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#holy shit what happened to queue

guiltyidealist · 2 years

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Fun fact. I was scrolling through my queue and found this, which I had completely forgotten about even writing:

I don’t know when I queued this but it was definitely before the shooting in Uvalde.

#i don't know it really caught me off guard when i saw it in my queue #i was like. holy shit.#holy shit i really had no idea what was going to happen whenever i wrote that.#i don't know

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malka-lisitsa · 1 year

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Continued from [ X ] @gunchamber the world is not ready

A few beers, or even a few six packs isn't enough to make Katherine feel much, but it was enough to take the edge off her anxiety, keep her heart rate even. Keep her from jumping at any small noise from beyond the outside door. Shes returned to a normal state of low grade paranoia, her resting state if you will.

Krissy is a wonderful distraction, shes charismatic, and trained well enough that she gives the vampire a sense of security despite knowing that should Klaus ever show up Krissy wouldnt last more than a second. Strange. Maybe it was more her presence as a person that brought a little comfort to the doppelganger. She can't quite figure out what it is that's drawn her to Krissy, in general, but more so in this moment where she chased her steps to the kitchen. Katherine sure as shit wasn't helping her clean up. So why did she suddenly feel the urge to corner her? What had she noticed without realizing?

Then she spots it. Katherine picks up details she doesn't even notice she picked up, it's part of her PTSD. In this instance its a deep scar she'd caught sight of that had intrigued her. Katherine understands now why she's drawn to this girl.

Her touch surprisingly gentle as she reaches out, tracing the battle scar, almost like trying to replace the touch that made it. Or perhaps shes asking the scar it's story, reading it like brail. So this is what it was. This was the secret draw that pulled the doppelganger to this moment. It's not so much the scar itself, but the way Krissy spoke of it as if it were little more than a scratch from an angry cat. No it's not the scar, its the mark of a survivor.

She hasn't spoken yet, she hasn't needed to, Krissy is speaking more than enough. In this moment, it's Katherine's turn to listen not speak. She makes a crack about being tough, and the glance at Katherine's lips had not gone unnoticed. Slowly, gently, the hand that had traced the scar rose and Katherine took a step forward with a smirk.

Fingers brushed dark locks from the pale skin of the hunters neck. All of her movements slow, deliberately providing ample time for denial, as she leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to the skin. A wordless question.

Krissy had stated the most important part of Katherine's proposition, had been that she A S K E D and so the vampire elected to keep that trust in this moment where it mattered most.

#thread: gunchamber #gunchamber #holy shit this moment is so weirdly intimate #WHAT IS HAPPENING #verse: tbd #i was gonna queue this but im too excited

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sm8th0p · 1 year

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date - simon “ghost” riley x medic!reader

a/n: you have no idea how much I LOVE medic!reader so this is my spin on it 🕺🕺🕺 and like private but not secret relationship with simon holy shit I live for that shit

desc: poor guy unknowingly hitting on the lieutenant’s lovely wife

warnings: descriptions of wound/gash, slight foul language

You were nose deep in your paperwork when the doors to your office opened, making you whip your head to look at the intrusion. You body relaxed at the sight of Ghost and Soap, casually walking to your desk. Tilting your head a bit, not noticing that either of them were injured so it confused you why they were visiting the medbay.

“Is everything alright?” You asked, looking up from your seated position to look at your behemoth of a husband. “Yeah. Jus’ wanted to see you.” He said softly, palms on the desk and slightly leaning over it. “And what’s Soap doing here?” You tilted your head to see the man behind the lieutenant, busy with his phone. Ghost crossed his arms and you could feel his annoyance radiating off his stance from the corner of your eye.

“Aye, doc.” Soap greeted you as he lifted his gaze from his phone. “I’m just tagging along, got some questions to ask L.t.”

“Should’ve asked during the damn briefing.” He said, tilted his head a bit to glare at the sergeant. You knew how much your husband hated it when people interrupt the times you guys were together, since the chance to spend time with just you were rare in the chaos that happened everyday in the base. Sometimes you were confused if he was annoyed or jealoused.

“I forgot, alright..” Soap pursed his lips and scooted away a bit, to give you and Ghost some privacy. Not a lot of people knew about your marriage with Ghost, but they know you were married by the beautiful ring on your ring finger. Only the task force knew and over time, they learned the silent queues to give the both of you some space and you were incredibly grateful for that.

Ghost placed his left palm on the table and leaned in slightly, eyes laser focused on your face. “What is it, Si?” Your tone was heavy with exhaustion as Ghost looked down at you, and you could see his eyebrows furrowed a bit under the balaclava he wore.

“Your shift ends in a bit, right?” He brought a hand to gently cup your jaw. You nodded. “I want to take you out for dinner. You need a break, love.” He said, voice hushed as he took in your tired eyes. There was a moment of silence as you lowered you gaze to the papers on your table, before looking back at him.

“Is Soap coming along too?” You teased, fighting a smile. “God no.” He replied right after the words left your mouth. You laughed before continuing, “It’s a date then.” A grin formed on your lips. “It is.” You felt his warm lips over the mask as he kissed your forehead, before joining Soap to sit in one of the empty patient rooms to wait for you. The door to the room was open, so you could hear a faint conversation and Soap’s laugh while you continued your paperwork.

Not five minutes later, the doors to the medbay opened again and a soldier walked in, clutching his hand. You looked up from the paperwork and your eyes widened slightly at the blood on his hands. “What happened?” You immediately stood up and walked over to him, guiding him to sit in an empty room right beside your husband’s.

“Accidentally cut my hand open while working in the garage. It’s not as bad as it looks.” You were sitting in front of him, his palm in your hands as you carefully inspect the gash. Your eyebrows furrowed at how calm and nonchalant his tone was, so you looked up from his palm to see he was slightly smiling at you.

“You look oddly happy for a person with a bloody hand.” You quipped before turning around, collecting a few items from the cabinet behind where you sat. The man looked down and laughed, and you could hear how- bashful it sounded. “I feel fine, doc. Like I said, it doesn’t hurt as bad.” He replied, and you can hear a hint of smug in his voice.

You playfully shook your head at him as you sat back down. The fact that he wasn’t brooding over the injury really calmed the tension, but you couldn’t help but feel a bit off. “Thankfully the cut wasn’t that deep, so you don’t need stitches. A few bandages will do.” He nodded, but you felt his gaze on you.

You shifted in your seat, ripping open an antiseptic wipe to clean the wound. “This is going to sting a bit.” You said as you held the wipe.

“Don’t worry, I can handle it.” The way he tried to sound cool had you cringing. The second you place down the wipe on the wound, you heard a faint hiss and you let out a huff that resembled a laugh. “You can, huh?” You met his gaze and he avoided it by looking to the side with an embarrassed grin.

A few moments of silence later, the soldier spoke up. “Say, doc,” You hummed, focused on throwing away the wipe once you were done sterilising the wound.

“What would you say if I uh- if someone asked you out? Asking for a friend.”

Your face was out of his sight since you were looking down on his palm, so he didn’t see you blinked slowly as you figured out why he was trying so hard to impress you. Suddenly you were aware that the chatter in the next room had gone silent, and you just knew that they were listening.

You looked up to see a faint red hue on his cheeks, and you couldn’t help but let out another huff of laughter at the sight. “Did you purposefully got this wound to see me for that?” You asked jokingly as you started to wrap his palm in gauze. “Woah, no. ..but I would, if it meant I could see you again.” People asking you out wasn’t something uncommon to you, but his confidence baffled you in a way. If only he knew who you were married to.

You decided to play along, curious to know where this would lead. “Does this friend of yours.. know that I’m married? I don’t keep it a secret, you know.” You said as you raised your hand to show an outline of a ring beneath the latex gloves. He didn’t say anything for a bit, eyes focused on the ring as he kissed his teeth.

“But your husband is not here, is he? A pretty girl like you deserves to be treated somewhere nice, doc. I can take you out, tonight.” He uttered.

You felt your eye twitch and heard the chairs in the next room scraped against the floor. You tugged a bit on the gauze, making sure it’s secure. At this point you were almost done with him, so you look up to meet his gaze, but what you saw behind him made the excitement in your body skyrocket.

Thank god his back was facing the doorway, because there stood Ghost, arms menacingly crossed across his broad chest, leaning on the doorframe. Soap was beside him, his phone out and presumably recording the unfortunate moment. He even had a palm over his mouth desperately trying to supress his laughter.

An idea sparked in your head, you pursed your lips in a thin line and looked down for a bit, before meeting the soldier’s eyes again. “You think I’m pretty?” You replied in a low tone. God, you felt the goosebumps travelling all over your back, cringing so, so hard. He nodded eagerly and muttered, “So pretty.”

“…Thank you, but I don’t know.. I already have a date tonight.” You feigned innocence and tilted your head. “Really?,” he scoffed. Judging from his reaction, you assumed he thought that another soldier at the base already asked you out. Well, he was right. “Who’s the lucky fella? Is it the new private?” You playfully shrugged. “It’s him, right? he told me you rejected him..”

A bubble of laughter erupted from your stomach, both from his reply and the way Ghost stood behind him. Ghost knew well how much you liked to tease him and he’s fighting the urge to just grab the soldier and punch a hole into his goddamn face. The soldier furrowed his eyebrows, lips tugged in a confused half-smile.

“No, no not with the private. With my husband, actually. Isn’t that right, honey?”

Your gaze now landed on the figure behind the soldier, and he turned around quickly and looked up to meet Ghost’s blood curdling glare. “..L-lieutenant,” He greeted in a mix of respect and pure horror. More of the latter.

You knew Soap’s phone got a crystal clear view of the colours draining out of the poor soldier’s face, making a mental note to watch it later. His eyes widened and you could see how frigid his body had turned as Ghost walked over to your side.

“That’s right. In fact, I think we might be late for the reservation. You’re almost done, love?” He said softly to you, before enunciating the last word while looking straight into the soldier’s soul. His adam’s apple shifted as he gulped down the terror.

You nodded cheerily, releasing the soldier’s bandaged hand before standing up and walking over to the doorframe. “Alright, my nurse will inform you how to take care of the wound. It will take about a week to fully heal, so be careful. Take care, soldier.” You said with a bubbly tone before exciting the room to get ready to end your shift.

Now he was alone with the lieutenant in the room, minus the borderline-laughing sergeant behind the doorframe. Ghost said nothing as he continued to glare fucking daggers into the soldier and seeing him squirm in the seat, waiting for the nurse. He felt cold sweat run down his spine, eyes wide and trying hard to not look at the lieutenant’s gaze. The pure awkwardness and realisation of ‘I just hit on the lieutenant’s WIFE’ made him wanted to faint.

The tension was soon cut through like a knife by Ghost himself, his deep voice bouncing off the walls. “Rest up, soldier. You have a long day tomorrow.” He said sternly as he left the room. As if he took the pressure out with him, the soldier finally let out a deep breath that he didn’t realise he was holding.

A faint “beep” and a laughter was heard outside of the door, making the scared-shitless soldier turn around in his seat. Soap peeked his head and looked at him, a grin on his face. “You fucked up, lad. Better warn the private too, if I was ya’. An’ your whole squad. Best of luck.” He spoke in amusement before walking off to find you and Ghost and letting the soldier drown in his shithole of despair.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #call of duty #cod #cod mw2 #cod mw2 fanfic #medic!reader #ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon riley #soap mw2 #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley x medic!reader

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l0velysmut · 1 month

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neteyam x fem!reader x aonung

contains: PURE FILTH!!!! poly relationship, dom!aonung, sub!neteyam, switch!reader, na’vi!reader, oral (neteyam + reader receiving), guided oral, dirty talk, p in v, creampie, cum eating, voyeurism ???, brief hand job, use of Y/N. i think that’s it.

na’vi words: kelku = home , muntxate = wife , muntxatan = husband , yawne = beloved , kuru = neural queue.

wc: 2.8k (holy shit) unedited

a/n: i wrote this while on cloud 9 😭 idk what was going thru my head, my fingers were just typing and now we have this.

“C’mon, be a good girl for me.” Aonung whispered into your ear as Aonung took hold on Neteyams throbbing cock, slapping the tip of his dick on your tongue gently. Even though Neteyam was the one standing up with both you and Aonung on your knees before him, you and Neteyam both knew very well that Aonung was still in charge. He almost always was.

You glance over at Aonung and see him staring at Neteyams tip which rested on your tongue, and you widen your mouth, taking Neteyam’s leaking tip into your mouth. Neteyam exhaled shakily, and Aonung “comforted” him shortly by rubbing his thigh whilst his other hand rested on the back of your head, pressing against the base of your kuru.

Aonung pushes your head further down Neteyams cock, forcing you to take his entire length into your mouth until you gagged. Aonung watched closely in delight as your eyes welled with tears, and he leaned in and pressed a kiss to your temple, gripping your head tighter so that he could easily push your head back and forth on Neteyam’s cock.

