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hyuckmov · 11 months

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himbo haechan pt.2

first part here wc: 12.9k (!!!) genre: fluff, smut, a little angst if u squint warnings: shower sex, unprotected sex, masturbating, just the tip (!), handjobs, oral (f recieving), dirty talk, fingering, softdom/sub dynamics (haechan doing both), being ignored during sex (!!!), aftercare, creampie a/n: thank u for loving himbo haech and thank you for being patient with me :) this fic took me so long because i originally wasn't going to have a plot, but piecing together scenes didn't feel like it was a sincere effort for how much i loved himbo haech so i tried my best to do more <3 this MIGHT be the tamest thing i've written, if you followed me for filth i promise i will make it up to you in another fic LOL let me know what u think, i hope this is hot, and i really hope you like this !!!

haechan thinks he'll never forget the first time he meets you.

for him, time slowed and there was no other explanation. his heartbeat rushed loud in his ears, a warm glow spread all throughout his body to the tips of his fingers. you had walked into the living room of the house party, angrily mouthing off someone who had spilled his drink on your sleeve, your voice traveling over to him over the undercurrent of the music blasting from the speakers, and he loved it. the sting of your tone, the way your chest rose and fell, the flush in your cheeks.

he wanted to stand by you as close as he could and watch each shade of emotion flicker in your eyes, he wanted to hear the ring of your voice through your chest, he wanted every bit of your attention directed at him. for once in his life, he didn't just want to touch — he wanted to hold.

"renjun…" he whispered, voice reverent and hushed like he was in a church. "i'm in love."

"um…renjun left an hour ago…?" jaemin shifts uncomfortably on the sofa, leaning over haechan and waving his hand in front of his face. "i've been talking to you for the past 10 minutes about next week's hockey game…"

absentmindedly, haechan grabs jaemin's wrist and pulls his hand away from his face, eyes still focused on the way you storm towards the kitchen. "okay renjun."

he sees you walk out, a fresh drink in one hand, the other arm hooked around some guy who he's now forced to acknowledge. but he's nothing compared to haechan, and haechan knows if he tries, if he could just walk over to you, talk to you, get to know you…

"haechan, no." and now mark has swooped into his vision, what was he doing here? grabbing him by the shoulders, mark speaks loudly and slowly to haechan, as if he was scolding a very small toddler. "she has a boyfriend."

who? "um…" his brain skids through potential responses, but he can't make sense of anything mark is saying. "sorry to hear that…" he mumbles.

"this is not the time to be snarky."

where were you now? eyes searching for you over mark's shoulders, he tries to keep up with the conversation. "if you say so, mark."

"jaemin, what's wrong with him? is he drunk?"

"i'm fine, mark–" impassioned, he grabs mark by the forearms, catching him off guard. haechan stumbles to his feet, patting his pockets for his phone, so he can save your number when he gets it, eyes sweeping the room again and finally spotting you as you step into a corridor leading off from the living room. even though his legs just aren't moving, his heart thunders in his chest in a way it hadn't for a long time, a thrum he couldn't keep up with.

his stomach twists when he realises there’s only one explanation for how he feels towards you, as if he was on a rollercoaster about to tip over — a messy tangle of nerves and excitement all at once.

"mark, i think i've found the one."

"i can't believe i really get to hold you like this…" he murmured, in awe.

haechan said something along these lines practically every time you cuddled in the evenings, and the words never faded in their sweetness. lost in his own thoughts, he stroked your hair with slightly shaky hands, and placed a gentle kiss to your temple. "i keep thinking i'm going to blink, and then the next second you'll be yelling at me again…"

you feel a twinge of guilt, and you're just about to apologize when —

"…but also, i kind of miss that too…"

there it was.

"do you want me to pretend to get mad at you?" you suggest, smiling a little as you climb on top of him. there's something reverent in the way he tilts his head up, never breaking eye contact as his hands instinctively come up to grip your waist and steady you. "or you could make me mad on purpose?"

"wouldn't be the first time…" he mumbles, the familiar cloudy look making its way into his irises, his gaze now unfocused and dazed as his eyes flick up and down your body.

"really?"

he nods. "never actually deleted our project, didn't actually submit a draft for the final assignment, didn't really lose your underwear…"

a laugh rises up in your throat, half part incredulous and the other hopelessly endeared.

"if you want me to be rough with you, next time, just ask me," you promise him, patting him on the chest lightly.

"i mean…i keep thinking i want you to get mad at me, so we can fuck like we used to…" he scrunches his nose in thought, lowering his gaze. “but i just… there’s just…”

"but…?"

"but also i really like making love to you," he whispers. "i love it so much, and i feel like, because we're at the start of our relationship it means more.” holding your hands in his now, he gives them a light squeeze. “and i don’t want to ruin that, you know?”

your breath hitches in your throat, and all of a sudden you don’t know what to say.

"does that make sense?" he asks, softly. "did i say something wrong?"

“haechan….” you’re convinced your heart has melted in your chest, tears threatening to fall from your lashes from how raw and intimate he could be with his words. love was so easy to him, and he showed you time and time again that he wouldn’t change. “i love you so-”

“- so should we try shower sex?”

you're speechless.

"from your lack of response, i'm guessing no… but-!" eagerly, he picks up his laptop from the side table, and holds it up so you can see the screen, covering his face all except for the puppy-eyes he's giving you. "look! having shower sex twice a week can reduce the risk of heart diseases by 50%!"

"haechan…"

"we have to do it!" he's so excited he drops his laptop on the bed to hold your hands in his, rubbing your fingers gently as he bounces with excitement. "so we don't get heart disease!"

"i don't think…"

"it also increases mindfulness because it engages all 5 of your senses…" he continues, words coming out in a rehearsed rush, and you can tell he's been researching this topic for a while. "didn't you tell me i should try being more mindful?"

"i kind of meant it more like mindful of your surroundings…" you frown a little. "you still bump into people almost every time we turn a corner on the street…"

"see, we just said the exact same thing," he breathes. "please?"

and although you think you should be desensitized to him already, it still catches you off guard when he sits up to lean in closer. the swell of his lips, the flush shining on the tip of his nose and dusting his cheeks whenever he got excited. it shouldn't affect you, the lights reflected in his eyes, the way they're misty for god knows what reason, and the knowledge that if you asked why, his answer would be that it's because he loves you, so so much.

"haechan…"

"i'll be really gentle…" he says, softly. rubbing hesitant circles on your bare waist with his thumb, he dips his head a little to hold your gaze. "i promise. i'll take care of you."

the words go straight to your gut, a sharp sting ringing high in your nose bridge as you feel a slight prickle of tears in your eyes. he's still looking at you with those eyes you fell for, gentle and patient, the same voice that always soothed and comforted you, with an undertone of fierce devotion that you craved.

melting into his arms, you tuck your head into the curve of his neck. your voice is shaky when you speak. "i'm about to cry," you grumble. "and we're just talking about shower sex."

his laugh vibrates against your chest — the sound is warm, and it feels like home. "i'll take care of you," he repeats in a whisper, lips pressed against your hair.

it really is every bit as sweet as he promised, when you find yourself pressed against the shower wall, strong arms lifting you up as he kisses you fiercely.

"is this okay?" he murmurs, rutting against your core in rough pulses. "this way you don't have to focus on not slipping…"

"yeah…" you gasp as he pushes you against the wall again, adjusting his grip on your thighs. the muscles in his arms tense, and the veins leading down to his fingertips are prominent under his skin. it's so unbelievably hot, the way his chest heaves with need, the soft whine in his breath as the tip of his cock catches against your entrance.

"i can't wait," he blurts out, forehead pressing against yours as he rubs his cock against your wetness again, the blunt tip nudging against your clit and making you cling onto him tighter. "do you want me to prep you some more or… or can i…"

you shake your head. "want you now," you tilt your head to kiss him and he surges towards you eagerly, suckling on your bottom lip hard, desperation heavy in the way he licks into your mouth.

"i'm sorry, i love you, i'm sorry, you're so good to me…" he murmurs, pushing into you with a stretch that makes you tense. his hand soothes down your back, and he shifts you against the wall again. "fuck, i'm sorry baby, just a bit more…" your walls are tight and warm around him, sucking him in as he tries not to buck his hips into you, trying to be as gentle as he promised, mumbling apologies into your skin.

the steam of the shower coiling around your skin and the feeling of being filled up by your boyfriend was almost too much to bear. thighs clamping around him, your mouth falls open as you grip onto his neck for support, fingers curling around the hair at the nape of his neck. and now he's whimpering, his hips jerking forward and suddenly you're taking all of him, filled to the brim by his thick cock.

murmuring another apology, he licks shyly at your neck and presses a kiss to your sweet spot, marking your skin. his nose bumping against the curve of your neck making your heartbeat race, a sweetness you can't quite explain.

"haechan, please move-"

"i…" he swallows, lifting his head to face you. his pupils are blown out, his voice dropping an octave as his fingers tentatively stroke the side of your thigh. "fuck, baby, you have to relax."

"i can't if you don't move-"

"i'm gonna cum if you keep squeezing around me like this," he admits, a small whimper escaping from the back of his throat when you only clench around him harder from his words. "please…" he freckles kisses down your throat, hand rubbing soothingly up your lower back as he pins you to the wall with his hips. slowly, you begin to relax into your position, his touch comforting you and slowing your heart rate down.

"good girl," he praises, softly, with a kiss on your nose.

your heart soars.

he pushes forward, slowly setting a rhythm as he angles his hips deeper, closing his eyes as he melts into the feeling. his tip presses against a spot which makes you whimper, each vein and ridge of his length dragging against your walls and pushing you closer to the edge. your clit aches at the feeling of being stretched out, and you reluctantly take one hand off his shoulders to rub yourself with careful fingers. his hips stutter as you tighten around him again with your own movements, and it only spurs him on to chase both your highs faster.

you start sliding down the wall, smooth tiles warm against your back from the water, but he's too far gone to care – shoving you carelessly higher as he thrusts harshly into you, eyes fluttering open to see the way your tits bounce from his movements, water droplets running down your curves and almost bringing tears to his eyes.

"i wanna touch," his sounds rising in pitch, scratchy moans broken up by jumbled words and curses. "more, want more…" he jerks away one of his hands holding you up to palm at your chest, but you start to slip and he's forced to hold you up again. he's so frustrated he's half groaning, half begging. "please cum, want you to cum on me…"

you can't help the laugh that bubbles from your throat. "are you begging?"

"YES-" he moans, loudly, the sound echoing through the bathroom, booming against the backdrop of running water.

you laugh again, the hand slick at your clit sliding over to his mouth, tips of your fingers brushing his soft lips, and then he's cumming, warm and hot inside you, hips relentless as he all but fucks you into the wall, hands cushioning your hips yet gripping you in a way that would leave bruises of their own. the feeling of his cock throbbing inside you making you cum as well, thighs wrapping around his waist like a vice, body hypersensitive, feeling every single rivulet of water running down your skin.

it's a while before you both drift back to the present moment, as he seems frozen in his position, chest heaving and eyes unfocused.

as he lets you slide down to stand on your own two feet, his arms still holding you slumped against him, he groans low in his chest.

"next time, we're doing this in the tub."

part of being with haechan is getting to know his friends, which is why you're currently sitting in between haechan's legs, in a circle with them around a monopoly board as renjun complains about for what feels like the thousandth time.

"this is so unfair," renjun grumbles, as he shoves a few paper bills in haechan's direction, crumpling them in the process.

"the rent is $200. you only gave me $10."

"i don't HAVE $200–"

"then drink." haechan pushes the bottle towards him. "one shot for every $50 you owe me," he reminds him, smiling triumphantly.

it was something jaemin and haechan had thought up together. a drinking game infused with monopoly, where no players would ever go bankrupt, as long as they kept drinking for the money they owed.

as well as a shot whenever you passed go, whenever you bought a property, and a dozen other random rules designed to make everyone pass out before the night ended.

"haechan always wins," renjun jabs a finger at him accusatorily. "because he always gets y/n's help when the game starts —"

"how is it my fault for having a smart girlfriend?"

"if anything," jaemin chimes in, more for the fun of it than the actual argument. "you should pass her around each round, so we all get one chance at winning."

haechan narrows his eyes, brows furrowed in suspicion. "is that a double entrée?"

"you mean double entendre," you mutter.

"yeah, what she said."

"you two need to relax," jaemin waves a hand in the air, dismissively. "no one wants to fuck your girlfriend."

"why not?"

"you're impossible."

"but –" renjun hiccups, finishing the last of the soju. "it's also unfair that the more haechan drinks, the more rational he becomes. why do we still play drinking games with him? if we played monopoly sober—"

haechan boos him vehemently, and jaemin joins in happily, switching sides in a heartbeat.

"- haechan wouldn't stand a chance. he'd still be asking me what direction you went in on the board–"

"that was my first time," he mumbles, self-consciously. you pat him on the shoulder, soothingly, and he takes the opportunity of renjun now yelling at jaemin, to study your face, brushing your hair away from your eyes.

"are you okay? do you want some water?"

your pause before answering is all he needs. truthfully, you tapped out after the third time haechan passed go, letting him take the reins as the excessive alcohol miraculously cleared his head. the more you drank, the more you craved skin-on-skin contact with him, getting spacey and quiet. haechan loved it, feeling you pliant and a little needy in his arms, but it worried him just as much when you couldn't bicker back and forth with him.

helping you to your feet, he hooks his arm in yours and shuffles towards the kitchen, not even bothering to wave to jaemin and renjun, who were at that point heatedly dividing their assets over the game board.

haechan pours a cup of water for you, his hands moving sure and steady under the fluorescent lights as he holds it up to your lips. you reach out to hold it yourself, but he stops you with a hum, tilting it up to your lips.

"i don't want you to drop it," he says, fondly. "take a sip?"

feeling shy under his gaze, you drink carefully, dribbling some onto your chin when he lifts the cup too early.

"messy baby," he teases, softly, his thumb brushing your lips as he wipes your chin carefully.

now you're sure the feeling in your stomach is not nausea from the alcohol, but the need to have your boyfriend pressed up against you right that second. a whine rises from the back of your throat – a habit you'd picked up from him, and you bury your face in his chest, making him laugh. the sound is deeper and warmer than you'd ever heard it, buzzing against your ear and making your chest fill with butterflies. you've never seen him like this. something authoritative in the way he guides you towards the kitchen counter, coaxing you to take another sip of water as he looks at you lovingly.

"you should go to bed soon." sliding his phone out from his back pocket, he flashes his lockscreen at you – a photo of the two of you, taken on jaemin's film camera.

distracted, you blink up at him. "why?"

"you have that essay due tomorrow?" mindlessly drawing circles on your waist, he looks deep into your eyes, hoping you're really listening. "you told me you were almost done, but i know you always manage to find some way to make it more complicated…and your proofreading always takes hours…"

it's a little hot, how clear-headed and coherent he was being, in the dead of night after rounds and rounds of drinks. fuck that, it was making you feel dizzy, the way he slid his palm onto your forehead to check your temperature when you don't respond.

"baby? are you with me?"

"renjun was right…this is so unfair," you mumble. "did you secretly stay sober or something?"

"i'm hammered, actually." smiling, he takes his own sip of water from the cup. "can't you tell?" there's something tender in that moment, as the tip of his nose brushes against yours, as he pulls you closer and you can smell his fabric softener on the oversized shirt he's wearing. the faint perfume he wears fills your senses, and he smells so good, and his arms are so firm around you…

"haechan," you're a little breathless. "i need you."

"what?"

your hands fumble with his shirt, sliding underneath it to touch the bare skin of his waist, and he sucks in a sharp breath.

"fuck." he lowers his head, eyes closing as he takes a shuddering breath. "not right now, baby."

"i know, i mean when they leave –"

"i mean not today. not while you're this drunk, i'm sorry –" at the look on your face, he presses a quick kiss to both your cheeks, your forehead, the tip of your nose and finally your mouth. "i'm sorry," he repeats, softly. "it doesn't feel right."

"i thought you wanted –"

"trust me, i do…" he bites his lip, and now he takes a step away from you, trying not to let the feeling of you in his arms affect his judgement. "you have no idea how much i want to."

"so –"

"but not like this," he says, firmly. "i don't think we're ready for it right now. hey –" you're pulling away from him too, now trying to leave the kitchen. "i'm still going to help you take off your makeup and get undressed —"

"yeah?"

"and then we're going to go to bed." he pleads with you with his eyes. "i'll do everything with you in the morning, after you're done with your assignment, okay?"

a beat.

"y/n…" sternly, he tilts your chin up to look him in the eye, and it makes you shrink a little, but god it makes you want him more. "okay?"

sullen, you nod.

"use your words."

fuck. "okay," you breathe, meekly, even though every impulse in your body is making you want to pull his body into yours. somewhere in the haze of your mind, you still can't shake the way his broad shoulders look under the light as he guides you out of the kitchen, your hand held tightly in his.

the gentle morning light and the silence of your apartment is comforting, as you sip your drink and wait for the pain in your head to subside.

after haechan had rejected you, he had kicked out renjun and jaemin, bringing you to bed immediately. wiping your skin with makeup wipes, and kissing you to ward you off as your hands kept wandering to him was probably the most torture you had ever put him through. you almost felt bad when you realised you truly couldn't spend time with him today either, your mind clearing and focusing on the assignment that haechan rightly pointed out you still had to complete.

so when he slinks into the kitchen and wraps his arms around you, you lean into his touch instinctively, curving your body into his.

it's also why his sudden gasp makes you jump.

"what–"

"angel…" he's starry-eyed, voice hushed and reverent as he gently brushes the underside of your boobs with his fingers. "are you not wearing anything under this shirt?"

it was as if the him from last night had completely evaporated. "um, yeah…"

"did i do something good?" his big hands shamelessly cup your breasts, squeezing them together as he sighs. "is this a reward?"

"i mean…you were really responsible last night…"

hopping up happily against the kitchen counter and sandwiching you between his legs, he kisses you on the mouth sweetly, barely able to contain his smile. "i love you," he whispers against your lips, hands roaming up your shirt and teasing over your nipples. "we're going to have so much fun today."

"about that…" you place your hands over his own through your shirt, halting his movements. "you can't fuck me today, i'm sorry."

he lets out a dramatic, betrayed gasp, heart-shaped lips parting and eyes glistening with hurt. "why would you say that?"

you blink. "because it's true…?"

"are you…are you finally sick of me…?" his hands drop from under your shirt, tracing a sad circle with his fingertip on his toned thighs. "of my cock?"

"haechan, it's 8 in the morning."

"is it your vibrator? has it replaced me?"

"this has nothing to do with you —"

"YOU'RE FUCKING RENJUN?"

you wind your fingers into his hair and tug, harshly.

it's not your favorite trick, you admit, because the reaction was always 50/50. he would get either even more distracted, or focus up and listen to you — even if for the purpose of discerning when you would be down to fuck next.

today he lets out a quiet moan, head falling to your shoulder as his hands find your chest again.

"first the shirt, now this —" he mumbles, gloomily. "you're evil."

"i'm busy." you push at his shoulders so he'll straighten up and face you, but his face is still resolutely nuzzled against your neck.

"you're always busy," he bites back, frustrated. "last week, and the week before that, and the week before that."

"yeah, because i go to college?" you remind him. "and you do too?"

"but can you really not spare 20 minutes?" he whines, lifting his head to look at you with hurt eyes.

there's a pause, as he takes a deep breath.

"i'm sorry —"

"no, it's okay," he mumbles. "i shouldn't be pressuring you." biting his lip, he leans in again, resting his weight on yours.

"how long will you be gone today?" he asks, quietly.

"i'll be staying at home," you comfort him.

"i can keep you company," he says, quickly.

