#thanks for the ask <3 and thanks for helping me remember this fic lol

[hailsatanacab]

I'll ask after that secret number 8!

I only remembered secret number 8 because I saw your wip here! I'd started this one based on the same prompt, then lost said prompt and stopped working on it 😅

Instead of a snippet, I'm just dropping it all here - maybe that way I'll feel inspired to finish it?

———

It’s a full house for dinner tonight and, really, that should have tipped him off.

Bruce sits at the head of the table, smiling softly as he watches over everyone’s antics. Damian is regaling Dick with everything they saw at the zoo that day (Danny had been so happy to see Delilah the purpleback gorilla again, and her new little additions to the troupe, too!) and how well they are implementing the grant the Wayne Foundation had gifted them. Tim, Steph, Cass, and Duke are all engaged in a thumb-war tournament which Danny has no interest in participating in. It just wouldn’t be fair on them.

Danny loves that look. The one where Bruce’s eyes crinkle when he thinks none of the kids can see him. It oozes love and it makes Danny’s heart, his core, ache. 

It’s been a little over a year since Alfred found him on the street and managed to wrangle him back to the manor to stay—even after the whole biting thing when he realised how rich they were. 

A little over a year here and Danny’s starting to feel like family.

Starting to feel like he might, just maybe, like to make it official.

“Danny,” Bruce says, drawing everyone’s attention. Danny starts at his name, but Bruce’s voice is warm and calm, and his shoulders lose their tension almost immediately. “Danny, I have something I would like to tell you.”

“Uhhh…” is all Danny can croak out, eyes flicking back and forth between Bruce and the rest of them. Smooth. Looking good, Danny.

Except… they’re all happy. All smiles, all relaxed body language, all radiating calm and love and acceptance. Well, not Damian—his face is as thunderous as it always is—which at least means it’s nothing too out of the ordinary.

“Danny, first of all, I just want to impress upon you that this is in no way something you have to do. You are under no obligation to join us and, no matter what, you shall always be welcome with us in the manor.”

Wait, what? Danny squints at Bruce, trying to parse exactly what he’s saying… Is he—is this them asking to adopt him? Do they want to make it official, too? 

It’s been a little over a year and of course Danny has imagined calling Bruce ‘Dad’. Of course he’s imagined being part of the family, of course he wants to make it official!

He can’t help the beaming grin or the bright and bubbling “Yes!” already waiting on his lips. All Bruce has to do is ask, all Danny needs to hear is—

“I’m Batman.”

The smile freezes on Danny’s face.

His lungs stop working, his heart stops working, he stops working, he just—

“And I’m Nightwing,” Dick smiles, breaking the awkward silence. 

Danny’s eyes snap to him, and then down to Tim when he admits to being Red Robin. Duke is Signal, Steph is Spoiler. Damian begrudgingly tells him he’s Robin, but Danny can barely hear it over the ringing in his ears.

“I’m Black Bat.” Cass cocks her head, almost looking concerned. It always felt like she understood him the most. Whenever he was feeling low, too in his memories, or stewing after a nightmare, she was always there, ready to card her fingers through his hair and never mention his tears. It makes his heart ache to think of it now. “It’s okay, Danny.”

It’s meant to be reassuring, but how—how can it be okay? How? 

Danny’s spent a little over a year with them. A little over a year with Batman. 

Batman, who works with the Justice League, who works with…

A little over a year. 

Just under 16 months since he escaped.

“Danny? Are you alright?” Bruce asks

Finally, his lungs kickstart and suck in a shuddering breath, only for everyone to drop their smiles.

Didn’t take them long, did it? Now that their ruse is up, there’s no kindness in their eyes, they’re just… cold, calculating. Evaluating. 

“Why?” Danny gasps, his fingers tingling, his heart in his throat.

Just under 16 months since he—has he escaped? Or was this just another one of their experiments?

"I... I trusted you, why—" Danny chokes back a sob, gritting his teeth as his shoulders shake. Why? Why would they do this? "I was happy here, with you. I thought... Weren't you happy?"

"Danny..." Bruce is looking at him, eyes narrow and eyebrows pinched, in some cruel facsimile of confused concern and all Danny can think is how much of an actor he is. How well he can play the part of a doting father. How much he made him want that.

"I don't understand, why..." 

"I'm sorry we didn't tell you before, I can imagine that it comes as a shock. We shouldn't have lied to you, Danny, but—"

"Stop it!" Danny slams his hands down on the table and pushes himself up on wobbly legs. Even standing, he feels so small. Smaller than Bruce, than all of his adopted siblings. They crowd above him when they all stand, too. "Just stop it! Why are you doing this, why are you still pretending? Stop it!"

It was easier, with Danny's biological parents. The knowledge that they'd do anything to get him on a lab table, to open him up and see what makes him tick, to rip him apart molecule by molecule, had always been there. He knew they hated ghosts. He knew they hated Phantom. He knew they hated him. It was easier because it was something he'd known all his life. When he died, when he became a ghost, he knew what to expect from them. It hurt, of course it did.

But it was easier than this.

"Danny, I'm going to need you to take a deep breath. You're having a panic attack and you need to breathe."

"Breathe?" Danny laughs, the sound harsh and choking, too high pitched in his hysteria. "You're joking, right? Or is this just more of the—the experiment?"

"Danny, please, we don't know what you're talking about, you—"

"You don't know? You're Batman! You work with the Justice League, you work with—" His words choke off as his stomach churns, bile rising in his throat. His whole body itches, screaming at him to leave, he can't go back, he can't, he can't, he can't!

Bruce takes a hesitant step forward and Danny scrambles back, his feet catching on the chair behind him and sending him careening to the floor. Where are the agents? Why aren't they swarming in, ready to apprehend him, strap him back on the table, carve him from the inside out.

"Please, Danny, calm down. We don't—"

Danny stops listening. His back hits the wall and he pulls his knees into his chest, his shoulders dipping down as he begins to sob. His heart throbs inside his throat, too painful to swallow around. Tears fall hot and heavy on his face.

Sure, he could run. He could phase out through the wall and he could be out of Gotham in a couple of hours. He's escaped the GIW once, he can do it again.

But that was before Batman knew who he was. Before he had the World's Greatest Detective on his tail.

Before he... 

He really thought this would be different, you know?

He wanted to make it official.

"Why did... Why were you so nice to me? Why did you make me like you? I really—I really liked you. I-I thought we could be a family."

"Danny, we are a—"

"Don't lie to me!" Danny snaps, but the force of his anger leeches all the fight from him, and suddenly all that's left is a bone-weary tiredness. There’s a lump in his throat that hurts. There’s a line down his chest that burns. "I don't care. I don't care anymore, I don't. Just... don't make me go back there. Please." 

Is it futile? He thought he knew how the GIW operated by now, the depths that they would go to achieve their results, but this... this was a whole new level of pain that Danny thought he had left behind him in Amity.

"We're not going to make you go anywhere, Danny, you're safe here, I promise."

"Safe? Safe? You must have—" he takes a deep breath, tries to stop the quivering of his voice. It’s all starting to make sense, now.  "The reason you're telling me who you are is because you must have told them everything already. I know the Justice League—I know you're working with them, which means the ex-experiment is over now, and they're coming to take me back. And I can't go back."

"Danny—"

"I can’t!” Danny glares at Bruce with all the rage he can, fingernails digging into his skin. “I’m not going back!"

"That's right, you're not going back, Danny. I won't let that happen." Bruce crouches down in front of Danny, his hands open and raised as if he's trying to say he's not a threat. "I don't know who you're talking about, and I'm sorry about that, but I can promise you that you’re not going back there. We will keep you safe."

Danny pulls himself closer, tucks himself further into the wall, eyes flickering all across the room waiting for that tell-tale flash of white as the agents start to swarm.

He should take his chances now and run, he should go, he needs to go!

The rest of them, his brothers and sisters of a little over a year, are spread out, giving him and Bruce some space. The same concern colours all of their faces. Why are they still pretending?

Steph is chewing on her thumb. 

Danny liked Steph and her brash confidence, her jokes. She's been promising to paint his nails for months now, they've just never found the time. He was going to go for green and black, or maybe a galaxy theme, depending on what she felt comfortable doing.

He likes them all.

"You were supposed to be my family." His mouth turns down at the corners and his voice shakes like a child. "You were supposed to—why? Why would you—I don't understand why you would make me like you..."

"This isn't an experiment, Danny," Bruce's voice is steady, soothing. "I promise."

"But you work with them and—"

"Who do I work with?"

"The Justice League."

"Yes, I do, but we—"

"And the Justice League works with them. The GIW." Danny trembles with the name, clutching tightly onto his hoodie. "I'm not going back there, Bruce."

Danny doesn't miss Bruce's look over his shoulder, nor Tim's nod in return. Tim turns slightly to the side to hide his movements, but Danny bets he has his phone in his hand, probably letting them know they can take him now. Guess this is it, then. They'll be here soon, and he'll be gone.

"Kill me."

"Danny? What do—"

"If you ever had any kindness for me, if you ever cared, kill me. Please, Bruce. I can't do it again."

"Danny..."

"End me now. Take my core out and break it, please, before they get here."

#dpxdc #dcxdp #dpxdc fanfic #wip game #thanks for the ask <3 and thanks for helping me remember this fic lol #also huge thanks for having the prompt linked because i have S O M A N Y prompt wips that i can't ever post because i've lost the post #didn't really know how to get danny to calm down #that's a lie #i have a few ideas of where this can go but no motivation for it - not against all the other wips #i'll keep at it and ig post to ao3 should it actually start looking alright #¯\_(ツ)_/¯ #dudes did u kno u can pin shit to your clipboard on desktop because i fucking love that #also if you use the windows key + . there's like emojis and shit #(((φ(◎ロ◎;)φ))) #<- and kaomoji too!!!!! #anyway that's been fun facts and fanfic with me. ur welcome #oh shit my writing tag #hailsatanacrab🦀🦀writes #at some point 'oh shit my writing tag' will just become my writing tag #anyway thank you again for the ask #good night everyone!!!!!

[coco-loco-nut]

Hii!

Can I please ask for an angsty fic with Max, where the reader defends him from Jos after not finishing his race in Melbourne...idk if you remember when Max kept his helmet for four hours after a race because he was afraid of what Jos would have done to him after not winning...and the reader basically tells Jos to get lost even if she's like 5'4 and definitely not as intimidating as them both lol.

And then maybe after the win in Suzuka, they "reconcile" but she still reminds him to act right around her boyfriend, who's now a man and not a little boy he could pressure like he once did.

Sorry if it's too long!! Thanks for taking your time and reading my request!

Guard Dog

Pairing: Max x Reader

Summary: You are sick and tired of watching Max take Jos' shit

TW: verbal abuse

A/n: thank you soooo much for the rec, I love writing these out so much <3

requests open masterlist

----------------

"Maxie... are you okay?" you wait patiently by the door to his driver's room, careful not to barge in like Jos would, as you have for the past year since you first witnessed Jos' beratement of his son. He is sitting on the couch with his helmet between his hands. The fire causing an unpleasant start to the race, and you are just glad you got here first.

"I'm okay," his voice cracks and you step into the room, closing the door behind you. "I know it wasn't my fault, but I can't help but feel like it was my fault," Max looks in your eyes, the fire brewing behind them. You were genuinely the sweetest girl he's ever met, and to get you mad took a lot. God help you if Jos shows up, you are tired of Max feeling bad even when he podiums.

"You're right, you didn't do anything wrong, the car failed you today," you stay calm, sitting beside him and cuddling into him. Max stays quiet, enjoying your warmth, and decompressing from the start. He can understand why the fans were so happy to see him lose, in fact, if he wasn't himself, he would join them. No, the fear of his father is what has him on edge. Rightfully so, because a few seconds later the door is slammed open again.

"Max, what the hell did you-" Jos starts and you launch yourself off the couch. Jos and Max were big guys, and you were average height for a woman, 5'6 or so, but you didn't seem like it in that moment.

"Shut the hell up and leave. You have nothing useful to say and you are going to shift blame to Max who had NO fault in the DNF," you snarl, setting yourself up as a barrier between the two, Jos still in the doorway and Max on the couch.

"Girl, I don't know who you think you are, but I am Max's father, and I can-," You cut Jos off before he can continue.

"No, you aren't his father. A father doesn't talk to his son like that, you are simply a man who shares the same last name as Max. A father is someone like Carlos Sainz Sr or Lawrence Stroll. No, you are a man- sorry a boy in a man's body- who can't cope with the fact that he doesn't race anymore and wants the man who shares the same last name with him to be impossibly perfect and win every single race, even when the car breaks down." You sneer at the man. "You need to leave, before I call security and make them remove you," you don't back down, instead you step closer. Max watches in both awe and fear.

"I-"

"Leave, Jos, now. Don't make me repeat myself," you say, practically slamming the door behind him. You turn around and look at Max, seemingly calm and normal. He looks at you bewildered.

"That was the sexiest thing ever. Thank you, Schatje, you didn't have to do that," Max hugs you, a large weight off of his shoulders.

"Of course I did, who else will be your guard dog?" You smile at him, squeezing him tighter. "Now, get changed and get back to the garage," you tell Max, stepping out to the room. You let out a deep breath, surprised with how you treated Jos and stood up for Max. A couple minutes later, Max rejoins you, quickly stopping inside hospitality for a snack.

The two of you avoid Jos, going extremely low contact, not that he was trying to. Jos would never admit it, but he was embarrassed at how you spoke to him, and his retreat allowed him to ignore it. Instead, you and Max enjoyed your time together in Japan. The both of you were aware Jos was there, but chose to ignore it. After Max won, Jos warily approached the two of you.

"I wanted to congratulate you on winning. You drove well," Jos says stiffly, silently calling for a truce. You let Max take the lead on the conversation.

"Thank you," he says, feeling like a little boy again, but accepting the temporary truce.

"It was good seeing you Jos, but we need to go," you interject, sensing the still tense atmosphere. The older man, still a little scared of you despite your sweet demeanor, lets you go, not quite willing to cross you again.

"Love you, Maxie"

"Love you too, Schatje,"

#f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 imagines #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagines #max verstappen #i hate jos verstappen

[pinksturniolo]

Ok, I have this amazing idea for a good smutty smutty fic!

Your bring Matt home for the first time to meet your family (parents and siblings) and you guys get board of just sitting there so you decide to go downstairs into the basement that has a ping pong table and pool table. You decide to play pool and Matt gets turned on by the way you bend over the table and hit the ball (if that make sense lol) and then you guys ykw on the pool table while your family is upstairs.

8 Ball - Matt Sturniolo Blurb

wow that’s a really good prompt lol thank you anon!! hope you enjoy it <3

content warnings: smut, raw sex, sneaking around, etc.

a/n: i don’t know too much about pool so sorry if the explanation of the game is weird 💀

Matt puts a hand on your thigh under the table, giving a reassuring squeeze. Your leg has been bouncing nonstop with nervousness for the past 5 minutes since you guys have arrived. You smile at him, holding his hand and he winks at you, continuing the conversation with your parents while they ask him about work.

You and Matt drove down to Plymouth over the weekend so he could meet your parents and siblings for the first time. You were from Boston like Matt, but your family had a vacation home on the coast, and it was a summer tradition to spend time here, enjoying the beach and sunshine.

You had recently hit the 6 month mark of the relationship, things starting to get more serious between you two. Just last month, you had met his parents which was terrifying but went really well. Which is why you’re not sure how you were so nervous about him meeting yours, but Matt has been nothing but supportive, always finding ways to keep you calm.

The rest of the night goes great, lots of laughter being shared while everyone eats dinner and by the time desert comes out, you’re starting to feel a little bored with socializing and slightly tipsy from the bottle of wine you and Matt split.

Matt takes notice from the way you stopped engaging in the conversations, a small yawn escaping your mouth as you draw mindless circles on his arm. His hand is rested on your thigh again, his thumb rubbing back and forth over your bare skin.

He loved when you wore sundresses, not only because you looked so good in them, but also because it showed off your smooth long legs which he was obsessed with running his hands over, and pressing his lips to the soft plush of your inner thighs. Not to mention the easy access, the way he could just lift the dress up when he was behind you and pull your panties down, slipping his cock inside you with ease.

“Matt.” you whisper in his ear, breaking him out of his thoughts. “You wanna go somewhere? I’m so bored.”

Everyone seems preoccupied in their own conversations, having already asked Matt every possible question they could. He nods and rubs your shoulder, setting his napkin on his plate. “Sure baby.”

You both excuse yourselves from the table and an idea pops into your head as you lead Matt inside the house, to the game room downstairs.

“Remember how you said you wanted to teach me to play pool?” you ask him, a playful smile on your face as you grab his hand, walking down the staircase.

“No way. You guys have a pool table?” he says.

“Yup. And a ping pong table. And shuffleboard.” you reply and he laughs, thrusting his fist in the air cheerfully as you enter the game room, the large felt green table in the center.

He closes the door behind him as you walk up to the table, grabbing the pool stick. The balls are already arranged in the middle as you remove the holder and stand at the side, awkwardly holding it.

Matt tries to hide his laugh as he watches you attempt to figure out the right way to hit the ball, missing each time as the stick slips through your fingers.

“Uh, a little help here please?” You ask, looking at him with frustration when he finally moves towards you, chuckling as he takes the pool stick from you.

“You gotta hold it the right way sweetheart. Here, let me show you.” he says, standing behind you now and placing the stick back in your hand. He places his hand on your back, softly pushing you forward so you bend over the table.

He leans over you and helps you position your hand correctly, the end of the stick slotting between your fingers. Then he angles your elbow on your other arm, speaking into your ear, his warm breath on your neck.

The feeling of your ass pressed against his crotch gets his blood pumping, and it takes everything in him to not grind himself against you to relieve some of the tension in his jeans.

“Okay, now you’re good. Go ahead baby.” he says.

He stand us straight as you hit the balls, the stick gliding easily through your fingers now. You smile widely and turn around to hug him quickly, now eager to start the game.

However, it’s not even halfway through before Matt is losing his self control, watching you bend over each time it’s your turn. Your dress rides up, showing him your ass cheeks and getting a peek of your baby pink underwear. He’s not even trying to win, hitting the ball lazily, keeping his eyes on you and how good you look.

Matt has been nothing but respectful since arriving in your parent’s vacation home but right now all he can think about is bending you over the table, snatching your dress up and having his way with you.

It’s your turn once more when you feel Matt suddenly push up against you, running his large hands down your back and leaning down to press soft kisses on your bare shoulder.

“Matt… what are you doing?” You whine, unable to help the way you sigh as you feel his lips suck lightly on your neck.

He doesn’t answer, instead he trails his mouth down the nape of your neck and the back of your shoulders, leaving goosebumps on your skin. His hands are all over you, gripping your hips as he presses his hardness against your ass, grinding onto you.

“Fuck…” you breathe out, feeling yourself getting increasingly wet from the way he’s touching and kissing you. Matt hums against your skin, lifting up your dress and yanking your underwear down.

“Baby! Don’t you want to finish the game?” you yelp in shock. “Fuck the game.” he responds and runs his fingers through your pussy, spreading your arousal and reaching down to rub your clit.

You moan loudly and he grips your neck with his other hand, leaning his head down to whisper in your ear. “You can’t be loud, sweetheart. Save that for later. Right now, I need you to be a good girl and stay quiet for me. Okay?”

You nod, and he wastes no time unzipping his jeans and pulling his painfully hard dick out of his boxers, rubbing it through your folds a few times before pushing himself inside you.

You grip onto the edge of the table, arching your back and biting into your bottom lip to keep the moans in that threaten to spill from your mouth.

“Shit baby… always so fucking tight for me…” He groans, throwing his head back and gripping your hips tightly, your dress still bunched up around your waist as he thrusts into you at a good pace, his balls clapping against your skin.

Your heart races at the fear that you both could be caught any second, Matt fucking you while you’re bent over the pool table. But it feels way too good to stop and you have every intention of cumming around his cock before you leave this room.

Matt’s panting and groaning as quietly as he can behind you, his hips slamming into yours. You let him take complete control, your ass bouncing against him with each thrust.

Your little whimpers and muffled moans have him throbbing inside you, sweat building on his forehead as he’s already getting close from the quick pace he’s been keeping.

“Fuck Matt, I’m so close. You feel so fucking good.” you breathe out, feeling yourself clench around him, wetness dripping down your thighs.

He suddenly flips you around and picks your hips up so you’re on top of the table now. You gasp and throw your arms around his neck as he thrusts himself back into you at an unforgiving pace.

“I wanna see your pretty face when you cum baby.” he says, one arm around you, holding you close while he reaches down with his other hand, massaging fast circles on your clit.

You moan against his mouth, your fingers in a death grip on his hair as you feel your legs shake around his hips, your orgasm hitting you. He cums shortly after, releasing inside you, his thrusts now stuttered and uneven.

You both struggle to catch your breath, panting against each other as he finally pulls out, kissing you sweetly.

“Why do I get the feeling this was apart of your plan all along huh? You knew what you were doing pushing your ass out like that.” Matt says, a smirk on his face as he tucks himself back into his pants.

You pull your underwear back on, a playful look in your eyes. “I just knew I had to get you in here once I remembered we had a pool table.” You admit and he laughs, grabbing your hand to help you off. “Naughty girl.”

taglist <3

@sturniolopepsi @junnniiieee07 @whicked-hazlatwhore @tillies33ssss @riasturns @christhopersturniolo @sturnsjtop @seahorsie11 @inveigledvex @honestlyjb @mattslolita @certifiednatelover @glassesmattsbae @eryismum @sturncakez @sturnioloco @wh0resstuff @ribread03

#sturniolo triplets #sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo oneshots #arisanons #matt sturniolo blurb

[campingwiththecharmings]

hellooooo!! congrats on the one year anniversary<3<3

could I request “how mad would you be if i kissed you?” with poe?

(thank you for doing this event!!!!)

All Your Fault

AN: OMG IT'S A FIC-AVERSAY REQUEST!! lol Told y'all I was still gonna answer all of these! That said, I'm betting you probably don't even remember sending this lmao but I hope you can still enjoy it all the same though. Thanks for your patience 💖

(Un-beta’d)

Rated: T Words: 1,068 Pairing: Poe Dameron x Reader (written with f!reader in mind but I'm pretty sure this could be read as GN. please correct me if that's wrong) Warnings: kissing, arguing...nothing else I can think of (please let me know if I missed something) AO3

——————

Commander Poe Dameron is, quite literally, the bane of your existence.  

Sure, he’s a great pilot and, okay fine, he’s not a terrible leader but, damn it if the bastard doesn’t drive you absolutely crazy with his needlessly risky plans. You’re not sure if he has a death wish or if he’s just an adrenaline junky, but what you do know is that if the storm troopers chasing you don’t kill him, you just might. 

You run down the narrow hallway of the First Order compound you’ve infiltrated, Dameron in tow, desperately searching for an escape. You spot a door, thank the Maker when it’s unlocked, and pull Dameron inside with you by the lapels of his jacket, glaring at him when he opens his mouth to complain. 

“Shut up,” you whisper harshly, pushing him against the back of the door. 

He watches you in the dim light for a moment, lips parted, breath leaving him in pants. Your eyes drop to his mouth, lingering longer than you’d like, and you wonder briefly if they’re as soft as they look, how they’d feel against yours, how they’d taste— 

Okay fine, so you’re a little attracted to him. That didn’t mean he didn’t still infuriate the hell out of you. 

The thundering of boots crescendos outside the door, (blessedly) breaking you from your staring contest with his mouth. Still pressed against Poe, you swallow thickly, your face warm as you forcibly avert your gaze. Your eyes land on his neck, and you have to ignore the sudden urge you feel to lick the bead of sweat running slowly down the side of it. 

You’re both still as the troopers pass, as if making even the tiniest movement might alert them to your presence. Poe is still breathing a little heavy, the air puffing against your cheek just another reminder of his closeness. You try to ignore it, ignore him, ignore how good his body feels against yours, how amazing he smells. In an effort to stave off the sudden urge you have to bury your face in his neck and breathe deep, you think of literally anything else: your bunkmate’s dirty socks, General Leia screaming at you, taking a blaster bolt to the shoulder— 

The sound of the troopers fades slowly and you breathe a quiet sigh of relief, backing up as much as you can in the small space.  

“That was a close one, huh?” Poe mutters, looking at you warily, as if you might attack him at any given moment. 

Your anger at him rekindles in your chest at the comment and you can’t stop yourself from punching him in the shoulder. He grunts, glaring at you half-heartedly as he rubs the spot where you hit him. 

“No, Dameron, that was stupid. Completely and utterly stupid,” you quietly scold, pointing at him in accusation. 

He scoffs, almost rolling his eyes and it sends another flare of anger through you.  

“Oh, you don’t think so?” you counter, stepping closer to him. “You think your little stunt helped us?” 

He glares at you, leaning back against the door with an annoyed look on his face. “We got what we came for, didn’t we?” 

“Yes, and we’d be out of here and on the ship right now if you’d just followed the plan.” 

“You mean followed your plan,” he mumbles almost petulantly. 

“Is that what this is about?” you ask, chuckling humorlessly as you take another step closer. “Still sore that the General went with my plan instead of yours, flyboy?” 

His jaw tightens and he moves even closer, his voice so low it’s almost a growl. “Your plan is the reason I even had to pull that ‘stunt’ in the first place, sweetheart.” 

It’s your turn to scoff now, rage flaring in your eyes as you move so close to him his chest brushes against yours. You ignore how incredible he smells, even after all the running you’ve done, ignore how good he looks this close— 

“You are unbelievable, do you know that? Absolutely unbelievable.” 

Poe opens his mouth to retort, a mischievous look in his eyes, but you cut him off by continuing, your voice a harsh whisper. “You’re reckless, hot-headed, impulsive—” 

His finger on your lips stops you, your eyes widening in both shock and rage. 

Unfortunately, you’re silent long enough for him to ask, “How mad would you be if I kissed you right now?” 

Your brow furrowing in confusion, lips parting as much as they can with his finger still pressed against them. Instinctively, your gaze falls to his mouth, eyes dragging over his plump bottom lip as your brain reminds you of all the times you’ve fantasized about a moment just like this one. You watch as the corner of his mouth quirks slightly in a smile and know you’ve somehow given him all the permission he needs. 

He leans in, spanning the meager distance between you as he pulls his hand away, tentatively pressing his lips to yours. He’s giving you a chance to push him away, you realize, to decide you don’t want this but…You do.  

You melt into him, pressing your body against his and pushing him back against the door. He groans softly, the sound going straight to your core and you wonder what else you could do to pull sounds like that from him.  

You hope he gives you a chance to find out. 

His hands cup your cheeks, holding you in place as he presses his tongue against the seam of your lips. You part them without resistance, shivering when he licks inside. The taste of him is divine, a mix of sweetness and spice and something so inherently Poe. You could spend hours, maybe even days, like this, just kissing him, enjoying the taste of him, the feel of him. Already you can’t get enough, can feel your need for him clawing at the base of your spine as your fingers plunge into his soft, dark locks.  

You’re forced to break for air, foreheads pressed together as you both try to catch your breath. 

“This isn’t over, you know,” you pant, pulling back to shoot him what you hope is a stern look. 

He chuckles breathlessly, reaching out to trace the curve of your cheek with his knuckles, his lips quirking slightly when you unconsciously lean into the touch.  

“I’d be disappointed if it was, sweetheart.”

If you enjoyed this, please let me know! I appreciate every single reblog and/or comment. Thank you. 💖

🌟 Masterlist 🌟 fic-aversary masterlist 🌟

i am no longer doing a taglist. please follow @charmingupdates for updates and turn on notifications.

