#a dog came over the hill behind me

[disabled-dean]

Whooooo wants to see pictures from the bone trail today???

(Under the cut, cw: gore)

#if it helps this is an area with a lot of hunting #so I am ~assuming~ that someone had a kill they butchered #weren't gonna use these parts and was like- hey #you know what would be absolutely fucked up? #worth noting maybe that i still hiked about a half mile in? #and then I started to get ~a vibe~ and turned around #and about 20 yards from the spot where you cross back over the canal to the orchard road #a dog came over the hill behind me #perhaps with people following ir and i was like #oh fuck no #and did a little run away #anyways rural areas are just like that sometimes <3 #small town gothic #personal

[sinnersweets]

DogDay x Reader part 11

<;-----part 10, part 12----->

A/N: Ik DogDay has human looking hands but I just like calling them paws and the term for the equivalent of a finger to a dogs paw is called a digit so I used that in the story. Okay I'll stop talking now.

I sat on the examination bed in anticipation. It’s been four weeks. Four weeks of being trapped at my parents' house. Four weeks of having to deal with my mother pestering me every day. Four weeks that I worried that Damian might not be at Playcare anymore. And four weeks that I haven’t seen DogDay.  

A knock interrupted my thoughts. “Miss Y/N?” The door opened and the doctor came back with the x ray results. I’ve been doing everything I needed to heal properly and return to work. “Alright Miss Y/N, good news! It seems like you are healed up completely and no longer need to wear a boot.” “Yes!” I covered my mouth and apologized for my sudden burst. 

“No need to apologize. Seems like this is an early Christmas present for you.” “Indeed, it is.” I was overjoyed then. I can finally leave my parents' house and go back to work! The doctor prescribed me some medicine just in case I felt any pain later. I thanked the doctor, went to the waiting room and saw my dad looking at a newspaper. 

“I’m back.” He looked up from the paper and smiled before folding down the paper. “Hey kiddo. What’s the verdict?” “All healed up.” He smiled and nodded while standing up to leave the clinic. “You know your mom will be hurt that you’re all better; she’s hoping you’d stay with us till’ New Years.” “Sorry not sorry.” My dad knew what I meant when I said that, and he understood why I said that. “Just be careful when you go back to work.” “I will.” 

--------------- 

Unlocking my door to my place felt so nice. I smiled and sighed as I walked in and shut the door behind me. “Hello home.” I said to no one in particular. I noticed that by the door there was a lot of mail. I should’ve had one of my parents come by and collect these for me. I picked them up and started going through them. “Junk, junk, junk, more junk-wait a minute.” I went back to the previous envelope and took another look at it. It was addressed to me; Angel. 

My heart began to race as I ripped open the envelope. “My darling Angel, it has been almost four weeks since we last spoke. I hope that you are feeling better and that you will be able to return to us soon. Yes, that’s right Angel; us. Damian is still here.” My eyes were watering up as I read. Thank the stars Damian was still there. “And don’t worry my Angel; BB has stayed far away from me. Her helper Edward was a little peeved that we kinda sorta ruined her fur, but I don’t really care.” I chuckled. I knew he would be upset with that. 

--------------- 

I finished reading DogDay’s letter and went out to the fabric store for his gift. In his letter he said he had a gift for me and that he was excited to give it to me. I looked up a pattern online for what I wanted to make for DogDay and hoped that they had what I needed. Shopping near Christmas is a very hit or miss kinda situation. 

--------------- 

I was practically jumping in excitement as I saw Playcare. It looked so decked out with decorations. In the center where the statues of the Smiling Critters were at was a Christmas tree. As I got lower into Playcare I could see garland wrapped around the Bron lamps. There also seemed to be snow. Not real snow but fake snow for the children. The cable car soon came to a halt, and I exited while carrying DogDays gift in my hand. 

There were some children running around, sleighing down the hill, building snowmen; it warmed my heart to be back. I looked around and spotted Damian up by the duck pawn with Miley. I smiled and started making my way up to them when I heard Hoppy call out to me. “Hey you’re back!” She hopped over to me and gave me a tight hug. When she set me down she shouted, “Hey kids! Angels back!”  

All the kids that were outside stopped in their tracks and looked over to me and Hoppy before saying, “Angel!!!” The kids ran up to me and surrounded me while asking me questions and hugging me at the same time. “What happened?” “Why’d you leave?” “Did you die?” I did my best to hug each child that came up to me. “I had an injury and needed to go away for a while and no I did not die, haha.” “Miss Y/N!” I looked up and saw Damian was in the back of the crowd.  

I excused myself from the kids around me and made my way towards Damian. Once I got close Damain tackled me in a hug almost making me lose my balance. “You’re back!” He said while crying. “Damian! I’m so lucky I got to see you again. I was afraid that you wouldn’t be here; but after reading DogDays letter and knowing that you were still here, I was counting down the seconds that I could return to you both.”  

Hoppy tapped on my shoulder while saying, “Don’t mean to interrupt but I wanted to tell you something.” I let go of Damian and turned to face Hoppy. “So, you know how in the show Belle and the Beast waltz? Well, I heard from CatNap that DogDay has been wanting to do that scene with you and so he and Sarah have been practicing since she’s about the same height as you and he can't remember how you guys waltz before. They’ve been practicing once a week, and you are here on the day that they practice so I think it’ll be a good surprise to have you be seen by DogDay then.”  

I really wanted to see DogDay now, but I liked what Hoppy had suggested. “Okay, I’m in.” She clapped her hands together before grabbing onto my hand and leading me to the school. “Awesome! Now we just have to hide you until bedtime; that’s when they rehearse.” Damian and Miley followed behind me as we entered the school. “Where is DogDay?” “He’s been couped up in your office. He assigned me to your guy's group. You not being here really took a toll on him.” My heart sunk when she said that. He would probably be a little better if I had written back to him. Once I see him, I’ll explain why I couldn’t and hopefully he won’t be upset. 

--------------- 

Hoppy led me into the cafeteria and told me that this is where they practice at. “Mmmk, now you’ll just wait behind these curtains for a while while I go and find Sarah to tell her about the plan.” I gave her a thumbs up and she took Damian and Miley back with the rest of the kids. They both said they wanted to stay and watch, and she said they could if they could solve a math problem, she gave them. They both groaned in disappointment, but I chuckled. I’d have to have either Sarah or Hoppy record us, that way I can show them later. 

Once they left I sat down behind the curtain still holding DogDays gift in hand. I then thought about what to give Damian. After a moment of thinking I thought of the perfect gift. I wouldn’t give it to him tomorrow since I didn’t know how long the process would be, but I knew he would happily wait for it. I got on my phone and searched up how to adopt a child from Playtime. 

--------------- 

I fell asleep while waiting for DogDay and Sarah to come and the sound of DogDays voice woke me up. “Angel should be back any day now so let’s do our best tonight, Sarah.” “Um before we start, I have a suggestion. Why don’t I go put on something similar to what Y/N will be wearing, that way you like don’t step on her dress when she’s here.” “That’s a great idea Sarah! I really appreciate you helping me out with this.” “No prob.” I heard Sarah saying while popping her gum. 

I listened closely as Sarah left the cafeteria but then heard another set of footsteps near me. “Psst.” I looked over and saw that it was Hoppy. “Here.” She handed me the dress that Belle wears. “Go ahead and change. I’m gonna go out there and dj.” “Thank you. Oh, and here, take my phone.” I handed her my phone and she winked at me before leaving to give me privacy to change. 

“Hey there boss.” I could hear Hoppy say to DogDay. “Hoppy? What are you doing here?” “Oh I’m just here to dj. Sarah asked me to help with you guys tonight.” DogDay didn’t say anything but I’m guessing he was okay with this. “Now you just face this way alright?” “Um why?” “Don’t question me.” I then heard the music start to play. Suddenly, my hands felt sweaty. “Alright come on out!” I swallowed and opened the curtain.  

DogDays back was to me. Once I saw him I felt calm and no longer nervous. Hoppy was grinning and she pulled out my phone and started recording. “Hey that looks like Angel's pho-” DogDay stopped mid-sentence and slowly turned around. He turned and once he saw me his tail began wagging. I stepped down from the stage and walked over to him. Once I got close to him, I curtsy and said, “May I have this dance?” He wiped away a tear and bowed while saying, “It would be an honor to dance with you, Angel.”  

I motioned him to come a little bit closer. “I don’t remember the dance.” I whispered while laughing. He laughed to and said, “Not to worry Angel.” He picked me up and had one arm around my waist; and the other paw held my hand. “I’ll lead~”  

--------------- 

The whole moment felt magical; even though it was really just DogDay waltzing. Once the song had ended, he dipped me down and stared at me with such happiness. He then lifted me up and then we both saw CatNaps tail lower above us holding a mistle toe. “Go on! Kiss her! You know you want to! Haha.” Hoppy was still recording us. “You don’t have to tell me twice Hoppy!”  

DogDay closed the gap between us and kissed me on the lips. I closed my eyes and kissed him back. After a while we pulled back for some air. “I’ve missed you, Angel.” “I’ve missed you too. I’m sorry that I didn’t respond to your letter. I had no idea that you sent one and-” DogDay put a paw finger (digit) up to my lips while saying, “Shh. We can talk later. Right now, I just want to kiss you~” I smiled against his paw finger (digit), and he moved it away and kissed me again. “Oh I’m totally gonna show this to BB and KC.” 

A/N: Reunited at last.

#sinnersweets #poppy playtime #x reader #dogday #dogday x reader #poppy playtime chapter 3 #hoppy hopscotch #catnap

[fairycheol]

Always An Angel

luke castellan x apollo!fem!reader

cw:fluff, kissing, mentions of injury, teeny tiny angst. death/murder

It had been exactly three days since Luke Castellan had seen you, his girlfriend of three years, around camp.

The first day of your “disappearance” he simply chopped it down to you being busy taking care of the camp infirmary.

By the time day two rolled around, he began to worry, and unfortunately for him the Apollo campers were no help. Delivering cryptic responses every-time Luke asked where you were, practically avoiding his question.

He began to panic, did you leave camp with no goodbye?, were you secretly seeing someone else behind his back? His mind was running a hundred miles an hour.

On day three he took it upon himself to set out looking you. Leaving his campers with Clarisse he marched through every part of camp before arriving at the infirmary.

He hadn’t tried approaching the building earlier because Mr.D had placed a “do not enter” sign on the front.

Oh my gods, had Mr.D killed her?!?

Shaking the crazy thought from his head he finally opened the door to take a peak inside expecting to find a dead body on the ground but to his surprise it was something entirely different.

Sleeping on one of the beds was a 7 year old boy and hunched over asleep in a nearby chair was you, bow and arrow held limply in your hands.

Luke crept forward into the room when he stepped onto an extra creaky floorboard. The sound had succeeded in waking you up with a fright.

As a daughter of Apollo, you were gentle but you were also a fighter. Which would explain why Luke’s shirt was now pinned to the door with an arrow.

Now fully conscious you came to the realization that you’d just shot an arrow… at your boyfriend

“Luke!” you hissed at him

“What the hell is wrong with you?! I could’ve seriously hurt you!” Walking across the room you ripped the arrow off the door and placed it back in your quill.

“I-I was just coming to check on you, I haven’t seen you in three days.” Luke gave you the saddest puppy dog eyes imaginable. Gods was it impossible to get mad at him.

“Aw, you were worried about me?” Luke passed on a smile as you grabbed his face in between your hands,

“Wait no, i’m still mad at you for sneaking up on me!” Taking a step back you let out an angry huff, but the facade had melted almost instantly when Luke pulled you in by the waist and gave you one very very long kiss.

“I’m sorry for scaring you I just need to make sure you were okay. Your campers were pulling every excuse out of the book to get away from me.” Luke explained twisting an eyebrow up in mock suspicion. With a sigh you began to run your hands up and down his chest, feeling his heart race faster with every movement you made.

“I was gonna tell you were I was but he” you pointed at the young boy still fast asleep, “would wake up in tears every-time I tried leaving his side. He didn’t wake up this time cause I asked a daughter of Hypnos to help me get him to sleep comfortably.”

That’s right. The young boy laying in the infirmary had arrived three days ago. He was chased up the hill of camp half blood by a vicious three headed hell hound. When he got to camp he was shaken up and bleeding heavily. The only person able to calm him down was you.

“That doesn’t really explain you being cooped up in here with him.” Luke huffed putting his hands on his waist.

“Yeah well, after I got his stitches done and over with he begged me to stay in here. Said he could still feel the monsters chasing him.” You turn to look at him with such a saddened gaze that had him remembering of your arrival at camp and the night terrors you’d faced yourself.

“You know better than anyone Luke… I couldn’t leave him feeling like he was alone.” He knew exactly what you meant, and he couldn’t even be upset about it.

A pair of warm hands reached up to gently get a hold of your face, turning you to face him. He gave a smile that read a thousand praises.

Luke takes your moment of silence to give you one more kiss, the gesture sets off a million butterflies in your stomach.

“How did I get so lucky with someone like you” Luke brushes a strand of hair from your face, taking a moment to admire you.

His Angel in disguise.

the ending was lowkey rushed cause i didn’t know what to write 😭

hope y’all enjoyed it tho 🫶🏻

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagines #luke castellan #pjo x reader

[justagirlwholikesadam]

Realm's Delight

Summary: You were the twin of the dark haired child Cersei had with Robert. While fever took your twin, you survived. You are known throughout the seven kingdom as the realm's delight. The years has passed and your younger brother Joffrey wants something you have. Sandor Clegane x Baratheon! Reader A/n: Let me know if you enjoy this. Likes and comments are appreciated. Enjoy -L

Warning: SFW, Joffrey is Joffrey, ANGST ANGST ANGST

Word Count: 5.3K

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Chapter 2

Joffrey's hatred towards you started when he was a teen and grew tremendously as he became older. He remembered you being an amazing sister, reading him stories when he was a child. Walking with him around the garden and to the Red Keep but he yearned for the attention of his father. Robert’s attention was always captured by the fancy wine, his whores and you. He knew Robert’s love for you is boundless, there was simply no end to it. Robert never yelled at you or hit you even when you protected Joffrey after he killed the kitchen cat.

He disemboweled the poor feline when he found out it was pregnant. He wanted to see the kittens, he cried out as you held him so he didn’t receive a second hit from his father. You stopped defending Joffrey when he became more ill-mannered. His hatred towards you began when you yelled at him for being discourteous to your help.

“Mind your manners when it comes to those who work for me. My servants are not bitches and my guard is not a dog. Learn to respect, brother.” You scolded him then turned to console one of your servants.

It's been a month after the events of Robert accepting your refusal to wed your betroth in Dorne. Cersei hasn't spoken to you and so didn't Joffrey, he grew more annoyed by the fact that you didn't care at all. You went on talking with Robert, to your uncles and his younger siblings. Joffrey was looking out the balcony trying his best to take short breaths so he didn’t have to smell the shit coming from below where the commoners live. He was staring out because he heard the ruckus you were making this morning. You didn’t break fast with them, he hasn't seen you all morning. Of course, Robert was fine with it. He told Cersei you were busy with your activities.

“Feeding the poor is one of her activities now?” Cersei spoke with a mocking tone. She got angry when Robert straight up ignored her and continued on with his meal.

Joffrey rolled his eyes when he finally found you. You were walking with Sandor up and down the streets of King’s Landing. Sandor walked behind you as he led his horse. Joffrey’s blue eyes hardened when he saw a group forming in front of you. Your smile didn’t break when they got near you, Joffrey couldn’t believe you could be near them. They reeked of shit, he couldn’t even be around them for 5 minutes before he started to gag.

Your smile didn't falter, it grew bigger as you walked around the dark mare to open the bags draped over its body. The people's eyes widened when you came back with slices of bread and cheeses wrapped in a white cloth. Sandor remains silent as he looks over at you then at his surroundings.

Joffrey walks away from the balcony when you continue to walk around with Sandor. It was evening and Sandor can tell you were tired. You were walking slower, you were up at dawn wrapping bread and cheese with the servants of the kitchen. This wasn’t something new, he’s been walking around King’s Landing with you feeding the people for years. You were kind unlike your family, Sandor thinks as he passes the last house that stood at the bottom of the hill. He had told you it would have been better to ride in a carriage so you wouldn’t have to walk all over the place but you told him you didn’t mind it. You wanted to speak with the people and have a close interaction with them.

“Princess.” Sandor looks over at the last house to see an elderly woman walking out of the front door. She bowed her head when she got close to you.

“How are you today?” You asked, grabbing the last bundles in the bag.

“Better now that you are here.” Sandor watches as you give her a smile while handling her food.

Sandor bites the inside of his cheek to keep himself from smiling as he watches you communicate with her. You spoke to her like an equal. You’re the first to ever do it with the commoners. That’s why they called you the Realms Delight. It was one of the many reasons why Sandor fell in love with you. You never looked down at anyone, you treated everyone with kindness especially to the unfortunate.

When it tends to bite you in the ass because of it that’s why he’s there with you. Sandor has threatened people throughout the years since you started giving food out. People got ahead of themselves and took too many bundles. He was always there to make sure everyone got their share. He gives them a stare down when they begin to fight with others for more food.

He remembers the first time the children from the orphanage wouldn’t get near you since he was behind you.

“No need to fear. Sandor and Stranger are here to help me.” You tell the children but they don’t believe you until a man tries to cut the line. Sandor bares his teeth, sending him running away.

“You see. Sandor is here to help me to make sure everyone gets their share.” The children calms down as Sandor brings Stranger closer to you so you start passing out the bundles.

“Remember to eat up so you can grow tall and strong like Sandor.” He shakes his head as you tell the children before walking away.

Sandor was so busy remembering the past that he didn’t notice you were walking inside the older woman’s house. Sandor shouted your name and you waved at him to come inside. He leans down to get his big frame past the door frame. When he gets through he notices you were talking with a young girl. Sandor awkwardly stood by the front door as you talked with her. The young girl was the older woman’s daughter. They were all alone after the woman’s husband died from the recent war. He was unaware when you placed a comforting hand on the woman's knee. A war broke out not long ago, your father’s brother wanted to be King. Robert brushed it off but soon it became clear that his brother was serious when he received support from other houses. All you could do is pray for when the next war breaks out that your father would win it again.

Sandor heard the words working and tavern but didn’t pay attention to it. He was busy looking around to make sure no harm would come to you. As much as you like to believe the people in King’s Landing wouldn't hurt you. Sandor thought the opposite. His eyes almost pop out of his head when he sees you sitting on a chair, pulling your dress up to your knees so you can remove your black slippers.

“Seven Hells!” He shouts but you look over at him with a stern face that shuts him up.

“Princess! No! Please. We can not.” The mother tells you while the daughter is pushing the slippers back towards you.

“Nonsense! You can’t work with those shoes. They are falling apart.” You pointed at the old slippers near the bed by the daughter.

“Princess Y/n.” Sandor calls out walking towards you. You were getting out of hand now, passing food was one thing but giving up your belongings was something else completely.

“Sandor. Please.” You look up at him. How can he say no when you look at him with those puppy dog eyes.

Sandor’s nostrils flare but he looks away from you letting you continue on. He hears that you tell the girl to take it. If they were too big or small to have the cobbler fix it. He hears the coins clinking together as you grab a hold of your small pouch that was kept strapped on your waist.

He looks out the door when the mother and daughter start to cry by your kindness, giving them money to make sure the shoes would fit properly. He walks out when you mention to them that you should be returning back to the castle. Sandor had already pulled the bags off of Stranger and draped it over his shoulders.

“Get up here.” Sandor tells you when he saw you were about to walk barefoot up the hill. Sandor helps you up, settling you on top of Stranger. He wanted to snap at you but couldn't when he saw the smile you had on your face.

“Why?” Sandor asked you after a moment of silence.

He can’t comprehend why you were so kind to everyone. He knew you had the ability to manipulate, manipulate men, and the king but you never did use it for anything wicked. Years of him guarding you; you’ve never changed, you've always been kind since the very start but he just can’t wrap his head around the idea of it. Maybe because he was so used to being treated like shit by his brother and by others when he was younger that it was normal to him.

“Remember what you told me two weeks after guarding me?” You asked him, looking down at him as he walked side by side with Stranger.

“Aye.” Sandor answered you with a nod. He had snapped at you because you were being too nice with the guards. Your intentions with them were innocent and nothing more. You didn’t notice their beady eyes ranking up and down your figure.

“You were the first man to ever tell me how this world works. Mother told me a few things on how to get what I want but you showed me a whole other side of the world beyond the castle’s wall.” Sandor senses a sadness in your voice.

“There is so much pain and sorrow in this world. I want to ease their pain, even if it’s just a little bit.” You look towards the castle.

“I am grateful to have survived the fever when I was a babe. I was born into a wealthy family. I have a roof over my head and I will never go hungry. My relationship with my family may not be the best, but I have my father.” You told him as you felt Stranger’s soft fur against your toes.

“ And I have you.” You said looking down at him with a smile.

He will never get used to your kind words and it makes him dread even more when the day comes for you to get married to some Lord, leaving him all alone in King's Landing. He will miss it, miss everything. He will miss hanging out with you, guarding you and loving you. When he and you finally made it to the stables, he shook his head letting all those sad thoughts of you leaving, disappear.

The stable boys welcome you and you greet them with a smile, asking them about their family. Sandor huffs at you, he doesn't even know their names, he was impressed on how you remembered most of the people's names that work for your father. He keeps quiet as you speak with them.

The stable boys walked out as Sandor brought Stranger into his stall. The dark mare wasn’t fond of other people that weren't Sandor.. You grabbed a hold on Sandor's shoulders as he put you down to the ground.

“It’s evening.” You told him. The stable boys were already leaving for the day. He places you on top of his shoes so you won't touch the dirty stable floor. Stranger is eating the hay placed out for him in the corner as Sandor shuts the door, pushing you against it, lifting you up to meet his face.

“I do, enjoy evenings.” He tells you. Evenings were the best, the workers were retreating back home, others were already at the castle breaking fast to eat dinner. King Robert and Queen Cersei should already be drunk out of their minds. Both of you can be alone, he can be close to you now. Your face is flushed from being outside all day, he feels your legs wrapped around his waist, he hides his face between your neck and shoulder.

“Spend the night with me. We can bathe and eat.” Sandor grips his hold on you tighter as you kiss his mutilated ear.

“You can fuck me.” You whisper and he looks at you by your choice of words. His only brow rose up at you as you smirked at him.

You cupped his face with your hands, your thumb brushing over his beard as you looked at him. Passing food to the ladies in the whore house had you shocked when one of them noticed Sandor over your shoulder. They were very outspoken about Sandor. Wondering how big he is and how he would fuck. One girl was about to ask you about him when the other hushed her, telling her you, the princess wouldn't know such a matter when it came to Sandor’s sex life. You quickly walked away when they commented on his face.

You wonder why people thought Sandor was hideous, he really wasn't. The burns were large and took up almost half of his face but he was the most handsome man you have seen. If anyone got the chance to see him smile, they would know it’s one of the most beautiful things in the world. His eyes were a deep and rich brown color, his lips that seemed to only know foul words were pale pink and kissable. You can’t recall the amount of times you nibble on it for the fun of it.

“Is that a yes?” You asked him. Sandor nods softly as he leans down to kiss your cheek. You moved to catch his lips.

Joffrey was walking out of his mother’s room when he heard laughter. He walked to the railing trying to listen where it came from. He was leaning over it when saw Sandor walking with you draped over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Joffrey frowns as he notices you were barefoot. He could believe that The Hound had cracked a smile and laughed when you slapped him on his behind. Joffrey broke out a sinister smile when he saw Sandor playfully biting your ass making you squeal.

This was something much more than a guard guarding the princess. Joffrey kept staring as he started to form a plan.

Sandor had dropped you at the end of the hall when he noticed your servants were waiting for you by the door of your bed chambers. You fixed your gown and walked towards the room. You asked them to bring the large brass tub you wanted to bathe today and to bring food so you can dine inside your chambers as you released Sandor from his duties. After convincing the eldest servant that you wanted to bathe alone, she bowed to you and left the room. You were in the tub relaxing when a couple of minutes later you heard the door open. You looked ahead to see Sandor walking inside, he’s not wearing his usual gear. Locking the door behind, you sat up straight in the tub moving to the side to make room for him. You grin as he walks towards you.

“Water is still hot. Come inside.” You tell him. Sandor doesn’t need to be told twice. He removes his white tunic shirt, dropping it to the ground. Watching him remove his clothes you bite your bottom lip, you can’t help but stare at his body, his cock as he gets inside the tub. The water overflows over the edge of the tub as he sits down across from you.

“Come here.” He tells you. You move towards him, turning around. His legs are spread, leaving you space to get in between and lean back against his chest. You can feel the coarse thick hair of his body on your back. Your hands trail up his thick thighs under the water.

“The girls were sweet to get these roses and lavender from the garden. They said it will help me ease my mind and body.” You told Sandor as you grabbed a rose petal floating near you and giving it to him over your shoulder.

Sandor takes it between his fingers, giving it an uninterested look. “Hopefully I won’t find one between my arse.”

You break out laughing as you throw another petal at him. “The best smelling arse in the seven kingdoms.”

He chuckles at you before tugging you closer to him making you giggle as he kisses your neck. His wandering hands are touching your hips and waist before settling down on your outer thighs.

A comfortable silence drifted over both of you, enjoying each other's company; this was something he liked. Being close to you, feeling you on him. Your mind wandered off as Sandor leaned forward to grab something from the side. You look down to see what he got. You smiled when you saw what he was holding. The bar of soap looks so minuscule in his hand, he dips it in the water and rubs it against your skin. He lather you up well and you let out a moan when you feel his hand working on a knot on your shoulder.

When he was finished you took the bar out of his hand, you slowly turned around, moving his legs straight so you could straddle him. His hands immediately went to your waist as you placed your hands on his shoulders. Sandor’s stares at you as you were washing him, rubbing the soap on his chest and shoulders. Gathering a rag hanging from the edge of the tub you use it on him. He relaxes as you wash him. He was so relaxed to the point that he had his head tilted back. You dropped the rag in the water and kissed his open neck. He whines as you nip his throat and shoulders. You thought this would be the perfect time to tell him something. Sandor wasn't the only one thinking about the future.

“I want to tell you something. It’s been plaguing my mind since the event with Joffrey and my father.” Sandor brings his head back forward to look at you with a worried expression.

“I know my time will come when my father expects me to marry.” You felt Sandor tense up under you. His face became blank as he looked at you.

“Why don’t we run away?” You ask him, moving his hair out of his face. You don’t know what Sandor is thinking.

“I’ll give you my jewelry to sell at flea bottom. We save enough money to go wherever you wanna go. Braavos?” Words kept spilling out of your mouth as he kept silent.

“Anywhere you want. We can buy land and have a farm. Stranger would be so happy with all the open fields.” You frowned when he didn't say anything.

“No more King’s Landing. No Joffrey, no more guarding, no more rules. No more Gregor.” You mentioned his brother’s name softly.

“You would give up your title? Run away with me?” He asks you quietly. You nodded at him as you got closer to him. Your chest was close to his face as you looked down at him seriously.

“I will.” Sandor shook his head.

“Y/n.” Sandor tried to find the right words to say. He looks around at your room. The gowns are hanging from your closet, the large bed of silk sheets and feather pillows. He can see your jewelry on the vanity.

“If we leave. I can’t give you all of this. The pretty and expensive dress. Jewels and dornish wine.” You look around your room following his gaze.

“You deserve all of it.” His words make you angry. “You know what I deserve?” You ask him.

“I deserve to be happy. You are what makes me happy. Being with you makes me happy and the idea of getting to spend the rest of my life with you brings me so much joy. No more hiding. I want to kiss you when I want. I want to make love to you whenever I want. I want you to fuck me whenever you want. I don’t care about the dresses, the wine and the jewels. Sandor, say yes. Say yes to me.”

He feels like he must have done something to please the gods and now they were rewarding him with you. He can’t believe that you were willing to give all of this up to be with him, a second born son.

“Say something.” You tell him with tears in your eyes. Sandor brings his hands to face, cupping his hands in your face. Droplets of water are running down his arms to your chest.

“We do it but I make you mine. Make you my wife.” You let out a smile.

“What do you say, princess?” He asked you.

“This would be the last time you call me that. Next time it will be Y/n Clegane.” Sandor smiles at you before pulling you in a kiss. He liked the sound of your new name. Leaving the tub when the water became cold, Sandor and you sat by the table eating dinner as he talked about how he could sell the jewelry you offered, a few jewels without people knowing it from you. He would have to go early in the morning and in secret.

You agreed with him. Talks about the future filled the night, both of you were tired from the walk. Slow kisses and gentle touches both of you gave each other. Sandor refused when you were going to have sex with him. He can see it in your face that you were tired. He kissed the top of your head and told you, “We will have all the time in the world to make love when we are free from King's landing.”

It was dawn when Sandor snuck out of your chambers and made his way to his own. He froze outside of his door when he noticed a light coming under the door. He didn't leave any candles on. He pushes the door and walks inside. He frowns at the sight of Joffrey and Ser Meryn Trant sitting around the table in the middle of his room.

“About time.” Joffrey said with a loud sigh as he crossed his arms over his chest. Sandor threw a glare at Meryn Trant who grabbed his sword that was on the table.

“We have been waiting for you all night.” Sandor shuts the door behind him and walks towards his bed.

“Went to the tavern and stayed the night at the whorehouse.” Sandor lied as he sat on his bed. His eyes went to his sword near his bed post.

“Without your armor or sword?” Joffrey asked with a smirk. “Very strange.”

“Everyone knows not to fuck with me. No need to carry all that shit.” Sandor answered him bluntly. Joffrey looks over at Ser Meryn Trant.

“I searched every whorehouse in King’s landing. You weren't there.” The knight answered.

“Where were you, Dog?” Joffrey asked. Sandor frowned at the nickname. It’s been so long that someone called him that. No one dared to disrespect him when he started to guard you. You demanded respect for him and your servants.

“My sister has such a loyal dog, Ser Meryn Trant.” Joffrey told the knight next him when Sandor did not respond.

“You're wasting my time already. We were waiting in your room all night. I know where you were, Dog.” Sandor stared hard at Joffrey.

Joffrey told him how he saw him and you walking away from the stables. A disgraceful sight, Joffrey called it. Sandor felt his heart dropped to his stomach when Joffrey mentioned how he saw him going to your chambers last night.

“What do you want?” Sandor asked, looking down at the ground. Joffrey stood up from his seat and walked towards him.

“Look at me, Dog.” Sandor’s jaw clenched but he obeyed Joffrey.

Joffrey gave him a malicious smile. “It all makes sense now. Why wouldn't she get married.”

“She is in love with the dog. How ridiculous! What a joke this is!" Joffrey cracked a laugh and looked over at Ser Meryn Trant who joined him with his own laughter. Sandor felt his mouth go dry as they laughed at him, laughed at the idea that you love him.

His laughter dies as he looks back at Sandor. “What would the king say when he hears about this? Mother would die from this news. Y/n will be stripped from her title. She will be disowned and severely punished for being with a lowborn.” Sandor felt ill to his stomach.

“Perhaps she threatened you to sleep with her. Or you raped her and she had no other choice.” Sandor stood up at his words. He never in his life had made you do something that you weren't comfortable with and you were the same to him.

“She will be punished.” Joffrey showed no fear when Sandor stood in front of him.

“Like I said. What do you want?” Sandor asked him as Ser Meryn Trant stood up from his seat. Ready to swing his sword incase Sandor harms Joffrey.

“I want her to suffer. I want her dog to go to her room and tell her you don't want her anymore. You will be my new guard. You will tell her that you don't love her and everything between you was all a lie. Tell her that you used her.” Sandor shook his head at him, he wouldn't. He couldn't do that to you. He would runaway with you today and fuck the rest. He will work to provide for you, he will do anything but he wouldn't say he doesn't love you.

“If you don't obey. I will tell my father everything. He will disown her and you will never see her again because you will be punished. You know how? You’ll be executed for raping my sister. I swear on everything, Dog. If you don't agree with this. I’ll have her head chopped off with yours.” Sandor looks away. He blinks the unshed tears away, he refuses to cry in front of Joffrey.

“I’ll give you an hour. Break her heart and report back to me.” Joffrey said he was about to leave when he looked over at Ser Meryn Trant.