Neteyam looked up at the ceiling of the kelku he and Aonung built together for the three of you with his hands behind his back, trying his best not to cum. He didn’t want to look down because he knew he would cum in an instant at the sight of you, but he also couldn’t handle it if Aonung happened to look up at him with that menacing glare. Aonung took away his privilege of making any noises — this was his punishment for being a brat for the whole day, although at first glance it would’ve seemed like you were being punished from the way Aonung bobbed your head back and forth on Neteyam’s cock roughly.

But no matter how rough Aonung was, he always praised you two unlike Neteyam who only got rough when he was mad and when he got mad, he tended to say mean and harsh things without thinking.

You gag on Neteyam’s cock, trying your best to inhale through your nose as Aonung forced your head. You started slobbering all over the poor man’s dick in such a short time, and you moaned before swallowing to envelop Neteyams cock tighter in your throat.

Neteyam bit his lip as hard as he could to hold back the noises that threatened to spill without permission, drawing a small amount of blood in the process. He huffed and took deep inhales and exhales, trying to calm himself down, but he mindlessly abandoned his past thoughts for a second and accidentally looked down at the sight below him.

He saw you with your hands on both of his thighs, gripping his plush flesh as you gulped and gagged on his cock, looking up at him with hazy eyes that were glossed over with lust. He also saw Aonung staring at the way you sucked his cock intensely, praising you and talking you through it.

“Good girl, Ma’Muntxate. Sucking his cock so well even though he doesn’t deserve it.” Aonung says to you, reaching his free hand down between your thighs, smirking at how wet you were then looking up at Neteyam who stared down with wide eyes.

Aonung stared into Neteyam’s eyes, giving a mocking pout which caused Neteyam to look away and stare at you instead.

You really were stuck in your own world as you slurped his cock down your throat. You seemed to be enjoying yourself, whimpering and whining around his cock as Aonungs fingers toyed with your clit, rolling it between his fingers and pinching whenever you gagged.

“Aonung- Sir! I’m gonna…” Neteyam whined out, beginning to get fidgety as he felt his orgasm approaching, the heat in his lower abdomen growing more and more.

Aonung pulled your head off Neteyam’s cock, causing a surprised choke to leave your lips as you gasp for air, spit dripping down your chin and neck. You lick your lips and look up at Neteyam, but Aonung releases the back of your head to grab your chin to force you to look at him.

You make passionate eye contact with him, and he rubs your slit, drenching his fingers before sinking the tips of two out of three fingers into you, making you gasp and squirm on your knees.

“Been so good for me,” He whispers, leaning in to kiss your lips, getting a taste of Neteyams cock. “Let’s give our Teyam a show, shall we?”

You don’t say anything, you just grin and look up at Neteyam who’s chest seemed to be heaving as he silently begged for relief. He looked down at you and licked his lips, watching in agony as Aonung fingered you, making you moan and hold onto your other mate. You rolled your hips against Aonungs hand all while looking up at Neteyam who whimpered with tears forming.

Aonungs ears perk up at the noise that leaves the slim man, and his head shoots up to give him a glare. Neteyam gulped and without a second thought, he backed up and sat on the ground just like Aonung wanted. Aonung mentally cursed at his muntxatan for knowing his sexual habits so well, and Aonung nodded his head in approval.

“It’s okay, Tey. Just be good and we’ll give you what you want.” You say, crawling over to be in between Neteyam’s legs. You trail a finger up his pulsing cock, and kiss his lips softly. Neteyam eagerly kissed back, trying to deepen the kiss, but Aonung caught it and pulled you away, laying you down on your back right in between Neteyams legs.

You rest your head on Neteyams thigh as Aonung hovered over you, his hand pressed against your stomach to hold you down.

“Now, you’re gonna watch me fuck our yawne, and you’re not gonna do a single thing about it. No touching yourself, no touching her, no talking. Don’t even make a noise.” Aonung spat harshly at Neteyam who swallowed thickly and watched as Aonung pried his tewng off of his body, revealing his thick girth that leaked heavily of pre-cum. Your metkayina born mate rubbed your clit with his thumb, and then turned to look at Neteyam.

“Do you understand?” Aonung asked, glaring at him.

Neteyam nodded, but he quickly said, “Yes, sir,” because he knew that a simple action wouldn’t be good enough for Aonung.

“Be a good boy for us, okay? We’ll let you cum if you just behave.” You say softly to your mate, slightly feeling bad for him when you looked up and saw his eyes all glossy and lip quivering.

“It’ll be okay-“ You cut yourself off with a gasp when Aonung smacks his tip against your leaking folds to attempt to shut you up.

“Stop sweet talking him or else you won’t be able to cum either.” He warned, curly hair falling over his shoulder as he looked down at you. You nod in understanding, and Neteyam furrowed his hairless brows in frustration when Aonung didn't react to your simple action. If it were him, he would’ve been punished for not using his words.

Neteyam watched as Aonung pushed into you with a groan. You moaned and one of your hands grabbed Neteyams thigh, digging your nails into his flesh.

“Fuck! I’m- ‘Nung!” You moan, already being so close to the finish line due to Aonungs foreplay minutes ago.

“I know, baby. I can feel you.” Aonung leaned down and pressed his lips against your forehead, fucking you deep and slow, stretching you out. At this moment, he wasn’t trying to fuck you dumb, he was making sweet sweet love to you because he knew that it would drive Neteyam crazy and make his head spin as well as yours.

You loved the stretch of Neteyam’s cock, but nothing could compare to the stretch of Aonungs cock. Aonung was much thicker then Neteyam — though Neteyam was longer — and he often had to stay still for a minute when he bottoms out in you to let you adjust.

“Look at her when she cums, forest boy.” Aonung demands, his pace growing faster so that you all could hear how wet you were.

Neteyam is forced to open his eyes and stare down at you as your back arches and you moan out Aonungs name over and over again. Pure euphoria was all Neteyam could see, and his cock twitched at the sight of you creaming all over Aonungs cock while you rest between his legs.

Aonung groans loudly at the feeling of your tight cunt clenching around him repeatedly, and he brings one of his hands to your mouth, pushing his thumb between your lips and smiling in pleasure when you happily open your mouth to take in his thumb and suckle on it as if it were a cock.

Neteyams hips jerked, causing your head to jerk up as well which alerted Aonung of Neteyams action. Aonungs other hand pressed down on Neteyams thigh, right next to your head.

“Stay still.” Aonung says through gritted teeth as he continues to fuck you. He looks at Neteyam and he almost feels bad for a moment when he sees how vulnerable his muntxatan looked. “I know it’s hard, Teyam, but you’ll live. You’re a strong boy, aren’t you?”

Neteyam nodded quickly. “Yes, yes. ‘M your strong boy.”

“But you’re also hers.” Aonung corrected, tilting his head down to you who wasn’t even paying attention to your mates; you just closed your eyes and was in your own world once again as Aonung fucked you, hitting your g-spot over and over again.

“Yes, I’m hers.” Neteyam says, nodding again.

“Y’hear that, Ma’Y/N?” Aonung looks down at you, removing his thumb from your mouth, then chuckles. “Course you didn’t.”

“Hm?” You open your eyes and look up at Aonung who smirked down at you. Your gaze shifts to Neteyam, then back to Aonung. “We’re you talking to me?”

“Yes, but it’s okay, baby. Just keep laying there all pretty.” Aonung says to you gently, slowing his pace to grind his hips against you, his pelvis pressing against yours.

You whimper and nod, keeping your eyes open the best you could before they rolled into the back of your head when Aonung gave a particularly hard thrust against that pleasurable gummy spot inside of you.

“Fuck, she feels so good. So warm and tight. Bet you wish you could fuck her.” Aonung glances at Neteyam who bit his lip, then Aonung moans loudly when you clench around him for shits and giggles. “Naughty girl.”

You giggle softly and Aonung can’t help but smile. You look at Neteyam who was looking so desperate and agitated. You could tell he was itching to get some sort of friction as he shifted his hips slightly enough for you to feel it but not enough for Aonung to notice.

“Hmmm, gonna cum inside you. Paint your fucking insides white.” Aonung grunted, practically growling. “Y’gonna let me? Y’gonna let me breed you right in front of our mate? Huh?”

“Yes! Fuck, yes! Please, cum inside me ‘Nung. I need it!” You moan, rolling your hips to push him past his limit.

You hear Neteyams breathing get heavier, and you also hear Aonungs moans get louder and louder.

You loved how he didn’t care about the clan hearing. You loved that he took advantage of his role as Olo’eyktan, knowing that no one could tell him what to do or to be quiet.

One of your arms wraps around Aonungs neck, pulling him in so that he could rub his cheek against your scent glands, and one of your hands rubs Neteyam’s thighs. You sneakily brought your hand to wrap around his cock whilst Aonung didn’t have his eyes on him, and Neteyams jaw fell open, letting out silent moans.

Aonungs hips rutted against you to his hearts content, and his teeth sank into the skin of your shoulder as he smacked his hips against yours one final time.

He released into your with strangled moans and groans, his noises muffled against your skin. You feel his thick cum spurting inside of you, and you nearly came at the stimulation of his warm release. Aonung gripped Neteyams thigh tightly, and his other hand ran up your body to squeeze your tits. Aonung always came a lot in situations like these, so you made sure to comfort him through his orgasm.

Neteyam watches in pleasure between your hand stroking him slowly due to the awkward position you put your hand in to do so, and Aonungs orgasm, but Neteyams whines internally when your hand leaves his weeping cock to run your fingers through Aonungs loose and curly hair. You rub his neck, whispering sweet nothings into Aonungs ear.

“Shhh, it’s okay. Doing so well, baby.” You whisper softly to him, and he whines briefly.

Aonung lifts himself up with shaky arms and closed eyes before opening them to look down at you as he pulls out slowly. His cock seemed never ending as he was pulling out, and when he was finally out, you whimpered at the empty feeling in your stomach.

Aonung sits up and his knees, running his fingers through his hair whilst taking deep breaths. He grabs your hips and moves your body so that Neteyam could get a good view of Aonungs cum leaking out of your pretty pussy.

“Look at all that.” Aonung says, holding your legs open. Neteyam licked his lips, desperately wanting to disobey Aonungs orders and dive right in to the delicious meal on display for him.

“Aonung,” You call out to him, reaching a hand down to his forearm. “He’s been good, shouldn’t he be rewarded? I think he should.”

Neteyam is grateful for you trying to convince Aonung to let him join in on the fun, and he stares at you as you look at Aonung with your beautiful blue puppy eyes. Aonung looks back at you, contemplating in his mind. He can never say no to you when you look so gorgeous, and he growls in aggravation when he decides to oblige.

“I suppose you’re right. He’s been good enough, but don’t forget how he was acting earlier. His attitude is how we got in this position, anyway.” Aonung states and you shake your head.

“I didn’t forget. I just know we all have our bad days, and I think Teyam over here deserves a second chance.” You reply.

“You didn’t hear how he spoke to me.” Aonung argues, but you argue back.

“No, but I know that even you can be a bit mouthy when you’re in a bad mood. Why should his punishment be nothing? Why not everything all at once?” You suggest, gazing into Aonungs eyes. “You won’t talk to him like that again, now will you, Teyam?” You avert your attention to Neteyam who looked like he was about to burst any second.

“Fuck, please, I’ll never speak to you like that again, I promise.” Neteyam cries out, begging Aonung for forgiveness. “I was just in a bad mood, I swear. Just please give me something.”

“C’mon, ‘Nung. Who could say no to a pretty face like that?” You say, and Aonung looks at Neteyam, tracing the darker blue boys jawline softly.

Aonung huffs and takes hold of the back of Neteyams neck, pulling him up and then laying him on his stomach with his face right in front of your leaking pussy.

Neteyams hands go to grab your thighs once he gets a smell of yours and Aonungs scent mixed together, but Aonung growls and snaps, “Keep your hands behind your fucking back.”

Neteyam brings his hands back behind his back, and tries to inch his mouth closer to get a taste.

“Someone’s desperate.” You giggle, teasingly bringing your cunt closer to him.

“You have no idea.” He responds, eyes locked on all the juices that glistened in the dimly lit mauri. His mouth watered seeing Aonungs cum leaking and dripping down your taint and puckered hole, wanting nothing more than to drink it all up.

Aonung shifts to get behind Neteyam, then pushes Neteyams head into your cunt, causing a sharp moan to leave your lips. You’ve never felt Neteyam eat you out like this before, he was so hungry and his tongue worked wonders on your twitching bundle of nerves.

While that was happening, Aonung grabbed Neteyams thin tail which was swishing around and pulled it upwards, the fur on the tip of Neteyam’s tail curling inward to tickle his shoulder blades. Aonung pressed his tip against his aching hole, and Neteyam gasped against your drenched pussy when he felt it.