#my fic #fic-aversary celebration #poe dameron x you #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron fic #poe dameron fanfiction #poe dameron reader insert #starwarsficnetwork

[angelicdanvers]

BREATHE DEEPER | four.

a charlie bushnell x fem!reader social media fic.

y/n

liked by iamcharliebushnell, levizmiller, dior.n.goodjohn, and others

y/n — australia’s my new fav country

tagged | levizmiller

levizmiller i’m challenging you to another round of pool tonight ↳ y/n bet

iamcharliebushnell when’d you go to australia? 😭 ↳ y/n when u didn’t show up for acai bowls >:( ↳ iamcharliebushnell im sowwy ↳ y/n DONT YOU DARE ↳ iamcharliebushnell okok sorry but thought you'd be in london ↳ y/n soon, yeah :')

levizmiller y/n im gonna poke you ↳ y/n okayy hi ↳ levizmiller let’s get boba ↳ y/n YES

dior.n.goodjohn I MISS U COME BACK TO ME ↳ y/n once my australian chronicles are over i promise i will <3 ↳ dior.n.goodjohn WOOOO

walker.scobell youre pretty! ↳ y/n thanks lil dude!

i.am.andrewalvarez AUSSIEEE ↳ y/n THE SWEET ESCAPE FR

aryansimhadri DID YOU SEE KANGAROOS ↳ y/n NO NOT YET THOUGH I HOPE I DO

dailymail Y/n and Levi? ;)

user omg bf reveal happening??

user2 ive never held my breath this much

“GALILEO’S GALS” — 5 notifications!

chanel’s enemy Y/N

lee lee Y/N

dr dre why am i in this gc

chanel’s enemy because u are

lee lee we’re getting off topic Y/NNN CMERE

↳ hiiiii?

chanel’s enemy HIIII HRU ILY

↳ ILY TOO BAE IM GOOD WBU

chanel’s enemy WE GOOD WE HAVE SOME ?’s THO

↳ oh?

lee lee ARE YOU AND LEVI DATING

dr dre OHH THIS MAKES SENSE YEAH ARE YOU??

↳ nooooo

chanel’s enemy that’s a very interesting no

↳ we’re not but idk

chanel’s enemy what

lee lee girl wdym

↳ we’re not dating but i think he likes me? idk

dr dre do you like him back though???

↳ eh he’s very sweet but i’ve always seen him as a best friend, i don’t think we could be more

lee lee do you want to be more??

↳ i mean, i’d give him a chance if he asked? but it’s not anything i’m particularly into or wanting

chanel’s enemy okay that helps

↳ uhhh why

dr dre well if my sleepy ass remembers correctly, everyone and their mother are wondering if you’re dating

↳ nah that aint possible

lee lee it is, stupid dailymail picked up on it first 💀

↳ my manager’s asleep, no wonder she hasn’t updated me lol oh well idgaf they can think what they want

chanel’s enemy but even walker and charlie are 😭

↳ they’re gonna forget it in t-minus four secs it’s fine

dr dre whatever you say, ma’am but are you sure that ‘cryptic’ caption won’t cause any issues??

↳ uhh andrew you’re scaring me

dr dre what if someone likes you? like like-likes you and knows you and gets hella jealous or doubtful? and not saying charlie does but he was raving about how he might finally get to hang out with you, ONE ON ONE. what if he thinks he can't because he thinks you two are dating?

↳ bro first off ik you don’t like me, neither does aryan and i know its DEFINITELY not walker

lee lee girl he had a celeb crush on you a few years ago dont tell him i told u that

chanel’s enemy LMFAOOOO but no andrew has a point how come you didn’t mention charlie? 🤨

dr dre yeah i was just aboutta say 🤨 especially after my little analysis?

↳ SECONDLY, guys, charlie doesn’t. not one bit and that’s obvious, like he isn’t even in considerations. i understand what he may feel but he has nothing to worry about. he knows i won't ditch him or anything lol (right?) but if anything the only person that’d be a little confused or whatnot is william

chanel’s enemy WHAT?? AS IN WILLIAM FRANKLYN MILLER??

lee lee huh 😃

↳ we dated for a month back when we were 15 or so and realized we were way better off as friends

lee lee why ?

↳ idk i think i was just jealous of lily 😭 but anyways we’ve been just friends since and i’m completely happy with that. i don't see him romantically anymore, yeah he’s hot but like nah. but yeah if he was confused, it's probably because i was best friends with levi when we dated too and might question if he was the cause of our split?? AGAIN THATS IF HE OVERTHINKS IT

dr dre i feel like i’m reading an autobiographical analysis you definitely are fond towards “millers”

↳ ur welcome <333 and NO i am not

chanel’s enemy okok so we got several people who’d be jealous

↳ WHAT WDYM SEVERAL I ONLY LISTED ONE

lee lee ain’t no way you’re ignoring charlie

↳ DUDES I REALLY DONT THINK HE LIKES ME

dr dre but there could be a possibility? just don’t rule him out

↳ bro he doesn't like me 😭 but yeah trust me everything’s gonna be okay again i dont like anyone and no one likes me, and we'll make sure it's obvious i'm single in case anyone does though that may take a while... ANYWAYS

lee lee suuuuure you should hang out with charlie btw

↳ idk why but im scared to 😭

lee lee but you need to he misses you a lot yk

↳ doesn’t change the fact that im SCARED

lee lee WHY WOULD YOU BE SCARED ITS JUST CHARLIE

↳ IDK I JUST DONT WANNA SEEM STUPID OR UNATTRACTIVE AND SHIT

lee lee HE FLIRTS WITH YOU ALL THE TIME AND MESSES UP JUST AS MUCH, YOURE NOT THE EMBARRASSING ONE HERE

↳ DUDE I KNOW I CAN BE AND I DONT WANNA DRIVE HIM AWAY

dr dre sure you and levi hang out and are sweet and shit but BRO the teeth rotting sugar is you and charlie in your damn COMMENTS

↳ ITS NOT THAT BAD, IS IT?? 😭 GOD I HOPE CHARLIE DOESNT THINK OF ME ANY DIFFERENTLY

chanel’s enemy i think u like charlie, miss girl

↳ NO

dr dre nah, they’d be cute together, even charlie said so himself

chanel’s enemy you dumbass

dr dre uhhh ANYWAYS said too much im gonna sleep again love youse

lee lee BRO yeah night babes <3

chanel’s enemy LOVE U BAE GN

↳ what the duck STUPID AUTOCORRECT WHAT THE FUCK AINT NO WAY YALL JUST DIPPED fine ily guys too </3 BUT DONT THINK IM LETTING THAT GO EASILY ugh what do you guys mean 😭 aint no way thats true OKOK YK WHAT BYE!! FOR REAL THIS TIME

— taglist.

@shokocoded @istillremberthefirstfallofsnow @surftrips @svtsimp22 @gcidrvsh @idontevencare1223 @thames-fig @captainshischier @reggieslifeboat @multifandom-loser @wheelerslover @mermaid-mqtel @randomnpc456 @kaithoughs @isab3lita @mariposa555 @sunshinessky @myr-cheri @thedeadlynights @ella33 @c1nn4mng1rl @poppysrin @breadbrobin @lucy-the-ant @jules-loves-lukecastellan @taloulalila @tom-pls-fuck-me @mia-luvs @iknowyoureabigfan @rinisfruity14 @chasebeth @auttumnsayshi @prettygirlformula @alwayswndr @balletfilmss @kestisvrse @1forthemoney2forthekish @eissaaaa @emelia07 @toffytaste @soulaires @bearwon @happy-mushrooms @simrah1012 @blimp-blimp @obxstiles @yuminako @hopexcroc @mackycat11 @knowugetdejavu @0puddleofgender0

thank you so much for all your love and support, it really means the world to me. y/n's beginning to find out certain things, wonder where things will go from here 🤔

as always, i will continue updating the taglist :)

i love you and am so proud of you, stay safe and drink water <3

#charlie bushnell #charlie bushnell x reader #charlie bushnell x you #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson #pjo #pjotv #social media fic #luke castellan #percy jackson x reader

[hunn1e-bunn1e]

hiii i just read "your melon bread" fic of denji and IT'S SO GOOD (i smashed the follow button immediately lol)

and i saw your asks are open so can i request a part 2 of it where the next day when denji, aki and power are patrolling the town and they walked pass a bakery and denji remembered what happened yesterday and forced aki to get inside and buy him melon bread but was greeted by the reader who's family owns the bakery (this is my first time requesting so sorry if it gets confusing and feel free to ignore this if u dont want to or if it makes u uncomfortable :3)

and can i be the 🦈 anon thankksss hope u have a good morning/evening/night ^_^

Denji Hayakawa - Half Your Melon Bread 2

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Hey 🦈Shark anon! Sorry for the absurdly long delay, but I've finally completed your ask. At first, I was just going to ignore it since “Half Your Melon Bread” was supposed to be a one-off thing, but the more I thought about it, the more I came to like it! — Benny🐰

Part 1

                                                                                                   

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Aki was… perplexed to say the least. The fiend(?) that he had been tasked to watch over hadn't so much as muttered Makima's name since yesterday; it was kind of unsettling. All the blonde idiot seemed to do was stare off into the distance and mutter something about bread.

While the topknot-styled man was a bit relieved that he wasn't being bothered by both of the idiots under his watch; he did grow a bit concerned. It seemed as though Power had as well, judging by the hard stare that she was drilling into the side of the Chainsaw Devil hybrid's head. The strawberry blonde hadn't uttered a word since they left the house; only staring at him in silence with a deep frown on her face.

Denji himself was deep in thought. That stranger… he never got their name; they left before he could ask. He did remember their face though, so he'll definitely thank them when he sees them again and maybe they'd let him touch their chest—

Bonk!

The dirty blonde walked right into a light pole while he was distracted by his thoughts. The boy groaned as he clutched his head in a futile attempt to soothe the pain and the ringing in his ears. As he looked at what he'd run into, he saw a soft yellow light in the corner of his eye. Turning his head, he saw that he, Aki, and Power were standing in front of a bakery.

A bakery… Baking… Bread is baked… Oh! Melon bread! He could get some of that here!

Quickly, Denji walks into the building, ignoring the annoyed protests of the senior devil hunter and cheers for food from the blood fiend. The smell of butter freshly baked dough immediately permeated his nostrils as he walked through the door. It was a comforting but hunger-inducing smell that had likely not only him, but everyone else in the building heavily salivating.

“Welcome to Chubby Bunny Bakery; I can help you right over here, Sir.”  

A voice from behind the dirty blonde draws his attention from observing the bakery's interior and to the order station.

The devil man's eyes widen as he sees the figure standing behind the display case. It was the stranger from yesterday in the park! They were holding onto a sheet pan of cookies; sliding the display case glass backing to the side and putting the pan of cookies inside.

“It's you!”  

Denji exclaims as he, rather rudely, points at them; finger only inches from their face due to how close he already was.

The stranger stares at him for a bit before they chuckles and gently grab his wrist to pull his hand down. They grab a small menu card from a stack of them that sits next to the register and place it in front of him with a small smile.

“Yes, it's me, bread boy. Did you have anything in mind already? If not, you can look at our menu here to help you decide.”  

The stranger tells him, tapping the menu card between them twice.

“Oh! Uh– melon bread. Pl—”  

The devil man was interrupted by a firm grip on his shoulder flipping him around to face an incredibly annoyed aki. 

“And what money are you going to use to pay for it? Not mine.”  

The raven-haired man asked rhetorically as he glared at the younger boy.

While Aki was talking the stranger came back to the front with a beige wax paper bag in their hand and held it out to the dirty blonde. Denji gingerly took it in his hand, ignoring his superior's irate rantings, and pulled out the glazed treat. He took a hesitant bite and his cheeks flushed a soft pink as the sweet melon flavor washed over his tongue.

The stranger smiled at him before turning to the top-knot-baring man with their hand out expectantly. He sighed as he realized that he would be paying for Denji's food after all. Shoving his hand into his back pocket; he takes out his wallet and reluctantly forks over the needed amount, though not before he throws a nasty glare the younger boy's way.

“So, uh, I never got your name. Or gave you mine, really. I'm Denji.”  

The dirty blonde shyly muttered between nibbles of his sweet treat.

The stranger chuckles at his timid demeanor, figuring that he was just feeling a little embarrassed by the fact that he had no money. They rest their chin in the palm of their hand as they look him up and down; thinking about how he kind of reminds them of a dog.

“Well, nice to meet you, Denji. I'm [Name].”  

They introduce themself lazily; taking his hand in theirs and giving it a firm shake.

Suddenly though, the baked treat was snatched from the dirty blonde's hand by a wild Power as she dashed to the door.

“Sharing is caring, henchman!”  

The blood fiend shouts as she is chased out of the door by both males.

[Name] stares at the door for a few seconds before letting out an amused chuckle. What a strange bunch, they thought with a smile.

🍞•♡•🥐•♡•🥖•♡•🫓•♡•🥨•♡•🥯•♡•🥞•♡•🧇

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.

Wanna see similar content? Check out my Masterlist!

#male reader #gender neutral reader #gn reader #csm #csm denji #csm x reader #csm x gn reader #csm x male reader #csm x gender neutral reader #chainsaw man #chainsaw man denji #chainsaw man x reader #chainsaw man x gn reader #chainsaw man x male reader #chainsaw man x gender neutral reader #denji #denji x reader #denji x gn reader #denji x male reader #denji x gender neutral reader #denji hayakawa #hunn1e bunn1e's ask box #answered asks #ask box #answered #answered anon #🦈shark anon

[lovelyhan]

Kai hi! Don't know how and why but, I've been experiencing severe Seventeen brainrot in general so, I'm here to supply hard thoughts. (Also, I reread the JeongCheol x Reader trilogy you wrote and it remains a favourite of mine.)

I don't know who to start with so, I'll go with my man lol. The thought of being forced to cum on Cheol's ridiculously thick fingers makes me need to sit down. You know he'd be running his mouth too and, telling you how good you're doing for him.

the svt brainrot is well-deserved <3 and JAAHFJHD i'm so touched you reread inflection point thank you so much TT BUT HELLO? being forced to cum on cheol's fingers.... [kai.exe has stopped working]?!??!?

it kind of reminds me of the oneshot i wrote after he posted those pics on ig :| his fingers,,, what i'd do to get to cum around them /gen,, you can treat this drabble as a short continuation to that fic :3c

⟣ forced orgasm with cheol ⟢ wc: 0.8k words minors do not interact!

Choi Seungcheol is a man of his word.

When he tells you he'll pick you up at seven o'clock on a Friday evening despite his harrowing schedule, he'll pull up at the curb in front of your apartment with five minutes to spare. When he promises to call you every night he's away on tour, he'll phone you despite the time differences, and the fact that he sounds way too tired to be asking you about your day.

So when your boyfriend promises to stuff you full the next time you see each other, you know better than to call his bluff.

About twenty minutes since he hung up, you hear the telltale knocking on your door. You don't bother putting your underwear back on -- fully confident of the identity of your late-night visitor.

It's safe to say that when Seungcheol sees you behind the crack in the door wearing nothing but a flimsy tank top with your pert nipples straining against the fabric, you were completely at his mercy.

You don't even make it back to your room. Seungcheol simply brushes past you and makes himself comfortable on your couch -- dark eyes hooded with equal parts arousal and disappointment as he manspreads all over the cushions. Fuck.

"If I wasn't the one who was outside, what would've you done then?" he asks gruffly. "I didn't know you were such a fucking slut, princess. Answering the door wearing nothing but that top of yours. Might as well have done it naked."

You humor him with a laugh before striding over to take a seat on one of his thighs, making a mess of his sweatpants as you rub your needy pussy all over the fabric.

"That's just how badly I need you, Cheol," you whimper, sliding your hips against his thigh for the friction you've been craving since you saw those pictures he posted. When you feel those big, warm hands of his sliding up your thighs, you can't help the moan that spills from your lips.

"Turn around and sit on my lap," he commands, and you're much too willing to comply.

The moment your back is pressed against his broad chest, Seungcheol pries your legs apart -- gathering your slick between his fingers before prodding your lips with them. When your boyfriend whispers a quiet, "That's my girl," you practically preen at his praise.

And that's how you find yourself writhing on your boyfriend's lap as he fucks you open on his thick, large fingers -- whining and crying as your walls clamp down on each digit. Seungcheol deigned to start with three, as you've already loosened yourself up during that sultry phone call you shared before he came over, and he delights in how depraved you are from his mere fingers alone.

"Such a good fucking girl for me, aren't you?" he rasps, sinking those digits into your cunt before curling them just so. "You miss me that much, baby? Want to keep me all to yourself?"

"F-Fuck, Cheol!"

You can't even bring yourself to respond. He's so thick, and so, so deep, and he hasn't even brought out his dick yet. But when your brain manages to make you remember how you felt seeing all those fans thirsting for your boyfriend, you end up hissing through your teeth as you grind down on his hand.

"Mine, mine, mine. You're mine," you mewl, barely hearing the sound of Seungcheol's amused laughter before he smashes your lips together.

"All yours, princess," he whispers, and you cry out when those few, subtle words end up becoming the catalyst for your inevitable release.

But even as your walls spasm around his fingers, Seungcheol is relentless. He continues fucking into your cunt with unending fervor -- as if he means to engrave the idea of how much he's missed you as well into your body. You're practically twitching on his lap as he mumbles an incoherent string of words against the skin of your neck, but you're not exactly in the right headspace to tell him off.

"My beautiful baby, always so pretty when you cum for me," is what you first hear when the white noise finally recedes from your ears. You realize that you're still moving your hips despite the overstimulation, so fucking desperate to have any part of him inside you again. "You want more? I've fucked you stupid with my fingers alone, and you still want more?"

You do. You do want more.

"I remember a certain someone saying he'll blow my back out the moment he's back here with me," you sigh, tilting your head so you can kiss the corner of his mouth. "Is he going to make good on his promise?"

The ravenous glint in his eyes is enough of an answer. After all...

Choi Seungcheol is a man of his word.

#💘 mutuals #seventeen smut #seventeen fic #svt smut #svt fic #scoups smut #seungcheol smut #rj <3 #📝 drabble #💭 request #lovelyhan

[iwritefandomimagines]

HE’S NOT YOU — JAMIE TARTT

masterlist

pairing: jamie tartt x fem!reader

description: as a chelsea women’s player, you’re well acquainted with the men’s team too. given that before you signed for chelsea you had joked that mason mount was your only other footballer crush, jamie is less than impressed by your friendship.

warnings: swearing, jealous!jamie (can regular readers tell i’m a sucker for jealousy fics lmao), also ft. roy being an advice giving legend. soft in the end <3

author’s note: i picked mason because i love him lol sorry this was self-indulgent. based on a request for jealous jamie :-) enjoy & thank u as ever for reading x

“You comin’ over tonight then, babe?”

Jamie’s eyes bored into yours as his hands firmly gripped your waist, both of you leaning on the wall of the Richmond changing room about to head out.

You’d come to watch him train early, as you had the weekend off training yourself and wanted a little extra time with your boyfriend.

Well, that and you’d made evening plans with some of your Chelsea teammates and the men’s team too, and you didn’t want Jamie to be disappointed when you reminded him you were busy tonight.

“Sorry baby, I’ve got plans with the squad tonight, remember?” you pouted, and you watched his face drop, “I mean— you can come too if you’d like?”

“Is it just your squad or… like, Chelsea?”

You narrowed your eyes at this question, but before you could ask why it mattered, your phone buzzed and you pulled it out to see a message in your group chat.

MASON: what time did we agree again?

Jamie couldn’t help the way that his eyes snapped down to your phone, and you noticed the scowl that spread on his face at the sight of the message.

“Yeah, you know what, I will come,” he puffed out his chest a little, standing up straight and running a hand through his hair, “What’s the plan, princess?”

You were more than confused by his reaction, “Uh, we’re just going to get drinks somewhere. Are you alright? Why do you look like I’ve just hidden your hair products and not like I’ve invited you on a night out?”

He crossed his arms over his chest with a scoff, “I don’t. Am fine. Text me where to meet you and I’ll be there. See you later, babe.”

Before you could ask again why he was being so strange about this, he’d kissed you on the forehead and turned to leave.

“I’m guessing by the look on his face, that message was from Mason Mount?” suddenly Roy Kent had appeared at your side, his arms crossed and his brow quirked.

You nodded, but huffed as you replied, “Yeah it was. But what does that matter?”

You had been surprised with how close you’d become to Roy in the time that you’d known him — both as a legend at your own club and one at Richmond.

But, and in particular when you started dating Jamie, he’d been like an older brother to you — always checking in to make sure Jamie treated you right, giving you advice (as best as the grumpy old man could, anyway).

You were eternally grateful for how he treated you, though right now you had no fucking clue what he was talking about.

“C’mon, Y/N/N,” he raised his eyebrow even more, like you were an idiot for not realising the problem. Maybe you were, “Before you signed for Chelsea, you told Jamie that you had a thing for Mason. However stupid your little crush was, he’s obviously not happy that you’re friends with him now.”

Wow. Okay.

“We’re just friends, though, and it’s not like I’d be spending the night alone with him,” you frowned, feeling guilty that your boyfriend felt that way and that he didn’t feel that he could talk to you about it.

“It doesn’t help that Jamie’s had a tough season and your new star boy mate is this season’s top scorer (a/n: 😐 like i said, self-indulgent lol) and he plays for your club,” Roy shrugged like it was the most obvious thing in the world, “He just sees him as competition. And he’s not going to tell you that.”

Before he could react, you wrapped your arms around him in a hug, “Thanks Roy, you’re the best. I’m gonna go speak to him about it.”

“Oi, oi,” he pulled back a little, but not entirely as this was you, “Alright. Go get him out of his little tantrum. And say hi to the Chelsea lot for me.”

“Will do, Kent, will do.”

You pulled out your phone again as he walked away with a low chuckle.

Y/N: J, babe, where are you? can i come get ready at yours tonight please? x

JAMIE: you sure you want to? but yeah sure x

Y/N: don’t be daft, of course i do. i’ve got some stuff to do quickly and then i’ll be at yours, ok? x

JAMIE: ok, princess. see you soon x

You turned up to his house two hours later, and when you knocked the front door he answered in seconds, like he’d been anxiously waiting for you.

You slung your bag down from your shoulder, placing it by the front door and scooping your arms around your neck to kiss him, “Hey, baby.”

“Hiya,” he smiled, kissing you back for a moment, “What made ya want to come here and get ready?”

He seemed uncharacteristically shy as he asked this, as though he was worried about your answer.

“You want the honest answer?”

“Well, yeah. Course. Unless it’s bad. Is it bad?”

“Roy told me how you feel about me being mates with Mase,” okay, maybe you shouldn’t have called him that in this conversation, but you pressed on, “I wanted to talk to you about it, because I didn’t realise you felt like that.”

He swallowed thickly, frowning down at you as you followed him into the living room to continue the conversation.

“Is this the part where you tell me you’re seeing him behind me back or something? Or that you don’t want me to come tonight?”

You sighed, shaking your head and grabbing both of his hands in yours, “The opposite, J.”

He shrugged, “I’d get it. He’s Mason fuckin’ Mount and you’ve fancied him forever. At least his club don’t hate him (a/n: once again self indulgent here) and he’s scoring goals left right and fucking centre at the minute.”

Once again you hooked your arms around him, pulling him closer to you as you forced eye contact.

“Jam, I’m not seeing him and I wouldn’t want to. I have you, and you’re all I want. Sure, I do think you’re fit as fuck on the pitch, but I don’t just fancy you ‘cause you’re a good footballer,” you pleaded with him, and his face softened, “I don’t have a thing for Mason, and scoring goals is hardly gonna swing that for me. I joked that I thought he was attractive before I knew him, yeah, but he’s just a mate and I don’t look at him like that. He’s not you, Jamie, he’ll never be you.”

He seemed half-satisfied by this for a moment, before gritting his teeth and shaking his head, “He plays for your club though, you go for coffee all the time, you have a laugh with him while I’ve been a miserable prick ‘cause I’m playing like fuckin’ shit at the moment.”

It broke your heart to hear him say that, and suddenly you felt like an absolute arsehole for not noticing how he felt sooner and doing something about it.

“Who he plays for doesn’t matter, neither does the fact I like his company as a friend,” you pouted, “But I haven’t done a good enough job of making that clear, and I promise I’ll make sure I do in future because I never want you to feel insecure. I love you, J. Just you. And the fact that you’re struggling at the moment just makes me want to help you, not fuck you off for someone else.”

He kissed you softly, a sort of subtle thank you gesture for your words, even though you weren’t sure he entirely believed them.

He’d never been insecure before, always so certain of himself.

But when it came to you, he was always worried that he wasn’t good enough and you’d realise that eventually.

“We don’t have to go tonight, you know that yeah?” you asked, pushing a hair that had fallen from behind his hair band into his face, “We can do something just me and you. Or stay in.”

He shook his head, “Nah, we should go. It’ll be fun, and I probably should meet him without being a prick to him because I get so jealous that I usually am.”

“It’s fair enough,” you shrugged, “But he’s lovely, and he’s a big fan of you. Thinks you’re class, and wants you to sign for us if anything.”

This seemed to perk Jamie up more, both because it meant Mason was well aware you were taken and because he thought he was class.

“Maybe I should,” he smirked, kissing your nose.

“Now c’mon, if we’re going out I need to get ready,” you hummed, “I look like shit and if I’m going to show up with my hot boyfriend for the first time, I have to try and look at least slightly close to your league.”

He scoffed, “Don’t be daft, you’re gorgeous. World class. Can’t wait to show off my girl.”

You beamed, blushing crimson under his intense gaze before he leaned in and kissed you again.

“I can’t believe you’d think I’d ever want anyone else when I’ve got Jamie fuckin’ Tartt, eh?”

“You know what, princess, you’re right.”

———

thank you for reading !!! i hope this was okay, sorry if it’s a little messy but it was fun to write because i <3 soft jamie and also love mason mount ridiculous amounts lmao so this was based on a jealousy request but also v self indulgent.

if you have more requests please let me know — and in the meantime here is my masterlist!

#jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt #jamie tartt x reader #ted lasso #ted lasso imagine #jamie tartt jealous #mason mount

[vampyrgoff]

Hey lovely 🖤 Requesting a Nsfw alphabet for my stinky roadkill boyfriend Lester (if you don't mind!).

I swear to God I've read every single Lester centric thing here and I'm STARVED for content. Plus I really enjoyed the way you wrote Vincent's!

NSFW Alphabet: Lester Sinclair

lester sinclair x reader

contains— nsfw!MDNI, semi-pervy Lester?, sub!Lester (sorry to my Dom!Lester loves ppl out there), dom!reader, virgin!Lester, experienced!reader, lil bit of a mommy kink lol, somno👀, foot job? also not proofread lol

requests— open! send anything! check my page for who I write for!

vampyr’s note— IM SO HAPPY! THIS IS MY FIRST REQUEST EVER? I noticed that there is a MAJOR shortage of fics/headcanons/anything really of Lester. i hope this helps that Lester Sinclair thirst be quenched<3 And thanks for liking how I wrote Vincent<3! That makes me so happy that people are enjoying it. AS ALWAYS: REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED <3 Overall thanks for requesting! and I hope you like it<3

(let me know if I should make a taglist and if you'd like to be on a future potential taglist)

gif isn't mine! here's the link to vincent's <3

(HES SO CUTE HERE)

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Lester probably is pretty clueless when it comes to aftercare let's be honest. He's probably gonna ask what you need from him and that he'll do whatever you tell him to. But once he gets the hang of things, he's always gonna cuddle you and call you all types of cute names.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He possibly can't choose between what body part of yours is his favorite. He definitely loves every aspect of you, I def think even though in the movie he was staring at Carly's chest, he's an ass man kinda like Bo lol He loves your butt, what can I say.