"haechan –"

"i won't even distract you," he continues, his words a sharp contrast from how his pouty lips brushed your skin, casually starting to pepper kisses under your jaw. his voice dips low when he adds, "i can be good."

"right." your focus has been ripped to shreds as his movements grow more needy, his touches on your chest making you arch into him for more. when his thumb circles your nipple, teeth biting down gently on the sweet spot on your neck, you can't help letting out a whimper, slumping against him just slightly as your knees start to feel weak.

he laughs at that, finally straightening and pulling away from you.

"yeah," he says, proudly. "there's no way you're sick of me and my cock."

a few hours later, all his bravado had completely melted away, the signature whine coming back to his voice.

"not done? still?"

"you're stressing me out."

behind you, the boy lets out a wounded sound. "but i even got you those resources from the library…"

"those were really helpful," you concede. you didn't know he had it in him, but apparently all the sessions you'd spent together in the library really paid off. "i just have a bit more to write."

the first hour, he'd been content with lying on the bed and watching you work at your desk. the second hour, he moved the whole desk closer to the bed, – almost breaking a lamp in the process –, so he could hold your hand and play with your fingers when you were scrolling through research articles.

he dozed off when you had to type – a hand splayed firmly on your thigh, and when he woke up, eagerly pulling you towards the bed and hands already teasing under your waistband, you had quickly asked him if he could go to the library to get you a book that could help.

which led you to where you sat now, between his spread legs in front of the coffee table, his hands holding your boobs as you struggled through your last few paragraphs.

"i'll wait," he says, softly, arms now falling to your waist as he pulls you in for a hug. you lean back on his chest, but you're surprised when he starts to stand, untangling himself from you and gently placing a pillow behind your back for support.

you feel a little pathetic when you ask, "where are you going…?"

"i don't want to distract you, baby." he squats down and places a kiss on your cheek, his other hand caressing your face. "i'll wait for you in our room, okay?"

"okay…" you say, watching him shuffle to the bedroom, feeling that the room lost a bit of its energy.

without haechan, you can focus a lot better, and you almost guiltily speed past the rest of your project, feeling bad for neglecting him. you don't even bother to check your writing again as you're submitting it, all your thoughts now concentrated on your boyfriend, alone in his room, waiting patiently for you to spend time with him.

placing your laptop on the table, you make your way down the hallway, thinking about maybe being extra sweet to haechan as a thank you for being so supportive today, when your footsteps falter and you stop just outside your bedroom.

because seeping out of the door are sounds of crying, choked sobs and whimpers of your name muffled but unmistakable.

was he that upset? the forlorn expression on his face resurfaces his mind, the way his voice went quiet, how he begged that he could be good for you. maybe it wouldn't have hurt to indulge him a little in the morning — judging from the time now, you still probably would have made your deadline.

"haechan?" you knock, hesitantly, but there's no reply, only a low, pained sound of…frustration? sadness? it worries you, so you push open the door gently, eyes immediately darting to the bed where he lays on the sheets.

and you freeze.

because unlike the weepy, sad, haechan you had imagined, you're faced with something completely different – haechan, shirtless, leaning against the headboard, his legs twitching on the bed as he strokes his cock fast, hips bucking up into his fist as he throws his head back and moans loudly, cum splattered over his bare torso telling you he was overstimulating himself, again.

for how well you know him, you really should have seen this coming.

"i'm sorry, baby," he whimpers, hand still moving slowly despite being caught, and you can see how red he is all over — flushed cheeks and ears, the tip of his cock peeking out from his hand. "i wanted to be good for you, but i just- couldn't- wait…"

crossing over to the bed, you sit by his side and look him in the eyes, his hand speeding up as he pants, looking back at you.

"you like me that much? that you could cum just from thinking about me?"

"yeah," he moans, his other hand now teasing his own nipple, pinching it and rolling it with his fingers. "c-can cum just from, looking at you, even if you're not d-doing anything…"

"then you don't need me now, right?"

"no –!" his clean hand darts out to grab onto your wrist, his other halting and squeezing the base of his cock, trying not to cum. "please, i need you so bad, want you to help me…"

you sigh, pulling away from him. "i don't know, i'm not really in the mood right now," you lie.

"please," he begs, trying to shuffle closer to you, but you back away. "i need to be inside you right now…"

"but i'm still sore from last time. it hurts." you try to act like none of this is getting to you, but it's way too difficult, especially when haechan finally manages to kiss your neck, shuddering against you as his other hand gives a careful stroke.

"what about just the tip?" he pleads, voice small.

you roll your eyes. "as if you could be satisfied with just the tip –"

"i'll be good…" he whines, softly. "just the tip, okay? just really need to feel you right now…it'll just be a bit of a stretch…"

"you won't bottom out?"

"no," he shifts uncomfortably, his hand squeezing tighter around the base as the thought of being in you, even just the tip, brings him closer to cumming than he would like. "i'll fuck you with just the tip, i promise."

you barely give him the okay before he's tugging impatiently at the waistband of your barely-there shorts and panties, groaning loudly when his fingers drag through your folds.

"you're killing me," he pants, shaky fingers rubbing your clit. "i'm gonna make you cum first, okay?"

"just-" you try to keep your voice level, but when he slips a finger into your hole, your body crumples against his. "just make me cum on your cock –"

"baby, i want to…" his lips are soft against yours, as he consoles you with short kisses. "but i might cum way too fast if i fuck you right now."

"with just the tip," you remind him, biting back a moan when he slips in a second finger and starts making scissoring motions.

"yeah, you want to be stretched out, hm?" he smiles when he feels you clench tighter around his fingers. "you don't mind if i don't fill you up?"

internally, you start to curse yourself, because fuck you do want him to fill you up. "i don't mind…" you say, weakly, focusing instead on the way he was circling your clit as he crooks his fingers against your walls.

"so warm and tight," he groans. "you're close, right?"

"yes–"

his movements on your clit speed up and your hips buck into his hand, grinding against his fingers. "fuck, that's so hot." his lips wrap around your nipple through your shirt, and you moan as he sucks wetly, lips brushing your chest as he speaks. "you look so pretty riding my fingers, baby."

you tumble headfirst into your orgasm, body shuddering against his when he applies a sinful pressure against your clit, the way he looked up at you through half-lidded eyes too much to bear. he pulls his fingers out from between your legs, immediately sticking them in his mouth and sighing at the taste, his other hand caressing your hip soothingly.

"lay down for me," he coaxes, touch gentle as he maneuvers your legs around his waist. running the tip of his cock through your soaked cunt, he lets out a shaky moan, tones rising dizzyingly higher as he presses against your entrance.

"haechan…" you plead, as he nudges your clit with his cock, making your hips jolt.

he reaches out to squeeze your hand. "i'm right here," he murmurs, kissing your fingertips lightly as he brushes your hole with the pink head of his cock. his words make your chest flutter in a way that has nothing to do with the ache between your legs. "i'm here," he repeats, softly, as he slowly slips the bulbous tip of his cock into you, and you can feel yourself clench tight around him, sucking him in further despite his efforts to pull out.

"can you cum like this?" his tone is still soft as he reaches to rub your clit, applying light pressure, fingers slipping from how wet you were. "because, i think i can cum like this, feels so sensitive…" he wags his hips a few times, feeling the head of his cock move inside you, and he moans weakly. "is this what you wanted, baby?"

your legs clamp tight around his waist, trying not to move your own hips, focusing on his shallow thrusts and the slight pain of the stretch. in truth, you wanted him to push deeper into you, craving both the way his thick cock always made you feel full, and the feeling of him pressing you into the bed under his weight. you just had to hold out until he started begging for more.

"feels so good, haechan," you praise, and he flushes, rubbing your clit even faster as he moves against you.

"you don't-" he pants. "are you sure you don't want more? you're okay with this?" his voice sounds almost hopeful.

you nod again, tugging him towards you for a kiss, the slight shift in his position making his cock slide deeper into you. he moans low against your lips, breaking away quickly and pulling out entirely. "fuck, sorry–"

but then he's shoving himself back into you roughly, going past the tip and sinking deep into your cunt as he lets out a satisfied groan, and you can feel his hips flush against yours as he covers you with his body. kissing you harshly, his tongue strokes the roof of your mouth as he moans again, hips now thrusting fast into yours, wet sounds filling the room as he pushes deep into you each time.

"haechan!"

"i'm sorry, i'm sorry," he gasps, although his hips are relentless against yours, hands pushing your thighs up so he can reach deeper into you, "i couldn't, you're so fucking wet and tight and warm –" you can feel him throb inside you as he fucks you, riled up by his own thoughts. "wanted to feel you all over me…"

his angles his hips again, searching for your soft spot, holding your body tight against his. when he feels you tighten around him, back arching and nipples brushing against his in a way that makes electricity run down his spine, he bucks into you, your sounds in his ear telling him you were reaching your high.

after being teased with his tip, you much appreciated the feeling of him being sheathed deep inside you, his cock nudging your sweet spot and making you clench harder around him each time. when his fingers find your clit again, it only takes a few seconds before you're cumming hard around him, feeling slick on your thighs with the force of your orgasm. seeing your cum form rings of white on his cock makes him whimper, and your lips brushing against his skin is all it takes for him to cum too, soaking your walls and making you hiss at the sensitivity.

you lie there for a moment, basking in the feeling of him lying against you, feeling too tired and filthy to move. stroking his back tenderly, you notice his breathing doesn't even out as it usually does, and when you feel hot tears on your shoulder you jolt, alarmed.

"haechan, what's wrong?"

"did i hurt you?" he sniffles, lifting his weight off of you so he could check on your body. "i'm sorry, i know i promised just the tip, you said you were sore…"

your heart flutters in your chest as he pulls out, wiping between your legs gently with his shirt even as tears run down his cheeks. "i d-didn't mean to hurt you…" he breathes. he closes your legs carefully, before running his hands over your thighs. "are you okay? please say you're okay…"

"haechan, i'm fine, really," you sit up to reach him, but he quickly stops you, laying a hand on your shoulder.

"you should rest-"

"haechan i was just…" you place your hand over his, intertwining your fingers in a reassuring manner. "i was just teasing. i wasn't actually sore."

a sniffle. "really?"

"yes, of course –" you squeeze his hand. "thank you for taking care of me."

it takes a little more reassurance and a lot of kissing to get him to smile, as he prepares a hot bath for you, skidding off to the kitchen to make something for dinner. you eat dinner while cuddling with him in front of the television, your legs in his lap as he pours wine for the both of you, the glasses he bought to 'look smarter when i'm with you' slipping down his nose as he focuses his gaze on your lips for a little too long, watching your tongue dart out as you taste the wine.

it's times like these – with his arms around your waist and his eyes never leaving yours as you tell him the most trivial thing about your day, — where you cannot imagine ever living a life before you were loved by him, and the very thought of a universe where the two of you couldn't speak to each other was enough to make your breath catch in your throat, and make your chest feel tight.

"you okay?" he takes the wine glass from your hand, brushing his lips against yours softly. only haechan would think that kissing you would be a way to get you to focus.

"i'm thinking too much," you admit, leaning into him and pressing your cheek against his.

"about…?" a kiss on your nose.

when you looked at him again, your worries did seem to fall away. it didn't ever seem possible that he would fall out of love with you, or even think about replacing you, what with the way he was holding you so carefully, eyes doing that deep dive into your own that always left you feeling naked and vulnerable.

"i hate it when i can't read your mind," he murmurs, a little sadly. "i wish i had some way of knowing the right thing to do, all the time, whenever it comes to you."

"i think you do," you say, softly, meaning every syllable of it.

"okay…." he tilts his head to the side, thinking hard, lips jutting out into a sweet pout. "i think the right thing to do now…because you're overthinking things…"

you encourage him with a hum. "maybe we can make some tea –"

" — i think i should fuck you stupid."

a pause.

"haechan…"

"yeah i know, my idea is better."

and scooping you up into his arms, he carries you, laughing, all the way to the bedroom, and you can admit that after that things do start to get a little blurry, your mind filled with nothing but him, and him, and him.

but haechan makes you feel so loved, that you almost forget the whole world is in love with him too.

it's equal parts of annoyance and jealousy that stings at your chest when you see haechan surrounded at the back of the lecture hall, a group of girls forming a circle around him as he sits on the table, showing them something on his phone and kicking his feet restlessly like a little kid. was he giving them his number?

"it's been like this every time i've picked him up from this lecture this past two weeks," you mutter to renjun.

"ooh, i wonder how many of them he's slept with…" he muses at your side, his tone way too cheery. he had followed you as you made your way to pick haechan up from class, wanting to ask him something about the party happening that evening. "i think i recognise a few of them…"

"renjun, i hope you know that i don't trust you. at all."

"but i'm his best friend-"

"you told me to pull on his hair to shut him up and he moaned-"

"and look where you are now," he folds his arms triumphantly, a smug smile on his face. "happily celebrating your 2nd month with him."

"to think that all i asked for was advice on how to shut him up," you mumble, but you still feel a warm glow in the tips of your fingers anyway. you always do, when you're reminded of how far you've come with haechan.

a loud chorus of cooing and giggling comes from the corner of the hall, and you're sharply brought back to the present moment.

"renjun…" you hesitate, wondering if it's exactly right to be asking this. "has haechan really…um…"

"fucked a lot of girls?" renjun finishes your question. "how else do you think he gets so good at it?"

your skin feels hot. "oh."

renjun looks at you knowingly. "don't compare yourself to them, you know he doesn't do that."

"doesn't he…?" you wonder out loud. the girls surrounding haechan were in a league of their own, pretty and confident in all the ways you weren't. you had never quite been with someone like haechan before, someone so well-known on campus, and in turn knew everyone's names and faces. you wanted to believe your differences were something sweet, an opposites attract situation where you always brought the balance he needed and could feel safe in, but a part of you would always wonder about whether he would ever get tired of it.

"he hasn't talked about any other girl, past or present, since he's met you," renjun reassures, softly. "he really thinks you're the one."

you think about haechan now, and you try to imagine how it would be like with someone else — his world revolving around them, the look of adoration in his eyes. it gives you a bitter taste in your mouth with how easy it is to imagine. "has he really never thought that about anyone else before?"

renjun takes a moment to think. "if he has, he hasn't told us."

and if you were honest with yourself, you don't know if that's enough to ease your mind.

"well, i was thinking i would get this…"

a loud chorus of nos erupts all around him, and he furrows his brow, a pout forming on his lips.

"why not?"

"it's a bracelet that's meant to lock in your love," karina warns.

"so?"

"it's possessive and claiming," karina advises, and the girls around her nod in agreement. "it's like a message saying – 'you're going to be with me forever-'"

"but i am going to be with her forever…" he protests, and a wave of awws coo all around him. forlorn, he looks back down at the photo of the cartier love bracelet he has saved in an album of gifts he was thinking of buying you. he hadn't even gotten to ask the girls about which color would match your skin tone before they had collectively agreed the bracelet wasn't a good idea.

"haechan, it's 7 thousand dollars…"

"she's worth it," he mumbles, the answer coming to him like it was common sense. "i'll get a job…i can always earn it back…"

"why don't you get her something she's mentioned?" giselle suggests. "like perfume she likes, or a book, or…"

"i don't want to just get her…a book," he huffs. "i want to get her something she can wear all the time, and everytime she looks at it she'll think of me."

"really?" she presses. "or do you just want her to show everyone she's yours?"

"i mean, yeah-" he runs his hand through his hair, shaking it roughly to clear his head. "i mean, maybe? i don't know…"

another round of cooing starts up, as the girls lean in a little closer, patting him on the back or placing a comforting hand on his arm.

"i guess i've been feeling like i want her attention…maybe…" he kicks his feet in the air frustratedly.

"you should talk to her," winter suggests. "aren't you the one who's always talking about open communication?"

"i love communication," he mopes. "but when i'm with her i get scared…i get so scared of losing her i don't know what to say…"

some of the girls clutch at their hearts, others pulling him into hugs.

"thank you guys…" he says, earnestly. "i'll think about your advice…"

"ready to go?"

he jolts at your voice, back straightening and head whipping around to face you.

"hi!" he blurts out, a little flustered and giddy. "yeah, i'm ready…" he grabs a bunch of papers from beside him and shoves them into his bag haphazardly, slinging one strap over his shoulder as he plucks your laptop from your hands, carrying it for you like he always does.

"say goodbye to everyone, haechan." he thinks he catches something in your tone – you're trying to keep it light, but something sounds off.

"byebye girls-" he mumbles, obediently, hopping off the table and standing next to you. when the chorus of goodbyes echoes back, he thinks you walk just a little bit faster, making it harder for him to loop his free arm around your shoulder…

it worries him.

"you're coming to the party later right?"

you push open the door with a bit too much force, and he shouldn't be distracted, shouldn't be deterred from his mission to find you the perfect gift and figure out why you were upset, but his thoughts flood with the image of you pushing him around too — and it's like he can feel your touch, the way he imagines it, heavy and warm against his chest.

it's like he's underwater, as you reply a curt "yes" to his question, because he wants you to shove him against a wall and push him, hard, until he's breathless. you're walking, back to your apartment he presumes, eyes fixed on the road ahead and the way you're blatantly ignoring him also makes his heart hammer fast. he wonders what things he can get away with as you ignore him, wonders if you'll ever let him touch you while you're on your phone, or-

"- get ready at my place?"

what?

you've stopped walking. your hands are crossed over your chest.

"so? do you want to come?"

cum?

"yes please," he breathes. "i mean, if you want me to, but i also want you to cum…"

"come where?"

cum where? holy fuck.

"on my face" he answers, eagerly. "we haven't done that in ages —"

his face falls when it registers that the groan you let out is out of frustration, and not the sound he usually hears ringing in his ears when he curls his fingers just right.

"haechan, focus." you grip him by the shoulders, choosing to ignore the fact that giving him commands was always a surefire way to get him to lose focus. "do you want to come home with me as i get ready for the party? or do you want to go help your friends set up?"

"with you," he says, quickly.

"the party starts in 30 minutes, i don't think we'll have time to do…" you wave your hand haphazardly. "whatever you're thinking of."

"sit on my face?"

"yeah, that."

whining, he links his arm into yours as you cross the street together. "is this becoming a theme in our relationship? you telling me we don't have time and us just fucking anyway?"

"uh…"

"is it like…your kink? because it's really annoying," he fishes out the keycard to your apartment complex, clumsily tapping it against the sensor and failing to unlock the door in his frustration, shoving against it far too hard and making the glass shake. "ah, fuck–"

"i'll do it," you brush past him, taking the keycard from his hand. "calm down, please, haechan."

"it's not just about fucking," his voice is rough. "okay, well, this thing with you ignoring me, it's growing on me i'll admit. i can see us doing something with that in the future –" he's talking way too loudly about this in the lift lobby, urgency in his tone making his voice ring in the space. "but i also need to feel like you want me around, you know?"

"of course i want you around." you blink, surprised. your voice softens when you cup his face in your hands, forcing him to look at your face. "are you serious? is that what you really think?"

"i dunno…" the question 'do you just want to show everyone she's yours?' echoes around in his head, and he winces at the thought of it, possessive and needy. he tries to backtrack, mumbling out, "i don't know why i said that."

you bite your lip. something was off with him. you were both worried about things you couldn't articulate quite yet, and you knew everything would work out if you just talked about it and came up with ways to reassure each other.

and usually he was the first one to sit you down and get you talking about what was on your mind (like the time you were upset he kept staying up gaming), or communicate his own thoughts no matter how jumbled (like the time he was convinced your ex was cursing your relationship with 'bad vibes').

but today he's quiet all of a sudden, wide-eyes staring up at yours hesitantly, and it hurts.

"okay," you say, softly, letting go of his face.

"what?"

"okay," you repeat, stepping into the elevator. "when you're ready to talk about it, you can let me know." holding open the elevator doors with one hand, you're even more confused when haechan takes a step back, hands shoved deeply into his pockets as he looks up at you.