“Everything all at once, right?” Aonung inquired, looking at you for approval for once throughout the entire night. And when you nodded once feeling Aonungs heavy gaze, the real fun began and the night took a turn for the better.

another a/n: this has to be the longest and probably most interesting smut i’ve ever written. hope y’all enjoy! n don’t be a silent reader cuz if u enjoyed this, i would rlly appreciate it if u liked or reblogged! 🩷🩷🩷

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leilakisakabiri · 8 months

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Haunted House (Gavi)

Summary: You’re Gavi’s hometown friend and connect after months apart. One thing leads to another and soon you’re acting a little too friendly in a haunted house.

Warning(s): None

A/N: Surprise it’s me! I’ve missed you guys so much. Here’s a draft I had from a while ago. I heard there was a little Gavi drought so I’m here to provide. Also working on new stuff right now. Getting to requests soon!

Word Count: 2k+

Masterlist

“Oh my god, you’ve grown so much!” You exclaimed, hugging Gavi as you got off the train.

“Shut up Y/n. You saw me last summer.”

“No seriously. Last time you were down here.” You retorted, moving your hand down near your shoulder to show how short he once was.

He let out a dry laugh, “Haha. Well, I’m still taller than you.”

“By an inch. And I’m a girl!”

“Wow I thought you were all about feminism Y/n wha-,”

You hit his shoulder in annoyance, cutting him off, “Not like that! I mean I’m on the taller side for girls, and you’re on the..” you trailed off a smile taking over your face as you saw him give you the dirtiest side-eye.

It was October in Barcelona and Autumn was in full swing. The wind wrapped around the both of you as you walked, the leaves falling encompassing the city in shades of orange and brown. The air was crisp, and the smell of hazelnut and toffee wafted through the air from various street vendors.

You finally approached your destination and you let out a squeal seeing how massive it was, “Holy shit I don’t think I’ve ever seen a bigger haunted house!”

You felt Gavi stiffen beside you, “Yeah it looked a lot smaller in the photos.”

You turned to look at him, eyes gleaming, “Oh c’mon tell me you’re not scared.”

“Pfft. What no way!”

You narrowed your eyes at him but let it slide.

“Let’s go.” You said grabbing his wrist and pulling him along with you.

Once you had made it through the queue and got your tickets, the reality of the situation began to set it in.

The two of you were at Barcelona’s scariest and most famous haunted house. In years past attendees had fled the property saying they were too shocked and mentally scarred to recall what they saw. People had speculated for years that those customers had been paid off, and you believed it, now, however, standing in front of the gloomy house you were beginning to realize there could have been some truth to the story after all.

You were always a big fan of anything scary – after all Halloween was your favorite holiday for a reason. You were known in your friend group as the only one that would willingly watch horror movies, and play ‘supernatural’ games, always interested in the slightly darker things in life. However, even you, who could handle all of that, were a wee bit scared of the haunted house in front of you.

It was one thing to watch movies where you could predict what was going to happen, and yell at the main character through the screen, but to actually live through it, where someone could jump out at you around every turn was a little unnerving.

Especially since you were going with Gavi, someone who was notoriously known for avoiding those types of things at all costs. The only reason Gavi had agreed to come with you was because he had been asking you to come to Barcelona for weeks and this was the only way you would make the trip up. A compromise you could say. But now even you were wishing you took up Gavi’s offer to go to the aquarium instead.

The worker operating the front of the house called you over, pulling you from your thoughts.

“2?” He asked.

You both nodded, and he opened the door allowing you to enter.

You were greeted with a vast entry room with ceilings extending about 30 feet up and walls covered in cobwebs. The only light source was a barely there candlelight flickering in and out.

The monitor in front of you started playing. It explained the rules of the haunted house, and you felt yourself become more nervous once they started talking about the former customers they had tormented hard enough into leaving.

Suddenly the monitor cut off, leaving only the candlelight as a light source. You both watched as a new door creaked open.

You felt your palms begin to sweat.

You both stood rooted in place.

“Gavi,” You finally spoke, “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m kind of scared.”

Gavi whipped his head to look at you, panic already visible in his eyes, “Wait what?! Don’t say that Y/n, I’m already scared! You said you liked haunted houses!” He exclaimed.

You pursed your lips, “I usually do, but I feel on edge.”

The candlelight flickered off, leaving the two of you in complete darkness aside from the green glow of the open door.

“Oh shit Y/n I knew this was a bad idea. Fuck, what do we-?”

He didn’t even get to finish his sentence before a man with a chainsaw and a painted clown face jumped at him, sending the boy into overdrive.

He screamed, hands scrambling to grab your body as he rushed forward into the green glow, desperate to escape the killer clown.

Gavi’s scream set you into a fit of laughter, and you let yourself be tugged by him, too weak from laughing to stop him.

“Joder I swear I just went into cardiac arrest.” He said letting go of you and catching his breath.

You contained your laughter, only a few giggles escaping, beginning to feel at ease again now that the haunted house had officially begun.

“At least the first scare out of the way! The first one is always the scariest!” You said brightly walking forward, further into the house.

You felt him mutter something behind you, probably about how you were such a good friend for caring so much about him, but you didn’t give it a second thought too engrossed in the house.

You continued walking as random creatures jumped out of broken windows and walls trying to grab you, but you were quick to sidestep them. You noticed Gavi walking extremely close behind you to the point where you were sure that if you let your foot rest for a second longer on the ground he would step on it.

You finally stopped when you could feel him breathing down your neck, the little puffs of warm air sending tingles down your spine.

“Y/n don’t make fun of me but I’m kinda scared.”

You just stared at him.

“Ok maybe really scared. This isn’t good for me you know, I have training I can’t be getting my blood pressure up like this.” He persisted.

You groaned, “Oh my god – fine just hold my hand.” You tried to remain annoyed but you couldn’t stop the flutter in your stomach when his warm hand enveloped yours.

You stared at each other and you debated saying something before the moment was cut short by Gavi’s shrill scream, having gotten scared by an actor that jumped out of the wall.

You pulled him along with you as you entered a vortex tunnel with a faulty bridge.

“Nope. No way, I’m going to have an aneurysm.” Gavi spoke once seeing the path, trying to pull his hand away but you held on tighter.

“There’s only one way to go. Just close your eyes and give me your other hand.” You argued.

He groaned but did as he was told, “I hate you.” He muttered as you moved to grab his other hand and put both over your shoulders standing in front of him.

“Oh please you love me.” You smirked, starting to make your way through the tunnel.

He didn’t answer but you felt his grip on your hands tighten and you smiled softly.

You were almost done with the tunnel when you abruptly stopped causing Gavi to run into you.

“Why are we stopping?” He asked.

You bit your lip, not wanting to admit the truth.

“What? Is it that scary?” He questioned opening his eyes.

“I don’t see anything?”

“There’s a bird.” You whispered, eyes never leaving the small bird flying manically around the hallway, seemingly trying to find its way out after getting trapped.

“Y/n Don’t tell me you’re still afraid of birds.” Gavi shook his head smiling.

You sneered, “Of course I am. Those things are demonic.”

He rolled his eyes at your antics.

You had been terrified of birds since the day you were born, anything that could fly, peck, and chase you scared the shit out of you. And now the fact that a bird was flying around frantically, in an enclosed space, that you had to walk through- oh shit, you were going to die here because there was no way you were walking past that bird on your own free will.

“Please keep moving.” An operator’s voice sounded.

You groaned, putting your head in your hands as you decided what to do.

“Y/n we have to go.” Gavi urged, attempting to move you forward but you stood still.

“Just give me a second.”

“Here I’ll hold you, ok? That way the bird can’t get to your eyes. Only mine.” Gavi spoke.

You laughed at his weak excuse for a joke, weighing your options, “Fine but if that thing even touches me I’m shoving you into it and running.”

Gavi smiled down at you as he wrapped an arm around you, “Oh Y/n what a sweetheart you are.”

You stuck your tongue out at him before curling into him, snuggling your face into the side of his sweater, and squeezing your eyes shut so the bird couldn’t claw them out.

He wrapped both arms around you, shielding your head and shoulders from the bird.

You felt the birds squawking get closer and pulled him even closer, “I got you linda relax.”

His voice was soft in your ear, and you focused your attention on him and the beating of his heart rather than the manic bird two inches away.

Once the threat had been cleared you lifted your head in disbelief, “You’re alive! I can’t believe it, I thought for sure the bird would have had one of your eyes at least.”

He gasped at you, his arms loosening around you, as he dropped one, the other sliding to rest on your waist, “Oh please. It wasn’t even bad, poor birdie just couldn’t find the exit.”

“Yeah poor birdie.” You muttered sarcastically.

The rest of the haunted house passed uneventfully, and thankfully there were no more jump scares, saving Gavi from the cardiac arrest he claimed would be happening any day now.

Gavi’s hand stayed around your waist for the remainder of the house and while you could lie and say it was because he was still scared, you knew that the way he was holding you and the way you were leaning into him was a little too friendly to just be because of ‘nerves’.

Once you got to the outside world again you moved away from him, your eyes adjusting to the light.

“Well, thanks for coming with me Gavi.” You said, feeling grateful that your blush had faded when you were still in the dark.

“Woah this again! What’s with Gavi?” He asked you, an irritated look on his face.

Your eyebrows rose in shock, “That’s your name?” You asked confused about why he seemed annoyed.

“No I’m Pablo.” He said referring to the name that nearly no one called him anymore.

“Pretty sure the whole country knows you as Gavi estupido.” You rolled your eyes, hand coming up to hit his head playfully.

Gavi grabbed your hand, squeezing it, “Yeah but to you, I’m Pablo, ok?” His voice was sincere, and his eyes were shiny and bright.

You gave him a puzzled look, but still squeezed back, “Ok.”

You went to drop your hands, but he caught you by surprise again, holding yours firmly, “I think I like this better. My hand’s a little cold. You know it being fall and all.”

You smiled biting the inside of your cheek to not give yourself away, stay cool Y/n!

You nodded at him, “Oh for sure. Can’t have Barca’s golden boy falling sick.”

221 notes · View notes

outerbankies · 1 year

Text

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

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do-it-jakey-baby · 4 months

Text

An Unlikely Encounter

Jake Kiszka x f!reader

Synopsis: it is your first time attending a Greta Van Fleet gig by yourself, what happens next was only ever a figment of your wildest imagination.

Warnings: smut, drinking, language

18+, MINORS DNI

Chapter 2

Chapter 1

3.5k word count

“Ok, the doors are opening up. Please enter the building in an orderly fashion!”

Your heart pounded against your ribcage. You were sure that if the room were quieter, the sheer magnitude of thumps would rattle off the walls into thundery echoes. The screaming around you transformed into white noise as you tried to steady yourself amongst the movement.

The doors opened.

Pushed and shoved from all angles, you managed to find yourself quickly enough to propel forwards into a sprint. You weren’t the fittest of people, occasionally enjoying a trip to the gym here and there, but that didn’t stop you from treating this moment like you were an Olympian going for the gold. This was most certainly not your first Greta Van Fleet concert, but it was your first time being at the front of the standing queue. As you hit the barricade and came to a stop, your breath hitched in your throat. Did I really make barricade? You thought as your eyes widened. Holy fucking shit.

The supporting acts seemed to fly by in some dream-like state, and you were still spiralling at the mere thought of being metres away from the band by the time the crowd erupted into a symphony of screeches and wails. As you came to, you could hear a classical overture playing sweetly. You recognised the melody as it morphed from one familiar tune to the next, growing louder to emphasise that the curtain would soon drop. You stared up in anticipation as the overture reached its climax and watched eagerly as four figures emerged. They immediately launched into “The Falling Sky” and Josh’s powerful vocals filled the arena, drawing each and every person in like a siren’s deadly song. You were so enchanted by this that you didn’t notice who had made their way across the stage and was standing directly in front of you.

Jake fucking Kiszka.

There he was, like a shining deity before you. Sweat glistening on his bare chest, his hair softly swishing with every movement, his calloused hands meticulously strumming each chord. Was this a dream? Was Jake Kiszka actually standing right in front of you? Before you could even realise what was happening, your eyes met. You felt a searing warmth spreading across your cheeks, a shy smile playing on your lips. He smiled back, then his eyes moved away as he turned to travel across the stage and meet his brother at the centre.

What the fuck.

In all the times you’d been to see the band, you had never ever made eye contact with one of the boys. Let alone Jake. Jake plagued your thoughts frequently and refused to leave your dreams. His beautiful face that seemed to be carved by literal angels lingered in every corner of your mind. You force yourself back to reality, silently reminding yourself to be present and enjoy the evening, and you do. The atmosphere is electric, you sway along with thousands of fans and scream out the lyrics until your throat stings. Towards the end of the show, as Josh makes his way along the barricade, you reach out and his hand brushes yours. As you make contact, he looks you up and down and winks before making his exit.

What was that about? You think to yourself curiously.

As the night draws to a close, and the band is finishing up their encore, you close your lips around your fingers and send a piercing wolf whistle towards the stage. Jake’s eyes clap onto yours, sending shockwaves through your entire body. He blows you a kiss and your vision slowly fades to darkness.