When you first met, you were on a camping trip with 'friends' or so you thought. They left you and your broken-down car to go see some stupid game of the season. You felt hopeless and wandered around the woods, looking for anyone to help you before stumbling on the roadkill pile. You felt your stomach turn and twist with disgust. The smell was unbearable as you looked at all the deer heads and bodies rotting away in a large pile. The Louisiana heat, already unbearable, made the rotting smell more pungent.

What made you stop in your tracks was, near the gorey pile, you see a smartphone. The screen was cracked and the phone was dirty, but you couldn't help but recognize the phone as one of your friends. You bent over inspecting the phone until you heard an unfamiliar voice from behind you. "Well isn't this a nice view, Jonesy?"

You turned around and were greeted by a cute petite man and his dog. The dog sniffed at your legs and such and the man gave you a warm smile that made you feel a teensy bit better about the situation you were currently in. "Hi! I'm (y/n)! I'm so glad I'm not alone in these woods." you say in relief. The man smiles at you, a cute little cheeky grin. "Name's Lester! And tha's Jonesy. Ya seem lost, sweet pea." His voice was dripped with concern and cute little worried eyes. You had so many questions and you were too tired to even think of any until you remembered the broken smartphone of your friend. You turned your back to Lester and grabbed the phone. While your back was turned to him all he could see was your ass. MAN! He admired the slight peak of your underwear and began blushing a bit. It's been a while since a pretty young thing like you came along, so forgive him for being so pervy.

Ever since that day, Lester knew what his physical fave thing about you was. This man will watch you help Bo at the gas station and his eyes are just watching your ass move.

When you guys cuddle at night, he'll bashfully grab two handfuls of your ass. He'll knead at the skin and kiss your face and neck. He knows how wet you get from such a simple gesture but he loves seeing you squirm under his touch, especially when he does it with such a cute boyish innocence.

His favorite body part on himself is probably his hands aswell. I headcanon (I have a Lester headcanon thing coming up so look out for that&lt;;3) that he's good at carving things in a woodshop way. Vincent is not the only one that has an amazing talent. I think Les' is way more hidden but nonetheless, he loves how he can skin a buck, and carve a beautiful thing out of wood/bone.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

This lovely gentleman is scared to cum in your mouth. He's already a stinky boy but he's scared that he'll taste too bitter for you. He also is scared to cum in your mouth out of respect. He feels as though it's so demeaning but you convince him that it's okay for him to do so. Although it takes him some warming up to do when it comes to shooting loads into your mouth, trust me, when he starts to get comfy with doing it, it's his favorite thing in the entire world. He loves how you look at him through your lashes while you lick every drop of him up.

He loves to feel in control for those little few moments before you eventually put him back into his place by overstimulating his senses. When it comes to you and your cum, he's such a slut for it, yall. He loves seeing you cream all over his cock. He'll look at you in awe when he sees you bouncing on his dick and there's a whole bunch of cum dripping out of you. His adorable eyes will be half-lidded and his hands squeezing and rubbing at your thighs while he whimpers and groans your name a few times. "Oh, sweet pea, I love when 'yer pretty cunt squeezes me like this." He's a messy boy alright, but he loves when you make him a mess.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Les constantly thinks about domming you all the time. Although it seems as though he won't get close to doing that, he thinks about it all the time. He thinks about making you scream for him but he's such a gentleman and a sub to do so. He likes the idea of you taking control so that he doesn't ever do anything that makes you feel uncomfortable.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Another virgin boy. His experience is only with himself. I think this is why he's not into domming you just yet until you guys are together for longer. He's never had to take the lead in anything, he's the baby... and he sure as hell acts like it. The first time you guys do anything remotely sexual, you have to guide him.

This poor baby is so clueless in the bedroom that you had to teach him how to finger you AND eat you out. You had to shape him into the little munch he is today.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

I don't know if you can truly say that this is a position but this man is the best at pussy eating, with that being said... sit on his face <3 He doesn't care about how big or small you are... sit on that mf face.

As a plus-size girl, I get being scared but NOOOO this boy loves your plushy thighs around his head. He grips them so hard and needily, needing your cunt as close as possible, as he laps at your folds and sucks on your clit. He loves tonguing your hole as you pull on his hair every so often.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He can be humorous and giddy. This man lives for cute little moments with you. He'll get really flustered and make joke to lighten things before he becomes so embarrassed and red that he won't be able to speak.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

I don't think its a forest down there but I'm sure he trims the hair on his own.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Oh, this lovebug is SO romantic. He kisses your cunt and thanks you for letting him even near your cunt before he devours you. He'll kiss and suck on your thighs when you let him eat you out.

If you've had such a long day of distracting guests and stuff, he'll have you lay down naked on the bed and kiss you all over. He'll kiss your legs and feet, will kiss your thighs, inner thighs, and will kiss your pretty stomach and chest. It definitely gets you going though when he acts this way for foreplay.

While you sit on his cock and bounce, he'll say cute things that egg you on, "Honeydew... my cock-- I think I needa' cum, sweet pea--", "More, please mama!", "yer so pretty, darlin', how'd i get so lucky?"

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

This baby lovesss jerking off. It's the best way for him to get rid of his anger, his horniness and well it helps him relax. I think he's such a sweetheart about being horny a lot. To him, he sees it is quite bothersome to constantly ask for sex, so this'll be his best option. He always says "My momma raised me righ', I will never make you uncomfortable on purpose, sweet pea." so don't expect him to constantly ask you to fuck... cause he will not give in babes, he will very much mind his business and wait for you to come to him. But if you ask, I think he'd tell you that he wants to do things but I don't see him outright saying it.

I think the first time you caught him masturbating was quite interesting...

You caught the cutie in his room jerking off. Your (used) panties stuffed in his mouth so that he wouldn't make any noise at all. You couldn't help but admire him in all his subby glory. You were standing at the door for a long while. He was jerking his cock, nice and slow, the muscles on his tummy contracting as he went over his sensitive head when all of a sudden you spoke up. "Keep going, Les."

His head snapped towards you and you felt your lust growing deep within you. You closed the door from behind you and stepped closer to the bed. Slowly making your way to sit on your knees next to him on the bed. His eyes were still wide with shock when you grabbed your panties from his mouth. "Why'd ya stop, Les?" you said, giving him such a coy and teasing smile.

He bucked his hips up into his hand and played with his tip with the other. He looked clueless on how to really pleasure himself. It was so cute to you though. So you def helped him out, without touching him of course. You instructed him to stroke his cock slowly as he watched you play with your breasts and roll your nipples between your fingers. Watching you made him so feral, and you knew it.

You let him watch you play with your clit through your panties. You also let him watch you toy with your hole through your panties as well. He went soooo crazy over that though, you were staring at his dick while it twitched in excitement.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Collaring: This boy loves being your little lap dog. He loves when you're riding him and pulling on a leash connected to his collar. He gets so loud and whiny. He also likes collaring you babes! But I think he’d go all out for it. It’d say something like “Honeydew” on it or any other name you liked to be called. When you’re collared, his heart swells and he think you look so adorable. He’d even get a tag on the collar that says “Lester Sinclair’s property”

Somno: This boy is such a people pleaser and that doesn't exclude you, he'll wake up horny asf and he'll look over at you in just a t-shirt and he'll feel his heart RACING. He's gonna pull up that t-shirt slowly and get to work at your folds. He starts off with small cute kitten licks at your clit; watching you stir your sleep and shift a bit at the feeling. He'll slowly put your legs on his shoulders and lick up the juices that start to build up. He feels like it's wrong to take advantage of you, with his cheeks pink and rosy with slight embarrassment, but he loves the idea of you waking up and seeing him as such a good needy boy. On the other hand... he doesn't mind if you wake up and feel the need to want him too. He loves the idea of him waking up, already breaking a sweat, and seeing you perched on top of him with his cock deep inside you. DUDEEE he'd love it. He'd be so surprised too, his cheeks all pink and his heart racing. He'd def have these low whines and whimpers that would come out of him.

Breeding: Now... I saw a comment on my Vincent post from @iwhat saying that every Southerner has a breeding kink. AND YOU KNOW WHAT- anyways this baby is very scared of getting you pregnant at first okayyyyy. Like he's terrified. Especially if you've never brought up wanting kids. Like this man will always pull out whenever he can. But once you tell him that you want his cum in you, he's so ready to give you his all. This poor baby LIVES off of praise and your validation so he'll do whatever he can to give you his cum. He wants kids and he wants you to bear them, so when he's bucking his hips up into you while you have your hand resting at his throat, he's gonna slam into that cervix of yours so desperately, almost like his in a trance, almost like he's pussydrunk. He loves the thought of you being pregnant with his offspring and he loves the thought that he's doing WAY better than his brothers too. He's mostly happy that he basically found a spouse before Bo could

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

In his or on his truck. 100%. He'll deep clean the back and add bedding to it. Just so that he could fuck you under the stars. Or for you to dom him under the stars. Whatever works. I'm sure you love watching his heaving chest go up and down as you rub his cock through your folds. He also loves when you guys lure visitors together, cause that means this brave little man is gonna get some rewarding head from you inside the truck.

On a different note, he has a little spot in the woods where he has a hammock set up and a little blanketed area for you guys when you want to get out of town. It has fairy lights and all. It was a gift he brought to you as a "thanks-for-loving-me-and-not-leaving-me-even-though-our-family-is-crazy" gift. After your romantic picnic, when he was cleaning everything up, you told him to leave it. And he sure did. It's your favorite place to go since it takes your mind off of everything.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Oh, this baby probs gets turned on by everything. I think it's your thighs and cleavage. This man could stare at your thighs in the blazing heat all day. He loves when you wear your shorts all around town. When you ride with him to get more buck he'll slyly stare at your thighs and his mouth will JUST water.

He'll rest his calloused hand on your thigh and knead at the supple skin. "Yer' skin's so beautiful, honeydew." He'll say lowly with a small smile on his face, as he leans into you and kisses your cheek. Of course, his hands will never stop groping your thigh, he loves the way it ripples.

Other times, you guys will sit in the house and watch a bit of TV with Jonesy. You'll lay down on the couch with your legs over his and he'll definitely look over and just play with your thighs. How could he not... you're sitting there in his flannel and your little shorts. All he could think is leaving cute love bites all over them. He'll lean his body down to kiss your thighs, earning a cute little giggle from you, and the sound goes straight to his cock, his cock twitching slightly at the fact that you're enjoying his affection. Noticing his hard cock on your legs, your face lights up with joy at the thought of teasing this cutie about his obsession with your thighs.

You look at him and whine about your thighs aching and how you need them soothed. He'll get so excited and will want you to sit on his lap with your legs spread apart so that he could just pay EXTRA attention to your thighs and you'll watch him knead at your skin in admiration. He loves the skin that surrounds your cunt. You stop his hands and snake his cock out of his jeans and let it spring out. You smirk and wrap your thighs around it; ignoring his cute whines, "Fuck my thighs, pretty boy."

This man loves your thighs so much.. don't even question it

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

Lester seems like the type where not much bothers him. He’s good with knives and stuff but I don’t think he’d use them on you… at all. like again he’s good at carving stuff out of wood but like if you were to tell him to cut you this man will 100% say no. He also will say no to degrading you. Even if you like it, this man will go out of his way to only praise you. He’s a soft dom <3

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Oh, yall know this baby loves receiving. He just won't admit it. (this doesn't mean he doesn't also love giving) But he's obsessed with getting the life sucked out of him. This cutie is so timid when it's his turn for oral. Once your lips are on him, you'll need to gag this man if you think he can be quiet. His tip is very sensitive so when you tease him with small kitten licks on his red pulsing tip, expect him to be whimpering your name like a prayer...

You pull his jeans down along with his briefs and watch his cock spring and hit his stomach as he lays down, a small groan erupting from the back of his throat, "y/n-sweetheart... please." he'll whine out. And all you can do is smirk and smile at his cute plea. "I haven't touched you yet, Les. Good things come to those who simply... wait," you say while licking a long strip of the underside of his cock, beads of sweat already pricking his hairline. A low groan comes from him and he's already resting his hands on your thighs that are on either side of his torso. "y/n, please... I jus' wanna feel you... and make you feel goo-" His sentence was interrupted by another whine coming from him, this time being that you were kitten licking his pre-cumming tip. "y/n please-"

"ah-ah-ah, address me right, baby..." you say softly yet assertively. Your hand already sliding up to his throat, his bod already tensing. “mommy… please”

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He’ll do whatever you tell him. If you’re riding him and tell him to fuck up into you while you swivel your hips on him, he’ll do it in a heartbeat. If you need him to slow down his needy thrusts to tease him, he’ll do it in a heartbeat. He’s your little toy to play with <3

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He likes quickies but he also doesn’t like them. At the end of the day though… this man is a service top and will do whatever he can to keep you happy. Quickies wouldn’t be too often but I think they happen here and there. I can see you pulling him into a nearby closet and just pressing your ass on his crotch. He’d get so flustered, hands already flying to your sides, running low down to your hips and pulling your lower half flush against him. He’s quite easy to turn on so just a little moment like this could get him going completely.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He only would like to experiment if it’s you who brings it up. He’s creative with his hands and can get pretty crafty but when it comes to your guys’ sex life… I think he’s too nervous to even bring anything up. I think he’d love some sex in the forest but he’s never gonna tell you that, because he’s afraid of you thinking he’s weird :(

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Don’t hate me but this baby can’t last too long. He loves edging and loves when you take control and edge his orgasm for a few hours. But don’t expect him to last awhile once he’s inside you. Poor baby could probably cum from just cockwarming.

He gets sensitive after 2 rounds, small traces on the vein of his cock will get him crying. He’ll start begging once you lick all around his tip.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

A small cockring for him. he’s so baby that he’d probably get really jealous of your toys, if you have any. If you’re feeling horny and he’s not around, give him a call instead. He’s totally talk you through an orgasm rather than you use a dildo.

You had to convince him to try out the cockring though. He had NO idea what it is and wtf it’s supposed to stimulate on him. But once he see your pleading eyes, he TRULY can’t say no to you.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He isn’t much of a tease, he’s a service top after all. He does things unintentionally that can be seen as teasing though. Like when you guys are on the couch with Jonesy, he’ll trace his calloused fingers along your soft inner thighs. That shit drives you wild though, for sure.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He whimpers idc. This man whimpers and he’s loud. His whimpers have a bit of vocal fry but it’s so cute and charming coming from him <3.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Secretly wants you to peg him. idc you can’t tell me otherwise, if not pegging him he would love to try anal with you.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

i think he’s pretty average maybe a bit thicker than average. carpet matches the drapes for sure. his tip is bright pink idc

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

He’s always horny and yea touch starved as fuck too. BUT he won’t tell you. You’ll just have to catch him when his bulge is causing him some slight discomfort.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

this baby is so spoiled, once he gets the ass he’s been begging for this mf starts to fall asleep. It’s okay you guys take turns being the pillow prince/princess. he gets all soft and falls asleep near your stomach holding you tightly by your ass. Fondling it as he drifts off. he’s so cute but he falls asleep wayyyy too fast lol.

#slashers #vincent sinclair #house of wax #slashers x reader #bo sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair imagine #vincent sinclair x reader #lester sinclair #lester sinclair x reader #lester sinclair x reader smut #sinclair brothers #slasher smut

[pjmparadise]

3:23 am (don’t go, stay) Pt 1 || JJK

Pairing: jungkook x f! original character

Word count: 12.1k

Genre(s): fluff, romance, strangers to lovers, slight angst if you squint; neighbor au, pre-debut Jungkook au, pre-debut au, comic book artist Jungkook au, apartment au, neighbor au

Warnings: cursing, mentions of jungkook’s penis (yeah yeah... he sleeps naked ofc), brief injury (jk hurts himself bc he’s a dork); descriptions of anxiety and fear (jungkook is scared for a sec, oops); nudity mentions, jungkook is a little horny (what can I say....), jungkook gets a hard on lol; he’s also down bad pathetic crushing and is super clumsy, and brief mentions of home robberies (lol this feels random, but it isn’t I swear), very heavily dialogue based

Audience: 18+ (minors, DNI!)

Summary: Jungkook has had a couple of awkward run-ins with his pretty upstairs neighbor, who he may or may not be secretly pining over, and one night, she pays him an unexpected visit.

“My patio, though. Did you fall? I heard a thud.”

“Are you flirting with me? I’ve heard that pickup line before, but yours sounds a little different.”

He smiles. “I wouldn’t use pickup lines like those with you.”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

A/N: WOOO! my first jungkook fic!! We recently got his birth time, and thus this title was born lol! I’ve been working on this baby for a few months now, and it’s finally finished!! After a long time of contemplating, i decided to make our female character an original character, and i know it’s kind of a rare thing in the community, but i felt it worked best with my story. It’s been a bumpy ride with this one since it’s my first lengthy fic (over 12k words... sheesh!) that will be a part of a short series. I’m very excited and a little nervous, but if you’re here, I’m glad to have you here. Thank you for giving my work a shot <3 (ps. italics indicate jungkook’s inner thoughts as well as flashbacks)

a big thank you to my lovely beta’s: @cherrysoulth @the-boy-meets-evil​ and @jeonjcngkook​ you’ve all helped me shape my fic and have been so helpful, and I am so so grateful. truly. seriously. thank you for brainstorming with me, for reading my work, and for being so sweet and so supportive.

a special thank you to @itaeewon​ for the lovely banner! I love it so so much &lt;3

Jungkook is awake to hear the sound of a muffled thud nearby.

His bedroom is dark and silent save for the alarm clock resting on a bedside table flashing bright red numbers at him. ‘It’s late, it’s late, you should be asleep,’ the time says. Jungkook shuts his eyes, groaning and rubbing a hand over his face. “I know, fuck, I know,” he mutters. He’s fully naked, lying on his back, eyes wide open and boring into the ceiling, blanket kicked off to the side, and arms folded behind his neck–still remembering a phone conversation with Namjoon earlier in the day.

“So she walked toward the elevator as it closed, and you didn’t open it for her?” Namjoon scoffs over the phone, shaking his head and clicking his tongue to show he’s disappointed. He knows Jungkook froze, Jungkook already told him he wanted to reach out and push the button for her, but Namjoon asked again anyway—he likes to give him a hard time. “Every time you see this girl, things just kind of go wrong. I’ve noticed.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook says with a sigh. “I’ve noticed too. Is it a sign? Should I give up?” In his apartment, he sat curled up on his couch, his chin on his kneecaps. He’s fallen silent in thought.

“No, nothing like that. Maybe she didn’t get to see it was you, so she thinks it was someone else, or maybe she doesn't even think about it anymore. You know, like things that happen in your day you forget about later unless something reminds you of it?”

“Yes!” Jungkook relaxed, falling back against the couch with a hand over his forehead. “That probably is what’s going on. She went on with her day; other things have to happen, right?”

Namjoon was quiet. In his apartment, he was opening mail and reading over a proposal he was meant to sign soon. A project he hasn’t mentioned to anyone else, Namjoon folds the letter and sets it aside. “Sorry, yes. Yes, don’t worry too much. It will ruin your day. I mean that. Sorry for the pause. I just opened some mail.”

“Ah, okay. Well, you’re right.” Jungkook rose from his seat then. “Namjoon-hyung?”

Namjoon nodded even though he couldn’t be seen. “Yeah?”

“Thank you. I don’t know if I say that enough, but you’re always helping and guiding me when I don’t even realize I need it.”

“Thank you, Jungkook. Finish your comic tonight, and submit it tomorrow. I know you’ll place in the contest and do well. You haven’t scrapped it have you?”

Jungkook sighed. Rubbing his eyelids, walking distractedly around his living room, he spoke with his eyes closed. “I have it. I finished it; I just don’t feel too good about posting it, even with the pseudonym; it feels like too much. Too much with what we already have going on as a group even. We’re trying to do something together, and the comic stuff is just… I don’t know. I don’t want it to distract me.”

Namjoon was on his back patio, leaning over the railing and looking out at the park across from him. “Jungkook, I’m going to tell you something and think about it however you want to. I respect your life, but I think—and these are just my opinions. I think you doubt yourself too often and need to take some chances. Luck turns out; it does.” Namjoon folds his arms over the railing, leaning his body against it. “No rush, bro. At all. The music we’re trying to pursue, it’s not going anywhere, you know?”

Jungkook nodded from his living room.

“Like, okay, look.” Namjoon fixed his gaze on a flock of birds rising from the trees. “The guys, we all have our passions. Yoongi with his piano, Jimin is passionate about his dancing, Taehyung with his instruments, Jin and his gaming, and Hoseok he’s been designing his own clothes lately; with me, you know I like poetry and painting, but we all share music. That is for the team, for a part of us, but we each have so many parts. You like art and storytelling; your comics are so cool, bro. You love watching Taehyung practice the trumpet, and Jimin dance after practice. We like to see you pursue your other dreams too.  Pursue it, and don't worry about the group, is all I ask.”

Jungkook almost cried. He stopped pacing. His heart was racing; it was all he had heard momentarily. If Namjoon were there in front of him, he’d hug him. Maybe he’d even cry. “Ah, Namjoon-hyung…” he swallowed hard at the saliva in his throat, blushing. ‘Namjoon always knows what to say,’ he thought. “I will think about it. I will set an alarm, just in case. I’ll decide in the morning, you know it’s my style to do that the day of. If I think about it now, it will be like this all day, and I’ll stress too much.”

“Good, then. Just think about it.” Namjoon smiled.

Jungkook lies motionless with his eyes shut, eyebrows furrowed in concentration, mouthing along to Namjoon’s words. “We like to see you pursue your other dreams too.  Pursue it, and don't worry about the group, is all I ask.” He sighs. How could he not worry about the guys? He’s twenty-five. Most idols start out much younger, and the mandatory enlistment is already so near for his hyungs. It’s bad timing, is all. My comic book can wait.

He wants to sleep, so he turns over, laying flat on his stomach, facing his wall. Resting his full body weight on his flaccid penis is slightly uncomfortable, but he ignores it. It’s the type of restless night that he has no chance up against, and even with his eyes closed, he feels painfully awake. Jungkook is thinking of her again—her pretty smile, the pink sundress she wore in the elevator, her ability to look him in the eyes and not shy away—and it’s almost like she's here, in the same room with him. He pictures the sundress again, the way it clung to her frame, highlighting every curve. Man, I want her. He shifts his hips around, surprising himself with a massive erection.

The thud strikes again suddenly, and he sits up, alarmed. Shit, is that here? Like outside my apartment? Jungkook squints in the darkness, bringing a hand to the nightstand to fetch his glasses. Any sign of arousal is now extinguished.

“Bam?” He calls out in a sluggish voice.  The clock beside him flashes bright red numbers at him. 3:23. “Ah, shit,” Jungkook mumbles, turning the clock away. A sound he can’t distinguish comes from his left, directly outside his bedroom. “It’s like home alone,” he says to no one.

Jungkook rests his head against the wall, the texture cold against his feverish face. He can hear the sound of a muffled conversation. “Shit, that’s right here, right outside,” he mumbles, stepping back. He reaches over mechanically to switch on the lamp beside him.

Now, Jungkook is painfully aware of his nakedness and frenetically searches for bottoms to change into. He’s thinking about how his legs don’t feel like his own as he walks to the chair by the door, where he sees basketball shorts. It’s like sleepwalking. Even though he’s awake, Jungkook feels as though he might’ve actually fallen asleep, and this is some strange anxiety dream he’s creating to cope with his qualms about submitting his comic. Still, he goes along with it, quietly changing into the shorts, walking out into his living room, and ducking his head when he passes the glass patio door.

Cursing under his breath, annoyed at himself for forgetting to throw on a shirt, Jungkook shakes his head at himself. I don't want to fight an intruder shirtless and commando in basketball shorts, damn... A part of him feels a rush of adrenaline as he crouches behind a potted plant and, chewing on his lower lip, fantasizes about a robbery gone wrong, one where he puts his boxing skills to the test—the other part of him wants this to be a dream, a sign from the universe that he ought to submit his comic. I’ll fucking do it if I survive this.

Jungkook stays like that for a while until he hears a sound again. Rising from his crouched position, he walks toward the back patio window, pulling back the curtain to peer out. He feels a tightness in his chest, and his hands tremble slightly. A shameful part of him is relieved that he’s alone and no one is around to see how shaken up he is.

He whistles quietly, calling to Bam, forgetting his brother is watching over him tonight. Craning his neck, he glances around his balcony patio and sees nothing. “Bam, come here,” his whispering is frantic. He whistles again, patting his leg lightly. Nothing. You’re okay. It’s nothing. It’s probably the cats again tipping over the plants. Just fix it tomorrow. Now, go back to bed. You need it. Jungkook is about to whistle once more when he remembers. His eyebrows knit together; shaking his head, he places his fingertips on his eyelids, murmuring a lamented, “Ah.”

Thinking better of it, he draws the curtain back again and sighs with relief before taking note of a figure crouched behind a chair with a hand shooting up to rub their head. Panic washes over him. His inner monologue consists of a string of every curse word he can think of as he ducks out of view. Fuck, fuck, fuck, that’s a person. If he’d been scared earlier, now he’s downright petrified.

Desperate, he begins to look around the room for a weapon. Anything. Jungkook stands still, breathing in heavy gulps of air, cradling his head as he adjusts his vision to the darkness of the living room. ‘Can’t even turn a fucking light on,’ he thinks as he drops to the ground and crawls around his living room. His home’s silence unsettles him. Jungkook can hear the nothingness aside from his ragged breathing, so he pinches the skin on his arm and hisses at the sharp pain. Okay, real life it is. His bare knees skid against the hard flooring, and his clammy palms slip beneath him; his heart is thudding hard and fast, the blood pooling between his ears. He’s scowling, chewing his lower lip, his chest heaving as he fumbles a hand under the couch; he fingers a cold object and remembers what it is. Aha! He comes up with a golf club Taehyung left behind a few nights ago. I love you, Taehyung!

Jungkook grips the golf club until his knuckles take on a pale color. Having a weapon gives him a newfound sense of security, and like before, he’s fantasizing about kicking someone’s ass. “You come to my house at three in the morning? My house?” he says as he walks through his living room, rolling his shoulders.

He draws the curtain again, allowing his eyes to adjust to the darkness; he sees the figure facing away from him and hunching over, a phone glowing against their face. He can call the police, and he almost wants to, but to avoid the drama of a police visit at three in the morning, he decides against it. Imagine the guys find out I called the police? He shudders at the thought. The stranger looks small anyway.

Jungkook reaches for the doorknob and pulls back the door. It’s a lot chillier than he’d anticipated. He folds his arms over his bare chest instantly, the skin covered in goosebumps—his teeth chatter of their own accord.

“Don't move!” He raises the golf club in a mid-swing position, ready to strike. The person shifts around, holding up the hand with the phone. “I said, ‘Don’t move’!” He sounds ridiculous, but he doesn't care. In the shadows, he watches the phone’s glow shut off. “I called the police, so don’t try anything. They’re on the way.” His voice doesn't even sound like his own. He takes a few steps toward the stranger, his grip tightening around the golf club. His heart feels heavy in his chest.

It’s hard to make out the features of this person, but they rise, walk toward the dim light spilling from the neighbor’s window, and he can see them now. The stranger looks straight at him, and he’s met with wide eyes staring at him. She’s standing, squinting at him with a hand on her hip, and she smiles wide. Damn! If this were an animation, she’d have a halo effect.

Jungkook has seen her a total of seven times—he can’t help it; he likes to keep track of these things. It’s his upstairs neighbor, their interactions before tonight being brief and in passing (the most recent engraved in his mind and tormenting him), and he’s thought of her tirelessly and has fantasized about a time they should meet, and things go well for a change.

Jungkook doesn't know her name, but he could recognize those beautiful dark eyes anywhere. He’s looking into them now, his body anchored, mouth turning into sawdust.