“I always wanted a dog. Now I got the largest and the most dangerous of them all.” Joffrey laughed as he walked out of the room with Ser Meryn Trant behind.

Sandor looks at the door, he’s breathing heavily and tears are rolling down his face. He knew it was too good to be true. Sandor let out a growl and flipped the table over and leaned against the wall.

He doesn’t think he has the heart to break things off with you. He was strong to kill and fight but to tell you that he doesn’t love you. He couldn’t but he has too for your sake. He has to do it to keep you safe. You will hate him forever but you will be safe.

Sandor dresses for the day and walks slowly to your chambers. He sees your servants coming out of your room, it meant you were dressed as well and ready for the day.

He knocked on the door and heard your voice saying to come inside. He walks inside and shuts the door behind him. His heart is beating out of his chest as he watches you wrapping something by the vanity.

“Good Morrow, Sandor.” You tell him as you look ahead at the mirror to see him by the door.

He doesn’t say anything. You carefully wrapped the cloth and walked towards him. “I have it. These should be sold off first. I had them for a while so no one will suspect a thing.”

You tell him, holding out the jewelry for him to take. Sandor is still silent as he looks at you. You frowned when Sandor didn’t move. You grabbed his hand trying to open it so you could give him the jewelry. He doesn’t look well and it worries you.

“What’s wrong, my love?” You whispered. Sandor rips his hand from your gasp and walks back to the door.

He had his back turn to you. He couldn’t look at your face. He didn’t want to see how your face looked when he ripped his hand from your gasp. You must have looked so hurt by his action.

“This is wrong.” Sandor said as his shoulders rose up and down with each breath he took.

Before you can respond he cuts you off. “Between me and you is wrong. It must end. It’s over. I won’t be your guard anymore.”

Sandor doesn’t wait for a response. He’s about to open the door when you push him against the door and flip him over with all your might. His back hits the door and refuses to look at your face. He doesn't want to look at you, he knows if he does he’ll break down.

“What are you talking about? What’s going on?” You asked him.

“Sandor!” You shouted his name, the jewelry in your hands had fallen to the ground as you slapped his chest trying to catch his attention. He was ignoring you. He told you it was over.

“Tell me what’s wrong. I can help you.” You told him.

“Why won’t you look at me?” You cried out as you slapped the chest armor again. He has to do it. He has to break your heart. He doesn’t want you to get hurt, punished, or disowned for loving him.

“It’s over between us.” Sandor said, finally looking down at you. You shook your head.

“What do you mean?” You asked him, Sandor hears your voice crack.

“Sandor..”

He wants to cry but the look on your face. You looked so hurt, eyes tearful, brows knitted together in confusion. He needs to touch you one last time, hold you. He wants to remember how warm and soft you feel under his touch. His fingers are twitching to touch your face.

“What did I do? I’m sor- for whatever I did I’m so sorry.” He wants to yell at you for being so stupid. How is this your fault? How can you believe that you were the one in fault?

“Sandor, I love you. If this is about last night of me deserving all of this, I’ve told you. I told you all I want is you. I deserve to be happy and you are the only reason that makes me happy.”

‘You’re the only reason he’s happy too’, he says to himself. The words that he’s about to say kills him on the inside, it feels like bile coming up his throat.

“I changed my mind. I don’t love you. Not anymore.” You took a step back from Sandor. You place a hand on your stomach as you cry. You shook your head at him.

“I don’t believe you. You love me and I love you.” Sandor felt his tears at bay, he had to leave the room at once. You flinched at his sudden moment when he walked away from the door and towered over you giving you a scowl.

“I don’t love you anymore. Princess.” The tone of his voice drops down in a hiss.

“I never did. I just used you.” Sandor quickly turns to open the door, he does it so hard it almost comes out of the hinges. He hears you crying as he walks out of the room.

Joffrey was in his room when he heard a knock. Ser Meryn Trant opens the door when Joffrey welcomes in whoever it was. Joffrey feels like the first in his life, he won. He won on making you feel unloved just as he felt, he wished he could hear your cries right now. What he would give to see your face at this moment but it didn’t matter because his pet was waiting outside for him.

“Dog. Come in.” Joffrey said with an ominous smile.

<- Chapter 1 Chapter 3 ->

Taglist: @federalclassroom, @snixx2088

#sandor clegane #sandor clegane x reader #games of thrones #games of thrones fanfiction #sandor clegane fanfic #sandor the hound clegane #games of thrones x reader #rory mccann #angst #heartbroken #sad

[catfern]

1 MILLION SUBSCRIBERS SPECIAL

pairing: ghost hunter!ellie x afab!reader (feminine pronouns used)

music: eyes without a face - billy idol

word count: 2.3k

summary: ghost hunter!ellie needs a new assistant to help film her 1 million subscribers special in a supposedly 'haunted house'. good thing you'll do anything she says.

warnings: SEXTAPE, oral (r!receiving) fingering (r!receiving), ghosts? spooky business, ellie is a shitty clickbait youtuber

an: heyyy this came to me in a dream. nothing much else to say. get ready to fuck dirty while ghosts watch idk. this is probably gonna be my only halloween fic while we're still in october. got some other ideas tho so get ready for a spooky november

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“come on! come on! it’ll be fun! something memorable on halloween.”

“jesus, ellie, you know I don’t believe in that shit.”

it’s a coy laugh. your fingers dance over your phone, unsure what to do. you didn’t believe her when she jumped and screamed, bolstering about her 1 millionth subscriber.

‘The Ghost Detective.’ her youtube profile was almost as shoddy as her Mr. Beast-esque clickbait video titles.

“then it doesn’t matter!” she had a hold on your forearm, intermittent squeezing begging you to fold, “please? the last girl I had thought her dead mom was talking to her and ran off.”

she had an almost pitiful look in her eyes, her eyebrows screwed together as she pleaded. 

fucking hell. you were convinced if you hadn’t met ellie, hadn’t started falling behind her like an obedient dog, you’d actually submit most of your assignments on time.

“fine.”

it wasn’t that your tiny town was particularly superstitious, or religious, or any other ‘-itious’, but it was in unspoken agreement that there was something inexplicable here, on the hill that looked over the lights of the suburbs. a decaying prairie protrusion built god-knows-when, the moon shone high in its fullness through the rotting foundations, casting its shadows over the dead grass, falling at your feet with the cool of the wind.

the whisper in her voice ran up your spine, “gettin’ scared yet?”

ellie seemed all too giddy to be here, a wicked smile and a laugh in her throat. her hair was pulled back from her face, and you could lightly see the ghost of freckles across her cheek in the night. 

“what? no, no. i’m just tired.”

“right,” she was poking fun, the words dripping from her lips like electricity. she dumped her arms-full of equipment in your arms with a huff, before digging around in her backpack. “here,” cold metal in your hand as she took back her stuff. redbull, “we’re gonna be here all night.”

you don’t know how she did it. even as a certified non-believer, the engulfing emptiness of the house, the darkness that settled in the cracks and corners caught up with you, something unsettling pricking the hairs on the back of your neck.

but here she was. she brought a lawn chair from home, said it was her dad’s. equipped with the built-in beer holder and everything, she was relaxed. her elbows settled on her knees, her hands fallen limp in the space between her legs. she had something in her eyes, a glint. something determined, charming as she stared you down. well, the camera.

but you were staring at her right back. memorising what little detail echoed through the lens of the shitty 2008 sony camcorder.

she said it was for the ‘found footage look’. you know it’s just because she’s broke.

“now, legend has it, ladies and gentlemen, that the last owners of this iconic hillside property were satan .. worshippers. and that this house, this very house that i’m sitting in right now, is actually an active portal. to. hell.”

you’ve gotta give it to her. she had a talent for drama.

“i’ll just point to you when i need you to do like, i dunno, a little camera pan or something, yeah?”

ellie was explaining it to you like you hadn’t just been at home binge-watching her channel for the past few days, meticulous research, you called it. to make sure you did a good job as her assistant. not like the blur of her messy hair and her face in the ghoulish green light of the night vision camera did anything to you.

you knew her video structure. front room first, then five minutes in a spooky hallway, then some time left to freak out in one of the bedrooms, find an old haunted toy that definitely wasn’t planted, and then a quick exit with a lot of swearing, screaming and camera shaking.

“right, you ready?”

you nod. 

the front room was, unsurprisingly, boring, although ellie put on her best shiver-me-timbers face, as she calls it. something for the fans.

but when you got back into the hallway, something in the air had changed. you looked to ellie, and you couldn’t tell if what she felt was real, or fake. she just kept looking at you through the camera, the same dramatised ‘concern’ written all over her face.

everything ellie does is scripted. fake.

if there was something wrong, truly wrong, here, you would leave, right?

the feeling was violently oppressive, pushing down on you. run, run, run. a gush of something ran across the back of your neck.

“fuck! what was that? did you feel that?”

“hey, hey,” the sudden normalness of her voice felt misplaced, “just keep the camera on me, okay? eyes on me.” 

you could barely see her fucking eyes. the imposing and suffocating darkness of the house seemed to wrap around you horribly tight, the only thing keeping you tethered to your sense of sanity was the sound of ellie’s breath, so close you could feel it wisp around your cheekbone, warm and inviting. the only comfort fighting the cold in the air.

slowly, your sight adjusts to the dark, and you could barely make out the outline of her face in the dim light of the moon. she was watching you, her eyes lidded, flickering over the shadow of your body. your own breath was quick, adrenaline laced, something sore and deep. you feel a slight graze against your arm and you jump, ellie catching your shoulders in her arms, pushing you upright,

“careful, it’s just me,”

there’s a closeness now, a beat. her grip is strong as it soothes the shaking, the fear, the absolute buzz that you’re convinced is the only thing keeping you alive. you quickly become obsessed with the design of her, you’ve never been this close. suddenly, you recognise the way her hair falls on her face, the look in her eyes, the shine as she looks at you. she clears her throat, and her hands drop, coarsely, from your shoulders,

“come on, you’re alright. let’s keep going.”

yeah, yeah. you fumble your hand back through the strap of the camera, a slight twitch in your hand as you press record,

“fucking hell,” her voice was raspy, deep, a soft but commanding whisper, “the spirits sure are stirred up here… i wonder what happened.”

stay close to me. it’s barely a breath, something not meant to be heard, but her voice is luring, and you nod.

your footsteps were a heavy echo against the aging wood floor, the creaks spreading through the house like a warning. to you, or to others, you don’t know.

the bedroom wasn’t far. you had to hike up a flight of decaying steps, but as ellie talked to the camera, she held a hand firm on your back. she wouldn’t let you fall.

the room obviously belonged to some kids, however long ago. abandoned toys and rotted posters littered the floor, and it almost felt painful to see the life that was once in this house. but why did they leave everything here? kids drawings, toys, a closet full of half-eaten, moth-ridden clothes.

what made them just get up and leave?

wind rattled against the window, it felt like it was rocking the house. something was uneasy here, unnerving. you tried to focus your thoughts on ellie, her dramatic storytelling and perfectly practiced ‘scared’ body language, but there was something here. and it was watching.

one final gust of wind surged against the rocky foundations of the house, and the closet doors flung open, an old wooden puppet flying out to your feet.

you were never a screamer, never. which is why, when you heard a blood-curdling shriek rush through the house, it felt like an out of body experience. something foreign. you fell back and tripped over your own feet, desperate to put as much distance between you and whatever was in this house as possible.

luckily, ellie’s fear is fabricated. she’s quick to respond, stepping in to steady you with kind hands and a charming smile. your heart rate was so intense, it rocked the both of you, chest to back, intertwined something fierce. your breath settles against her chest, and you meet her eye,

“thought you didn’t get scared,” she was being a tease. her hands ghosting over your body gently, carefully, thinly veiled under the guise of simply holding you, caring for you, she was keeping you safe. it was a little self-indulgent.

“i’m not,” you steel yourself, stubborn girl, although a soft laugh bubbles in your throat. there’s something unreal about the steady feeling of ellie’s hands, the roughness of her palms pushing through your clothing. you turn, and she’s smiling, the glint of her teeth in the soft light, mischief an echo on her face. her voice was low as she leaned in, tickles of her hair just brushing the apple of your cheekbone,

“really, baby? i don’t think you would even still be here if it wasn’t for me.”

“you think i’m here for you?” she’s so close you can feel your breath swirl with hers, heat brushing down your jaw and dripping onto your neck. her grip on your waist anchors, and you feel her settle in the crooks of your body, the corners of your skin, like she’s home. she’s looking at you, something jokingly fierce, but unsure, and her gaze falls on your lips, 

“mhm,”

you’d think she’d been starved. restless, choked breaths fall between you in gaps as she pulls you in, heavy, her lips on yours in fervour. her hands are everywhere, tracing themselves in your hair, down your neck, feeling their way blindly along the softness of your skin. god.

her lips draw from yours, dragging a mix of spit and lip gloss down your chin, along the ridge of your neck, a trail glistening in the edging darkness.

“fuck, ellie.”

you barely register the weight lifting from your hand, only a visceral whine as she pulls from you, walking a safe distance to gently place the camera down, out of the way.

ellie finds herself back in the crook of her neck, dragging your skin through her teeth, soft groans rumbling from her throat as her hands pull their way down to the waistband of your skirt,

a skirt? really?

had you planned this?

“come on, sweetheart,” she’s barely audible against your skin, vibrations dripping down your torso as her hands dive under your shirt, lifting it to bounce above your tits, “that’s it.”

her palm cups the base of your tit, dragging soft moans from your pretty lips as she squeezes.

under her breath, she’s praying. vulgar, tenacious, she can’t control herself, lost in the dream of your body as she presses you against a wall she hopes won’t collapse.

fuck-god, fuck, jesus, baby.

if you’re who she’s praying to, it falls on deaf ears. you’re no god, you can’t help her, but fuck, she feels like she could worship you. properly, forever, falling to her knees and cupping her palms behind your thighs, it’s like she’s pleading,

“can i?” she’s soft, her cheek resting on the inside of your thigh, you’re her altar, “god, say yes.”

her nose just graces the wetness of your underwear and you flinch, “yes! ellie, f-fuck-please.”

she loops her pointer fingers into the waistband of your panties, dragging them down your thighs, almost too rough. she loses herself in the heat, the slick dripping from your pussy.

heat poured over your body like molten gold, the feeling of her tongue inside you, raw, animalistic, sending pulses sliding up the ridges of your skin. she hums against your clit, her hand coming down to pull your velvet slick from the rim of her lips.

you convulse, clenching around the encroaching absence of a feeling, of something you didn’t know you needed. 

her.

“fucking hell, sweet girl,” deep, ragged breaths shadow your thighs. she needs air, but its not like she wants it. fuck, she wants you, she needs you. your taste on her tongue is metallic, a memory she’s chasing like a quick withdrawal. her tongue finds your clit and presses, a murmur leaving her drowning lips and echoing through your veins as you moan, desperation clawing through your hands and in ellie’s hair, binding. 

“please, el-f-shit, i need you. i need to feel you, fuck!”

you didn’t need to ask twice.

 fuck, you wrapped around her like you were made for her, godsent, a gift for her devotion. she stretched you, opening you with her fingers and you nearly melted, ellie’s arm wrapped around your thigh the only stability offered for your spent body. your head threw back, digging into the old, rotting wood of the wall, and if ellie looked up, pulled away from her firm spot between your legs, she would have seen you and completely unravelled.

she wasn’t gentle, the way her fingers moved inside you. desperate and completely unforgiving, she needed everything that you were willing to give her, her pace rough, fast, world-destroying.

and there she was, a lazy grin bearing her teeth against your clit, pussydrunk and delirious, tasting you and content enough to die.

she supposed she wouldn’t mind haunting this house, if you came to visit her.

low warbles against your cunt, you couldn’t hear her, even if you were listening. drowning in the push and pull of her touch, in the warmth of her, your head felt like molasses, your body something soft, mouldable to her design. ellie laughed against your walls, sweet and desiring, and you collapsed.

your vision bleary, you could just feel the tips of ellie’s fingers brushing through your hair, smoothing your slick across your skin. your head fell against hers, and you could just make out something blinking in the foggy distance, 

the camera,

“hey, el,”

she sighed, heat in the crook of your neck, “yeah?”

 “does the red light mean it’s on?”

A few days later, the thoughts of ghosthunting weighing heavy on your mind, ellie texts you,

thought you might want a copy <3

my subscribers will love you

attachment: hauntedhouse.mov 

taglist; @whore4abby

dm me to join my sad lil list <3

#ellie x reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #ellie williams smut #ellie williams headcanons #ellie williams fanfic #ellie x fem reader #ellie x y/n #ellie x you #ellie the last of us #ellie tlou

[r0ttenhearts]

in another life

thoma x childhood, best friend! reader

sypnosis; with thomas new position in the kamisato estate he strays further and further from you

warnings: angst, suggestive mentions, replaced

sweet, sweet thoma. your blonde haired protector since childhood. now he was ayaka’s “protector.” what a joke. you’d scoff at your own thoughts, holding taroumaru in your arms, his wet tongue licking your tears away as you laughed dryly.

it was cruel, really. your once shared promises on that hill you made while stargazing. he had been the one to speak up. “we’re like glue (y/n). we’ll always be together.” liar. liar. liar!

“it doesn’t matter what happens, i’ll always be by your side.”

“i’ll never leave you.” liar.

“you’ll always be the most important person to me.”

“nothing will tear us apart.”

“i promise, i’ll never love someone the way i care for you.” shut up, shut up, SHUT UP.

his voice was ringing in your ears, the same voice you used to find comfort in during your younger years. taroumaru licked at the salty tears running down your cheeks, something you hadn’t noticed.

you always suspected it, now you knew it was true.

he had strayed away from you, again.

he had picked someone over you, again.

the only times you’d ever see him now were when he needed a favor. that being to dogsit taroumaru, or help each other rid of the loneliness you both felt late at night. every time you’d come over to feel his warm hands on your body, soothing your numbing heart, you’d lie to yourself and think you were both lovers.

it wasn’t a sad secret between two childhood friends, but two people in love and showing it to each other. the lie would dissipate once the morning came with thoma rushing you out before ayaka would arrive.

climbing out a window to avoid the white haired girl he claimed as nothing more than a friend. you knew he was lying to you, hiding it from you. but you didn’t want your fantasy to disappear. not yet.

so much for protecting your delusion. here it was right in your face, his latest post. ayaka and thoma’s hands interlinked in frame, heart emojis as the caption.

a loud laugh escaped your lips as you chucked your phone to the wall without thinking. he had the nerve to ask you to watch his dog while he went out and asked ayaka out officially? what a fucking joke.

you got up, leaving a whimpering taroumaru on thoma’s bed. your now cracked phone in your hands as you hastily sent out a text. scrolling through your device you hit the red block button on all of thoma’s profiles you could find, deleting every single photo you took with him and of things you associated with him. it was time to stop. it was time to let go.

your finger hovered above the delete chat button. did you really want to delete him out of your life completely? all of the memories?

fuck yes.

the way he barely spoke to you at all, messages now limited to a few times a week. never to talk about the things in each others lives, only to watch his dog and sleep together.

with that last button being pushed that was your last door closed to his life. closed to knowing about him and being around him. not like it would have made a difference as he was already a ghost in your life now.

on his desk you left behind the evidence of what used to be what you once believed to be a lifelong friendship. the key to his apartment, a pendant that matched the same one he wore around his neck, and the love letters he had failed to write to ayaka.

taglist: @yuumaofc @jaderose18 @samarill @lelemnh @linkookie197

#genshin angst #genshin x reader #genshin x reader angst #thoma angst #thoma x reader angst #thoma x you #thoma x reader #thoma x y/n

[ownedbyfictionalwomen]

stay

abby anderson x fem!reader

abby wanted what was best for lev, always. so when they come across a house, she sees her opportunity. thank god the owner is a total sweetheart. a little angsty + super fluffy! 2.9kwords.

!timeline wrong, not canon whatsoever, fluff, cuddles, a dog with a stupid name and Lev being funny and cute, a little angsty. divider by @firefly-graphics !

They had spotted the house a few days ago, perched on a little hill and surrounded by dense woodland, perfectly hidden and protected by the natural environment. Lev had wanted to run right up to the front door the second they saw it, his usual fearlessness overpowering any logical thought, reminding Abby about a time she would rather forget… involving heights and bridges.

After a few minutes of bargaining, Abby had convinced Lev that they needed to wait a few days, scope the place out and keep close by. The two set up camp just out of sight and earshot of the house, envy growing every time they peeked at the puffing chimney and the warmth lining the window panes. What Abby wouldn’t do to get inside that house.

It would’ve been a whole lot easier if it was unoccupied, if they could just waltz right in and make themselves at home, take off their boots and hang up their coats. But close observation had pummelled that dream into the ground when they spotted you, bundled up in a brown coat and wool hat, walking a German Sheppard along little desire paths that you had carved into the earth.

You would return to the house with a smile on your face and the sweet dog trailing behind you, reminding Abby of Alice and pulling at her heartstrings. I miss her so much.

The chill of November had started to settle a few nights ago, with days getting shorter and the air getting colder. Lev felt a mild kind of jealousy working its way around him at the sight of you passing in front of the windows with only a t-shirt on, whilst he wrapped himself in every layer he owned. It must be so warm in there. 

When a few suns had set and risen, Abby thought the situation had been assessed enough, thought she had gathered enough information and thought she was ready to march up to that front door and bust it open… and then kindly beg for mercy. 

If Lev wasn’t with her, she probably wouldn’t even have paid the house a second look, she would’ve walked right past and kept on her way to nowhere. But her little companion had begged, literally pulled on her jacket sleeve and dug his heels in, when he spotted the house. 

“We can just… I dunno… walk up and knock on the door.” He whispered, looking down at his fingers, already knowing the reaction he was going to get wasn’t going to be the one that he wanted. 

“You’re kidding, right?”

“She seems nice.” 

“Oh yeah, and you’ve talked to her?” Abby asked with a chuckle, placing her strong hands on her hips and turning around to look at you as you busied yourself in what appeared to be your kitchen.

Lev stayed silent, watching you too with his arms crossed over his chest in quiet defiance, “I can just tell.” 

“You can just tell… right. And what about that massive dog on the porch, huh? What about him?” 

“Hey! You’re the one who told me that dogs are nice.” His face crumpled in annoyance, brow furrowing and lip curling up in minute anger as he pointed a finger at her. He knew Abby was trying to scare him.

“No, I told you Alice was nice.” 

“Look, we overheard her calling it Taco. No dog called Taco can be that bad.” He argued, waving his arms around manically in hopes it would force his point across.

Abby’s face turned fiercely serious, “you know what a taco is, right Lev? It’s not something to joke about. It’s a strain of infected that rips the limbs off people and-”

“Shut up, I know what a taco is. I already told you I’m thirteen, not eight. And don’t you dare say it.”

“You’re the size of an eight-year-old.”

Abby ended up promising to make a move the next time you came outside, just to make it all up to Lev. She didn’t expect the next time you ventured out to be when you were chopping firewood with an axe so big it almost made you topple over. 

But she gathered her composure and climbed the hill slowly, keeping her eye on Taco who sat in his usual spot on the porch steps, panting with his pink tongue hanging out of his mouth. Abby wasn’t going to let his current adorable doe-eyed expression trick her, she knew he could turn at any moment and come bounding at her with red eyes.

Instead, his head lolled to the side at the sight of her and he trotted up to her before flopping onto his back with a cute doggy smile on his face. She bent down and gave him a gentle pat on the head, which was met with a happy whine.

“I was wondering when you were gonna come up here,” you said, turning around and greeting Abby with a pleasant smile. “You took your time. How long were you out there? A week?” 

Her mouth felt like it was wired shut, put in a near-permanent state of shock at your fearlessness (and embarrassment based on the fact that she wasn’t as sneaky as she thought she was). 

“Tell your little friend to come out too.” 

Taco yapped angrily at the loss of Abby’s hand, chasing it with his head. You propped the axe up against a block of wood and made your way towards the house, giving Lev a little wave as he made his way out from behind the treeline from where Abby had come from.

“I’m guessing you guys want showers, and beds, and food. I’ve got everything you need in here.” You smiled as Lev picked up his pace towards you, only for his hood to be grabbed by Abby as they shared some hushed words.

You didn’t need to hear the conversation to know what was being said, you knew your unusual generosity was screaming alarm bells at the pair, but the decision to welcome them into your home (even if they just wanted it for one night) was one that was made quickly and easily. 

The reason: loneliness.

Having spoken to no one but your father, who only came once a week to deliver supplies, it was no wonder you were feeling a little alone. You missed having someone to love on, someone to touch, someone to cuddle. One look at Abby and you decided that she was the only one you would give that to. 

After about thirty seconds, Lev shook Abby off and followed you, rushing up the stairs and through the door, finding you in the kitchen, at the fridge. He gawked at the stocked shelves, and you stood there giggling at him, “help yourself, hun.”

Leaving him to his own devices, you wandered into the living room to find Abby checking the locks on all your windows and pulling the curtains closed. Her powerful frame took up a good chunk of space, filling the room with a sense of security even though there was a feeling far from it painted across her face.

“Hey,” you said quietly, grabbing her attention, “you can leave if you want, or only stay for a few hours, it’s completely up to you.”

Abby couldn’t help but be taken aback by your kindness. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone other than Lev had smiled at her, and here you were opening up your home to her. But she nodded her head as you spoke, trying to show a little appreciation before she started her interrogation.

“What’s in it for you?”

Pursing your lips, you thought it over. The answer was easy enough to come up with, it had spawned in your mind the moment you even thought about the prospect of having someone, other than Taco, to talk to.

“Company?” 

“Okay… and that’s it? You don’t want anything in return?”

“I guess it depends on how long you’re planning on staying.” You answered as Abby took a seat on your battered couch, shrugging her jacket off and relishing the heated air. You followed her lead and took yours off too, laying it over the arm of the chair and sitting down next to her, slowly. “Firewood doesn’t chop itself.”

Abby laughed at that, just a quiet one under her breath that made a grin break out across your face. Maybe you were getting a little ahead of yourself, and maybe it was a little too ambitious… but you really hoped she would stay.

“So, Lev, here you go,” you said. “Here are three blankets just in case you get a little cold, and a pillow, and just letting you know that Taco might crush your feet if you don’t move them because that’s his favourite place to sleep.” 

You looked down at him sprawled out on your couch, his head now propped up on cotton and feathers, making a content sigh burst out of him, “thank you so much.”

“No problem, hun. You get some rest and I’ll make you pancakes in the mornin’, okay?”

“What are pancakes?” 

You giggled, “I guess you’ll see.”

The walk from Lev to your bedroom was short, directly down the hall and behind a chipped door. Your bed was pushed right up in the corner of the room, with a solid white comforter pulled over a soft mattress, topped with cushions and more blankets you had found.

The sounds of water hitting the floor drifted under your bathroom door, along with the steam, as you sat down and waited for Abby to finish showering. You had already laid out some clean underwear and an longsleeve men’s shirt you had found at the bottom of one of your drawers, thinking that it would suit her (and fit her) better than anything you owned.

The two of you had chatted deeply over dinner, her sharing details of the explorations with Lev, how they met, her time at WLF, her friends… more than you thought you deserved to know, but there was something about the compassion in your eyes that made Abby pour her heart out. She felt safer than she ever had when she looked at you, safe in a way no one had ever made her feel. And it was overwhelming.

She used her time in the shower to release the tension, letting the scalding water work over her tired muscles. The tears managed to keep themselves at bay as she stepped out, whimpering at the softness of your bathmat and the warmth of the towel you had left out for her. She dried off and wrapped it around herself, padding over to the door and cracking it open, seeing your face move to her as you jumped up off the corner of the bed.

“Hey…” you started, feeling Abby’s reserved nature, the one she had had when you met earlier, pop back up between you, “I have some pjs here for you… it’s just a shirt and underwear but it’s better than nothing. I can see if I can find some bottoms for you if you’d like, but I-”

“No, no. That’s more than enough, thank you.” 

You nodded, smiling so tenderly at her that she had to avert her gaze to the ground. She was terrified of crying, letting the tears fall and the strength fall with them. Too much attention spent on hiding her emotions, she didn’t notice you in front of her until your hands were on her bare shoulders.

“You’re okay now, Abby. Both of you are safe here.” You whispered, feeling her muscles bunch up underneath your fingers and her shoulders slowly start to shake with tears, “oh, honey.”

You didn’t think twice before wrapping your arms around her the best you could, squeezing her to you fiercely, trying to ground her to you. She had a few inches on you, so you cuddled her around her upper-waist, palms flat in the centre of her back. You considered pulling away when you felt no response from her, scared you had pushed it a little too far, but her own arms wound their way around your shoulders, their weight tying you to her. 

“Thank you.” 

Kissing the side of her neck, your pulled back and took her face in your hands, “it’s my pleasure, baby. And I know we agreed that you would sleep on the floor but, how do you feel about sharing with me? Yeah? I just wanna cuddle.”

Her lips were pouted adorably as she nodded at you, placing her hands on top of yours and winding your fingers together, pulling your right hand to her lips and giving your knuckles a sweet kiss.

Once she had released you, you turned towards your window, letting her get dressed in subtle privacy as you checked and double checked the lock before pulling the blind down, the only light now being your bedside lamp. You then shuffled out of your pyjama pants before laying them over the chair in the corner of the room, only turning around when you heard the quiet rustle of sheets and the familiar creek of your bedframe.

Abby took a deep breath at the sight of you, awaiting the feeling of your skin again, imagining what your thighs would feel like pressed into the back of hers as you spooned her. She pulled the duvet up to her chin, willing the cold cotton to warm up as you climbed up to your side, slinking under the blanket as to not pull any from Abby.

When you reached over her to shut off the light, you paused, staring down at her in barely-contained awe, entranced by her beauty, “you’re gonna stay, right?” 

“I’m staying. We’re staying.” She whispered finitely, watching your eyes dance across her face, drinking her in before you dropped a warm kiss on the corner of her mouth. You smiled and let the room fall into darkness.

Instead of fleeing back over to your side of the bed like Abby thought you might do, you wrapped a leg around her waist, your thigh pressing over her hips and warming her tummy. An arm wrapped around you almost naturally, pulling you closer as you laid a palm on her chest, along with your head. 

Abby fell asleep faster than she ever had.

#abby anderson fluff #abby anderson tlou2 #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson angst #lev tlou

[fanficimagery]

Lucky Dog Rescue

After opening up a dog sanctuary and receiving your first shipment of dogs, you're surprised to receive a werewolf- er, well a man stuck in his werewolf form. You're even more surprised when a handsome stranger strolls into Lucky Dog Rescue, claiming to be the wolf you took care of.

Words: 3.8K

For as long as you can remember, you've always had a connection with animals. You'd begged for a puppy growing up, but given what your family was, it wasn't feasible. So, when you were old enough to fly the coop, after many conditions set in place by your family, you decided to open up Lucky Dog Rescue- a sanctuary for dogs who were set to be euthanized because other shelters had run out of space or because they'd been too long on the adoption list.

Just on the outskirts of Beacon Hills, your family had found and purchased some land for you. There was already a house on the property and it wasn't too hard for your family to hire a construction company to build you your very own animal shelter on the back half of the land. It took a year to get the shelter up to code and running, and now here you are waiting for the first shipment of dogs- only ten of them as of now until you could figure out a routine and eventually hire some help.

From sitting perched on your porch swing, you spot the large truck turning down your driveway. Eager to greet your new rescues, you stand and start making your way down the steps to direct the driver where it is he's supposed to unload the dogs.

Then hopping in a golf cart, you drive towards the shelter yourself.

The truck driver is waiting by the back of his truck, clipboard in hand by the time you pull up next to him. He reads something off his paperwork before saying your name as if questioning your identity. "Yep. That's me."

"Cool." As he starts to unlock the door, the dogs inside start barking and whining. "So is this like a rehabilitation for dogs or something?" The truck driver asks.

"It's more of a temporary home. These dogs are some that were set to be euthanized either because the shelters ran out of room or they'd been waiting too long to be adopted out."

"Shit. Really?" As he climbs into the truck, you climb in behind him to check the dogs in their crates. "There's a Cane Corso in here. He's huge for a puppy though. I'd figured he'd have been adopted out as soon as possible."