You’re snapped back into reality when the bitter cold air hits your lungs. Somehow, you’ve made it outside the venue, and you’re stood alone clutching your bag and phone. A text buzzes and lights up the screen, which makes you jump and then subsequently tut with annoyance at the reaction. It’s your best friend. She usually comes with you to Greta gigs, but she’s been held up with work recently, so it’s your first time attending alone.

How was it? So fucking gutted I couldn’t make it. She writes.

Amazing… incredible. And weird. You type back, your fingers moving at a snail-like pace from the icy temperature lingering in the air.

Weird? Explain. She questions.

Before you begin to respond, you take in your environment. It’s 11:30pm, and you’re stood outside, alone, in Wembley, in the freezing cold. It’s probably a good idea to head back to your hotel room and finish this conversation somewhere warmer and safer. As you make your way down the street, you spot a small bar with pretty fairy lights shimmering in the window.

I wouldn’t say no to a drink right now you think to yourself, as you stop outside and peer in. It looks inviting, and warm.

What’s the harm in stopping by for one drink? You muse.

As you open the door, you’re met with the comforting scent of aromatic bitters, mixed with aged oak, and fresh citrus. You breathe in, as you rub your hands together in search of warmth. The bar is quiet with a few people dotted about in booths, making conversation. Soft jazz plays in the background as you make your way over to the bar. You perch yourself up onto a stool and the bartender approaches you to ask what you’ll have.

“Sailor Jerry’s and coke, if you have it” you say with a polite smile. The bartender nods and begins making your drink. He brings it over and you tap your phone onto the card reader.

“Thanks” you say, bringing the glass to your lips and taking in a sip of the sweet, golden liquid, savouring the burn of the alcohol as it slips down your throat. Your attention is quickly diverted though, as you hear a commotion of male voices at the door. Their boisterous laughter cuts through the ambience of the bar like a knife, which is quickly calmed by a very loud shhhhh from one of the taller men in the group. You can make out four figures but decide to pull your attention back to your drink and think about replying to the text message from earlier. As you begin to start typing a response, you feel the stool next to you being pulled away.

For fuck sake, can I not be left alone in peace for one evening without some random bloke bothering me? you think to yourself, rolling your eyes, ignoring the presence next to you and focusing on your phone screen.

The stranger leans in, close enough for you to feel his breath tickle the strands of hair covering your ear.

“Just my luck that I’d find you here, you left pretty quickly after the show was over”.

You look up, a frown forming across your forehead as you begin to reject the man’s advances and tell him you aren’t interested. As your eyes find his, time seems to slow almost to a stop. He grins and cocks his head to the side, an eyebrow rising ever so slightly as he waits for your response.

There’s no way this is happening. This can’t be happening.

You become aware that you’re staring silently, with your mouth hanging open. It feels as though you can’t take in enough breath. You clear your throat, not able to speak but wanting to at least do something.

After what seems like a million years pass by, you finally muster up the word “Hi”, a shy smile playing on your lips.

“Do I get to know your name, pretty lady?” he asks. You feel your stomach flip.

Did Jake Kiszka just call you pretty lady? Ok, calm down, calm down.

“Y/N” you say, admittedly a lot more confidently than you actually feel. “And I believe you must be Jake”.

“A pleasure to meet you, Y/N.” Jake responds, holding his hand out to you. You place your hand in his, and he brings it up to his lips, softly kissing it. The contact sends electric bolts through your nerve endings and into your very core.

“The pleasure is all mine” you breathe.

“So, how come I haven’t seen your beautiful face at our shows before?” He asks, shooting you a playful grin.

“I’ve never made barricade before” you reply honestly.

“What took you so long?”

You pause, not really knowing what to respond. What did take you so long?

You sigh “I always came along with my best friend and my boyfriend. Well, ex-boyfriend. We never actually booked standing tickets, but I was going to be here by myself this time so I thought, fuck it, I may as well try to get as close as I can.”

He sits back in his chair, studying your face.

“Ex-boyfriend?” He asks after a few moments. You feel yourself blush, which he definitely notices.

“Yes, ex-boyfriend. I called it off recently” you hesitate, before adding “It just wasn’t working, so… yeah.”

“Lucky for me” he retorts, his eyes fixated on you, drinking you in. He looks over at the bartender who swiftly walks over to take his order.

“I’ll have whatever she’s having, and of course she’ll need another”.

You look down at your half-finished drink and knock it back, sliding the empty glass over to the bartender.

Thirty minutes later and a few drinks in, you and Jake are chatting away like old friends. You’re so surprised at how easy he is to talk to.

“Do you live round here?” He asks.

“Uhh, it’s complicated” you respond, looking down at your drink and stirring it absentmindedly, watching the ice slosh around in the amber liquid.

Jake raises his eyebrow.

“Technically no, I live further South. I’m staying at a hotel across the street from the arena tonight. But I’m moving in with my best friend who lives here in London, since my ex and I-” you trail off.

Jake puts his hand on your thigh, and you feel your breath catch in the back of your throat.

“Do you still live with him?”

“No, he moved out a few weeks back. But I need to get out, too many memories there.” You squeeze your eyes shut, wincing slightly.

Unconsciously, your hand meets Jake’s, still placed on your thigh. You feel a warmth creep between your legs.

Fuck, it’s been so long since I’ve felt like this. So long since I’ve been… touched.

You bite at your lip and try to shoo the feeling away, but Jake leans in and uses his free hand to brush your hair behind your ear and leans forward to whisper.

“Sounds to me like it’s his loss, pretty lady”.

A soft moan escapes your lips, it’s barely audible but Jake is so close to you that he most definitely heard it. Your eyes dart up to his, your faces so close now that there’s only inches between you. His grip on your thigh tightens as the warmth between your legs spreads.

The next thing you know, you’re in the back of an Uber, Jake’s hands in your hair and his lips crashing into yours. Jake is cool, crystal water and you have an insatiable thirst that only he can quench. Jake’s hand slides up under the skirt of your dress, his fingers barely grazing your throbbing clit. You stifle a moan, your hands exploring his bare chest. The Uber pulls up outside your hotel, and Jake whisks you out and in through the doors. You lead him up to the third floor and fumble around in your bag to find the key card. As you find it, Jake grabs hold of your wrists with one hand and lifts them above you, pinning you to the door. With his spare hand, he lifts your thigh up and around his waist and grinds into you, the outline of his erection pressing right where you need it to. You cry out with pleasure, which Jake evidently seems to like.

“You sound so fucking beautiful when you moan like that” he purrs, retrieving the key card from your restrained hand and pressing it against the reader. As he opens the door, he pulls you up onto him so that you’re straddling him with your legs wrapped around his waist. He brings you over to the bed and sets you down onto it.

“Do you want me, pretty lady?” He asks.

“Fuck… yes! Please!” You shout, the agonising need to be fucked coursing through your veins.

“How long has it been since someone took care of you, baby?”

“Too fucking long” you whine.

“So, you’re telling me this pretty baby hasn’t been fucked for a while? When’s the last time he made you cum?” He taunts, planting hot, breathless kisses along your throat.

“He never made me cum”.

Jake stops in his tracks, runs his hands up and into your hair, and guides your face to his.

“He never made you cum?”

“No, I can’t.” You say, embarrassment flooding across your face. “I can only make myself cum”.

Jake laughs and you frown at him, not understanding what’s remotely amusing about what you just said.

His eyes blacken with lust. “We’ll see about that” he croons, snaking his hand up your thigh, inching dangerously close to your throbbing, needy clit.

“This only works if you trust me, can you do that?” He asks. You nod, but he shakes his head.

“Words, pretty lady. I need you to use your words. I won’t go easy on you, but you need to tell me if things get too much. Ok”

“Ok” you breathe “do anything, please do what you want, I’m yours”.

“You’re gunna wish you didn’t say that” he laughs, and with that, he bunches the waistband of your thong in his fist and rips it off in one clean movement. His middle finger runs through your wet pussy, collecting your heat as he trails upwards, and uses it as lubrication to rub agonisingly pleasurable circles across your swollen bud.

“Oh, fuck yes” you cry, your hands grabbing at your breasts over the velvet of your dress.

Clearly affected by your outbursts, he slips two fingers inside of you and begins pumping them, curling them up to reach your sweet spot. Your hands find their way under his shirt, and your fingernails dig into the flesh on his back.

“Fuck! Please, don’t stop!” You beg, your eyes rolling back into your head.

“You don’t need to beg me, baby. I’ll take care of you” he soothes, whilst doing the opposite with his hand. He’s fucking you so hard with his fingers, his pace causing a pressure to build up in your lower stomach. You know that feeling, and it’s usually only felt when you are in your own company, with your trusty wand vibrator in hand, but this time you are teetering on the edge of an orgasm at the hands of Jake fucking Kiszka.

That thought alone, and the knowledge that he is currently inside you, is enough to tip you over the edge. Your mind plunges into bliss as you pulse around his fingers. No man has ever made you cum before.

You hazily begin drifting down from your orgasm, but instead of letting up, he begins to pump into you even faster, still curling his fingers up and into your bulging G spot.

“Please, stop!” you cry out, beginning to feel overstimulated.

“I told you to trust me” he snaps, restraining your wrists with his free hand.

You’re writhing under his touch, the pressure building and building within you. The feeling is unfamiliar, but you do trust him.

“Come on baby, cum for me again, I know you can” he coos.

His gentle coaching paired with the enormous pleasure jolting through your body sends you headfirst into a crashing wave of ecstasy. You cry out as you cum harder than you ever have in your life. You throw your head back as you begin to see stars. Jake pulls his fingers out of you and rubs them viciously against your clit as you continue to gush out onto the bed sheets.

“Fuck, fuck!!!” You shout, completely consumed and lost in your orgasm.

Jake lifts his hand to his mouth and licks you off his fingers, savouring the taste of you like it’s his last ever meal.

“I fucking love a squirter” he moans, climbing on top and pressing his hard cock into you.

“Tell me what you want baby” he asks.

“I want you to fuck me” you breathe.

“You ready for more, princess?” He taunts.

“Yes, fuck yes. Please, Jake.” You plead.

He hooks his arm underneath you and pulls you up, so you’re sat upright on top of him. He lifts your dress over your head and exposes your bare breasts, your nipples hard and pebbled. He takes one into his mouth and begins to suck on it gently, which causes you to whimper.

You pull his shirt off and begin unbuttoning his pants. He yanks them off and you delve into his boxers, sliding your hand down his shaft. He groans, a pearl of pre-cum forming at his tip. He runs his fingers through your folds to gather your slick and uses it to pump himself a few times with this before lifting you up and pulling you down onto him. His hard cock slips inside you with ease, and you both wail with immense pleasure. He begins fucking into you hard and fast, his hands finding your throat and choking you slightly, his teeth burrowing into your collarbone. Your mind goes hazy as you sink deeper and deeper into euphoria. The bed frame pounds against the wall as Jake drives his length into you, his free hand stroking across your clit.

“Jake, I’m gunna fucking cum” you sob, tears falling down your cheeks.

“Cum for me baby, cum so hard for me. I’m so close angel”. You can see he’s teetering on the edge himself, his face plastered with pleasure, but he wants you to get there first. His selflessness and desire for your own pleasure sends you tumbling into orgasm number three, that same rush of endorphins flooding through your veins as you clench hard around him and cover him in your arousal. He curses loudly as his cock twitches inside of you, and he’s cumming right alongside you. The symphony of curses, moans and groans light up the dark room with their beautiful song.

You find yourselves intertwined in a heap on the bed, panting and sweating, tangled up together as you float down from ecstasy. He cups your face in his hands and kisses your forehead gently, in a way that makes you feel like the most special person in the world.

“Wow” you whisper, your heart rate returning to a steadier pace.

“You are fucking phenomenal” he praises softly, stroking your hair.

You lay there for a while, in silence, letting Jake hold you.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course” Jake replies, caressing your cheek

“Why me?”

“Huh?” He looks at you, confused.

“Why me? You could have had any girl tonight, literally any girl. Why did you choose me?”

He sighs. “To be honest with you, I don’t do this a lot. I know that might seem hard to believe, given my profession…” he hesitates “I actually recently got out of a long-term relationship myself too, and the last thing I’ve wanted to do is date or sleep with someone else. But when I saw you in the crowd tonight, it sounds stupid, but I knew I had to get to know you. I knew you were special.”

You blush, not knowing what to say back.

“Is it weird if I tell you I’ve had a crush on you for like, the longest time” you giggle.

“Fuck no” he laughs, before adding “you’re only human” with a wink.

You stay up talking for hours, about where you grew up, how many siblings you have, what your life ambitions are and all the other deep shit that you share when getting to know someone. He laughs, you laugh. At around 3am, you realise the time.

“Shit, it’s so late!” You gasp.

Jake laughs and places his hand over yours. “I guess time flies when you’re having fun”.