She’s talking to him; he’s just not listening. Not really. He can't grasp the reality that it’s actually her, and she’s standing on his patio, and she looks so beautiful. Should he be thinking that?

Her long black hair is in a loose ponytail, her eyebrows arch as her deep dark eyes blink at him, and her lips move. “Please tell me you didn't really call the cops,” she says, bursting through his trance.

Damn, I sounded so stupid! Jungkook blushes. He hopes she can’t tell from where she stands.

“I was trying to call my friend; I swear I was not snooping or breaking in.” She smiles, but her voice sounds worried. Her eyebrows furrow like she’s trying to read him. “Honest,” she says in a small voice as she leans on the railing and raises her hand with the cell phone for emphasis.

She’s wearing a dark gray sweatshirt twice her size and sandals with white socks, and he can’t tell if she’s wearing shorts or if the sweatshirt is all. He can feel his face reddening just from the possibility of her nakedness underneath the sweatshirt, so he decides not to focus on that.

Jungkook rubs the nape of his neck, abashed. The cold air surrounds him, and he folds his arms across his chest, remembering his exposed chest. His empty threat echoes and bounces around in his head, and he looks away from her. “I didn't call the cops, sorry. I didn't know what else to say. It’s what they say in movies.”

“You would be right anyway; this is your patio.” She laughs a little at that, and his heart rate picks up. She pushes herself away from the railing, smiling, and walks toward him with an outstretched hand. Her nail polish is glittery, and he doesn't notice, but this small detail makes him smile. “I’m Rei. I live upstairs. Maybe you’ve seen me before.” There’s a coy look on her face as she says this, and it makes him nervous.

So her name is Rei!!! Fireworks set off, exploding behind Jungkook’s wide eyes.

“Huh, maybe,” Jungkook lies. He shakes her hand slowly, his hand enveloping hers entirely, the contact sending a warm shock through his body.

“Maybe a few days ago,” she says, with a finger to her chin, like she’s thinking over something. “Oh, yes, have I seen you on the elevator?”

“The elevator?” He feigns innocence as he tongues his lip ring anxiously. “That’s strange. Every day is a blur for me.”

“For me, too,” she replies. She’s almost smirking, watching Jungkook lie. He can tell she’s caught him. “You just look sooo familiar.”

“That’s a first.” Still, he denies it.

“Maybe you just look like someone I’ve seen,” she says, looking into his eyes as if searching for something she placed there. “You have one of those faces, you know?”

Jungkook raises his eyebrows, lips parted to speak, but nothing comes out. 

Is she flirting with me or giving me a hard time? DAMN!

“I have an ordinary face?” Jungkook wonders after a moment.

“Either that or my memory is failing me,” she says, sighing and shaking her head. “Which do you think it is?”

“I don't have an ordinary face,” Jungkook says in a small voice, “I have piercings on my face.”

“That’s true…” she’s watching the ground and suddenly looks into his eyes again. She holds his stare unblinking, and then her lips pull back into a big smile showing off cute bunny teeth. Just like me. “I’ve always had a good memory; I was just kidding.”

“Oh,” Jungkook says, blushing.

He can smell her perfume when a cold breeze blows past him, carrying her real-life presence and enveloping him in it. It’s sweet and mixed with a scent of detergent he recognizes, and he’s watching how strands of her hair float beside her face. She’s so cute. Damnnnn.

“You should open the door for the ladies,” Rei says, raising an eyebrow, and stepping closer, she says, “Just harmless advice. Stranger .”

“I will consider that,” he replies, avoiding her fixed stare, attempting to ignore how she’s riled him up with a loud clearing of his throat. But his chest is on fire, his heart thudding hard against his rib cage at her closeness. “My patio, though. Did you fall? I heard a thud.”

“Are you flirting with me? I’ve heard that pickup line before, but yours sounds a little different.”

He smiles. “I wouldn’t use pickup lines like those with you.”

She laughs, and he internally swoons. If he were a cartoon, his heart would burst out of his chest in comical dramatic thuds, his pupils heart-shaped.

“I’m kidding. I know I’m giving you a hard time when I’m on your patio at three in the morning, but I can explain why I’m here,” Rei mimics Jungkook’s movements by crossing her arms across her chest, her lower lip trembling, “but can I come in? It’s cold out, and I'm in the worst attire for this weather.” She gestures vaguely at her exposed legs, and Jungkook’s stare lingers before she notices—so he responds with a nod as he gestures for her to follow him inside. “Though you might have me beat. You came out here without a shirt, damn.”

Leading the way, he blushes at her comment and gives his head a light shake. She’s so talkative! Yoongi was right about her.

With a dreamy air about him, he remembers Namjoon’s words. Except now, all he remembers is: “You need to take some chances. Luck turns out; it does.”

Inside, Jungkook excuses himself to his room to change into a shirt. He reaches for his glasses beside his bed and goes to the closet. “Shirt, shirt, shirt,” he mutters as his hands sift through empty hangers. When was the last time he did laundry? He groans. “Shirt?” he reaches to pick up a heap of white clothing in the deep corner of the closet. He brings the shirt to his nose, sniffs, and walks back into the room, raising an eyebrow and nodding with approval. His hands are shaky as he maneuvers his head through a t-shirt sleeve in a panicked rush. He yanks the shirt off again, the t-shirt now inside out and knotted up in his grip; he groans as his fingers work the fabric. What if she’s gone when I go back out there? Agh, what if I’m dreaming all of this up, and lack of sleep is finally getting to me?

Rei’s voice comes through the walls, and though this is their first official meeting, he knows she’s smiling as she calls out to him. “You okay in there?”

Smoothing out the wrinkles on the shirt, he glances at his reflection behind the bedroom door before stepping out, his chest heaving and his nostrils flaring. “I’m okay; all is OK. Sorry.” He offers her a thumbs up and a big goofy grin that makes her laugh.

“Did you go on a hike without me?” She asks from her seat on his couch. She rests her face on her palm, looking up at him as he walks past toward the kitchen.

“Hike? I just put the shirt on; it was fighting me, though.”

“No, I meant,” she shakes her head, laughing. “I meant that as a while for changing into a shirt. Bad joke, sorry.”

“Ah,” Jungkook says.

“You’re wearing glasses,” she comments, her eyes looking over his face.

“I am,” he says, glancing her way.

It looks like she wants to say something else but doesn't.

He raises his eyebrows, nodding and tonguing the inside of his cheek. It doesn't happen often, but he doesn't know what to say. He walks into the kitchen with his hands in his pockets. “Do you drink tea?” He wonders as he fills a kettle with water and sets it to boil.

Rei nods, stretching her legs before her and craning her neck back to look up at the ceiling. “Chamomile or whatever you have, I’m not picky.” She points a finger above her head, motioning for him to look. “Those are stars. Is this wallpaper? It looks pretty. Is it glow-in-the-dark?”

Jungkook is in the kitchen, his eyes watching how her finger moves in a swift motion of the length of the ceiling. He thinks about how her hand felt in his grip and wishes he’d been more present. “It’s… I don’t know, actually. It’s not a wallpaper; it’s carved into the ceiling, and yes, it glows but not like the bright green; it’s softer.” He looks at her, and she scrunches her eyebrows in confusion. “Want to see?”

She twists her body to look at him, her smile so big he can’t help but return the affection. “Yes. Show me.”

“Grab the remote beside you; turn off the lights with it.”

She clicks the lights off, and the gasp she lets out makes his heart flutter in his chest. Aside from the hard thudding in his chest, the only sounds nearby are the buzzing of the refrigerator, the ice machine rolling out handfuls of freshly carved-out cubes, and the bubbling water in the kettle. Jungkook doesn't dare disturb the quiet; he’s leaning against the kitchen table, wanting her to stay. He looks for her in the dark, his eyes finding her silhouette on the couch, his lips pulling back into a smile. She’s better than in his daydreams; she smells sweet and of detergent, and she feels like a real person just like him, so near but out of his reach. And here, in the same room as him, so close to him, Jungkook realizes she could’ve left by now but hasn’t.

“I’d love it if I had this on my ceiling,” Rei pouts, “want to trade?” She clicks the lights back on, and Jungkook blinks, slowly adjusting to the brightness.

He pretends to mull it over, humming and tonguing his cheek. He puts on his best-thinking face. “No way, but you can come over and look at the stars when it's overcast or raining outside.” He walks toward the stove, where the water boils in the kettle. With his back turned to her, he’s hiding his blushing face as he sets two cups out before him.

“I think that sounds nice,” she replies, surprising him. “So what, I walk outside sometime, see a gray sky, and come downstairs to see you? ‘Hey, neighbor, can I see the stars?’ and you say, ‘Come in, I’ve just made cocoa, would you like some?’ and I say, ‘Thank you, are you sure?’ and then you say, ‘Sure’ except I never leave because I like the stars so much and you don’t know how to tell me I should go home.”

“Oh, that’s a good conversation. Is that what you’d like me to make? I like hot cocoa,” Jungkook says, brushing the hair out of his eyes. “You think I'd want you to leave?”

“Well, if I were here all the time….” she looks at him through her lashes, and he catches her eyes and raises an eyebrow at her, a playful smirk on his lips. And she shakes her head, laughing. “Do you mean it, though?”

“About you coming to see the stars whenever you’d like?” Jungkook asks, leaning against the kitchen island. She nods at him in two slow motions of her head. “Yes, I mean it.”

“The skies are unusually gray these days, aren’t they?”

“I’ve noticed that too,” he says, opening the fridge. He grabs a box of cherries and shuts the door with his elbow. “But no rain.”

“Exactly, I told my friend Kimi; she lives with me upstairs and is almost a sister to me, except we have different parents. Well, I told her, ‘Haven't you noticed how it looks like it’s going to rain every day, but it never does?’ and she says, ‘Rei, it rains. It just happens to be when you’re asleep,’ and can you believe it? I woke up yesterday, and it was early, not like tonight, but early for me, and I looked outside my window, and there was dew sticking to the glass, and it was all sweaty when I touched the windowpane, and I realized she was right, it rained during the night, and I just missed it. Isn't that something so lame?”

“Huh,” Jungkook says, chewing on a cherry and offering the box to her. She shakes her head no and mouths a ‘Thank you’ to him. “So we’re off asleep and just missing the rain, so it always works out that we’re missing out on something during the day. It’s always like that. Kimi sees the rain, and you’re off sleeping, but you probably get to see other things I miss when I’m taking a nap and on and on.”

“That’s true. But I thought about catching it tonight. When I went to bed hours ago, I kept thinking about the rain and wondering if I stayed up, I might see it, and it wouldn’t just feel like I kept missing it and living the same gray day.”

“It’s like Santa Claus,” Jungkook says, scrunching his nose as he tongues a cherry stem in his mouth, “waiting up all night for him to show up just for you to see your dad dressed up as Santa and realize he’s been putting the presents down there for years.”

Rei laughs at this and covers her face with her hands like she’s protecting her laugh from anything sharp. “Your dad did that? For real?”

Jungkook scrunches his eyebrows and pinches his nose bridge, and with a tone of feigned affliction, he says, “Yeah, he did. I knew the truth before a lot of my classmates.”

“How old were you? When he ruined Santa Claus. Do you remember a thing like that, like how old you were?” She rests her chin on her palm like she’s weighing her head. He thinks she looks cute like that but doesn’t say anything.

“I don't know exactly, but I was in the third year of school,” Jungkook says, suddenly thinking back on his infancy. He chews his lower lip when the answer suddenly comes to him, and he remembers the conversation he had with the guys a while back. They’d all taunted Seokjin when they found out Seokjin didn't know the truth about Santa until he was thirteen. “I was seven. I can't believe I remembered that. I was seven….” His mouth hangs open, and he remembers what he wore when he first saw his dad hunched over behind the tree with a gift in hand— a white flannel pajama set and his mother’s slippers. Where has this memory been hiding?  “Damn.”

“I was six,” she says, smiling. “My childhood was ruined a year before yours. Or wait, are we the same age? I just assumed we were.” She laughs again, bringing a hand up to her face to hide her smile.

“I assumed the same thing,” Jungkook admits, feeling his cheeks redden. “I’m twenty-five.”

“Oh wow,” she says, almost to herself. “Me too.”

He doesn't know what else to do but clear his throat and nod.  He never imagined getting this far (whatever that means). He’ll struggle to explain this later when Namjoon asks—Jungkook knows he’ll ask.

The kettle begins to whistle, and he’s reaching for the two coffee mugs as she says something behind him he doesn't catch. And he turns his head over his shoulder and nods at her. “What happened? Sorry, I didn't catch that.”

“I said, ‘You don't have to do that for me.’” She turns her head away as she says this, her long hair cascading along her profile, hiding her.

“I have a visitor,” he says, turning over to look at her with a grin. “I have good manners.”

“Oh, sure, manners,” she replies, rolling her eyes at him like a friend he’s known for years. “Is that my tea? It smells amazing.”

“It is, but it’s hot, so let’s leave it here.” Jungkook offers her a tight-lipped smile, shyly making his way toward her. “Mind if I sit next to you?”

“No, not at all; come, sit.” She pats the spot beside her and scoots over to make room for him. “Thank you for the tea and for letting me in. I know it’s late.”

Jungkook glances at the clock on the kitchen stove. 3:55. “It’s not that late. I was awake anyway, so I didn’t mind.” He’s toying with his lip ring again. “Why were you out there anyway?”

It’s been some time since Jungkook’s been this close to a girl. He feels his heart thudding away in his chest, her presence stirring up a desire that’s been dormant. Loose strands of hair frame her face, and his eyes follow her movements as she brushes the strands away. She looks embarrassed, her cheeks reddening. Still, he finds her so cute. “Truth?”

“Yes.” He scrunches his nose when he smiles at her.

“I locked myself out of my apartment. Before bed, I stepped out into my patio for a smoke and to read more of my book. I was also trying to test my rain suspicions to see if I could catch it while it happened. So, I’m out there romanticizing my life, pretending I’m in a movie; you know how we act when we’re alone and suddenly want to be poetic?” She looks at Jungkook, and he nods lightly. “That was me, except I got cold right away and said, ‘Oh fuck this, I’m going to bed,’ and that’s when I realized I’d locked the back door, and I was so mad I almost cried.” She places her fingertips against her forehead, continuing her recounting. “So, of course, I get the idea of calling a locksmith, but they’re closed; I don’t know what people should do if they need help during the night.”

“Most people sleep, I think.”

She clicks her tongue. “Right, some people do, but you and I are not those people, right?” She draws an imaginary line with her forefinger from her chest toward him. He nods and feigns oblivious as his leg brushes against her bare thigh as she shifts in her seat. “So, not only is every locksmith not available, but my service is horrible, so I am standing on my tiptoes trying to get a bar, and my phone slips. My heart almost burst.” She brings a hand to her chest for visual effect, and his eyes watch her chest as it rises and falls with each breath. He’s smiling at her—a wide smile that hurts his cheeks. “If it weren’t for your patio, my phone would be shattered to hell on the ground. I look over my balcony, and for the first time, I notice how close our balconies are.” Rei presses her hands over her thighs, leaning forward in her seat and fixing her eyes on the glass patio door across from her. “I mean, I’m sure you’ve noticed, but I don’t go out there much. Anyway, I’m rambling. I noticed I could jump directly into your patio because there’s a mattress out there, and well….” She makes a motion with her hands that says: ‘ Ya know?’

“You weren’t scared of jumping? The balconies are close, but we’re still six stories up.” Jungkook rests his hands on his knees, fully invested in this story; his eyes never leave her. She forms a tight line with her lips and gives him a serious look that makes him laugh. “Ok, so you were scared.”

“I was scared! But there’s a mattress out there, you know,” she says in a small voice. She’s blushing and scratching at the side of her nose to avoid his eyes.

Jungkook notices this and clicks his tongue, leaning back in his seat.  “So it was not an accident, then?” He raises an eyebrow at her, sucking his teeth in feigned disapproval.

The truth is, he’s not mad about it; he wants her here. He almost feels like he is in a dream.

“Not entirely. Don’t ask me how I thought about returning to my place after retrieving my phone because I didn’t think that far ahead.”

“Oh, there’s a mattress out there. You could’ve just slept there; no big deal,” Jungkook says with a laugh. Rei brings a hand to her face to hide behind, making a groaning sound. “I’m sorry; I don’t mean to laugh at you. I just don't know what to think— this has never happened before.”

“And it won’t happen again; let’s hope.” She laughs, and it’s different from before; it sounds deeper like she reached into herself and decided to really show him. And Jungkook likes the sound of her laugh but does not comment. She moves a few strands of hair from her face and rests her cheek on her hand, leaning on the couch's armrest. It’s slowly dawning on Jungkook how badly he wants her. What am I supposed to do with her this close to me? Damn. “So, what’s your name? You didn’t say when I told you mine.”

He rises from the couch, remembering their tea.

“Jeon Jungkook,” he says as he pours the tea, “I guess I forgot to introduce myself. Huh.”

Rei’s looking at him with her chin in her hand and a serious look on her face as he’s walking toward her with an outstretched hand in offering. “It’s chamomile,” Jungkook announces.

“Jeon Jungkook,” She repeats with a light smile. “I like it. I don’t know any other Jungkooks.”

“Yeah? I’ve had this name for a long time. I like it too.”

She takes the cup and brings it to her face, inhaling the scent and shivering, and says, “Thank you again. This tea smells sweet. It reminds me of this tea my grandmother used to make my sister and me when we were kids. She would put a little bit of honey, the real kind, and peppermint leaves; it was….” She sighs longingly. “I miss that tea; this smells like home.”

Sitting beside her, he takes a sip of tea, his gaze on her unmoving. Her lips part as she blows gently, the steam rising from the cup in lazy strokes. Jungkook’s heartbeat quickens when she matches his stare with her deep dark eyes that seem to look for something in his.

“This tea has honey, but I doubt it’s the real kind you mentioned, but I still think it’s good.” He clears his throat, looking away as he adjusts his glasses on his nose bridge.

“I like your glasses. I wanted to say that earlier,” Rei comments, taking a sip of her tea, “I don't know why I didn't say anything.” She moves around in her seat, tucking her legs beneath her, then asks, “Can I wear them? Are they prescription?”

“They’re just reading glasses. You can wear them. I put them on sometimes just because they suit me,” he pulls his glasses off, wipes the lenses on his shirt, and hands them over.

“Ah, so you like how they look on you,” she says, her eyes gleaming as she takes the glasses from him and sets them on her face. “How do they look?”

If he were a cartoon character from one of his comics, he’d have melted into a puddle, exploded like dynamite, turned into stardust, and returned to his original self. Except, she’s a real person just like he is, flesh and blood and so beautiful, and he’s off in space being reborn.

“Look at me,” he motions for her to turn his way. She looks straight at him, wearing his glasses and blushing at his attention. She begins to unfold in front of him, her playful demeanor softening. “You look pretty. If they weren't my prescription, I would give them to you.”

“Here, they’re hurting my eyes,” she says, laughing. She removes the glasses and starts rubbing her eyes with closed fists. “You’re sweet, though. I couldn't take a guy’s glasses. How will he go on drinking his tea and letting me in to watch the stars?”

Jungkook feels a warmth spread in his chest. God, how is she real? He runs his fingers through his long hair and coughs once, then again. His nerves are getting to him. She’s too close to him, her bare thigh soft against his leg. He begins to count backward in his head.

“Were you really awake already, or did I wake you?” She asks him all of a sudden. Her eyes stay on him as if waiting for him to say something else.

“You don’t believe me? I was awake. Swear.” He raises his free hand at his side.

She appears to mull that over for a bit, bringing her cup of tea to her lips but not taking a sip. “What were you doing?”

Jungkook is silent, and she sits unmoving until he speaks.

What was I doing? Besides dreading another deadline? Thinking about a comic I might not submit or thinking about not having a shot in hell with a girl like you? Images of the times they’ve run into each other flick by in his head like a slow PowerPoint slide. The registration office, desolate stairwells, crowded evacuations, elevators closing, Rei standing in front of him in a summer dress with a strange look on her face; Rei on his back patio, hunched over with a phone near her face; Rei in his apartment, on his couch, next to him. He feels the adam’s apple in his throat rising and falling. He’s been quiet for who knows how long.

“Thinking, I guess.” He breathes out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “I don’t know why I took so long to say that. It sounded boring in my head, so I had to think if there was something else I forgot about.”

“That is pretty boring, just thinking. But that’s life, though, isn’t it? Kind of boring sometimes.”

Jungkook nods, blushing and avoiding looking at her. What if she can read minds? He straightens his posture and runs his fingers through his hair again, his eyes fixed on the ceiling of carved-out stars. It’s OK. It’s OK. She’s still here.

The living room is almost dead silent. Jungkook notices how Rei sips her tea and looks over the area. It’s neat, for the most part. Bam’s toys lay scattered near the laundry room entrance, along with some of Jungkook’s dirty socks the dog likes to chew on, and Bam’s food bowls are resting up against the wall beside his doghouse. The potted plants Namjoon gifted Jungkook are still alive and pop against the beige coloring of the walls in front of them. The TV is massive, his Playstation console resting on its side. Her eyes find the corner shelf where Jungkook’s Marvel figurines are on display behind glass doors, and she turns to look at him with a sparkle in her wide eyes. “Are those yours?” She gestures with her thumb. He nods, chewing his lower lip anxiously. “Can I look?” She rises from her seat when he motions for her to go on. Like standing in a museum, she silently peers into the display with her hands clasped behind her back.

“I just got that case a few days ago when I got that plant next to you,” Jungkook remarks, joining her.

“I remember,” she says distractedly.

“You remember?” His eyebrows raise, and he looks at her fixedly, bringing a fingernail to his mouth. He scrunches his eyebrows, rubbing at his forehead with his fingers; he remembers, too.

He’d bumped into Rei on his way upstairs, both arms holding the bonsai trees obstructing his view, taking long strides up the stairs, chanting to himself and grunting in rhythm. He was on the 50th stair.

“Hey!” A voice shouted at him. “What the hell?”

Jerking to the side of the staircase, flattening against it, Jungkook jumped at this voice. “Sorry! You’re okay?”

The voice struck him as familiar, but mostly, he was surprised he wasn't alone on the staircase. The person laughed a lively laugh, and he felt his chest tighten. He lowered the plants, meeting her eyes. “I’m okay,” she said, shaking her head. She grinned at him, and his heart gave a squeeze. “These things happen. I should take the elevator next time.”

“The plants, I mean. You walked past me going up the stairs and hit me on the head with it.” She glances to her right, catching his eyes briefly. He groans, nodding lightly. She continues, voicing their shared memory, “You were carrying two pots of plants that day and lost your balance or something like that.”

He nods with his eyes closed, his eyebrows drawn close together as he tongues his cheek. “I remember, too,” he opens his eyes to look over at her as he continues, “sorry again. My friend told me not to do that, and I didn’t listen.”

A Spiderman figurine holds her attention, and she’s smiling. He feels his cheeks burn at her sincere gesture. She pretends not to notice and says, “You like running into me like that, then?”

“Like how? It was an accident,” Jungkook says, standing beside her and stretching his arms behind his head.

“Riiiiight,” she says, smirking. “Accident.”

“I didn’t know you were in the stairwell. No one takes the stairs,” Jungkook counters, his voice taking on a defensive edge.

“I take the stairs, I like the exercise, and it’s less embarrassing for me,” She admits. “Running in front of people just looks so stupid. I get too worked up about it and think people are just laughing at me, and they might be, but this way, I can do it in private.”

“Running across the street when cars let you pass is very embarrassing for no reason,” Jungkook says with a laugh. “And okay, fair. I took the stairs that time just because the wait for the elevator was so long. I didn’t mean to hit you that time either.”

“Jungkook, we have to stop meeting like this.” She gives her head a light shake and looks down at her hands. She picks at the glitter on her nails distractedly. “So many accidents. We’re too clumsy.”

“I know what you mean. Namjoon told me to leave one of the plants in the lobby, but I was too impatient. I’m like that sometimes.” He can’t seem to stop blushing.

But Jungkook has to agree. There have been too many accidents in their run-ins with each other, and he remembers each encounter with extreme detail.

Jungkook saw her for the first time when he moved in and face-planted into her back as she stood by the entrance of the registration office. But it didn't happen right away, at least.

The office was big and bustling with sounds. Jungkook walked in, asked out loud if there was a line, and someone nearby replied that yes, there was a line, and he was right at the tail of it. He bounced on the heels of his feet, humming a melody to himself, tapping his fingers against the sides of his legs. A TV across from him played a K-Pop music video of a group he’d never heard of. Beneath the TV was a table with a Terra Kaffe espresso machine accompanied by a spread of dan-pat bbang, songpyeon, bingsu, and reusable cups. His stomach grumbled, but he kept still, willing himself to look away.

Rei stood in line, a foot or two in front of Jungkook, sporting her hair pulled back, secured neatly with a clip the shape of a butterfly. She wore casual clothing: a black long-sleeve sweatshirt, baggy pants, and white Nike shoes. She had earbuds in, and he could hear the muffled sounds of a guitar, and though he did not fully understand why, he smiled.

“Next in line, please,” a woman behind a glass window called out, taking an uninspired sip of her iced coffee as she waved a hand toward her. “Come on, next in line.”

Jungkook wore a black t-shirt, navy plaid bottoms, and socks with slides, though standing there, he began to regret his attire. His eyes looked over the office, and mentally, he tallied the number of girls he spotted. Nine. He felt his cheeks warming up, his neck growing hot, and when he looked over to his right, a girl waved at him, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. He blushed, nodding at her. Why hadn’t he worn something nicer?

He was adjusting his sock, balancing on his right leg, when a dog ran past him, toppling him over. He hopped on his right leg, his arms flailing at his sides, and his face instantly smashed into Rei’s back. If he had a chance to do it over, he wouldn’t have cried out so loud. Even now, months later, he cringes at the memory. He’d turned away, cupping his aching nose after she whipped her head over her shoulder at the sudden impact. Their eyes met briefly, her pupils dark and wide; she mouthed something to him, his ears ringing, all of the sounds around him muddled into incoherence.

“I’m so sorry. Excuse me,” Jungkook mumbled, turning at his heel and speed-walking past a group of girls that giggled when he passed them.

Jungkook thought about her all day after that first day. While he unpacked, walked Bam, and cooked for himself later in the evening. She was pretty, sure, but there was something else. Something he couldn’t break apart and understand— it was new and brought on a strange sensation and desire to know her. He didn't know it then, but he’d see so much of her it would become nearly impossible not to think of her.

And here they are, five months later.

“You agree, don't you?” Rei prods. “Maybe you’re the clumsy one, Jungkook. I was just standing there.” She says that like she knows what he’s thinking. That first day they saw each other. She’s thought of it too.

He swoons at the sound of his name escaping her lips again. “Jungkook,” he mouths, taking it in—not wanting to forget how it sounds when she says it.

She turns on her heel, returning to the couch and fetching her phone from between the cushions. Her backside faces Jungkook, and he shyly lowers his gaze when he catches a glimpse of her ass in shorts that do a poor job of hiding anything. “I’m impatient too, as you know now,” she offers, looking down at her phone, her face illuminated with the screen's glow. She reads something and has a serious look on her face. “It’s getting late, isn’t it?”

He squints at the clock on the stove. 4:27. “Yeah, I guess so,” he replies, trying to hide his disappointment.

“Your figures are cool, by the way. They look like the real deal. Are they?”

He nods silently, tonguing his lip ring. Jungkook watches her with a gut-wrenching desire to step forward and take her face into his hands and kiss her.

“You’re a Marvel geek. I'm guessing,” she says, staring down at the ground. It’s like she’s suddenly shy. Her voice is quieter. “I like some of the movies. I saw the new Spider-man with my friends last week. I’m late, I know.”