"Yeah, Cane Corso's are magnificent pets and guard dogs, but most people can't deal with their size or their food consumption. But I have a good feeling about this one," you muse, squatting so you can poke your fingers through the cage. "I just gotta make sure all these boys and girls are healthy and adoptable before putting their pictures on the web in hopes of finding them a forever home."

As you stand back up, you do a quick head count and frown. When the driver catches you doing so, he chuckles nervously. "Oh, uh, when I picked up the dogs there was an extra." He walks over to the very front of the truck where there's what appears to be a big black dog lying quietly in his crate. "It's assumed he's a wolfdog and he was set to be put down, but he seemed too intelligent to do so. The shelter he came from was hoping you could put him up here."

Making your way to the crate, you crouch and look at the wolfdog. But something about him gives you pause, even more so when he lifts his head and starts to scent the air. Then all of a sudden he starts to growl while staring directly at you and it clicks. "Easy, boy," you coo.

"Huh. That's the most noise I've heard him make," the driver says.

"Yeah, well he probably just picked up a scent on me that he doesn't like," you say. "Which is silly because I swear that this is a safe place," you say, making sure the werewolf understands. The werewolf slowly calms and you smile, reaching in to rub a finger along the top of one of his paws.

"Right," the driver says. "Well everyone else is here. "You have three French Bulldogs, two Australian Cattle dogs, one Australian Shepherd, one Siberian Husky, the Cane Corso, one Border Collie, and one Corgi."

"Nice. Well let's start leashing them and escorting them into the shelter," you say. "Each enclosure has a door that leads them outside to their own enclosed space, so don't worry about them not using the bathroom. They can go as soon as you close the door behind them."

"Got it. I'll get these babies first." You watch as the driver starts leashing the French Bulldogs, baby talking at them as he takes them out of their crates.

As soon as the driver disappears, you look back at the werewolf. "Listen, I know what you are. I don't want to leash you, but I can't have you running off before we can figure out what to do with you." The werewolf tilts his head, snuffling, and you gesture to yourself. "Only human in a family full of werewolves. I know a werewolf when I see one, so you're safe here. My family lives an hour away, so you don't have to worry about encroaching on any pack territory. It's just me. Trust me?" The werewolf huffs and you grin. "Excellent. I'm going to open the door now, so please don't run off. You'll have to go in an enclosure, but as soon as the driver leaves you can join me at the house."

You open his crate and he steps out, stretching. He stays by your side and you grin before grabbing a leash and leashing the Australian Shepherd.

Side by side, the truck driver helps you get the dogs situated in their own enclosures. Then after thanking him and sending him off, the werewolf watches as you give the other dogs their own bowls of food and water.

"Come on," you gesture for him to follow you. "Let's head to my house and try to figure out a plan for you. I doubt you want to sleep on a cushion on the floor with your fellow canines."

The werewolf follows you and trots side by side the golf cart as you take off.

Walking up the porch, you kick off your boots before pointing at the doormat. "Wipe your paws, please."

You hold the door open for him while he does so and then he trots into your house without any hesitance. You follow him in, heading towards the kitchen and grab yourself something to drink. Then turning around, you find the werewolf staring right at you. You startle in surprise and then laugh at your own jumpiness.

"Right," you drag out the word. "So, uh, can you shift back or…?" The werewolf barks and shakes his head. You sigh. "Of course you can't." Frowning, you glance all around and try to figure out how you're going to communicate with him. Then an idea comes to you. "I got it! Stay here."

Rushing from the room, you head to one of your storage closets and pull out bin after bin to find what you're looking for. Soon enough, you find several buttons that can be programmed to say different things. Then after finding the USB wire, you take the buttons back with you to the living room where your laptop is so you can program words so the werewolf can answer you.

"So I thought I could use these buttons to train some of the dogs, but I guess I'll be using them on you," you say as you plug the red button in. "Red will be no, green will be yes, and white will be I don't know. Sound good?"

The werewolf sits and you get to work programming three of the buttons. Once done, you set out each button in front of him.

"Okay, so, just to make sure… can you change back?"

The wolf gives you a deadpan stare before raising a paw and stepping on the red button. "No."

"Okay. Do you have a pack?"

"Yes."

"Oh. Do you want me to contact-"

"No."

"What? Why not?" You frown. "Are you running away from them?"

"No."

You sigh. "This would be so much easier if you could actually talk." Then taking a moment to think, you ask, "So if you can't change back, was this done to you on purpose?"

"Yes."

"Wow. Okay." You stare at the wolf, not knowing what to do. "I… I'm at a loss here, man. This was done to you on purpose, but you don't want me to contact your pack. Do you want me to contact mine and-"

"No."

"Do you think this will wear off?"

"I don't know."

You run a hand over your face, rubbing the space between your brows. "I'm probably out of my damn mind, but as someone who knows about pack dynamics, I feel like I can trust you. Can I trust you?"

"Yes."

"Well I mean anyone would say that, but oh well. You seem pretty sane. If you were a crazed omega, I think you would've been thrashing in that crate of yours. Or tried to attack me by now." The wolf sits and tilts his head at you. "Ugh. I might regret this, but screw it. Since you're stuck in this form, I don't want you out there in the elements. I have a spare bedroom you can use, but the second you're back to human status, you're replacing the mattress and sheets."

The wolf huffs and steps forward, stepping on the green button. "Yes."

"Good. And just so you know, I'm giving you a month. If you haven't changed back by then, we're calling your pack." The wolf's ears twitch and you grin, pushing yourself to stand. "Alright, so I'm hungry. What do you think about eating and just settling in? I'll program more buttons tomorrow, but for now I'll keep it to yes or no questions."

The wolf nods, licking his chomps.

As you start heading towards the kitchen, you hesitate. "Oh, wait! I don't even know your name. Or should I just call you Wolfie for now?"

The wolf barks, brushing past you and you laugh as he goes.

Day to day with a strange werewolf is bound to be interesting.

Over the course of the month with Wolfie, you find that you quite like his company even though the only way he can speak with you is through the buttons or tiles of the alphabet that he steps on to spell out something. Of course, getting used to his presence took a few days- days that left you embarrassed beyond belief when you accidentally flashed him your underwear after waking up and walking downstairs in nothing but a shirt and underwear to brew your coffee.

Wolfie, who eventually spelled out that his name was Derek, took to roaming your property while you worked with the dogs. He avoided the veterinarian when she stopped by to give everyone a check-up, and then avoided the two teenage boys who the veterinarian sent your way to clean the kennels since they needed volunteer hours for their college applications.

During the day you took care of your animals with the help of two teenage boys, taking pictures to add to your website in hopes of adopting the little furballs out. You even made flyers which the boys took into town, taping them around town and leaving them at places of establishment.

And then at night, you made dinner for you and Derek who quickly made himself comfortable on the sectional in your living room after promising to replace anything he ruined.

When the month officially ends, Derek is stubborn about keeping mum about his pack. And every time you mention it, Derek trots over to the yellow button to press it. Stay. He won't tell you anything about his pack, so you don't know where to start looking for them and you really don't want to inform your family.

But then halfway into the second month, two men that appear in their early twenties walk into Lucky Dog Rescue and you know Derek must know them by the way he perks up from his position by the front desk.

The paler individual of the two spots Derek, his eyes widening as he makes a beeline for him which forces his brown skinned companion to quickly follow. You smile at them, especially when one of them kneels in front of Derek to meet his gaze and Derek sniffs before turning his head.

"Hi," you greet them, walking over. "Can I help you guys?"

The brown skinned young man suddenly looks sheepish as he smiles at you. "Uh, yeah. Sorry about him," he says. "I'm Scott. My friend here is Stiles. I, uh, I saw a flier for this place at the vet clinic I work for and thought what you were doing was pretty awesome."

"Yeah." Your demeanor softens a little. "I've always loved animals so it was a no brainer about what I wanted to do when I had the means to do it."

"That's awesome." His smile is quite contagious, especially when he glances at Stiles and you see that Stiles is dead set on gaining Derek's attention. Even when Derek doesn't want to give it and keeps averting his attention. "Anyway, I looked up your website and saw some of the canines you had available. We saw the, uh, the wolfdog and thought we might inquire into whether or not he was up for adoption."

"Sorry, guys, but he is not. I'm actually trying to track down his family."

"What?!" Stiles yelps. Scott's eyes widen as he glances between you and his friend, and you shrug. "But- but he's ours!"

You arch an eyebrow at him. "Is that so?"

"Yes!"

"Then why does our furry little friend seem to want nothing to do with you?"

Stiles gapes as he glances back at Derek, gently tweaking one of his ears. "Come on, sourwolf, and let the nice lady know we're family."

Derek yawns in Stiles' face before getting up and trotting over to his mat of buttons. Then staring directly at Stiles, Derek steps on the red one. "No." Now both Stiles and Scott are gaping, and you're left trying to stifle your laughter.

"Derek!" Stiles snaps and you mentally perk up. So they know his name, huh. Maybe they are telling the truth. "This isn't funny. We need to get you home. We've been searching everywhere for you."

The turquoise button is pressed next. "Bitch."

You slap a hand too little too late over your mouth after a laugh has escaped and you shrug when Scott and Stiles stare at you. "He's, uh, he's really intelligent and I've been using the buttons to communicate with him," you tell him. "The bitch button was for shits and giggles. He's never used it until now though."

Stiles' eyes narrow while glancing back at Derek. "I hope she gave you a flea bath," he hisses.

You start to giggle and walk around the counter, giving up the act. "Alright, Derek, game's over. I know you know them because if not, you would have already pressed the purple button until I locked myself back up at the house."

"Purple button?" Scott asks. "What's the purple say?"

Derek refuses to press it, so Stiles does. "Danger."

"He's only pressed it twice since he's been here, but fortunately they were false alarms." Scott and Stiles nod, and you grin. "So which one of you is the werewolf?"

They both freeze. "You know?" Stiles asks.

"Yep. Perks of growing up as the only human in a pack," you tell them. "I could tell Derek wasn't a wolfdog like I was told, so when he wasn't thrashing in his crate or trying to attack me when he was let out, I took a chance on him. However, as a human, I can't tell who's who." Stiles continues to gape and Scott nervously shifts from foot to foot. Then while trying not to appear intimidating, Scott lets his eyes flash red. You smile at him before bowing your head slightly in respect for him. "Welcome, alpha."

"Hi. You don't know how much we appreciate you looking after Derek. It's been hell trying to track him down."

"Well I'm glad you found my flier and website. He says he's stuck, but he wanted to wait the curse out in hopes of transforming back. I gave him a month, but he's been a stubborn little shit and refused to tell me anything about his pack since then."

"Yep. Sounds like Derek," Stiles says, standing up while glaring at him. "So, uh, since he technically can't be adopted out, can we just take him?"

"Yeah! Sorry," you chuckle. And then when you glance back down at Derek, you're hit with a wave of emotion that makes your eyes sting. Laughing at yourself, you squat down and raise a hand to rub at the side of his neck. "So this is goodbye, huh? I didn't actually think it would suck this bad." Derek steps towards you, headbutting you. You smile softly. "Maybe I should have made you stay out here instead of inside my home. I think I got attached."

Derek steps back, but before he leaves he steps over to the buttons one last time. While glancing at you, he steps on the pink. "Friend."

You slowly smile and give him a nod. "Always."

The days drag on after Derek's departure, so you throw yourself into work.

Surprisingly, you manage to adopt out five dogs- the husky, the French Bulldogs, and the Corgi. Those five are quickly replaced and then word must have traveled about Lucky Dog Rescue because you start receiving visitor after visitor, and dog after dog find their forever home.

When you're able to start hiring employees, the number of dogs in the shelter steadily rises. The shelter can only hold up to fifty dogs, yet the most dogs you've had at one time is twenty-eight.

Then when work starts to slow and you settle into an easy routine, your days with Derek haunt you. Especially at night when you grew accustomed to having him join you on the sofa or trotting around your house, and now it's complete silence. Sometimes you missed him so much that you thought about asking around for an alpha Scott to see if they ever returned Derek to his human self, but then you thought better of it. He'd reach out if and when he wanted to.

So instead, you adopted.

You adopt a Basset Hound that had been surrendered to your shelter because the owners were moving and couldn't take Beau with them, and he won your heart over almost immediately.

Beau liked to go on walks every now and then, but he most enjoyed curling up on the couch with you or curling up on his bed under the front desk down at the shelter while you were working.

One day, while it's slow and your employees are taking care of the dogs in the back, you sit down on the floor in front of the front counter to play fetch with Beau. He's enjoying chasing a tennis ball and then playing keep away with it. You don't notice when the front door jingles to signify a possible client, but you do notice when Beau whines and runs behind the counter.

Gaping at your dog, you shake your head in disbelief at him. "Some guard dog you are, punk." There's a deep chuckle and you glance up at the stranger- the very handsome stranger, actually- and quickly climb to your feet. "Hi. Sorry about that. Welcome to Lucky Dog Rescue. What can I do for you?"

The dark haired man shrugs, sliding his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. "I believe I owe you a new mattress. And my thanks."

"Excuse me?"

"My name is Derek Hale. It's nice to finally speak with you." You gape at the man standing before you before you snap out of your stupor and rush forward. But before you can touch him, you freeze.

"Uhhh… is it weird that I want to hug you right about now?"

"Not at all." He pulls his hands from his pockets, spreading his arms, and you readily latch on to him. He chuckles as you laugh in glee. "So I see the shelter is doing good."

"It is! Yeah."

As you pull back from the embrace, he asks, "Is Beau yours or…?"

"Mhm. Mine," you tell him. You walk around the counter to drag Beau back out, intent on making him greet Derek so he knows he's not a threat. "Kind of got used to having a companion in my house that I learned pretty fast it sucks living alone." Derek squats and holds his hand out, smiling as you coo at Beau and assure him that the big cuddly werewolf doesn't mean either of you any harm. "So did you guys get everything squared away? Did you find who cursed you in your wolf form?"

"We did. Scott doesn't like to use violence, so it took us a while to broker a treaty with some witches that were looking to settle in Beacon Hills."

You wince. "Witches are sneaky. I hope you worded the treaty very carefully."

"We knew exactly what they were after. It's what everyone's after and why Beacon Hills is a beacon for the supernatural," he says. "The treaty wasn't one necessarily for peace. It was a treaty stating that if they stepped foot back in our territory, all niceties go out the window and the pack is allowed to attack."

"Good."

Derek nods. "And on another note, I actually came in to adopt."

You perk up. "Really?!"

"Yeah. I've been checking your website and I saw the Corso was still here."

"Yes." You sigh sadly. "Everyone likes to look at him and get his hopes up. He's just too big for anyone to care for around here."

"Well then I guess it's a good thing I have the means to care for him."

You slowly grin. "Does this mean I get picture updates of him?"

"I will bring him by whenever you want. Or you can drop by my place and even bring Beau along. We can have a… playdate of sorts for the dogs."

"A playdate for the dogs, huh?"

Derek smiles. "And maybe the owners if Beau's mom is up to it."

"Oh. I'm pretty sure Beau's mom is up for it." You laugh. "But before we can go on those playdates, we need to get you your pup."

"Dante. His name's going to be Dante."

"Nice." You then gesture for him to follow you to the back. "Let's go get Beau's new friend Dante then."

#derek hale x reader #derek hale imagine #derek hale fanfiction #teen wolf imagine #teen wolf fanfiction #derek hale #scott mccall #stiles stilinski #teen wolf

[outerbankies]

new light: head over heels — rafe cameron

new light masterlist

summary: You and Rafe make your first return to the Outer Banks after moving away for good, and it doesn't take either of you long to remember all of the reasons you left.

warnings: alcohol and swearing might be it?

a/n: HI HI HI!!! it's happening!!! posting this behemoth (22k-ish last i checked) and dipping immediately, because i'm still not done with season 3 and don't want to get spoiled on here. thank you SO MUCH for holding on for this one - and congratulations to everyone who voted on season 3 arriving before the thanksgiving fic lol. see u soon!!! (this takes place in new light present day)

“Are we really doing this?”

You roll your eyes, albeit fondly, as this is at least the fifth time Rafe has asked you the same question in the last two weeks. The first time was immediately after the flights were booked, the second before he formally requested the vacation time at work. He asked you for the third time when you requested his help in dragging your suitcases out of the closet, which he did begrudgingly. The next time, the fourth, was as you both waited tired and bleary-eyed at your plane’s gate, bright and early this morning at the airport. 

Now he asks you again, as the ferry between Chapel Hill and the Outer Banks starts pulling up to the dock. Passengers have already begun their descent down to the lower levels, to get their cars and queue up to disembark. But you and your boyfriend remain on the upper deck, observing your hometown as the ferry flushes itself to the dock.

“How many times do I have to tell you?” you ask, arms crossing over your chest.

“As many times as it takes for me to believe this was the right choice,” Rafe sighs, turning to look out at the coastline, back the way you came.

“We’re here now,” you point out unhelpfully. “We’re doing this. It’s only four days, baby. We’ve got this.”

“Four nights,” he corrects you, with a furrow in his brows. “Five days, if you count today.”

“Rafe, I’m not your enemy.”

He looks down at you, and you hate that you can already see all the signs of his stress. The missed signals, the tightness in his face and in his shoulders. It was an instant physical reaction to being back in town for Thanksgiving, a few measly months after you’d both left it behind. 

“I know,” Rafe says softly. He places a hand between your shoulder blades, guiding you into his hold, the beer he’d bought at concessions placed on a hightop table behind you. “Hey, c’mere. I know.”

As much as you know it’s your turn to be the strong one, you let him comfort you selfishly, just for a moment. You weren’t near the state Rafe was in, but you’d be lying if you weren’t feeling the nerves as soon as you boarded the ferry, too. It didn’t help that you’d just discovered the airline had left your bag in California, which Rafe swore was a bad omen. You don’t care what he thought it was, as long as he understood you’d be living in a combination of his clothes and whatever you left behind in your childhood bedroom until the airline could fix it.

At least you both have Captain for emotional support, sitting patiently between your legs, where he usually seems to fit himself. You’d become those people you’d always made fun of in your head, the ones that couldn’t leave their house without their dog. Sending him to the cargo hold in his crate was about as much distance as either of you could handle.

“Holy shit,” Rafe suddenly says, the hand he’d been rubbing your back with slowing to a stop. 

“What?” 

“Don’t look now, but our friends are fucking insane,” he chuckles.

Of course you look immediately—and sure enough, Kelce and Topper (plus Blythe), and Gretchen and Margot are all grouped together on the dock. You feel yourself smile involuntarily at them, tucking your face into Rafe’s chest bashfully. “They’re so embarrassing.”

He’s still laughing in disbelief, the sound resonating in your chest. “Why did they all come?” 

“‘Cause they love us,” you say simply. You have no idea how you’ll all fit in however many cars, or who’s even supposed to be driving you home, but you can’t find it in you to care as you finally disembark from the ferry with your dog, Rafe on your heels with his bag. 

“Finally,” Kelce says dramatically, once you approach the group. “I was starting to think you two were finally rain-checking my party.” 

“We’d never,” you say, just as dramatically, before you’re letting yourself get crushed in a group hug from your girlfriends.

“Can confirm,” Margot whispers conspiratorially to the group. “No baby bump.”

“You guys,” you laugh, pushing her wandering hand away from your middle. “Come on.”

“It’s a valid fear!” Gretchen cries incredulously, pressing kisses to both of your cheeks.

Then you trade spots with Rafe, to squish Topper and Blythe in your arms as well, and they squish you back just as hard. “We missed you guys so much. Please come visit.”

“You come visit,” Topper counters. 

“Tried a New England winter once, and I’m good for life, man,” Rafe says, before bringing Margot and Gretchen into his arms. “You guys have to come out.”

“Kelso,” you sigh, surprised to feel a lump in your throat when your best friend hugs you for the first time in you don’t know how long. Kelce’s career took him to Texas after college, and you’d definitely seen him the least out of all of them in the past year or so. “I missed you.”

“Missed you even more. How are you guys?” he asks, words coming out garbled through the squished cheeks you’re currently giving him. “How’s Rafe? Or do we talk later?”

“He’s good,” you tell him honestly. “On edge, you know. But good.”

“And how are you?” he says quieter, and you have to roll your eyes at his earnestness, if even just to prevent yourself from actually crying.

“I’m good, too,” you say, linking a pinky with his quickly. 

Kelce breaks out into a grin, squeezing your pinky back before bringing you into another hug. “You look a hell of a lot better than the last time I picked you up here.”

You detangle your hand from his in order to smack him on the back of his head while he just howls with laughter. It’s easy to look back on it—two years ago now—and laugh. But Kelce had been there for you and your broken heart, and sometimes you think his tough love was half the reason you and Rafe even made it back to each other. 

“Very clever,” you concede, before remembering something with a spark of excitement. “But tell me about you! When does she get here?”

Kelce’s cool demeanor fades when he becomes embarrassed immediately, reaching down to find solace in petting Captain, who seems to be just as excited about the reunion. “Wednesday morning. I’m driving out to the airport to get her.”

Therese was the first girl Kelce had actually told you about since high school, let alone brought home to meet everyone. You were so excited when he called to tell you that Rafe made you  promise to manage your expectations, but you couldn’t help it. 

“So she’ll make the party,” you realize excitedly. “Gosh, I can’t wait to meet her.”

“I’m nervous. Nervous, but excited,” he admits. “I don’t wanna overwhelm her. She’s meeting my parents, and then all of you idiots. All in one day.”

“Hey,” Rafe protests, suddenly slotting back into your side once he’s done fake boxing with Topper. “We are not.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it,” Kelce says, rolling his eyes. “Come on, you guys are riding with me. We have a table at the Island Club an hour from now, think you can manage that?”

You cut your eyes to Rafe, and he already looks a little loosened up after seeing everyone, and he just nods, shrugging his shoulders as if to say why not. “We can say hi to your parents and freshen up. Wheeze has school and Sarah won’t be in until tonight anyway.” 

It seems Rafe has no such plans to see his father any sooner than he has to, possibly not before Thanksgiving at all, you realize. You didn’t even bother to ask Rafe if he’d prefer to stay in his old room at Tannyhill or with you, knowing the answer already. But you’d naively hoped he’d feel comfortable enough to not avoid his father like the plague after some time away. 

“Yeah, we can do that,” you answer, looking back at Kelce with a smile to confirm. You let Captain into the backseat while Kelce takes Rafe’s bag, squealing in surprise when your boyfriend’s hands grip your waist firmly before you get in the car. 

“Hey,” he says quietly, just for you. The sea breeze has already mussed up his hair, and there’s something so comforting about coming back here with him, knowing you’ve always got someone in your corner. Rafe must agree, because he presses his forehead to yours quickly. “I love you.”

“I love you,” you say, giving him a peck modest enough that it won’t tick off Kelce or the rest of your friends piling into Topper’s Jeep beside you. “You can do this.”

“We can do this,” he corrects. “You know. I’m not letting you out of my sight.” 

— 

“I still can’t believe they put me up in the guest house,” Rafe whines, three Bloody Mary’s in, as you both exit the Island Club a few hours later. 

Kelce had given you the ride there, but you both opted for the walk back home, rather than wrangling any younger siblings for a ride. Dylan landed yesterday, but he wanted to have a talk with your parents alone and you needed to stop in at the store anyway. 

Rafe reminded you on the flight that Rose had asked you to make a pie again this year, and Captain was antsy from all of the travel; giving him a second to trot around in the fresh air seemed like a good idea.

You maybe should’ve mentioned it to Rafe sooner, that your mom had been planning to have the guest house—not even one of the guest rooms, but the actual house, which was an entire backyard away from the main property—made up when you asked to have him stay with you for the holiday. But he was already hanging on by a thread about this trip, and you knew he’d beg even harder to cancel if he found out he wouldn’t be crashing with you.

But the shocked look on his face that he quickly tried to hide as he watched your mom tell Dylan to take his bags to the house had absolutely been a little bit worth it.

The displeased grumbling all throughout lunch, maybe not so much.

“She knows we’ve lived together for almost two years now, right? And that before that, we were visiting each other in college all the time?” he prattles on, words growing soft around the edges, not yet to the point of syrupy slow. “And that before that, I was in your bedroom every other night?” 

“Everything but that last one,” you wince.

“So it’s about the house,” he realizes, the two of you now standing outside of the grocery store.  “Her house,” you correct. “Not until we’re married. Maybe she’ll let it go when we’re engaged.” 

Rafe’s face turns mischievous, and you wish that second round of mimosas hadn’t let you let that slip. 

“Noted.”

You roll your eyes, feeling heat flush your cheeks. “Stop. Are you coming in, too? I only need a few things.”

“You go,” he says, not not grinning at your flustered state. He raises your intertwined hands between you, pressing a kiss to the back of yours. Your eyes catch on his notably bare left hand. “Captain’s gonna get snatched up if we leave him tied up out here.” 

“I’m still so sad you lost that ring,” you tell him, pouting. 

Rafe didn’t seem to mind much at all when the gold cigar band went missing after a morning surf, but you were really gonna miss seeing the trademark piece glinting on his hand in the sunlight, or pressing cold into your skin. You’d been looking for replacements ever since, but he was in no rush. 

“It really wasn’t that big of a deal,” he promises, eyes leaving yours.

“It was to me. You’ve worn it forever. I loved that one,” you say, tugging on his bare finger, tracing where the indent was slowly releasing from his skin; the tan-line was pretty horrendous too.

“I know you did,” Rafe teases. “You ripped it off my hand to try on all the time. Maybe you took it.”

“Did not!” you gasp, offended.

Rafe just rolls his eyes, finally kissing the pout off of your lips. “Go, c’mon. Pie won’t bake itself.” 

You hand over Captain’s leash and walk in, still feeling flustered, like you do every time Rafe starts to talk about rings. The way you just barely dodge his ass slap—outside of the local health food store, for god’s sake—doesn’t do anything to help.

Thanksgiving wasn’t for a few days, but Rose had raved and raved about the pumpkin pie you’d brought last year, and you were feeling the pressure—you knew you needed to get a jump on the shopping, so you’d have time to fuck it up at least three or four times before deeming one acceptable.

There’s only so many options for pumpkin puree, but you discriminate over them tirelessly, half because you’re never not set on impressing Rose, and half because your mind is still distracted by Rafe and his “noted.” Things were serious between you about as soon as you started dating, but he’d really been pushing the marriage thing lately.

“Y/n?”

You drop whatever can of pumpkin you’d most recently scrutinized into your basket in near shock, thankful it lands there and not on the floor, all over the shoes of you and Rafe’s ex-girlfriend.

“Chloe,” you say, forcing a smile amid the shock. “Wow, hi.”

“Hey,” she says, pushing her cart toward you. “What a trip.”

It’s the holidays and your town is small, you were bound to see some familiar faces this week whether you wanted to or not, but you’re still in disbelief. “Yeah, um, wow. How are you?”

“Great,” she says, her voice resonating so clearly that you believe her. “I live in New York now, I don’t know if you heard.”

You don’t make a habit of keeping tabs on Rafe’s exes these days, and you and Chloe were hardly ever friends to begin with, so you can answer this truthfully. “No, I hadn’t, actually. But that’s great. Do you like it?”

“Love it,” she corrects, stepping forward to gather a few cans of the puree you’d just been eyeing. She picks them out without a second thought, mixing brands and haphazardly throwing them into her cart, lacking a care in the world, oozing self-assuredness. “I just needed that quick pace, you know? Don’t take this the wrong way, but I always felt like life was too slow around here for me. I wasn’t made for the Stepford life.”

You scratch the back of your neck awkwardly, finally deciding on a couple of cans that look like they’d pass the test to sit in Rose’s pantry that’s always oscillating between the newest diet. “Uh, yeah. No, I get it. It’s always nice to be back for the holidays though. We just got in today.”

That seems to pique her interest, and your head falls forward slightly when you realize your mistake. “You and Rafe? Last I heard you still lived in town.” 

“We did,” you nod. “For a year after grad. But we moved to California at the end of the summer, so.” 

“Wow,” she says, and a small part of you is satisfied that she looks off-balance. Chloe Merrick was never like that. Maybe your teenage mind had exaggerated it at the time in some twisted game of self-comparison, but it looks like it still rang true as she stands before you. Her heels make her stand taller than you, allowing her to look directly down her nose. Her full face of makeup and shiny hair makes you regret letting Kelce rush you out of the house with minimal primping. It’s like she reads your mind, her eyes flicking over your outfit. “Ah, now the outfit makes sense.”

You blink, looking down at your leggings and back to her in silence.

“Well, the traveling and all,” she says awkwardly, like she expected you to agree. “But California, that’s fun. I never thought I’d see Rafe leave the OBX. And it’s nice that Ward lets him work remotely.” 

You can’t hide your discontent at that, because Chloe doesn’t know Rafe well enough at all anymore—and probably never really did, for that matter—to make assumptions about where he’d end up in life, or insinuate that he’d be under Ward forever. “He doesn’t work for his dad, actually.”

When she fish-mouths, you have to look away to not let it get to your head, focusing on the rest of your grocery list on your phone. 

But she clears her throat, and that perfect smile slots back into its rightful place. “Well, we can see how long that lasts.”

The last thing you want is for Chloe to think she’d made it under your skin, or that she’s in anyway correct about you or Rafe, or that you’d care at all what she’d think about either of you. So you cock your head to the side innocently, steeling your expression as best you can. “How do you mean?”

“Oh, be serious, Y/n,” she says, pretenses officially dropped. “Rafe got the perfect, cookie-cutter Figure 8 life he always wanted. And he got it with you. I doubt he even knows how to want anything else.”

Chloe and Rafe dated for six months. Six months of avoiding him, avoiding both of them, toiling over your feelings alone, and associating way too many soundtracks to your teenage angst with the entire situation that there’s still a few songs you won’t touch to this day. 

You’ve loved him for years, and she really thinks she knows him better.

“It’s a good thing you weren’t made for that life, then, isn’t it?” you say, slowly backing away. 

She falters, again, and you know thats your cue. “Nice seeing you, Chloe.” 

—

Spring Break, 6 years ago

“Can I sit here?”

Topper’s eyebrows lift in surprise, but he gestures to the seat across from him readily, tucking his outstretched legs in. “Of course you can.”

You cast one last look at the rest of the small, private plane—Gretchen and Margot, occupying the credenza, looking at you in utter confusion when you give them a half-assed shrug, Kelce looking similarly confused in the club seat opposite the aisle from Topper when you decline a seat near him too, and Rafe and Chloe toward the back, right across from the girls. 

You meant to get to the tarmac the earliest of all of your friends to pick your seat first. But you couldn’t get to bed early enough the night before and slept through almost all of your alarms, and somehow arrived last. 

“What, didn’t wanna watch them play footsie all flight?” Topper quips, following your gaze, and you’re reminded exactly why you chose to sit next to him. 

For the last three months that Rafe had been dating Chloe, everyone in your friend group had been treating you with kid gloves. Everyone except Topper Thornton. To be completely fair, Kelce knows you best of them all, and Gretchen and Margot may or may not have witnessed a drunken breakdown at a girls’ night two weeks ago (that they swore they’d never speak of). 

But there were still the sad eyes, the wayward glances whenever Chloe walked into the room, the less than discrete subject changes and conversation redirectors. You knew it came from a good place but you were sick of them assuming they knew your feelings. And you knew Topper would never dare assume your feelings, let alone act on it. 

He was a constant, the one you’d known longest out of all of them. But that didn’t mean you were the closest, and maybe that’s what made it perfect. Maybe Topper couldn’t read through your bullshit, or maybe he just didn’t feel the need to. Either way was fine with you, if you were going to survive this week. Kelce’s parents had offered up their rental property in the Hamptons to your friends, and after just narrowly convincing Gretchen’s dad to let her go this year, the friendship group had remained in tact, even welcoming one new member.

“Not my cup of tea,” you finally answer, settling into your seat, which was perfectly facing away from the rest of your friends. You pull your hoodie up over your head anyway, tucking your legs under you and opening the window shade.

“I’m probably going to be a boring seat buddy. I got zero sleep last night,” Topper tells you around a yawn. 

You can feel your eyes begging to flutter closed after the lack of sleep you got last night, when you were already toiling over the week that lie ahead. So you settle into your seat more, resting your head against the back of your seat. “Perfect.”

—

It made sense to cling to Topper a little bit after that.

At first, you merely opted to ride in the Uber he requested from the airport, ignoring Kelce’s second betrayed look of the morning when you didn’t pile in with him. But then you also sat next to him when you stopped at the seafood shack on the way home. 