“I suppose you need to leave; I have no idea what a rock star’s schedule is like but I’m sure it’s busy!” You say, unable to hide the sullen undertones in your voice.

“We actually have a week until the next show, so we were planning on hanging around here and doing some tourist shit. Josh really likes London, something about it being ‘good for the artist’s soul’, whatever the fuck that means…”

“Oh, that’s cool” You mumble, not really knowing what else to say. You want to ask him to stay, but you’ve only just met the guy.

“Do you mind if I crash with you tonight?” Jake asks, smiling softly at you. It’s as if he read your mind…

“No not at all!” Yeah, good going, make it super obvious how happy that made you, you sound like a giddy schoolgirl!

He chuckles, moving forward and enveloping you in a tight embrace.

“Good night, Y/N. I’m so glad I met you today” he breathes into your ear.

“Good night, Jake. I’m glad too.”

#jake greta van fleet #gresties #the peaceful army #jake lane #kiszka #jake kiszka x y/n #jake kiszka x you #jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka fanfic #jake kiszka #jake kiszka smut #jake kiszka x oc #greta van fleet #greta van fic #jake gvf #gvf #gvf fanfiction #gvf fic #gvf smut

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weebsinstash · 11 months

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Ok but like

Imagine if there is 1 spider who can tell the difference, a bestie you had that was perhaps the one who was sent to recruit you in the first place, and/or the one who was the first to go on a mission with you, and the first(outside of Miguel because ofc he had to watch and decide to let you join) to go yandere.

And imagine when YT shows they dont care, actively trying to distance themselves from her in any way they can. And they're the only one who can tell the difference, with just even seeing how they walk being enough to know it's not you.

But when they point out that's not you all the other spiders deny it, saying they'd be able to tell the difference without even trying(they cant lmao).

Then YT decides to make they're life hell because how fucking dare this rando try to out her?! So all the spiders bounce back and forth from treating them like shit to treating them how they normally would depending on which you they talk to.

Then when they nearly or they think they kill you they freaking the fuck out, having to be restrained to stop from helping you. Possibly even being degraded for trying to help 'YT', with some even saying they should kick them out of the society after.

Holy shit- imagine if they're the reason you live taking off their's and throwing it to you because they'll just go back to they're universe unlike you.

Or imagine they leave the society after you 'died', possibly even getting kicked out for attempting to attack 'you' in a fit of rage. Only to once back in they're own universe do their best to try and find a way to bring the real you back.

Queue you at your new home or job and what a looks like a hobo bursts in sobbing they're eyes out and calling your name. Tackling you into a hug, insisting their never letting you go and never letting those monsters near you again.

God love all this drama and heartbreak ♥️💕♥️💅

An idea I had thought of was "what if a Spiderperson Reader had been close to had to go do stuff in their own universe and that made them too busy to come and visit and during all the YouTwo drams they're instrumental in saving your ass"

Like for example Peter Porker and Spider Noir are absent from the second movie so say we've got Miguel and the other relevant Spiders are having their weekly "We Love Reader" power hour when Noir descends from above and shares the findings of his investigation, pure detective style, with pictures and everything, or lil Porker can tap into some toonforce shit and just glance at YouTwo and say "haha OK really funny, but where's the real one?"

Say you're good friends with Hobie and he has to "go underground for a lil while" cause he has to focus on fighting the fascists back home, and then he pops up like two months later, you're glitching out because YouTwo just smashed your bracelet and Miguel and tons and tons of other Spiders watching and facilitating and Hobie takes one look at YT, "who's this slag?"

Or, before he takes his trip, he comes to visit you at your apartment, definitely knowing it's you he's speaking to, and YouTwo is in Nueva York and you're starting to get paranoid and you open up to him about all your worries and the weird shit starting to happen, how you're worries about being replaced and how people are coming up to you about things you didn't say or do, and you even suggest a secret password so that the next time he speaks to you, he can know it's really you, and Hobie can tell you're just, absolutely stressed the fuck out about all of this, probably even passes the word on to Gwen and Pav since they're mutual friends to help keep an eye on you while he's gone, and to watch out for YouTwo

Cue Hobie "I hate fascists and tyrants" Brown coming back and you're just glitching all over the place with your bracelet broken on the ground while Miguel and tons of other Spiders are just WATCHING and you see him and immediately start screaming the password and "hobie, don't let them kill me, this is gonna kill me hobie, please help me, i dont wanna die, please i dont want to die" and, obviously best case scenario is "Hobie convinces them that YT is the fake" or "he opens a portal back home, gives you his bracelet, and both of you immediately fuck off to go flee into his home universe" but of course the more chaotic "you vanish and all hell breaks loose, a full on civil war between 'the Reader Loyalists' vs 'the YouTwo beta cucks' and everyone is scrambling to find you while you're off like, hanging out with Miles as he helps heal your trust by being a good little brother or getting creampied by Miguel 2

But like. Lmao. Imagine some shit happens like Reader was good pals with Sun Spider, told her you thought it was really inspiring to see a disabled Spider (and I mean depending on your preference Reader has problems themself) and like. It's a week after you've been "poofed away" and everyone is hanging out at like a celebration party or something just because, so many of then are convinced YT is you which means they're also still being nice as fuck to YT because you had been starting to become depressed and also the whole elevator incident and, everyone's having drinks and snacks and suddenly YT makes this sort of. Comment. It's either something like "who's the Spider in the wheelchair" or something like. Vaguely or super offensive "it's just kind of, awkward, you know, being around one of THOSE people"

And Pav is there and just kind of chuckles because he's confused and YouTwo continues "I just mean, you know. We're kind of better than them, you know? How did a cripple become a Spider?"

Cue everyone in earshot just, like, all but dropping everything in their hands as the realization sweeps over the room, "oh shit that's a fake, the real you is gone"

I imagine until they got caught that YouTwo is an absolute menace. Could suck up to one of the scientist Spidermen to help make bugs and wiretaps to spy on you in your apartment so YT can better impersonate you, intercepting any social plans and showing up in your place, learning personal info, private mannerisms. YT, to be blunt, using sex to control any Spiders who like you thst way to have them make fake alibis or spread rumors or help YT make other helpful connections (who are all also furious when YT is exposed, because, like, for ones who slept with them, dude that's rape, they all thought they were sleeping with someone else. Could you imagine Miguel fucking YT and that's like the first person he's been with since his wife has died and he had meant it to be with you and it actually be some big impactful like extremely emotional thing for him, and it's this massively personal invasion of his privacy and trust that it turned out to be an imposter. He feels dirty and disgusted and, oh my god he GOT RID OF YOU for this, this evil, selfish, manipulative whore

Reader off trying to mind their own goddamn business in their new home, either on their own or New Miguel, and you bump into someone who you USED to consider a friend and, with good intentions they tell the Spider Society you're alive and, it begins this massive manhunt with the intention of bring you "back home". THEY are all super extremely happy, making preparations to throw one big "We're So Sorry We Kind Of Replaced You And Almost Killed You" party, meanwhile YOU are terrified at the sight of any of them because you can't trust them and the Society as a whole anymore and, what if they tried to kill you again?

Miguel: I can't even express how glad I am that you're still alive. We've been looking everywhere for you because we're sorry and--

Reader, shoving bagels into their purse: sorry I have to go

#atsv #yandere stuff #yandere x reader #sinprompts #yandere spiderverse

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putting-it-into-parc · 2 months

Text

jealousy, jealousy - chapter 6: after one too many gin tonics

f1 fanfic: lestappen (max x charles)

previous chapter | next chapter

chapter summary: still in melbourne, still that bar. now hear what happened that night, only this time from max…

chapter 6: after one too many gin tonics

Back in his hotel room, Max ran a hand through his crusty-with-champagne hair, the high of the podium celebration having long worn off. His phone buzzed in his back pocket.

Checo Perez Postrace @ Lui. Meet team downstairs in 20?

Max sighed heavily. Normally he’d already be drunk by now and well on his way to getting Lando sloshed as well. But he felt too anxious to go out; in fact, he wanted nothing more than to braise his body in the shower, order fries from room service (he highly doubted they’d have mashed potatoes), and play mindless video games until he felt like he could sleep.

He wasn’t sure what scenario he dreaded more: one where Charles WAS there, or one where he wasn’t. Actually, he knew what the worst possibility was. Charles, arm in arm with Danny and Carlos, giggling like girls. Maybe he’d dance with his teammate. Maybe at some point his uncoordinated floundering and Carlos’ smooth motions would bring their bodies together, somehow gently instead of the hilarious mashing that usually ensued. And maybe Carlos would notice that Charles’ lips started in a perfect Cupid’s bow, and realize how fucking amazing it might feel to have them on his own full ones.

Max shook his head.

Was he seriously thinking about Carlos Sainz’s fucking lips right now? How did he even know they were full? And then he realized it wasn’t Carlos’ lips he had been imagining on Charles’.

Holy shit. He was actually out of his mind. Maybe what he really needed was enough gin to obliterate his fucked up brain cells. If he was going to spend the rest of the night alone with his thoughts, he was fucked beyond all hope.

He picked up his phone.

Me I’ll be there.

Then he stripped his clothes off, showered as fast as possible, and spent the entirety of his 13 remaining minutes picking out an outfit that did not involve a Red Bull shirt. Definitely not because he was thinking of a certain someone who liked fashion a lot more than he did.

Max was well aware that he was pushing the pace a lot harder than usual. His angry three shots of whatever the fuck Lando had brought over had earned him a concerned look from Checo and some excited whoops from Oscar, who was gleefully riding his P4 high. Max had never seen the young driver so visibly happy, and he briefly remembered how he felt driving F1 as a rookie, albeit masked by the thick haze that already threatened to fill his brain.

Alex materialized behind Max. “Just so you know,” he shouted over the thumping bass, “Lando is currently telling the DJ to queue up Super Max.”

“Fine by me,” Max said carelessly as Pierre hoisted Yuki onto a table and told him to “dance, you little piece of shit”. And then followed him up on to the same table. He couldn’t stop watching them—laughing maniacally and jumping to the beat. So what if Pierre and Yuki’s antics were closer to seizure activity than a sensual slow dance? They had someone to dance with…and were having a lot more fun than he was at the moment.

He made his way over to a ring of sofas, currently occupied by George, Danny, Zhou, and a small crowd of twenty-something girls. Zhou already had his arm around one, and she was laughing at something he said.

“SUPER MAX!” Danny grinned, moving to give him space to sit.

Max accepted the open seat and turned to the girl on his other side. She blushed when he made eye contact with her. He extended a hand. “Max.”

“Taylor,” she smiled, tucking blond hair behind her ear as she accepted his handshake. Her eyes could be the same shade of green as Charles’, he mused, although it was a little hard to tell in the dark club.

No. None of that.

An unknown number of drinks later, Max had managed to maintain some semblance of conversation with Taylor, judging by the way she was still next to him. Zhou and his girl was long gone—Max vaguely recalled seeing him kiss her hand like he was some kind of medieval prince, and somehow making it look suave as fuck. Truth be told, Max was pretty terrible with girls, especially ones that didn’t have any idea what he did. It was his fault, of course—he spent most of his waking hours thinking about racing and not much else. But he did like listening to others, and the millions of different things they could be interested in, and luckily Taylor had no problems talking. He stretched in his seat, accidentally grazing her leg with his.

“Sorry,” he apologized quickly.

Taylor’s eyes lit up. “No no! No problem at all.” She scooted just a little bit closer to him. Max could tell she’d be pretty receptive to an arm around the shoulders right about now. He just couldn’t bring himself to do it.

A flash of red caught his attention. Charles was weaving his way through the crowd with a winning smile on his face. Taylor said something else, but Max heard none of it.

Danny’s faint whoops floated through the air. “Ki, ki, ki, ay ay, rrrrra!”

Max suddenly found himself on his feet. Taylor looked up at him, bewildered. Muttering some semblance of an apology, he jostled his way through the sea of bodies, towards where he saw Charles go. His mind was totally blank, and his body felt like it was a puppet whose strings were pulled by someone that was decidedly not him.

Two bodies in red. One with his arm around the other. Max saw Carlos throw back his chin laughing, run his hand through his luscious hair, and smoothly pluck the cap right off of Charles’ head and place it on his own. Charles turned to face him, and even by his profile Max could tell his eyes were crinkled in a smile infinitely more genuine than the grin he’d contorted his face into earlier while wandering the club.

And then, in an instant, the smile wavered and was gone. Charles had noticed Max standing in front of them. A tiny wrinkle appeared between his eyebrows, and that disastrous Cupid’s bow flattened as he frowned. At Max.

Carlos, on the other hand, beamed even more brightly, other arm already reaching out towards the newcomer.

Max couldn’t speak, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything of his own volition at this point. He drunkenly reached towards Carlos, stumbling directly into his open arms.

“Dios, amigo,” Carlos laughed. “Someone’s had a lot to drink.”