“I have Disney plus,” Jungkook says, his eyes looking her over. “And I’m not trying to say anything like the ramen stuff, you know, all that stuff people say to each other recently to get together. It’s a real offer.”

Rei laughs, bringing a hand to cover her face. “So you don't want to get together?” She looks at him with a deep intensity in her eyes and smiles coyly, making Jungkook swallow hard.

“I said that, didn't I? That’s not what I meant. It’s just that nowadays, words have different meanings. Let me rephrase-”

She takes a step closer to him, and his chest feels ablaze. She’s so close he can smell the fragrance of her clothing much clearer than before. We use the same detergent.

“I’d like to come by sometime,” she says, her eyes lingering on his hands holding his cup, “for a movie, no ramen.” Now she smiles warmly and takes a step back.

She likes doing this to me. It’s torture.

“Really?”

“Yeah, why not? You seem nice. I don’t think you’d be a freak, right?”

“Right,” he says, nodding.

“I know we’re technically strangers, but you have a good vibe,” she says, shrugging. “I show up here so late, and you serve me tea. You’re a nice guy.”

“Am I?”

“I think so. Are you?” She quirks up an eyebrow, twitching her lips between a smile and a laugh.

Jungkook smiles at her. He feels his cheeks growing warm. “I am. I don’t know why I challenged you about it.”

“Because you like to flirt with me, I think,” she retorts, crossing her arms across her chest.

“I’m just a nice guy,” he says as he places his palms  against the kitchen counter for balance, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Uh-huh.” She glances at her phone screen, reading the time, and Jungkook does the same with the time on the kitchen stove. She's going to leave. I can feel it.

“I guess I should get going…”. Rei looks apologetic for some reason. A pink shade colors her cheeks, and she brings a hand to her forehead and lets out a deep breath as she says, “Kinda hot in here, no?”

Jungkook wants to tell her she doesn't have to go and that he doesn't want her to, but he only offers her a timid smile and looks away, nodding in agreement. “A little. I’ve been feeling it too,” he says, looking at her and catching her eyes.

Should I move now? Is it now? My move? Will she kiss me back?

Still, he brings his cup of tea to his lips as she stores her phone in the pocket of her hoodie, and she pauses as if remembering something. “And why is there a mattress outside?”

He’s drinking his tea and begins to choke. Coughing, his chest on fire, and his throat closing in, Jungkook rushes to double over his sink, and she’s standing behind him with a wrought-up look.

“Are you okay?” She steps closer to him, lightly touching his arm.

Jungkook coughs, clearing his throat; he can feel the blood rushing to his face as his eyes instinctively shed tears. The feeling of her touch on his arm feels like fire. “Sorry, I don’t know what happened. The uh, the mattress?” He looks toward his patio, a panicked look in his eyes behind the tear-stained glasses. He pauses, looking down at the floor. “I have them all over, so I can nap when I feel like it.”

She throws her head back and laughs, not taking him seriously until silence hangs between them. She raises an eyebrow. “Wait, really?” With that, her phone goes off in her pocket, and she reaches for it. “Sorry, one sec.”

He leaves her to talk on the phone with whoever and walks over to pick up Bam’s toys and dirty socks to throw in a hamper. Jungkook can hear the muffled phone conversation a room over, so he hums a song. She speaks in a hushed voice, but he hears his name mentioned.

He coughs before he reappears in the kitchen.

She’s humming to herself, lingering by the door, and his heart squeezes. ‘Don’t go,’ he wants to say. ‘Stay.’

“I should go…” she says, not budging from where she stands, chewing her lower lip, looking at Jungkook through full eyelashes. Almost as if waiting for him to interject, and him, not knowing how to.

“If you want,” Jungkook says. He swallows hard at a lump in his throat. The plead to have her stay pushed down into his chest.

DAMN!! 

A look he can’t decipher takes over her face, and then the next moment, she’s smiling at him, reaching for the doorknob just as he does. They share an embarrassed exchange of looks when their hands touch, and he shakes his head, an anxious chuckle escaping him. His face feels warm as he pulls the door open for her. Rei steps out into the hallway, turns over her shoulder, and raises her hand to wave at him slowly.

Again, he yearns to kiss her and again lacks the courage.

“Bye, it was nice meeting you, Jungkook.”

“Goodnight, Rei,” he replies, leaning on the doorframe, his heart sinking into his stomach.

The next day, Jungkook is cooking for himself. He submitted his comic in the morning and has endlessly replayed last night’s events in his head.

“I should’ve kissed her,” he says to Bam.

Jungkook’s phone pings a few times and is followed by a call. He answers, distracted as he serves himself bibimmyeon and pork belly. He props the phone between his chin and ear, tilting his head comically as he walks back and forward to the table, setting down a steaming bowl of sticky rice. “‘Ey, Namjoon-hyung!…” He drags the chair out from underneath and settles in front of his plate. Jungkook reaches over the table, yanks a paper towel, grabs his chopsticks, and begins digging into the rice. “Wait,” he glances at the clock on the wall. 6:47. “It’s almost seven,” Jungkook says, confused. “Your meeting with the record executive started at six… it ended that quickly?”

Namjoon smiles. “The meeting was quick. I have really good news.” He pauses for effect. He’s in the studio, eyeing the email on screen. “Hold on,” he says, placing the phone on the desk and turning the speaker on.

 Jungkook is chewing his cheek, the chopsticks loosening in his grip. He lets the silence exist for a few seconds, then he rubs the back of his hair, leaning back in his chair, his spare hand fisted over his mouth. “What?” He grumbles into his fist.

“He liked my demo. He had some comments about it but said it would do well. He said everyone else liked it; whatever that means, we’re in. He said we can come in for a group meeting where we introduce the guys, and that way, we can all talk about what we want to do going forward.”

Jungkook is speechless; they’re in. All seven of them. He can’t believe it. He stares wide-eyed at Bam, who tilts his head quizzically. “No way. No way. Is this for real?” Jungkook’s heart is thudding so hard he can see it beneath his shirt.

“I swear, Jungkook. It is.”

“Do the guys know?” Once more, Jungkook meets the eyes of his dog, and he’s smiling so hard he feels his nose scrunch.

“Some of them do, yeah. I was with Jimin earlier.”

“Yoongi,” Jungkook says, bringing his palm over his forehead. Smiling with his eyes crinkling, he feeds himself rice. “Yoongi will be so happy. We all are, you know but him .” Jungkook makes a sound with his teeth. “He’ll be so proud of all of us.”

“I know, I know. Yoongi hasn’t slept well since we first submitted our demos, and when I mentioned I had a meeting with an executive, he grabbed his jacket and took off to the studio. I don’t know what he’s been doing when he comes in, but I know he might cry.”

“I might cry too,” Jungkook admits in a hushed voice.

Namjoon wipes at his eyes, and a silence hangs between them. They’re both sniveling on the receiving end. After Jungkook clears his throat and allows himself another sniffle, he starts eating again.

“What did you make?”

“I have a lot of rice left. I made bibimmyeon and pork belly, but I have some noodles, too, if you want me to make them. Come and eat with me if you’re free. Let’s celebrate.”

“Can I leave my bike outside?” Namjoon asks. Namjoon shuts off the shared laptop in the studio, grabs his puffer jacket and the book he’s been reading, heads over, and flips off the light switch. His phone remains on speaker as he locks the door and shoots a glance down the hallway. From a distance, Yoongi does a quick two-finger salute in passing. Namjoon’s heart gives a squeeze.

Jungkook thinks it over. He’s never seen anyone leave a bike outside. “I don't know, honestly. Bring it to my apartment; it’ll be fine. I have something to tell you, by the way,” he says, referring to the previous night.

“Just saw Yoongi,” Namjoon says, jingling the keys on his finger and making his way out of the building. “I have to tell him, but I think he’s already in his studio locked up. You know how he gets.”

“He won’t let you in,” Jungkook says, scrunching his nose and stifling a laugh through a mouthful of steak.

“Exactly. And what is it? I’m bringing my bike, I thought about leaving it chained, but it’ll stress me out.”

“He’s almost done with his demos, Hobi said the other day,” Jungkook replies. “But it’s about her, bro. You won’t believe me.”

Namjoon laughs through the phone. “Mystery-neighbor-crush her, you mean?”

“Neighbor stuff, am I that annoying? Don't answer that. I’ll leave the door unlocked for you; just come in because I have to wash Bam.”

“All right, bro, give me twenty, and I’ll be there.”

Jungkook is sitting across from Namjoon, who raises an eyebrow at him as he chews on his steak. “So she came in here,” he swallows his bite and continues, “was on that couch?” he signals with his chopsticks, “and she went home after that?”

Jungkook nods. The moment he’s been dreading: admitting he chickened out. He’s not proud of himself and debates whether to omit a few things.

“Yeah, what else could’ve happened?” He takes a drink of his water, avoiding Namjoon’s gaze.

“So many things, bro. But, the very least that should have happened is that you got her number or something like that. Did you ask?”

Jungkook is quiet. His cheeks are flushing with heat. He’s chuckling at himself, remembering how he clammed up around her.

“You just let her leave, right? She walked out, thanked you, and you probably made her a tea she didn't drink.” Namjoon is laughing when Jungkook groans and shakes a fist above his head. “Ah, Jungkook!”

“I know!” Jungkook shakes his head. “But I got a name. I got a name; that’s something, isn't it?”

“Well?”

“It’s Rei. I don’t know where she’s from and all that, but that name just suits her, doesn't it?”

“It does, it does. But come on, bro! This girl lives so close!  For starters, she stuck around. She could've just left after explaining herself. Instead, she sat down right where you’re sitting and stayed .” Namjoon feeds himself rice as he shakes his head and continues while he chews, “She looked at you the last time we evacuated; I saw her. And how many times have you bumped into her already? She probably thinks you’re out to get her.”

“I know. I kept thinking the same. I thought: ‘She could've left by now, but she hasn’t. I don’t know, hyung, I just froze. I just kept nodding; it was so stupid.” Jungkook closes his eyes and places his fingertips over his eyelids, shaking his head in lament.

“Not stupid, bro,” Namjoon offers, swallowing his bite. “I’ve seen her around too, and she’s really pretty, but it’s a weird sensation when she’s nearby; it’s like her beauty is different. I don't mean it like I want her now, nothing like that, but it sort of feels like I am stuck too. Like, what can I say right now?”

Jungkook nods, understanding the sentiment. “It knocks the wind out of me sometimes when I see her,” he says, reaching for a napkin. “I wanted to say so much more, but I couldn't. It was different being close to her like we were. This girl is killing me, Namjoon-hyung. You said she looked at me?”

Namjoon smiles warmly. “She did, at the evacuation a week ago. Was it a week now?” He wipes at his mouth and looks at Jungkook expectantly. Jungkook nods at him. “Well, a week ago, I went out last and caught her looking your way. She had her hand like this,” he brings his hand up to shield his eyes against nothing, “and she was smiling. She didn't see me noticing.”

Jungkook scoots closer. He rests his chin on Namjoon’s knee, looking straight at him until he’s cross-eyed. “At me?” he asks, loving that this happened.

Namjoon shakes his leg free and takes a sip of his water. “I think she likes you. She was looking at you the same way I’ve seen you look at her,” Namjoon reaches for his phone, checks a text, and continues, “so she would’ve been into you. Did she flirt with you?”

Jungkook mulls it over. He doesn't want to read too much into it, but he thinks she did flirt. “I could be wrong, and I’d hate to be wrong,” he says, “but I feel like she was into me, like, actually into me, and I thought about kissing her. Would that have been too forward?”

“Hmm,” Namjoon says as he chews his food. “Maybe. I have to see you two in action, to say. I think you can trust your gut, and if you felt that way, maybe she was giving you those vibes on purpose, you know? Sometimes girls are so forward that it's confusing. Like, ‘am I reading this wrong?’ When the whole time there was only one way to read it.” He gives his head a light shake.

“She was talkative like Yoongi predicted.”

“Oh, was she now?” Namjoon looks surprised. “I sided with Jimin when he said she seemed shy and kind of mean. Not mean, but you know the mean look girls have that makes them look kind of cool?”

Jungkook nods with a mouthful of steak.

“That’s actually interesting that she was talkative. That’s good. I think you’d do bad to get with a shy chick again.”

Jungkook once dated a girl in high school he didn't know how to talk to, and when he meant to break things off, he’d just ignored her for the entire year. She was too shy, too quiet, too reserved. He was everything else but.

“I agree with you on that,” Jungkook says honestly. “Back to Rei, she’s even prettier up close, hyung. I thought I was in a dream, that sounds so cheesy, but it’s true.”

“It was, what, four in the morning?”

“Three. Close to four.”

“Exactly. I would think that's a dream too. Seems like it. Are you sure you’re not messing with me?” Namjoon elbows Jungkook lightly.

“I want her. Is that so pathetic?”

“A little bit,” Namjoon teases, bringing his thumb and pointer finger to a slight pinch. “Like this tiny little space right here is where you live.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes as he walks into the kitchen for a beer.

“Honestly, Jungkook, I think she likes you back. Pass me the rice. Want some of the steaks?” He shows Jungkook his bowl, and Jungkook accepts, opening his mouth to be fed. “You can feed yourself.”

“Ah,” Jungkook says, mouth agape. “Just one piece.”

Namjoon is feeding Jungkook rice when the doorbell rings. The two exchange bewildered looks, and Jungkook shuffles from the ground, sliding on the flooring with his socks as he peers through the peephole. He falls to the ground as if shot, crouching with a deathly look about him.

Namjoon shifts in his seat on the floor and, stretching his neck, asks Jungkook who it is. Over and over, quietly, he’s asking who’s at the door.

Jungkook doesn't answer until Namjoon stands. He shoots a hand up to grab Namjoon’s sleeve, motioning him to crouch beside him. Whispering, he says, “It’s Rei; what do I do?”

“Get up!”

“I can't. I can't. I don't know what she wants. What if she knows?”

“Knows what? Get up; I’m opening the door in 3, 2,...”

Jungkook stands. He can feel his heart beating viciously, and his hands are sweating. He glares at Namjoon, raising his hand and motioning for a cutthroat. “I’ll kill you,” he mouths as his friend walks away.

Jungkook peers into the peephole and sees her turning away. He pulls back the door quickly, causing her to turn around. She smiles, and he wants her all over again. His relaxed demeanor vanished. “Hey, what’s going on?” are his first words.

Rei laughs, and he can feel himself blushing. He drops his head when he remembers Namjoon is a witness.

“Hey, neighbor,” she says, smiling the same coy smile she lent him last night. She pulls a paper from her pocket, extends it to him, and says, “It’s an invite to my birthday party this weekend; if you don't have any plans, I thought it would be nice to hang out and see you again. I’ll have friends over, and of course, you can bring yours.”

A party? Wait, see me again?? “I will be there. This weekend. I’ll make an appearance.” He stops talking when she laughs. He can feel the blood boiling on his face. What the hell is going on with him? “Sorry, yes, I mean, thank you.” Jungkook can feel Namjoon’s burning gaze behind him—he can picture how his friend stifles a laugh into his fist.

“No problem. Who’s that?” She points inside the apartment.

Namjoon waves when Jungkook turns around to see him standing behind him, a smirk tugging at his lips. Jungkook widens his eyes at him, mouthing for him to stop laughing. Stepping aside for his friend’s introduction, Jungkook signals toward his friend with a swift movement of his hand. “Namjoon, this is Rei. Rei, this is Namjoon, a good friend and gifter of bonsai trees.”

“I’ve seen you, no?” she talks to Namjoon, who nods, flexing his pointer finger, indicating that she has. He’s chewing cheese puffs, and Jungkook raises an eyebrow at him, silently questioning him: ‘Where did you get those?’ His stare says.

“At the evacuation, I was there.”

“Ah, yes, you had bright green hair like a highlighter pen then.”

He laughs. “That was me, yeah! You were with that girl, the…one with the red hair in pigtails.”

“Ah. That’s right! You have a good memory.” She sounds impressed.

Jungkook tongues his cheek, shaking his head beside them unnoticed.

“You too, you too. Cheese puff?” Namjoon offers a bag of cheese puffs.

“You’re tempting me, but I will have to decline. I just had lunch.”

“Your friend, the one with the pigtails, will she be at this party?”

Namjoon is nervous, but he plays it off well. Only Jungkook can tell.

“I think she can be there,” Rei replies, her eyes shifty and full lips pursing. She seems to think it over, anxiously looking at Jungkook and chewing on her lower lip. It’s as though she’s waiting for Jungkook to glance her way. Only Namjoon is seeing this.

Jungkook is annoyed. They’re talking so easily. He shifts uncomfortably, his fingers gripping the door. He watches how Namjoon chuckles and how she timidly looks down at her hands. The glittery nail polish made his heart feel like a stone in his chest. He wants to interject. But how?

“I’m sure the guys will be free this weekend too; we might celebrate our little accomplishment here sometime soon, so Jungkook can tell you about that and invite you when the time comes, right, Jungkook?”

Jungkook only nods. That’s all he seems to be capable of when she’s around. He feels so strange around her. He feels the same way each time, like he’s coming down with something suddenly. Didn’t it just get so hot out here with the door open like this? He wonders. Is anyone else sweating?

Their voices continue around him. He nods a few times when the conversation shifts toward him, but he feels lightheaded. He wants her so badly.

He doesn’t mean to, but he clears his throat, turning the conversation around him to a simmer.

“So, Jungkook, Namjoon told me he’d come this weekend and bring your other friends. There’s a theme, by the way.” She pauses for dramatic effect. “It’s fairytale-themed!” She raises her arms above her head like a big reveal and holds her pose, awaiting their reaction.

Namjoon laughs, turning away; he says: “I’ll give it good thought! Thank you for the invite, Rei!”

“And you?” She looks at Jungkook.

“Me?” Jungkook swallows hard at a lump in his throat. His brain seems to forget how to form sentences when she’s around.

“Yes, you. Do you have any ideas, JK?” she smiles, lopsided.

Is she flirting with me? Here? Namjoon-hyung! Come back!

“I have to rewatch all of my favorite fairytale movies to have an idea,” he says, bringing a hand to his head. He feels the heat emitting from his forehead. “I’m kidding. I think something cool like Dracula.”

“Is that a fairytale?” She laughs.

“Define a fairytale. Isn’t it just make-believe?”

“You don’t think vampires are real?” She raises an eyebrow at him, but he can tell she’s intentionally giving him a hard time. Her smile is surfacing and betraying her.

“I do, actually. Ah, okay. Give me time. I’ll think of something. What about you? Who are you going as?”

She pretends to think it over even though she already has an idea. “I won’t say; you’ll have to see.”

He’s fully leaning against the doorframe, his foot slipping under him, and he almost falls over. He mutters something to himself, and she’s biting back a laugh. “You want tea or something before you go? If you’re not busy.”

“Ah, I want to say yes, but my friends are upstairs; I just stopped by real quick but thank you.”

He nods. “That’s okay, next time.”

“I’ll catch you two later,” she says, waving.

She turns to walk away, and Jungkook doesn't know what takes over him, but he shouts after her: “Thank you!”

He’s too embarrassed to see if she turns around. He closes the door immediately.

He doesn't even want to look at Namjoon. He stands facing the door for a while, his head hanging low, eyebrows scrunched up in physical anguish. He chews his lip and winces at himself, remembering.

“I said that out loud,” Jungkook says, incredulous with himself.

“You said that out loud,” Namjoon reiterates from somewhere in the room.

Sighing, Jungkook turns over, and flinches at a grape Namjoon tosses at him. His nose scrunching, he catches another grape mid-air and chews noisily. “She wants to know me properly,” he says, with a dreamy air.

“So be her prince charming,” Namjoon jokes, plopping down on his couch, busy on his phone.

“So I will be,” Jungkook says, tilting his head back to look up at his ceiling. She’s up there, walking around, talking to her friends, and he’s beneath her, dreaming of the weekend. “What day is it?”

“Wednesday.”

“Let’s go; I need an outfit.”

“Now?”

“Now, get up! Get up!”

“Let me finish my grapes; I just washed them,” Namjoon whines, still not glancing from his phone’s screen.

“Okay, but after, we’ll go.” Jungkook walks into his room, grabs his glasses, and steps back out.

“You’re serious, aren’t you?”

Jungkook nods, biting the corner of his lip distractedly. “Oh, I’m serious.” He reaches for the car keys on the table beside him. “I’ve never been more serious.”

And he is. He’s never been more serious about anything else. He wants Rei, but he wants her to want him, too. He can’t help but feel as though his luck is turning out.

taglist: @vsualitae​

A/N: thank you for being here! I hope those that looked forward to the full first chapter have enjoyed this! It's my first lengthy fic, as I've already stated, so any feedback is greatly appreciated! reblogs, comments, and anything that lets me know you've enjoyed this will make me the happiest writer :') I appreciate you for giving my work a shot <3 Let me know if you'd like a second part, what you liked, etc. I'd love to hear from you, reader >.< until next time!!

#jeon jungkook #jungkook fanfic #bangtantheatrenet #jungkook scenarios #bts fanfiction #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook x oc #jungkook fic #bts fluff #jungkook x you #jungkook au #btswritersclub #jjk fic #bts scenarios #jungkook imagine #bts imagines #jeon jungguk #jeon jungkook x oc #jjk fluff #jjk angst #pathetic jungkook

[outerbankies]

new light: head over heels — rafe cameron

new light masterlist

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

warnings: alcohol and swearing might be it?

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

“Are we really doing this?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Rafe, I’m not your enemy.”

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You come visit,” Topper counters. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

— 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Everything but that last one,” you wince.

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

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

“Noted.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did not!” you gasp, offended.

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

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

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

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

“Y/n?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

Spring Break, 6 years ago

“Can I sit here?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nervous?” you ask. “Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“If not Topper, then who?” 

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

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

“Sidney,” you say.

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

“There you are.” 

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

“You ready, Chlo?”

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

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

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

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

“Oh yeah? Who?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maybe,” you shrug. 

“Oh, c’mon,” Rafe goads. 

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

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

—

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

“What are you gonna get?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t really know how,” you shrug.

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

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

“Is it everything you ever dreamed?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Here.”

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

“Thanks,” you repeat. 

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

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

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

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

“I’m sure he did.”

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

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

“It gets patchy after that.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Have fun with Topper?” she asks.

“Chloe,” Rafe says pointedly.

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you okay?”

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

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

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

“I’m sorry. About this morning.” 

“Oh, it was no big deal,” you shrug.

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

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

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

“Yeah, but—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

Present day

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

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

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

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

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

“Neither of them fit.” 

“Even better,” he goads. 

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

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

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

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

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

“What gives, Y/l/n?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

“Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You look beautiful.” 

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

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

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

“You perv. It was standard issue.”

“You rolled it up. I know you did.”

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

“I wasn’t looking at everyone.”

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

“You make me sick. Lovesick.” 

“Rafe.”

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

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

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

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

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

—

I’m so cold

my mom should’ve put extra blankets out?

She did. Still

suck it up buttercup

Pretty sure Cap misses you too. Whining at the door

noooooo my baby :(

What about me?

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

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

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

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

“Alright. Let’s go.”

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

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

“Rafe, how nice of you to drop in.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This better be good.”

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

“I know.”

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

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

“Okay, but—”

“Five minutes,” Will says, with finality. 

“Yes, sir,” Rafe says. 

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

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

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

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

“Hi. Thought I heard the back door.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Mm.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Rafe, a word?” Will calls. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mm,” Will hums noncommittally. 

“Why would you need to corner me?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He knew it was temporary for him, but he hadn’t made any concrete plans of when or how to get out, and where he was going to go from there. And that apparently hadn’t stopped you from divulging all of this to maybe the second person he’d rather you not, after his own father. 

“But not forever,” Will finishes for him. “So what’s next?” 

“I don’t know how much she told you…” Rafe tries. Will doesn’t budge. “But I guess she had some friends over, and she—well, I make furniture, you know? Uh, woodturning was just a hobby I had in college at first.”

“Right, I knew that.”

Rafe nods, because it shouldn’t surprise him but it still kind of does—he doesn’t even know if his own dad knows that, but he can make an educated guess.

“And then I started doing it for Y/n/n. With our porch swing we left at the old house, and then our bed frame, her bookshelf, I made both of us desks, plus a couple of side tables—”

“I get it, Rafe.” 

“Sorry, yeah,” Rafe says, message received. “But anyway, a couple of her friends were over once, and some of them asked about a few pieces.”

“To buy?” Will asks.

“Yeah, to buy,” Rafe says proudly. “And they’re friends of hers, so I’d have done it free after materials. But they all insisted. So I had to work out some pricing scales and all of that pretty quickly.” 

Will nods, and the unease at being thrown into this conversation before he’d even realized he’d have to have it one day—because of course your father is going to wonder about Rafe’s career and finances—is slightly eased by the thought he might be impressing him. 

“Good money?”

“Listen,” Rafe sighs. “I don’t want to give you the wrong idea about anything, because I don’t know the first thing about freelancing or maybe owning a business? It’s not anywhere near that yet.”

“You could figure all of that out, and I could help you,” Will says, clasping his hands together. “But would it be something you want?” 

“I’m realistic, sir. It’s not something I’d consider as anything other than a side gig,” Rafe says carefully.

“Okay,” your dad says, nodding in consideration. He leans over his desk, elbows pressing into the wood. “So that leaves your actual career… where?”  

“Well—you know, uh. I’m fine working where I am,” Rafe says, before being prompted to add more by Will’s expectant stare. “But not forever. I think the goal is to move more into the contracting side one day.”

“Hm,” your father says. “Get out from behind the desk.”

“Exactly,” Rafe breathes, relieved he seems to be understanding him now. “Maybe do things on my own, or with a couple of partners. I used to work with my hands a lot in the summers, travel to sites all the time. I don't know... I miss that.”

“I see.”

Will doesn’t give him much more than that, which leaves Rafe to fill the pause with his nerve-y internal monologue. “Mr. Y/l/n, I hope it doesn’t come as a surprise to you that I intend to be in your daughter’s life forever. And if you’re worried that one day I won’t be able to take care of her—”

“I’m not worried about that,” Will says, waving the thought away. “I won’t pretend to know the financial situation your parents have left you in, nor do I want you to feel like you should tell me. But I know hers, and she’ll never have to depend on a boyfriend for anything. Ever. That was intentional.” 

Rafe nods, because he know Sarah and Wheezie will probably receive the same treatment when that day comes. He never expected it for himself, but especially not now. 

“And to be honest, Rafe, we’re only having this conversation because I believe you when you say that’s your intention. To be in her life,” Will continues. “But you aren’t exactly… on the same playing field as her, are you?” 

“Not to my knowledge,” Rafe says quietly, looking down at his hands, fidgeting with the newly empty spot on his finger. 

“Which is perfectly alright,” your father rushes to say. “Don’t get me wrong. But that’s why I like to know these things. it’s important to me that she isn’t in a situation where she could be taken advantage of.”

Rafe looks up at that. “You have to know I’d never do that to her.” 

“But I want her to be with someone who will hold their own,” Will clarifies. “It’s only fair.”

“All of this would be settled before I made anything official,” Rafe says. Truthfully, he’d never thought this far into it, in his own head or even talking it out with you. But it’s a no-brainer that Rafe would want to feel stable before you officially joined your lives together, and especially before you brought children into it. “She doesn’t need to count on me, but I want her to be able to."

“I’m just being a father, Rafe,” Will reminds him. “If you have a daughter, or any kids one day, I hope you’ll see where I’m coming from.”

“I’m sure I will.”

Will flicks a hand toward the door, which Rafe takes as his cue to leave, the adrenaline draining from his body in a seconds. “Do what you need to do.”

Rafe shakes his hand before he leaves, stopping by to look at the landing that would take him back up the stairs to your room, wondering if he should risk the wrath of your mother so he can ask you what the hell that was about.