"i'll go help set up the party…" he watches your brow furrow, and hastens to add, "if that's okay?"

and even though all your instincts are telling you to coddle him, to beg him to tell you what's wrong and to kiss the pout off his face, you nod and step back into the lift.

"yeah, i'll see you later."

it's pathetic how much you miss him once the lift doors close.

when you arrive at the party, haechan is nowhere to be seen, something renjun is very angry about. you end on the balcony with jaemin, half part ensuring he doesn't do anything impulsive, and the other part…

"so you're jealous because haechan knows many beautiful, confident, and smart women who he could easily replace you with?"

jaemin was just coherent enough to give sound advice, and just tipsy enough to be very blunt about it.

"so you think it's a valid concern?" you press.

"you know what, when he gets here…" jaemin pauses, swishing the contents around in his cup contemplatively. "ask him to take you upstairs."

"to do what?"

"fuck, obviously," he looks at you, disgusted. "is this your first day dating him?"

"why would i do that?"

"just trust me on this." he takes another sip. "do you think he'll say yes?"

"of course," you roll your eyes. "is this your first day knowing him? we were just fighting about it-" you break off, realizing you said it was a fight.

"you guys had a fight?" now jaemin sits up, interested.

"not really, i mean…" was it a fight? "something slipped out about me not spending enough time with him."

"i can see that," jaemin muses, brown hair falling over his eyes as he tilts his head this way and that. "he's always liked attention."

"but he usually loves to talk things out…today he just walked away." your voice is small, missing him again as you thought about him.

jaemin smiles, knowingly. "he's just scared."

"really?"

"yeah, i remember when he first met you –" he stops abruptly. "oh, he's here."

your head snaps up as you look through the glass doors of the balcony, and sure enough, haechan had shuffled into the living room, eyes scanning the room, before disappearing behind a crowd of people.

"what did you say to him?" jaemin marvels. "he looks so defeated."

"i didn't say anything," you mumble, guilt once again crashing through you. "i'm gonna go now, okay?"

not listening out for a reply, you slide open the doors hastily, doing a quick survey of the living room to see if he was there. your heart stops when you see him standing in a corridor off the living room, leaning against the wall in the leather jacket he knew you liked. his eyes meet yours, hesitance written all over his features, but also a kind of tenderness and warmth that was so familiar.

you make your way to him, watching as he straightens, hands reaching out for you before you've even reached the corridor, and the first thing he does is envelop you in a hug. his arms wrap around you and squeeze you tight against his chest as he rests his chin on your head, cradling you in his touch as he sways slightly.

he doesn't say a word as he gently breaks the embrace to kiss you, holding your face tenderly in his hands, palms sliding around to the back of your neck as he tilts his head to deepen the kiss. his tongue slides against yours, and his fingertips tremble just a bit against your skin.

even when you break apart, he still doesn't speak just yet, eyes staring closely at yours, and you held the eye contact, feeling like he was reaching his hands into your heart as he pulls you a little closer.

"i'm sorry," he begins. "i shouldn't have walked off. i wanted to talk to you but i was afraid i would say something wrong."

"it's okay–"

"wait." he exhales. "i rehearsed this on the way here, could you forgive me a bit later?"

you feel yourself smile as you pull him into another hug, which he returns.

"now i'm just thinking about how good you smell," he mumbles into your hair, a little begrudgingly.

"it's okay if it's not rehearsed," you tell him, softly.

"but i don't want you to misunderstand," he insists. "i think recently i've been feeling like you don't really have time for me…or that i have to earn your attention…"

"haechan–"

"and it's hot sometimes," he emphasises. "but other times…"

"i'll get better at balancing things," you promise. "i miss you too, you know. when i'm always stuck at the library." he's looking at you with that starry-eyed expression again, and you wish you had just told him all of this sooner.

"is that what was bothering you?" he asks, gently.

you could just end the whole thing now, brush past the sick flutter inside your chest and tell him there was nothing else. but the thought of stepping out into the corridor and losing him to the crowd was too much to bear.

jaemin's advice flits into your head, and you grasp at it like a lifeline.

"haechan, if i asked you to go upstairs with me now, what would you say?"

"to do what?" he asks, curiosity making his eyes widen.

"you know…" feeling a little stupid, why hadn't you pressed for more information from jaemin?, you looped your fingers around his belt loops and tugged him a little closer. "so i can pay attention to you?"

"um…are you really distracted right now…?"

"to fuck, haechan."

his jaw drops and he freezes, melodramatically, for a split second.

"haechan?"

spluttering back to life, he grips onto your arms. "is everything okay?" a hand comes up and brushes your forehead, feeling for your temperature. "are you sick? do you want me to take you home?"

"haechan," exasperated, you roll your eyes and shove him a little so he backs away from you. he's still peering at you with disbelief, eyes scanning your frame, and you just know he's trying to see if your face is flushed, or if you're drunk. "stop looking at me like that," you mumble. "why are you so surprised? as if you've never fucked anyone upstairs at a party before –"

"i mean, yeah," he chokes. "but that's…that's just for fun."

"so we can't have fun?"

"no!" he screws his face up in concentration. "that's not what i mean."

"so…you don't want to take me upstairs?"

he shakes his head, firmly.

"...but you were fine with taking girls upstairs in the past?"

he exhales frustratedly, rubbing his temples, words swallowed by his pouty lips as he tries to explain. "you're… you're different to me."

"what-"

"i want everything to be perfect," he says, softly. "i can't do that in some random guy's bedroom. i want to take my time with you, and i want you to know i love you." he takes a deep breath, and his voice drops an octave when he next opens his mouth.

"i can't do that upstairs, and i've never done it with anyone else before." looking up at you through his lashes, there's a small smile on his face as his hands reach out to hold yours. "that's what you're worried about, right?"

"when did you get so eloquent?" you ask, quietly, feeling heat rise to your cheeks and light up your body with warmth.

doe eyes look at you, fascinated. "what does eloquent mean?" and then, eagerness rising in his voice, "does it mean hot? do you want me to take us home now?"

you push forward and kiss him on the lips, hands squeezing his waist and drawing a whimper from the back of his throat. working your way down to his throat, you suckle on the mole that lies just under his jaw, working your way down and drawing another choked sound from him as he realises what you're doing. he scrabbles at his shirt desperately, unbuttoning the top buttons with clumsy hands just as you finish marking his throat.

"here," he whispers, tapping at the mole on his chest, and you smile, kissing it gently. "and here –" he unbuttons his shirt a bit more, tugging at the sleeve so you can see another mole under his ribcage. "one more –"

"baby, are you going to take off all your clothes in the middle of this corridor?"

"if you kiss all of them, i will." he says, determined, hands now going to his belt buckle.

"let's just go home." when he starts to splutter in protest, hands now pulling the belt off his belt loops, you hastily take his hands in yours to stop him. "so i can see them better, okay? it's too dark here."

flushed, he nods quickly, bouncing on his toes as he does up his belt again.

"just so you can see better," he echoes, shyly.

you wake up when haechan gets back into bed.

he's washed his face and brushed his teeth, you can smell mint on his breath and freshly applied perfume when he presses a light kiss to your cheek, watching him out of your barely-open eyes. it's endlessly endearing that he cares about how he tastes and smells to you, even after months of being together.

"baby," he whispers, the familiar excitement in his tone. hands roaming your skin, he drags down the collar of your shirt with a fingertip, pressing a kiss low on your collarbone, the other rubbing indulgently over your bare stomach. "baby, are you up?"

it had been about a week since the party, and haechan and you had promised to make time for each other in the mornings, waking up a little earlier every day. sometimes you lay and talked about the day ahead, sometimes you would both agree to sleep in. and other times…

his hand slides into yours, as he presses a few more sloppy kisses to your neck, flicking his tongue against your jaw. he was extra touchy whenever he just woke, seeking your warmth under his palms and tangling his legs in yours. "baby…i need you."

lying still, you shut your eyes firmly, slowing down your breaths as if you were asleep. it's a moment before haechan gives up, placing one last kiss on your shoulder before you feel him sigh against your skin. opening your eyes just slightly, you see him lying on his back — staring at the ceiling with a pout on his face, one hand rubbing absentmindedly on your hip.

a week ago it would have been too soon, but now's the perfect time to try it as you slide your hand over to his shorts, feeling the silky smooth skin of his upper thighs as you lightly drag the fabric up.

his breath hitches. "y/n?"

keeping your eyes shut and your head turned towards the sheets, you ghost your hand over the front of his shorts, the fabric stretched around his length. tracing over the outline of his cock, you squeeze him lightly, drawing an achy moan.

"baby…" his voice is hesitant. "what are you doing?"

you resist the urge to respond, his voice and his heavy breathing the only sounds in the room, amplified in the cold morning. you hear him take another shaky breath when you slide your hand under his waistband, skin hot to touch, and grip the base of his hard cock, feeling it twitch slightly under your touch. his legs slide restlessly against the sheets, hips shifting, trying to get you to move your hand.

"y/n?" he tries again, before letting out a hiss as your fingers move up to his dripping tip, rubbing at his slit gently. "fuck, okay," he pants, cutting himself off with a shaky moan as you pump his thick length with your fist, fingers barely forming a complete ring. he was leaking so much precum, more than you've ever felt before, cock throbbing and twitching heavily against your palm, making you press your thighs tightly together, trying to focus. his hips buck up into your hand sporadically as he loses control of his movements, and you indulge him by keeping a steady grip, letting him fuck your fist.

you hear a familiar choke, and you open your eyes wider by just a sliver, to see tears running down his cheeks, the tip of his nose red. his mouth hangs open, lips wet with saliva and tears, drooling slightly from the corners of his mouth. he's been moving his head this way and that on his pillow, his hair mussed up and falling over his eyes, a complete wreck from you fulfilling his fantasy.

slowly, you open your eyes as you release him, bringing your slick covered hand up to his face and wiping his tears and drool away as best you could. his head snaps in your direction, panting heavily and eyes half-lidded with lust, searching for yours.

"please don't stop," he begs. "please, i wanna cum��"

you close your eyes, hand falling to the sheets next to you as you pretend to settle in again, pulling the thin blanket over you. the only sound in the room is haechan's small, achy voice, whimpering "please, please, please" over and over again, punctuated by sniffles.

and then, you feel your covers being lifted, heavy hands landing on your waist.

"let's see if you can ignore me through this, angel." haechan's voice is dark, as he tugs down your shorts and panties with an urgency and desperation you know well. you feel the sting of cold air as your thighs, wet with slick, are held open by his arms, a groan rumbling low from his throat as he takes in the sight of your wet core. "look at me," he demands, making his tongue lie flat and wide as he licks up the arousal leaking onto your thighs and the outside of your core.

with your eyes closed, each press of his tongue on your skin is magnified by the thousands. you've never felt so sensitive, and you swear you could cum just from the way he kitten licks at your clit, breathing heavily against your sopping heat. but you couldn't look.

"stubborn baby," he mouths against your folds, tongue dipping into your hole and letting out a satisfied hum at the taste. "you look so pretty, pressed up to my face like this," he praises, one hand releasing your thigh and sliding a finger into you. "you're so tight..." he slides his finger in deeper, pressing against your spongy walls. smiling, he presses his tongue onto your clit, applying a pressure that made you clench even harder around him. "always so tight for me, i don't fuck you enough, hm? squeezing around my tip –" he strokes your walls with the tip of his finger, feeling you pulse. "just like that," he mumbles.

haechan rarely talked so much while he was eating you out, but now he just couldn't seem to stop, loving the way his voice filled the room, covering your little choked whimpers and moans that you tried to bite back.

"could play with you for hours," he groans, adding another finger. "you look so cute stretched out over my fingers." he curls his fingers towards the front of your walls, brushing past a spot that makes your hips jerk up, and a moan slip past your lips. "you like that?"

but then he's withdrawing his fingers entirely, smearing your arousal messily around your folds before circling up to your clit, fingers slipping as he rubs the sensitive nub. "you're dripping," he breathes, dipping back to your entrance, laughing cruelly when he feels your hole clench around nothing. "when you wake up…" he says, sarcastically, and the tone makes your stomach twist. where did he learn all this? "you can beg me to fill you up. are you having a nice dream, baby?"

you feel him sink down to the bed again, his hair tickling your inner thighs as his mouth attaches to your core, messily frenching your folds. "so swollen," he mumbles, now circling your clit and flicking it lightly with the tip of his tongue, a stinging pressure. "i wish i knew what you needed, sweetheart," his voice is sad, and you just know that if you opened your eyes you would see his own, blinking back at yours innocently. "do you need me here?" he presses your clit the way he knew you craved, mimicking a vibrating motion with his wrist. "or here?" three fingers shove deep into your cunt, and your back arches. "both? or…" you feel him rise, hands guiding your knees to your chest, and you finally, finally open your eyes.

the sunrise is beautiful against his golden skin, stinging at your eyes as you blink back tears fogging your vision. his face is tear-streaked, hair still a mess, your eyes tracing the light illuminating the moles on his neck, his chest, his torso, his thighs. he lines himself up to your entrance, kissing the side of your knee lovingly.

"good morning, baby," he smiles, eyes crinkling. "i'm going to fuck you now."

"haechan-" your voice is hoarse from lack of use. "do you want to try it from the back?"

there's a pause.

"fuck yes," he groans, his hands moving you effortlessly, helping you get on all fours. you arch your back, pressing your face against the sheets as you wiggle your hips in the air, hearing a moan rise from his throat as he fists his length urgently.

"hurry up," you whine.

"hurry up…" he mocks, giggling as he runs his hands down your spine. "you're so spoiled, princess." his hands grasp at your hips, and you feel something heavy push between your legs, his tip pushing into you, the initial stretch making you tense.

"fuck…ah–" he bottoms out, feeling your walls pulse around him, holding still so you can adjust. "you're so tight like this, fuck." when you let out another whimper, he starts to pull out, body stiffening. "are you okay? can i –"

"please move," you whimper, hips jolting as you start fucking yourself on his length, need surging through your body. his hips snap against yours, wet sounds filling the room as skin meets skin. his hand comes around to touch your clit, rubbing it harshly, and you cum instantly, stars blotting your vision as your knees go weak.

"just a bit more, baby," he whimpers, speeding up to chase his high. "you want me to fill you up? fuck you so full of my cum you can't ignore it?" pulling you up, he grasps at your breasts, kneading the soft mounds in his hands and pinching at a hard nipple. the moan you let out pushes him over the edge as he cums, hard, warmth shooting into you and coating your walls as you milk him dry, sensitivity making you clench around him again.

"i love you," he whispers, kissing you sweetly on the nape of your neck before pulling out, wincing at the feeling. you lie back on the sheets, winded, as he gets a towel from the bedside cabinet and wipes your thighs dry, purposefully pushing some of the cum leaking out of your entrance back in with a gentle finger, your thighs shaking at the feeling. you make grabby hands at him and he smiles, putting down the towel before all but jumping into your arms, kissing you again on the neck and nuzzling against your shoulder.

"so?" he raises his eyebrows.

"so what?"

"it's hot, right?" he gushes, eyes sparkling. "the ignoring thing? fuck, when i kept calling for you and you closed your eyes…" he sighs. "you're my dream girl," he says, sincerely. "do you know that?"

"i'm your dream girl because i ignore you?"

"we should only do this once in a while…" he's lost in his own world, brows furrowing as he chews on his cheek in thought. "i miss hearing your pretty sounds…"

"or maybe you could ignore me," you suggest, sleepiness taking over your body again as you curl up closer to him.

"you really are my dream girl," he marvels, planting a light kiss on your forehead as you drift off, safe in his arms.

"we have a problem."

"the problem we have," you correct him, as he locks the bathroom door behind you. "is we should stop coming to these parties."

"he keeps looking at you," haechan huffs, his eyes trained on your body. "and i get it, because i look at you and i want you now but –" frustrated, he tugs a little at the hem of your dress, which was currently riding high on your thighs as you sat on the bathroom sink. "but you're mine."

"be honest, do you wish you bought me that $7000 bracelet now?" you tease.

at haechan's encouragement, you had started to befriend karina and her friends, finding their confidence and enthusiasm infectious and endearingly reminiscent of your boyfriend. they had told you that he spent weeks meeting them after lectures, asking for advice on the littlest things – like how to be there for you on your period, how to help you pick out an outfit, and how to choose gifts.

"very much so," he groans, and you pull him towards you, giving him a kiss. it's when he's kissing down your neck, your breaths becoming shallow, hands pawing absentmindedly at his chest, when he suddenly freezes, an idea forming in his mind.

"do you think i can spell my name on your neck in hickeys?" tracing the letters with his fingertips, he furrows his brow, mumbling to himself. "maybe just the initials? or one letter. or a symbol…"

"you're so stupid-" you cut yourself off, slotting your lips with his again. when you break apart, there's a softness in his eyes, his tone low and hesitant.

"you like it…" he runs his tongue over his lower lip, hands fiddling with the hem of his shirt. "right?"

"haechan…" you wrap your arms around him, feeling him relax into your hold. "i love you," you say, softly, in his ear. you feel him smile against your neck, murmuring back a soft i love you too, the fact that he never let it go unanswered making you feel giddy and lovestruck all over again.

"i know what to do," he beams, pushing you gently against the wall and letting his body cage you in — and when he starts sucking a mark onto your skin, you have a vague idea of what it's going to be.

when you rejoin the party, the music is still blasting loud as if you've never left, the energy feeds into haechan's enthusiasm as he taps, or rather, hits the shoulder of the first person he sees coming out of the bathroom, who happens to be jaemin.

"JAEMIN."

"shut the fuck- oh." jaemin turns, raising his eyebrows when he sees the two of you. "going home?"

"just bear with it," you mumble, feeling your cheeks heat up as haechan puffs his chest out proudly, clearing his throat to speak. "he's doing a thing."

"she's mine," he crows, proudly. tracing one of the marks on your neck, he beams up at jaemin with starry eyes. "i did this to her."

"cool." the boy flashes him a thumbs up, which haechan returns enthusiastically. voice dropping low, jaemin leans in. "is he going to repeat this to everyone you bump into on the way out?"

you see haechan waving at renjun, signaling that you were about to be tugged over. "i think so."

jaemin nods slowly, lips stretching into a smile. "you're a lucky girl, y/n."

you catch sight of yourself in the mirror. you take in the glow of your skin, the hickeys scattered across your neck and collarbones, your styled hair completely messed up around your face. you take in the arms around your waist, the man next to you peeking at you from the corner of his eye as if he couldn't believe you were there pressed against him, his own hair tousled and wild.

and you feel yourself smile.

bonus:

"mark, i think i've found the one."

"and i told you, she's with someone–"

"leave it." jaemin murmurs. "he's haechan. she'll probably leave whoever she's with because of him."

"haechan," but mark's voice is insistent on pinning him to reality as he puts both hands on haechan's cheeks, forcing his head to turn so he's looking him in the eyes. "if you're not serious about it…"

"but i am." haechan is a little breathless as he sways on the spot, eyes finally focused on mark's. "i really want to talk to her…"

"that's not-"

"but i don't want to mess up." swallowing, haechan runs his hand through his hair. "what if i say the wrong thing, what if she thinks i'm stupid." his eyes search the crowd for you again, before settling back on mark's round ones. "mark…" his voice is soft, and just a little bit scared.