“Carlos,” Max slurred, “I was so right about your lips. Pillows, amigo. Pillows. You could get a full night’s rest on them.”

“Why were you talking about my lips, Max?” Carlos smirked.

Charles gaped, open-mouthed, at them.

“Dance with me, Carlos,” Max begged. “But not like Yuki and Pierre. Dance with me like you mean it.”

Carlos looked more concerned than amused now. “Max? You good buddy?”

“What?” he shouted, a little angrily. “Can a guy not dance with his mates?”

In the very back recesses of his mind, Max was vaguely aware that he was acting extremely aggressive and extremely gay. But the dumbfounded look on Charles’ face spurred him on.

“Okay, mijo,” Carlos shrugged, and allowed Max to drag him to the cluster of moving bodies. Charles didn’t move. He stood like a statue, mouth still slightly agape.

“Carlos,” Max said, swaying into him. “You are a beautiful man.”

“And you are piss-drunk,” Carlos responded smoothly. “Although, I must say, Max—I had no idea you were so affectionate.”

“Carlos,” Max repeated. “I need you to tell me, what would it take for you to kiss another guy.”

It was about then that little corner of Max’s mind realized how incredibly screwed he was, because Carlos leaned in until their noses were almost touching.

He said, softly, “What does it matter to you, Max? Because I think I am not the person you would really want to be asking.”

And Max’s vision went black.

Max could feel the sunlight searing his eyelids, but knew that if he opened them, he’d be met with the worst headache of his life.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

Super Max. Zhou flirting with a girl. There was some girl of his own, he was talking to…

Yuki. Yuki on the table. Carlos and Charles.

Charles.

Charles looking devastated. At him. At Max.

Where the fuck was he? He forced his eyelids open. He was utterly right about the headache; the room took at least 30 seconds to stop spinning and come into focus. Somehow, he had taken out his contacts before passing out. Unfortunately, he seemed to have passed out in a bed other than his.

A red cap was perched on the nightstand. Suddenly, a sick feeling invaded Max’s stomach and worked its way up his esophagus. He stumbled out of bed, flung open the bathroom door, emptied his stomach in the toilet.

Someone cleared his throat behind him. Max whirled around.

Charles was staring at the floor. In his outstretched hand were Max��s glasses and a water bottle.

“Checo brought me your glasses this morning.”

Max couldn’t look Charles in the eye. “Thanks.”

“You were really drunk last night. Checo says you took three shots the second you walked in. Carlos was actually scared.”

“I’m sorry,” Max muttered.

“Maybe you should be telling Carlos that.” Was that a twinge of bitterness in Charles’ voice?

Max opened his mouth to speak, but Charles was already walking away. Max felt like his insides were crumbling to dust.

He heard someone enter the suite, then Carlos’ voice asking if he was awake. And then the sound of someone sniffling and being patted on the back, Carlos murmuring “I’m sorry” and “it’s okay”. By the time Max left the bathroom, Charles was gone. And Carlos stood over him, rather menacingly.

He looked Max directly in the eye. “Alright, amigo. You have, how do you call it, some explaining to do.”

Max felt like a little kid in the principal’s office. He blushed angrily. “So I got drunk. I’m sorry. I don’t really remember what happened—tell me what I did and I’ll apologize for it.”

He realized he had never seen Carlos truly upset before. Carlos took a deep breath. When he spoke, his tone was measured. “Well firstly, you passed out on the dance floor. Charles carried you to the car and up to his room. He made you change and held you while you puked your guts out and remembered to make you take your fucking contact lenses out. He and George were going to take turns checking on you to make sure you didn’t die, but Charles said he couldn’t sleep. And he stayed up the entire night watching you.”

Max’s stomach twisted into a knot.

“And I would love to think that you do not remember this, but you came over to us, and acted like you wanted to fuck me right there in the club.”

Oh god.

“Carlos, I am so sorry, I—”

“Oh no you don’t,” Carlos snapped. “The fact you were hitting on me wasn’t a problem. The problem was that you did it staring, directly at Charles—the entire time.”

Max’s entire body felt numb and cold. He shook his head, closing his eyes. He wished he had just ceased to exist in the club last night the moment he blacked out on the dance floor.

“I don’t know what is going on with you,” Carlos continued, “and this is between you and me, but I can tell you that in all the time we’ve been teammates I have never heard Charles cry until last night. Fuck man, I’ve never heard anybody cry the way he did. And I can imagine some things maybe are not easy, I have no business prying into your personal life, but I cannot imagine wanting to hurt someone. Like that.”

“Carlos,” Max croaked. He cleared his throat. “Carlos…I am so fucked up. I don’t know what to say. Charles…he’s hated me and he still does and he always will!” He felt his voice rise shrilly on the last words, and to his horror, felt a tear escape his eye and land on his chest.

Carlos regarded him steadily. “You need to figure a lot of things out, mate. But I’ll tell you this. You don’t get to say how Charles feels about you. Only he does.”

Max started to cry. Carlos wrapped his arms around him. “You’ll be okay, amigo. But maybe next time pick someone else to use as your seducing jealous object. If I’m being completely honest…it was a little bit weird.”

And despite how incredibly, absurdly, fully fucked up this entire situation was, Max couldn’t help but laugh.

notes: ohhhhh, shit. at least max has admitted how he feels about charles, even though their friendship might be fubar for good...

i have mixed feelings on the whole alternate pov thing so…hope it wasn’t too repetitive of a read. if it was, feel free to tell me 😜

taglist @fangirl-dot-com @spacegirlstuff @vroomvroomgang @perfectlyrainywerewolf

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subtle-as-an-earthquake · 6 months

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So I know this post is pretty overdue and a bit superfluous by this point maybe, but since I am now back home and finally have time to sit down and write down my thoughts about the last few days, I thought I'd still do a recap post of my experience of the Dublin shows (and a bit about my trip to Dublin in general). Just for anyone who might be interested or even just for me to remember everything by!

Having said that though, I don’t actually know how to even begin putting into words what this trip meant to me 🥺 I’ve said this before, but after seeing them in June and thinking that was it for the foreseeable future, getting to see them again so soon, twice, and it being the very last two shows of the tour as well, felt like an incredible opportunity and huge gift and I could not be more grateful for it ❤️

Recap of Dublin shows 3 & 4 and some more pics below the cut!

I flew in from Amsterdam on Tuesday morning with a Dutch friend, and we met up with another friend of mine who flew in from London at the same time (my London friend went with me to Tuesday's gig, and my Amsterdam friend to Thursday's gig)

London friend and I then headed to the 3Arena to queue up outside and it was fucking freezing lmao. But we played ‘guess the Arctic Monkeys song from the intro’ and had a chance to catch up so all in all it wasn’t too bad, and it’s always so much fun being surrounded by fellow arctic monkeys fans who love them enough to queue up for hours in the cold <3

Once we were inside, we legged it to the stage and then spent another two hours trying to defend our (pretty good, very central) spots and trying not to think about the fact that we had to pee, as you do. We happened to be standing next to a group of Dutch speaking girls, and it turned out one of them had also met Miles in Amsterdam recently, at the same signing I’d been at! Such a small world. But they were really lovely so the two hours flew past, and then it was Miles time!!!!! 🥰

And my god, he literally blew everyone away, he was just insanely good as always. My friend was not really a Miles fan before the gig, and then while he was playing, she kept going “holy shit minnie he’s so good??” and I was like “TOLD YOU”, so now she’s a big fan as well, which is honestly very satisfying 😌 There were so many amazing moments during his set, but the one that stayed with me most I’ve already talked about in this post. It was honestly just…. very intense and really hard to explain in a non-shippy way? Even my non-shipper friend was like… hmm ok yes, that seems very significant 🤔

But anyway, Miles rocked the house, and then it was only a short wait until the main show. And while most of it is a blur because I just lose my mind when I see my boys play, I did make sure to really absorb some special moments and things I really wanted to remember. Being able to clearly see Alex’s intense, goofy and beautiful facial expressions, his HANDS, the cute little interactions he had with the rest of the band (giggles with Matt and smiley asides with Jamie and Nick), the moment where Alex made grabby hands at the plushie and then laughed some more when he couldn’t have it, Jamie being an absolute rockstar as always, Nick looking like a total snack (my friend has a giant crush on Nick, understandably so), Matt being a literal drum god (I love seeing him play SO much). Just... incredible 🙌🏻💘

I really wasn’t expecting Miles to join them during that show, so when Alex gave him a shoutout I knew it was just that, but my friend didn’t, so she started hitting me like “he’s coming back!” and I was like “no he’s not”, and he wasn’t unfortunately lmao. The Dutch and Belgian girls next to me were extremely disappointed (they were Milex shippers as well, of course), but I know at least one of them was there on Thursday as well so I love that for her. Other memorable moments were Alex singing the “remember when you used to be a rascal” line followed by “do you remember? I remember” after which I yelled at my friend “Miles used to be a rascal!!!” and then later I found out Miles was actually on that side of the stage 😭😭 Even though I didn’t find out about that until later, I definitely noticed that Alex kept gesturing towards that side of the stage (the Star Treatment intermezzo was wild, I was like, “WHO is he pointing at for the dolls like you and me thing??” And then it turned out to be Miles 🫠

Another thing I noticed was that the average age of the crowd was way lower than I’m used to it being, which my friend explained may have something to do with tiktok? Lmao idk, hut the the standing crowd did mostly consist of younger, shorter girls for some reason lol, so there wasn’t as much jumping as I’d have liked there to be. My friend and I just went for it regardless, even if we were some of the only people going crazy. But you just have to, you know what I mean? Anyway, it was such an incredible show and after it ended, we were just on cloud nine, singing Fluorescent Adolescent with everyone on the Luas going back to town, which is always just such a blast. And then we ended up in Temple Bar where there was more live music as well as about 500 other Arctic Monkeys fans, so that was great fun too 💫

The next day, the three of us went to a tattoo shop where I’d booked an appointment and I got my tattoo which I am EXTREMELY happy with. The tattoo artist was a girl from Brazil and when she asked me about the meaning of my tattoo (I’ll post a pic later) I told her it was an Arctic Monkeys song and the just yelled across the shop to a few other artists and it turned out they’d been at the concert too, so we all geeked out about them while I got my tattoo done lmao, so much fun 😂

Then my London friend unfortunately had to fly back home later that day, so my Amsterdam friend and I ended up in the pub again because that’s what we do. It was just a very average pub with two very average men playing amazing folk music, and when we walked in, I was like “huh that guy looks like Zackery Michael, that’s funny.” And then later I was stood next to him at the bar and heard he was American, so I was like hmmm, and decided to just ask him if he was in fact Zackery Michael. He was like “that is me!” lol (thank god, would’ve been embarrassing if it hadn’t been) so we had a little chat about the fact that we were both in town for Arctic Monkeys but in slightly different capacities lol, and he was just super nice and was happy to take a photo with me, and then I let him get back to his conversation with the three extremely pretty girls he was with 😅

Anyways, so then on Thursday after breakfast we bought some souvenirs and I bought some great Arctic Monkeys mini posters and some other stuff at this lovely little comic book/record store which was playing Humbug, the owner of which told us he also went to see Arctic Monkeys on Tuesday and loved them, so that was another amazing chance meeting 💜 And then it was after 12pm so it was time for whiskey, and then the meeting with the fellow TLSP/Arctic Monkeys/Miles Kane fan bartender happened which I posted about here, which was so lovely and also secretly made me want to believe it was a sign for the show that night 🙈

But I still couldn’t let myself hope or believe TOO much, so I just kept telling my friend “they’re not going to do it and that’s okay” and she was like “sure, whatever you say” 😂 We had seated tickets for this gig, so we were unfortunately much further away than I had been on Tuesday. And also I just don’t like being seated at concerts, let alone an Arctic Monkeys one, but to be honest, the seats were pretty good. Miles once again gave his absolute all and converted not just my Dutch friend as well, but also a lot of the people around us who we overheard saying things like “did you know he was this good??” and checking Miles’s Wikipedia page, which was great to see. And from up on the balcony we could clearly see that the people in the crowd were really singing along and having an amazing time during Miles’s set (COTT was extremely emotional, all the lights were so lovely ✨️) and I just felt so proud of him and happy for him that it was such a roaring success 🥹💖

The roaring success continued for Arctic Monkeys of course, although it was really weird to see so many people go mental for Snap Out Of It and Arabella etc. 😅 But yeah, the people do love AM it seems, which is why the first part of the setlist was pretty much the same as it had been on Tuesday. Hello You was amazing though!! And then after There’d Better Be a Mirrorball, I knew that it was 505 time, and Alex did say ‘Let’s hear it for Miles Kane’. But because it was the same thing he’d said before, I was still convinced Miles wouldn’t come on. AND THEN HE DID 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 I absolutely lost my shit, not even kidding. I just started screaming and threw my phone at my poor friend being like “FILM IT” which she did, bless her heart, and uhhh, yeah then I cried throughout the whole performance 😭 And then at the end, the lights went out and I saw their shadows (our shadow puppets <3) coming together so I was like did they hug??? And then I only found out later that evening when I checked tumblr that they in fact did hug and then my night was just completely made (lol, I say my night but I mean my life, obviously)