—

The grass crunches softly underneath your boots the next morning, and you feel a twinge of sympathy for Rafe, wondering if he hadn’t been exaggerating about the temperature out in the guest house after all. You know it can be drafty out there, but Rafe ran warm. Even still, you dig your hands even further into the pockets of the vest Rafe had loaned you as you make your way to the guest house, dogs left in the main house while the two of you just went into town to grab breakfast for your family. 

Rafe texted you that he’d come to the main house to collect you, but you opted to come out for him early, just because you wanted to and you missed him.

You make it to the door step before the front door sweeps open, Rafe’s shoulders dropping when he sees you. “I thought I was coming to get you.”

“I missed you too much,” you joke. Rafe’s lips twinge interestingly, like he might have smiled any other time but somehow wouldn’t this morning. He already has his sunglasses on so his eyes can’t give you any indication of his mood, but you still feel comforted by the easy way he slips his hand into yours, kissing the side of your head.

“You ready?”

“Let’s go,” you say, trying to muster your own smile. Rafe must not notice, because he looks like he’s a million miles from here with you as he leads you to the car. 

It isn’t like you to bring things up first usually, but with Kelce’s party tonight and Thanksgiving with both of your families tomorrow, you need to be on solid ground with Rafe. And more than that, you want to be. You want to be able to lock eyes with him across any room, nudge his foot under any table or squeeze his hand in any secluded hallway, and know that you’ll make it out alive.

“Did you want to talk about the Chloe thing?” you ask, the silence too much to handle after only five minutes in the car. 

“Chloe?” Rafe murmurs, sounding lost. “What?” 

“You said you wanted to talk about it today, so,” you shrug, grasping for nonchalance and feeling like it’s far from your reach. “We can talk about it.” 

“Oh, right,” he breathes, adjusting his grip on the steering wheel. “Alright, yeah. What did she say again?” 

“I hadn’t told you what she said yet,” you remind him. “And it wasn’t really even about what she said, honestly. Maybe a little, because she seems to think about you a lot still and definitely had something to say about it—but anyway, like I said, it was more about, like—”

“Babe,” he cuts in. “If it’s important, I need you to spit it out.” 

You recoil. “It’s important, Rafe. I wouldn’t bring it up if it wasn’t.”

“Then what was it?” he asks, no remorse in his tone, only frustration. “If she didn’t say anything, did she look at you wrong or something?”

You never expected Rafe to trivialize you or your feelings, no matter how many times you’d done it to yourself in the past few days, and the world outside of the car suddenly seems colder.

“No,” you snap. “It was more about the fact that she tried to hook up with you even when she thought we were dating, and you knew and still went out with her after the fact.” 

Rafe seems caught off-guard. “What are you—do you mean when we were kids? When we were 17?” 

“I was 16,” you add pettily. “And I didn’t say it was rational. I told you yesterday, it’s stupid.” 

“Then why are we talking about it right now?” he asks, exasperated. 

You can’t help but reciprocate his frustration, even if you don’t find his warranted. “Because yesterday, you said—”

“It was years ago, Y/n/n,” he interrupts.

“I’m not an idiot, I know it was,” you say. You’ve had enough at this point, and you’re more than suspicious of his suddenly rude behavior—a world of difference from the guy who snuck up to your room just last night just to tell you he loved you. “Why are you being like this?”

A muscle in Rafe’s jaw ticks, and that’s when you know he’s really upset about something. He pulls into the parking lot outside of the cafe, turning to look at you as soon as the car is in park. “Because I’m a little concerned that we’re spending so much time on bullshit that happened in high school when last night you were apparently telling your dad I’m about to quit my job so I can freeload off of you.”

You pull back, mind reeling at the abrupt topic change. “What? I didn’t tell him that.”

“Really?” he says, and you get the sense he isn’t waiting for an answer. “Then where did he get the idea that he needed to lecture me about not taking advantage of your trust fund?”

Rafe gets out of the car, leaving you speechless and scrambling to follow him. But he comes around before you can even get that far, waiting for you to get out of the passenger’s side with agitation radiating off of him in waves. 

“Rafe, I never—”

He shuts the door. “When I told you I was thinking about doing something different—literally just thinking about it, Y/n—I didn’t think you’d run and tell Will.” 

“We—no, Rafe,” you say, still scrambling to find your footing on the defensive. “No, we were just talking at their party. He asked about you.”

It’s hard for you to remember on the spot, and because until now it was so incredibly insignificant to you. You had a spare moment with your dad in the midst of your mom’s soiree—he asked about Rafe and his new job, so you told him. 

He stuffs his hands into his pockets, his tongue in his cheek. “So you told him I might need you to bankroll my pipe dream. Got it.”

Rafe turns to enter the restaurant, and the stubborn way he holds the door open for you just angers you even more—like he knows he’s being ridiculous. The two of you join the queue, a few inches separating you. “We’re talking about this at home. We’re not gonna be that couple fighting at the bagel shop.”

“Oh, good. Maybe we can ask your dad to join,” he bites sarcastically. “Fuck it, Dylan can come too. Might as well hear what everyone thinks.” 

“Rafe,” you warn, weary of anyone within earshot. It’s early enough that there aren’t many people around, but you can’t believe his behavior.

“We’ll talk at home,” he concedes.

You stand beside him in silence while the line inches forward, wracking your thoughts for anything you could’ve said that would sic your dad on Rafe like that. You were close to your dad and you shared a lot with him, but you’d never share something that would make Rafe uncomfortable; you knew how important that relationship was to him. You’d honestly just been proud to share something so exciting with him, that Rafe had recently turned a hobby into something more. That people saw what he was capable of and wanted to pay him for it—that he was starting to see himself outside of Ward’s web. 

“Y/n,” he calls, and he’s standing at the register, grasping a single take-out cup. “Dylan wanted almond milk, right?” 

You nod affirmatively, and he turns back to the cashier to hand it over. The rest of the order you’d called in is on the counter before him, he’d been checking it over just to make sure all of your family’s orders were correct. 

“I’m sorry about that,” he apologizes, but the employee waves him off, leaving temporarily to fix it. 

Rafe reaches for his wallet, and a thought occurs to you. Before you can think of it you’re reaching into your jacket pocket. “My dad gave me his card.”

Rafe scoffs gently, a disbelieving smile pulling at his lips. “I can pay for it.”

“Rafe, it’s all of my family’s stuff.”

“I wouldn’t have agreed to go get it if I wasn’t fine paying for it,” he insists, teeth nearly gritted. “Drop it.” 

“That’s ridiculous—” 

The cashier giving the total interrupts your bickering, and the precarious glance he casts between the two of you as he puts Dylan’s coffee back into the drink carrier makes you want to crawl out of your skin. You do the next best thing, grabbing the drinks and leaving Rafe to get the food as you stomp outside.

You’ve been pouting for a full 30 seconds before Rafe even joins you, putting the food in the back seat, and you can tell he takes one look at you and decides not to press it, not saying anything at all until you’re back in your parents’ driveway. 

“I know we were gonna spend the day together,” he says quietly. “But I think we should split up after breakfast. Cool off.”

“But your sisters…”

“Will understand,” he finishes. A sad, little smile graces his lips. “And be even more excited to see you tomorrow.”

“What about Kelce’s party?” you say, grasping at anything.

“I’ll come get you,” Rafe sighs, tugging his hat off to run a hand through his hair. “Or I can meet you there, if you wanted. I just need to clear my head, baby.”

You pull out your last defense, out of desperation but also genuine worry for him. “And you’re fine to go to your dad’s alone?”

“Mhm,” he quickly answers, twirling your keys in his grip. “Did it for like 20 years, so…” 

“Yeah,” you agree, swallowing your hurt when you realize he’s really serious—that even facing Ward alone isn’t enough to deter him from leaving you right now. “That’s fine. I should get to baking. Without distractions.”

“Good,” he says, finally stepping out of the car. You use the time it takes Rafe to come around to the passenger’s side to suck in a sharp, deep breath, bottling up tears so instinctual you hardly even realize they were coming before he opens your door for you. 

“Good,” you agree, stepping out to follow him without meeting eyes.

—

“What’s with all the pies?” 

Dylan plops unceremoniously onto the kitchen counter, almost as unceremoniously as he had strolled into the kitchen. You’d made four pies in an attempt to recreate the one Rose had loved last year, but at least you were down from your grand total of nine last year.

“Don’t ask,” you groan, rinsing the last of the dishes in the sink. Dylan sits with his side profile to you. “But take as many as you want. Just don’t touch the one in the garage fridge.”

He points at the one next to him. “What’s wrong with this one?”

“Too sweet.”

“I can live with that,” he decides fishing two forks out of the drawer beside him, passing one off to you.

“What’s up?” you ask, the two of you picking at the rejected pie.

“Nothing’s up. Why does something have to be up?”

“You don’t usually go out of your way to occupy the same space as me unless Rafe’s here. Or if I fucked up,” you add.

“Well did you? Fuck up?”

You shake your head silently, shrugging with innocence when your younger brother gives you a look. “Promise.”

He narrows his eyes, but shakes his head, too. “Your luggage came. I didn’t haul it upstairs. Rafe can get it.”

“Mm,” you murmur, distracted. “Sounds good. That it?”

He sighs roughly, a loud rush of air, tossing his fork into the pie tine. “I told Mom and Dad. About Everett.” 

Your ears immediately perk up at the mention of Dylan’s new boyfriend, but you try to contain your emotions as not to spook him. “You did?”

“Yeah,” he breathes, smiling so unabashed it makes your heart melt, your own woes temporarily forgotten. 

“And?” you push gently.

“You were right,” Dylan admits, rolling his eyes. “They were all over me about when they can meet him and what he’s like and what his parents do and… yeah, all of it.”

“Dyl,” you say. “I told you.”

“I know,” he sighs, scratching at Wilbur’s ear. “I know.”

“Does this mean he’s gonna come here? And we can double date?”

“You’re joking, right? He’s never coming here,” Dylan laughs at you, like it’s a dumb idea.

“Why not?” you pout. 

“They’re gonna run him off,” he says. “With bloodlines and prenups and just bullshit.” 

You roll your eyes, even though he’s correct. “You’ve been dating for, what, three months?” 

“It’ll be four in a few days,” Dylan admits quietly, only letting you hug him for a record three seconds before he’s pushing you away. 

“Look at you. They can be a lot, though,” you admit. “I probably would’ve waited until my wedding day if Rafe wasn’t from here.”

“Where’s the Rafester anyway?” Dylan says, suddenly peeking around the kitchen, like Rafe’s going to pop out of the pantry suddenly. 

 “Thankfully not around to hear you call him that,” you quip. “He fled.”

“Smart guy,” Dylan laughs, then looks at you in consideration. “You guys okay?”

“We’ll be alright,” you sigh, shrugging. 

“Ev’s gonna have his work cut out for him. They already love Rafe so much,” your younger brother sighs, cringing lightly. 

“Yeah, they do,” you say softly. “But they’ll love Everett, too. As long as he treats you right. And doesn’t have any tattoos.”

Dylan winces and your eyes widen. “They’re not visible. Easily. They’re not… easily visible.”

“Oh my god,” you cry, closing your hands over your ears. “Not my baby brother.”

“Oh, grow up,” Dylan says. 

Your chuckle is cut off when a couple of texts comes through on your phone, two curt messages that make your heart speed up slightly. “Fuck.”

“What is it?” your brother asks. 

“Nothing—um, nothing bad,” you amend, mind racing—any thoughts of Chloe or your dad or Dylan’s boyfriend suddenly forgotten. “I just have to get ready. Will you pretty please go get my bag?”

Dylan groans, heaving himself off of the counter anyway. “Fine.”

—

It was foolish of Rafe to think Tannyhill would offer him any kind of solace. 

It was great to see his sisters, to hear about school and their friends and Sarah’s new internship and Wheezie’s college choices for the half hour alone he had with them before Ward came home, even if it had been permeated by their disappointment and worry at your absence. Which was of no bother to Ward, who seemed more cheery than normal to have Rafe alone, to get under his skin and ask about California without you around to take over, jump in, or just hold his hand under the goddamn table so he know’s he’ll be alright when all is said and done. 

So it’s no wonder he ends up at the Lodge eventually. Topper wasn’t leaving Blythe’s side and Kelce was off to pick up his girl, and Rafe felt a little too raw to invite anyone else along. 

So he’s alone at his hometown bar on the afternoon before Thanksgiving, because in the last 24 hours he’d transformed back into the scared little boy he always felt like he was on this island, running from everything and everyone. Running from you.

And it’s foolish of Rafe to think he ever could.

Because he’s on his third round from his favorite bartender—the one who’s been serving him since he was seventeen, who took look one look at Rafe as he’d pushed open the door at this dive and poured him his calling card—when the door swings open, spilling sunlight and a breath of fresh air into the otherwise dark space.

Your suitcase clearly made it to you at some point today, if the houndstooth mini skirt is anything to go by. It’s hidden by the long coat you’re wearing, but Rafe can tell the black turtleneck you’re wearing looks just as good on you as the sheer black tights and knee-high boots you’re wearing do. The literal definition of a tall drink of water stands before him, and every sorry soul hiding out in this shithole when they ought to be home with their wives can look, but they can’t touch. 

“You found me,” Rafe starts, shifting a toothpick around in his mouth. 

“Sarah said you didn’t last an hour at Tannyhill,” you respond flippantly.

“I guess I’m more surprised you came inside,” he scoffs, shaking his head. Charlie makes his way down the bar at this point, glancing at Rafe before focusing his attention on you.

“Can I get you anything?” 

You shuck your coat and Rafe bristles—he’d been right about the top—throwing a significant arm over the back of your chair as soon as you seat yourself at the bar next to him. 

You lean forward on your elbows, surveying the contents behind the bar before glancing at Rafe’s tumbler unsurely. “Whatever he’s having.”

Charlie raises his eyebrow and Rafe lets out a chuckle, shaking his head. “No. Vodka soda, Smirnoff or better. Anything else, don’t bother. And two limes.” 

Charlie nods before he walks off to grab a bucket, and you slouch in your chair, no fight put up. “Probably shouldn’t have anything, honestly. We need to jet.” 

“Why’s that?”

You roll your eyes. “Did you check your phone once today?” 

He furrows his eyebrows, because he hadn’t. It’d been on do not disturb, but your notifications wouldn’t have been affected by that. “No, why?” 

“It’s Kelce.”

“We’re still going to that?” he asks in wonder, because he really wasn’t sure anymore. It’d be smaller than it was in year’s past, your absence definitely more noticeable. But neither of you were one for putting on appearances, and it wasn’t exactly the easiest crowd to conceal things from anyway. He checks his watch, noting the early hour. “He’s not even having people over for a few hours.”

“He called it off,” you say, finally looking at him. 

“What?” Rafe asks. Charlie comes back with your drink, and you thank him with a a sweet smile, only taking a small sip before you swirl the straw around and try to cover up a nose scrunch once his back is turned. Rafe feels something loosen in his chest, observing you sitting here in a bar you have no problem telling anyone who asks that you detest. All for him.

“Therese isn’t coming.”

Rafe leans toward you, retraining his focus on the task at hand. “To his party?”

“To the Outer Banks at all,” you say, your eyes full of emotions, ever the empath. “She cancelled her flight this morning.”

“Oh fuck,” Rafe breathes, sliding a hand over his face once it clicks. “Fuck.” 

“Yeah,” you agree quietly, taking another sip, probably just to be polite. “He’s screening my calls, but I doubt he’s taking it well. Topper and Blythe are already over there.”

“We need to get out of here,” he decides, already looking for his wallet. He throws way too many bills down between both of your unfinished drinks, checking his phone for missed texts from Kelce. From Topper too, plus a few calls. None from you. “Who’s car?”

“Dylan dropped me off,” you tell him, slipping your arms into your coat when he holds it out for you. “So mine, since you took it this morning.”

Rafe winces. “Your car’s still at my dad’s. I drove my truck here.” 

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

“Didn’t really plan for this scenario,” he says sheepishly.

“So, what? You were gonna drink all day and then drive yourself back to Tannyhill? And then come back over and let me get in the car with you?” you huff, turning to exit with an eye roll. Rafe races to catch up, barely catching the door when you fling it open. You stand with your arms crossed, stilling on the sidewalk, and Rafe realizes you don’t know where he parked.

Your questioning is logical, and leads Rafe to realize this is probably the only way this day would’ve ended, with you somehow making everything alright. But that’s what he’s supposed to do.

“Baby, I’m sorry,” Rafe begins, not even sure what he’s apologizing for yet. “I wasn’t thinking.”

“God, Rafe, it’s fine—I know you wouldn’t—ugh,” you sigh, aggravated. But then you reach out and take his hand. “I know we have shit going on right now, but I want to put it aside for tonight. For Kelce’s sake.”

Rafe swallows, nodding, suddenly very sober. He strokes a thumb along yours, reveling in your touch when you don’t reject him. Rafe squeezes back. “Yeah, of course.”

—

It’s a scene all too familiar to him—Kelce’s backyard, where he's sharing a short, glass-top table with Topper, the two of them lounging in a pair of matching Adirondack chairs. A few years ago, Rafe might be rolling up a joint in his lap, trying and succeeding at peer pressuring Topper into partaking with him. But things have changed, and all that sits between them is two tumblers of dark liquor, more expensive than they’d have ever spent their own money on back in the day. But both of their dads’ liquor cabinets were always fair game in both of their eyes.

And instead of perusing the backyard—discussing anyone who caught their eyes—Topper has a lapful of longterm girlfriend, while Rafe’s is just inside. 

Kelce had been in a state once you two arrived tonight—weird, quiet, shutdown. Far from his usual, especially tonight, his self-proclaimed favorite day of the year. You’d taken one look and pulled him into his parents’ living room to talk it out. That was your forte, so Rafe had quietly slipped out to the yard to find solace. Besides, he wasn’t feeling too inclined to dole out relationship advice right now.

“He wouldn’t want us to feel bad for him,” Topper says, and Rafe nods along in agreement. “But I can’t help it. This shit sucks.”

“Yeah,” Rafe sighs, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees.

“She didn’t have to wait until the last second,” Blythe says, and Rafe looks over to see her shrug. “Well, it’s true. If she decided not to come today, she’d probably been hesitant for a while. She didn’t have to let him get his hopes up.”

Rafe can’t argue with that, and he wonders if this could be the end for Kelce and this girl. Because he might have a hard time moving past this one, should he ever get the chance to meet her. He knows you will.

“People get weird around the holidays,” Topper explains. “Families and whatever. It’s hard.” 

“How can I forget your first time meeting my parents?” she teases. Topper’s cheeks blush red, and Rafe would push for more details if he had the emotional energy to feel invested enough. 

“Babe,” Topper groans. 

“Rafe, you should’ve seen him on the plane, he was—”

“Babe,” Topper insists, but with a chuckle, and his arms tightening around her, not an ounce of an edge to his tone. Rafe averts his eyes and grabs his drink, swilling it around half-heartedly before taking another longish pull. 

“And what about you?” 

He looks over when he realizes the question had been meant for him. “Me?”

“Yeah,” Blythe smiles timidly. “How is it being back home?”

Rafe doesn’t cut his eyes to his friend, but he’s sure Topper is panicking. Blythe had always been a little bolder than him, and in a balancing way. “S’fine. I’m staying with Y/n/n’s parents, but I saw my sisters today.” 

“That’s fun,” she says, and her eyes find Topper’s. “How’s Y/n?”

Rafe smiles, sensing where this is going. “She’s just inside, if you’d like to ask her yourself.”

“Well, we just…” she trails off, looking to Topper. He looks to Rafe, his lips tucked into his teeth. 

Rafe sighs, feeling his shoulder drop a few inches. 

“I can leave,” Blythe offers. Rafe waves her off quickly as he downs the rest of his drink, knowing anything shared with Topper is as good as said right in front of her anyway. 

“Let it out, bud,” Topper implores, and Rafe sinks further into his chair. 

“Oh, fuck off. Her dad riled me up,” Rafe says, condensing his story as best he can. “About work stuff. Money stuff.”

“Yeesh,” Blythe cringes.

“You’d think I’m trying to put a ring on her finger, tomorrow, dude,” Rafe rants. 

“Aren’t you?” Topper laughs, taking a sip of his own drink. 

Rafe feels his eyes roll at that. “Not tomorrow.”

“Oh, sorry, next week,” he amends. 

“Dude,” Rafe laughs, feeling himself start to relax slightly, wondering if his problems might not be as big as he’d made them out to be in his head. After all, Topper’s jabs were based in truth, and maybe Rafe needed to act like he was asking you to marry him tomorrow. There probably would be a ring on your finger right now, if you asked Rafe when you first started going out. But that was before quitting Cameron Development, before California, before you helped Rafe realize he had a lot of work to do on himself if he ever wanted to be half the man you or any of your future kids deserved. You were his real deal, and maybe your dad had finally called him out for not acting like it. He already knew that’s how your mom felt.

“Y/n says her dad loves you,” Blythe says, confused. 

“He does,” Topper says. “So really? That’s what all of that tension in there was?” 

Rafe flushes at the implication that everyone could pick up on the jilted greetings you both gave upon arrival, becoming briefly concerned of any flack he might get from Kelce later, especially given the heart-to-heart taking place inside right now. He cranes his neck, trying to spot you through a kitchen window without any luck. “Most of it. And also, super random, she ran into Chloe, I guess?”

“Chloe Merrick? From high school?”

“Mm,” Rafe murmurs, distracted and already thinking about how he can smooth things over with you later tonight. The skirt will make things difficult if he lets it, so he needs to be on point.

“Well, bud—why didn’t you lead with that?” Topper laughs. 

“With what?” Rafe asks.

“With Chloe.”

“Wait, who’s Chloe?” Blythe says, her words coming out whiny.

“Rafe’s ex,” Topper supplies. “Which literally explains everything.”

Rafe furrows his eyebrows, feeling not drunk but definitely tipsy enough to render him unable to understand Topper’s reasoning. “How’s that?”

“Dude, she hates Chloe.”

“Y/n doesn’t hate anyone,” Rafe says easily, pointing at Blythe when she nods, as if to tell Topper ‘see?’

Topper scoffs. “Sometimes I forget how fucking dumb you are when it comes to Y/n/n.”

“Baby,” Blythe chides, but Rafe feels himself a disbelieving smile pulling at his own lips.

“You think I don’t know my girlfriend?” Rafe asks.

“Not all the time. Not back then,” Topper amends. “Junior year? The Hamptons?”

“Oh, don’t even fucking—”

“The Hamptons?” Blythe muses, scandalized. “What happened in the Hamptons?”

“You really wanna talk about the Hamptons?” Rafe says, taking delight in the way Topper’s cheeks burn red, like he wishes he could put the words back in his mouth.

“No, we don’t have to.”

“You brought it up, bud,” Rafe reminds him, pushing himself into a standing position. He starts winding his arms around, throwing in a stretch for the effect. “And I’ve always meant to beat the shit out of you for taking my girlfriend to dinner.” 

Topper sputters momentarily. “We did not—it was not—”

“Dinner!” Blythe gasps, before smiling wickedly. “You took Y/n/n to dinner? Did you kiss her? Did you date? Did you—”

Rafe slips away silently, taking the cue he perfectly set up for himself, but not before receiving what he hopes is a good-natured glare from his best friend. The mouthed ‘I hate you’ from over the top of Blythe’s head really seals the deal.

But Topper’s implications sit funnily in his stomach, and he doesn’t like the feeling at all. He heads back inside, hoping to a higher power you’re done talking with Kelce so he doesn’t have to rip you away, because he can’t stand another minute with so much unresolved. 

—

“I really thought… Y/n/n, I don’t know what I thought,” Kelce says dejectedly, his fingers interlaced, head bowed between his knees. “But I didn’t think this.”

You watch sadly as he swipes his beer off of the table, not even interested in drinking anymore, just needing something to hold. “I’m so sorry, Kelso.”

“I don’t know why this always happens to me. Like I finally find someone I like and who understands me and loves me—I thought. But she just runs.”

It’s difficult to give someone you don’t know the benefit of the doubt when they’ve put your friend—someone who you’ve already seen go through so much heartache, who’s seen you through your own—through something like this, but you try for his benefit anyway. “Maybe when you get back to Austin she’ll be able to explain, Kelce. Right? Didn’t she say she wanted to talk?”

“Does that sound like a good talk to you?” he deadpans. “‘I’m not coming to meet your family and friends, and I think we should talk when you get home?’”

“Kelce…” you say morosely, leaning into his side. “I don’t know what to say.”

“I just wish—I wish she’d told me, or that she’d come anyway. We could’ve talked, just us. Would’ve cancelled the whole fucking party and locked you all out if it was too much for her, seriously,” he says. “We could’ve worked it out.” 

You hear Rafe’s soft laughter filter in through the open screen door, and something tugs in your stomach. “Even when you really love someone, Kelce, sometimes it’s just easier to run.” 

He looks at you, unamused.

“I’m serious,” you say, lowering your voice. “Look at Rafe and I.”

Kelce scoffs. “Okay.”

“I mean it,” you answer, becoming impassioned. “It took us forever, and sometimes… sometimes we still fuck it up.”

“Yeah, but,” he says, actually sipping at his beer this time. “You always work it out.”

“Not always,” you murmur. 

He seems surprised. “What? You talking about Rafe’s little storm cloud?”

“His what?”

“He gets like this every time he comes home, Y/n/n. Come on,” Kelce says, like you should know what he means.

“I don’t follow,” you say, leaning back into the couch, crossing your arms over your chest.

“You know what? Of course you don’t. Because you’ve never been subjected to it,” Kelce laughs. “He’s like an angsty teenager again as soon as he steps foot on this island, especially before y’all got together.”

You think back to what Rafe had said in the car this morning, how he’d casted you off and walked right into Ward’s house without you. “Think it’s more than that this time around.”

“How so?”

There’s a knock at the entryway into the living room, and then your sheepish boyfriend stepping into the frame, leaning up against it while you both gaze upon him. “Hope I’m not interrupting.”

“Never,” Kelce says, moving to stand. “I was wondering when you’d come get her. Actually starting to worry.”

You roll your eyes but you stand to, looking for your bag and your keys because you could tell Rafe was ready to head out from one look at his face. 

“Kelce, man,” you hear him say. “You good? We’ll stay.” 

“I’ll be alright,” Kelce sighs. “And I’ve got my hands full with Top, Blythe. Girls should be here soon, too. Wouldn’t be the first time you two left my party early.” 

“Kelce,” you chastise.

“I’ll probably invite whoever didn’t make the original guest list,” he continues, returning from the kitchen with a fresh beer. “Full house. Gonna invite Sarah and John B and his friend who has a thing for Y/n. Griffin might even sniff it out. Chloe, too, since I heard she’s int own.”

“Alright,” Rafe cuts in. “We get it, Jesus.” 

“You’re sure?” you say. 

“Oh my god,” Kelce sighs, leaning into press a kiss to the top of your head. “Go. Both of you.” 

You walk away to wait awkwardly in the entryway as they say their own goodbyes, wondering a second too late if you should’ve strained your ears harder to hear once it takes a little longer than a normal parting for the two of them. 

Just as Rafe emerges into the entryway, Gretchen and Margot both pop through the front door, giggling and holding an impressive number of pink bottles in between them. They both startle when they see you, their faces transforming from glee to the opposite once they look at you for a little longer.

“Why are you wearing your coat? Take off your coat,” Gretchen demands, stomping her foot. 

“We’re heading out,” you say sadly. “Kelce is in the living room.”

“Nooo,” they chorus, leaning into fuss over you. 

Margot notices Rafe standing behind you then, narrowing her eyes. “Cameron.”

“Not tonight, Margot. And take it easy on Kelce, yeah?” he warns.

She looks called out, and you can practically hear the argument forming in her head. “Buddy—”

“For the love of god please take her,” you whisper to Gretchen. 