"what if she doesn't like me?"

mark's hands fall away as he takes in the little bit of wild sincerity in haechan's eyes, and the hesitance he hadn't quite seen before.

it takes a lot of encouragement, to finally persuade haechan to meander his way over into the corridor he's sure you haven't stepped out of. even then, his steps are unsure and faltering, panicked eyes finding mark and jaemin's in the crowd seeking reassurance, and mark thinks when he finally meets you he isn't going to make the best first impression at all.

haechan was someone who dove into things, who felt emotions as hard as he possibly could, running headfirst into everything in life without knowledge or fear of consequence.

maybe there was some credit to his the one theory, mark thinks, because you were the one thing haechan couldn't even start to walk towards for fear of losing in the crowd.

mark had a good feeling about this — something told him that it would all work out eventually.

taglist: @luafvr @liliansun @hotmessexpress35 @ery-noice @tddyhyck @xenkimmie @ofjunemoment @neochan @acidwon @babyjenono @kittydollzz @smwhrinthehaze

#haechan smut #fic: himbo haechan #donghyuck smut #nct dream smut #haechan fluff #haechan angst #haechan x reader #haechan au #nct smut #nct fluff

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vscabarca · 2 months

Note

can u do where the reader is a nursing student and has to do a test and makes gavi their “patient” since he’s injured. I can see it being so funny and gavi throwing a small tantrum. Etc Ty 🤗

nursing student - pablo gavi

summary: you’re a nursing student and gavi is your "patient" to practice on.

genre: fluff

a/n: i absolutely have no idea about anything medically related, so everything here is made up🤣 and thank you for the request! i‘ve actually got two requests like that in my inbox so i combined them:)

———

„Do I really have to do this?“ Gavi whined, already being splattered across your bed, accepting his fate as your test subject.

You were an ambitious nursing student, currently studying for your final exams of this semester. You were specialized in sports medicine because of the internship you were doing at FC Barcelona. That‘s also how you met your boyfriend Gavi. You were the one taping up his ear as he injured himself against Osasuna.

„I just need someone to practice on, but I can also practice on Fermín if you want.“ You teased, knowing Gavi would become jealous quite quickly. As you predicted, he swiftly turned his head, giving you an annoyed glare.

„That was not funny.“ Gavi said, placing his hands behind his head, watching you as you prepared everything for your examination.

„Baby I was joking. I wish you were the test person during the exam.“ You chuckled and walked over to him, giving him a kiss for reassurance. He shyly smiled when you broke apart, feeling better after you gave him a small ego boost.

You put on your gloves and walked over to the side Gavi was laying at.

„Okay just tell me if I hurt your knee during the examination.“ You said. Gavi was still recovering from his ACL injury, so you were more careful than usual.

He nodded, then sat up to remove his shirt for your general body check-up.

Your eyes swiftly glanced over his toned body and you felt your temperature rise. After all it was difficult to concentrate when your handsome boyfriend laid there only with shorts on. To that, you knew he was going to tease you for becoming shy.

„Are you nervous?“ Gavi’s voice lingered in suspicion, his eyebrows were crooked. You rolled your eyes but he was right, you were a bit nervous.

You first checked his heart and lungs with the stethoscope and as soon you pressed it onto his chest, Gavi whined again.

„Amor it’s cold!“ He twisted around the bed, making you let out a chuckle.

„C‘mon it’s not that bad. You’ve done this a thousand times during medicals, do you complain there too?“ You scolded with a laugh and continued to listen to his heartbeat.

He gave you a side eye, pouting slightly at your words. You kissed his pout away a second time and looked for a flashlight to check his eyes. (a/n: i hope you know what I mean lol)

„Do you kiss all your patients?“

„Only the hot ones.“ You returned with a grin, to which Gavi let out a smile.

„Alright let’s check your flexibility.“ You said, trying to distract yourself from the teasing. After all you had to practice, there was no time to swoon over your man.

After checking his knees, being extra careful with his right one, you moved over to looking at the anatomy of the human body. This was also a big part of your exam, so it was the perfect time to look at an athlete‘s body.

„Okay so this here is the biceps brachii muscle.“ Your hand softly traced over his arm until you reached his shoulder. „…and this here is the trapezius muscle…“ you were in your own world, your gaze shifting from the textbook over to Gavi‘s body several times to see if you were right. Gavi smiled softly. He first wanted to tease you again about something, but as he saw you so concentrated, so focused on studying the right thing, he let it be and just admired you.

Gavi was proud to see you studying medicine. You were so smart, always giving him a massage or taping him up if something was nagging him after practice.

„Although I don’t like being your test subject and would rather cuddle with you, I can’t stop being so proud of you.“ You looked up, your cheeks red once again after hearing his words. A shy smile spread across your face as his compliments still made you nervous.

You stood on your tiptoes, textbook and anatomy long forgotten and grabbed his neck to bring him closer. His lips soon found yours and you both got lost in the sweet feeling of each other. Gavi brought you in a hug, quietly whispering into your ear.

„Can we cuddle now?“

#gavi x reader #pablo gavi x reader #pablo gavi #gavi #football x reader #gavi one shot #pedri x reader #barça #football one shot #fc barcelona

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lazycats-stuff · 4 months

Note

(Kind of self projecting sorry lol) SO! BabyBat has an upset stomach but Bruce's too anxious about giving him medicine because can his baby stomach handle those chemicals? Insert Alfred rolling up his sleeves "give him here master Bruce" a tired Bruce just hands him over without question and watches as alfred and baby head to the kitchen and suddenly...baby stopped crying? Bruce walks into the kitchen seeing flower stems on the counter and Alfred standing there with a sleeping baby "...How?" "Rosewater master Bruce, i made and fed him Rosewater" Not sure how to end this but basically BabyBat would only drink Rosewater from now on and Bruce has to upgrade his gardening game ,Alfred always has already-made Rosewater so his Grandson is always hydrated and the rest of batbros are just like "hell yeah my brother's too fancy for regular water" I hope you except my request and thank u! I love u

Oh no, I hope you are doing better now. Either way, this is an Alfred thing to do. Thank you for the love too.❤️

Summary: Alfred knows what to do.

Warnings: Alfred knows what to do, Bruce is tired, boys love their brother, but they want peace, fluff all in all.

Taking care of a baby is difficult, even for Alfred. Bruce and him had joined forces for (Y/N). The boys have also agreed to help whenever they could. It was exhausting to take care of a little baby. Bruce and Alfred were sleep deprived at this point and the boys took care of their little brother while the two recovered slightly.

It felt nice to have a presence of a baby here, despite the chaos that a baby brings. (Y/N) was an easy baby as long there was a routine for him. Feed him on time, change his diaper regularly, put him down for a nap on time...

All of the basics essentially.

Oh, not to forget, (Y/N) was often held in someone's arms. Whether it be Damian's, Dick's, Jason's or Tim's, (Y/N) was happy to be in their arms. Bruce was (Y/N)'s favorite none the less. Who wouldn't love being held by their father?

But, it seems that (Y/N) had medical problems. Bruce took him to the pediatrician to see what's going on. It seems that it was (Y/N)'s stomach and Bruce got some medication for it, but he was worried. Bruce believed in medicine, don't get me wrong, but... Will (Y/N)'s poor tummy will be able to handle it?

Bruce has tried everything he could to soothe his son, his anxiety preventing him from giving him the meds. How can he know that the chemicals won't make it worst? Again, he believes in modern medicine, but his baby is...

He doesn't want to hurt his son more. Alfred and everyone else tried to help, but (Y/N) was just in too much pain to even think about calming down for a single second. Jason was sure that (Y/N)'s voice will be lost in a few more hours and Damian wanted to die.

Dick and Tim tried, but nothing worked. At all. Nothing. Tim was exhausted and Dick was going to snap soon. Very much soon. Damian and Titus were out of the manor for these couple of hours and Jason went to the Batcave.

Alfred, all of a sudden got an idea. Going to the garden, he got some roses and has decided to make some rosewater for (Y/N). He cleaned the flowers in the kitchen and then put the in a pot before submerging the petals underneath the water. He put it on low heat and let it simmer for now. He put a lid over it and sighed as he heard (Y/N) crying.

He waited and checked on the petals and smiled when he saw that the petals lost color. He turned the heat off and moved the pot away, allowing it to cool down completely. (Y/N) can't drink hot water. And it would be a nice alternative to the medicine that Bruce is so anxious about giving to (Y/N). The worry is understandable, babies are more fragile than toddlers and older kids so giving them harsh medicine is not a good idea.

Alfred turned on the radio and removed the lid from the pot. He could hear Bruce's voice trying to shush his son, but (Y/N) was still crying from the pain. Alfred waited patiently as he poured himself some whiskey.

Did he love his grandson more than life? Yes, but sometimes, alcohol was important to soothe the headache the crying might have caused. He slowly sipped his whiskey as he waited for the water to cool down. Jason and Damian came down to eat something and Alfred pointed at the leftovers in the fridge.

" What's in the pot Alfred? " Damian asked as the took a container of food to heat it up.

" You'll see soon. I'm just waiting for it to cool down. "

" Is it for (Y/N)? " Jason asked as he looked at the food in the fridge. " Please tell me it's for him.

" It is. " Alfred said and took another sip of his whiskey. Damian and Jason sighed in relief.

" Thank God. " Damian said as he started heating up his food. Jason smiled as he waited for his turn.

" What's in the pot though? " Jason asked as he peered over to look at the pot.

" Some rose water. It's great for the stomach. " Alfred explained and Jason nodded as he looked down to look at the water more intently.

" Since when do we have roses in the garden? " Jason asked as he started heating his own food up and Damian sat down and started eating his food.

" Since forever master Jason. " Alfred said as he finished his whiskey.

Jason nodded and took his food out of the microwave and started eating.

After 20 minutes, the water has cooled down and Jason and Damian have left the kitchen. Alfred rolled up his sleeves and went to the living room, with Bruce still soothing his son. Bruce was tired and Alfred was sure that Bruce's ears were going to start bleeding in a few minutes.

" Hand him over master Bruce. " Alfred said and Bruce gladly gave (Y/N) to Alfred and he just closed his eyes and relaxed, the sound of (Y/N) crying moving further away from him. He kept them closed until there was silence.

Why was there silence?

Bruce opened his eyes and went into the kitchen where he found Alfred, with a sleeping (Y/N) in his arms. How the hell was (Y/N) sleeping?

" Alfred? What did you do? " Bruce asked as he looked around. Why were on the counter stems... Were those rose stems? Alfred chuckled at the confusion that Bruce was exhibiting.

" Rosewater master Bruce. " Alfred said, giving him a very short answer.

Bruce was still confused and Alfred chuckled once more. " I fed him some rosewater. " Alfred explained and Bruce nodded. Whatever it was, it helped (Y/N) out and Bruce wasn't going to question it at all.

" Huh. Thank God for the rosewater I guess. "

" Yes, it's a more natural remedy. I know you were anxious about giving the medicine to master (Y/N), so I remembered this recipe. "

" Alfred, did I ever tell you that you are the most important member of the family? " Bruce asked as he walked closer to his beloved son, caressing his little cheek.

" All the time master Bruce. "

" Good. " Bruce said as he leaned down to kiss (Y/N)'s head and the little boy slowly reached for his father. Bruce took him into his arms and allowed him to rest in his arms.

Dick and Tim popped their hands in happy and relieved that their brother was not in pain anymore. And that he wasn't ruining their hearing anymore.

" Is he okay? " Tim asked quietly and Alfred nodded. Dick sighed in relief and put a hand over his heart.

" Thank God. It's nice to have a silent manor for once. " Dick joked and everyone chuckled. That much was true.

" Well, it's great that our brother is not in pain anymore. " Tim said and walked closer to his baby brother, just observing him.

" Thank you Alfred. " Dick said and Alfre laughed. Bruce rolled his eyes with a fond smile.

After the discovery of rose water, (Y/N) refused to drink anything else. Thankfully, Alfred started feeding him some solid foods so he wasn't going to be hungry. But it was funny the first time (Y/N) refused to drink anything that wasn't rosewater.

Bruce was confused, but Alfred already had batches of water prepared for his grandson. (Y/N) needs to be hydrated. Bruce sighed as he drank his coffee, looking at the garden outside. He needed to call a gardener to plant more roses in the garden...

He glanced back at his son who was happily drinking his water, with Alfred holding the bottle.

The four older brothers walked in for breakfast and they all laughed.

" (Y/N) is so fancy. " Tim said laughing as he made his way to the coffee pot and the cereal cabinet.

" More than you B. " Dick joked and Bruce rolled his eyes with a smile.

" Yes, (Y/N) is a true Wayne. All Waynes are fancy in their own right. " Damian confirmed and Bruce just kept smiling at the banter that was going on here.

" You do know that you have up your gardening skills, right old man? " Jason teased and laughed behind his coffee mug. (Y/N) really did bring everyone together.

" I'll call the gardener the moment I'm in office. " Bruce declared and everyone nodded and started eating in peace. This is a very nice and calm morning for their standards.

" Is it just me or (Y/N) brought us all together? " Jason asked and everyone paused for a moment.

" You are right. " Dick said first and everyone followed with either nods or soft murmurs of agreement.

Jason walked up to Alfred and (Y/N) who finished his bottle of rosewater and picked his brother up in his arms. " My little brother is so fancy. " Jason said as he rocked his little brother, who in turn was shrieking with laughter.

Everyone smiled even more. This morning is really nice. And (Y/N) is a glue that keeps this family close and together.

#dc comics #dc x male reader #x male reader #batfamily #bruce wayne x male reader #batman x male reader #jason todd x male reader #red hood x male reader #tim drake x male reader #red robin x male reader #dick grayson x male reader #nightwing x male reader #damian wayne x male reader #robin x male reader

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kiss-me-cill-me · 4 months

Note

could u write a cill character where the reader is super horny w/ baby fever, a breeding type fic ❤️?? I love your works btw!!

Oh anon, I love you for requesting this ❤️ Partly because I had already planned to write it lmao. And thank you so much!! Sending love right back at ya 🥰

Due Date

Pairing: Neil Lewis x Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: Your boyfriend is totally oblivious to your baby fever, but lucky for both of you, you aren't able to keep it bottled up for too long.

Warnings: Smut, breeding kink, floor sex, stomach pressing (?? idk how to even phrase this lol), mentions of reader being on birth control, some fluff, established boyfriend/girlfriend relationship

***Please read the warnings before continuing. Minors DNI***

There had been only one thing on your mind for weeks now, and you could not figure out for the life of you how to get rid of the thoughts. You wondered if you would ever feel normal again, or if this was just going to be your new default state forever. The idea of that was maddening.

Neil, on the other hand, seemed to be somehow blissfully unaware about just how badly you felt like you might explode every time Marcia and Buddy came around with their new baby.

You weren’t sure how that was possible, given that you practically sprinted over to the stroller every time they wrangled it into the store. How could he not have known, when you squealed for the hundredth time, every time, at seeing that chubby little baby face? Marcia had practically needed to wrestle her own child away from you the last time they’d paid a visit, and yet Neil seemed totally unaware of how badly you wanted one of your own.

Or maybe he just hoped that if he ignored it, your baby fever would go away. Your boyfriend had never exactly been one to take on responsibilities willingly, unless doing so somehow involved Gumshoe. The store was his baby, as he often joked, and you were starting to worry that that meant he would never have room in his heart for real babies. The kind that would giggle at Neil’s silly antics and look up at you with their big blue eyes, just like his, and-

You snapped back to reality. You had been daydreaming again, and you found yourself standing behind the counter with Neil, your finger stuck into the spool of a VHS tape as you worked at rewinding a stack of them together.

“You okay, babe?” he asked, sparing a glance in your direction.

You’d paused in your mindless task, lost in fantasy, and now you tried to shake off the fog that had crept over you, bringing with it the images of cribs and onesies and bouncing bundles that always seemed to end up in Neil’s arms.

“Uh…”

He would make such a good dad. A fun dad; the kind that would take his kids on adventures themed after all of their favorite movies. Lightsaber battles in the kitchen. Quests for treasure in the backyard that would make Indiana Jones quake in his boots. Neil would have just as much fun as your future children - you were sure of it. And that thought was almost enough to make you jump him right there in the store. It was pure torture, living like this, and for days on end.

“Helloooooo?” Neil droned.

You looked over at him with wide eyes as he caught you indulging in your secret fantasies yet again.

“You… good?” he asked again, slightly concerned this time.

“I am; I’m… just a little distracted,” you said, hurrying to get back to rewinding the tape.

Neil stuffed the cassette he was holding back in its box, giving you a smug look.

“Yeah, I do have that effect on you, don’t I?” he teased.

You shoved him, and he nudged you back with an elbow.

“In your dreams,” you laughed.

Privately, you could feel yourself starting to ache at just his words. He had no clue how true they were, and you certainly weren’t about to tell him. Now really wasn’t the time for a baby; your logical side knew that. And as much as a part of you wanted to tell him, you knew that it wouldn’t make any real difference. You would just have to be patient and wait.

“Thanks for helping out tonight, by the way,” Neil continued, slipping back into the easy routine of rewinding tapes. “I hate doing this.”

“I know; me too,” you agreed. “Which is why I expect to be paid overtime.”

Neil looked at you, side-eyed.

“Do you even work here?” he joked.

“Not for long if I don’t start getting paid.”

“Okay, fine,” Neil sighed. “The usual rate?”

You giggled as he put his tape down and pinned you against the edge of the counter, pressing your bodies together as he kissed you. A series of quick, fleeting pecks; your hourly wage for helping him out.

“Hey! Overtime,” you reminded him, grabbing at the hem of his shirt as he started to pull away.

Neil leaned back over and gave you one more kiss, catching your bottom lip with his teeth.

Just then, the bell at the top of the door rang, letting you know that a customer had arrived. Neil stood up straight, clearing his throat in a very professional manner as he backed up a little. Even with distance between you, you still felt your whole body thrum. The heat on your cheeks seemed to burst as the lone customer wandered the store, browsing the aisles as you and Neil stood side by side and rewound more tapes.

“All set?” Neil chirped up as the man approached the counter.

Neil went through the routine of checking out the tape, finally handing it over along with a receipt. He glanced down at the date that was printed on the slip.

“And you’re all set. Due date is… August fifteenth.”

Behind him, you made a small noise in your throat. Neil looked over at you, just for a moment, before he turned back to the customer and finished wrapping up the transaction. When the man had left, Neil turned more fully to face you.

“You’re acting weird, babe,” he said bluntly, scratching the back of his head. “Is there something going on?”

“Nope, never better!”

You cursed yourself silently. Why had something so stupidly simple as Neil saying the words “due date” lodged itself firmly into your brain as yet another excuse to obsess over babies?

“If you need to go home, that’s okay,” Neil offered. “I can wrap things up here by myself.”

“I’m fine,” you insisted. “It’s just…”

“Just…?” Neil echoed, leaning toward you.

“Hearing you talk about… due dates,” you sighed, finally admitting defeat.

Neil’s look of utter and genuine confusion would have made you laugh out loud, if not for the fact that you felt compelled to burrow down into the floor.

“Should I not… tell the customers when to return tapes?”

“No, you dummy!” You avoided his eyes as you shuffled uncomfortably. “I just mean that- It just makes me think about babies!”

You could see the gears turning in Neil’s head a few seconds after you’d blurted out your confession, slowly reaching a conclusion before his eyes widened.

“Ohhhh. That’s why you’ve been so interested in hanging out with Marcia,” he laughed.

“Yes! Neil - okay?” you cried, thoroughly embarrassed. “I’ve been thinking about it for weeks, and I just- Ugh!”

You threw your hands up as you abandoned all attempts at explaining yourself. Neil was already throwing you glances, as if he had caught you in the middle of something scandalous, instead of just struggling to suppress baby fever.

In a way, though, he had. Your thoughts really weren’t all so pure as just picturing him with your kids at the park. Babies didn’t just drop down out of the sky, after all.

Neil took a small step toward you, making you shrink back as he pressed his forehead to yours.

“You like the thought of me knocking you up?” he hummed.

The shock of him saying it so bluntly made you shrink into yourself a bit more. Neil wasn’t letting you go anywhere, though, as he placed his arms to either side of your hips, leaning against the counter.