You loved Topper for his obliviousness, but later that night, he still picked up on enough to move the decorative pillow hogging the spot next to him on the loveseat when everyone was gathering around for a movie night.

Topper was quiet, calm and safe—a breath of air among the suffocation you were feeling lately, and that’s all it was. 

And when he’d gone to the gym with Kelce in the morning, you figured you could find solace in a book out on the back porch instead. Rafe and Chloe were unaccounted for, their PDA and softened tones not to be missed by you any time soon, and Margot and Gretchen were still asleep when you left your shared room that morning. 

You obviously hadn’t gone as far as bunking with Topper for the week, but you pulled a pretty good “gosh, I’m so tired” act when you finally slipped into your bottom bunk below Gretchen, turning away from Margot across the room to face the wall. Prying eyes easily ignored.

You don’t possess an ordered list of who you’d most like to be opening the screen door only two chapters into your book that morning, but Chloe Merrick was decidedly not very high on it.

Before Rafe started bringing her around, you never knew enough about Chloe to make anything of her. She wasn’t in any of your classes, but Kildare Academy was small enough that you’d heard of her here and there. She ran in other circles from what you could tell, and she was always nice. You hadn’t heard it from Rafe’s mouth first, but Kelce’s. 

He’d lobbed it out into the open during a study session, and you’d brushed it off to move to the next question, not opting to face it until you had to at the next Boneyard party, when Rafe officially brought her into the group. You aren’t proud of the decisions that you made that night, between getting over-served on beer you didn’t even like and almost macking on a pogue who was cute enough before going home and making yourself very familiar with Chloe’s Vsco account. Pictures of Rafe in the sunset, holding ice cream cones, sitting in the cab of his truck—it’s a miracle your drunken thumb didn’t slip and blow your cover. 

“Hey Y/n. Mind if I join you?” she asks. You’d never say no, but the thumb holding your book open twitches when you hear the door shut again immediately. Followed by her footsteps—she didn’t wait for an answer. 

“Of course. Are you having fun so far?” you ask her, when she settles into the chair beside you.

“So much,” Chloe says. “Kelce’s place is sick. I feel silly that I was nervous when Rafe asked me here.”

“Nervous?” you ask. “Why?”

“I guess I just always thought you and Margot and Gretchen were so… cliquey?” she says without preamble. “I mean, me—I’ll make friends with anyone.”

“We’re not really a clique,” you say, laughing lightly to mask your discomfort. “We’re close, but there are no initiation ceremonies here.”

If she could tell you were joking, she doesn’t show that she picked up on it, shrugging instead. “I don’t know, you’ve always seemed so… reserved, the group of you. Especially you. I swear, I hardly ever see you without one of the crew inside.”

“They’re my best friends,” you say, matching her shrug. “I’ve known most of them since we were kids. It’s just always been like this.”

“I’ll take your word for it that there wasn’t a group vote on bringing me here,” she says, letting you off even if she doesn’t believe you. And you don’t think she does.

An incredibly awkward silence ensues after that, and you blurt the first thing that comes to mind to eliminate it. “How are things with Rafe?”

“Good,” she says, her eyes suddenly lighting up, your stomach twisting into the knot that had made its home there recently. “Really good. I like him a lot.”

“I can tell he likes you a lot, too. You guys are great together,” you tell her. “I’ve never seen him… well, he’s never really been very serious with anyone, I don’t think.” 

“Yeah, that’s what he said,” she says. “And I was surprised, honestly, I thought… well, can I be straight up with you?” 

“Yes?” you say, maybe against your better judgment. 

Chloe’s eyes shift away from you, and she shakes her head at the thought. “I kind of always thought you guys had a thing for each other. If not dating, at least hooking up. Like, I honestly thought Rafe was lying to me when he denied it.” 

You blink slowly, waiting for a punchline to hit, waiting for her to laugh in your face. To revel in the fact that she tricked you into ever thinking anyone would think you had a chance with Rafe. That he cared about you in that way at all, to the point where other people would pick up on it. But that never comes, and Chloe finally looks at you again, prompting you to speak. 

“U-us?“ you ask, picking at the spine of your book. “Rafe and me?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, no,” you counter, catching up to the purpose of this conversation, getting past the confusing mixture of guilt, surprise, and maybe even giddiness that someone could make that mistake. Someone who likes Rafe enough to pursue him could mistake your friendship for anything beyond that. “No, we’re just friends.”

“Well, yeah, but…” she trails off. “I don’t know. I sensed a vibe, like most people at school I think.”

“Most people?” you ask, feeling your eyes bug out of your head. 

“Yeah, when I told my friend Riley—you know her?”

“I… think so?” you say, hoping not to feed into the cliquey thing, but ultimately failing. Chloe seems unsurprised, but you can’t focus on that right now.

“I dunno, I had a crush on Rafe for a while but could never really get a read on it. She told me I was crazy, that you two have basically been dating since you could walk,” she explains. The tips of your ears start burning.

“We haven’t,” you clarify. “We really, really haven’t.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” she says, a touch dramatically, almost leading you to believe that this isn’t something she’d put to rest after talking with Rafe about it.

That thought—that realization that she’d talked with Rafe about it, about you—sends you into a  quick spiral. You imagine how he must have reacted—did he laugh? Would Rafe laugh about something like that? 

You realize you’ve let the silence drag again, and as you trip over your next question, you wish you would’ve never come to read out here this morning. 

“So did he—did Rafe… Rafe must have made the first move then, right?”

Chloe scoffs, smiling like you’re naive as she places her hands behind her head. “Why? Because he’s the guy?”

“No, no,” you say in a rush. “Of course not. You can totally make the first move. I just meant, if you thought we were together…”

“Oh. Yeah,” she says, now carrying your embarrassment. “Well, I guess it doesn’t matter now, since things changed and we’re official and whatever. At first, I kind of just wanted to hook up with him.”

“Ah,” you say quietly, your book twitching in your grasp, your thumbnail digging into the hard cover. 

“We were at a party. And I think you were gone, which is probably why I even got his attention in the first place. At least in my mind, at the time,” she explains, but you don’t believe it, not entirely. How Chloe could ever feel threatened by you is beyond you, so you assume it’s something else. “And I don’t know, I just decided ‘what the heck, he’s so cute. He can tell me to fuck off if he wants to.’”

You can’t imagine Rafe talking to her like that, or you like that. Or any girl like that. But you nod along, wondering how much more of this you even want to hear. 

“But he didn’t. And he didn’t even want to hook up,” she says, shifting herself to gain a sliver more of sun. “I mean, yeah, we kissed at that party. But considering everything… I don’t know, I was confused. Like why stop there?”

“Right,” you say, finally deciding to shoot it straight. “I’m not trying to judge, Chloe. But just to clarify, when did you find out we weren’t actually dating?”

“After macking, you know I kinda asked him… like, what’s going on here? Everyone who was there saw us. And your entire group was there besides you,” she reminds you. And then she laughs. “And he was so confused.”

You fake a chuckle, your worst fear all but confirmed, feeling white-hot shame creeping up your throat. “I bet.”

“He’s like ‘I’m not with her. I wouldn’t be kissing you if I was with her,’” she imitates, making Rafe seem stoic and serious, which wasn’t very familiar to you. “‘She’s just a buddy.’”

It stings but it isn’t as horrible as you’d thought it’d be—not that Chloe would be keen to offer up anything else of interest. But you’re itching to cut your losses, pretend this conversation never happened, because Rafe is just your friend.

“Well, he’s right,” you say, opening your book again, finding that your place on the page was lost.

“That’s when I knew I wanted more with him. I could tell from the way he talked about you that he was a good guy, and that he’d be really good to me,” Chloe says.

“Yeah, Rafe’s a great guy,” you agree, the loose wicker material on the couch beneath you suddenly of interest. 

“He is,” she agrees again. “It’s weird the way things worked out, but I’m happy. And sorry I thought you two were a thing all this time.”

“It happens,” you shrug, going back to pretending to read. “I think it’s just common when girls and guys are friends. People mistake Kelce and I, too. Even my mom asked me if I had a thing with Topper.” 

You were joking, attempting to steer the conversation away from dangerous territory, but when her eyes light up you know you’re anything but home free.

“That’d be sweet,” she says, and you’re surprised by the earnestness in her voice. “You and Thornton. I’ve seen y’all attached at the hip lately.”

“Oh, no… I don’t think so,” you say, embarrassed. “Top’s just a friend, too. Our parents go way back.”

You return to your book again, still feeling thrown off by the entire conversation, especially Chloe’s admission, your mind in overdrive trying to fill in the missing pieces of that conversation she must have had with Rafe—conversations, plural? How many times had they even talked about you? The thought alone makes you want to book a flight home tonight, and hide from Rafe until you could leave for the airport.

“If not Topper, then who?” 

Your thoughts momentarily clear again, and you look back at Chloe. “What do you mean?”

“Rafe’s mine,” she reminds you, like it’s something you’d ever forget. “Kelce has that waitress at the Island Club.”

“Sidney,” you say.

“Sidney, right,” she nods. “But is there anyone for you?”

“There you are.” 

Rafe appears on the deck just then, suited up in what looks like hiking gear. You never let your eyes linger long, but you especially don’t in the presence of his girlfriend, even if you’re rather interested in the way his sky blue shirt probably accentuates his eyes. 

“You ready, Chlo?”

“Hey, almost,” she answers, standing up.

“Oh, hey, Y/n/n,” Rafe says, like he’s noticing you for the first time. “You wanna come hike with us?”

“No,” you say easily. “I’ve got my book.”

“We’re talking about who we’re gonna set Y/n up with,” Chloe says, and her arms snake around Rafe’s waist. He places a hand on her back, but he looks over at you with mirth in his eyes. 

“Oh yeah? Who?”

Chloe smiles at you. “Well, I suggested Topper.”

You cringe when Rafe laughs. “Yeah, okay.”

“Why not?” Chloe says, pouting at him. You turn away, but you can still hear the smack of their lips.

“She’s too smart for him. She’s too smart for all the guys at our school,” he says.

“And I’m not?” Chloe says, and her tone gives you goosebumps.

You stand abruptly, gathering your book and the towel you’d come out here with. 

“Have fun on your hike,” you say. “I’m gonna go read down on the sand.”

“See you when we get back,” Rafe says. “You’re playing poker tomorrow night, right?”

“Maybe,” you shrug. 

“Oh, c’mon,” Rafe goads. 

“She probably just wants to read her book,” Chloe says. 

You say nothing to that, waving them off as you turn and make your way down the path to the beach to do exactly that. 

—

The truth is, you do end up spending much of that weekend with your nose buried in books, thankful you’d had the foresight to pack extra on top of the one you’d been in the middle of when you left. And the time you don’t spend reading, avoiding rooms that both Chloe and Rafe are in, or sometimes even just one of them at a time, you spend with Topper.

“What are you gonna get?”

“You know, I’m not really that into coffee, Y/n/n,” he tells you regretfully, wincing when you give him a shocked expression.

“What? Why did you let me drag you here?” you ask, your hands fluttering around you, motioning to the coffee shop you’d found yourselves in. The coffee shop, newly opened not even a mile down the road from Kelce’s parent’s house, had been under construction last spring break. You’d driven by it every time you all went in and out of town, bummed you’d just barely miss the grand opening over that summer, but all the more excited to come back and try it next year. Rafe had been excited too, when he promised the two of you could hit it up first thing this year. But things had changed since then, and it was hard not to notice the plastic cup dangling from Chloe’s hand when she and Rafe got back from their hike.

“You didn’t drag me here,” Topper rolls his eyes, motioning for you to move forward in line. “It’s nice out. We’ll probably be stuck inside the rest of the trip when that storm rolls in, and I already feel all cooped up in the house.” 

“Tell me about it,” you sigh, your eyes scouring the menu for anything without coffee or espresso for him. “You could get a matcha?”

Topper grimaces. “Get your coffee. Don’t feel bad. We can hit that ice cream shop down the street after this if you’re not in a rush to get back to the house.”

“Fine with me. Do you know what we’re doing today?”

“Kelce is probably gonna FaceTime Sidney. Margot and Gretch are probably…” he trails off, checking his watch “…at Soul Cycle right now, and are gonna come home and nap until it’s dark. Who knows with Rafe and Chloe. I think we’re on our own until poker.”

“Mm,” you hum noncommittally. “You gonna play?”

“I’m stealing everyone’s fuckin’ money,” Topper claims. “You?”

“I don’t really know how,” you shrug.

“There’s not much to it. Once you learn the rules, you just can’t let anyone know your hand,” he explains. “You’ll have fun. And I’m sure Rafe’ll give you a crash course.”

Your smile dims, and you’re lucky that it’s your turn to order your drink. Topper waits with you, holding the door to the shop open while you take your first sip. 

“Is it everything you ever dreamed?”

“S’okay,” you shrug, swilling the milky drink around, falling into step beside him on the crowded sidewalk. 

You don’t mean to spend the entire day out of the house—honestly. But it’s easy to after you get Topper his ice cream, you take it down to the beach together, talking about your families, college, and Topper’s last surf competition and betting on when Kelce is going to give this Sidney thing an actual try. You tease Topper about Emily but he just pushes you over on the beach towel you’re sharing, and you return the favor when he commends you for your away game at the Boneyard. 

And it gets even easier when Topper convinces you to finally test your newly minted fake ID at some beach club that’s just down the shore, promising to buy the first round (of whatever “frilly rosé” you want) if you’ll just stand up straight and try your luck with the bouncer. 

“Be fucking cool, Y/n/n—act like you’ve done this before,” he laughs, ushering you toward the outdoor bar to deliver on his promise. 

You make sure to return the favor by batting your eyelashes at a group of college boys that feel inclined to buy you a drink. They must not be able to tell you aren’t old enough to have a true drink order yet, or maybe they just don’t care when they start talking about inviting you out to to their boat. That’s when you decide to give Topper the signal, where he’d already been watching you from across the beach anyway. He quickly peels you away, finding two straws for whatever god awful concoction thee boys had ended up ordered you at the bar.

And after Topper picks up the tab for a couple more rounds of frilly rosé—which might have turned into full bottles at some point—because, go figure, he starts to get nervous about one of the bottle girls eyeing you both suspiciously, a sunset swim in the ocean before the storm settles in somehow seems like the best idea you’ve had in your drunken lives. 

The French fries and onion rings you share on your walk home are an even better one though, all the way up until the sky cracks open in the down pour you’d been outrunning all day when you’re hardly a block away from the house.

After the lack of worrying you’ve done all day, you don’t think twice about drunkenly stumbling into the house with your friend. It can’t be any bigger of a deal than whatever flack you’ll get from Margot and Gretchen over it later, but you realize your tipsy giggles and wet feet slipping against the floor is so incredibly loud because the house is silent, the rest of your friends looking at you from the dining table with a variety of looks on their faces.

“Oh. Hey guys. Poker time?” Topper asks, still mowing through the rest of the food you’d picked up, the way the paper bag had gone soggy doing nothing to deter him. 

“Try an hour ago,” Kelce says, eyes flicking between the two of you. “You’re dripping all over my mom’s floor."

“Is it that late?” you wonder, leaning back to peer at Topper’s phone when he takes it out of his pocket, thankful for his hand on your back when you stumble. 

“We tried texting you, Y/n/n,” Margot says, her eyes cutting to Gretchen, who nods, a nervous smile on her face. 

“Sorry,” you say sincerely, but a hiccup gets you toward the end, and you hear Topper chuckle behind you.

“Are you guys… drunk?” Rafe asks, his tone of voice not exactly accusatory, but definitely confused. And the way he’s asking isn’t funny, because if you had a clear head you might think he’s genuinely concerned. The way Chloe’s sitting in a separate chair and still somehow practically in his lap, looking like a dog with a bone not because of that, but because of the way you and Topper are touching, is also nowhere near humorous. 

But Topper’s suddenly got the giggles, and maybe it’s how uncomfortable this entire situation is that makes them so contagious, but you can’t control your own when he finally answers, “why would you think that?” 

“Jesus Christ,” Margot mutters at the two of you, placing her cards on the table to rub at her temples. 

“Are we dealing you in or not?” Kelce says, and you can’t believe your ears when you detect disappointment. 

“Next round?” you try, already heading for the stairs, unsure of who’s eyes you even want to avoid anymore, but deciding it’s probably safest to choose all of them. “I really need to shower.”

“Same,” Topper says, already following you up. 

“Kelce,” Chloe stage whispers. “Don’t interrupt them.” 

Rafe doesn’t stage whisper, because you catch what he says even when you and Topper go your separate ways at the top of the staircase. “He’s not interrupting anything, Chlo.”

—

You don’t know if Topper rallied to join the poker game last night, because the rosé and the sun and the swimming and the running had really caught up to you in the shower, and it was all you could do to brush your teeth before climbing into bed before even drying your hair. 

Getting to bed earlier than everyone, you thought you’d enjoy the downstairs of the house to yourself the next morning, the sound of the rain against the large window panes actually soothing to your impending headache—but you have no such luck.

Rafe is already at the coffee pot, back turned, sans any semblance of a shirt, and you stop so suddenly that your foot catches on the floor loudly, accidentally alerting him to your presence. 

He twists around, assessing your pillow messy hair while rocking his own, awarding you just the tiniest smile. “She lives.” 

“Can you brew a pot?” you say in greeting, already foraging for a mug and the creamer, peeling your eyes away from golden skin.

“I got you,” he says, adding more grounds. Your head aches with every jilted step you take, and you're suddenly reminded why you should always abide by ‘wine before liquor, never been sicker.’

You’re at a loss, surveying the kitchen for some sort of medicine stash when Rafe opens a drawer, tossing you a bottle of Advil.

“Thanks,” you mumble, taking it with you when you slump into a seat at the breakfast bar, pressing your head into the cool tile of the kitchen counter. The only sound in the kitchen after that is the drip of the coffee into the pot, and you suddenly realize this is the first time you’ve been alone with Rafe this entire trip. 

“Here.”

Rafe sets a glass of water in front of you, and then to your absolute horror, leans over the counter in front of you, muscles in his arms straining. You toss back a few tablets and a gulp of water so huge your eyes sting, setting it back down before another wave of nausea hits you.

“Thanks,” you repeat. 

“This place is nuts,” Rafe says. “Can’t even imagine it in the summer.”

“Probably looks a lot like Kildare,” you mumble. “But bougier.”

“True enough. You good?” he asks, not looking appeased when you nod. “What’d you and Top get up to anyway?”

“Coffee at that place. Top wanted ice cream. Went to this beach club,” you mutter, hiding your face in your hands, stomach turning at the thought of alcohol. “He peer pressured me into that one.”

“I’m sure he did.”

“He can be very convincing. I can see why he’s thinking of law school,” you sigh, rubbing at your eyes as you recall the rest of the day. “Then, um—oh yeah, went swimming. Got dinner.” 

“Where?” Rafe asks, and you shrug, wondering when you’ll be able to take this coffee up to your room and crawl back into bed with it.

“It gets patchy after that.” 

“Right,” Rafe sighs, and you hear him shifting around, fidgeting against the counter so aggressively that you can feel it. “He should know better.” 

Your hands fall from your face, your elbows holding you up as you scrutinize him. “What?”

Rafe shrugs, head dipping. “You guys were out alone, not picking up your phones while he’s getting you drunk—probably around a bunch of dickhead frat boys at whatever stupid beach club. There was a storm coming in off the coast, we had no idea where you were and you’re drunk and swimming in the ocean. He know should better. You should, too.”

Your eyes narrow. “I told Gretchen and Margot when I left, and they have my location. Also, I know how to swim.” 

He turns to face you. “I’m just saying—”

“No,” you say, surprising yourself when you don’t let him talk. “Top’s one of my best friends, yours, too. We wanted to get out of the house and got caught up, but we were fine. We were at a bar, not jumping off of the lighthouse or at some random house party.”

Rafe smiles like you’re being ridiculous, a look you aren’t used to receiving unless it’s in jest, and it makes you feel so much smaller than you’ve already felt all week. “Just looking out, Y/n/n. People were worried.”

“People?” you ask incredulously, pushing your palms into the counter to stand-up. “Like who?”

You tear your eyes away from where Rafe has fish-mouthed, sensing someone else’s presence in the kitchen. 

“Hey, you,” Chloe singsongs, strolling into the kitchen in a shirt you recognize.

The pressure behind your eyes is building, the voice in your head screaming at you to get out of here now, coffee already forgotten. 

“Have fun with Topper?” she asks.

“Chloe,” Rafe says pointedly.

“Tons,” you answer, not waiting for either of them to respond before booking it out of there.

—

The storm in Montauk that week was nothing a couple of Outer Banks kids weren’t used to, but the same couldn’t be said for the power lines on the street where Kelce’s parents’ house sat. 

You’re reading, holed up in your room when the power flickers off, all of the appliances that had been humming suddenly silent, making the sound of the rain even clearer. 

“Shit,” you mutter to yourself, realizing you probably can’t hide out anymore.

You turn your phone flashlight on and make your way downstairs, where you’d left everyone after dinner. Things had loosened up in the group as the day wore one, but you hadn’t said a word to Rafe, and the eyes his girlfriend kept giving you and Topper were only making matters worse. 

There’s already a couple of candles lit when you make your way downstairs, shining your phone flashlight on the path in front of you so you don’t trip. 

“Can I help with anything?” you ask Kelce, who’s sitting at the kitchen table on his phone.

“My dad says there’s more flashlights in the closet by the laundry room, could you grab a few?” he asks.

“On it,” you say, putting aside whatever silent battle the two of you had been fighting since you got on the plane to come here.

Kelce’s face looks grateful, illuminated by the candles Gretchen was setting up all over the lower level. “Thanks, Y/n/n.”

It doesn’t take you long to find the closet, right by the laundry room as Kelce had said. You swing the door open to begin investigating, sighing heavily when you see a row of flashlights on the top shelf. “Mother—”

“Fuck.”

The door nearly smacks you in the face, a force pushing it back toward you suddenly where you stand in front of the closet. “What the fuck?”

“Ow,” Rafe groans. “There was a door there.”

“Oh shit, Rafe,” you whisper. “Are you okay?” 

You try to find your phone where you’d left it on one of the shelves so you can shine the light, but he grabs your arm suddenly, trying to get his bearings.

“Shit, sorry—it’s dark as fuck in here,” he says, still sounding like he’s in pain. “Kelce sent me over here to get flashlights.”

“They’re here,” you say. “In the closet.”

“Right. The closet with the door I just introduced myself to.”

“You’re sure you’re okay?” you ask. You couldn’t even tell how close Rafe is to you right now, that’s how dark it is, but his grip on your arm and the way you’re sure you can feel his body heat is enough to have you forgetting all about the conversation you’d had earlier, until he brings it up.

“Are you okay?”

“I didn’t just smack my head on a door,” you laugh lightly, using the arm he’s holding to guide him out of the way, the two of you standing in the laundry room.

“I know—fuck. I’m gonna have a mark,” he says. His touch leaves your arm suddenly, and then you see the flick of a lighter meeting the wick of a small votive candle, which he sets on the washer. 

The two of you are modestly illuminated then, and you see no mark, but you do see the regretful look he’s sporting. 

“I’m sorry. About this morning.” 

“Oh, it was no big deal,” you shrug.

“No, it wasn’t, and I shouldn’t have acted like it was.”

“S’fine,” you say. “I’ve been in a bad mood. Probably shouldn’t have even come out here this week.”

“No, what? Don’t say that—everyone wants you here.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Bad mood or not, Y/n/n—this trip wouldn’t have been the same without you. Top would be lost at sea, most likely.” 

You can’t help but laugh at that, even if Topper is the strongest ocean swimmer out of all of you. Rafe would have him beat in a pool, and he loves to remind everyone of that. 

“I was being… dumb, I don’t know—it’s…” Rafe sighs, his eyes focused on the candle flame flickering between you as he pauses. “Chloe really seems to think you and him have a thing for each other.”

“I told her we don’t,” you groan, ready to try your luck at getting those flashlights on your own, or even returning to Kelce empty handed. 

“I did too,” Rafe assures you. “But last night, I don’t know. I can tell her to cool it, if you want me to.”

You don’t know what possesses you to lean forward, your hand pushing up the hair that had fallen over Rafe’s forehead to investigate the mark forming. You underestimate how close your bodies are in the dim lighting, your midsection brushing against his.

“Am I bleeding?” he asks, his voice hushed.

“No,” you say, retracting your touch, backing into the washer, mindful of not knocking over the candle and sending the house up in flames. “Um, top shelf. Can you reach them?”

“Can I reach them?” Rafe says haughtily, passing them to you as he swipes them off of the top shelf with ease. You hope it’s bright enough in there for him to see you roll your eyes. 

“Come on,” you say, clicking one of the flashlights on.

“Wait, Y/n/n,” he says, his touch soft on your elbow when he tugs you back toward him. 

“What?” you ask, turning to face him again, the way the candle flame lights up his face no less endearing.

“We’re okay, right?” he asks, his tone almost pleading. 

He sounds so earnest, you want to drop the flashlights you’re holding and throw your arms around him, assure him that you’re always okay, always, and that you could never be angry with him for anything. You don’t though, because you almost forgot he has a girlfriend just around a corner somewhere, and you sincerely Rafe Cameron never discovers he can have you just about anyway he wants.

“Yeah,” you say, turning to keep walking back toward the living room. “We’re okay.”

—

Present day

Your parents didn’t open their home to the Outer Banks’ bustling social order often, but your mother really went all out when they did. That might be why you grew up accustomed to peers awkwardly asking you if your mom had mentioned anything about a guest list to you—like she ever would—sent to you to do their parents’ bidding around the holidays. 

Tonight was such an occasion, where you’re expected to have every hair in place, exacerbating the missing suitcase issue. 

Rafe is already splayed across your bed in his shirt and slacks, cuddled into your old throw pillows like he never left, nursing a glass of some sort of dark liquor your dad had dragged him into the study for on his way up here. “There has to be something in here you can wear.” 

“Right now,” you observe, angrily sifting through your closet in just your undergarments. “We’re down to my old school uniform or my prom dress.”

“They’re basically tied in my head,” Rafe calls.

“Neither of them fit.” 

“Even better,” he goads. 

You roll your eyes, wanting to be annoyed but failing to fully get there. You’d been distracted all day, ever since your run-in at the grocery store. Finding something wearable from the remains of your adolescent wardrobe ought to be the best distraction, but it’s nothing compared to the one taking up your bed.

The distraction walks into your closet then, setting his drink on one of the built-in shelves and taking your hips into his hands, tucking himself in firmly behind you. “Come on. There’s gotta be something.”

The door bell goes off again in the distance, and you huff in frustration. “I can’t believe she kept my deb dress.”

“She did?” he asks, reaching around you to hold the tulle in his hands. “She did. Wear this one. I was your date in this one.”

“I was also eight years younger,” you quip, unceremoniously flicking past it. “And I’m not wearing my deb dress to a cocktail party.”

“What gives, Y/l/n?” 

You whirl on Rafe, who sips lackadaisically at his drink, eyebrows raised. “What?”

“You’re being weird. You have a hundred dresses in here,” he says, shrugging. “And you don’t care what anyone downstairs thinks.”

“My mom does,” you remind him, a feeble attempt at an excuse.

“Hey,” he says softly, finger bumping your chin upward. “What is it? Really.” 

“Ugh,” you groan, pushing him aside so you can cross your closet, finding a dress that might be an actual contender. “It’s so fucking stupid, Rafe.”

“What is?” he says, slightly amused as you take it off the hanger. 

“I ran into Chloe at the store,” you say, not checking for his reaction in the full-length mirror as you slip your dress on. It wouldn’t be the most flattering fit, once you zip it up.

“Today?” Rafe asks, and you hear him set his drink down again.

“Yes, today,” you answer, turning to check your figure from the side, then dropping the dress in a huff, stepping out of it and kicking it to the side.

“Okay,” your boyfriend says, seemingly unperturbed. “How did that go?” 

“Nothing, it was nothing. It was fine,” you say, attempting flippancy as you move past him. But he grabs your elbow, pulling you to a stop. He’s a vision in his simple but handsome get-up, and you realize it’s been a while since you’ve seen him all dressed up. Lucky you, you think, scanning him from the ground up. 

“Y/n. It doesn’t sound like nothing, or that it was fine,” he says. “Why didn’t you mention it?”

“It’s not like it’s a big deal,” you say, twisting your fingers around each other. “You guys—well, it was forever ago, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” he says. “Quite a forever ago. A couple. I feel like we’ve lived a couple since then.”

Much like this conversation, there’s a dress hanging in the corner that you’d been tip-toeing around all night. You know it’d be perfect—maybe a little snug but just in all of the right places. You had it stashed here in case something like this were to ever happen. You overthought everything, and it was finally coming in handy. 

You smile up at him briefly before you move past him to take it off the hanger. It slips right over your shoulders and falls exactly how you knew it would. 

“I just got in my head about it,” you say, shifting your hair to one side once you’re standing in front of the mirror once again. Rafe takes the hint, working at the zipper dexterously. “She was always kind of a bitch, wasn’t she?”

“Babe,” Rafe laughs, shocked. You turn to look at him.

“What?”

“Nothing. You’ve just never spoken ill of her before,” he says, pushing your hair behind your shoulders. “It’s kind of refreshing.”

“Why?”

A blush dusts the high points of his cheeks, and he’s swirling his glass again before taking a long pull. “I mean, I nearly laid your ex out at family dinner.”

You bite your bottom lip, recalling that moment in the wine cellar as clearly as if it happened yesterday. You hadn’t seen or heard from Theo since then.

“We don’t have talk about it,” Rafe quickly adds.

You nod gratefully, letting the moment pass without an answer.

“But forgive me if it’s nice to see a little jealousy from you every once in a while,” he says, pressing a kiss to your head.

“Jealousy?” you say, your eyebrows furrowing. “I… that’s not…”

Rafe looks at you expectantly, smile slowly growing as you fail to vocalize what you’d actually been getting at. That seeing her again had stirred up a deep hurt in you, a hurt he was responsible for whether he knew it or not. And that no matter how much you had healed from it—or how deep you’d buried it—all it took was one run-in with her to bring it all back, memories of Kelce’s Hamptons house occupying your mind all afternoon.

“Sweetheart, it’s alright,” Rafe assures you, eyes searching your face. “I know you love it when I’m jealous, but I kinda just want to keep you up here all night.” 

A knock sounds at your bedroom door, muted from where you two stand in the closet still.

“Come on,” comes Dylan’s voice. “Mom told me to drag you out of here, and I’d rather die.”

You huff, turning off your closet light and waiting for Rafe to follow. Your jewelry is already on—you’d kept it simple with your R necklace and a tennis bracelet from your college graduation. Your shoe selection had also been bleak, and you reluctantly slip into some old wedges. It was hardly attire you’d usually wear to one of your mom’s soirées, but it would have to do for both of you.

“You look beautiful.” 

Your shoulders drop slightly, and you don’t fight your smile. “Thanks, baby.”

Rafe waves a hand as if to tell you not to even mention it as he guides you through your bedroom door. Thankfully, Dylan is nowhere to be found.

“And I’m just saying, I’m so not opposed to seeing the Academy skirt later.”

“You perv. It was standard issue.”

“You rolled it up. I know you did.”

“Everyone did,” you tell him, making your way down the stairs with your boyfriend on your heels. 

“I wasn’t looking at everyone.”

“You make me sick,” you jab, elbowing him softly in the ribs even as you feel your cheeks fill with warmth. 

“You make me sick. Lovesick.” 

“Rafe.”

Rafe’s smile drops at the sound of your father’s voice, his hand moving from where it had slipped dangerously low on your back up to the middle, before falling away entirely. “Hi Mr. Y/l/n.”

“Would you help my wife with the trash in the kitchen?” 

You jump in immediately, hand finding Rafe’s arm. “Rafe’s a guest. Can you ask Dylan to do it?”

“I’ve got it, sweetheart,” he murmurs, before leaving your side at the bottom of the stairs. 

“Thanks, son,” your dad says, patting him on the back as he goes. Rafe turns back to you briefly, a prideful look on his face, eyebrows raised in a way that makes your heart speed up faster. 

—

I’m so cold

my mom should’ve put extra blankets out?