“We better see you guys tomorrow night. After dessert, at mine?” she pleads, smiling when you nod. “Good. Oh—let me get a picture.”

“Gretch—”

“Rafe, get over here,” she demands, interrupting whatever quiet squabble Margot has taken up with Rafe, who looks more than relieved to take your side. 

Gretchen picks up the film camera you hadn’t noticed hanging around her neck, backing up a few steps and pointing it at you both. “Pretend like you like each other, at least.”

Rafe’s arm settles around your shoulders, pulling you back into his frame, and you try your best to put a believable smile on, recalling Kelce’s words.

The flash goes off and Rafe presses a kiss into the back of your head before moving away from you, his hand falling to your back. 

“That’ll work,” Gretchen says, turning to follow Margot where she stomped off, no doubt in a beeline to a grieving Kelce. “Love you guys.”

“Let’s go home?” Rafe finally asks, his voice quiet even though nobody is around to overhear him.

“Home,” you confirm, grabbing onto his hand and leading him out the door. 

—

Rafe’s done a few dumb things in the last day or so, but this might be the dumbest.

The trellis below your window hadn’t changed at all, but Rafe’s ability to navigate it might. He hasn’t gone up this way in years, and it’s not as romantic as he remembers it being. Maybe it’s because now he’s groveling instead of trying to woo you, or maybe it’s because you’re not aware of his sojourn, not sticking your head out the window and looking down at him sweetly, hair flitting around you and ready to tug him over at the last step. Not tonight though, not after Rafe had sent you off to your room with nothing but a kiss to your forehead and loose promise to talk tomorrow before Thanksgiving dinner at Tannyhill.

And maybe Rafe’s just not as young as he used to be. Which is why he’s surprised to find the window open at all, allowing him to tug himself over and in, miscalculating the footing and landing on his ass, the box in his pocket stuffed under his hip awkwardly as he makes contact with the floor. “Ow.”

“Oh, thank god.”

“Babe—ow,” Rafe winces, realizing he’s probably gonna bruise as he gets to his feet. “I—you said—thought we were gonna talk in the morning.”

“Yeah,” you say weakly, from where you stand in the doorway of your bathroom, your hands twisting together. “I did.”

“But you left your window open for me?”

“Yeah,” you shrug, wrapping your arms around your midsection.

“Because you—baby, baby, don’t cry, no,” he says in surprise, heart breaking as he crosses the room to you and your wobbling bottom lip and big, sad eyes. “Hey, come here, pretty.”

“Rafe,” you cry, muffled in his shirt when he takes you into his arms. “I’m so tired of this shit. I don’t—I don’t wanna be mad at you anymore.”

“I don’t want you to be mad at me either,” he says, leading you to the chair that sits at your vanity table, helping you sit while he crouches down in front of you. “I don’t like it.”

“You usually don’t know,” you laugh, hiccuping slightly. 

“Can’t argue with that,” Rafe says, using the cuff of his long sleeve to pat under your eyes softly, stroking your thigh with his other hand while you calm down. “Baby girl, you’re breakin’ my heart.”

“It’s so stupid—with Chloe, and just—I’ll talk to my dad, I promise I will,” you ramble. “Because he can’t just—he can’t. Why the fuck did we even come home?”

“Hold on, hold on. Breathe for a sec,” Rafe reminds you, pleased when you follow his lead, taking in a long, shaky breath. “Good. There you go, sweetheart.”

“I’m sorry,” you say meekly, still fielding stray tears but on the whole looking better.

“You’re good, you’re good. Do you want water?”

When you shake your head, Rafe feels good to stand, leaning up against your table, still within arms length as he strokes your back through your sleep shirt of his. 

“What’s going on with Chloe?” he finally asks after a beat of silence. 

You huff, but start talking when Rafe bumps your chin with his knuckle in encouragement. “I never liked her.”

“I see that now.”

“I’m glad I did such a good job of hiding it when I was younger,” you laugh dejectedly. “Thought I was so obvious.”

“Apparently I’m the only one who didn’t catch on. Even with Topper dangling you in front of me like a carrot at the Hamptons house,” Rafe says, rolling his eyes.

“He did not,” you defend.

“Oh, he did so, baby girl,” he counters, scoffing. “Are you kidding?”

“Rafe. You had a girlfriend on that trip,” you point out. “And Topper didn’t even know…” 

“He knew.” 

You shake your head. “No, no that can’t be right. Topper? Topper Thornton? He’s like the least likely to meddle out of all of them.”

Rafe gives you a look. “That isn’t saying much when it comes to our friends.” 

You nod in consideration, your eyebrows still furrowed as you prop your head up on one of your hands.

“But, baby…” Rafe says, stroking a hand over the top of your head, his fingers digging into the hair at the nape of your neck. “You can’t still be worried about it. Not after all this time?”

“It isn’t like that anymore, Rafe. I mean, you’re a catch and I’m never gonna take that for granted,” you pause to crack a small smile when Rafe won’t let that one go so easy, tugging at the end of your ponytail, “but I’d like to think you’d never hurt me or leave me.”

“Never ever.”

“She was making comments about our lives and whatever, like she still knows you. Like she knows you better than I do,” you explain, picking at your nails. “And it pissed me off.”

“Okay,” Rafe nods, unsure if he wants to ask what she said specifically, and ultimately deciding against it. “But that wasn’t all?” 

“What do you mean?”

Rafes eyes scan your face. “These aren’t angry tears. And I know you can handle stupid island gossip.”

You groan, hiding your face in your hands again. “It’s so dumb.”

“It’s not,” Rafe insists, batting them away. “Not dumber than anything I’ve been mad about today.”

“Rafe.”

“What were you talking about in the car this morning? Seriously, baby. Let me in,” he says.

“Are you making me?”

“Yep.”

You sigh one last time, sitting back in your chair with your arms crossed. “We weren’t dating. But you were still like one of my best friends, right?”

 “Correct.”

“So it just… I don’t know. It sucked that you dated her, because she was perfectly fine going behind my back before she knew we were nothing.”

“We weren’t nothing, baby.”

Frustrated, you push at his knee. “Don’t be cute, you know what I mean.”

“I’m serious. I think a lot of people thought we were something, Y/n/n. In hindsight, I was pretty obvious at least,” Rafe says sheepishly. 

“I know, I know,” you groan. “Which is so embarrassing by the way. That that many people knew.”

“It is, but it worked out. Just a little bit,” Rafe reminds you. You bump your knee into his leg in acknowledgement. “So what gives?”

“I don’t judge you for it anymore. I got it over it so long ago,” you recall. “In probably the worst possible way.”

Rafe hums in disapproval. “So we’re even?”

“There’s no getting even, Rafe. I don’t hold anything against you from when we were like, infants.” 

“Clearly you do.”

“I don’t. I was young and emotional and just really, really confused about you,” you promise. “I don’t hold it against you, but I haven’t seen her in forever and she just got under my skin about it.” 

The image of a younger you, in anyway hurt by Rafe when he was arrogant and young and stupid and above all else still totally in love with you somewhere deep in his heart before he even knew what love was is always too much for him to bare. Even when he keeps a home with you, shares a dog with you, shares a life and all of his future plans and hopes and aspirations—and shares his heart with you. Even after all of that, it hurts. “I was such a stupid kid.”

“You weren’t,” you tell him, your hand taking a place on his knee again, maroon-painted nails digging into the skin under his shorts. “This is why I didn’t want to talk about it, because it’s just stupid teenage insecurities that I still let get the best of me sometimes. She started talking about how I’m your cookie cutter Figure 8 dream, and your dad, and then when you flipped about my dad—”

Rafe finally digs deep into his pocket, at a loss for his own words but one-thousand-percent sure he can’t sit here and listen to you doubt him or yourself anymore, setting the velvet box down on your vanity with authority.

Your words die in your throat, and you take one glance at the box before closing your eyes. “I know you’re not doing this while we’re talking about Chloe Merrick.” 

“I’m not doing that,” he says, hoping you don’t actually ever think he’d propose marriage while standing taller than you, while standing at all. “Jesus, baby.”

“Then what—” you reach your hand out, then retract it, doe eyes staring up at him timidly. “Can I?”

“Open it.”

You gently pry it open, setting it back on the desk once you can see inside, recognition crossing your features. “You found your ring?”

“I found your ring,” he says as he plucks the gold band out of the box, grabbing your hand. “Actually never lost it.” 

“What are you… wait, why does it fit me?” you wonder, once Rafe can stronghold your fidgeting enough to get it down your ring finger. On the right hand, he’s not psychotic. “Rafe, why does it fit me?” 

“You know Wren’s friend Stephen?” 

“Yeah,” you answer, flexing your hand, marveling at the ring’s new size. 

“Well, he’s a blacksmith, right? And your birthday was coming up…” he shrugs, bashful now, after all of his brevity. “We melted it down. I thought I knew your size, but I swiped that little silver twisty one you always wear when you were sleeping—just to be sure.”  

“Rafe.”

“And then it really wasn’t that hard—but it was so cool, baby, he like let me hold it and everything while he worked the metal, and I have pictures, if you want—”

“You melted your gold band.”

“Yes.”

“So I could wear it.” 

“Correct.” 

“The one you’ve been wearing since we were teenagers.”

“The very one.”

You twist the ring around on your finger, sliding it right up to your knuckle and seeing how it doesn’t give easily, how it was made to fit your finger. You work it off anyway, sliding it to the ring finger on your other hand. Your left hand. “Rafe.”

“You like it?”

“You know you can’t take this back, right? Like you can’t just—”

“I know, sweet girl, kinda the point—there’s even a seam if you really look. But it’s yours now.” 

Rafe can forgive himself for the way your eyes well up, because he surmises that this time they’re happy tears—even though he’ll always hate making you cry. “I swear I was gonna save it for your birthday. Or Valentine’s.”

You sniffle. “I love it. I’m glad you didn’t save it. You’ve just been carrying it around?”

He shrugs. “Wanted it close. I felt so bad when you were as upset as you were it was missing.”

“I should’ve known you didn’t lose it in the ocean,” you grumble.

“And now you won’t either,” he quips. “I love you. Don’t worry about the bullshit. Seriously, baby.”

You stand up then, and you two fit perfectly when your arms wrap around his waist, and his fall around your shoulders. “What about my dad?”

Rafe sighs, stroking a hand up and down your back, fingers catching on your tank top. “Let’s head to bed.”

You narrow your eyes, pulling out of his hold. 

“Okay,” you agree, reaching for a tub of lotion on your bedside table, before leaning in for a quick kiss. “I’ll see you in the morning.” 

“I scaled the wall,” Rafe explains, watching you rub lotion into your arms lackadaisically, barely paying him mind anymore. “And it's one a.m.” 

“Hm, better be careful on your way back down,” you say, moving onto your legs, tantalizing him. “You always said that one rung at the bottom is getting faulty.”

Worse and worse every time he uses it, and he won’t make it any worse tonight. “You don’t want me to stay?”

“This bed is for people who express their feelings,” you say, burrowing yourself under the covers. Rafe sighs, finally kicking off his shoes, moving them to the corner so you won’t claim a tripping hazard. 

“Shove over,” he grunts, slipping in behind you once he unplugs your lights and makes sure your window is shut.

When you remain stubborn, Rafe uses an arm around your waist to move you over himself, grinning when you squeal in delight. “Rafe.”

“I told you to shove over. You’re gonna wake up your brother,” he chastises.

“He’s probably up late. Talking to Ev,” you say, sounding swoony. “I think he’s two hours behind, maybe three? Young love.” 

Rafe presses a kiss into the back of your head, using his free hand to trace the shell of your ear, tucking a few wayward strands behind it. “We used to be like that.”

“You were so cute, pretending you weren’t falling asleep on FaceTime,” you say wistfully. “Miss that.”

“I don’t,” Rafe says. 

“No? The window entrance was a little nostalgic tonight.”

“You really didn’t think I was coming?” 

Your shrug moves your body against his, and Rafe laces his free hand through yours. “I mean, I put the dogs with Dylan so they wouldn’t bark, but I dunno. This is one of those things that just makes you shut down.” 

He hides his head between your shoulder blades. “I don’t mean to.”

“I know,” you say, struggling to turn around in his grip, getting a hand under his chin once you do. “But I hate when you push me away.” 

“I don’t mean to,” he repeats.

“I know.” 

“I think your dad was right.”

The understanding immediately leaves your face, and you pause your petting. “What?” 

He kisses your forehead slowly, buying himself time before looking back down at you. “He was. Kinda. I need to get my shit together.”

“Rafe, no…” you shake your head. “No. You don’t have to listen to him.”

To Rafe, it’s as simple as the fact that he does have to. But you wouldn’t stand to hear any of that. “It’s okay.” 

“No, it’s not. You had your entire life mapped out until a few months ago,” you say. “You don’t need to have everything figured out right now.”

“Sooner the better,” he mumbles, mind reeling as he thinks back to Topper’s sentiments from earlier, about how he pictured a different ring on your finger at this point. It makes him feel better that you’re currently tracing it with your thumb anyway, knowing you normally take your jewelry off before bed but you didn’t tonight. “He’s never gonna let me get serious with you until I do.”

“Did you discuss my dowry with him, too?”

“Y/n/n,” he sighs.

“I’m gonna wear this to dinner tomorrow,” you decide, turning to face away from him again. “Give him a fucking heart attack.”

“Just let me know so I can go to my dad’s first.”

It’s quiet between you two after that, until you clear your throat. “How was that today?”

“You found me at the Lodge.”

He can practically hear you pouting as you pull his arm tighter around you. “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault,” Rafe reminds you. “He just… you know how he is. I shouldn’t have gone at all, ‘cause I know he’s probably thinking a million different things about us right now.”

“Who cares what he thinks? Or what my dad thinks?”

Rafe does, and he knows you do, too. Maybe not as much, so he just lets the question hang there, suspended in the air.

“I don’t want you to feel like you don’t have a home here babes,” you say quietly. “You do. My dad just… I think he really cares about you. He’s probably had the same conversation with Dylan.”

Rafe squirms. “I don’t know.”

“Do you want me to talk to him?” 

“For the love of god, no,” Rafe says, smiling a little when your laugh shakes your whole body against his. Rafe left a company for you, but he doesn’t ever want you to be in a situation like his. Because some fathers didn’t love their kids, but yours loved you. “I will.”

“Good enough for me,” you murmur, angling your chin just so to ask for a kiss. Rafe meets you halfway, but lets his head hit the pillow beneath him when you posture your own body over him, your leg slotting between his. 

“Mm, baby,” Rafe murmurs in surprise, accepting a trail of neck kisses while he guides your leg over his lap completely, your knees bracketing his hips. “Baby.”

“Hm,” you hum, pushing yourself up on your hands, gazing upon him in a way that makes his heart seize. 

“We’re in your parents’ house,” Rafe practically whispers.

You shrug, making to move off. But that’s not what Rafe wanted, not at all, so his hands flex on your hips to keep you firmly in place. “You gonna let me off?”

“Well I didn’t say that.”

—

“I could get my CPA.”

You cut your eyes to Rafe where he’s walking beside you, both of your breath visible in the early morning chill. “Do you want your CPA?”

“Good money.”

“Insane hours,” you point out. 

“Used to that,” he grunts.

“True. Well, if you want to…”

He shrugs, gripping Captain’s leash a bit harder when he almost gets tangled with Wilbur for the umpteenth time that morning. “Or I could get my MBA, too. I originally wanted to go right into it after undergrad.”

“Really?” you ask, coming to a stop when Wilbur wants to wander off and sniff for a while, Captain following behind him. “Since when?”

“Freshman year. Decided against it senior year.”

“Really?” you reaffirm, continuing when he nods. “Why? Not because of us.” 

It isn’t a question, because Rafe knows you’d never let him do something so rash.

“I didn’t wanna be away from you anymore,” Rafe says, to your surprise. “It would’ve factored into where I went, for sure. Just like it would now.”

“Rafe,” you say, confused. “Why have you never… you could’ve gone anywhere you wanted. You should, still. But why… oh.”

“You’re right though,” Rafe says, ignoring the Ward of it all completely. It’s a dead horse to him, the way Ward controlled his life for so long. Forcing him back home after graduation is child’s play. “I should still. I could.”

“Do you wanna?” you ask, shifting Wilbur’s leash behind your back when he walks further off, and eventually following after him to the bush he’s intent on investigating, still glancing back at Rafe when he speaks.

“Not right now,” he says. “I knew what I wanted to do back then. I knew why I wanted to be in school.” 

“Right, no, yeah,” you assure him. “But if we ever needed to move… way ahead of myself?” 

“Miles. Lightyears,” Rafe smiles, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of your head, eyes still bleary from a night of not enough sleep for either of you, followed by a prompt exit the minute you heard movement in the house. “But I appreciate the sentiment.”

“College Rafe was such a vibe,” you sigh wistfully, reminiscing. “Bring him back.”

“Chill,” he laughs. “I could work finance anywhere. Get a job in tech on some 55th floor in the city. 401k match, stock options.”

You furrow your eyebrows at the second time he brings up money. “Do you want a job in tech?”

Another shrug. “Your dad does pretty well.” 

“Rafe…”

“I don’t have the same safety net I used to, baby. I walked away from all of this,” he says softly, almost under his breath, the old build homes you’re surrounded by suddenly feeling bigger and taller, the lawns more manicured and the cars shinier, the eyes in the windows more prying. “And I’m so happy I did. But I wanna give you everything you deserve. I wanna give it to our kids.” 

“Rafe,” you tut, stuffing Wilbur’s leash into his hand so you can wrap him in your arms, your cheek smushed into his jacket. “You’re going to. I’m gonna be here while you figure it out.” 

“I hate not having everything figured out,” he whispers. “I felt like I always did.”

“Even before you had me?” you venture, tilting your head back to look up at him. 

He smirks, looking down at you, ignoring the tug on his arm coming from the leashes. “Maybe not everything.” 

“S’what I thought,” you murmur, calves stretching with the strain to reach up and kiss him. He meets you halfway. 

“A year ago, I was telling you to quit your job,” Rafe says. “Remember that? That’s how sure everything was.”

You fake wretch, and Rafe hooks an arm around your neck, pulling you into him so he can press kisses wherever possible. 

“You’ve come so far,” you tease, batting him away half-heartedly.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket between you and Rafe groans, knowing you have to pull away in case it’s family. You do so reluctantly, reaching to tug it out of your pocket.

“How much time do we have?” Rafe sighs, assuming it’s Dylan or your parents wondering when you’ll be back. But it isn’t.

“No, it’s—Gretchen sent me our picture. From last night,” you say, eyes trailing over your faces. Rafe’s arm sits around your shoulders, where he’d half-heartedly pulled you into his body at her command. His head rests against yours, but the smiles on both of your faces don’t reach your eyes.

Rafe cranes his neck to look at it, humming a short noise before looking away. “We look…”

“A little bit miserable,” you finish, laughing lightly.

“Very,” he agrees.

You groan, your head falling to his chest as you feel the dog leashes start to tangle around you, effectively cementing you to your boyfriend. “M’so glad we moved.” 

“I kind of suck here,” Rafe admits, laughing when look up at him incredulously. “I do!”

“You better figure out how to not suck here, Rafe Leopold.”

“It’s a miracle we ever found the time to fall in love on this island,” he marvels. “We’re doing Friendsgiving in California next year, by the way."

“I know you want our kids to have OBX summers one day,” you accuse.

“They will. And we’ll pick ‘em back up from the airport in September,” he jokes. 

You push at his chest and almost send yourself falling back into the grass as you do so, forgetting your current predicament. He clutches you to him, a hand wrapped around your wrist.

“Careful, baby, Jesus,” Rafe laughs, holding your hand for balance while you attempt to untangle you both from the leashes. “You got it?”

“Think so,” you huff, sighing in relief when you’re finally freestanding, one of two separate leashes clutched in your free hand.

“Still wearing it?” Rafe says.

“Hm?” 

He tugs on your ring finger, fingers catching on the gold band you have no plan to take off soon. 

“I told you, no take-backs,” you joke, falling into step with him again while he clutches your left hand. “By the way, you know you only get one more ring, right?” 

His neck flushes pink, from the parts left uncovered by his jacket. “I think I know which one you’re talking about.”

“You do,” you tell him, bumping into him sideways. “And if the next time you pull out a velvet box, it’s not that one—”

“Oh, come on,” he says. “You didn’t actually think—in your childhood bedroom with Dylan next door—I was wearing basketball shorts.” 

You giggle. “No, no. I didn’t for more than a second.”

“Really?”

Now you get to feel embarrassed, ducking away from his mischievous eyes when you feel heat creep up your own neck. “No. I don’t know, Rafe. It’s a little velvet box. We’ve been dating for years.” 

“Sweetheart,” he coos, throwing an arm around your shoulders, pressing a kiss into the side of your head. 

“Shut up,” you mumble.

“I wasn’t even kneeling.”

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x reader #outer banks #outer banks imagine #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks x reader #obx

[ravixen]

omg yeah i meant drabble as in reaction! my sleep deprived brain couldn’t make the distinction lmao but yes if it’s not a problem i would like to request it as a reaction style thing with cheol, gyu, and kwan <3

svt + "why didn't you tell me?"

➔ reaction || requested

omg i’m sorry it’s 2am and i’ve been running on four hours of sleep since thursday can i please add soonhoon to the list 😭 thank you actually

➔ warnings: arguing, food mention || 1357 words ➔ notes: angst with unresolved conflict cuz i don't have space LOL, hurt/comfort? ; here's the original ask for anyone who's curious about the prompt. this one really stumped me! it feels like there's so much...context to fit into 300 words, but i tried my best. maybe one day i'll make it into a full-fledged fic because that tiktok and its continuation reminded me of my "svt + fighting with their s/o" (2021) and "svt + helping you out of mental health issues" (2021) series. pls reblog if you liked!

SEUNGCHEOL: he's been prickly all week. at first, you brushed it off, confused at his attitude, but at this point, you're sick of his stupid scoffs whenever you hang out with his friends. doesn't seem like he'll address it any time soon, so after another tense dinner, you bite the bullet. "you've been irritated all week — are you going to tell me what that's about or am i supposed to guess?" you cross your arms and lean back against the kitchen counter. you half-expect him to walk out of the kitchen, but he levels a glare at the table, simmering. "...why didn't you tell me?" you throw your hands into the air. "tell you what, seungcheol?" "that you used to date seungkwan!" that makes you pause. "what? i never dated seungkwan—" and then it clicks. last week, your phone brought up a screenshot from years ago that you never deleted: a dating app exchange with a guy you met exactly twice, both of you deciding after the dates that it wouldn't work. you didn't remember him, not even when you were re-introduced to seungkwan as seungcheol's partner; that's how unimportant it was. when you and seungkwan realized your past connection, you thought it was funny, but evidently, seungcheol didn't. "i never dated him," you say again, much calmer now that you know what he's upset about. "it was two dates a long time ago. i didn't tell you because i didn't know it was him. do you want me to recount every failed match i had on dating apps?" you raise your eyebrows until he relents with a gruff no. "besides, i'm literally living with you now. that's got to count for something, right?"

SOONYOUNG: when he's in a bad mood, everyone who knows him knows. he's good at schooling his expression into a neutral smile, but something about him is colder, more reserved. he's lost in his festering thoughts, and it takes a while to draw him back out. so when you flip over your phone to show him a funny video and his laugh is stalled for the fifth time, you decide to sit up and talk about it. he stays draped over the couch as you cross your arms, but finally he huffs, "why didn't you tell me?" his frown borders on angry, but when he toys with the hem of your sweater, you know that it's not directed at you, which is relieving — his anger is a force to be reckoned with. you wait for him to continue because he looks like he's turning words over in his mind. he begins slowly, "i trust my members with my life. all of them, but seungcheol especially. he's a good leader. takes care of us." you only hum, hand coming up to tug the short hairs on the nape of his neck. he leans into the touch. "and i'm glad you get along with everyone. i'm glad seungcheol takes care of you." there's something heartbreaking about the look in his eyes when he meets your gaze. "he told me that you've been confiding in him about your nightmares?" you suck in a breath. "it's not because i don't trust—" "i know, i know. he told me it's because you didn't want me to worry, but baby, i'm supposed to take care of you."

JIHOON: "what video are you watching?" you ask as you shuffle into his studio. take-out containers are laid out on the table, making you nearly drool in anticipation, and you're assuming the ones pushed to the corner are yours. you settle into a seat and break a pair of chopsticks. he still hasn't looked over. "hello? jihoon?" he grunts, eyebrows furrowed as he continues staring intently at the screen. you can hear a familiar song bleeding from his headphones. his standoffish behavior rubs you the wrong way, but whatever — you had a long day and you're hungry. you're about two bites into your fried rice when he finally pauses the video and turns to you. "why didn't you tell me?" you just keep eating. if he's going to accuse you of something and be mad about it, he better give you more context. "this—" he waves at his screen— "is your audition tape. you didn't tell me you were an idol trainee?" you choke on your food, and when he pushes a can of coke zero into your hand, you chug it gratefully. "where the hell did you get that?" and that makes his frown deepen. "i got it from soonyoung. you told soonyoung before you told me?" he tries to say it nonchalantly, but there's hurt that bleeds into his voice. you didn't mean to tell soonyoung first — it just happened that way because he overheard you talking about it to another friend and then he pestered you to send him a video. "what's worse is that i kept complaining to you about idol life...does that bring up bad memories? hurt feelings? i'm sorry."

MINGYU: sometimes you joke and say that he has a thing for praise, but it's true that he loves feeling needed and helpful, particularly when it comes to you. as much as you'd love his assistance with this one project, however, it's supposed to be a secret to everyone except jihoon who's helping as a co-composer. you were doing so well with hiding this until he surprises jihoon in the studio and finds you in front of the microphone. "what the heck? ...are you making a song?" the without me? goes unsaid, but it's written all over his stricken face. "why didn't you tell me?" jihoon shrugs and doesn't help when he says, "well, that'd defeat the whole secret aspect." "oh, so you can help, but i can't?" mingyu snaps, and it seems like jihoon finally realizes the extent of mingyu's mood because he doesn't say anything when you usher your boyfriend out the door. "why didn't you tell me?" he asks again, a hint of a whine pushing through. "i can write lyrics. or listen and give feedback. i've written songs before, too, y'know—" you put on a hand on his chest, and he swallows back his words, though you know he's dying to make his case. "why didn't you tell me?" "they told me i couldn't tell anyone," you say, apologetically. "they explicitly said not to tell you." he pouts. "i tell you all of my projects..." he mumbles, but he gets it — professional contracts come first.

SEUNGKWAN: he always makes sure that you're taking care of yourself, which includes getting all your vitamins and having enough energy to get through the day. one of the ways he does this is packing you lunch once in a while, and you've learned to accept it without protest, even if you feel like he's overextending himself. he makes good food! it's just...it's rare, but there's this one dish that he makes with soondae and you're not really a fan. you've never mentioned it because the topic never came up, and you were going to say something about it when it first appeared in your lunchbox, but he was so proud of it, saying that it's a recipe he developed himself and he was so excited for you to try it. how could you dash his hopes like that? but you know who likes soondae? mingyu. you develop a secret exchange that works for a while: your soondae for one of mingyu's proteins, and you're in the middle of this switch when seungkwan walks in and catches you red handed. mingyu looks between the two of you, takes his chopsticks in his mouth, and hurries out of the room. the last incriminating piece of soondae sits in your lunch container. "...why didn't you tell me?" you wince. he's not mad, just disappointed, and you're not sure which breaks your heart more. "you could've just said you don't like my cooking. i can take it." oh, and there's the pout. you're quick to hop to his side. "no, no, i like your cooking! it's that one dish, i swear! i didn't — i promise i eat everything else."