“Maybe I just think you’d be a good dad,” you shot back, slightly too shakily to be believable.

“Mmm, I don’t think that that’s all you’ve been thinking.” Neil took another step forward, closing up even the most fleeting idea of any distance between you. “I think you like to imagine me filling you up until there’s no way that you couldn’t be pregnant.”

You could hardly believe the words coming out of your boyfriend’s mouth. This was certainly not how you had imagined any potential conversation going.

“And… what if I do?” you asked.

Neil shrugged, not nearly as nonchalant as he was trying to be.

“You tell me,” he said, lowly. “Do you want me to?”

“Want you to…?”

Before you could finish your sentence, Neil’s lips were on yours again, kissing you with a renewed hunger that seemed to extend to some deeper level. Before, things had been teasing and light, like they usually were between you. Now, they felt almost serious. Your head spun as you felt yourself give in to the kiss, letting your wildest fantasies surround you as you stood there, knees buckling at the strong ache that ran through your legs. You had to hold onto Neil slightly as he pulled away.

“I know we’re not ready for kids yet,” you started, not very convincingly.

Neil was making it too hard to focus, as his lips trailed over the side of your face, pressing kisses into your jaw, your cheek, your temple. You hadn’t expected this reaction from him, and you were scrambling to figure out how to respond.

“So?” Neil laughed. “That doesn’t mean we can’t practice, right? There’s really no harm in that.”

“I… guess not,” you agreed.

Neil pressed a kiss to your forehead before leaning down to bite at your ear. You moaned - just a small sound you couldn’t hold back - and felt warm desire pool deep in your stomach as Neil whispered into your ear.

“I think you’d look cute, you know.”

He pulled back to brush a thumb over the very lowest part of your stomach, and the implication was obvious. “Do you?” you sighed, dreamily.

Neil pressed his body back up against you, and this time you could feel his hard length, digging into your hip. Your hands wrapped around his waist, holding him there as he answered.

“Mm-hmm. Seeing you pregnant would really just be a reminder of what I had done to get you like that, sooo… I think it’d be pretty hot.”

You wondered if Neil had any idea just how dangerous of a game he was playing. You knew he was only pretending. He and you both knew that you were on birth control. But… it would be so easy for things like that to change.

“You really need to start watching your mouth, Neil,” you warned him.

“I think I need to start watching you live out your little fantasies, babe.”

Neil’s next kiss was so passionate that he nearly bent you back over the checkout counter. His teeth caught your already-swollen lip once again as he snuck a hand under your thigh, pulling it up to hook over his waist.

“Neil! Can’t this wait til we get home?” you laughed, a sharp heat coursing throughout your whole body.

“Can you wait?” he countered.

That wasn’t really a fair argument. You very clearly could not, at least not based on the way you felt yourself clench around nothing more than the thought of Neil filling you up, just like he’d said earlier. You groaned as he kissed you again, sealing your fate.

“Okay, just - let me at least lock the door,” you begged.

Neil pulled away with a soft smile, and you could see just how incredibly hard he was through the outline of his jeans.

“Hurry back, baby. Or I’ll have to come over there and get you.”

You practically ran to the front of the store, flipping the sign hastily over to “closed” before locking the door and drawing the blinds over all of the windows. It was already dark out, and you caught a quick glimpse of your wide smile in the reflection of the plate glass. This wasn’t the first time that Gumshoe had closed early for some less-than-legitimate purposes.

Suddenly, something crashed into your back. From behind, you felt Neil’s arms encircle your waist as he pulled you away from the window.

“Sorry, babe - couldn’t wait.”

His voice was close, burrowing into your ear as it nestled right next to the thoughts that continued to swirl in your head. You felt a rush down your spine at his words.

Neil backed up a few more steps as he spun around, keeping you pinned to his chest, and then slammed directly into the shelves, spilling VHS tapes everywhere.

“Look who’s the overeager one now,” you laughed, arching back slightly as Neil’s hand grabbed roughly at your breast.

“Who said I wasn’t?”

Neil guided you down to the floor, flipping you over to face him as you landed among the catastrophe of VHS tapes. You shoved a few out of the way, making enough room to lie down while Neil hovered over you, busy with ripping off his shirt.

“Is this really how you treat the mother of your future children?” you joked.

“No,” Neil replied, looking down at you as he tore off his belt. “This is how I treat the girl who wants me to fuck my cum into her so badly, she can’t even focus on rewinding tapes.”

Neil shoved his pants down while you were still too shocked to speak, and then went to work on your clothes, nearly wrestling you out of them as he grunted above you. Neil sometimes got rough when he was excited, but you hadn’t ever seen him like this. Clearly, you weren’t the only one who liked the idea of him getting you pregnant.

Naked and lying on the floor of your boyfriend’s video rental store, you felt yourself practically drip onto the carpet.

“Neil, are you really gonna…?”

“Cum in you?” he finished. “Course I am. How else are you gonna get knocked up?”

Your face flushed. The line between real intentions and fantasy ones was already so dangerously thin, and you felt yourself grow even more excited at the idea of not knowing how serious he was. The two of you had always been cautious. Neil always pulled out of you, even knowing that you were on birth control. It wasn’t like anything would actually happen if he chose not to, but…

“Need you to take me nice and deep - okay, baby?”

Neil’s words snapped you back to reality again as you felt him line up. Your hips were hovering just off the floor, and the anticipation was killing you. You needed him inside of you, now.

“Okay,” you agreed breathlessly.

“Good girl.”

Neil sat up straight as he pushed in, and you felt yourself clamp down so hard that it was almost a miracle he was able to get anywhere. But he did, and you could feel every inch of him sink into you as he buried himself all the way, deep inside just like he’d promised.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he hissed. “But you’re not gonna be after I’m done with you. Fuck.”

You watched Neil groan as he squeezed his eyes shut and pumped once, almost cautiously. You could feel the drag of his cock as he pulled out, and you savored the slow thrust. You knew that this pace wouldn’t last long once he got started.

Neil’s hand drifted back down to your stomach, pressing softly as he pushed into you again.

“You feel that, babe?”

The sensation made you gasp. The slight pressure from Neil's hand made the fat head of his cock seem to nudge inside of you even more deeply; the feeling intense but addicting. Neil kept the flat palm of his hand pressed against you as he dragged out, then pushed back in, a little more roughly this tine. It was almost enough to send you right over the edge, and your hips inched up to increase the pressure.

“Fuck - you like that,” Neil commented, breathlessly. “Like feeling right where I’m gonna cum, don’t you?” “N-Neil! Fuck!” you gasped, unable to string more than two words together.

It was absurd how quickly he’d brought you right to the point of no return. You could feel yourself, clearly about to let go any second, and you knew Neil could too. Your muscles were already spasming, clenching harshly around him, desperate for that last little push that you needed to tip over.

Neil grabbed your wrist with his other hand, only to drag it down to your clit. As he positioned your fingers, you heard him let out a small whine of his own.

“Fuck, baby - come for me, please,” he begged.

The added sensation of your fingers was more than enough to make you obey, and you screamed as Neil thrust his hips into you, pressing down harder with his hand. The feeling that washed over you was far too profane to be called good, but you found yourself unable to care about just how impure your thoughts were. You wanted Neil’s cum more than anything else in the world.

“That was so awesome,” Neil moaned.

His hands landed next to your head with a thud, as he fell forward heavily. The force sent a couple more VHS tapes tumbling off the shelf, raining down over the two of you. Neil didn’t seem to notice as he pumped into you again.

“I wish you’d told me about this sooner,” he laughed. “You’re squeezing me like crazy; I can’t believe how turned on you get at the thought of me fucking a baby into you.”

You could barely respond, still coming down from a high that had left you shaking. Neil brought a hand to your face, cradling you as he continued to thrust, steadily picking up pace.

“I’m right here, babe,” he assured, pressing a soft kiss to your head. “Fuck, you’re so pretty like this. Can you beg?”

His request sent a jolt straight through you. The sound of his voice, slightly strained and right on the verge of cracking, almost made it seem like he should have been the one to beg you. But, then again, he hadn’t needed even a full five minutes to get you to come so hard that you still couldn't see straight.

“Neil, please,” you whined, letting go of all sense of decency.

“What d’you want me to do, baby?” he groaned.

You suddenly found yourself with both hands pinned over your head; Neil’s fingers digging into your wrists as he held them tight. He leaned all his weight into it, using his other hand to grab frantically at your hip as he picked up his pace even more. It hurt, having both arms pressed so hard into the floor, but you honestly couldn’t have cared less if it meant Neil was close.

“Fuck, Neil - want you to fill me and fuck me again and again. Want your cum so badly. Want you to-”

“Fuck!” Neil yelled.

You felt him rush to bury himself, deeper inside of you than he had ever been. His expression as he came was so twisted in agonized pleasure that it nearly knocked the wind out of you. The sensation was somehow different than you had imagined it; a wet warmth that seemed to spread through you and seep into your bones, still sore from being pushed down into the hard floor.

As he came down from his own high, Neil thrusted weakly a few more times. You felt his cum start to slip out of you, dripping down the curve of your thigh before pooling onto the carpet.

That would be awkward to explain. You hoped that it wouldn’t stain too badly.

“Holy shit, we should do that more often,” Neil breathed. He brought his hand back to your face, dragging his knuckles over your jaw as he let go of your wrists. “You okay, baby?”

“I’m… yeah,” you said dreamily, still unable to think quite straight. “Wow, Neil.”

“Yeah, I could tell you enjoyed that,” he laughed, moving inside you and shoving his cum a just little bit deeper.

He had started to get soft, but you felt him twitch slightly at the new sensation. Your mind flashed back to earlier, when he had talked about filling you over and over again until there was no way you couldn’t get pregnant.

Neil kissed you sweetly on the lips, then pulled back to look at you. A serious expression bloomed over his face.

“Babe, do you have any other fantasies? You have to tell me if you do.” He kissed you on the nose, quickly, before continuing. “Can’t believe I almost missed out on the chance to breed your tight little cunt.”

Neil, clearly, hadn’t quite left this particular fantasy behind.

“I didn’t mean to not tell you. I just… I worried you’d think it was weird.”

“Baby, anything that drives you this wild would never be weird to me,” Neil promised. “Especially if it means I get to do this. You really do look so pretty stuffed full of cum.”

You felt your cheeks start to heat up again, and Neil pressed his lips to yours, softer this time. His tongue slipped briefly past yours, before he pulled away to look down at you. You were the first to speak.

“I really do think you’d make a good dad. Just for the record,” you said.

Neil brushed the tip of his nose over yours.

“You tryin’ to sweet talk me into doing all that again?” he teased. “Because I think we might wreck the whole store. Somebody’s gotta clean up these tapes.”

He gestured widely toward the shelf next to you, knocking over a few more cassettes in the process.

You laughed, wrapping your arms tight around Neil’s neck as you pulled him in close for one more kiss.

#neil lewis x reader #neil lewis smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut #neil lewis #LemmyFics

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sorencd · 9 months

Note

could you write something about reader being scared of wilson cheating on her but then he conforts her? cuz with the history of cheating that he has i would be scared lmao

SANCTUARY

a/n : thank u sm for the req! i love me some good old comfort w wilson. i don't know how this turned into 1.4k i told myself i would keep it short lol. reader is a doctor btw! and charlotte is the name i gave ur friend :)

w.c. : 1.4k

"dude, are you okay?"

your friend's sudden voice that came out of nowhere brought you back from your mindless gazing, you didn't even notice that you were absent-mindedly staring off into space. a few patients got scared because they thought you were judging them with your stare, and after a few complaints, your friend finally approached you to ask if you were okay.

"hm?"

"you're definitely not okay."

"i'm- yeah! i'm totally fine. you were saying?"

she crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow, not believing a single word that came out of your lips. you knew your actions were giving away too much, but even if you tried hiding the fact that something was bothering you, she'd probe and pry more relentlessly.

"what's wrong? there's something wrong. are you okay?"

you sighed defeatedly, there's no more escaping her. figuring that there isn't much to do aside from telling her what's on your mind, you pulled your friend into an empty room and shut the door. resting your back against the surface and in a hushed whisper, ushered her to come closer.

"are you pregnant?"

"what- no! charlotte what on earth- say that again and i'm no longer telling you."

"ok ok! i'm shutting the fuck up. you may continue."

a brief pause encapsulated the unoccupied room before you opened your lips hesistantly. opening up to people was something you always found hard to do, whether they be a family member or a close friend, you could never easily voice out your thoughts. but you couldn't really hold this in any longer, you needed to tell someone.

"i've been feeling... an awful lot insecure lately. not the kind that involves my appearance! that's saved for tuesdays."

"then what kind?"

"it.. it's about wilson.."

"what did he do? do you need me to chop off his-"

"no no! none of that! it's just... i'm scared i'll just end up as another ex-this or ex-that or someone that house would mention to him and james would gag whenever he hears my name. i don't know maybe i'm just being over-dramatic."

"have you tried telling wilson about how you’re feeling?"

"i've tried starting the conversation.. but i'd always end up chickening out. so now i'm stuck with these self-deprecating thoughts and i don't like it one bit." you ended with a huff, hiding your face behind your hands and tiredly letting your shoulders slouch down. "it's hard talking to patients when every single one of them would ask me if 'everything's alright', i should be the one asking them that!"

"you know, you shouldn't be bottling your feelings. a relationship goes two ways, don't be scared to tell any of this to wilson! asking for reassurance is never a bad thing, and it doesn't make you needy or demanding or whatever, it's your right as his partner! i'm sure wilson would understand, he loves you very much, how could he not?"

"you're right.. i'll talk to him when he have lunch together."

"you won't chicken out?"

"i won't. i swear."

"you better. i'll be watching you."

you quickly opened the door to avoid staying in the room for too long, you didn't want someone to catch you too talking about personal matters. charlotte waved you off before returning back to her department, leaving you alone. you decided that for the remainder of your vacant and spare time you were going to rehearse what you plan on telling wilson, you didn't want to embarrass yourself and stutter the entire time. so you scurried away into your office, determined to go through with your plan.

if anyone were to press their ear against the door, they would have heard your incessant muttering and would've thought you were insane. you had your feet propped up on the table as you recited word for word how you were going to tell all of this to wilson, despite knowing that when the time comes, all of it would be useless and you'd go completely off script. but it gets your mind off of things so you carried on. a familiar knocking pattern resounded over your hushed whispering, it was wilson. he had this specific knocking style that you grew accustomed too. you felt a shiver run down and a dreaded feeling dripped in each step you took on your way to open the door for james, since you kept it locked, not wanting anyone to see you panicking in your office. you twisted the door knob slowly, and behind it was wilson. standing happily and his usual dorky smile making an appearance when he saw your face.

"hi."

"hi. you ready to grab lunch?"

you turned your head to the side before answering, a habit that always showed whenever you were nervous and you never seemed to be able to get rid of it. to try and avoid him from gaining any suspicion that something's wrong and notice how tense and sweaty your palms were, you tried making small talk. 'i'm not myself at all.'

the entire short walk to the canteen you listened to wilson ramble about some case house had, and how they're having a hard time diagnosing the patient. and no matter how hard you tried focusing on wilson's voice the gnawing feeling won't stop buzzing and crawling at the back of your mind, you felt sick.

wilson, from the moment you opened the door to your office, knew something was up. you didn't have that bright favorite smile of his, nor did you have any snarky remarks to say while he was storytelling. you didn't contribute to the conversation at all, and it wasn't like you. it carried on even until you two came back from the canteen and retreated to his office. he wanted to ask you what's wrong, but he didn't want to pressure you into saying anything you aren’t ready to tell him. so instead he waited until you were the one to approach him. he was also half-nervous that if he ever asked, you'd just suddenly blurt out that you two should break up. and he'd rather not have that happen.

"james.. i'm..." now it was wilson's turn to be nervous. "you love me, right?"

you had this.. sad look on your face that wilson wasn't used to, he couldn’t describe it. you looked defeated, tired even. he began to replay the last few days, you were fine! you were your usual, loving, witty, happy self!

"yes, of course i do." he replied with all seriousness, dropping the files he picked up to reorganize them. "why do you ask?"

"it's nothing, really. and i don't know why i did."

he gently approached you, careful not to seem condescending when he gently took a hold of both your wrists.

"i'm pretty sure you going quiet is never a good idea and is 'nothing'. come on sweetheart, you can tell me anything."

when you looked up into his eyes and found nothing but sincerity, you cracked and gave in. you told him everything that was on your mind.

"i'm- i was.. i was scared, james. i was scared that you'd leave me for some... better girl or something i don't even know myself, and that i'd just end up as another one of your exes. i don't want that! i don't want any of this to end and i'm so so scared that it eventually would and i can't do anything about it and i couldn't tell you earlier because i was scare you'd get mad or somethi-"

"(y/n)."

the soft mention of your name stopped you from rambling on any further. and now you were in his embrace, his arms wrapped around you perfectly and tightly. when wilson pulled away, youhad tears threatening to fall from your eyelids.

"i'd never leave you for anyone else, (y/n). why would i when i already found the one? i already found you. you just- complete me. i can't put into words how much you make me feel content or- or happy, loved, it's like you were always here. i would have to be an idiot to let you go. besides, you know too much about me. you're stuck with me forever."

he still managed to make you laugh despite the tears running down your cheeks. you probably looked insane, laughing and crying at the same time.

"you're- i love you, james."

"i love you too, (y/n). don't ever be afraid to talk about anything, okay?"

"okay."

#james wilson x reader #james wilson #house md

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wheresmymilliondollarman · 1 year

Note

Hiii! I've discovered your account recently and you can definitely count me as one of your fans! Also I've never saw someone write for book bfs before so that's cool of you to do it ! I really don't know if you take requests but if u don't it's ok! but if you do can I have an Kenjix reader where she's a trained spy with no powers and Aaron send her on a mission with Kenji where she hates him at first but then she gets to know him and fall for him ? (Maybe w/o spoilers for books after ignite me)

how you get the girl

kenji kishimoto x fem!reader

you were never fond of the newest recruit, but after being assigned on a mission with him, your perspective might just change.

a/n: ty for the request!! been wanting to write for kenji, but struggled with a concept, so this is a great idea !! this is more an au thing, not based on a certain timeline in the series, so it should be spoiler free !! there also a hunger games reference in this bc i can't help myself. extra note: thank you for being so patient i had to go on n unexpected hiatus because i got sick then a bunch of stuff in my life is happening right now, so it was hard to write. but i have finally have time again somewhat and i want to get inspo to write <3

word count: 6.8k

warnings: really bad corny pick-up lines, kinda bad description of action LOL, mentions of injuries and blood, take a shot every time reader rolls her eyes

your home lied within the reestablishment for as long as you could remember. your father had stood behind the idea since it first became conceived.

before the reestablishment came along, your family lived in the trenches of poverty. living in a one-bedroom apartment in the unsafest part of the city. most lived the same since the world was slowly deteriorating — counties went hungry, climate change affected natural resources, and the grasp of government control slipped away. it seemed like the end of the world for some, but you were too young to say for sure.

your mother came down with an illness when you were around three. it was unsure of what it was, but it damaged her greatly and fatally. your father attempted to gather the money to see a doctor, pawning items, stealing money, and even asking the government for assistance, but it all became futile. your mother ended up passing a few months later.

your father’s grief and rage at society drove him toward the direction of the reestablishment. they had already been around quite some time, but no one ever took it seriously - another political group with empty promises, they called it. but your father had faith in their potential, he had to, now that he wanted to ensure a better future for yourself. so, he offered his undying loyalty to the group, and they took an interest in that and offered him a low level job.

within years, he worked his way up in power, helped enhance the reestablishment’s control over the world, and soon they were the sole government. many resisted, but the majority resided their fate to them because how much worse could the world get?

overtime, the distant memories of the old world faded and were forgotten by many, including yourself. all you knew and lived was reestablishment life. books, movies, devices, or anything pertaining to before reestablishment life was discarded. you were too young to even remember most of those things. so, unlike others, you never felt like you missed out on anything.

you were trained to be a soldier since practically diapers. the rebellion against the reestablishment was prominent during its early years, so your father ensured you could defend yourself properly if the worse were to come. with your agility and stealth, you were recruited to be a spy for them, infiltrating other bases and spying on the rebellion.

your father now works closely with supreme commander anderson at the capital, but you’ve designated yourself to sector 45, along with warner. he recognized your talent the moment he met you and employed you to his sector. that was how it became your current home.

your father was more than thrilled you impressed the commander’s son, telling you it was important to have their favor. ever since, he’d push the idea of you two, repeating that if you played your cards right, you could become the future supreme commander’s wife.

you felt nauseous at the idea. you would never want to be a second in command helping run a country, much less marry the person who does.