She did. Still

suck it up buttercup

Pretty sure Cap misses you too. Whining at the door

noooooo my baby :(

What about me?

Your simple reply is a shrugging emoji, and Rafe smiles as he tosses his phone to the side on the bed. It really is cold in here, but Rafe might have exaggerated it a little. He could definitely throw some sweat pants on, but he’d rather complain until you ask him to come up. That way there’s no guilt on his part if he gets caught. 

But you don’t appear immediately interested in that, so Rafe does opt for pulling a pair of pants on. Which was a big mistake, because his dog immediately stands where he actually had been whining at the door, ever since Captain realized he wouldn’t be going back to the main house with you. 

“I know, bud,” Rafe sighs, leaning down to scratch behind his ear. “I miss her, too.”

Captain whimpers, louder this time, and Rafe realizes he won’t get much sleep tonight if he keeps him out here. It’s late enough, right? Your parents must be asleep after that party, and it’s not like Dylan would rat him out. He takes one last look at his cold bed, then looks back at his dog, who’s still swishing his tail in anticipation. 

“Alright. Let’s go.”

The pair walk through the dewy grass and back to the main house, and the back door that sits just below your room is miraculously unlocked. And it’s easy enough to keep Captain quiet, even though his excitement builds the more he’s able to realize what’s going on, far and away the noisiest thing in an otherwise dark and quiet house. 

“You’re gonna blow our cover dude,” he whispers, closing the back door as softly as possible. He can see through the house to the base of the stairs, they’re almost home free. He can figure out his escape plan in the morning if needed. 

“Rafe, how nice of you to drop in.”

Rafe cringes inwardly, feeling his shoulders drop a couple of inches as he turns toward the study, where your father leans in the doorway. “Hey, Mr. Y/l/n.” 

“A little late though, isn’t it?” Will teases, checking his wrist watch. 

“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry, I just wanted to let Captain up. He’s been whining,” Rafe says, willing the blush to fade on his cheeks, and hopeful the late night light won’t catch it anyway. 

“Right,” your father says, nodding his head with a slight air of condescension, eyes narrowed. “I’ll give you five minutes.”

“That’s perfect,” Rafe lies, deflating further. “I’ll be back in no time.”

“I know,” your dad says, turning to head back into his office. 

Rafe feels himself going out on a limb before his brain can even process if that’s the best idea. But he’s cold, and he feels a little weird about things with you, and if he were a dog he’d probably be whining ten times as loud as Captain was. “Mr. Y/l/n, with all due respect—”

“This better be good.”

“We live together. We have for over a year now,” Rafe points out.

“I know.”

“And I mean,” Rafe ventures, slightly embarrassed but still willing to go the lengths. “It wouldn’t be my first time spending the night in her room.”

“As far as my wife is concerned, it would,” your dad says, raising his eyebrows significantly. 

“Okay, but—”

“Five minutes,” Will says, with finality. 

“Yes, sir,” Rafe says. 

He leads Captain up the stairs—well, Captain leads him, really, right to your door. He knocks softly, hoping you hadn’t fallen asleep in the last ten minutes. 

“Jail break,” you gasp, once Rafe pushes the door open. You smile when Captain runs to greet you, who collects the attention he desired before finding the bed in the corner of the room, curling around Wilbur. 

“Unbelievable,” Rafe says, walking toward the bed. He leans over you, not letting himself get in because he knows he won’t be able to get out. “Hi."

Your giggle settles something that had been anxious in his stomach all evening, sending you looks across the room when you were out of his reach, talking to your dad or any one of your mom’s friends. Your arms lock around his neck for a quick second, and he tucks his face into your neck. 

“Hi. Thought I heard the back door.”

“The warden downstairs gave me five minutes,” Rafe says, unable to keep himself from smiling when you laugh too. 

“How generous of him,” you say, shuffling to the side the make room. But Rafe doesn’t let you, because that’s dangerous territory. 

“No, I can’t. You’re too warm and you smell too good and I’ll never make it back downstairs in time,” he explains, burrowing his face back into your neck. He feels goosebumps form, and he fails at his only goal of not getting lost in you, pressing his lips into a spot that’s been known to drive you wild.

“Rafe,” you warn, your voice already gone slightly breathy. 

He pauses after a minute, planting one last kiss. “Question for you.”

“Mm.”

“What’s the waiting period here?” he says, propping himself up over you again. You blink slowly, and he loves witnessing the daze he put you in start to evaporate. “Like, if I proposed to you right now, would I be allowed to sleep over tonight?”

You narrow your eyes, and the moment is over, Rafe chuckling as you push him off forcefully. “I hate you.”

“No you don’t,” he says. “Not even a little.”

“I hope you freeze to death in the guest house,” you tell him, already rolling over onto your side to face away from him, the little huffs only endearing him more. “Please unplug my lights on your way out.” 

“Don’t even joke about that,” he says, leaning over you again. “That’s a real possibility.” 

“There should be a space heater in one of the closets. Or maybe you can call Chloe. I’m sure she’d love to warm you right up,” you quip. Rafe falters for a moment, until he leans over just enough and sees your wry grin.

“I have to go before your dad calls Shoupe back over to arrest me, but we’ll unpack that tomorrow morning. Bagels?” 

“Nothing to unpack,” you say. “But yes to bagels. Good night.” 

He heads back down, after unplugging your lights as he was asked to do. You flip him off when he says good night at the doorway, but still answer his ‘love you.’ 

Rafe already detests the cold that awaits him back at the guest house, can almost feel it settling into his bones again. Maybe he should’ve toughed it out with Captain in the end, because he could’ve produced some extra body heat and Rafe wouldn’t have had a chance to remind himself what he was missing in the main house.

He makes no attempt to tip-toe past Will’s office, wanting his loud footsteps to echo just so your father knows he kept his promise.

“Rafe, a word?” Will calls. 

Fuck. Rafe checks his watch, wondering if it had been longer than he thought. He pops his head inside. “Sorry. On my way out now.”

“No, I don’t care about that,” he says, waving a hand. He gestures to one of the chairs in front of him. “Have a seat.”

“Yes, sir,” Rafe agrees, dropping into the seat closest to the door. He sits quietly while Will continues working on his computer, a deep furrow in his brow.

“How was the birthday trip? To uh…” Will asks, doing the snapping thing he always does when he’s thinking out loud. “Aspen? No, that’s not right.” 

“Telluride,” Rafe corrects, nodding at Will’s ‘ah.’ “It was amazing. Y/n flew my sisters out and everything. They can’t ski to save their lives, and I’m hardly better, but we all had a great time. Y/n was very patient with them.”

Your dad smiles, and Rafe lets the silence hang there until it’s clear enough that he’s waiting to find out what this is about. 

“I know it’s late. I find it so hard to corner you when you’re over here. She hardly lets you out of her sight,” Will says after a while, leaning back in his chair, hands clasped over his middle. 

Rafe feels his spine straighten immediately, but he tries to disguise at his readjusting his position in the cushioned chair as he fumbles for a response. “Yeah, Y/n… um. You know.” 

“Mm,” Will hums noncommittally. 

“Why would you need to corner me?” 

Your dad smiles; he loves to freak Rafe out and he always succeeds. Rafe wishes he wouldn’t make it so easy for him, but he never wants to be caught out of step. “How’s the new job?” 

Rafe clears his throat before he chokes on his own spit. “Did… Y/n mention something?”

“Well, obviously that’d be between my daughter and me.”

“Right, of course,” Rafe says, feeling his right leg start to jump up and down softly. That was by far your least favorite habit of his, and he wishes you weren’t upstairs right now so you could tell him to cut it out.

“But she said you were thinking about getting out of development,” your dad clarifies. “Are you?”

“More like thinking about thinking about it,” he says, laughing awkwardly. “Um, no, yeah. Things are fine at the new place; it’s a lot of what I’m used to. Just a different market, completely different. So it’s a change of pace, and it’s good.”

“Is it fine or is it good?” Will asks, tilting his head in consideration. Rafe hasn’t had a proper job interview since his college internships, but this is beginning to remind him of that in an eerie way. 

“It’s good, for now,” he says, daring to be honest. Although he almost feels hurt that your dad even knows any of this. Rafe had merely been spitballing—merely—when he’d mentioned this to you in the past. Development was what he was good at it, it was what he knew. It was all he ever knew, but he didn’t love it. Rafe had been suspicious of that to some extent for a while, and he figured it might go away once he moved companies. But even without his dad breathing down his neck, his heart wasn’t in it. Not like yours was when it came to publishing, not like Topper’s when it came to medicine. Kelce pulled 60 hour weeks often, and Graham was entry-level at some newspaper that underpaid him criminally, to the point he walked dogs on the weekend. And you were all happier than Rafe was. 

He knew it was temporary for him, but he hadn’t made any concrete plans of when or how to get out, and where he was going to go from there. And that apparently hadn’t stopped you from divulging all of this to maybe the second person he’d rather you not, after his own father. 

“But not forever,” Will finishes for him. “So what’s next?” 

“I don’t know how much she told you…” Rafe tries. Will doesn’t budge. “But I guess she had some friends over, and she—well, I make furniture, you know? Uh, woodturning was just a hobby I had in college at first.”

“Right, I knew that.”

Rafe nods, because it shouldn’t surprise him but it still kind of does—he doesn’t even know if his own dad knows that, but he can make an educated guess.

“And then I started doing it for Y/n/n. With our porch swing we left at the old house, and then our bed frame, her bookshelf, I made both of us desks, plus a couple of side tables—”

“I get it, Rafe.” 

“Sorry, yeah,” Rafe says, message received. “But anyway, a couple of her friends were over once, and some of them asked about a few pieces.”

“To buy?” Will asks.

“Yeah, to buy,” Rafe says proudly. “And they’re friends of hers, so I’d have done it free after materials. But they all insisted. So I had to work out some pricing scales and all of that pretty quickly.” 

Will nods, and the unease at being thrown into this conversation before he’d even realized he’d have to have it one day—because of course your father is going to wonder about Rafe’s career and finances—is slightly eased by the thought he might be impressing him. 

“Good money?”

“Listen,” Rafe sighs. “I don’t want to give you the wrong idea about anything, because I don’t know the first thing about freelancing or maybe owning a business? It’s not anywhere near that yet.”

“You could figure all of that out, and I could help you,” Will says, clasping his hands together. “But would it be something you want?” 

“I’m realistic, sir. It’s not something I’d consider as anything other than a side gig,” Rafe says carefully.

“Okay,” your dad says, nodding in consideration. He leans over his desk, elbows pressing into the wood. “So that leaves your actual career… where?”  

“Well—you know, uh. I’m fine working where I am,” Rafe says, before being prompted to add more by Will’s expectant stare. “But not forever. I think the goal is to move more into the contracting side one day.”

“Hm,” your father says. “Get out from behind the desk.”

“Exactly,” Rafe breathes, relieved he seems to be understanding him now. “Maybe do things on my own, or with a couple of partners. I used to work with my hands a lot in the summers, travel to sites all the time. I don't know... I miss that.”

“I see.”

Will doesn’t give him much more than that, which leaves Rafe to fill the pause with his nerve-y internal monologue. “Mr. Y/l/n, I hope it doesn’t come as a surprise to you that I intend to be in your daughter’s life forever. And if you’re worried that one day I won’t be able to take care of her—”

“I’m not worried about that,” Will says, waving the thought away. “I won’t pretend to know the financial situation your parents have left you in, nor do I want you to feel like you should tell me. But I know hers, and she’ll never have to depend on a boyfriend for anything. Ever. That was intentional.” 

Rafe nods, because he know Sarah and Wheezie will probably receive the same treatment when that day comes. He never expected it for himself, but especially not now. 

“And to be honest, Rafe, we’re only having this conversation because I believe you when you say that’s your intention. To be in her life,” Will continues. “But you aren’t exactly… on the same playing field as her, are you?” 

“Not to my knowledge,” Rafe says quietly, looking down at his hands, fidgeting with the newly empty spot on his finger. 

“Which is perfectly alright,” your father rushes to say. “Don’t get me wrong. But that’s why I like to know these things. it’s important to me that she isn’t in a situation where she could be taken advantage of.”

Rafe looks up at that. “You have to know I’d never do that to her.” 

“But I want her to be with someone who will hold their own,” Will clarifies. “It’s only fair.”

“All of this would be settled before I made anything official,” Rafe says. Truthfully, he’d never thought this far into it, in his own head or even talking it out with you. But it’s a no-brainer that Rafe would want to feel stable before you officially joined your lives together, and especially before you brought children into it. “She doesn’t need to count on me, but I want her to be able to."

“I’m just being a father, Rafe,” Will reminds him. “If you have a daughter, or any kids one day, I hope you’ll see where I’m coming from.”

“I’m sure I will.”

Will flicks a hand toward the door, which Rafe takes as his cue to leave, the adrenaline draining from his body in a seconds. “Do what you need to do.”

Rafe shakes his hand before he leaves, stopping by to look at the landing that would take him back up the stairs to your room, wondering if he should risk the wrath of your mother so he can ask you what the hell that was about.

—

The grass crunches softly underneath your boots the next morning, and you feel a twinge of sympathy for Rafe, wondering if he hadn’t been exaggerating about the temperature out in the guest house after all. You know it can be drafty out there, but Rafe ran warm. Even still, you dig your hands even further into the pockets of the vest Rafe had loaned you as you make your way to the guest house, dogs left in the main house while the two of you just went into town to grab breakfast for your family. 

Rafe texted you that he’d come to the main house to collect you, but you opted to come out for him early, just because you wanted to and you missed him.

You make it to the door step before the front door sweeps open, Rafe’s shoulders dropping when he sees you. “I thought I was coming to get you.”

“I missed you too much,” you joke. Rafe’s lips twinge interestingly, like he might have smiled any other time but somehow wouldn’t this morning. He already has his sunglasses on so his eyes can’t give you any indication of his mood, but you still feel comforted by the easy way he slips his hand into yours, kissing the side of your head.

“You ready?”

“Let’s go,” you say, trying to muster your own smile. Rafe must not notice, because he looks like he’s a million miles from here with you as he leads you to the car. 

It isn’t like you to bring things up first usually, but with Kelce’s party tonight and Thanksgiving with both of your families tomorrow, you need to be on solid ground with Rafe. And more than that, you want to be. You want to be able to lock eyes with him across any room, nudge his foot under any table or squeeze his hand in any secluded hallway, and know that you’ll make it out alive.

“Did you want to talk about the Chloe thing?” you ask, the silence too much to handle after only five minutes in the car. 

“Chloe?” Rafe murmurs, sounding lost. “What?” 

“You said you wanted to talk about it today, so,” you shrug, grasping for nonchalance and feeling like it’s far from your reach. “We can talk about it.” 

“Oh, right,” he breathes, adjusting his grip on the steering wheel. “Alright, yeah. What did she say again?” 

“I hadn’t told you what she said yet,” you remind him. “And it wasn’t really even about what she said, honestly. Maybe a little, because she seems to think about you a lot still and definitely had something to say about it—but anyway, like I said, it was more about, like—”

“Babe,” he cuts in. “If it’s important, I need you to spit it out.” 

You recoil. “It’s important, Rafe. I wouldn’t bring it up if it wasn’t.”

“Then what was it?” he asks, no remorse in his tone, only frustration. “If she didn’t say anything, did she look at you wrong or something?”

You never expected Rafe to trivialize you or your feelings, no matter how many times you’d done it to yourself in the past few days, and the world outside of the car suddenly seems colder.

“No,” you snap. “It was more about the fact that she tried to hook up with you even when she thought we were dating, and you knew and still went out with her after the fact.” 

Rafe seems caught off-guard. “What are you—do you mean when we were kids? When we were 17?” 

“I was 16,” you add pettily. “And I didn’t say it was rational. I told you yesterday, it’s stupid.” 

“Then why are we talking about it right now?” he asks, exasperated. 

You can’t help but reciprocate his frustration, even if you don’t find his warranted. “Because yesterday, you said—”

“It was years ago, Y/n/n,” he interrupts.

“I’m not an idiot, I know it was,” you say. You’ve had enough at this point, and you’re more than suspicious of his suddenly rude behavior—a world of difference from the guy who snuck up to your room just last night just to tell you he loved you. “Why are you being like this?”

A muscle in Rafe’s jaw ticks, and that’s when you know he’s really upset about something. He pulls into the parking lot outside of the cafe, turning to look at you as soon as the car is in park. “Because I’m a little concerned that we’re spending so much time on bullshit that happened in high school when last night you were apparently telling your dad I’m about to quit my job so I can freeload off of you.”

You pull back, mind reeling at the abrupt topic change. “What? I didn’t tell him that.”

“Really?” he says, and you get the sense he isn’t waiting for an answer. “Then where did he get the idea that he needed to lecture me about not taking advantage of your trust fund?”

Rafe gets out of the car, leaving you speechless and scrambling to follow him. But he comes around before you can even get that far, waiting for you to get out of the passenger’s side with agitation radiating off of him in waves. 

“Rafe, I never—”

He shuts the door. “When I told you I was thinking about doing something different—literally just thinking about it, Y/n—I didn’t think you’d run and tell Will.” 

“We—no, Rafe,” you say, still scrambling to find your footing on the defensive. “No, we were just talking at their party. He asked about you.”

It’s hard for you to remember on the spot, and because until now it was so incredibly insignificant to you. You had a spare moment with your dad in the midst of your mom’s soiree—he asked about Rafe and his new job, so you told him. 

He stuffs his hands into his pockets, his tongue in his cheek. “So you told him I might need you to bankroll my pipe dream. Got it.”

Rafe turns to enter the restaurant, and the stubborn way he holds the door open for you just angers you even more—like he knows he’s being ridiculous. The two of you join the queue, a few inches separating you. “We’re talking about this at home. We’re not gonna be that couple fighting at the bagel shop.”

“Oh, good. Maybe we can ask your dad to join,” he bites sarcastically. “Fuck it, Dylan can come too. Might as well hear what everyone thinks.” 

“Rafe,” you warn, weary of anyone within earshot. It’s early enough that there aren’t many people around, but you can’t believe his behavior.

“We’ll talk at home,” he concedes.

You stand beside him in silence while the line inches forward, wracking your thoughts for anything you could’ve said that would sic your dad on Rafe like that. You were close to your dad and you shared a lot with him, but you’d never share something that would make Rafe uncomfortable; you knew how important that relationship was to him. You’d honestly just been proud to share something so exciting with him, that Rafe had recently turned a hobby into something more. That people saw what he was capable of and wanted to pay him for it—that he was starting to see himself outside of Ward’s web. 

“Y/n,” he calls, and he’s standing at the register, grasping a single take-out cup. “Dylan wanted almond milk, right?” 

You nod affirmatively, and he turns back to the cashier to hand it over. The rest of the order you’d called in is on the counter before him, he’d been checking it over just to make sure all of your family’s orders were correct. 

“I’m sorry about that,” he apologizes, but the employee waves him off, leaving temporarily to fix it. 

Rafe reaches for his wallet, and a thought occurs to you. Before you can think of it you’re reaching into your jacket pocket. “My dad gave me his card.”

Rafe scoffs gently, a disbelieving smile pulling at his lips. “I can pay for it.”

“Rafe, it’s all of my family’s stuff.”

“I wouldn’t have agreed to go get it if I wasn’t fine paying for it,” he insists, teeth nearly gritted. “Drop it.” 

“That’s ridiculous—” 

The cashier giving the total interrupts your bickering, and the precarious glance he casts between the two of you as he puts Dylan’s coffee back into the drink carrier makes you want to crawl out of your skin. You do the next best thing, grabbing the drinks and leaving Rafe to get the food as you stomp outside.

You’ve been pouting for a full 30 seconds before Rafe even joins you, putting the food in the back seat, and you can tell he takes one look at you and decides not to press it, not saying anything at all until you’re back in your parents’ driveway. 

“I know we were gonna spend the day together,” he says quietly. “But I think we should split up after breakfast. Cool off.”

“But your sisters…”

“Will understand,” he finishes. A sad, little smile graces his lips. “And be even more excited to see you tomorrow.”

“What about Kelce’s party?” you say, grasping at anything.

“I’ll come get you,” Rafe sighs, tugging his hat off to run a hand through his hair. “Or I can meet you there, if you wanted. I just need to clear my head, baby.”

You pull out your last defense, out of desperation but also genuine worry for him. “And you’re fine to go to your dad’s alone?”

“Mhm,” he quickly answers, twirling your keys in his grip. “Did it for like 20 years, so…” 

“Yeah,” you agree, swallowing your hurt when you realize he’s really serious—that even facing Ward alone isn’t enough to deter him from leaving you right now. “That’s fine. I should get to baking. Without distractions.”

“Good,” he says, finally stepping out of the car. You use the time it takes Rafe to come around to the passenger’s side to suck in a sharp, deep breath, bottling up tears so instinctual you hardly even realize they were coming before he opens your door for you. 

“Good,” you agree, stepping out to follow him without meeting eyes.

—

“What’s with all the pies?” 

Dylan plops unceremoniously onto the kitchen counter, almost as unceremoniously as he had strolled into the kitchen. You’d made four pies in an attempt to recreate the one Rose had loved last year, but at least you were down from your grand total of nine last year.

“Don’t ask,” you groan, rinsing the last of the dishes in the sink. Dylan sits with his side profile to you. “But take as many as you want. Just don’t touch the one in the garage fridge.”

He points at the one next to him. “What’s wrong with this one?”

“Too sweet.”

“I can live with that,” he decides fishing two forks out of the drawer beside him, passing one off to you.

“What’s up?” you ask, the two of you picking at the rejected pie.

“Nothing’s up. Why does something have to be up?”

“You don’t usually go out of your way to occupy the same space as me unless Rafe’s here. Or if I fucked up,” you add.

“Well did you? Fuck up?”

You shake your head silently, shrugging with innocence when your younger brother gives you a look. “Promise.”

He narrows his eyes, but shakes his head, too. “Your luggage came. I didn’t haul it upstairs. Rafe can get it.”

“Mm,” you murmur, distracted. “Sounds good. That it?”

He sighs roughly, a loud rush of air, tossing his fork into the pie tine. “I told Mom and Dad. About Everett.” 

Your ears immediately perk up at the mention of Dylan’s new boyfriend, but you try to contain your emotions as not to spook him. “You did?”

“Yeah,” he breathes, smiling so unabashed it makes your heart melt, your own woes temporarily forgotten. 

“And?” you push gently.

“You were right,” Dylan admits, rolling his eyes. “They were all over me about when they can meet him and what he’s like and what his parents do and… yeah, all of it.”

“Dyl,” you say. “I told you.”

“I know,” he sighs, scratching at Wilbur’s ear. “I know.”

“Does this mean he’s gonna come here? And we can double date?”

“You’re joking, right? He’s never coming here,” Dylan laughs at you, like it’s a dumb idea.

“Why not?” you pout. 

“They’re gonna run him off,” he says. “With bloodlines and prenups and just bullshit.” 

You roll your eyes, even though he’s correct. “You’ve been dating for, what, three months?” 

“It’ll be four in a few days,” Dylan admits quietly, only letting you hug him for a record three seconds before he’s pushing you away. 

“Look at you. They can be a lot, though,” you admit. “I probably would’ve waited until my wedding day if Rafe wasn’t from here.”

“Where’s the Rafester anyway?” Dylan says, suddenly peeking around the kitchen, like Rafe’s going to pop out of the pantry suddenly. 

 “Thankfully not around to hear you call him that,” you quip. “He fled.”

“Smart guy,” Dylan laughs, then looks at you in consideration. “You guys okay?”

“We’ll be alright,” you sigh, shrugging. 

“Ev’s gonna have his work cut out for him. They already love Rafe so much,” your younger brother sighs, cringing lightly. 

“Yeah, they do,” you say softly. “But they’ll love Everett, too. As long as he treats you right. And doesn’t have any tattoos.”

Dylan winces and your eyes widen. “They’re not visible. Easily. They’re not… easily visible.”

“Oh my god,” you cry, closing your hands over your ears. “Not my baby brother.”

“Oh, grow up,” Dylan says. 

Your chuckle is cut off when a couple of texts comes through on your phone, two curt messages that make your heart speed up slightly. “Fuck.”

“What is it?” your brother asks. 

“Nothing—um, nothing bad,” you amend, mind racing—any thoughts of Chloe or your dad or Dylan’s boyfriend suddenly forgotten. “I just have to get ready. Will you pretty please go get my bag?”

Dylan groans, heaving himself off of the counter anyway. “Fine.”

—

It was foolish of Rafe to think Tannyhill would offer him any kind of solace. 

It was great to see his sisters, to hear about school and their friends and Sarah’s new internship and Wheezie’s college choices for the half hour alone he had with them before Ward came home, even if it had been permeated by their disappointment and worry at your absence. Which was of no bother to Ward, who seemed more cheery than normal to have Rafe alone, to get under his skin and ask about California without you around to take over, jump in, or just hold his hand under the goddamn table so he know’s he’ll be alright when all is said and done. 

So it’s no wonder he ends up at the Lodge eventually. Topper wasn’t leaving Blythe’s side and Kelce was off to pick up his girl, and Rafe felt a little too raw to invite anyone else along. 

So he’s alone at his hometown bar on the afternoon before Thanksgiving, because in the last 24 hours he’d transformed back into the scared little boy he always felt like he was on this island, running from everything and everyone. Running from you.

And it’s foolish of Rafe to think he ever could.

Because he’s on his third round from his favorite bartender—the one who’s been serving him since he was seventeen, who took look one look at Rafe as he’d pushed open the door at this dive and poured him his calling card—when the door swings open, spilling sunlight and a breath of fresh air into the otherwise dark space.

Your suitcase clearly made it to you at some point today, if the houndstooth mini skirt is anything to go by. It’s hidden by the long coat you’re wearing, but Rafe can tell the black turtleneck you’re wearing looks just as good on you as the sheer black tights and knee-high boots you’re wearing do. The literal definition of a tall drink of water stands before him, and every sorry soul hiding out in this shithole when they ought to be home with their wives can look, but they can’t touch. 

“You found me,” Rafe starts, shifting a toothpick around in his mouth. 

“Sarah said you didn’t last an hour at Tannyhill,” you respond flippantly.

“I guess I’m more surprised you came inside,” he scoffs, shaking his head. Charlie makes his way down the bar at this point, glancing at Rafe before focusing his attention on you.

“Can I get you anything?” 

You shuck your coat and Rafe bristles—he’d been right about the top—throwing a significant arm over the back of your chair as soon as you seat yourself at the bar next to him. 

You lean forward on your elbows, surveying the contents behind the bar before glancing at Rafe’s tumbler unsurely. “Whatever he’s having.”

Charlie raises his eyebrow and Rafe lets out a chuckle, shaking his head. “No. Vodka soda, Smirnoff or better. Anything else, don’t bother. And two limes.” 

Charlie nods before he walks off to grab a bucket, and you slouch in your chair, no fight put up. “Probably shouldn’t have anything, honestly. We need to jet.” 

“Why’s that?”

You roll your eyes. “Did you check your phone once today?” 

He furrows his eyebrows, because he hadn’t. It’d been on do not disturb, but your notifications wouldn’t have been affected by that. “No, why?” 

“It’s Kelce.”

“We’re still going to that?” he asks in wonder, because he really wasn’t sure anymore. It’d be smaller than it was in year’s past, your absence definitely more noticeable. But neither of you were one for putting on appearances, and it wasn’t exactly the easiest crowd to conceal things from anyway. He checks his watch, noting the early hour. “He’s not even having people over for a few hours.”

“He called it off,” you say, finally looking at him. 

“What?” Rafe asks. Charlie comes back with your drink, and you thank him with a a sweet smile, only taking a small sip before you swirl the straw around and try to cover up a nose scrunch once his back is turned. Rafe feels something loosen in his chest, observing you sitting here in a bar you have no problem telling anyone who asks that you detest. All for him.

“Therese isn’t coming.”

Rafe leans toward you, retraining his focus on the task at hand. “To his party?”

“To the Outer Banks at all,” you say, your eyes full of emotions, ever the empath. “She cancelled her flight this morning.”

“Oh fuck,” Rafe breathes, sliding a hand over his face once it clicks. “Fuck.” 

“Yeah,” you agree quietly, taking another sip, probably just to be polite. “He’s screening my calls, but I doubt he’s taking it well. Topper and Blythe are already over there.”

“We need to get out of here,” he decides, already looking for his wallet. He throws way too many bills down between both of your unfinished drinks, checking his phone for missed texts from Kelce. From Topper too, plus a few calls. None from you. “Who’s car?”

“Dylan dropped me off,” you tell him, slipping your arms into your coat when he holds it out for you. “So mine, since you took it this morning.”

Rafe winces. “Your car’s still at my dad’s. I drove my truck here.” 

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

“Didn’t really plan for this scenario,” he says sheepishly.

“So, what? You were gonna drink all day and then drive yourself back to Tannyhill? And then come back over and let me get in the car with you?” you huff, turning to exit with an eye roll. Rafe races to catch up, barely catching the door when you fling it open. You stand with your arms crossed, stilling on the sidewalk, and Rafe realizes you don’t know where he parked.

Your questioning is logical, and leads Rafe to realize this is probably the only way this day would’ve ended, with you somehow making everything alright. But that’s what he’s supposed to do.

“Baby, I’m sorry,” Rafe begins, not even sure what he’s apologizing for yet. “I wasn’t thinking.”

“God, Rafe, it’s fine—I know you wouldn’t—ugh,” you sigh, aggravated. But then you reach out and take his hand. “I know we have shit going on right now, but I want to put it aside for tonight. For Kelce’s sake.”

Rafe swallows, nodding, suddenly very sober. He strokes a thumb along yours, reveling in your touch when you don’t reject him. Rafe squeezes back. “Yeah, of course.”

—

It’s a scene all too familiar to him—Kelce’s backyard, where he's sharing a short, glass-top table with Topper, the two of them lounging in a pair of matching Adirondack chairs. A few years ago, Rafe might be rolling up a joint in his lap, trying and succeeding at peer pressuring Topper into partaking with him. But things have changed, and all that sits between them is two tumblers of dark liquor, more expensive than they’d have ever spent their own money on back in the day. But both of their dads’ liquor cabinets were always fair game in both of their eyes.

And instead of perusing the backyard—discussing anyone who caught their eyes—Topper has a lapful of longterm girlfriend, while Rafe’s is just inside. 

Kelce had been in a state once you two arrived tonight—weird, quiet, shutdown. Far from his usual, especially tonight, his self-proclaimed favorite day of the year. You’d taken one look and pulled him into his parents’ living room to talk it out. That was your forte, so Rafe had quietly slipped out to the yard to find solace. Besides, he wasn’t feeling too inclined to dole out relationship advice right now.

“He wouldn’t want us to feel bad for him,” Topper says, and Rafe nods along in agreement. “But I can’t help it. This shit sucks.”

“Yeah,” Rafe sighs, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees.

“She didn’t have to wait until the last second,” Blythe says, and Rafe looks over to see her shrug. “Well, it’s true. If she decided not to come today, she’d probably been hesitant for a while. She didn’t have to let him get his hopes up.”

Rafe can’t argue with that, and he wonders if this could be the end for Kelce and this girl. Because he might have a hard time moving past this one, should he ever get the chance to meet her. He knows you will.

“People get weird around the holidays,” Topper explains. “Families and whatever. It’s hard.” 

“How can I forget your first time meeting my parents?” she teases. Topper’s cheeks blush red, and Rafe would push for more details if he had the emotional energy to feel invested enough. 

“Babe,” Topper groans. 

“Rafe, you should’ve seen him on the plane, he was—”

“Babe,” Topper insists, but with a chuckle, and his arms tightening around her, not an ounce of an edge to his tone. Rafe averts his eyes and grabs his drink, swilling it around half-heartedly before taking another longish pull. 

“And what about you?” 

He looks over when he realizes the question had been meant for him. “Me?”

“Yeah,” Blythe smiles timidly. “How is it being back home?”

Rafe doesn’t cut his eyes to his friend, but he’s sure Topper is panicking. Blythe had always been a little bolder than him, and in a balancing way. “S’fine. I’m staying with Y/n/n’s parents, but I saw my sisters today.” 

“That’s fun,” she says, and her eyes find Topper’s. “How’s Y/n?”

Rafe smiles, sensing where this is going. “She’s just inside, if you’d like to ask her yourself.”