#caratwritersclub #seventeen scenarios #seventeen angst #svt angst #seventeen fluff #svt fluff #seungcheol scenarios #s.coups scenarios #soonyoung scenarios #hoshi scenarios #jihoon scenarios #woozi scenarios #mingyu scenarios #seungkwan scenarios #g: svt #m: seungcheol #m: soonyoung #m: jihoon #m: mingyu #m: seungkwan #t: reaction #s: request #cheolussy #ravixen

[meanbossart]

DU drow asks time

Lore questions/sweet messages/stuff that made me laugh that's about DU drow specifically that I decided to compile in a single post!

First of all, "outraged to be used as a medium for old man gay divorce" is a hysterical sentence LOL

As for his thoughts on the Ansur debacle? Negative ones. He hates the emperor, he doesn't care about his third-time-twist real identity, he doesn't particularly care about Wyll either (well - he kind of finds him entertaining, he's kind of really frustrated by him, it's complicated) but he saved his dad on a whim to spite Mizora anyway. BUT HEY, all that trouble would have been worthwhile if he's about to get an ancient dragon fighting alongside him - this old duke sounds a little too confident in this fairy tale, but stranger things have happened, right?

Then the situation unfolds as it does, and if he wasn't eager enough to use that orphic hammer before, he certainly is now. There is very little that the Emperor does past Act 3 that DU drow doesn't find a way to twist into something that confirms his resolve against him. If he could have taken Ansur's side in that fight, he would have - not that he shed any tears over killing him either.

Sick sword though, that helped soothe his nerves a bit and I'm sure spared everyone a little bit of a tantrum at camp later.

HAHAHAHA I can't confirm nor deny because I see so few large body-type elves as it is (which is fair, elves aren't usually... That massive). I did set age to 50% because it does look a little weird when it's all smooth. Maybe that's the trick?

Though I guess if you find it unsettling, then... No wonder it suits him! however this just looks like an impressively handsome fella to me, to be honest. I insist on fucking him up further whenever I draw him for that reason.

Thank you so much for following along and for giving the fic a try!!! And no worries, english isn't my native tongue either so I've been there 😎👍

I do actually have a couple of very short comics planned that take place pre-tadpole, but my backlog of WIPs is... Massive. Not to mention the commission work I do (currently not taking any more). I have one that's about his first interaction with Orin and another about a business dinner with Gortash gone-wrong, but I have no clue when I'll be able to work on them. Hopefully soon though!

You know, I've always hoped that after I died I'd be remembered as the guy who inspired others to make their nipples card-swipe-able.

Joke's aside, thank you LOL I love that my guys' nips have taken up non-insignificant room in your mind, it's always comforting to know that you aren't the only one.

Piercings and the such aren't really his style though. While he finds his scar-work weirdly comforting, he isn't so interested in aesthetic results as much as he just enjoys having pain inflicted upon him in a controlled environment, by people that he loves - He doesn't recall this post-tadpole, but the scars were a result of a kind of... Recurring ritual between himself and Orin that served to replace normal intimacy, pretty much.

Since you touched on it though, I do like to believe that Astarion finds his cut-up body fun, both on the eyes and on the hands LOL.

I'm starting to think you guys are all in on this. It's like the fifth time someone catches me in the act - god damn it, is it that obvious that I wanna slide down Peter Steele's cold corpse like he's a a ride at the Magical Ice kingdom... Which is to say, yes, both the guy and his music are not-so-lowkey a big inspiration behind a lot of DU drow's characterization!

That's all for now folks, thank you so much for the asks!!! This isn't all of them but I try not to spam people's feeds when I can help it/space them out. I see all of your messages and I guarantee you that if I have an interesting answer for them, you will see a reply eventually!

#ps: i only made that peter steele joke because i know he would be ok with it LOL #ask #DU drow #bg3 spoilers

[wangxianficfinder]

Fic Finder

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1. Hi, me again!! Returning to your amazing site!! I hope you can help me find this fic!! I'm looking for a fic where WWX doesn't die in his first life, but he ends up in a paperman and in Yummeng they have to find a way to returning him to his body!! Please help!! Be well :) @monicaop21

NOT FOUND! 🧡 a paper friend by soft_wanning (G, 4k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Fluff, Paperman!WWX, Identity Porn, Meet-Cute, Different First Meeting) I'm not sure this is right but I'd thought I'd mention it just in case - Mod C

I remember this one but can't find it! Iirc, WWX was in a coma in Lotus Pier, but the rest of the cultivation world was told he was dead. Can't remember how his spirit ended up in a paperman, but all the Lotus Pier people knew, and eventually LWJ figured it out when he was visiting for a cultivation conference or something. I think they were trying to figure out how to get WWX back into his body when MXY did his ritual and WWXs spirit was pulled out of the paperman and everyone freaked out that he'd died for real this time

FOUND!🔒 something like by silversshadow (T, 69k, WangXian, XuanLi, SongXiao, Canon Divergence, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Temporary Character Death)

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2. Hi!! Thank you for all your hardwork here.

I was looking for this fic where Wei Wuxian doesn't get adopted by the Jiangs.( I'm not sure if it was because he retained his memories of his earlier life.) Anyway... he gets the Dafan Wens at Yiling and closes Yiling with a barrier that no one can break through.

At some point Lan Wangji comes by and meets Wei Wuxian and there's a little bit of an identity crisis happening because Wuxian doesn't want to tell Wangji who he is but the smart Lan figures it out (I think lol) Also the war happens (again not so sure) but anyway all the sects comes to ask for refuge at Yiling.

The part I remember really well is where The Jiangs come by boat and Yu furen is her usual self with her condescending attitude.

I also remember a section where, towards the beginning, Wuxian actually cures the Burial mounds and like the entire village just loves him and takes care of him because he's such an angel.

Please find this for me cuz I went through 115 pages in my history and still couldn't find it. @poetic-writes

FOUND? The Devil That You Forgot by pottedplnt (Not Rated, 20k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, BAMF WWX, YLLZ WWX, Rogue Cultivator WWX, WWX Isn't Adopted by the Jiāngs, Angst, Sentient Burial Mounds, Demonic Cultivation, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Angst with a Happy Ending, Sunshot Campaign, Chronic Pain, JFM and YZY Bashing, Bad Parent YZY, Jiāng Family Bashing)

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3. hiii for the next FF I’m looking for a modern wangxian fic where wy is a toymaker and LZ is a writer and single father to lsz. It’s largely comfort where wy reintroduces LZ to the magic of imagination I think and idk if it’s only where i stopped but the most recent scene was lz’s mother being stuck in the hospital. I also rmb that wy couldn’t leave the toy shop for long. @crazy-gay-killxr

FOUND! Pure Imagination by Witch_Nova221 (T, 119k, wangxian, LXC/NMJ, JYL/JZX, LSZ LWJ & WWX, modern w magic, Romance, Toys, Toy maker, Magic, Found Family, Family Feels, Family Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hospitals, Mentions of Cancer, Minor Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Loss of Parent(s))

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4. Hi!! Thanks for your work, I have been looking for a fic I read I while ago. It is a MDZSxTGCF crossover, it starts with Wei Ying arriving to ghost city after his death and Hualian finding him (I'm pretty sure he calls Xie Lian an angel at some point). Some time later, Lan Zhan travels to the ghost city to find Wei Ying, he doesn't find him but Hua Cheng lent him some luck so they can reunite soon.

Thank again for everything!!! @jesuqueso

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5. hi! im looking for a fic where the juniors of lotus pier think wwx gives the worst punishment. in reality, wwx just deliveres them to the most appropriate adult to deal with it. like if the best punishment would be "im not mad just disappointed" lecture, then he'll drop the kids off to jaing yanli or if they need handstands then to lan wangji and so on.. but wwx himself rarely punished them and somehow the juniors came to the conclusion that he must give out the worst punishment

this was just a small scene from a long fic. not even related to plot, i think this scene was towards the end. @mumblerovertmblr

FOUND! I'm pretty sure 5 is And Time Is But a Paper Moon by sami (M, 139k, WangXian, XiChengQing, Time Travel, Fix-It, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Healing, Mental Health Issues, PTSD, Hurt/Comfort, Depression, BAMF WWX, BAMF JC, BAMF LWJ, BAMF JYL, Getting Together) or one of its sequels / yes like previouly said, it is in And Time Is But A Paper Moon by sami, in chapter 20!

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6. For the next Fic Finder – I was looking for a fic to suggest for an ITMF request, but I can’t find it! It’s a modern AU, where LQR suggests a marriage between JYL and LWJ (after a scandal with JGS comes to light, making JZX a bad option even though JYL still wants to marry him). But LWJ and WWX are already secretly dating, so WWX chaperones JYL and LWJ on a “date” where they finally tell her they are together, and then go about telling the rest of their family through the rest of the fic. @eorlgreylady

FOUND! I think 6 is A Sequence of coming out by kippalittlefox, but it seems to be deleted.

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7. What I remember from it is that WWX was in the bath before some people broke into the jingshi and held him hostage when LWJ got back. He had a string to his throat, or a knife not fully sure. After the guys that broke in were killed and it was like the next day, JC came by and the three of them started talking in the middle of CR so that the others would know that LWJ killed the men because they tried to kill his husband and if they wanted to see the scar left across WWX's throat.

This part was at the end of it, but I don't remember it being long. Don't really remember honestly

FOUND! sounds like No journey is too long by dea_liberty (M, 12k, wangxian, Post-Canon, Found Families, Epilogue, Happy Ending, Some angst, a lot of feelings, WWX has some PTSD to deal with, Minor Violence) the last in a five-part post canon series. The incident takes place in an inn, not the Jingshi, but other details match

~*~

8. Hi! I’m kinda desperate now.

I’m looking for a fic where a-yuan or I think OC child is wwx and lwj biological child. I remember there is a chapter wherein before dying (due to canon stuff), wwx confessed to lwj that they had a child together. Then wwx died and I think they search for for the child (I forgot who saw the child but I sure it is either lxc or lwj)

I really appreciate it if you help me😭

~*~

9. Hey! I'm looking for a fic I've read once but can't seem to find it anymore.

It was a modern Wangxian au where LWJ is a motorbike racer and WWX is a single parent to A-Yuan. LWJ sees WWX on the street as he drives by and circles back just to ask him out on a date. Incredibly sweet fic and I would like to read it again.

Thank you! 😘 @lucica-stuff

FOUND! My Heart is the Finish Line by UseMyMuse (E, 29k, WangXian, Bikerji, dadxian, Mpreg)

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10. There's a long modern au where lwj and lxc are art agents or something and wwx is an artist. But the main thing of the fic is that wwx hears from mxy that lwj FUCKS and might have a spreadsheet for it. This turns wwxs world upside down cause lwj is his best friend and he'd never known this. Then there's pining. Wwx painting a triptych, pining while fucking and finally the two idiots talk. There was also a b side version from lwjs pov. I cannot find this fic now. Help.

FOUND! show me a quiver, give me tonight by spookykingdomstarlight (E, 115k, wangxian, lwj/others, communication failure, mutual pining, artists, demisexual wwx, angst w/ happy ending)

~*~

11. hello! i need help looking for a fic please 🙏🏻

i remember a lot but these are the important bits: modern au, wwx & lwj used to be classmates, nhs finally convinced wwx to confess his feelings for lwj, and when he did (in public, blurting out loud cause he was VERY nervous), lwj thought it was a prank, got angry and rejected wwx. wwx was devastated, nhs felt guilty, planned to drink & then met wen xu. wwx and wen xu get together, but wwx ran away (?) with wx. he was actually in an abusive & manipulative relationship with wx. then wwx adopts wen yuan and he fled with wy. years later, wwx owns a cafe, wy is a teen and they accidentally meet lwj again at the cafe. the junior ensemble is there, things happen and wx finds wwx but there is a happy ending.

i have TRIED looking for it myself but to no avail. (This part added to an itmf)

we are blessed in this community for all the work that you do, thank you so much! 🙇🏻‍♀️ @emkaii

FOUND! how to make your dad fall in love with your high school teacher in five steps; the complete and bulletproof guide by ravenditefairylights (T, 90k, WangXian, Modern AU, Coffee shop AU, NB LSZ, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Angst, Genderfluid WWX)

~*~

12. Hi i'm looking for a wangxian fic were everyone watches (fallows lan wangji) wei wuxian and thinks that he gave birth to lan sizhui. its on ao3 @sansfan286

FOUND? Assumptions by draechaeli (T, 50k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Mainly Novel with a few CQL and Donghua bits, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Adoption, Adoption but WWX birthed them all, not mpreg, Not Established Relationship, Fluff, Canon-Typical Violence, Fix-It, gender non-conforming titles) the mirror follows WWX but they assume A-Yuan is the bio kid bc of convos they overhear but

FOUND? We made every mistake by JosieLinton2002 (T, 10k, WIP, WangXian, Mpreg) also features a mirror where they spy on WWX and they discover A-Yuan is Wangxian's bio kid

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13. Hi can you guys help me find a fic? It was a modern au; it was about Lwj slowly realizing the Jiangs neglect Wwx or something along those lines. I remember two scenes, one where they were talking about gifts, and Wwx said Madam Yu got him shampoo and conditioner for his birthday, and Wwx thought that was normal. The second scene was Lwj learning Wwx is left alone in the house when the Jiang family goes on vacation.

FOUND? Lessons in Belonging by Nyatci (M, 12k, wangxian, Modern, Childhood Friends to Lovers, POV LWJ, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Canonical Child Abuse, Bad Parents JFM & YZY, Not Jiang Family Friendly, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Homophobia, Good Uncle LQR, background 3zun, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Assumed Asexuality, some mild non-overly-explicit smut, LWJ really wants to put a ring on it so he does, Domestic Fluff, wangxian adopt a-yuan, 5+1 Things)

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14. this is for ficfinder.

I read a fic a couple of months ago and I can't find it.

in it, lwj dies because of the lan elders in the cave, and wwx gets really really mad (obvi) and then gives half of his heart to lwj surgically (literally)

FOUND! To Love a Lonely God by sunandseas (E, 6k, WangXian, Body Horror, Blood and Gore, Wwx gives Lwj his heart, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF WWX, Hurt LWJ, Dark WWX, Dark LWJ, Temporary Character Death, sacrifice as a form of love, Murder Husbands)

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15. For fic finder: It was a modern au about sport dueling. You could duel in pairs or one on one, and WWX and JC were raised to be a pair but Madame Yu kept them apart, I think? Anyhoo, JC goes on to pair with Jiang Yanli and WWX eventually teams up with LWJ and win the championship. I feel like someone got kidnapped halfway through?

FOUND! I feel like I win when I lose by so_shhy (T, 25k, wangxian, modern cultivation, Sports AU, Getting Together, some semblance of a plot, gently implied 3zun, obsessively observing someone from a distance is super romantic, LWJ pls use your words, really WWX cannot be blamed for obliviousness in this one, WC causing trouble, WN is precious, Fluff, Podfic Available)

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16. Hi! I can't seem to find a fix I really loved -- I remember it was sort of cyberpunk cultivation world and wwx downloaded himself into a sexbot which fought with lwj who realized he was fully sentient and took him home. There's eventual wen remnants and wwx has a secret agenda.

FOUND? In Imitation of Life by travelingneuritis (E, 70k, wangxian, modern cultivation, scifi au, android WWX, tone: neon seedy, rich people are bored and terrible, post-apocalyptoc landscape, happy ending, smut, severe major characger injury, time loss)

~*~

17. Hi! I read a fic ao3 and i forgot to bookmark it. It’s a modern and i remember wwx being a ceo of a huge tech company and lan zhan ran away and kinda asked wwx to be his sugar daddy??

FOUND? finally safe (for me to fall) by sassybluee (E, 77k, WangXian, Modern: No Powers, Sugar Daddy, Age Difference, Sex Work, Rich WWX, Older WWX, Service Top WWX, Poor LWJ, Single Parent LWJ, Sugar Baby LWJ, Family Issues, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Slow Burn, Cockblocking, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, No Lube, Lube, Addiction, Compulsory Heterosexuality, Implied/Referenced Abuse, wangxian + others) sigh so good

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18. Hii I'm looking for these fics I read not long ago, couldn't find it anymore,

A) it's a short one I believe? Where nie huaisang kinda drags wwx with him to the past and wwx was livid (wwx chocked nhs or something), the scene happened in front alot of ppl .

B) I've read multiple like this one can't remember the exact one but it's where wwx was actually female, and hid her true ID from the jinags, and was discovered by the Lans or something

C) it's similar to b but I remember this scene it was an established Relationship post canon? Where wwx got her og body back after being resurrected by male mxy

Thanks in advance ☆ @karinasnowwwx

18A)

FOUND? Selfish by Valeska (T, 2k, NHS & WWX, Time Travel, NHS Needs a Hug, WWX Needs a Hug, YLLZ WWX, Sunshot Campaign, NHS kinda messes up, WWX needs a break, Hurt No Comfort, no NHS bashing even if it kinda sounds like that in the summary, he's tired and desperate, which doesn't mix well with presenting opportunities as we know)

18B)

FOUND? 🔒 Fallen Flowers and Closed Blooms by mondengel (M, 1k, wangxian, Female WWX, Creepy JFM)

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19. hello, I am looking for a fic " where lan wangji save wei wuxian after he jump from the cliff. baoshan rescued wei wuxian, lan wangji ang wen yuan from a cave and save wei wuxian by giving him his mother's core, later wei wuxian and lanwangji become demonic cultivator and immortal. "

FOUND? It's not a perfect match, but Ghosts Shouldn’t by ShanaStoryteller (Not Rated, 15k, WangXian, Grief/Mourning, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending)

~*~

20. Hello! I’m trying to find a modern AU fic where the Lans still run a school, and in the backstory, WWX did something, got expelled over it (can’t remember why, it’s either punching JZX or messing with LWJ) and after being sent home, Madam Yu disowned him and threw him out of the house. There was also a mention that LQR was horrified, because the other times he expelled someone, they simply petitioned to be readmitted to the school and he was expecting that to happen with WWX.

Unfortunately that’s all I remember. Any ideas help!

FOUND!🔒With Intent by KizuKatana (E, 14k, WangXian, modern cultivator au, Modern with Magic, First Time, YLLZ WWX, WWX/others (minor), Jealous LWJ)

~*~

#wangxian #mdzs #wangxian fic finder #wangxian fic search #the untamed #wangxianficfinder #long post

[mediumgayitalian]

fic rec friday 5

hi!! welcome to fic rec friday. every week, i pick five fics i have bookmarked and rec them with a little review. check them out!

You and I were Fireworks by percyspandapillowpet

“Eleven fifty-eight,” he said, and when he tilted his head back up, his eyes were sparkling. “There’s still enough time to go see the fireworks,” Nico realized aloud. “Do you want to…” Will shook his head, expression unchanging. “Nah. Fireworks are overrated. I’d rather stay here with you.”

look one thing this author can nail is SWEET. also will with his seltzer made me smile idk why but it did. im just a huge fan of slice of life stories and this is such a cute one!!

2. Love Wins by percysandapillowpet

“I’ll be right there!” he shouted, and the knocking stopped. On a count of three, he managed to push the duvet off his arms and legs and let his feet fall to the floor. He glanced down at what he was wearing—a black t-shirt and flannel pants, that would have to do—and walked over to the door. “What do you want, Solace?” he asked, pulling it open. Will was all smiles and sunshine. “Did you hear?” Nico narrowed his eyes. “Hear what? If this is some big event, then no, because I’ve been asleep like a normal person.” Will might as well have been jumping up and down, he looked so excited. “Nico, they did it! The Supreme Court legalized same-sex marriage for the entire country! This morning!”

i read this fic in 2017 actually. and i REMEMBER how huge 2015 was; i'm canadian but it was massive. i was 12/13ish so i was in percy jackson back then too, and i remember reading DOZENS of fics that came out right after. this was so huge and this fic captures that :)

3. I Think You're My Best Friend by percyspandapillowpet

“You know what always makes cleaning more fun?” Will asked, sweeping a pile of dust and dirt into the center of the room. “What?” Nico replied, trying to hold back a smile. He found himself doing that a lot these days, too. Will set his broom down against one of the cots that lined the wall. “Music!”

this one made me melt bc personally....if someone called me their favourite i would never ever recover. never ever. and i love short & sweet fics about specific interactions/moments!! and this author nails that!!

4. Darkness by percyspandapillowpet

“So,” Will says, slightly awkwardly, making Nico realize that he forgot to respond to whatever he last said. “Um, you wanted something to take your mind off things?” He pulls back from the hug just enough to see his face, holding him at arms length. “I’ve, uh, got an idea.” He’s not used to Will looking so unsure of himself. He’s always acting so overly cocky. Kiss me, Nico thinks. “What?” he asks. Will smiles, then, his confidence restored. “Let’s go for a hike.”

sweet kisses in nature....the big three boys truly know how it's done bc the way i would SWOON and crumble. also i love it when nico is so so bad at like talking to people lol. hes so real.

5. Past, Present, Future by percyspandapillowpet

“We’ll help her, okay?” Will continues. “We’ll do the best that we can. You and I both know what this feels like. We need to give her support and take care of her for a while.” He nods again, glancing at her sleeping form in the cot. She looks a little less pained, and a little more peaceful. Nico is already dreading how she might react when she wakes again. “We’ll take care of her,” he repeats.

first of all proposal fics get me literally every time. second of all i do love fics where ppl explore what theyre future might look like!!! what they might be when theyre older!! theyre so careful with each other u know.

thank you for joining me this friday!! happy reading!!

#sorry its all fromt he same author 💀💀 #i read fics by author always and im doing my bookmarks in order #pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #hoo #heroes of olympus #pjo hoo toa #nico di angelo #will solace #nico di angelo/will solace #nico/will #will/nico #fic rec #FRF #fic rec friday #longpost

[drghostwrite]

I just read ur Arizona fic and yesss I love it, I love Arizona but why isn’t there more Arizona fics tho?! :’(

Can I ask for Arizona x reader with the prompts "Just put the [weapon] down, I'm not going to hurt you." With like the reader protecting the peds area and especially protecting Arizona During the ‘u know what’ episode (🔫 ) And idk a fluff prompt because why are ur prompts all so good I can’t choose. And please angst but fluffy ending😭 I hope ur doing well and keeping yourself healthy! <3

Omg yea, I’m so sorry that I missed this in my inbox but here it is and I hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Arizona Robbins x reader

Summary: above, but basically during the you know what and reader is being a scary protective wifey lol

********************************************************

Bang!

You heard a shot ring out and then another and another, you hit the floor behind the large nurses station, watched as people ran out hearing sneakers squeak on the floor. You sat waiting listening your ears straining to hear anything more after people cleared out you came out from under the desk. You knew Arizona had no idea what was going on, she had got out of surgery and was now it peds helping her tiny humans.

you turned making your way to the atrium, you could hear talking and looked up seeing the gunman standing there, you heard another shot ring out watching Derek hit the ground and then you listened as you could hear another voice and higher, fragile voice… it was Kepner begging for her life.

You raced to the stairwell knowing you had to make it to your wife before the psycho with the gun could, you heart raced as you ran up the stairs your legs burning as you propelled yourself forward, after several bounding flights you burst through the door running down the winding hallway.

you ran past a patient room and that’s when you saw her the blonde hair whipping around, you quickly backtracked and burst through the door.

“Y/N?!”

“Arizona, thank God.” You breathed a sigh of relief as she approached you and you pulled her into a hug.

“what’s going on? Y/N I heard…”

“gunshots it was gunshots… Derek and a few others have gone down…”

“What…” she whispered.

“Yea we need to get out of here…”

“I can’t a lot of these kids can’t be moved, Y/N we’re sitting ducks.”

“no… I’ll figure this out just keep them calm we’ll get through this., I’ll be right back.”

“Wait Y/N no…”

“I’ll be right back…I promise.” You looked into her ice blue eyes, kissing her lips before turning and running back out and down the hall, you made your way to the front of the pediatric floor the desk where the shooter would have to make his way through. You picked up the phone and started dialing but not before you heard the shuffling of shoes, looking up you saw the glint of the barrel standing not 10 feet in front of you.

“put the phone down…” he spoke almost in a calm manner.

“okay… okay…” you reached back over the desk hanging up the phone, surrendering your hands in the air. “Just put the gun down, I’m not goi to hurt you, I won’t try anything…” You saw the wound oozing blood from his shoulder, you eyes scanned him from the blood running onto his hand to the way his gun shook as if it was becoming to heavy.

“Are you a surgeon?”

“I-I…”

“ARE you a surgeon?!” He got more stern.

“Yes I am.”

“So how does it feel?… how does it feel to hold lives in your hands and now you’re standing here watching me as I decided what to do with yours.”

“I don’t hold lives in my hands… I save them, I take patients… no not patients... people and I save their lives I give them another chance to live an-and to love, I give people another chance... I'm no God”

“That was taken from my wife… your chief took that from me, he pulled the plug as if she was just another device in the room, killing her taking her from me.”

"Mr.Clark, You're Gary Clarke your wife came in and had brain surgery she was a patient of Dr. Shepard, I remember her case..."

"You remember?" he asked tears coming to his eyes, the gun starting to lower, but before you could continue Arizona ran in seeing the standoff happening, "Wait, wait..."

"Arizona, no...

"You can't do this... There's only children here... you can't do this." she spoke, her voice breaking tears running down her face.

"Who are you?!" He said raising the gun at her.

"NO, no..." you said pulling her behind you, sheilding her with your body.

"Is she a surgeon too?"

"Sh-she is... she's also MY wife, this is the woman I love..."

"They took my wife."

"I know, I know but I'm asking you... Mr. Clark I'm asking you to spare my wife, the mother of my children...err my future children... I want to live a life with her by my side..." You watched as SWAT filled the hall behind him, "I want to travel and show her how much I love her and that she deserves so much better than me..." before he could make a move or you could say another word you heard gun shots and glass shattering, you turned shielding Arizona, you could hear boots stomping in behind you.

As you pulled apart you could hear the chaos around you but you were too focused on the concerned face of your wife, your expression changed from relief to pain when you felt her quickly press her hand to your abdomen.

"Arizona?"

"Y/-Y/N you've been shot... Oh my God you've been shot." you looked down at her hand applying pressure, blood leaking through her fingers, your blood running down her wrist.

"Y/N please no, please no... I can't loose you."

"Arizona?"

"No, God why did you have to be such an idiot, I shouldn't have let you walk out of that room, you'd be safe and with me."

"Arizona I-I ca-an't" your eyes started to flutter and your legs felt weak, the last thing you remembered was hitting the floor and watching as she scrambled, she yelled at the SWAT team trying to get help, any help and then as your eyes closed you could see her above you.

---12 hours later---

You felt a pressure holding your hand and felt tear drops as they hit your arm. you moved your fingers wrapping them around her hand feeling both of her hands tighten around you.

"Y/N?

"Arizona, baby"

"Oh my God Y/N you're awake, I thought I lost you."

"You can't loose me, you're stuck with me for life remember."

"For life?" she said holding you so tightly yet she was so gentle as if she would lose you.

"Forever and Always."

"Forever and Always." she repeated, she was still so gentle with you as if in a moment you would fade away.

"Love I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere, I'm right here, with you."

"I-I thought..." she looked at you and then your lips, leaning in ghosting so close to you, you could feel her breath on your lips.

"You won't break me," you said closing your eyes, she leaned forward making contact, lips on lips. when you pulled apart you moved over the best you could and motioned for her to climb up with you, she laid on her side placing her head on your chest, and you wrapped her in your arms.

"I really thought I was going to lose you, I thought that was it."

"I swear to you Arizona I will always be here for you, I will always fight for you... for us, I will always love you."

#x yn #greys anatomy #arizona robbins x reader #greys abc #arizonarobbinsxpregnantreader #arizona robbins