Do I Wanna Know was a total blur after that of course, but I was back for Body Paint which was absolutely incredible as always. And then they did Big Ideas as the encore and uuhhh yeah I sobbed 🙃 It was SO beautiful, and so special hearing it live with the strings, and SO fucking sad. And then once RU Mine? finished and the lights stayed off, I was like aaahhh we’re getting one more!! And then OF COURSE it was Perfect Sense because Alex is a dramatic bastard, and of course I cried some more. It was stunning and extremely emotional 💔

So then my friend and I went to drown my sorrows (and elation about the Milex reunion) in the pub and we actually had a great time with some fellow AM fans and live music again. I swear it was like all of Dublin was just there for Arctic Monkeys. Unfortunately, we were not in the pub where the boys apparently went ugh, but still, it was fun. And yesterday morning I woke up with a killer hangover so I swore I would not drink anymore, but it was raining so much, so we did end up in the pub again where we got talking to some really cool Irish guys who (surprise) also loved Arctic Monkeys, and they insisted on buying us drinks so obviously I couldn’t decline. So we just sat and drank with them until we had to catch our flight, and of course by that time I was tipsy and maudlin and the weather wasn’t helping so I cried all the way to the airport (especially since we passed the arena again) and then I cried some more in the airport like the drama queen I am 🥲

It’s just that I’m so sad it’s over, and so scared and worried about the future of the band, with how much this felt like a goodbye 😔 But I’m just going to assume that it’s just goodbye for now, and that they’ll take a well-deserved break, maybe do their own things for a while, and that in a few years’ time they’ll get back to making music together again. I really do think they have so much fun doing what they do together, and they’re basically like family, and Alex wouldn’t know what to do with himself if he couldn’t make music, so surely they’ll be back eventually. But please, just don’t be too long boys 🥺🙏🏻❤️

All in all, though, what has stayed with me most from this trip is a sense of gratefulness that I was lucky enough to experience all this, my 8th and 9th Arctic Monkeys gigs to date, the last dates of the tour, the Milex reunion (!!!!!!!) and to get to share it with two of my best friends in the world, a whole bunch of arctic monkeys loving strangers who I randomly met, and all of you guys I’ve met on here these past few months. The sense of connection and community I’ve found through this band means so much to me, more than I can say, actually, and I’m so grateful to them for that, in addition to the music they’ve given us. And although the tour is over, I am honestly looking forward to sharing the love we have for them with you all for a long time to come and for now, I am so excited about getting back to writing my silly little Milex stories (and insanely happy they finally gave us that little reunion we hope for, so that I’m still excited and hopeful about their relationship rather than heartbroken and resigned, which is what I probably would’ve been if they hadn’t performed together. So thank you for that, boys 💘)

So yes. Very, VERY long story short: Arctic Monkeys is and always will be my favourite band in the world, they ended the tour on an absolute high (and with Miles!) and this was an experience I will never, ever forget ❤️

#oooff this got a but long sorry #i just had a LOT of thoughts and feelings I needed to get out apparently 🙈#mostly good stuff though!!!#i had an absolutely incredible time 😭❤️#arctic monkeys #miles kane #alex tuner #matt helders #nick o'malley #jamie cook #dublin #the car tour #minnie talks

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fivewholeminutes · 4 months

Text

so. wembley.

Once I have finally gathered my wits the words did not want to stop coming. This rambling is long; apologies for that. And for the messed up tenses I hate tenses we only have one past tense why is English like this

No photos/videos yet, they are still not properly checked/deleted/edited by me.

It was. Unsurprisingly. One of the best days of my life. But also, I don't remember much from my life, so don't trust me on this one. (Kidding, it totally WAS one of the best days of my life). And uhh... I have a problem with processing events and emotions, so it still feels like I have seen it on a TV screen instead of, you know, actually, physically having been there? Idk how to explain that, I still have to convince my brain that I've been there. I feel detached from it completely. But!! I!! Have!! Been!! There!!

I woke up so early that foxes were still roaming the streets. Didn't talk much with people around me in the queue (hello anxiety), but they were lovely! I signed the blue flag for iii from me & Lia, got the sticker for Projekt Atlantic, received some bracelets, exchanged some bracelets, put some sea creatures tattoos on people (LIA I FORGOT TO GIVE YOU THE WHALE!!!), slept on a pavement, bought merch for myself and others (I've never had anyone to buy concert merch for before, it's such a nice feeling 🥺).

And queueing for so long was so fucking worth it! Third row, baby!! For the first time in the middle!! (Which was my downfall later, but the pre-show me was not aware of that just yet). I couldn't actually hear HEALTH that well, but I really liked their drummer, he was enjoying himself and his joy was contagious. (I've checked them later though and. Last album, my beloved.) During the break, well, you all know what was happening, I have been liveblogging everything (sorry about that <3). The moment someone in the crowd literally screeched when they saw the new masks on instagram was a blessing, I wouldn't have survived seeing them in new masks without a warning. Also, my blind ass would probably realise 3 songs in that they have different masks, I shit you not. Besides, it was super fun having a mental breakdown here on tumblr with y'all <3

When Espera entered the stage, everything else stopped being of any importance to me. I remember my first thought was "oh yeah, sure, the ladies are dressed up and moving like this and you expect me to focus on anything else that is happening on this stage?". And of course, my second thought was "I GOTTA TAKE PICTURES FOR DARYA". Naturally, I was trying to keep up with everything else anyway. I haven't seen ii all too well though and it makes me sad :( Alas. I've had a good vantage point for the ladies. Yeah. Brain went brrrrr every time I was looking at them. Where was I again-

I was still coughing at that time. I got a terrible coughing fit after literally 3 short screams during HEALTH and my idiot ass has left all the lozenges except one in the hotel room an hour before the door opening. I thought I would have to spend the rest of the night not singing along nor screaming and felt utterly heartbroken for a few minutes, but after my Holy Grail Lozenge (and a LOT of water from the venue's crew) my cough has abandoned me for the duration of the whole ritual (thank you, Sleep). Even though, when Sam told us that we have to sing, my only thought was "I CAN'T FUCKING SING EITHER, MATE". But I did. Oh, I so fucking did. I sung my lungs out and did not cough even ONCE.

But you know. I was exhausted, anxious, surrounded by strangers and had more sugar in my veins than red cells at that point, so I wasn't my best self. I really thought the karaoke was for shits and giggles at first. "Oh yeah, it's The Most Popular Song, let's see how it sounds when 10k people sing it without the singer's help!", you know. Thought it was for the recording the announcements warned us about. But then we sung Granite. Ohhhkay. And then The Love You Want - certainly not a song they would leave for an impropmtu singalong. It was then that I (belatedly) realised that yeah, something really was wrong and so my heart broke again. So many preparations! Their biggest gig so far! Even iii managed to be there! And something had to happen!! Specifically!! To Vessel!! Of all people!! That was just not fair. He totally didn't deserve this. But it's just life and its endless fucking bad surprises for everyone, huh.

I didn't have enough time to collect all the broken pieces of my heart from the sticky floor and mend them after this realisation, because after Vessel joined the singing for the last few lines of TLYW, he dropped to his knees in front of us crying and thanking everyone. That sight is now carved into my brain. This is when I realised the 3rd row was a mistake. The psychic damage it gave me is irrevocable. Do you have those moments that you will never forget? A few seconds of an (usually traumatic) experience that will haunt you forever, replaying in your mind like a broken record? It was a bit like this for me. It wasn't traumatic, mind you, but it was definitely something that made a permanent dent in my heart and a home in my brain. And I wouldn't change it anyway.

Another thing that made me think that I will just fall down and never get up was iii & iv's hug. It was. So full of love and reassurence. Idk, you could just feel that emitting from them, okay? I was standing there thinking "yeah sure, just fucking murder me tonight instead, okay. Should've kept staring at Espera only-". Ah yes. The ladies. Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. Where was I again-

The goosebumps when the whole venue yelled "they won't be missing you" during Nazareth, oh my fucking god. On my previous rituals, in way smaller venues, there's always been a handful of people screaming it. And everyone doing it? Unparalleled feeling. Bordering on the shrimp emotions scale.

The lights were spectacular. I cannot describe how amazing the light show was. I am sending a kiss to each and every light crew member.

Also, Vessel being more emotional during the ritual as a whole. The TLYW moment was the worst for me, but there were many others. (Ascensionism and Bloodsport stabbing me with a rusty knife the most.) I mean, who could've blamed him for the emotions, he would probably be very emotional even without the voice issues. Who wouldn't be!! It was a big night, after all. God, it must have been so difficult for him, I really, really fucking hope the love coming from his bandmates, crew and the crowd was enough to help him focus on the good parts of the evening only. And!! It wasn't even that bad!!! Sure, he lost his voice for a while, but once it was back you could!! Barely!! Hear!! The difference!! I have a whole new level of respect for Vessel because of that. And for staying onstage with us for the songs he couldn't sing. Didn't know I could respect him even more than I already did, but hey. Love being surprised like that. I have seen concerts where the singers were singing way worse live while being completely healthy. Like sure, you could notice he's not using so many uhh, how do you call this in English, vocal ornamentations??? and that his voice is strained, but it was still beautiful. Take care of your voice now though, dude, jfc. Thanks for the sacrifice, much appreciated, but TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF OR SO HELP ME GOD I WILL FUCKING FIND YOU- (kidding, kidding. or am i.) I also liked that he was leaving the more screamy moments in songs for us. Aiming the microphone at us, positive we'll have his back. Like yeah, yeah, other bands do that relatively often, but it's not something they usually do, you know.

I can't vouch for everyone in the crowd, but I sure as fuck did not have a SINGLE thought that the show sucks because of his voice issues. Like it didn't even occur to me. Honest to god. I was shocked when I saw on tumblr that people were leaving? Asking for a refund????????????? I was having the time of my life singing those songs. It was a once-in-a-lifetime experience, probably!! Who can say they karaoked whole 3 songs with the band playing for them live?? Your local karaoke bar could never. (Bonus points, you could hear Espera better bc of that! Yes, I know, you are not supposed to hear backing vocals too loud in general, I'm just saying it was nice hearing them, bc usually I hear them on recordings only.)

Yeah, sure I was disappointed after the show that there was no Euclid, but that's just me, a total whore for Euclid. It's a completely different thing than being a bitch who leaves halfway, because something out of the ordinary has been happening.

Anyways. I would like to wish all the crowdsurfers a very fuck you. Hope you will all step on a lego every day for the rest of your lives <3

Crowdsurfers and constant giving away of water (which I understand, it was terribly hot there and it was needed) were a bit distracting, I missed some things because of the commotion, the drum solo has been disrupted by me getting a (fortunately very light) kick in the mouth and DRUM SOLO IS SACRED. I HOPE THE CROWDSURFER WHO DECIDED TO GO UP IN THAT MOMENT WILL STEP ON 3 LEGOS DAILY. IT'S LITERALLY THE MOST IMPORTANT PART OF THE RITUAL FOR ME AND THEY HAVE RUINED IT. Thanks to another crowdsurfer, I missed the moment the band was throwing stuff into the crowd and I promised Lia I will catch a pick/drumstick for them!!!!!!! I've had a banner for this occassion and all!!!!! And!!!!! For the whole time things were flying from the scene!!!! I have been under someone's legs and ass!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Side note: Vessel was throwing away his rings. That's so fucking cool, ahh.

All in all, half of the things that happened there, I've learned from tumblr. The announcements about the recording, people leaving, Vessel being covered in runes (I WAS STANDING RIGHT BEFORE HIM AND DIDN'T SEE ANYTHING. A N Y T H I N G. I HATE BEING A BLIND IDIOT), the Espera ladies laughing at iii for not coming to the photo, hell, even Vessel trying to get his attention. I have NO idea what I've been doing back then, it's a blur again lmao. And. The most important thing: Vessel's "thank you". I didn't catch it back then. I don't hear it on my recording. Tbh I couldn't believe y'all for a long while that it really happened (I'm sorry). But it did and you know what? I'm glad the broken pieces of my heart were left on the arena's floor earlier during the show. I don't want them anymore.