“Well, we just…” she trails off, looking to Topper. He looks to Rafe, his lips tucked into his teeth. 

Rafe sighs, feeling his shoulder drop a few inches. 

“I can leave,” Blythe offers. Rafe waves her off quickly as he downs the rest of his drink, knowing anything shared with Topper is as good as said right in front of her anyway. 

“Let it out, bud,” Topper implores, and Rafe sinks further into his chair. 

“Oh, fuck off. Her dad riled me up,” Rafe says, condensing his story as best he can. “About work stuff. Money stuff.”

“Yeesh,” Blythe cringes.

“You’d think I’m trying to put a ring on her finger, tomorrow, dude,” Rafe rants. 

“Aren’t you?” Topper laughs, taking a sip of his own drink. 

Rafe feels his eyes roll at that. “Not tomorrow.”

“Oh, sorry, next week,” he amends. 

“Dude,” Rafe laughs, feeling himself start to relax slightly, wondering if his problems might not be as big as he’d made them out to be in his head. After all, Topper’s jabs were based in truth, and maybe Rafe needed to act like he was asking you to marry him tomorrow. There probably would be a ring on your finger right now, if you asked Rafe when you first started going out. But that was before quitting Cameron Development, before California, before you helped Rafe realize he had a lot of work to do on himself if he ever wanted to be half the man you or any of your future kids deserved. You were his real deal, and maybe your dad had finally called him out for not acting like it. He already knew that’s how your mom felt.

“Y/n says her dad loves you,” Blythe says, confused. 

“He does,” Topper says. “So really? That’s what all of that tension in there was?” 

Rafe flushes at the implication that everyone could pick up on the jilted greetings you both gave upon arrival, becoming briefly concerned of any flack he might get from Kelce later, especially given the heart-to-heart taking place inside right now. He cranes his neck, trying to spot you through a kitchen window without any luck. “Most of it. And also, super random, she ran into Chloe, I guess?”

“Chloe Merrick? From high school?”

“Mm,” Rafe murmurs, distracted and already thinking about how he can smooth things over with you later tonight. The skirt will make things difficult if he lets it, so he needs to be on point.

“Well, bud—why didn’t you lead with that?” Topper laughs. 

“With what?” Rafe asks.

“With Chloe.”

“Wait, who’s Chloe?” Blythe says, her words coming out whiny.

“Rafe’s ex,” Topper supplies. “Which literally explains everything.”

Rafe furrows his eyebrows, feeling not drunk but definitely tipsy enough to render him unable to understand Topper’s reasoning. “How’s that?”

“Dude, she hates Chloe.”

“Y/n doesn’t hate anyone,” Rafe says easily, pointing at Blythe when she nods, as if to tell Topper ‘see?’

Topper scoffs. “Sometimes I forget how fucking dumb you are when it comes to Y/n/n.”

“Baby,” Blythe chides, but Rafe feels himself a disbelieving smile pulling at his own lips.

“You think I don’t know my girlfriend?” Rafe asks.

“Not all the time. Not back then,” Topper amends. “Junior year? The Hamptons?”

“Oh, don’t even fucking—”

“The Hamptons?” Blythe muses, scandalized. “What happened in the Hamptons?”

“You really wanna talk about the Hamptons?” Rafe says, taking delight in the way Topper’s cheeks burn red, like he wishes he could put the words back in his mouth.

“No, we don’t have to.”

“You brought it up, bud,” Rafe reminds him, pushing himself into a standing position. He starts winding his arms around, throwing in a stretch for the effect. “And I’ve always meant to beat the shit out of you for taking my girlfriend to dinner.” 

Topper sputters momentarily. “We did not—it was not—”

“Dinner!” Blythe gasps, before smiling wickedly. “You took Y/n/n to dinner? Did you kiss her? Did you date? Did you—”

Rafe slips away silently, taking the cue he perfectly set up for himself, but not before receiving what he hopes is a good-natured glare from his best friend. The mouthed ‘I hate you’ from over the top of Blythe’s head really seals the deal.

But Topper’s implications sit funnily in his stomach, and he doesn’t like the feeling at all. He heads back inside, hoping to a higher power you’re done talking with Kelce so he doesn’t have to rip you away, because he can’t stand another minute with so much unresolved. 

—

“I really thought… Y/n/n, I don’t know what I thought,” Kelce says dejectedly, his fingers interlaced, head bowed between his knees. “But I didn’t think this.”

You watch sadly as he swipes his beer off of the table, not even interested in drinking anymore, just needing something to hold. “I’m so sorry, Kelso.”

“I don’t know why this always happens to me. Like I finally find someone I like and who understands me and loves me—I thought. But she just runs.”

It’s difficult to give someone you don’t know the benefit of the doubt when they’ve put your friend—someone who you’ve already seen go through so much heartache, who’s seen you through your own—through something like this, but you try for his benefit anyway. “Maybe when you get back to Austin she’ll be able to explain, Kelce. Right? Didn’t she say she wanted to talk?”

“Does that sound like a good talk to you?” he deadpans. “‘I’m not coming to meet your family and friends, and I think we should talk when you get home?’”

“Kelce…” you say morosely, leaning into his side. “I don’t know what to say.”

“I just wish—I wish she’d told me, or that she’d come anyway. We could’ve talked, just us. Would’ve cancelled the whole fucking party and locked you all out if it was too much for her, seriously,” he says. “We could’ve worked it out.” 

You hear Rafe’s soft laughter filter in through the open screen door, and something tugs in your stomach. “Even when you really love someone, Kelce, sometimes it’s just easier to run.” 

He looks at you, unamused.

“I’m serious,” you say, lowering your voice. “Look at Rafe and I.”

Kelce scoffs. “Okay.”

“I mean it,” you answer, becoming impassioned. “It took us forever, and sometimes… sometimes we still fuck it up.”

“Yeah, but,” he says, actually sipping at his beer this time. “You always work it out.”

“Not always,” you murmur. 

He seems surprised. “What? You talking about Rafe’s little storm cloud?”

“His what?”

“He gets like this every time he comes home, Y/n/n. Come on,” Kelce says, like you should know what he means.

“I don’t follow,” you say, leaning back into the couch, crossing your arms over your chest.

“You know what? Of course you don’t. Because you’ve never been subjected to it,” Kelce laughs. “He’s like an angsty teenager again as soon as he steps foot on this island, especially before y’all got together.”

You think back to what Rafe had said in the car this morning, how he’d casted you off and walked right into Ward’s house without you. “Think it’s more than that this time around.”

“How so?”

There’s a knock at the entryway into the living room, and then your sheepish boyfriend stepping into the frame, leaning up against it while you both gaze upon him. “Hope I’m not interrupting.”

“Never,” Kelce says, moving to stand. “I was wondering when you’d come get her. Actually starting to worry.”

You roll your eyes but you stand to, looking for your bag and your keys because you could tell Rafe was ready to head out from one look at his face. 

“Kelce, man,” you hear him say. “You good? We’ll stay.” 

“I’ll be alright,” Kelce sighs. “And I’ve got my hands full with Top, Blythe. Girls should be here soon, too. Wouldn’t be the first time you two left my party early.” 

“Kelce,” you chastise.

“I’ll probably invite whoever didn’t make the original guest list,” he continues, returning from the kitchen with a fresh beer. “Full house. Gonna invite Sarah and John B and his friend who has a thing for Y/n. Griffin might even sniff it out. Chloe, too, since I heard she’s int own.”

“Alright,” Rafe cuts in. “We get it, Jesus.” 

“You’re sure?” you say. 

“Oh my god,” Kelce sighs, leaning into press a kiss to the top of your head. “Go. Both of you.” 

You walk away to wait awkwardly in the entryway as they say their own goodbyes, wondering a second too late if you should’ve strained your ears harder to hear once it takes a little longer than a normal parting for the two of them. 

Just as Rafe emerges into the entryway, Gretchen and Margot both pop through the front door, giggling and holding an impressive number of pink bottles in between them. They both startle when they see you, their faces transforming from glee to the opposite once they look at you for a little longer.

“Why are you wearing your coat? Take off your coat,” Gretchen demands, stomping her foot. 

“We’re heading out,” you say sadly. “Kelce is in the living room.”

“Nooo,” they chorus, leaning into fuss over you. 

Margot notices Rafe standing behind you then, narrowing her eyes. “Cameron.”

“Not tonight, Margot. And take it easy on Kelce, yeah?” he warns.

She looks called out, and you can practically hear the argument forming in her head. “Buddy—”

“For the love of god please take her,” you whisper to Gretchen. 

“We better see you guys tomorrow night. After dessert, at mine?” she pleads, smiling when you nod. “Good. Oh—let me get a picture.”

“Gretch—”

“Rafe, get over here,” she demands, interrupting whatever quiet squabble Margot has taken up with Rafe, who looks more than relieved to take your side. 

Gretchen picks up the film camera you hadn’t noticed hanging around her neck, backing up a few steps and pointing it at you both. “Pretend like you like each other, at least.”

Rafe’s arm settles around your shoulders, pulling you back into his frame, and you try your best to put a believable smile on, recalling Kelce’s words.

The flash goes off and Rafe presses a kiss into the back of your head before moving away from you, his hand falling to your back. 

“That’ll work,” Gretchen says, turning to follow Margot where she stomped off, no doubt in a beeline to a grieving Kelce. “Love you guys.”

“Let’s go home?” Rafe finally asks, his voice quiet even though nobody is around to overhear him.

“Home,” you confirm, grabbing onto his hand and leading him out the door. 

—

Rafe’s done a few dumb things in the last day or so, but this might be the dumbest.

The trellis below your window hadn’t changed at all, but Rafe’s ability to navigate it might. He hasn’t gone up this way in years, and it’s not as romantic as he remembers it being. Maybe it’s because now he’s groveling instead of trying to woo you, or maybe it’s because you’re not aware of his sojourn, not sticking your head out the window and looking down at him sweetly, hair flitting around you and ready to tug him over at the last step. Not tonight though, not after Rafe had sent you off to your room with nothing but a kiss to your forehead and loose promise to talk tomorrow before Thanksgiving dinner at Tannyhill.

And maybe Rafe’s just not as young as he used to be. Which is why he’s surprised to find the window open at all, allowing him to tug himself over and in, miscalculating the footing and landing on his ass, the box in his pocket stuffed under his hip awkwardly as he makes contact with the floor. “Ow.”

“Oh, thank god.”

“Babe—ow,” Rafe winces, realizing he’s probably gonna bruise as he gets to his feet. “I—you said—thought we were gonna talk in the morning.”

“Yeah,” you say weakly, from where you stand in the doorway of your bathroom, your hands twisting together. “I did.”

“But you left your window open for me?”

“Yeah,” you shrug, wrapping your arms around your midsection.

“Because you—baby, baby, don’t cry, no,” he says in surprise, heart breaking as he crosses the room to you and your wobbling bottom lip and big, sad eyes. “Hey, come here, pretty.”

“Rafe,” you cry, muffled in his shirt when he takes you into his arms. “I’m so tired of this shit. I don’t—I don’t wanna be mad at you anymore.”

“I don’t want you to be mad at me either,” he says, leading you to the chair that sits at your vanity table, helping you sit while he crouches down in front of you. “I don’t like it.”

“You usually don’t know,” you laugh, hiccuping slightly. 

“Can’t argue with that,” Rafe says, using the cuff of his long sleeve to pat under your eyes softly, stroking your thigh with his other hand while you calm down. “Baby girl, you’re breakin’ my heart.”

“It’s so stupid—with Chloe, and just—I’ll talk to my dad, I promise I will,” you ramble. “Because he can’t just—he can’t. Why the fuck did we even come home?”

“Hold on, hold on. Breathe for a sec,” Rafe reminds you, pleased when you follow his lead, taking in a long, shaky breath. “Good. There you go, sweetheart.”

“I’m sorry,” you say meekly, still fielding stray tears but on the whole looking better.

“You’re good, you’re good. Do you want water?”

When you shake your head, Rafe feels good to stand, leaning up against your table, still within arms length as he strokes your back through your sleep shirt of his. 

“What’s going on with Chloe?” he finally asks after a beat of silence. 

You huff, but start talking when Rafe bumps your chin with his knuckle in encouragement. “I never liked her.”

“I see that now.”

“I’m glad I did such a good job of hiding it when I was younger,” you laugh dejectedly. “Thought I was so obvious.”

“Apparently I’m the only one who didn’t catch on. Even with Topper dangling you in front of me like a carrot at the Hamptons house,” Rafe says, rolling his eyes.

“He did not,” you defend.

“Oh, he did so, baby girl,” he counters, scoffing. “Are you kidding?”

“Rafe. You had a girlfriend on that trip,” you point out. “And Topper didn’t even know…” 

“He knew.” 

You shake your head. “No, no that can’t be right. Topper? Topper Thornton? He’s like the least likely to meddle out of all of them.”

Rafe gives you a look. “That isn’t saying much when it comes to our friends.” 

You nod in consideration, your eyebrows still furrowed as you prop your head up on one of your hands.

“But, baby…” Rafe says, stroking a hand over the top of your head, his fingers digging into the hair at the nape of your neck. “You can’t still be worried about it. Not after all this time?”

“It isn’t like that anymore, Rafe. I mean, you’re a catch and I’m never gonna take that for granted,” you pause to crack a small smile when Rafe won’t let that one go so easy, tugging at the end of your ponytail, “but I’d like to think you’d never hurt me or leave me.”

“Never ever.”

“She was making comments about our lives and whatever, like she still knows you. Like she knows you better than I do,” you explain, picking at your nails. “And it pissed me off.”

“Okay,” Rafe nods, unsure if he wants to ask what she said specifically, and ultimately deciding against it. “But that wasn’t all?” 

“What do you mean?”

Rafes eyes scan your face. “These aren’t angry tears. And I know you can handle stupid island gossip.”

You groan, hiding your face in your hands again. “It’s so dumb.”

“It’s not,” Rafe insists, batting them away. “Not dumber than anything I’ve been mad about today.”

“Rafe.”

“What were you talking about in the car this morning? Seriously, baby. Let me in,” he says.

“Are you making me?”

“Yep.”

You sigh one last time, sitting back in your chair with your arms crossed. “We weren’t dating. But you were still like one of my best friends, right?”

 “Correct.”

“So it just… I don’t know. It sucked that you dated her, because she was perfectly fine going behind my back before she knew we were nothing.”

“We weren’t nothing, baby.”

Frustrated, you push at his knee. “Don’t be cute, you know what I mean.”

“I’m serious. I think a lot of people thought we were something, Y/n/n. In hindsight, I was pretty obvious at least,” Rafe says sheepishly. 

“I know, I know,” you groan. “Which is so embarrassing by the way. That that many people knew.”

“It is, but it worked out. Just a little bit,” Rafe reminds you. You bump your knee into his leg in acknowledgement. “So what gives?”

“I don’t judge you for it anymore. I got it over it so long ago,” you recall. “In probably the worst possible way.”

Rafe hums in disapproval. “So we’re even?”

“There’s no getting even, Rafe. I don’t hold anything against you from when we were like, infants.” 

“Clearly you do.”

“I don’t. I was young and emotional and just really, really confused about you,” you promise. “I don’t hold it against you, but I haven’t seen her in forever and she just got under my skin about it.” 

The image of a younger you, in anyway hurt by Rafe when he was arrogant and young and stupid and above all else still totally in love with you somewhere deep in his heart before he even knew what love was is always too much for him to bare. Even when he keeps a home with you, shares a dog with you, shares a life and all of his future plans and hopes and aspirations—and shares his heart with you. Even after all of that, it hurts. “I was such a stupid kid.”

“You weren’t,” you tell him, your hand taking a place on his knee again, maroon-painted nails digging into the skin under his shorts. “This is why I didn’t want to talk about it, because it’s just stupid teenage insecurities that I still let get the best of me sometimes. She started talking about how I’m your cookie cutter Figure 8 dream, and your dad, and then when you flipped about my dad—”

Rafe finally digs deep into his pocket, at a loss for his own words but one-thousand-percent sure he can’t sit here and listen to you doubt him or yourself anymore, setting the velvet box down on your vanity with authority.

Your words die in your throat, and you take one glance at the box before closing your eyes. “I know you’re not doing this while we’re talking about Chloe Merrick.” 

“I’m not doing that,” he says, hoping you don’t actually ever think he’d propose marriage while standing taller than you, while standing at all. “Jesus, baby.”

“Then what—” you reach your hand out, then retract it, doe eyes staring up at him timidly. “Can I?”

“Open it.”

You gently pry it open, setting it back on the desk once you can see inside, recognition crossing your features. “You found your ring?”

“I found your ring,” he says as he plucks the gold band out of the box, grabbing your hand. “Actually never lost it.” 

“What are you… wait, why does it fit me?” you wonder, once Rafe can stronghold your fidgeting enough to get it down your ring finger. On the right hand, he’s not psychotic. “Rafe, why does it fit me?” 

“You know Wren’s friend Stephen?” 

“Yeah,” you answer, flexing your hand, marveling at the ring’s new size. 

“Well, he’s a blacksmith, right? And your birthday was coming up…” he shrugs, bashful now, after all of his brevity. “We melted it down. I thought I knew your size, but I swiped that little silver twisty one you always wear when you were sleeping—just to be sure.”  

“Rafe.”

“And then it really wasn’t that hard—but it was so cool, baby, he like let me hold it and everything while he worked the metal, and I have pictures, if you want—”

“You melted your gold band.”

“Yes.”

“So I could wear it.” 

“Correct.” 

“The one you’ve been wearing since we were teenagers.”

“The very one.”

You twist the ring around on your finger, sliding it right up to your knuckle and seeing how it doesn’t give easily, how it was made to fit your finger. You work it off anyway, sliding it to the ring finger on your other hand. Your left hand. “Rafe.”

“You like it?”

“You know you can’t take this back, right? Like you can’t just—”

“I know, sweet girl, kinda the point—there’s even a seam if you really look. But it’s yours now.” 

Rafe can forgive himself for the way your eyes well up, because he surmises that this time they’re happy tears—even though he’ll always hate making you cry. “I swear I was gonna save it for your birthday. Or Valentine’s.”

You sniffle. “I love it. I’m glad you didn’t save it. You’ve just been carrying it around?”

He shrugs. “Wanted it close. I felt so bad when you were as upset as you were it was missing.”

“I should’ve known you didn’t lose it in the ocean,” you grumble.

“And now you won’t either,” he quips. “I love you. Don’t worry about the bullshit. Seriously, baby.”

You stand up then, and you two fit perfectly when your arms wrap around his waist, and his fall around your shoulders. “What about my dad?”

Rafe sighs, stroking a hand up and down your back, fingers catching on your tank top. “Let’s head to bed.”

You narrow your eyes, pulling out of his hold. 

“Okay,” you agree, reaching for a tub of lotion on your bedside table, before leaning in for a quick kiss. “I’ll see you in the morning.” 

“I scaled the wall,” Rafe explains, watching you rub lotion into your arms lackadaisically, barely paying him mind anymore. “And it's one a.m.” 

“Hm, better be careful on your way back down,” you say, moving onto your legs, tantalizing him. “You always said that one rung at the bottom is getting faulty.”

Worse and worse every time he uses it, and he won’t make it any worse tonight. “You don’t want me to stay?”

“This bed is for people who express their feelings,” you say, burrowing yourself under the covers. Rafe sighs, finally kicking off his shoes, moving them to the corner so you won’t claim a tripping hazard. 

“Shove over,” he grunts, slipping in behind you once he unplugs your lights and makes sure your window is shut.

When you remain stubborn, Rafe uses an arm around your waist to move you over himself, grinning when you squeal in delight. “Rafe.”

“I told you to shove over. You’re gonna wake up your brother,” he chastises.

“He’s probably up late. Talking to Ev,” you say, sounding swoony. “I think he’s two hours behind, maybe three? Young love.” 

Rafe presses a kiss into the back of your head, using his free hand to trace the shell of your ear, tucking a few wayward strands behind it. “We used to be like that.”

“You were so cute, pretending you weren’t falling asleep on FaceTime,” you say wistfully. “Miss that.”

“I don’t,” Rafe says. 

“No? The window entrance was a little nostalgic tonight.”

“You really didn’t think I was coming?” 

Your shrug moves your body against his, and Rafe laces his free hand through yours. “I mean, I put the dogs with Dylan so they wouldn’t bark, but I dunno. This is one of those things that just makes you shut down.” 

He hides his head between your shoulder blades. “I don’t mean to.”

“I know,” you say, struggling to turn around in his grip, getting a hand under his chin once you do. “But I hate when you push me away.” 

“I don’t mean to,” he repeats.

“I know.” 

“I think your dad was right.”

The understanding immediately leaves your face, and you pause your petting. “What?” 

He kisses your forehead slowly, buying himself time before looking back down at you. “He was. Kinda. I need to get my shit together.”

“Rafe, no…” you shake your head. “No. You don’t have to listen to him.”

To Rafe, it’s as simple as the fact that he does have to. But you wouldn’t stand to hear any of that. “It’s okay.” 

“No, it’s not. You had your entire life mapped out until a few months ago,” you say. “You don’t need to have everything figured out right now.”

“Sooner the better,” he mumbles, mind reeling as he thinks back to Topper’s sentiments from earlier, about how he pictured a different ring on your finger at this point. It makes him feel better that you’re currently tracing it with your thumb anyway, knowing you normally take your jewelry off before bed but you didn’t tonight. “He’s never gonna let me get serious with you until I do.”

“Did you discuss my dowry with him, too?”

“Y/n/n,” he sighs.

“I’m gonna wear this to dinner tomorrow,” you decide, turning to face away from him again. “Give him a fucking heart attack.”

“Just let me know so I can go to my dad’s first.”

It’s quiet between you two after that, until you clear your throat. “How was that today?”

“You found me at the Lodge.”

He can practically hear you pouting as you pull his arm tighter around you. “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault,” Rafe reminds you. “He just… you know how he is. I shouldn’t have gone at all, ‘cause I know he’s probably thinking a million different things about us right now.”

“Who cares what he thinks? Or what my dad thinks?”

Rafe does, and he knows you do, too. Maybe not as much, so he just lets the question hang there, suspended in the air.

“I don’t want you to feel like you don’t have a home here babes,” you say quietly. “You do. My dad just… I think he really cares about you. He’s probably had the same conversation with Dylan.”

Rafe squirms. “I don’t know.”

“Do you want me to talk to him?” 

“For the love of god, no,” Rafe says, smiling a little when your laugh shakes your whole body against his. Rafe left a company for you, but he doesn’t ever want you to be in a situation like his. Because some fathers didn’t love their kids, but yours loved you. “I will.”

“Good enough for me,” you murmur, angling your chin just so to ask for a kiss. Rafe meets you halfway, but lets his head hit the pillow beneath him when you posture your own body over him, your leg slotting between his. 

“Mm, baby,” Rafe murmurs in surprise, accepting a trail of neck kisses while he guides your leg over his lap completely, your knees bracketing his hips. “Baby.”

“Hm,” you hum, pushing yourself up on your hands, gazing upon him in a way that makes his heart seize. 

“We’re in your parents’ house,” Rafe practically whispers.

You shrug, making to move off. But that’s not what Rafe wanted, not at all, so his hands flex on your hips to keep you firmly in place. “You gonna let me off?”

“Well I didn’t say that.”

—

“I could get my CPA.”

You cut your eyes to Rafe where he’s walking beside you, both of your breath visible in the early morning chill. “Do you want your CPA?”

“Good money.”

“Insane hours,” you point out. 

“Used to that,” he grunts.

“True. Well, if you want to…”

He shrugs, gripping Captain’s leash a bit harder when he almost gets tangled with Wilbur for the umpteenth time that morning. “Or I could get my MBA, too. I originally wanted to go right into it after undergrad.”

“Really?” you ask, coming to a stop when Wilbur wants to wander off and sniff for a while, Captain following behind him. “Since when?”

“Freshman year. Decided against it senior year.”

“Really?” you reaffirm, continuing when he nods. “Why? Not because of us.” 

It isn’t a question, because Rafe knows you’d never let him do something so rash.

“I didn’t wanna be away from you anymore,” Rafe says, to your surprise. “It would’ve factored into where I went, for sure. Just like it would now.”

“Rafe,” you say, confused. “Why have you never… you could’ve gone anywhere you wanted. You should, still. But why… oh.”

“You’re right though,” Rafe says, ignoring the Ward of it all completely. It’s a dead horse to him, the way Ward controlled his life for so long. Forcing him back home after graduation is child’s play. “I should still. I could.”

“Do you wanna?” you ask, shifting Wilbur’s leash behind your back when he walks further off, and eventually following after him to the bush he’s intent on investigating, still glancing back at Rafe when he speaks.

“Not right now,” he says. “I knew what I wanted to do back then. I knew why I wanted to be in school.” 

“Right, no, yeah,” you assure him. “But if we ever needed to move… way ahead of myself?” 

“Miles. Lightyears,” Rafe smiles, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of your head, eyes still bleary from a night of not enough sleep for either of you, followed by a prompt exit the minute you heard movement in the house. “But I appreciate the sentiment.”

“College Rafe was such a vibe,” you sigh wistfully, reminiscing. “Bring him back.”

“Chill,” he laughs. “I could work finance anywhere. Get a job in tech on some 55th floor in the city. 401k match, stock options.”

You furrow your eyebrows at the second time he brings up money. “Do you want a job in tech?”

Another shrug. “Your dad does pretty well.” 

“Rafe…”

“I don’t have the same safety net I used to, baby. I walked away from all of this,” he says softly, almost under his breath, the old build homes you’re surrounded by suddenly feeling bigger and taller, the lawns more manicured and the cars shinier, the eyes in the windows more prying. “And I’m so happy I did. But I wanna give you everything you deserve. I wanna give it to our kids.” 

“Rafe,” you tut, stuffing Wilbur’s leash into his hand so you can wrap him in your arms, your cheek smushed into his jacket. “You’re going to. I’m gonna be here while you figure it out.” 

“I hate not having everything figured out,” he whispers. “I felt like I always did.”

“Even before you had me?” you venture, tilting your head back to look up at him. 

He smirks, looking down at you, ignoring the tug on his arm coming from the leashes. “Maybe not everything.” 

“S’what I thought,” you murmur, calves stretching with the strain to reach up and kiss him. He meets you halfway. 

“A year ago, I was telling you to quit your job,” Rafe says. “Remember that? That’s how sure everything was.”

You fake wretch, and Rafe hooks an arm around your neck, pulling you into him so he can press kisses wherever possible. 

“You’ve come so far,” you tease, batting him away half-heartedly.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket between you and Rafe groans, knowing you have to pull away in case it’s family. You do so reluctantly, reaching to tug it out of your pocket.

“How much time do we have?” Rafe sighs, assuming it’s Dylan or your parents wondering when you’ll be back. But it isn’t.

“No, it’s—Gretchen sent me our picture. From last night,” you say, eyes trailing over your faces. Rafe’s arm sits around your shoulders, where he’d half-heartedly pulled you into his body at her command. His head rests against yours, but the smiles on both of your faces don’t reach your eyes.

Rafe cranes his neck to look at it, humming a short noise before looking away. “We look…”

“A little bit miserable,” you finish, laughing lightly.

“Very,” he agrees.

You groan, your head falling to his chest as you feel the dog leashes start to tangle around you, effectively cementing you to your boyfriend. “M’so glad we moved.” 

“I kind of suck here,” Rafe admits, laughing when look up at him incredulously. “I do!”

“You better figure out how to not suck here, Rafe Leopold.”

“It’s a miracle we ever found the time to fall in love on this island,” he marvels. “We’re doing Friendsgiving in California next year, by the way."

“I know you want our kids to have OBX summers one day,” you accuse.

“They will. And we’ll pick ‘em back up from the airport in September,” he jokes. 

You push at his chest and almost send yourself falling back into the grass as you do so, forgetting your current predicament. He clutches you to him, a hand wrapped around your wrist.

“Careful, baby, Jesus,” Rafe laughs, holding your hand for balance while you attempt to untangle you both from the leashes. “You got it?”

“Think so,” you huff, sighing in relief when you’re finally freestanding, one of two separate leashes clutched in your free hand.

“Still wearing it?” Rafe says.

“Hm?” 

He tugs on your ring finger, fingers catching on the gold band you have no plan to take off soon. 

“I told you, no take-backs,” you joke, falling into step with him again while he clutches your left hand. “By the way, you know you only get one more ring, right?” 

His neck flushes pink, from the parts left uncovered by his jacket. “I think I know which one you’re talking about.”

“You do,” you tell him, bumping into him sideways. “And if the next time you pull out a velvet box, it’s not that one—”

“Oh, come on,” he says. “You didn’t actually think—in your childhood bedroom with Dylan next door—I was wearing basketball shorts.” 

You giggle. “No, no. I didn’t for more than a second.”

“Really?”

Now you get to feel embarrassed, ducking away from his mischievous eyes when you feel heat creep up your own neck. “No. I don’t know, Rafe. It’s a little velvet box. We’ve been dating for years.” 

“Sweetheart,” he coos, throwing an arm around your shoulders, pressing a kiss into the side of your head. 

“Shut up,” you mumble.

“I wasn’t even kneeling.”

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x reader #outer banks #outer banks imagine #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks x reader #obx

[topguncortez]

Congratulations on 3k!!! Could i request hangman and "im just glad youre okay"? Congrats again!!

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Shy!Wifey warnings: this is a bit dark. . . mentions of break ins, blood, hiding, fear, guns, swearing, happy ending tho:) Hangman Masterlist | Opposites Attract Masterlist Main Masterlist 3 fucking K celebration

"There's been a series of break-ins in the Sunset Hills neighborhood, which has residents on alert. Channel 10 news is-"

Jake clicked the tv off and Y/N gasped, looking over her shoulder and seeing her husband standing there, his arms folded across his chest.

"Hi," She smiled sheepishly.

"Hi yourself," He answered, "What are you doing?"

"Oh, just watching the news," Y/N pushed herself up from her spot on the couch. She walked to her husband and draped her arms around his neck, "Have I told you how much I love you?"

"I told you to quit reading into all that stuff. You're not sleeping."

Y/N sighed, she had been caught yet again. Ever since the first break in about two months ago, she had been on high alert and respectfully so. Although the chief of police told the neighborhood that no one was in danger, Y/N still felt unsafe every time she'd go to bed at night. The thieves weren't robbing houses if the occupants were home. They weren't hurting anyone or anything, but were stealing thousands of dollars and destroying property.

"I have a right to know what's going on, Jake!" Y/N argued, "I need to know what to look for incase-"

"That's not going to happen, alright," Jake said, and put his hands on her hips, "We have the best security that money can buy. Every window is armed, every door to the house is armed. Plus, we have Bucky and Steve." Jake gestured to one of the German shepherds that they owned, who was asleep at Y/N's feet. Steve was more than likely sleeping by Alex's feet.

"It still doesn't help me sleep at night," She mumbled, "But it brings me some comfort."

"I know baby, it's scary, but I'm not going to let anything happen to you or my family. Understand?" Jake asked and Y/N nodded, "Now, let's go back to bed. I have like. . . three more hours of shut-eye."

--- --- ---

Dinner at the Seresin house was always chaotic, especially when Jake wasn't there to help. It was just Y/N trying to get Alex and Ella ready for dinner. Life was hard with two toddlers, especially now that Ella started walking. It seemed like every time Y/N turned her back, Ella was pulling something to the ground or sticking something in her mouth.

Jake had texted her and told her that she was going to be late, which made her frown as she sat at the dinner table, a child on either side of her. Alex was good about feeding himself, and Ella liked to throw scraps on the floor for the dogs.

"Ella, stop feeding Bucky and Steve," Y/N scolded the little girl, who just gave her a smile before throwing yet another piece of food on the floor, "Oh you are going to be so much like your father."

"Dada!" Ella exclaimed and clapped her hands together.

"Mommy, can I have ice cream?" Alex asked and Y/N looked at her little boy who had spaghetti sauce all over his face.

"Not tonight baby, it's bath and bed," Y/N said and Alex nodded.

The sun was already down, and it sent a shiver up Y/N's spine as she carried her daughter up the stairs, Alex going in front of her. She made sure all the doors were locked as soon as she came home. She also left her car in the driveway, alerting whoever might be lurking that she is home. Jake had asked their neighbor, Paul, a retired Admiral to keep an eye on the house when he wasn't home.