“hey! warner’s calling you into his office.” a voice called out to you.

you snapped out of your daydream, remembering your current location. you stood in the training room, gloves on, practicing your punches onto one of the many punching bags. you tended to zone as as you got more into your workout.

you turned around to face the soldier who had come in for the purpose of recalling a message, “thank you, tell him i will be there immediately.” he gave a curt nod and headed out.

you sighed, you were sure you were about to be sent on another mission to gather data. and normally, you would’ve been up for it, dying to put your skills to use. but lately, it seems the passion has disappeared. it was getting too repetitive for your liking, and you feared the rest of your life would play out the same.

you gathered your belongings, stuffing your water bottle and gloves back into your gym bag, and replaced your sweaty black shirt with a plain gray one.

you procrastinated as much as possible on the way to warner’s office. you are in no rush to head back out into the field or hear warners endless instructions on the mission. for once, you envied the low ranked soldiers. warner never expected much of them, so they were often overlooked and free to do as (possibly) pleased. you were expected to be no less than perfect.

you took a deep breath before knocking on the office door. once warner granted permission, you entered the room, and the first thing you noticed was another person was already there — one you recognized to be one of warner's many men, kenji kishimoto.

‘this is already off to a bad start,’ you told yourself. kenji was fairly new to the unit, joining a bit over a year ago. you never saw him much because of how busy you are, but due to his poor performance, warner had assigned you to train him for a week.

it hadn’t been your first time training a soldier, so you were prepared to follow a routine and help him get the hang of basics. but you quickly learned kenji was going to be a pain in your ass.

first, he was half an hour late to your training, wasting time you could’ve used for your own personal agenda. then, when he showed up, he acted nonchalantly about it. you decided to brush it off and just get the training over with than argue and waste more time. but as training commenced, he started acting condescending towards you. asking if you were sure what you were doing and whether you were the most qualified person to be instructing him. again, you ignored him and remained professional — trying your best to just finish off the lesson without any hassle.

the final straw for you came when you asked him to throw a punch to examine his form and offer critiques. to this responded, “are you sure about that? wouldn’t want to hurt you, sweetheart.” he said haughtily. you just about had it by then.

in a quick movement, you threw a punch to his face, twisted his arm, and flipped him onto the mats. “sorry, did i hurt you sweetheart?” you asked in a condescendingly sweet tone. all kenji does is groan in response.

after, you just stormed off and informed warner he would no longer be in charge of his training. you offered him no explanation and simply walked out of his office. if you hadn’t been so upset, you would’ve slapped yourself for being so careless in front of the commander's son. but fortunate to you, warner had no objections and simply tasked someone else to teach kenji.

however, that wasn’t even the end of your meeting. despite you bruising his face, kenji started to follow you like a puppy. you suddenly would run into him at least once a day. you swore he had to be somehow following you, and pretending it was a coincidence the two of you ran into each other. despite your expertise in the art of spying, you were never able to catch him in the act. you could sometimes feel a pair of eyes on you, but when you turned around, there was no one there.

you told him many times to leave you alone, but that only seemed to intrigue him more. he went from condescending to flirting with you. you weren’t sure which one was worse. you were starting to think the latter because of his awful pickup lines.

“do you have a name, or can i just call you mine?”

“oh god, i’m gonna throw up.”

“i’m going for a walk, would you mind holding my hand?”

“if you get your hand near me, it’s getting cut off.”

“i love it when you talk dirty to me.”

“do you travel through time? because i’ve pictured you in my future.”

“you’re not going to have a future, if you utter another word.”

“let me be the flynn rider to your rapunzel.”

“one, shut up. two, who are they?”

“what! you don’t know the amazing film that is tangled?”

“never mind, forget, i asked..”

no matter your reply, he never seems to get the hint. no, scratch that, he definitely got the hint he just simply did not care. this guy could be hit with a tank, and you were convinced he’d still have some stupid line to say to you.

back to your current predicament, you were unsure why warner would call for kenji as well. you were hoping they were just finishing up a conversation, and you happened to be a bit early. which you kinda doubted because you had taken as long as you possibly could to get to this room.

you walked up to warner’s desk, “you called for me sir?” you questioned. the sooner you got your task, the sooner you can get away from the man next to you.

kenji turns his attention toward you, unfortunately for you, “hey gorgeous, funny seeing you around here.” he says with a stupid smirk accompanying.

“not really.” you spoke bluntly.

before he can speak any more, dumb words, warner clears his throat indicating he is about to speak. “yes i did, and as you can see, i also called kishimoto here because I wanted to speak to the both of you.”

oh no. you weren’t liking where this was going so far, especially since this is an issue needing both of your presence in the room. you prayed he wasn’t about to assign you to train with kenji again. you lucked out last time, but there is no way you would be able to again decline in a way that wouldn’t defy warner. you remained stoic and nod to his words, waiting in suspense for his instructions.

“oh please go on, i’m intrigued.” kenji inquires. warner pays no mind him, nice to see you’re not the only one who does that.

“the reason for that is, i am in need of both of you for a mission in favor of the reestablishment.” he explains, folding his hands together neatly on his wooden desk.

technically, your prayer was granted; you didn’t need to train kenji. no, instead you had to go & work with him on a mission. ‘that’s why they say be careful what you wish for.’

you couldn’t protest and say absolutely not, or you just look like a child throwing a tantrum. it took a good portion of your self-control to keep that apathetic look on your face. but even then, your left eye reflexively twitched in irritation.

“no disrespect to your order sir, but why is kishimoto needed? i can handle myself quite well if you didn’t already know.” you try to reason.

“are you that nervous to be with me?” kenji interrupts smugly. you can’t help but stomp on his foot, even if it is a bit childish, your face neutral, not even sparring a look his way.

kenji yelps in pain, but still remarks, “nice to see your love language has switched from verbal threats to physical violence.”

warner, unbothered by your actions, replies, “i’m well aware of your capabilities l/n. but this task is a bit more dire than your usual requests. i’d prefer if you had a helping hand. plus, kishimoto still needs practice in the field and there’s no better example to follow than you.”

“thank you sir, for the compliment, but-“

“is that an objection to an order, l/n?” warner challenged you, raising a brow. you knew that was the end of it. as much as you didn’t like kenji, it wasn’t an issue worth being on warner’s bad side for.

“no,” you stated defensively, “of course not, sir, i am ready to serve the reestablishment as needed,” you restate your loyalty, but these days it felt like empty words.

“i, for one, have no issue with this request sir. i’m more than willingly to go along with y/n on this secret mission.” kenji proclaims with a gleeful smile.

“great, because the both of you will be departing tomorrow morning.” warner informed, leaning back into his seat. “that will be all,” he dismissed with a wave of a hand.

kenji and you both respectively nodded and turned your backs to walk away and exit his office. once you’re in the hall, your cool demeanor vanquishes and is replaced with a distasteful look. you simply couldn’t believe this was happening. you got partnered with the guy who you heard already had 19 demerits. surely, the world was punishing you.

opposite to you, kenji stood there with a sneaky smile, obviously enjoying how today’s events played out. it only annoyed you further.

“well, well, well,” he begins, “i guess we’ll be spending quite a bit of time with each other. you never know how long these missions take perhaps will be stuck teach with each other for a whole month. wouldn’t that just be exciting?” kenji teases, draping an arm over your tense shoulders.

you rolled your eyes and roughly pushed his arm off of you, “this operation is solely for professional purposes, kishimoto. we’ll be in and out then come back and relay information. then i go back to ignoring you.” you don’t bother to wait for a reply and start the walk to your living, quarters to prepare for your departure.

“i’ll grow on you eventually y/n!” he hollers at you as you venture further down the hall.

you dreaded the events to come the moment you opened your eyes to woke up.

a part of you had hoped your talk with warner yesterday had been a nightmare, but as soon as you saw your packed bag on your dresser, you knew it was your reality.

you hopped in the shower for a quick wash, braided your hair, and suited up in all black attire. you slip your bag over your shoulder and reluctantly walk out your room. from there, you made your way to the weaponry.

at the weaponry, you didn’t see kenji’s face; you had hope there was still a possibility he would not end up going along with you, and he would either be replaced, or you be left to your own devices. you started supplying weapons into your bags and filling the holsters strapped on your body.

“can’t believe you already started without me, angel.” you hear a voice announce from behind you.

you groaned, apparently, it was too much to ask to wish him away. he reminded you of a small insect that just refused to die no matter how many times you stepped on it with your foot.

he doesn’t miss a beat, moving to the spot next to you, “don’t sound too excited, or else i’d start to think you like me,” kenji playfully remarks.

you scoff, “only in your wildest dreams.”

“right you are.” you grimace at his reply.

“can you just hurry up? the sooner we set off the better.” you urge him.

he doesn’t deter from his smugness at your fierce attitude, “if you were so eager to be alone with me, you should’ve just told me, would’ve saved us a lot of trouble.”

you groaned, already sick of being around him. how were you supposed to do this for a day, or even more? “you have five minutes or swear to god i’m leaving without you.” you promised on your way out.

you made good of your word, and waited by the plane for approximately five minutes (you even counted down the seconds in your head). warner assigned a plane for the both of you, with its own pilot, to take you to your destination.

you wait until the last second before you board the small plane to inform the pilot to prepare for take off. not even a minute later, you hear the movement of footsteps rushing towards the vehicle. you try to conceal your look of disappointment when you see it, kenji coming toward you.

you step down the plane to coldly greet him, “you’re lucky you made it, i was prepared to about to leave without you,” you tell kenji seriously. “i suppose i can always just push you off the plane one we take off to rid of you,” you nonchalantly suggest.

he just laughs in response, thinking there’s no way you would actually take off without him, his laughter silences down when you offer no humor in your tone, nor your face. “you are just kidding right?”

you remain silent, and turn your back to board the plane.

“..right?” he calls at you, a hint of worry in his tone. the corner of your lip tugs up in amusement as you walk off.

“wow, this spy stuff is quite boring.” kenji complains aloud. “how are you ever entertained doing this on your own? thank goodness you have me around now. perhaps we can even be some sort of duo, we can even have a cool name - the terrific two? nah. the dangerous duo? eh. oh wait, i’ve got it! mr. and mrs. smith-“

“will you shut up!” you turn your head away to snap at him. you were ready to lose your mind with his absurd commentary for the past hour.

the two of you stationed yourselves on top of a tall building’s rooftop hiding from plain view & your target’s sight. your current target was a supreme commander of another country, one that had indirectly expressed his indifference toward warner, but remained loyal to reestablishment principles. warner believes it’s possible he may have a hidden agenda concerning the reestablishment, and just to be sure, he tasked you to report his activity.

your mission wasn’t anything complicated, the majority of it consisted of keeping vigilant watch and reporting anything of utter importance. the two of you used your binoculars to spy on the commander and his men from above. but you understood why warner had wanted someone to accompany you. there were almost 3 times as many men than what you were used to on your operations. but you weren’t going to admit this to the person next to you.

kenji nods, “you’re right we should skip the mindless comments and instead get to know each other. after all, i’d be real awkward if i didn’t even know fun facts about my future girlfriend,” he makes a hand gesture toward you at the end of his words.

“first off, never going to be your girlfriend. second, this isn’t a date; we’re on a stakeout collecting information.” you reiterate.

“come on,” kenji complains, “these guys have done nothing for the past 2 hours. the only criminal thing that is worth mentioning is that the commander does not pull off purple .”

you scoffed, annoyed, but you couldn’t say he was completely lying. it has been kind of a slow night. the commander stood by his post, watching the soldiers pack shipments meant for other countries & sectors, including sector 45. whenever the supreme commander would leave, either kenji or you would tail him, but it was also a dead end. he either needed to use the bathroom or go to his office to retrieve something. a part of you was starting to wonder why warner would think of this man as suspicious when he seemed as bland as the color beige. it was quite offensive to your spy expertise to be sent on such a mundane mission.

you sigh in defeat, “fine,” you turn to face kenji, “if it gets you to shut up. what do you wanna know?”

kenji places his hand over his chest, making a face of disbelief. “wow, i’ve finally done it, i’ve cracked you. it’s only a matter of time now before you actually start enjoying my presence like most of the female population.”

“i’m this close to pushing you off the ledge right now.” you exclaim, pinching your index and thumb very close as a demonstration.

“well, if we’re gonna be working together,”

he starts, ignoring your threat, “we’ve got to learn more about eachother - you know ,like the deep stuff.”

“the deep stuff?” you repeat suspiciously.

“yeah, like, what’s your favorite color?”

you turn away dramatically, “well, now you’ve just crossed the line,” you say in a light tone.

he shakes his head, “seriously, what’s your favorite color?”

“hm,” you ponder on it for a second before answering, “i like yellow.”

“yellow?” he repeats, unsure of whether to believe you. “you’re telling me, the spy who is always seen in all black’s favorite color is yellow?” he speaks as if the concept is foreign to him.

you roll your eyes for the millionth time tonight, “i wear all black because i’m working, not by personal choice. my wardrobe is actually full of colorful choices.” you admit.

kenji smirks, “so, what color are you wearing underne-“

“anyway,” your speak over him, cutting him off. “what’s your favorite color?” you ask to change focus.

“purple. and not like the purple that supreme commander looks horrendous in,” you hold back a smile at the insult, “more like the shade of purple rapunzel’s dress is.”

you tilt your head, “who’s rapunzel, is she a friend of yours?”

his eyes narrow at you, “a friend of min- she’s only one of the greatest heroines in the disney film history!” he exclaims.

“what about your knee?”

“you can’t be serious-“

that was when you heard it, voices speaking in rushed and commanding tones, getting louder and louder to the point you were able to make out the words without your listening equipment. you recognized one of them - the supreme commander.

“shoot them!” he shouted at the soldiers.

you’d been spotted. and now they were going to start firing.

“kenji get down!”

“what-“

you didn’t wait for him to understand and instinctively jumped onto kenji’s body to bring him down to the ground and avoid him from getting shot.

due to your heroic act, you were unfortunately caught by a bullet and shot in your left arm. you’ve been shot before, but it didn’t suck any less. luckily, the adrenaline coursing through you helped subdue the pain for now, but you know it’s only a matter of time before you were withering in discomfort.

“shit!” kenji cursed in reaction to the many gunshots shooting at you both. you both are currently protected by the small four feet ledge from the building you were grounded on.

“how did they even spot us?“ kenji hollers so you could him him over the flux of bullets.

“i don’t know, but there’s no time for explanations. this ledge won’t protect us for long we have to find a way out of here without being noticed.“

you had a lurking suspicion the commander was given a heads-up on the arrival of two spies. however, it wasn’t a time to investigate that.

kenji began to move from beneath you so he could somewhat sit himself up, still avoiding being hit. his movement caused you to unintentionally hiss in pain when he rubbed against your injured arm; that is when kenji took notice of your wound.

he gently grabbed it for further inspection, blood oozing from the hole of the bullet plunged into your arm. returns his gaze to you. his eyes showing worry, “you’re injured. why didn’t you say anything?” he questions you gently.

he then swiftly untucked his long sleeve shirt for machines and ripped a piece of it from the bottom. then he began to wrap it around your injury and tie it to give it pressure to lessen the bleeding.

“didn’t think there was time, you know, with hundreds of bullets coming our way.”

kenji rolls his eyes. you speak up again before he has a chance to counter, “ok, we seriously need to focus on our plan of action right now. we are way too outnumbered to strike back.”

kenjis nods and looks down in concentration of convincing a plan, and you do the same. you both could maneuver your way down towards the way you came in, but no doubt the commander's men have already begun to circle around the entire establishment. you both could sprint quick enough and jump onto the neighboring building, but it would require some climbing. and with your current left arm in bad shape, could be almost impossible for you to climb a building with one arm, no matter the skill acquired in your training.

do you have to make a decision quick, so you went with the most logical one. “kenji,” you call his attention, and he looks up from his spot, “i have a plan. but..you’re going to have to go without me.”

kenji’s face shifted from concern to confusion. “i don’t understand..”

you briefly explained the small plan you concocted, “with my with my injury , it’s clear i can’t do it. so, it’s better that you go on and-“

kenji doesn’t let you finish. “no. no. that’s not an option.” he protests.

“you have t-“

his hand is covering your mouth in a second, “it’s out of the question. don’t go saying that stupid shit again, got it?“ he sternly tells you, looking you in the eye intensely.

you’ve never had someone be so adamant about leaving you behind. if it had been anyone else with you, they would’ve up and left the moment you suggested it. a warm feeling tingled in your stomach at the thought to kenji caring about you so much.

you’re quite stunned at his assertiveness, so you nod quietly - which is highly out of character for you.

once he knows you understand, he removes his hand from your face, sighing as he does so. “i have a way for us to get out of here unnoticed and safely,” kenji admits. you pique up, intrigued by how he has a better solution, and motion for him to continue. “but you’re really going to have to trust me for this to work, ok?” he says more like a statement than a question.

“ok.” you agree.

while you may not have known kenji too long or even liked him much before tonight, he wasn’t incompetent, mostly, you had enough faith in him to believe he wouldn’t intentionally put you both in harm's way.

kenji takes a deep breath in, and you can tell to ease his nerves. it bubbles up your curiosity more. it must be something quite grand for him to be nervous to do. but then again, it had to be something quite out of the box if it weren’t a plan you could’ve conceived.

“i’m going to grab your hand, and then i’m gonna need you to do your best to not freak out.” kenji instructs carefully to you.

now you were getting anxious; what could possibly make you freak out? generally weren’t the type to scare easily, and you’re sure kenji knew this. but you truly had no other option unless you wanted to be stranded here. the sound of gunfire served over to reminder of your limited time.

you nod in confirmation and hold out your right hand in permission for him to grab. kenji takes a second before he latches his hand into yours.

for a moment, you’re confused. nothing seems to be happening. part of you thought he was going to continue with your plan, but forcibly drag you along with him. you turn your attention toward the other side to check if you were supposed to see something. but again, saw nothing of significance.

you begin to scowl, “kenji is this a joke-“

but when you turn to see kenji, no one is there. right away, you assume he left you and did everything prior as some twisted joke. you were ready to get angry, but then you felt the pressure on your palm. you were still holding his hand.

you looked around again and saw no sign of kenji besides his hand in yours. your confusion was deepening at this point, and you were beginning to think you passed out after being shot and were currently dreaming. you looked down at your interlocked hands, but you didn’t see your hands either. your eyes then moved over to your own body, but again - nothing.

you gasp, “what the hell?”

you instantly panic, not understanding what is happening. you move your body in the hope it would make it visible again, but failed. you try to free your hand from kenji’s, but he firmly keeps it gripped.

“hey, it’s alright, i’m here. calm down.” you hear kenji finally speak from next to you. you feel his thumb rub over the top of your hand in an attempt to soothe you.

you ignore him and attempt to make a list of possible nonsense that would explain the situation. “are we dead?”