I would also like to thank that one security guy in huge headphones who was our warning that another fucking crowdsurfer was coming our way. I hope the headphones guy's pillow is always cold on both sides, his skin clear, his crops- and so on. Our hero <3

There was also a moment during Atlantic (another important moment disrupted. Smh) where 2 security persons dived into the crowd?? I still have no idea what was happening, bc if someone faints for example, they are always brught to the barricade by the crowd and security picks them up, I've never seen security getting into the crowd before. And because of that, people around me were talking loudly during Atlantic. Kill kill murder kill

Still, Projekt Atlantic was a huge success and I am so proud of the organisers!! They're in the same category of lovely people as the big headphones security guy

Sending a kiss to @murderofcrow for this gif 🖤

To sum up. I will forever be grateful for this band. This music has activated the dormant parts of my mind. I am making art again. I am meeting cool people because of them. I have people to talk about it with who are as excited about it as I am. For the first time in ages I really feel alive again. And life is not good, far from it, to be completely honest with you, they haven't magically fixed all my problems, but I do have something that actually fucking works on me. I know Vessel wouldn't agree, but they are saving people. And you all, lovely ST pocket of tumblr motherfuckers who are reading this, you are saving people too.

And, last but not least!! In hot pink, because I can! Thanks to this ritual I could finally meet @vesselsscarlet and @thevenomousseprent in person!!!!!!!!! I love you guys, you are amazing and I can't wait to see you again 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 You've made me feel so loved that weekend and it's something I haven't felt in a while!!

#it was surprisingly hard to write #took a lot of editing and rewriting whole paragraphs and it's still not a proper description of everything i wanted to say #i don't know how to talk about emotions #and i have. a lot of them since wembley #a word of advice: attend concerts. beg for money for them from your family members sleep in tents during rain #or in hostel rooms filled with random people #go for gigs without a place to sleep and spend 4hrs waiting for your bus home in a local mcdonalds #watching drunk guys split their eyebrows on the stairs there #(not now tho now we're boycotting macdonalds #but there are other places open 24/7)#go to gigs alone #but by god. go to them if you are able to and if your health allows you to go #(and yes it is coming from someone with anxiety. i wouldn't travel or sleep in a tent alone for anything else trust me)#it is always worth it. ALWAYS #sleep token

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front-facing-pokemon · 3 months

Note

fun thing about heliolisk and helioptile's shinies: they have the exact same color scheme as elecman from the megaman series, which could have been intentional since shiny colors have been manually picked from gen 6 onwards 😳 also they look sunburnt which is funny

wait– been manually picked from gen 6 onwards? were they randomly generated or something beforehand? if that's true then this is. going to change a LOT about how i perceive a lot of shiny pokémon. what an interesting tidbit of information for me to stew on. i hope no one else is killing me about any specific pokémon under the cut

I'M SORRY!!! I'M SORRY. THIS HAPPENS EVERY FUCKING TIME YOU'RE RIGHT TUMBLR USER SYMONYNII. holy shit guys i have made the mistake of dissing clawitzer. i was literally in a discord call with someone while i was queueing it up and they also agreed it was forgettable. i thought because i had confirmation from someone else that i was 100% right but i should NOT HAVE ASSUMED THAT because i am on TUMBLR where everyone likes something. it sounds like i'm mad but i'm not—i'm just slightly proud of the pokémon community for always kicking my ass when i say i don't like a pokémon. means there's always someone out there to have a pokémon that's their favorite. and that's really wonderful. but also holy shit i am sorry

↑ although the nose rater seems to agree with me sorry clawitzer fans

#nose ratings #not pkmn #if shiny colors were like. randomly generated or something early on. that would be interesting #up to gen five though?? that seems like a long time for that to be going on. manually picked from gen 6 onwards… what could this mean

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bordysbae · 1 year

Text

“accidents”

luke hughes x fem!reader

word count: 1.4k

you've been best friends with luke for genuinely as long as you could remember. your moms grew up together, and happened to have kids around the same age. your older brother being in between quinn and jack, and you and luke being the same age. since you and luke are so close, everyone always assumes you two are dating, and honestly sometimes you guys act like it, but you’re both always quick to state that you're just best friends.

currently, you're staying at the hughes' lake house. every summer both of your families stay for a month at the lake house, which is something everyone looks forward to. the lake house has nothing but the purest and happiest memories in it, and it's a second home to you.

"y/n go shower you take 20 years to get ready and we wanna leave soon" jack says as he looks up at you from across the living room. "yeah literally, go!" quinn says as he smacks your arm, pushing you off of the couch playfully

"yeah fine whatever, you're both so annoying" you roll your eyes at them as you head upstairs to the bathroom. you start selecting music on your phone as you wait for the shower to heat up. as you finish making the queue, you see the glass doors become foggy, which is your sign to get in. you're peacefully taking a shower, when all of a sudden you see the white door begin to open, and when your eyes are met with the face of luke hughes, you shriek.

"OH MY GOD LUKE!" you scream, immediately covering your body as he quickly closes the door.

"holy shit!" he says with his hand still on the door knob. you quickly finish up your shower and hurry out of the bathroom. as you're walking to your bedroom, which originally was an office/spare bedroom that quickly became yours over the years, you pass by lukes room. which is right across from yours. you see him laying on his bed, and you softly knock on the door frame. he looks up from his phone, and his cheeks go bright red. "you can uh— you can use the bathroom now" you say awkwardly as you quickly turn around and beeline it straight to your room.

you soon finish your makeup and hair, and quinn starts yelling at you to hurry up as you’re putting on your shoes. "quinn i'm seriously gonna smack you if you keep rushing me, i'm literally putting on my shoes right now"

"please smack him, i'd pay to see that" your brother chimes in, earning a playful tackle from quinn. you stand up from the chair, and adjust the tongue of your shoes. you walk into the kitchen to tell the adults that you're ready, and you accidentally make eye contact with luke. his eyes immediately dart away from yours. never before have things with luke ever been this awkward, but you hate it.

"um? that was weird why are they not talking?" you hear your brother whisper to jack and quinn. "no clue man" quinn whispers back. "that was.. something" jack replies in a whisper like tone. you sigh softly and inform everyone that you're ready to leave.

—

you guys all go out for lunch, and usually whenever you're at this restaurant you and luke order the same thing every time, and end up switching plates halfway through the meal. you always order a sandwich, and luke always gets the pizza. it had become a ritual to swap plates, but this time you guys were on opposite sides of the table instead of next to each other.

you know that everyone is confused on what happened with you two, since you're receiving weird looks from everyone, even the parents. those weird looks are from everyone but luke, he won't look at you. and if he does look at you its for half a second before he looks back down at the ground.

you hate this feeling more than anything. you and luke have gotten in fights before, but at least you knew his emotions during those times. right now, you have no idea how he feels and it's eating you alive. after what felt like a million years, everyone is finally finished and ready to go back to the house. as you're rising up from the table, your mom whispers in your ear.

"are you and luke okay?" "i don't know mom. i hate this" you sigh. "come in the car with me and ellen, we'll force all of the boys to fit in jim's car.” you chuckle, "okay"

you all get situated in the cars, and you're with ellen and your mom. "so honey, what happened?" ellen asks, as she looks at you through the rear-view mirror. "god, it's so embarrassing" you say as your cheeks get really hot from the memory.

"just tell us, we're woman we understand" ellen smiles. “well, luke walked in on me in the shower today. i have no idea what he saw, but we haven't talked since."

"oh my" your mom says, holding back a laugh. “oh lord that is not what i was expecting. okay well, he's probably a little overwhelmed. especially since it's you, y/n. you're his best friend. he probably feels like he just violated you. i think you guys need to talk, because this isn’t something that you guys should lose a friendship over" ellen says

"i agree, luke's a teenage boy. he's probably pissing his pants just thinking about it. you should talk to him, let him know that's it's okay" your mom says. "ugh you guys are the best, i'll talk to him when we get home" you smile softly

—

you guys all get home at the same time, and you decide now is the perfect time to talk with luke. he’s cleaning his room, while the other boys are playing chel. you knock on his door frame to let him know you’re there, and he turns around and gets bright red when he sees you. "oh, uh- uh, hey y/n" he stutters

"can i come in?" you say quietly. "yeah of course, come sit" he says, sitting down on the edge of his bed, patting the spot next to him.

"luke, about earlier i-" "i'm sorry" you both say at the same time

"why are you sorry?" he asks you. "i don't know, i just am" you shrug. "i'm really sorry. i thought jack was in the shower, and i was just gonna grab my deodorant off of the counter, but it uh- it wasn't jack. i knocked and asked if i could come in, and i heard music that sounded like jacks playlist so i thought it was him" he says quickly, defending himself

"luke relax it's alright, but i do have one question. did you um- see anything?" you say scratching the back of your neck. "no i didn't, i closed my eyes as soon as i opened the door" he lied. he definitely saw something, but he didn't want to make you feel anymore embarrassed than you already were, he felt bad enough as is.

"oh alright good." there's a strange silence between you both, which is broken when luke impulsively blurts out, “y/n i like you, a lot. i've liked you since like 8th grade, and i just really need to know if you feel the same"

"oh luke of course i do." you say, with a blush creeping on your cheeks. "you do?" he says, finally looking up at you, with a beaming smile. "yeah, i've liked you for awhile now" you say, looking into his eyes. and before you know it your lips are on his, and your heart feels like it's sparking.

"so what does this make us?" you ask quietly pulling away from the kiss. "my girlfriend?" he asks you. "absolutely" you smirk

"okay now that that's out of the way, i did see something earlier i just didn't want to tell you" he blurted, causing your mouth to fall agape. "i mean, that's not really how i expected it to happen" he chuckles

"woah woah woah, you've imagined how you were gonna see me naked for the first time? you are SO weird luke" you say smacking his chest playfully. "shut up, you know you've imagined me naked before"

you couldn't lie, you had.

"exactly, stay silent." "oh shut up you horn dog, now let's go play chel" you say taking his hand leading him downstairs

#luke hughes #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes blurb #jack hughes #quinn hughes #hockey blurb #hockey imagine #michigan hockey #umich hockey

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lemondemonpickuplines · 2 months

Text

you, yes YOU could become the next greatest LD pickup artist! that is, if you have a couple free minutes and are a fucking loser. just like me! submit your pickup lines today!

to jumpstart your beautiful and creative minds, I've made a list of songs that are yet to have a line under the cutoff. Remember, though, we're only Lemon Demon in name - you're also welcome to post about a Mouth song, a YouTube video, or anything else that speaks to you and that Neil Cicierega is a part of. GOOD LUCK!

Error

Bowling Alley

Wrong

Hazel's Modus Operandi

Idiot Control Now

Pepper and Salt

Holy Bison Beaks

Fire Motif

Elsewhere

Hydroelectric Viking

The Saga of You

Mr Wolfgang

Destructo

Fly Straight

Oz Explodes

Booja Jabooja

Chu Chu Rocket

Switzerland**

Birdhouse In Your Soul

Mold en Mono

What's In The Toaster

Sunbeam Light Show Flower Seed

Musical Chairs

Matches and Nails**

Relativity

Fancy Pants Manifesto

Go To Hollywood

Sick Puppy**

Almond

Bad Idea

Behold the FUTURE

Not Applicable

Roman Robot Statues

Run, Harry, Run

Take a Picture

There's a Robot in My Head

Dead Sea Monkeys

What Will Happen Will Happen

Subtle Oddities

Gonna Dig up Alec Guinness**

Smell Like a Cookie All Day

Eventuality

March of the Living Figments

Lollipops

Bicycle Race

Fuzzy

Bottom Line

Sky Blue Up

I Want to Wake Up

Stampy

Zero Gravity

Mothers All Over the World

Pirate in a Box

How To Poop

Neil.soul

Dinosaurchestra Part One

Archaeopteryx**

This Hyper World

The Too Much Song

Stick Stickly

Princess Unicorn Bunny Kitten Angel

Abraham Lincoln's Head

Funniest

Snakes On a Plane

Turkeys

Kaleidoskull

Gadzooks**

The Afternoon**

Nightmare Fuel

The Wiggles Hate Each Other In Real Life

You Got a Toothache

320x200

Strangelet

Today's Secret Word

While My Keytar Gently Weeps

Treasure Map

Creepy

Super Hey Ya

Prelude to Presents

Spiral of Ants

Geocities

Angelfire

Gravitron

Moon's Request

Cat Hacks

Kubrick and the Beast

WIERDNESS

Everybody Likes You

Christmas Dog

Clark Kent

Degrassi

eBaum's World Dot Com

Fly Away

Happiest Shit Ever

Sorry For the Text Posts

Experiments in VOPM

Happy Songs

Hydoelectric Viking Funeral

It's Gonna Get Weird

Illemonama Polkarama

Magic Dance

MyNewSong

Pokerap

Prince Ali

Robo

Vanilla

Wiry Song

Wolfden Radio

Yellowfish

Zip-up Rap

**the songs with asterisks may or may not already have lines. my blog is old enough now that I struggle to comb through the whole thing, and tagging isn't always perfect. don't worry about re-using a song, though; as long as it's not an egregious duplication of an existing post, you're alright.

also, I only post every few days, so forgive me if it takes a while to get to your submission. sometimes I don't post lines until months after they've been sent in, so if you've submitted and I haven't posted, it may just be lost in my ass-long queue. or i just don't think it's very good. but you have no way of knowing, do you.

#lemon demon #neil cicierega #not pickup lines

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