Once the kids were bathed and put in their pajamas, Y/N put them to bed in her room. She had texted Jake again asking where he was, but he said he was trying to get home as soon as possible. Him and Rooster were way behind on reports. Y/N sighed as she rubbed Ella's belly as she drank a bottle before bed. She read the kids a bedtime story. When she was done, she put Ella in her pack-in play and turned the lamp off. Alex snuggled up to her, and put his thumb in his mouth, his bad habit that Y/N and Jake tried to break.

Bucky laid on the floor at the foot of the bed, while Steve laid on the bed, their heads up and turned towards the door, waiting for their other owner to return home. Neither one never truly went to sleep until all of their humans were home and in their shared bed, with them curled up at their feet. Dogs were smart, and Bucky and Steve had figured there was something changing with Y/N, and had spent more time connected to her and watching over her. Bucky let out a sigh, and lowered his head to rest in between his two front paws, eyes never leaving the door.

Sleep didn't come easy to anyone in the bedroom, but once Y/N heard Ella stop fussing and turning, she finally rested a bit, still holding on to Alex. The sound of smashing glass had Y/N, Bucky and Steve up in an instant. Y/N gasped and looked around the room. Steve had jumped down and stared at the door, as he was anticipating someone or something. Bucky had gotten up too, and moved over to Ella's bed, standing protectively. Y/N jumped out of bed, grabbing your phone and holding a sleeping Alex to her chest.

She looked around the room, and went to the bathroom attached to their room. Alex woke up a bit at the jostling of his body and groaned in his sleep. His green eyes opened up to see Y/N in a panic set him down on the hard tile of the bathtub.

"Mom-"

"Shh," Y/N shushed him and grabbed a blanket, "Cover your head, be quiet." Alex nodded, too scared to say anything. She then went to the pack-in play and reached in, grabbing Ella, when she heard footsteps and voices. Steve growled and Y/N shushed him. She rushed to the closet and set Ella down with her brother.

"Hold on to Ella," Y/N told Alex and he nodded, taking Ella into his arms. Luckily, the little girl was a heavy sleepier and was still asleep. She turned the lock, and shut the door, locking the kids inside. Y/N felt her heart racing as she grabbed the pairing knife she kept underneath the mattress. She dialed 9-1-1 and held the phone to her ear as the footsteps got closer.

“I’m armed and calling 9-1-1!” Y/N yelled, hoping to scare off whoever was in her house. Bucky had moved over to the bathroom door, while Steve was still pointed at the door. Y/N moved and ran to her bedroom closet, hiding inside.

“9-1-1, what is your emergency?”

“H-hi, I think someone just broke into my house," She whispered, "I-I have kids with me."

"Ma'am, someone has already called it in, and a unit is on the way. Where are you located?"

"My kids are in the bathroom, I locked it. I'm hiding in the closet. My dogs are in the room."

"Are you armed?"

Y/N looked down at the knife in her head and let out a shaky breath, "Yes. But please hurry I think-"

Her words got cut off by the bedroom door opening and the dogs barking. Y/N clamped her hand over her mouth as she dropped the phone and held onto the knife tightly, ready to use it if needed.

--- --- ---

Jake’s eyes were straining as he drove home on the dark streets. Everything was closed, and the only thing illuminating the night sky were the street lights. He was hoping to be home earlier than two in the morning, but time had slipped past Rooster and him. Jake had to finally call it quits and go home to his family. He had been away from them all day, and his body was starting to shut down.

Except when Jake turned the corner to his street, he was met with the bright flashing lights of cop cars and ambulances. He felt bile rise in his stomach as he parked his truck, and jumped out, running towards the crowd of onlookers in their bathrobes and pajamas. The closer he got to the scene the more he recognized the cops walking around his house. He felt bile rise in his throat as he ran to the police barricade.

"Sir, you can't go through," An officer said, stopping Jake from pushing through the yellow tape.

"That's my house!" Jake yelled, pointing at the house, "That's my family!"

"Sir, it is an active crime scene," The officer said and Jake felt his knees go weak. He looked around the scene, running a hand down his face as he spotted his kids sitting in the back of an ambulance. Jake pushed his way through, despite the various officers trying to hold him back.

"Sir!" An officer grabbed him as Jake approached his kids.

"Daddy!" Alex yelled.

"Those are my kids! Those are my fucking kids!" Jake yelled, fighting against the cops hold.

"Let him go," Another cop said, and Jake was freed from the constraint. He ran straight for Alex and hugged him.

"Are you okay?" Jake asked, and looked over his son and then at the medic who was holding his daughter.

"They are both fine, sir," The medic said and handed Ella to Jake. He held his daughter tightly and placed a kiss on the top of her head, drinking in the familiar scent of her baby shampoo.

"My wife?" Jake asked, "W-where is she?"

"They took her to the Memorial, just to get some of her injuries checked out," The medic answered and Jake felt his heart stop. Alex tugged at his hand and Jake looked at his son.

"The police officer said mommy's a hero," Alex said and Jake nodded.

"Yeah, she is," Jake said, "Come on, let's go find her."

The hospital was nearly empty as Jake walked through the door, Ella on his hip and Alex holding his hand. A nurse directed him to where he could find his wife's room at. Jake was expecting the worse, as he walked down the hall towards her room. An older nurse was staying with the kids in the lobby. Jake didn't want to scar them by seeing their mother in a bad condition.

But when Jake opened the door to her room, he was met with the sight of her practically unharmed. Her face was turned away from the door, and she looked to be sleeping peacefully. He couldn't see any injury from that far away, but the closer he got, the more he could see.

"Sweets?" Jake called out softly. Y/N jumped a bit and then turned to look at her husband. His heart fell into his stomach as he saw her bruised face, "Oh my god."

"Cops said I put up one hell of a fight," She smiled, her busted lip cracking. Jake gently touched her face. Her nose was broken and was displaying a magnificent purple and blue bruise underneath her eyes. Her eyebrow had been cut and stitched up as well.

"I am so sorry," Jake sniffled, "I should've been home. I should've-"

"So you can look like this too?" Y/N asked and Jake shook his head, "We are okay. A little shaken up, but they caught the guys doing all this. No one got hurt, no one is seriously injured. We are okay."

Jake nodded and ran his thumb over her cheek bone, "I'm just glad you're okay."

"I am too," Y/N said, "I love you Jake."

"I love you too," Jake kissed her forehead.

#top gun #top gun fan fic #top gun fan fiction #top gun imagine #top gun maverick #top gun maverick imagine #top gun maverick fan fic #top gun maverick fan fiction #Jake seresin #Jake Seresin fan fic #Jake Seresin fan fiction #Jake Seresin imagine #Jake Seresin x reader #Jake Seresin x you #Jake Seresin x y/n #Jake Seresin x shy!wifey #Jake hangman seresin #hangman seresin #hangman fan fic #hangman fan fiction #hangman imagine #hangman x reader #hangman x you #hangman x y/n

[orangebl0ssoms]

𝐍𝐞𝐰 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬, 𝐍𝐞𝐰 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐬: non-idol!skz x oc

wordcount: 11k

chapter warning(s): violence, cursing, movie reference(s), mentions of injuries, etc.

synopsis: Ha-na and Mo-mi unintentionally break into an abandoned wearhouse where they get caught by a group of 8 rebellions, a man-made organization called, Stray Kids.

a/n: just a quick note, i got the inspo for the boys and the house off some pinterest fanart a while back, the creators insta is, koyasumi, so cudos to them, the boys designs are not made up by me. FULL CREDIT TO THEM YALL PLS.

<3

“That’s poison ivy, and that’s poison ivy-” Ha-na timidly itched her arms glaring down at the tall grass, Mo-mi who struggled to carry her own backpack; filled with food and essentials from the store, rolled her eyes. “Not every fucking plant is poison ivy, Ha-na.” She grunted out.

The two walked through an open field, overlooking a lake. Sunlight beamed over their silhouettes, while birds chirped in the distance, a rare look for the setting in the homeless area. “Are we gonna be there soon?” Mo-mi whined, “You’ve been asking that for the past 10 minutes, nothing has changed.” Ha-na grumbled, in which the other girl sighed. “Maybe if I wasn’t carrying the heaviest bags of the bunch.”

Hana stared down at the map in one hand, ignoring her friend’s complaints. Her eyes lit up, “Ooh! We’re getting closer I think.”

Mo-mi glanced over briefly, “Don’t play with me.” She raised a brow. Hana shook her off with a small wave of her palm, “It’s fine, we’ll be there at dawn, probably?”

Mo-mi immediately dropped the bag, laying on the grass, “What do you mean, ‘probably’? That’s still too long.” She puffed her lips up. Hana stared down at the girl in amusement. She takes a seat next to her, “Do you need a break?” Mo-mi nodded, “Just a bit.” Throwing an arm over her eye to block out the golden rays shining in her eyes.

Hana looked down at her watch, “Well, we’re gonna go soon. So hurry-” The minute those words left her mouth, Mo-mi was fast asleep.

So the day went on.

—

Mo-mi’s eyes twitched open to the sound of crunching, as if someone was eating chips. Low and behold when she rubbed her eyes and glanced to the side, Hana had her mouth stuffed with chips as she doodled on a little notepad she found inside of her duffel. Hana swiftly turned around upon hearing the chuckle that came from behind her. “Don’t scare me like that!” She placed a hand on her chest, letting out a small huff. Mo-mi scoffed, “You’re the one who woke me up with your loud chewing.” Hana slowly gulped her food down with red cheeks, before glancing down at her watch. “We need to go.” She huffed, placing her chips down.

“Jesus. How long did I sleep?” Mo-mi yawned, standing up, glancing up at the sky with squint, the atmosphere darker than before she had slept. “A couple hours. I didn’t want to go through the pain of waking you up, so I let you sleep.”

Mo-mi grinned softly tilting her head to the side, “Aw-”

“Yeah, whatever. Carry your bags.” Hana shoved the the heavy bag and her belongings into her arms. Mo-mi rolled her eyes as they both got their gear on, “I take it back.”

“Ready?”

“Yeah, let’s go.”

—

Hana and Mo-mi made their way down a hill, the moonlight sparkling over the dark blue water, the sprinkles of water since it was about to rain, nothing but small crickets in the distance and silence, or what should’ve been silence for the two considering the small argument Mo-mi may have started. In the girl’s defense, all she asked was a simple question. ‘Are cat’s better than dogs?’

“Dogs have many beneficial qualities that help humans, alright?” Mo-mi rolled her eyes at Hana’s assumption, “Oh alright Bill Nye, where did you get your information from, google? Cause clearly…” Mo-mi glanced around, “There’s no cell tower around here.”

“So what?”

“So your information is wrong and I'm right.” Hana glanced over appalled, “Actually, no, that’s not how that works. i’m not bull-shitting, alright? I’ve had a dog before-”

“Yes. Five years ago.” Mo-mi deadpanned. “Doesn’t mean anything has changed.” Hana snapped as the other girl placed her hands up in defense, “My reason is valid.”

“No it’s-”

Mo-mi stopped, huffing out a small ‘shut up’ staring ahead. “Look.” They both stared at what looked like a big house, or what looked to be a home. A bunch of bushes and trees, sticks and wire, covered the opening, it looked as if someone moved them there to keep people out. Hana nodded her head towards them, both immediately pushing past the tree branches and barbed wire with ease. The two looked up, welcomed with a huge dark, looking wearhouse. As big as a building almost. “Oh my god…” Mo-mi gasped. Hana nodded, staring up with the same amount of amazement in her eyes as Mo.

“Alright, no offense but when the hell did the homeless start building cool things?” Mo-mi turned to Hana who ran a hand down her face. “I don’t know, but someone is definitely living here.” She nodded assuredly. Mo-mi furrowed her brows, “You don’t know that?” Hana went to protest until Mo-mi cut her off, “We can just check, alright? If there are, we can leave. Simple.” Hana rolled her eyes, “Fine, but if we get caught, I swear-”

“We won’t. Chill.”

—

Unfortunately, their small heist didn’t go on for too long. As the two moved around the perimeter of the warehouse, Ha-na made the move of knocking on the door, only for it to slowly creak open. “That’s creepy...” Mo-mi muttered from under her scarf, Ha-na nodded in agreement before placing a palm on Mo-mi’s shoulder, “You check the outside, i’ll get the inside.” Mo-mi nodded as they both parted ways. The shorter girl’s steps were light against the cold floor on the inside, the girl was met with a homey space, well homey to a man. The scene looked as if it were to be on a set of a movie, very put together as if someone had been living there.

Skateboards were lined up on the wall, paint splatters used as decoration, a leftover pizza box on the put together coffee table, soda cans, etc.

It was oddly clean, ‘A boy definitely lives here…or a couple at least?’ Hana thought. As she looked through the house, Mo-mi snuck around the backyard, finding a garage. She raised a brow, staring down at the half assed toy buttons to open the door, one red one green. Once pressing her finger down on the green button, the door lifted only to reveal a shiny looking car, spray painted with tons of colors and various different words with orange road cones lined along the roof. One recurring word that stood out to Mo-mi was the ‘SKZ’ was spray painted on the front doors. She hummed with a small frown, walking off.

Hana walked all around the house to see what she’d find. What had her on edge was that every door was open, no equipment nor shoes lying around, just empty. She was greeted with a small door at the end of the stairs she walked down. She looked down at the rusted lock hanging with a chain wrapped around the handle, it had been a small door down that led to what she would assume was a basement. Making an attempt to pry it open or unlock the small lock hanging on the handle wasn’t enough, it was as if it got budged or blocked. Hana swiftly smacked down the lock on the door with the handle of her scythe, successfully opening the door. She carried on down the wooden steps, coming face to face with a large white room with a bunch of motorcycles lined up. Huge bikes, all spray painted on. Ha-na’s jaw dropped, she couldn’t even count the amount if she wanted to. ‘This person must love bikes’ She thought.

“Jesus.” Hana muttered, only to hear the resounding noise of a gun clock.

Before Ha-na could take stance, a bullet flew past her shoulder. She let out a small yelp, her hand gripping where the bullet grazed. turning around to see a flash of white hair and smoke move behind a small wall. The lights turned off just when Ha-na went to grab her scythe. “Whoever the hell is here, stop fucking around!” The girl yelped, her breathing fastening, her body tense but ready to pounce as she looked around. Once hearing the small snort of laughter that came from behind her, definitely too deep to be Mo-mi’s, she took cover just before an array of bullets flew her way.

On the other side of the door, Mo-mi’s head shot up from her knees upon hearing the gunshots. She stood up from the floor and called out, “Ha-na? Ha-na!” Her eyes darting around her surroundings. She tried to yank open the door that was previously open before, now locked. “What the fu-” just as her fists made contact to bang on the door, an arrow flew past her head, multiple actually. Mo-mi ducked and whipped around to see where the arrows were shot from. Through the bushes near the woods, Mo-mi couldn’t fully identify who it was due to the darkness. The person finally stood up, making the glare from the porch light cascade over over the mask they had on. To Mo-mi it looked to be a girl at first due of the brown bun they rocked, but it had to have been a man due to his height and the muscle he was packing, the only thing that wasn’t revealed was his face, covered by a cat mask.

Mo-mi moved to walk up to him, “Who the hell are-” only to be cut off by someone kicking her in the back, almost sending her forward off her feet. She groaned and glanced up from the ground to be met with another guy, this one had been shorter, bright blond hair and bangs with red streaks. A red jacket and a white ripped crop top, showing his abdomen. This ones mask was yellow, resembling a chick. Not a cat, but a yellow chick. “What is this? some kind of cult?’ Mo-mi genuinely thought. The girl went to look for her bow, glancing down at the ground where her backpack was supposed to be, but had been in the hands of the taller man.

He tossed it into the bushes, as the smaller guy ressasured him. “I’ve got this one, go help the others.” He spoke in Korean, as if giving him a signal to leave. The low register of his voice shocked the girl, as she watched his friend nod and unlock the door with the end of her bow with ease, walking in. The masked man’s head slowly turned back, almost as if a switch went off in his head, but Mo-mi knew how to play nasty too.

She watched as he took one of his swords off his back, this didn’t faze Mo-mi. In fact, once he swung his sword down to hit her she swiftly moved back, initially dodging the blade of the weapon. Their speed matched up to one anothers. Mo-mi was a pretty skilled fighter, but her tactics barely stood against his own. Knowing this, the same moves she made wasn’t going to hold him off forever. So she ran off, leading him back behind the house, where she wanted him.

Meanwhile, Ha-na winced, covering her ears at the loud sound of gunshots hitting her ears, bullets flying past her, not only from one person but two, one had a fox mask while the other had a bunny one. She was hidden behind a small pillar, which wouldn’t act as a barrier for long considering how much they shot at it.

Until it stopped, followed by silence. The air was sharp, warm, as if someone was about to make a move. Just as Do Ha-na moved to grab her weapon, she felt a harsh tug on the back of her hood, pulling her up over the counter. Ha-na yelped loudly making eye contact with bunny mask. Acting quickly, she kicked him in the stomach making him stumbling back.

Bunny clearly wasn’t affected, nor did he even budge. The other male in the back, fox mask, laid back against the wall lighting another cigarette. His gun fell to the floor, Hana could practically feel the smirks sprawled across their faces. “This’ll be fun.” White hair chuckled, bunny mask rolled his white sleeves up nodding his head. “Make a move.”

Hana scoffed, cracking her neck, knowing the two were only trying to rile her up more. She replicated the head nod back, the man sighed in response. Cracking his knuckles, he made the first move by lunging at her, throwing fists, in which she swiftly blocked. The man ended up being able to get Hana to a disadvantage after she went to throw a punch, grabbing her arm and using it to flip her onto her back. The move almost knocked the air from out her lungs.

She spun in a circle, rounding her feet over his arm, replicating the same move he used on her. Only this time he was able to throw her off him, using his strength…and he was very strong. Ha-na was punched.

Mo-mi was kicked. In the nose. She stumbled back while wiping her leaking nose; glaring at the blonde male stalking towards her. She swerved and slid across the concrete with such ease just to get away from his blatant attacks. Leaping away from him, she used his shoulder as a leverage once he swiped at her with the sword. The two both fall back from the force, Mo-mi rolling into the garage of the wearhouse.

Before Mo-mi could get up, he was fast on his feet, sprinting at her with the sword ready to attack her with. Upon swinging his blade at her she ducked and rolled, the blade hitting the side of the house, initially breaking the sword in half with a resounding ‘clink’. Mo-mi chuckled, watching as the man shook his head and dropped the rest of the sword onto the cement. “You think this is funny?” The man spoke in english. His voice was not only deep but held a thick australian accent. The moment was amusing to the girl. Not much for him.

Hana was pushed down into a chokehold onto the floor, she gasped for air as the man spoke into her ear. “Who are you?” He hissed, tightening his grip when she didn’t answer. “Not gonna answer me?” He huffed. Hana seethed, immediately gripping onto his forearms, letting her powers burn his arm with a bright light coursing through them. He yelped loudly, yanking his arms back, falling back onto the floor. “The fuck was that?!” The platinum exclaimed, grabbing his gun just as bunny stood up, the two left utter silence.

“Listen to me, or else I won’t hesitate to kill the both of you.” Hana pointed her scythe that radiated a gold glow, she panted seeing as the two didn’t make any moves to stop her. “You’re-”

“I-” She stuttered, just realizing what she had done by outing not only herself, but Mo-mi as well. All of a sudden she felt hot sparks of electricity crack up her sides before she fell to the ground, instantly passing out. The man who tased her, had stood behind her figure with a wolf mask. “You two go find the other, I’ll take this one.” He spoke, grabbing the girl by her sides, tossing her body over his shoulder with ease.

—

Mo-mi was about to get ganged up on by the rest of the men that surrounded her, and time was running out. They stared down at her with impulsive eyes. It was as if she were prey and they were the wolves. That was till the smoky black mist that manifested from her palms, exerted out towards the 7 men. The shock wave sent them back onto the ground, the force practically knocking the wind from half their lungs. They were all left groaning as Mo-mi laid unconscious.

That’s when Wolf mask entered the room, his buff arms folded, he was amused.

“Let’s clear out.”

#stray kids #skz #skz fanfic #skz imagines #skz scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #skz fluff #skz smau #skz smut #stray kids x oc #bang chan x oc #bang chan #hyunjin #hyunjin x oc #felix #lee know x oc #lee know #changbin #seungmin #jeongin #jeongin smut

[bagerfluff]

can I request stiles stilinski x male reader

take place way after void has been defeated

plot new student joins the school and he very tall muscular leather wearing bad boy who stiles become whipped for reader ask stiles out and stiles agrees all to excitedly but scott doesn't like nor trust reader you know how stiles usually the paranoid one well this time stiles is not but Scott is you know when Scott get paranoid it bad real bad Scott is having a full on paranoid panic attack that because he can't sense what reader is but Scott know reader not human leading Scott to believe reader is the most dangerous thing Scott and the pack has ever encountered and Scott just suppose to let his best friend be hang around reader absolutely not so imagine Scott reaction to stiles telling him that stiles and reader are going on a date alone all by themselves at night --------- reader is a hybrid between a demon and a hellhound and a nogistue

reader father is a hybrid between a demon and a hellhound reader mother is a nogistue like void

Your wish is my command and I hope I fulfilled your wish. If you wish for a part two tell me and I might do it.

The New Kid

Stiles Stilinski x Male Reader

Set after season three

Stiles sighed as he entered Beacon Hills High School. He had stayed up all night studying for a test that he was ninety percent sure he was going to fail. So Stiles was half asleep as he walked over to his locker where Scott was already there. Waiting for Stiles. But he was looking behind him. “Hey Scott” Stiles yawned as he opened his locker. “Hey Stiles,” Scott said, looking over at Stiles but still glancing over his shoulder. “Who are you looking at?” Stiles asked, looking over Scott’s shoulder. I'm not waiting for Scott to answer him. When Stiles eyes landed on who Scott was looking at, Stiles eyes widened, and he blushed.

He was looking at Y/n. You were new to Beacon Hills. Having moved in a few months ago and joining the high school student body a couple of weeks ago. Y/n was given the name as the ‘bad boy’ by the students. You were pretty tall and muscular despite not being on the lacrosse team. He also wore black leather jackets and jeans. Y/n was kind of a loner because almost everyone was scared of him. Stiles for him hot. Ever since Stiles first saw Y/n. He was in Stiles math class, so he saw you almost every day. “Why are you looking at him?” Stiles asked once he was done gawking at you and looking back at Scott. Who was  still looking at you.

Scott had been watching you ever since you came to the school. He’d watch you whenever he got the chance. His eyes squinted as he basically glared at you. “I don’t know,” Scott said as he started to walk to his first class. As not to be late. Stiles quickly shut his locker and ran to catch up to Scott. “I just get a bad feeling from him,” Scott said as he stopped right outside his classroom. “But he didnt’ do anything,” Stiles said as he stopped right in front of Scott. “I just get a bad feeling from him. Might be instincts. Scott said as he entered the classroom. Stiles couldn't really argue with that. Since Scott was a werewolf, he had some sixth sense to see if someone was evil.

But you hadn’t done anything. You were acting weird. You weren’t connected to any supernatural thing that was happening. Was that what Scott was talking about? Did he sense you were supernatural? Surely not. Stiles was about to ask Scott, but the bell rang, and the teacher entered that classroom. Guess Stiles would have to ask him later.

Scott sighed as he sat in his history class. It was about halfway through the day, and Scott wasn’t really listening to anything any of his teachers have said. He was too busy thinking about you. Scott could tell that you weren’t human, You didn’t smell right. Plus, when he used his wolf sight, he saw some weird red figure around you. It looked like a wild dog mixed with a cat or a fox. Scott couldn’t really tell. Plus, the figure had horns. Like demon horns. Scott could tell from when he was near you that you were powerful. More powerful than anything he and his pack had ever faced. But what were you planning? Nothing weird or supernatural had happened in a while. Were you waiting for the right time to attack.

Were you waiting for Scott to be alone? It was even worse since Stiles seemed to validate you. Scott could hear Stiles heartbeat increased whenever you were mentioned or when Stiles saw you. Did you put him under a spell? Could you do magic? Scott didn’t know. And that scared Scott. Scott knew you were dangerous. But he didn’t know why or how. So, for now, he had to keep his friends safe. Till he could figure out what you were and what you were planning. Maybe Scott could ask Deaton what you were. Or Derek. Someone. He needed to know. But for now, all he could do was wait. And keep an eye on you. 

“So why do you think Y/n is evil?” Stiles asked Scott during lunch. Stiles was eating his lunch as Scott just looked at you. You were actually eating your lunch. Or that’s what Scott thought. Your back was facing the two boys. “I think he’s supernatural,” Scott said as he looked back at Stiles. Leaning closer to the boy and whispering so nobody could overhear them. “So that makes him evil?” Stile asked. He was confused. Just because you were supernatural doesn't mean you were evil. You hadn’t even done anything. Now that made Scott confused. Any other time, Scott said he thought someone was supernatural. Stiles would be paranoid. But now he wasn’t. Scott wondered why Stiles seemed to defend you. 

Scott leaned closer to Stiles to tell Stiles that he thought you might be the most powerful thing they had ever faced. Stiles eyes widened as Scott leaned back down and turned his head to glare at you. Were you evil? Stiles didn’t think so. You hadn’t done or said anything to make anyone think you were evil. But Scott was the werewolf, and Stiles wasn’t. So maybe Scott was right. Stiles leaned his body so he could look at you. Though Scott had told him that you might be evil, Stiles couldn’t help himself from thinking that you were hot. Your hair, eyes, face, body. Everything. Stiles sighed as he went back to eating. 

Stiles ran out the doors of the school as the bell rang. But he stopped when he heard someone call out his name. Stiles turned around, and he blushed as he saw you walking over to him. “Hey Stilinski” you said once you were close enough. “Hey L/n” Stiles said as he tried to keep eye contact. But hell, your eyes were pretty. “I was wondering if you wanted to go on a date?” You asked with a sly smile. Stiles blushed as he heard you and by that smile. Got you were hot. Stiles shook his head to remove his thought, but then quickly nodded. “YES!” Stiles yelled but was then embarrassed by how loud he yelled. You let out a little laugh at Stiles cuteness as you pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to him. “Call me cutie” you said with a wink as you walked away. 

Stiles looked down at the note and smiled. But Scott was scared. You see, Scott was waiting for Stiles in his jeep. And heard your entire conversation. What were you planning? Why did you want to go on a date with Stiles? Did you want to hurt Stiles? Maybe you wanted to hurt Scott by hurting Stiles? Scott was scared. Maybe he could convince Stiles not to go. Scott was staring into space as Stiles got into the driver's seat of the jeep and placed the note in his bag. “Did you hear!” Stiles yelled at Scott. Shocking him out of his thoughts. “I’m going on a date with the hottest guy at the school!” Stiles was excited. He was going on a date with you. Tonight. The note had a phone number and a time and place for your date.

“Are you sure this is safe?” Scott asked but continued talking before Stiles could answer him. “What if he is evil? What if he’s trying to kill you?” Stiles eyes widened as he realized how scared and paranoid Scott was. Scott and Stiles stayed silent after Scott was done talking. Scott took a breath in before he continued talking “I don’t know what Y/n is, and that scares me” Stiles nodded, telling Scott to continue. And Scott did “let me at least talk to Deaton before you go on a date with him” Stiles nodded as he started the car and started to drive to Scott’s house. Maybe Scott was right? But if Stiles doesn't go on a date now, he may never get the chance to again. Surely, going on one date isn’t bad, right?

How bad could you be? How dangerous could you be? Surely, you were just a werewolf, and Scott was paranoid. Right?

#lgbtq #teen wolf x male reader #teen wolf x reader #teen wolf fanfiction #teen wolf #stiles stilinski x male reader #stiles stilinski

[k9wa]

༊*·˚ CHERRY HILL. featuring haruchiyo sanzu, manjiro sano, kazutora hanemiya.

∴ SYNOPSIS : the dreadful reasons that, despite the home you find in one another, you fight.

∴ CONTENT : angst, fighting, general shitty relationship things, sanzu is toxic, mikey is a mess, kaz needs a therapist, gn reader (no referring pronouns.)

∴ NOTE : i love my babygirls but i also love the way they r all very intricate and flawed characters :] big fan of how this came out i hope you enjoy!!

༉‧₊˚. HARUCHIYO SANZU.

── his empty promises.

⠀

“baby, plea—”

“fuck you.” 

sanzu trailed you through your apartment's hallways, his heavy footsteps echoing through the otherwise quiet home. maybe you shouldn’t have let him inside after he showed up at roughly four in the morning, however, there was something about sanzu haruchiyo, such a big dog with such a mean bite, leaning against your door frame like a sad puppy, that always had you undoing the latch against your better judgement.

maybe you just preferred the peace of mind from knowing he was passed out in your living room rather than one of his clubs, or the floor of his office.

“just talk to me for a minute.” 

“i’m not in the mood for your bullshit apology right now.”

“i know you’re pissed–”

“don’t try to level with me. either leave me alone or go the fuck home.”

“just listen to me for five minutes!”

sanzu continued to plead as he trailed behind you, all you wanted was to get into your room and lock the door, so you could deal with him in the morning, while he wasn’t still coming down from the high that sparked such an issue in the first place.

“listen to you what, lie to me more? ill pass.” sanzu gritted his teeth at how you hadn’t even bothered to turn around to talk to him. 

you finally reached your room, but before you got the chance to close yourself away in it, sanzu stuck his leather shoe tight in the gap between the wooden frame and the door. with a heavy heart, alongside an equally heavy sigh, you looked up at him. 

his sclera were red, and dry, the beautiful pink hair he always prided himself on found a chaotic pattern around his bangs, and there were those sad puppy dog eyes he always managed to trap you in. 

he sets the bait,

“please.” 

you eye the trap.

“...five minutes. that's it..” 

the creak of the hinges is music to his ears as you open the door to allow him inside. he follows you to the bed and gets comfortable beside you, reaching a hand over to run his fingers along your knuckles. he snapped to grab your hand before you’re able to pull it away from his touch.

“i didn’t mean to blow up on you.” you’re silent. “was just– way too fuckin’ high and lost my temper.”

sanzu put his free hand on the small of your back, a gesture intended to bring you some form of comfort, yet it only made you feel trapped. he drops his head onto your shoulder. 

“‘m sorry. you know i love you.”

did you?

“‘m gonna do better, from now on. promise.”

he’s not, nor will he ever.

“you know y’mean the world t’me.”

he’s still slurring his words.

“haruchiyo–” he brings your hand up to his cheek and kisses your palm. 

you knew he was just hungover, that the only reason his touch with you was so tender and desperate was due to the lack of dopamine flooding his brain. 

so why did it feel so good? why was his skin so warm, his grip so welcoming?

why were you running your thumb across his cheek, and bringing a hand to push the hair out of his eyes? 

“you make me wanna be better.” his lips ghost the skin of your neck. “i’ll be better. i fucking swear.”

you know in a barely week he’ll be back in your arms, swearing up and down that this time is the last, that you’re everything to him, with you arguing back that his actions showed the opposite.

so why did you believe him? 

you eye the trap.

“okay.” you lifted his head, and kissed the dried sweat on his forehead. 

“i believe you.”

he’s got you, hook line and sinker.

༉‧₊˚. MANJIRO SANO.

── his destructiveness.

⠀

mikey wasn’t like anyone you had ever been with.

mikey didn’t shout, or raise his voice at you, he never raised his hand as a threat.

when mikey was upset, he acted like you didn’t even exist to him.

no phone calls, no texts, he’d walk right past you without so much as a glance, as if you were a spirit haunting the bonten corridors, invisible to the men who inhabited them.

this went on until you would finally break, until you were apologizing for things you didn’t even do. or sometimes the ladder, the bottled up emotions would explode all at once. 

in those moments, mikey would hit back, and he hit hard.

“you just— can you be an adult about this? do you have to do this every time you get pissed off for god knows what reason??”

you shouted at the man sat way too calmly in front of you. he, like several times before, hadn’t talked to you in days, and your over-stretched bubble of emotions had finally burst. 

“will you stop yelling?”

“no!”

why should you? you had every right to be pissed. 