“no! just invisible.” he states calmly as if the whole situation were normal. he stands up, forcing you to do the same. he begins to build up a run toward the side of the building. you can’t see either of your bodies, so you do your best to keep up without tripping.

“invisible?” you repeat, “how are we invisible?” it sounded ridiculous saying it aloud, but it was the only “reasonable” explanation for what was happening.

“uh, let’s just say i have a certain skill set.” he says in a rushed tone. you couldn’t tell if it was because he wanted to avoid answering or focus on the task at hand. maybe both.

“that doesn’t explain anything!” you say, waving your other arm around, although you both are unable to see it.

now having reached the side of the building you entered from, you see the ladder that led you both up. kenji wastes no time on stepping down first. you can’t see his movement but can feel yourself being tugged and the sound of his boots hitting the metal.

you follow, continuing to hold his hand as he leads you both down the ladder of the building. “as you mentioned over and over before, there’s no time for explanations. you just focus on getting down this ladder.”

you did as he said (for once) and continued stepping down, with one hand on the rail, in silence. for once in your life, you were speechless.

you both successfully evaded the commander and his soldiers. the invisibility had proven to be true because you walked past them like it was nothing, as they still shot to where they assumed the two of you were still positioned.

there were no words exchanged on the way back to the plane. kenji took the initiative to inform the pilot of your coordinates, so the two of you could be picked up. you felt foolish for being so unprofessional, but you finally evading the danger, your state of shock was brought back.

when the plane finally landed down, kenji had finally returned both of your visible states and then released your hand. you could feel the sweat on it from holding on so long, but you were still reeling in from events to notice or care.

both of you moved to board the plane.

if you hadn’t faced some blood loss and felt incredible fatigue, you would’ve hounded kenji for answers on your way back to sector 47. but as soon as you sat down on a seat, you were out like a light.

the next time you open your eyes, all you could see was white. the ceiling lights temporarily blinded you, making it hard to see your surroundings at first.

you groaned from disorientation and the blinding light. you turn to the sense of touch and understand you are lying on a bed. your vision settled, and you were able to vaguely recognize your surrounding. the long windows, medical supplies, other white-sheeted beds neighboring, faint smell of disinfectant — you were in the medical wing in sector 45.

you knew it was the infirmary from your sector because of the large indentation on the wall from a mishap of yours a few years prior, one of the few times you actually went to a trained nurse instead of mending to yourself. long story short, the nurses really should have de-weaponized you before attempting to wake you up after you’d passed out.

now knowing you were in a dangerous environment, you slowly began to sit up. you used one hand to stable yourself since the other was put into a cast. the aching you were trying to put off the whole mission came in full force.

you looked down at your attire; your first layers of clothes covered in grime and blood were removed. now you were only left in your black shorts and tank top.

not even a moment later, you hear the sounding of the your door opening.

“well finally you’re awake!” a voice says, “thought i’d need to wake you up with true love’s kiss.”

kenji walks up to your bedside, his sly smile never faltering until he takes a glance at your injured arm.

he peers down at your face. he takes a hand and moves a strand of hair behind your ear. your stomach warms at the feeling of his faint touch on the side of your face.

“i thought i’d lost you for a second there, sleeping beauty.” kenji says in a gentle tone.

another reference of his you didn’t understand, but you chose to focus on his other words instead.

you tilt your sore neck, which you regret, in confusion, “what do you mean?”

“you were asleep the whole flight, and when we landed, i tried to wake you, but you wouldn’t stir. i knew something was wrong. my assumption was proven correct because when i examined your arm, your blood loss was almost severe. after that, i just rushed to get here.” kenji explains, his tone a bit somber. you fight the urge to hold his hold and comfort him, then chide yourself for thinking so something so intimate involving kenji.

guess you probably should’ve checked your arm when you boarded the plane. somehow, your bloody arm had gone from the first to the last thing on your mind during the operation.

“and now your facing my dashingly handsome face.” he cockily adds in.

there it is. you don’t even snarkily counter back. for once, you just smile in response. you give in to your urges and grab onto his hand, giving it a soft squeeze, “thank you kenji. seriously, i know we started on the wrong foot, but i’m very grateful to you.” you say sincerely.

kenji squeezes your hand in return, “to be fair, you’re the one who’s made your distaste toward me very clear while all i did was confess my undying love to you.” he corrects with a pout. he places a hand over his heart in fake pain.

your mouth gapes, “what? you’re the one who not only showed up late, but acted like a total douche the first time we met.”

kenji laughs at this sheepishly, “yeah, about that..” he goes to rubs his hand on the side of his neck.

“what?” you question. “don’t leave me hanging.”

kenji laughs, “that first meeting, i wasn’t actually late.” he starts.

you shake your head, “yes you were. i waited there for almost half an hour.”

“i was there fifteen minutes early, waiting by the door. but then i saw you walk past me, not even sparing a glance, and go into the training room.” kenji confesses.

“then why were you so late?” you interrupt impatiently. you don’t remember seeing him there at all, and if he had been there, why didn’t he just go in straight after you instead of wasting your time.

“i’m getting there, angel.” kenji taps his index finger on the tip of your nose. you swat his hand and wait for him to go on.

“after you went in, i was stunned. truly. you were the most gorgeous being i’d ever seen, and you walked around like you didn’t even know it.”

you smack his arm at his dramatic flattery, “shut up, quit playing around and get to the point.”

“am i one to lie?” he asks rhetorically.

you give him a look. “alright, maybe, but it doesn’t make what i said any less true. you are beautiful, and anyone who hasn’t told you that is an idiot.”

you scoff, turning your head away from kenji. you rather him not see the rising redness on your cheeks.

luckily kenji continues without comment, “anyway, after i got a hold of myself, i thought, ‘how was a guy supposed to walk in and face this goddess of a person supposed to be his trainer.’ he can’t, so he does the classic guy move, ‘act indifferent to make yourself seem cooler in front of a girl.”

“so you acted like an asshole….on purpose….because you wanted to be cool in front of me?” you repeat slowly, making sure you understood his stupid plan.

“ok, i get it; it's not my best moment. trust me when i say i realized my mistake as soon as you started kicking my ass like it was nothing. but it actually made me like you more and even turned me on a bit-“

“ok, i think i got it!” you weren’t one to be so easily flushed, but it was hard not to when he was so blunt about affection toward you. even if it was vulgar.

“after that horrible first meeting, i had to get you to like me.” kenji explains, “so i did my best to use my attractiveness and charming persona to seduce you. but, damn, you wouldn’t even bat an eye at my attempts. that only made me wanna do it more.”

you cross your arms over your chest, “so what, you like me because i’m pretty and a challenge for you?” you ask with an aloof tone.

“maybe at the start, but now, everything about you has me captivated. your strength and resilience. the way people undermine you, but you don’t let it stop you from proving them wrong. how to most, you’re uptight and cold, but you actually care more than you’d want to admit. i admire that you want to be the best, but not for warner, for yourself.” your eyes begin to soften at kenji as he describes you so passionately. you didn’t realize observant of you he was.

kenji continues, “hell, even your stubbornness. though, you break my heart a little every time you reject one of my very well thought out pick up lin-“

you don’t wait to hear anymore. abruptly, you sit up and yank him by the collar of his shirt, pulling him down to your eye level. you’re moving automatically as if in a trance, and your sturdy hand reaches the right side of his face. “shut up.” you say in a rushed whisper.

then you kiss him. you actually, willingly, lean in and collide your lips with kenji kishimoto. you like it very much too. and there is no better feeling than the way his lips on yours make your heart race and body buzz with warmth and exhilaration.

everything happened so quick, kenji was frozen in his spot for a good moment - his eyes so wide they could’ve popped out. then, he smoothly regained composure. his face relaxed, now having a giddy grin into the kiss, and slid a hand to the back of your neck, under your hair, to hold you closer.

even though the kiss was a heat-of-the-moment decision, the kiss itself wasn’t heated nor rushed. no, it was almost the exact opposite. your lips were tenderly pressed together, heads titled opposite directions so you fit together in sync.

you move your touch to his covered chest, gripping his plain fitted shirt for dear life, a way to remind yourself that this was all very real.

you’re the first to pull away; part of you already longing for his touch as you did. you felt dizzy, not in a loss of blood way, but in a weightless feeling way. you couldn’t stop the silly smile etched on your face, nor the flushed look that was likely written all over your face. you couldn’t even find yourself caring about it.

kenji’s appearance isn’t much different from yours, but his smile is crooked and screams more of satisfaction and a bit of cockiness. “told you i’d eventually win you over.”

you chuckle and lightly punch kenji’s bicep, shaking your head, “tell anyone, and i’ll deny it.” you threaten in jest.

you tap your lips with your index finger and look up in mock contemplation, “hm. maybe if you explain how you turned us invisible back there i’ll think about a date.” you remind him. you were still owed a great explanation.

kenji grins, “is that all it takes? well, then, i’ve got a hell of a story for you.”

special thank you to @butterflyreads for being so patient and liking my works, hope you enjoy this one <3

#kenji kishimoto #kenji kishimoto x reader #kenji kishimoto x female reader #kenji kishimoto imagine #shatter me #shatter me fanfic #aaron warner #juliette ferrars #x female reader #reader imagine #reader insert

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outerbankies · 1 year

Text

new light: head over heels — rafe cameron

new light masterlist

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

warnings: alcohol and swearing might be it?

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

“Are we really doing this?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Rafe, I’m not your enemy.”

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You come visit,” Topper counters.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Everything but that last one,” you wince.

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

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

“Noted.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did not!” you gasp, offended.

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

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

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

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

“Y/n?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

Spring Break, 6 years ago

“Can I sit here?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nervous?” you ask. “Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“If not Topper, then who?”

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

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

“Sidney,” you say.

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

“There you are.”

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

“You ready, Chlo?”

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

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

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

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

“Oh yeah? Who?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maybe,” you shrug.

“Oh, c’mon,” Rafe goads.

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

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

—

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

“What are you gonna get?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t really know how,” you shrug.

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

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

“Is it everything you ever dreamed?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Here.”

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

“Thanks,” you repeat.

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

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

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

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

“I’m sure he did.”

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

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

“It gets patchy after that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Have fun with Topper?” she asks.

“Chloe,” Rafe says pointedly.

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you okay?”

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

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

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

“I’m sorry. About this morning.”

“Oh, it was no big deal,” you shrug.

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

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

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

“Yeah, but—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

Present day

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

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

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

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

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

“Neither of them fit.”

“Even better,” he goads.

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

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

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

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

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

“What gives, Y/l/n?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

“Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You look beautiful.”

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

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

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

“You perv. It was standard issue.”

“You rolled it up. I know you did.”

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

“I wasn’t looking at everyone.”

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

“You make me sick. Lovesick.”

“Rafe.”

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

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

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

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

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

—

I’m so cold

my mom should’ve put extra blankets out?

She did. Still

suck it up buttercup

Pretty sure Cap misses you too. Whining at the door

noooooo my baby :(

What about me?

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

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

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

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

“Alright. Let’s go.”

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

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

“Rafe, how nice of you to drop in.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This better be good.”

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

“I know.”

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

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

“Okay, but—”

“Five minutes,” Will says, with finality.

“Yes, sir,” Rafe says.

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

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

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

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

“Hi. Thought I heard the back door.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Mm.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Rafe, a word?” Will calls.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mm,” Will hums noncommittally.

“Why would you need to corner me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He knew it was temporary for him, but he hadn’t made any concrete plans of when or how to get out, and where he was going to go from there. And that apparently hadn’t stopped you from divulging all of this to maybe the second person he’d rather you not, after his own father.

“But not forever,” Will finishes for him. “So what’s next?”

“I don’t know how much she told you…” Rafe tries. Will doesn’t budge. “But I guess she had some friends over, and she—well, I make furniture, you know? Uh, woodturning was just a hobby I had in college at first.”

“Right, I knew that.”

Rafe nods, because it shouldn’t surprise him but it still kind of does—he doesn’t even know if his own dad knows that, but he can make an educated guess.

“And then I started doing it for Y/n/n. With our porch swing we left at the old house, and then our bed frame, her bookshelf, I made both of us desks, plus a couple of side tables—”

“I get it, Rafe.”

“Sorry, yeah,” Rafe says, message received. “But anyway, a couple of her friends were over once, and some of them asked about a few pieces.”

“To buy?” Will asks.

“Yeah, to buy,” Rafe says proudly. “And they’re friends of hers, so I’d have done it free after materials. But they all insisted. So I had to work out some pricing scales and all of that pretty quickly.”

Will nods, and the unease at being thrown into this conversation before he’d even realized he’d have to have it one day—because of course your father is going to wonder about Rafe’s career and finances—is slightly eased by the thought he might be impressing him.

“Good money?”

“Listen,” Rafe sighs. “I don’t want to give you the wrong idea about anything, because I don’t know the first thing about freelancing or maybe owning a business? It’s not anywhere near that yet.”

“You could figure all of that out, and I could help you,” Will says, clasping his hands together. “But would it be something you want?”

“I’m realistic, sir. It’s not something I’d consider as anything other than a side gig,” Rafe says carefully.

“Okay,” your dad says, nodding in consideration. He leans over his desk, elbows pressing into the wood. “So that leaves your actual career… where?”

“Well—you know, uh. I’m fine working where I am,” Rafe says, before being prompted to add more by Will’s expectant stare. “But not forever. I think the goal is to move more into the contracting side one day.”

“Hm,” your father says. “Get out from behind the desk.”

“Exactly,” Rafe breathes, relieved he seems to be understanding him now. “Maybe do things on my own, or with a couple of partners. I used to work with my hands a lot in the summers, travel to sites all the time. I don't know... I miss that.”

“I see.”

Will doesn’t give him much more than that, which leaves Rafe to fill the pause with his nerve-y internal monologue. “Mr. Y/l/n, I hope it doesn’t come as a surprise to you that I intend to be in your daughter’s life forever. And if you’re worried that one day I won’t be able to take care of her—”

“I’m not worried about that,” Will says, waving the thought away. “I won’t pretend to know the financial situation your parents have left you in, nor do I want you to feel like you should tell me. But I know hers, and she’ll never have to depend on a boyfriend for anything. Ever. That was intentional.”

Rafe nods, because he know Sarah and Wheezie will probably receive the same treatment when that day comes. He never expected it for himself, but especially not now.

“And to be honest, Rafe, we’re only having this conversation because I believe you when you say that’s your intention. To be in her life,” Will continues. “But you aren’t exactly… on the same playing field as her, are you?”

“Not to my knowledge,” Rafe says quietly, looking down at his hands, fidgeting with the newly empty spot on his finger.

“Which is perfectly alright,” your father rushes to say. “Don’t get me wrong. But that’s why I like to know these things. it’s important to me that she isn’t in a situation where she could be taken advantage of.”

Rafe looks up at that. “You have to know I’d never do that to her.”

“But I want her to be with someone who will hold their own,” Will clarifies. “It’s only fair.”

“All of this would be settled before I made anything official,” Rafe says. Truthfully, he’d never thought this far into it, in his own head or even talking it out with you. But it’s a no-brainer that Rafe would want to feel stable before you officially joined your lives together, and especially before you brought children into it. “She doesn’t need to count on me, but I want her to be able to."

“I’m just being a father, Rafe,” Will reminds him. “If you have a daughter, or any kids one day, I hope you’ll see where I’m coming from.”

“I’m sure I will.”

Will flicks a hand toward the door, which Rafe takes as his cue to leave, the adrenaline draining from his body in a seconds. “Do what you need to do.”

Rafe shakes his hand before he leaves, stopping by to look at the landing that would take him back up the stairs to your room, wondering if he should risk the wrath of your mother so he can ask you what the hell that was about.

—

The grass crunches softly underneath your boots the next morning, and you feel a twinge of sympathy for Rafe, wondering if he hadn’t been exaggerating about the temperature out in the guest house after all. You know it can be drafty out there, but Rafe ran warm. Even still, you dig your hands even further into the pockets of the vest Rafe had loaned you as you make your way to the guest house, dogs left in the main house while the two of you just went into town to grab breakfast for your family.

Rafe texted you that he’d come to the main house to collect you, but you opted to come out for him early, just because you wanted to and you missed him.

You make it to the door step before the front door sweeps open, Rafe’s shoulders dropping when he sees you. “I thought I was coming to get you.”

“I missed you too much,” you joke. Rafe’s lips twinge interestingly, like he might have smiled any other time but somehow wouldn’t this morning. He already has his sunglasses on so his eyes can’t give you any indication of his mood, but you still feel comforted by the easy way he slips his hand into yours, kissing the side of your head.

“You ready?”

“Let’s go,” you say, trying to muster your own smile. Rafe must not notice, because he looks like he’s a million miles from here with you as he leads you to the car.

It isn’t like you to bring things up first usually, but with Kelce’s party tonight and Thanksgiving with both of your families tomorrow, you need to be on solid ground with Rafe. And more than that, you want to be. You want to be able to lock eyes with him across any room, nudge his foot under any table or squeeze his hand in any secluded hallway, and know that you’ll make it out alive.

“Did you want to talk about the Chloe thing?” you ask, the silence too much to handle after only five minutes in the car.

“Chloe?” Rafe murmurs, sounding lost. “What?”

“You said you wanted to talk about it today, so,” you shrug, grasping for nonchalance and feeling like it’s far from your reach. “We can talk about it.”

“Oh, right,” he breathes, adjusting his grip on the steering wheel. “Alright, yeah. What did she say again?”

“I hadn’t told you what she said yet,” you remind him. “And it wasn’t really even about what she said, honestly. Maybe a little, because she seems to think about you a lot still and definitely had something to say about it—but anyway, like I said, it was more about, like—”

“Babe,” he cuts in. “If it’s important, I need you to spit it out.”

You recoil. “It’s important, Rafe. I wouldn’t bring it up if it wasn’t.”

“Then what was it?” he asks, no remorse in his tone, only frustration. “If she didn’t say anything, did she look at you wrong or something?”

You never expected Rafe to trivialize you or your feelings, no matter how many times you’d done it to yourself in the past few days, and the world outside of the car suddenly seems colder.

“No,” you snap. “It was more about the fact that she tried to hook up with you even when she thought we were dating, and you knew and still went out with her after the fact.”

Rafe seems caught off-guard. “What are you—do you mean when we were kids? When we were 17?”

“I was 16,” you add pettily. “And I didn’t say it was rational. I told you yesterday, it’s stupid.”

“Then why are we talking about it right now?” he asks, exasperated.

You can’t help but reciprocate his frustration, even if you don’t find his warranted. “Because yesterday, you said—”

“It was years ago, Y/n/n,” he interrupts.

“I’m not an idiot, I know it was,” you say. You’ve had enough at this point, and you’re more than suspicious of his suddenly rude behavior—a world of difference from the guy who snuck up to your room just last night just to tell you he loved you. “Why are you being like this?”

A muscle in Rafe’s jaw ticks, and that’s when you know he’s really upset about something. He pulls into the parking lot outside of the cafe, turning to look at you as soon as the car is in park. “Because I’m a little concerned that we’re spending so much time on bullshit that happened in high school when last night you were apparently telling your dad I’m about to quit my job so I can freeload off of you.”

You pull back, mind reeling at the abrupt topic change. “What? I didn’t tell him that.”

“Really?” he says, and you get the sense he isn’t waiting for an answer. “Then where did he get the idea that he needed to lecture me about not taking advantage of your trust fund?”

Rafe gets out of the car, leaving you speechless and scrambling to follow him. But he comes around before you can even get that far, waiting for you to get out of the passenger’s side with agitation radiating off of him in waves.

“Rafe, I never—”

He shuts the door. “When I told you I was thinking about doing something different—literally just thinking about it, Y/n—I didn’t think you’d run and tell Will.”

“We—no, Rafe,” you say, still scrambling to find your footing on the defensive. “No, we were just talking at their party. He asked about you.”