“i’m not gonna stop yelling until you finally tell me what the fuck your problem is!” 

you’re pacing around the floor of his office, talking frantically with your hands. mikey’s jaw clenches as he stares up at you from his chair, through heavy eyelids. 

mikey didn’t shout, or raise his voice at you, he never raised his hand as a threat.

mikey hit you where it hurt. 

“what my problem is..?”

he placed his palms on his desk, a feeble attempt at grounding himself. he felt the words bubbling up in the back of his throat, they stung, they were acidic.

mikey was destructive.

he burned all his bridges, save for you. sometimes he felt that maybe, you should join his friends as just another person in his past.

where mikey went, destruction followed.

“you’re insufferable. that’s what my problem is.”

your pacing came to a steady stop, the words begin to bounce around in your head. 

“…what?” you practically muttered.

“why are you even here? do you really think i give a shit about anything you’re even saying right now?

do you, honest to god, think i don’t have anything more important to do? huh?”

mikey saw the way you shrunk, and in the back of his mind, in the deepest, darkest corner, he wanted to stop. he wanted to stand up and apologize, to kiss all over your face the same way he did when you were upset as teenagers, just to make you smile.

alas, he wasn’t a kid anymore, and that corner of his brain was just too deep, and too dark.

“is that really how you feel?”

your tone was so different than it was just seconds ago. mikey bit the inside of his cheek, and the look on your face somehow shone a light into that closed off, foggy section of his head.

“…just go home.”

maybe he didn’t want to burn his bridge with you, maybe that’s why he hadn’t. you were his light at the end of his tunnel vision.

you blinked away the tears building up on your lower lashes. 

“okay, fine.” 

you walked calmly to pick up your bag off the lounge chair you’d thrown it on.

“i'll be there if you wanna talk.”

you shouldn’t have given him the option, he thought. he doesn’t deserve your willingness to hear him out, to forgive him.

manjiro didn’t respond as he watched you walk out, he saw the way your head hung low, the light in your eyes dulled.

god how he wished the destruction that trailed him would finally throw him a bone, just this once.

༉‧₊˚. KAZUTORA HANEMIYA.

── his demons.

⠀

“dunno why you’re here.”

the smell of cigarette smoke filled kazutora’s sinuses, the butt of his smoke hung from his lips as he nursed the filter. his eyes held a visible cloudiness as he looked over the city, leaned lazily over the railing at the top of his apartment building.

“because i don’t wanna fight anymore.”

you hated the feeling of his back towards you, the aura you could practically see covering him, it was dark, like a thick tar was coating his soul. 

kazutora had so many mental wars he fought each day, and as much as you wanted to help him through them, sometimes all you could do was sit and wait for a letter home from your soldier.

he fought his battles, and he did it well. yet kazutora was human, and he just couldn’t keep shaking the inevitable shell shock.

“so go home then.”

kazutora had a switch in his brain that, most of the time, was off. that was when you experienced the version of him you had fallen for in the first place, his usual clumsy, sweet self. you weren’t sure why it happened, nor what would cause it, if anything specific at all, but every so often he would wake up and the switch would be turned on. 

cue, hanemiya politely telling you to fuck off on his roof top.

“‘tora, please.”

it was important to try not to take anything he said in those times of instability to heart, you knew he wasn’t himself, that a fog was floating around his head.

“leave. seriously.”

kazutora in that moment wanted nothing more than for you to leave and forget he even existed. 

he hated himself, and hated the things he’d done in his past even more. the domino effect of disaster he started single handedly.

kazutora was a forest fire, the flames that endlessly spread, and overtime burned down all the beautiful greenery that surrounded him. he couldn’t stand to watch himself turn you to ash as well.

“i’m not going—”

“for fucks sake—leave! just—just go home! or to chifuyu’s or fucking somewhere that isn’t here!” 

he couldn’t face you, couldn’t look into the eyes he so desperately wanted to never be tainted by the sins following him ever again. 

“‘tora—”

“don’t. please don’t.”

kazutora could hear ringing in his ears, and pressed his palms into his eyes. he could feel himself becoming undone at the seams.

it subsided for just a moment when he felt your arms around his waist, your head rested on his back.

“fine, i'll go home. you can come talk to me when you’re ready.”

it took all of his self control not to turn around, not to hug you and beg you to help him, to do something about the black sludge in his brain he could never seem to wipe away. 

he was silent as you pulled away, he could hear your footsteps get further.

“i love you, okay?”

all kazutora could think is how he wishes you didn’t.

ˎˊ˗ masterlist.

ˎˊ˗ send me an ask!

#haruchiyo sanzu #sanzu haruchiyo #mikey tokyo revengers #sano manjiro #manjiro sano #hanemiya kazutora #kazutora hanemiya #sanzu x reader #mikey x reader #kazutora x reader #tokyo revengers #tokyo rev imagine #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo rev #tokyo revengers fanfiction #tokyo revengers x reader #mikey angst #sanzu angst #kazutora angst #tokyo rev x you #tokyorev headcanons #tokyo rev fluff #UNEARTHLY

[joelsfavoritegirl]

pre-outbreak joel hcs because i’m bored out of my mind and fantasising about this man is 10x better than studying<33 (and because pixel joel deserves all the love in the world, my bb is barely on tumblr anymore since the show came out)

. opens doors for you, doesn’t matter where or when. you’re getting out of the car? he’s already on the passenger side, tugging the door handle open. you’re about to enter some building? he’s already pulling/pushing the door handle open, that small smile on his lips as he steps aside to let you in first, his hand by reflex guiding you in on the small of your back

. ALSO CAN WE TALK ABOUT HIS HANDS, on you at all times wherever whenever. i definitely think joel isn’t a huge fan of pda (he prefers keeping you to himself, i’ll die on this hill if i have to), but ohmygod his hands are always lingering. the small of your back as he leads you somewhere, your waist if it’s cold out or you just happen to be close to him, an arm over your shoulder as you walk/sit, it’s to fucking die forrr

. wouldn’t know how to cook shit (as confirmed by Tommy in tlou2). burns every possible thing he can, would barely be able to flip a pancake if you asked him to. he’d panic like a little kid left alone at the cash register, fumbling with the pan and spatula before it all somehow ends up on the countertop (or the floor).

however, a steak or grilled cheese from this man? all your problems are solved, it’s like he switches to some chef alter-ego whenever you ask him to make it. also acts like it’s the most non-chalant thing ever, trying to ignore the fact that he can’t cook to save his life yet he can make a grilled cheese you’d choose as your last meal if you could.

“holy shit… this is so good?!”

he’s just staring at you, confused at the shock on your face, “is… that a bad thing, sweets?”

“no, not at all. it’s just… this is fuckin’ delicious and… well, your history with cooking isn’t really the best, y’know?”

“shut up,” and he’s biting off half of your sandwich, chuckling as you swat him away annoyedly.

. also can we talk about this? mr let-me-have-a-bite-and-proceeds-to-eat-the-whole-thing Miller. is it like a universal dad thing or smth?

can’t trust him with cooking, can’t trust him with food at all really. it doesn’t really matter what you have (ice cream, a sandwich, some drink you just bought, he’ll eat anything), you can bet your ass he’s probably gonna ask you if he can have a bite/sip of it.

“no,” you retort, tucking the smoothie you bought from the stand literally five seconds ago behind your back, “you won’t like it. you’re just gonna drink the whole thing and i won’t have anything left.”
“c’mon sweets, you know i ain’t like that,” his hand is on his hip, a knowing smirk on his lips as he tries to defend himself/gaslight you (quite badly), “just a small sip. i promise. nothin’ more.”

and of course you cave. how could you not when he’s looking at you expectantly with those pretty hazel eyes you adore so much?

and the moment you hand him the drink half the liquid is gone. his lips wrap around the straw, practically inhaling the fucking thing. your face contorts, something in between shock and annoyance as he hands you back the now mostly empty cup.

“tastes like shit,” he remarks, tucking you under his arm.

love this man to death, idk how naughty dog makes pixels this attractive<33 would gladly share all my food with him and more

#joelmiller #thelastofus #game joel miller #naughty dog #love this man to the moon and to saturn #this is gonna be seen by three people but idc #love this man unconditionally #joel miller hcs #headcanons #pixel joel

[poseidonsdaughterthesiren]

You're Losing–You Lost Me

A/N: So uhhh this experiemental. I'm trying to create Della and Luke's past. So obviously for my nonbooker readers...Spoilers. Ummm So we drift from Della to Percy to Luke's POVS and they're not all linear. Think of them as if you're sporadically going through memories.

Della sits by the lake as fireworks and torches flicker across the waves. In the distance, she hears a splash of water. Clarisse and a bunch of other campers toss her brother and her best friend into the lake. 

It’s about dam time he told her. 

Della smiles but it crumbles when she thinks about what she’s been through the last year and a half.  Her memories had recently all been fixed thanks to the Hypnos kid Clovis. She takes a deep breath…and meditates for a moment

⬳

Della opened her eyes to a dimly lit room. She tried to yell for help but realized her mouth was gagged.

Where is she? How did–the battle with the manticore, Dr. Thorn came rushing back to her. She and Annabeth tackled the beast as it fell over the cliff. Shit, Percy was going to kill her–if whoever captured her didn’t first.

“Well, well if it isn’t Della Jackson,” a voice called

Della stilled at the voice. She knew that voice. Luke. 

Luke creeped out of the shadows into the light. He smiled but it made Della flinch in terror. 

He looked pretty beat up. Good. 

Luke crouched down in front of Della. 

Della tried to scoot back from him but didn’t get very far. The rope around her ankles and wrists was also bound to a pillar. 

“Hey,” he whispered, I won’t hurt you. Trust me.” 

Della narrowed her eyes at him. 

Luke moved forward and reached behind her head. He undid the knot holding her gag and removed it. 

Della tried to scream but Luke placed a hand over her mouth. 

“Hey, no, come on now, none of that,” he whispered, “Besides no one will be able to hear you.” 

Della leaned back and glared at him. 

“Where am I?”

“Safe,” Luke said.

“Pfft, not with you I’m not.” 

“Del–”

“No, only my friends call me Del.”

“We are friends–”

“We were, past tense.”

Luke grinned at her. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. 

“My offer still stands Del, you can be more–”

“No, no this isn’t you.” 

“Still don’t have your own opinion, still emersed in everything Percy believes.”

Luke leaned over maneuvered her ropes and pulled her towards him. He lifted her up and led her towards the darkness he emerged from.

“Come on,” he whispered in her ear, “time to see what we’ve been working on.”

Della felt shivers run down her spine. She hoped Percy would find her soon. 

⬳

Della and Annabeth were gone. They fell with the manticore–the only thing left of Della was Leda. Mom is going to kill him. 

Percy paced around as his thoughts tortured him. It had always been his job to protect her, and he failed. 

“Percy,” Grover said. He placed a hand on Percy’s shoulder. 

Percy shrugged the hand off. 

Thalia was pissed. She white-knuckled Annabeth’s Yankees cap.

“Percy, I’m sorry–” 

“No,” he snapped, “Don’t say you’re sorry for my loss. They’re not–She’s not dead.” 

“Percy,”  Grover said. There were tears in his eyes. “There’s no way they survived that and if they did, Luke–”

“No, they’re alive, I can feel it! They…can’t…she can’t be gone.” A tear escaped from his eye. 

No Della was alive. He couldn’t explain it–but he could feel it like a thread connecting them. And if Del was alive so was Annabeth.

“Percy Jackson,” Zoe Nightshade called, “Come with me Lady Artemis wishes to speak with thee.” 

⬳

Luke leads Della up a dark hill. There was little to no light. It was black but there were whisps of blue light. Black charred ruins are scattered almost as if there had once been a battle here. 

Della felt like she was in a demonic episode of Scooby Doo. Doesn’t help that Luke led her on a rope like a dog. Bet Scooby never used a leash. 

Luke paused near the crest of the hill. He turned toward her. 

“What I am about to show you,” he said, “Is your fate if you don’t cooperate.” 

His face twitched and sniffed almost as if he were about to cry but he stopped himself. He turned back toward the hill and pulled her rope hard. 

Della glanced around when she felt the air leave her lungs–at the top of the hill was Annabeth holding up what appeared to be an invisible ceiling. 

“Annabeth!” Della screamed. 

Luke yanked her rope and pulled her against him. He used his free hand to angle her head at the sight. 

Della closed her eyes as Annabeth screamed for her. 

“See that could be you,” he whispered, “but I think I have better use for you.”

Della choked back a sob refusing to open her eyes. 

“Della,” Annabeth groaned, “No let her…go” 

“Say bye to Annabeth, Del,” Luke said, “We’ll see her later.” 

“NO! ANNABETH!” Della yelled. She struggled against Luke. 

“Aww,” Luke cooed, “come on Siren, we have more work to do.”

Della screamed as he picked her up and led her away from Annabeth. 

“LUKE! LUKE!” Annabeth shrieked. 

Della sobbed as Luke dragged her away from her best friend. She felt spots flood her vision before everything went dark.

⬳

` Percy sulked into his cabin and threw himself on his bed. He rolled onto his side to stare at Della’s empty bunk. Nestled in her blankets was a plush blue whale who’d seen better days. Mr. Finn. Della’s favorite stuffed animal. 

How could Mr. D refuse to search for her or Annabeth? 

Percy sighed slipped out of his bunk and grabbed ahold of the whale. Its big black button eyes stared up at Percy. He pulled it close to his chest and squeezed. After a moment he placed him in his bunk. 

He heard water running. He looked around before in the back of the cabin he spotted a new item. A fountain–obviously a gift from Poseidon. 

Percy made his way to it and noticed it was heated as it created a mist with tiny little rainbows. He looked at the bottom to see it was full of drachmas. He realized what this was for. It was a reminder to keep in touch with his family. 

Percy scooped a coin out and ran his fingers along it. 

“Iris, oh Goddess of the Rainbow,” he said, “please accept my offering.” 

He knew he should call mom and tell her what happened, but he wasn’t ready for that yet. Until he knew more about where she was he was going to hold off telling Mom. 

He could call Dad, he hadn’t talked to him in two years. But could you call a god or would that be an insult? Besides, he had a feeling Poseidon knew about what had occurred only a few hours ago. Hopefully, if she asked for help Dad would be there.

He suddenly knew exactly who to call. 

“Show me Tyson,” Percy said, “At the forges of the Cyclops.” 

The mist shimmered to show his half-brother Tyson surrounded by fire. Tyson was bent on an anvil, hammering a red-hot sword blade. There was a marble-framed window behind him, and it looked out onto dark blue water–the bottom of the ocean.

“Tyson,” Percy yelled. 

He didn’t hear Percy at first due to the hammering and roar of the flames. 

“TYSON!” Percy yelled again. 

He turned his one enormous eye brightened. His face broke into a crooked yellow grin. “Percy!” 

He dropped the sword blade and barrelled at Percy trying to hug him. Percy lurched back. “Hey, Big Guy, this is an Iris message, I’m not really there.” 

“Oh, yes I knew that,” Tyson said. He seemed embarrassed for a moment. He then looked around Percy. “Where’s Della?” 

Percy’s smile faded. “She’s not here right now buddy.” 

“Oh, tell her I say hi! Tell Annabeth I say hi!” 

“Okay, Buddy will do,” Percy swallows the lump in his throat. “Hey Tyson, do you hear from Dad?” 

Tyson’s smile fell a bit. “Not much. Daddy is busy. He is worried about the war.”

“What do you mean?” 

Tyson sighed and placed the sword out the window, where it erupted in a swirl of bubbles. When he brought the blade back in the metal was cool and silver. 

“Old Sea Spirits making trouble. Aigaios. Oceanus. Those guys. They’re protecting the bad boat.” 

“The Princess Andromeda? Luke’s boat?” Percy asked. 

“Yes. They make it hard to find. Protect it from Daddy’s storms. Otherwise, he would smash it.” 

“Smashing it would be good,” Percy agree. 

Just not with Della or Annabeth on board. 

“Yeah. Don’t worry about bad boat. It is going away.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Panama Canal. Very far away.” 

Why was Luke all the way down there? Last theyd seen he’d been near the East Coast recruiting demigods with grievances against their godly parents. 

“Well that’s good I guess. Hey tell Dad I–” 

Before he could finish the message dissolved leaving him alone in the cabin again. Percy sighed and shuffled back to his bunk. 

He slipped under the covers and held Mr. Finn close. 

“Where are you Del?” He whispered before drifting off. 

⬳

Della opened her eyes to see she was nestled in a makeshift cot. She was wrapped in a thick blanket. She glanced around to see she was in a dimly lit room. Not like the apocalypse she’d been in earlier. 

There was the cot she was in. A small chestnut drawer, a desk, and the door. Whoever’s room this was they were a very extreme minimalist. 

She sat up and stretched when she realized her hands were untied. She froze–where’s Luke?

The handle of the door jiggled and opened into the room. Revealing the man in question. 

Luke closes the door behind him. And tosses a map on the desk before he turns to Della. 

“Oh, good,” he said, “You’re awake.” He sat at the end of the bed. 

Della examined his face. He looked like he’d aged ten years since the last time they’d seen each other. There were heavy streaks of grey Della could hardly see his black hair. 

Luke’s eyes were examining her.. 

“What happened?” She asked. She glanced down at the floor. 

“You blacked out,” he said as if it were obvious.

“Doesn’t explain why I’m in your room.” 

“You really don’t get it?”

Della glanced up at him. Her eyes narrowed. 

“You’re here,” Luke said, “Because you’re the key to winning this damn thing!”

“What do mean I’m the key?” Della yelled at him. “I thought Percy was your Golden Boy.” 

“It has become quite clear your brother will not join me, but you,” Luke said. He reached out to touch her cheek. “You could counter the prophecy. You could be mine.”

Della flinched at the contact. 

“A half-blood of the eldest gods

Shall reach sixteen against all odds

And see the world in endless sleep

The hero’s soul, cursed blade shall reap–” 

“A single choice shall end his days. Olympus to preserve or raze,” Della finished. “I know but what that’s between you and Percy–”

“It would seem the fates have made it so, but with you by my side, it’d be an equal fight. Come on Del, I’ve seen how Percy treats you on quests.” 

“First,” Della said, “Quit calling me Del. Second, I’d never betray my brother. And Third, my brother loves me.” 

“Does he Della? I remember the last time I saw you two he treated you worse than the Cyclops.” 

Della looked down at her shoes. He had a point even on this last mission Percy had been a dick to her. 

Luke tucks a finger under her chin and makes her look at him. 

“It’d be you and I against the world.” 

Della doesn’t pull away this time. She’d always been attracted to Luke. The two of them against the world didn’t sound too bad. 

A loud ruckus stomped above them. Luke pulled back and growled in frustration. He then looks back at Della. “I’ll be back. There’s tea on the desk. He moved towards the door which clicked shut behind him.

Della sat up and on shaky feet grabbed the tea cup. She hobbled back into the cot pulled the blankets up to her chest and sipped her tea. 

What if she stayed? Switched teams. Maybe then people wouldn't doubt her ability. They’d always compare her to Percy she’d always known that. She’d finally get to be with Luke–then she thought about Annabeth in the invisible cavern–no she would never stay with him. 

The door opened again to reveal Luke. He didn’t look as pissed, but he certainly wasn’t pleased. “Change of plans I have a meeting to attend. But I’ll be back soon.” 

“Where–” 

“Doesn’t matter, but you’re going to stay here aboard the ship.” 

So she’s on the Princess Andromeda….her mind went fuzzy fast. Luke was just a blur when he left. 

“I’ll be back I promise Del.” 

⬳

“I should throw you in the pits of Tartarus for your incompetence,” the General said, “I told you to bring me the boy, not the scrawny Athena girl.” 

“But,” Thorn sputtered, “I brought you one of the Big Three’s children! I brought you the Daughter of Poseidon!”

“Hmmm,” the General nodded, “She may be useful…but right now she’s a prize to you Boy.” He looked straight at Luke. 

Percy felt his heart thrum in his chest. The girls were alive. What did he mean Della was a prize to Luke? 

He’d missed bits of the conversation when–

“Della will serve her purpose in time,” Luke said, “It just needs some pushing.” 

What the hell? I mean yeah Della was his twin but the prophecy referred to him–or at least they’d always assumed it was him–what was Luke doing to her? 

⬳

“Della, hey come on now Del,” a voice sighed. 

Della is met with the sight of Luke bending over worry evident on his face. 

He smiled a bit at her. “Hey Sleeping Beauty,” he cooed. 

Della grinned in response but then realized she didn’t remember falling asleep. “What time is it? I thought you just left–wait I’ve been asleep–what’ve you–” 

Luke’s face fell a bit as he tried to calm her. He pulled into him, 

“It’s okay, Della–hey it’s okay–”

“No!” she yelled. She pushed against him.  “What have you been doing–” 

Luke sighed he grabbed a bowl and passed it to her. 

“What is this?” 

“Oatmeal.”

“Is this magic oatmeal?”

“It’s apple-cinnamon.”

Della sniffed it and indeed it was apple-cinnamon oatmeal. She takes the spoon from Luke and eats a couple of spoonfuls. 

“There you go,” Luke said. He ran a hand through her hair. 

Whatever anger Della felt vanished. She couldn’t even remember why she was mad. She set the bowl down. 

“There you go Della,” Luke whispered. He took the bowl placed it on the floor and tugged her close to his chest. “I love you,” he murmured. 

⬳

“Ah, how touching,” A voice said. 

The group turned to see the General standing there in his brown silk suit. At his side was Luke and half a dozen dracaene bearing the sarcophagus of Kronos. Annabeth stood at Luke’s side. Her hands were cuffed behind her back, a gag in her mouth, Luke held the point of his sword to her throat. 

Percy met her eyes seeking answers. The only message was clear RUN!

“Luke let her go,” Thalia growled. 

“That’s for the General to decide,” Luke smirked, “But it is good to see you again though Thalia.” 

Thalia spat at him.

Percy whipped his around and realized someone was missing. 

“Where’s Della? Where is my sister?” He yelled. 

A tear escaped Annabeth’s eye. 

“Where is she?!” 

Luke’s smirk disappeared a single tear dripped down his cheek. 

The General however laughed. “She’s alive Son of Poseidon, for now. 

More tears sprung from Annabeth’s eyes she shook in Luke’s grip. 

Anger bubbled in Percy’s veins and he unleashed Riptide. 

⬳

Luke looked over the railing at the sea. They were just a bit away from the camp’s borders. He stretched and felt his back protest. He sighed, fighting Thalia was not easy to come back from. But the plan had to go. The concoction of poppy seeds and a drip of Lethe to keep Della here worked too well. He knew she liked him but–he didn’t think he’d catch feelings for her. He has to get her out of here before Kronos makes him do something awful–or even worse kill her. 

He went below deck and opened the door to his room to see her asleep just as he’d left her. Luke picks her up bridal-style. He carries her up to the deck. 

He drops her into the water and watches as she sinks. The Old Sea Gods push her back into Poseidon’s territory. 

⬳

When Della came to she was no longer in Luke’s room, no instead she was–well–she had no idea where she was. 

She was situated in an actual bed, not a cot. The room reminded her of the cabin her mom rented every year. The room was in natural beach tones. She could see a window encrusted with sea glass that looked out into blue water–wait blue water? 

Della sat up and slid out of the bed. The floor was freezing but she didn’t care. She was almost positive she was close to her Dad or at the very least Percy. She stumbled for a moment not used to being on her feet. 

There were two double doors a few feet away. Della grabbed a handle and bolted from the room. 

The hallway was fancier than her room, but the architecture told her all she needed to know–she was at her Dad’s place.

Two mermaids spotted her and gasped. 

“Miss Della you should be in bed,” one of them chastised. She had a shimmering pink tail. 

“I’ll go inform Poseidon,” the other said. Her tail was multicolored like the rainbow fish book. 

Rainbow Fish swished back down the hall they’d come from. 

Pink Tail swam towards Della and placed a hand on her forehead. 

“Well, you definitely look better,” she said. “You looked like death when the patrol found you.” 

“What do you–”

“DELLA!” a familiar voice boomed. 

“Tyson?” Della asked. 

The Cyclops tackled her in a giant bear hug. 

“Wait till Percy hears you’re okay! He’s been worried.”

Della hugs her half-brother back.

Percy’s been worried about her? 

“He was so sad when they didn’t find you!” 

“Alright Tyson,” Let her breathe there Kiddo.” A masculine voice laughed. 

“Dad?” Della breathed. 

Tyson let go of her. And moved out of the way. 

At the end of the hallways stood her father Poseidon. He looked similar to the last time she’d seen him. Same fisherman’s getup, the same beard, the same everything really–except now he looked incredibly exhausted. 

She moved towards him but stopped just a few feet in front of him. She didn’t really know what to say to him. 

“Hello, Della,” He smiled. He and Percy shared the same smile. “You’ve been so brave.” 

“Not that I’m not happy to see you but why am I here? I don’t remember–”

Poseidon’s smile fell. “There is much to discuss but you need to get home to your mother and brother.” 

“But–”

“I am very proud of you Della,” Poseidon said. He pulled her into a hug. This was the first hug she’d ever had with her dad. He held her similar to Mom–a hand at the back of her head and the other between her shoulder blades. 

“Never forget little Siren, you are my daughter, not just Percy’s sister.” 

⬳

“The sword, Della,” Annabeth muttered, “Your sword…Hero…cursed blade…” 

Della and Percy looked at each other. Percy nodded at her. 

Della looked at Luke his lip trembled. 

“Del…please…I’ll be good I promise…” 

Della felt tears stream down her face. 

She raised her sword but then she looked back at Percy. 

“Together,” she said. 

“Together,” he said. 

They passed the blade to Luke together. 

Luke without hesitation snatched Leda and he undid his chest plate. He aimed Della’s sword under his left arm and he stabbed himself. 

Leda, Della’s sword clattered to the ground as Luke fell backward. 

Della caught him before his head could hit the hearth. She cradled his head in her lap. 

“Del…” 

“Hey, no none of that,” Della whispered.

Annabeth, Grover, and Percy surround them. They crouch over the pair. 

“I–I’m sorry Beth…” 

“Shh, you were a hero at the end, you’ll go to Elysium.” 

“Did you love me?” he asked looking at Annabeth. 

“At one time but…you were always a brother to me.” 

He nodded and coughed red painted his lips. His eyes gazed up at Della. 

“Del, no matter how much I hurt you…I want you to know I meant it when I said…I love you.” 

Della’s tears cascaded on his brow. She leaned over and kissed his brow. 

“It’s okay…” he said, “it doesn’t hurt.” 

“Luke I love you.” 

He smiled up at her. His eyes went to Percy. Luke brought himself up a smidge and gripped Percy’s sleeve. 

“Ethan. Me. The other unclaimed, don’t let it happen again.” 

“I won’t I promise,” Percy said. 

“Good,” Luke breathed. He fell back into Della’s lap and his hand went slack. 

Della choked on a sob. Grover closed Luke’s unseeing eyes. Annabeth clutched onto Percy’s shoulder. 

“Percy…Della,” Their dad called, awe in his voice, “what…what is this?” 

Percy turned and faced the Olympians. 

“We need a shroud,” he announced, his voice cracked. “We need a shroud for the Son of Hermes.” 

Della tried not to scream. 

#oc character #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #percyjacksonxsister!reader #fanfic #heroes of olympus #percy and annabeth #luke castellan x reader #della jackson

[jungle-angel]

The One With The Screen Door (Rhett Abbott x Reader)

Summary: Clearly it’s time for a new screen door and Rhett’s paying for it

Rhett poured the last contents of the coffee pot into his mug, still in disbelief at how fucking hot it was outside. School had let out in mid May which meant that the ghouls were all home from school and out to cause as much trouble as they possibly could. 

It was only seven-thirty in the morning but Amy and Hannah had both gotten on their bikes and were heading over the hill to Wes and Nora’s to play with Danny and Bear while Tatum and Tanner had been turned loose after they came barreling into your room and had jumped on your bed to wake Rhett up. Kaya was still asleep in her crib in the nursery and wouldn’t wake up until at least eight, but Rhett was grateful that the boys could run wild for a little while. 

He glanced at the chore list posted on the fridge, not wanting to do any of it on such a glorious Saturday, wanting nothing more than to go on a woods walk with you and the kids. The last thing he wanted to do was give Diesel his worm pills or go run errands for Royal. 

“Mornin handsome,” you purred, kissing the bare skin on his shoulders. 

“Mornin sunshine,” Rhett chuckled, his hands moving over yours as you coiled your arms around his waist. 

“Anything on the agenda for today?” 

Rhett sighed. “Gotta give the dog that medicine to get rid of the heartworms,” he yawned.

“Poor Diesel,” you said. “Ten more days and he’s done with the meds.” 

“Thank God,” Rhett replied. “How’s baby girl upstairs?” 

“She’s just waking up.” 

Rhett set his coffee down and headed upstairs to Kaya’s room and sure enough, there she was, the pink cheeked, blue eyed little baby who laughed and wriggled in her little pink blanket. 

“Mornin princess,” Rhett cooed as he lifted her out of her crib, kissing her soft little cheeks, making her laugh even more. “You must’ve slept real good last night.” 

He brought her right back downstairs to the kitchen where you were enjoying your coffee, your face lighting up at the sight of your baby girl in Rhett’s arms. “God I wish they could stay this cute,” Rhett remarked. “Don’t get me wrong....” 

“Rhett I know what you mean,” you told him as you moved to the couch in the living room and unbuttoned your shirt so Kaya could feed. 

“Guess I better go and start those truck repairs,” Rhett sighed. “Otherwise I’ll never hear the end of it from Perry.” 

“Good luck,” you chuckled. “Because Monday, this one has a doctor’s appointment.” 

Rhett groaned a little as he tried to finish his coffee. All of a sudden, there came a series of excited yells before a loud *CRASH!* and a *THUD!* reached your ears. 

“Hey!” Rhett bellowed. “What the fuck was that all about?!” 

“Rhett! Little ears,” you reminded him. 

Rhett helped Tatum up off the floor, standing him right up on his feet. “First of all,” he said sternly. “Are you ok?” 

“My head hurts,” Tatum answered, rubbing his head. 

“Where’s your brother?” Rhett asked him. 

Rhett’s head turned towards the now ruined screen door to find Tanner slinking away from the door and trying to hide behind the porch rocker. “I see you Tanner James,” Rhett warned him. “Get over here.” 

Tanner meekly joined his brother, the two of them with their hands behind their backs and feeling the full intense gaze of their father. 

“Ya’ll are in big trouble,” Rhett told them. 

The boys cast their faces down at their feet. 

“That’s the ninth time this year I’ve had to fix the screen because of you two little ghouls,” Rhett told them. “Ya’ll go get your crappy clothes on. Your punishment for this one is that you’re gonna help Papa fix the fence and shovel the cow shit outta the barn. Now go, upstairs, move.” 

Tatum and Tanner hurriedly rushed upstairs while Rhett ran his hands over his face. “I love my boys.....I love my boys....I love my boys....” 

“Rhett,” you chuckled.

“I mean it (y/n),” Rhett told you. “I love’em to death, but they’re gonna be the death of me.” 

Royal opened the screen door a second later, making a face at the now giant hole that had formed when Tatum ran into it. “What the fuck did your little headcases do?” Royal laughed. 

“They ate shit on the screen door Dad,” Rhett answered. “The hell do you think they did?” 

Royal laughed and shook his head. “Bring’em on down,” Royal said. “Russ, Patrick and I will put’em to work.” 

“Go easy on’em Royal, they’re only four,” you told your father-in-law. 

“Which reminds me,” Royal said, looking right at Rhett. “Ya’ll gotta pay up.” 

“For the screen?!” Rhett blurted out. 

“Perry’s already out four hundred for truck parts,” Royal informed him. “I think I gouged him enough.” 

Rhett rolled his eyes and drew out forty dollars for a new roll of screen before going upstairs to wrangle the twins. As soon as you had finished feeding Kaya, you handed her right off to Royal. No sooner did Royal have Kaya than he noticed the laughing look on your face. 

“What?” he asked. “(Y/n), what the hell is it?” 

“Pretty sure Perry and Rhett did the same thing when they were their age, didn’t they?” 

“Hey, I ain’t sayin anything,” Royal insisted. “Ya’ll ask Cecelia about that one.” 

You laughed, knowing you would have to later. 

#outer range #rhett abbott #rhett abbott x reader #lewis pullman #lewis pullman x reader