It’s hard for you to remember on the spot, and because until now it was so incredibly insignificant to you. You had a spare moment with your dad in the midst of your mom’s soiree—he asked about Rafe and his new job, so you told him.

He stuffs his hands into his pockets, his tongue in his cheek. “So you told him I might need you to bankroll my pipe dream. Got it.”

Rafe turns to enter the restaurant, and the stubborn way he holds the door open for you just angers you even more—like he knows he’s being ridiculous. The two of you join the queue, a few inches separating you. “We’re talking about this at home. We’re not gonna be that couple fighting at the bagel shop.”

“Oh, good. Maybe we can ask your dad to join,” he bites sarcastically. “Fuck it, Dylan can come too. Might as well hear what everyone thinks.”

“Rafe,” you warn, weary of anyone within earshot. It’s early enough that there aren’t many people around, but you can’t believe his behavior.

“We’ll talk at home,” he concedes.

You stand beside him in silence while the line inches forward, wracking your thoughts for anything you could’ve said that would sic your dad on Rafe like that. You were close to your dad and you shared a lot with him, but you’d never share something that would make Rafe uncomfortable; you knew how important that relationship was to him. You’d honestly just been proud to share something so exciting with him, that Rafe had recently turned a hobby into something more. That people saw what he was capable of and wanted to pay him for it—that he was starting to see himself outside of Ward’s web.

“Y/n,” he calls, and he’s standing at the register, grasping a single take-out cup. “Dylan wanted almond milk, right?”

You nod affirmatively, and he turns back to the cashier to hand it over. The rest of the order you’d called in is on the counter before him, he’d been checking it over just to make sure all of your family’s orders were correct.

“I’m sorry about that,” he apologizes, but the employee waves him off, leaving temporarily to fix it.

Rafe reaches for his wallet, and a thought occurs to you. Before you can think of it you’re reaching into your jacket pocket. “My dad gave me his card.”

Rafe scoffs gently, a disbelieving smile pulling at his lips. “I can pay for it.”

“Rafe, it’s all of my family’s stuff.”

“I wouldn’t have agreed to go get it if I wasn’t fine paying for it,” he insists, teeth nearly gritted. “Drop it.”

“That’s ridiculous—”

The cashier giving the total interrupts your bickering, and the precarious glance he casts between the two of you as he puts Dylan’s coffee back into the drink carrier makes you want to crawl out of your skin. You do the next best thing, grabbing the drinks and leaving Rafe to get the food as you stomp outside.

You’ve been pouting for a full 30 seconds before Rafe even joins you, putting the food in the back seat, and you can tell he takes one look at you and decides not to press it, not saying anything at all until you’re back in your parents’ driveway.

“I know we were gonna spend the day together,” he says quietly. “But I think we should split up after breakfast. Cool off.”

“But your sisters…”

“Will understand,” he finishes. A sad, little smile graces his lips. “And be even more excited to see you tomorrow.”

“What about Kelce’s party?” you say, grasping at anything.

“I’ll come get you,” Rafe sighs, tugging his hat off to run a hand through his hair. “Or I can meet you there, if you wanted. I just need to clear my head, baby.”

You pull out your last defense, out of desperation but also genuine worry for him. “And you’re fine to go to your dad’s alone?”

“Mhm,” he quickly answers, twirling your keys in his grip. “Did it for like 20 years, so…”

“Yeah,” you agree, swallowing your hurt when you realize he’s really serious—that even facing Ward alone isn’t enough to deter him from leaving you right now. “That’s fine. I should get to baking. Without distractions.”

“Good,” he says, finally stepping out of the car. You use the time it takes Rafe to come around to the passenger’s side to suck in a sharp, deep breath, bottling up tears so instinctual you hardly even realize they were coming before he opens your door for you.

“Good,” you agree, stepping out to follow him without meeting eyes.

—

“What’s with all the pies?”

Dylan plops unceremoniously onto the kitchen counter, almost as unceremoniously as he had strolled into the kitchen. You’d made four pies in an attempt to recreate the one Rose had loved last year, but at least you were down from your grand total of nine last year.

“Don’t ask,” you groan, rinsing the last of the dishes in the sink. Dylan sits with his side profile to you. “But take as many as you want. Just don’t touch the one in the garage fridge.”

He points at the one next to him. “What’s wrong with this one?”

“Too sweet.”

“I can live with that,” he decides fishing two forks out of the drawer beside him, passing one off to you.

“What’s up?” you ask, the two of you picking at the rejected pie.

“Nothing’s up. Why does something have to be up?”

“You don’t usually go out of your way to occupy the same space as me unless Rafe’s here. Or if I fucked up,” you add.

“Well did you? Fuck up?”

You shake your head silently, shrugging with innocence when your younger brother gives you a look. “Promise.”

He narrows his eyes, but shakes his head, too. “Your luggage came. I didn’t haul it upstairs. Rafe can get it.”

“Mm,” you murmur, distracted. “Sounds good. That it?”

He sighs roughly, a loud rush of air, tossing his fork into the pie tine. “I told Mom and Dad. About Everett.”

Your ears immediately perk up at the mention of Dylan’s new boyfriend, but you try to contain your emotions as not to spook him. “You did?”

“Yeah,” he breathes, smiling so unabashed it makes your heart melt, your own woes temporarily forgotten.

“And?” you push gently.

“You were right,” Dylan admits, rolling his eyes. “They were all over me about when they can meet him and what he’s like and what his parents do and… yeah, all of it.”

“Dyl,” you say. “I told you.”

“I know,” he sighs, scratching at Wilbur’s ear. “I know.”

“Does this mean he’s gonna come here? And we can double date?”

“You’re joking, right? He’s never coming here,” Dylan laughs at you, like it’s a dumb idea.

“Why not?” you pout.

“They’re gonna run him off,” he says. “With bloodlines and prenups and just bullshit.”

You roll your eyes, even though he’s correct. “You’ve been dating for, what, three months?”

“It’ll be four in a few days,” Dylan admits quietly, only letting you hug him for a record three seconds before he’s pushing you away.

“Look at you. They can be a lot, though,” you admit. “I probably would’ve waited until my wedding day if Rafe wasn’t from here.”

“Where’s the Rafester anyway?” Dylan says, suddenly peeking around the kitchen, like Rafe’s going to pop out of the pantry suddenly.

“Thankfully not around to hear you call him that,” you quip. “He fled.”

“Smart guy,” Dylan laughs, then looks at you in consideration. “You guys okay?”

“We’ll be alright,” you sigh, shrugging.

“Ev’s gonna have his work cut out for him. They already love Rafe so much,” your younger brother sighs, cringing lightly.

“Yeah, they do,” you say softly. “But they’ll love Everett, too. As long as he treats you right. And doesn’t have any tattoos.”

Dylan winces and your eyes widen. “They’re not visible. Easily. They’re not… easily visible.”

“Oh my god,” you cry, closing your hands over your ears. “Not my baby brother.”

“Oh, grow up,” Dylan says.

Your chuckle is cut off when a couple of texts comes through on your phone, two curt messages that make your heart speed up slightly. “Fuck.”

“What is it?” your brother asks.

“Nothing—um, nothing bad,” you amend, mind racing—any thoughts of Chloe or your dad or Dylan’s boyfriend suddenly forgotten. “I just have to get ready. Will you pretty please go get my bag?”

Dylan groans, heaving himself off of the counter anyway. “Fine.”

—

It was foolish of Rafe to think Tannyhill would offer him any kind of solace.

It was great to see his sisters, to hear about school and their friends and Sarah’s new internship and Wheezie’s college choices for the half hour alone he had with them before Ward came home, even if it had been permeated by their disappointment and worry at your absence. Which was of no bother to Ward, who seemed more cheery than normal to have Rafe alone, to get under his skin and ask about California without you around to take over, jump in, or just hold his hand under the goddamn table so he know’s he’ll be alright when all is said and done.

So it’s no wonder he ends up at the Lodge eventually. Topper wasn’t leaving Blythe’s side and Kelce was off to pick up his girl, and Rafe felt a little too raw to invite anyone else along.

So he’s alone at his hometown bar on the afternoon before Thanksgiving, because in the last 24 hours he’d transformed back into the scared little boy he always felt like he was on this island, running from everything and everyone. Running from you.

And it’s foolish of Rafe to think he ever could.

Because he’s on his third round from his favorite bartender—the one who’s been serving him since he was seventeen, who took look one look at Rafe as he’d pushed open the door at this dive and poured him his calling card—when the door swings open, spilling sunlight and a breath of fresh air into the otherwise dark space.

Your suitcase clearly made it to you at some point today, if the houndstooth mini skirt is anything to go by. It’s hidden by the long coat you’re wearing, but Rafe can tell the black turtleneck you’re wearing looks just as good on you as the sheer black tights and knee-high boots you’re wearing do. The literal definition of a tall drink of water stands before him, and every sorry soul hiding out in this shithole when they ought to be home with their wives can look, but they can’t touch.

“You found me,” Rafe starts, shifting a toothpick around in his mouth.

“Sarah said you didn’t last an hour at Tannyhill,” you respond flippantly.

“I guess I’m more surprised you came inside,” he scoffs, shaking his head. Charlie makes his way down the bar at this point, glancing at Rafe before focusing his attention on you.

“Can I get you anything?”

You shuck your coat and Rafe bristles—he’d been right about the top—throwing a significant arm over the back of your chair as soon as you seat yourself at the bar next to him.

You lean forward on your elbows, surveying the contents behind the bar before glancing at Rafe’s tumbler unsurely. “Whatever he’s having.”

Charlie raises his eyebrow and Rafe lets out a chuckle, shaking his head. “No. Vodka soda, Smirnoff or better. Anything else, don’t bother. And two limes.”

Charlie nods before he walks off to grab a bucket, and you slouch in your chair, no fight put up. “Probably shouldn’t have anything, honestly. We need to jet.”

“Why’s that?”

You roll your eyes. “Did you check your phone once today?”

He furrows his eyebrows, because he hadn’t. It’d been on do not disturb, but your notifications wouldn’t have been affected by that. “No, why?”

“It’s Kelce.”

“We’re still going to that?” he asks in wonder, because he really wasn’t sure anymore. It’d be smaller than it was in year’s past, your absence definitely more noticeable. But neither of you were one for putting on appearances, and it wasn’t exactly the easiest crowd to conceal things from anyway. He checks his watch, noting the early hour. “He’s not even having people over for a few hours.”

“He called it off,” you say, finally looking at him.

“What?” Rafe asks. Charlie comes back with your drink, and you thank him with a a sweet smile, only taking a small sip before you swirl the straw around and try to cover up a nose scrunch once his back is turned. Rafe feels something loosen in his chest, observing you sitting here in a bar you have no problem telling anyone who asks that you detest. All for him.

“Therese isn’t coming.”

Rafe leans toward you, retraining his focus on the task at hand. “To his party?”

“To the Outer Banks at all,” you say, your eyes full of emotions, ever the empath. “She cancelled her flight this morning.”

“Oh fuck,” Rafe breathes, sliding a hand over his face once it clicks. “Fuck.”

“Yeah,” you agree quietly, taking another sip, probably just to be polite. “He’s screening my calls, but I doubt he’s taking it well. Topper and Blythe are already over there.”

“We need to get out of here,” he decides, already looking for his wallet. He throws way too many bills down between both of your unfinished drinks, checking his phone for missed texts from Kelce. From Topper too, plus a few calls. None from you. “Who’s car?”

“Dylan dropped me off,” you tell him, slipping your arms into your coat when he holds it out for you. “So mine, since you took it this morning.”

Rafe winces. “Your car’s still at my dad’s. I drove my truck here.”

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

“Didn’t really plan for this scenario,” he says sheepishly.

“So, what? You were gonna drink all day and then drive yourself back to Tannyhill? And then come back over and let me get in the car with you?” you huff, turning to exit with an eye roll. Rafe races to catch up, barely catching the door when you fling it open. You stand with your arms crossed, stilling on the sidewalk, and Rafe realizes you don’t know where he parked.

Your questioning is logical, and leads Rafe to realize this is probably the only way this day would’ve ended, with you somehow making everything alright. But that’s what he’s supposed to do.

“Baby, I’m sorry,” Rafe begins, not even sure what he’s apologizing for yet. “I wasn’t thinking.”

“God, Rafe, it’s fine—I know you wouldn’t—ugh,” you sigh, aggravated. But then you reach out and take his hand. “I know we have shit going on right now, but I want to put it aside for tonight. For Kelce’s sake.”

Rafe swallows, nodding, suddenly very sober. He strokes a thumb along yours, reveling in your touch when you don’t reject him. Rafe squeezes back. “Yeah, of course.”

—

It’s a scene all too familiar to him—Kelce’s backyard, where he's sharing a short, glass-top table with Topper, the two of them lounging in a pair of matching Adirondack chairs. A few years ago, Rafe might be rolling up a joint in his lap, trying and succeeding at peer pressuring Topper into partaking with him. But things have changed, and all that sits between them is two tumblers of dark liquor, more expensive than they’d have ever spent their own money on back in the day. But both of their dads’ liquor cabinets were always fair game in both of their eyes.

And instead of perusing the backyard—discussing anyone who caught their eyes—Topper has a lapful of longterm girlfriend, while Rafe’s is just inside.

Kelce had been in a state once you two arrived tonight—weird, quiet, shutdown. Far from his usual, especially tonight, his self-proclaimed favorite day of the year. You’d taken one look and pulled him into his parents’ living room to talk it out. That was your forte, so Rafe had quietly slipped out to the yard to find solace. Besides, he wasn’t feeling too inclined to dole out relationship advice right now.

“He wouldn’t want us to feel bad for him,” Topper says, and Rafe nods along in agreement. “But I can’t help it. This shit sucks.”

“Yeah,” Rafe sighs, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees.

“She didn’t have to wait until the last second,” Blythe says, and Rafe looks over to see her shrug. “Well, it’s true. If she decided not to come today, she’d probably been hesitant for a while. She didn’t have to let him get his hopes up.”

Rafe can’t argue with that, and he wonders if this could be the end for Kelce and this girl. Because he might have a hard time moving past this one, should he ever get the chance to meet her. He knows you will.

“People get weird around the holidays,” Topper explains. “Families and whatever. It’s hard.”

“How can I forget your first time meeting my parents?” she teases. Topper’s cheeks blush red, and Rafe would push for more details if he had the emotional energy to feel invested enough.

“Babe,” Topper groans.

“Rafe, you should’ve seen him on the plane, he was—”

“Babe,” Topper insists, but with a chuckle, and his arms tightening around her, not an ounce of an edge to his tone. Rafe averts his eyes and grabs his drink, swilling it around half-heartedly before taking another longish pull.

“And what about you?”

He looks over when he realizes the question had been meant for him. “Me?”

“Yeah,” Blythe smiles timidly. “How is it being back home?”

Rafe doesn’t cut his eyes to his friend, but he’s sure Topper is panicking. Blythe had always been a little bolder than him, and in a balancing way. “S’fine. I’m staying with Y/n/n’s parents, but I saw my sisters today.”

“That’s fun,” she says, and her eyes find Topper’s. “How’s Y/n?”

Rafe smiles, sensing where this is going. “She’s just inside, if you’d like to ask her yourself.”

“Well, we just…” she trails off, looking to Topper. He looks to Rafe, his lips tucked into his teeth.

Rafe sighs, feeling his shoulder drop a few inches.

“I can leave,” Blythe offers. Rafe waves her off quickly as he downs the rest of his drink, knowing anything shared with Topper is as good as said right in front of her anyway.

“Let it out, bud,” Topper implores, and Rafe sinks further into his chair.

“Oh, fuck off. Her dad riled me up,” Rafe says, condensing his story as best he can. “About work stuff. Money stuff.”

“Yeesh,” Blythe cringes.

“You’d think I’m trying to put a ring on her finger, tomorrow, dude,” Rafe rants.

“Aren’t you?” Topper laughs, taking a sip of his own drink.

Rafe feels his eyes roll at that. “Not tomorrow.”

“Oh, sorry, next week,” he amends.

“Dude,” Rafe laughs, feeling himself start to relax slightly, wondering if his problems might not be as big as he’d made them out to be in his head. After all, Topper’s jabs were based in truth, and maybe Rafe needed to act like he was asking you to marry him tomorrow. There probably would be a ring on your finger right now, if you asked Rafe when you first started going out. But that was before quitting Cameron Development, before California, before you helped Rafe realize he had a lot of work to do on himself if he ever wanted to be half the man you or any of your future kids deserved. You were his real deal, and maybe your dad had finally called him out for not acting like it. He already knew that’s how your mom felt.

“Y/n says her dad loves you,” Blythe says, confused.

“He does,” Topper says. “So really? That’s what all of that tension in there was?”

Rafe flushes at the implication that everyone could pick up on the jilted greetings you both gave upon arrival, becoming briefly concerned of any flack he might get from Kelce later, especially given the heart-to-heart taking place inside right now. He cranes his neck, trying to spot you through a kitchen window without any luck. “Most of it. And also, super random, she ran into Chloe, I guess?”

“Chloe Merrick? From high school?”

“Mm,” Rafe murmurs, distracted and already thinking about how he can smooth things over with you later tonight. The skirt will make things difficult if he lets it, so he needs to be on point.

“Well, bud—why didn’t you lead with that?” Topper laughs.

“With what?” Rafe asks.

“With Chloe.”

“Wait, who’s Chloe?” Blythe says, her words coming out whiny.

“Rafe’s ex,” Topper supplies. “Which literally explains everything.”

Rafe furrows his eyebrows, feeling not drunk but definitely tipsy enough to render him unable to understand Topper’s reasoning. “How’s that?”

“Dude, she hates Chloe.”

“Y/n doesn’t hate anyone,” Rafe says easily, pointing at Blythe when she nods, as if to tell Topper ‘see?’

Topper scoffs. “Sometimes I forget how fucking dumb you are when it comes to Y/n/n.”

“Baby,” Blythe chides, but Rafe feels himself a disbelieving smile pulling at his own lips.

“You think I don’t know my girlfriend?” Rafe asks.

“Not all the time. Not back then,” Topper amends. “Junior year? The Hamptons?”

“Oh, don’t even fucking—”

“The Hamptons?” Blythe muses, scandalized. “What happened in the Hamptons?”

“You really wanna talk about the Hamptons?” Rafe says, taking delight in the way Topper’s cheeks burn red, like he wishes he could put the words back in his mouth.

“No, we don’t have to.”

“You brought it up, bud,” Rafe reminds him, pushing himself into a standing position. He starts winding his arms around, throwing in a stretch for the effect. “And I’ve always meant to beat the shit out of you for taking my girlfriend to dinner.”

Topper sputters momentarily. “We did not—it was not—”

“Dinner!” Blythe gasps, before smiling wickedly. “You took Y/n/n to dinner? Did you kiss her? Did you date? Did you—”

Rafe slips away silently, taking the cue he perfectly set up for himself, but not before receiving what he hopes is a good-natured glare from his best friend. The mouthed ‘I hate you’ from over the top of Blythe’s head really seals the deal.

But Topper’s implications sit funnily in his stomach, and he doesn’t like the feeling at all. He heads back inside, hoping to a higher power you’re done talking with Kelce so he doesn’t have to rip you away, because he can’t stand another minute with so much unresolved.

—

“I really thought… Y/n/n, I don’t know what I thought,” Kelce says dejectedly, his fingers interlaced, head bowed between his knees. “But I didn’t think this.”

You watch sadly as he swipes his beer off of the table, not even interested in drinking anymore, just needing something to hold. “I’m so sorry, Kelso.”

“I don’t know why this always happens to me. Like I finally find someone I like and who understands me and loves me—I thought. But she just runs.”

It’s difficult to give someone you don’t know the benefit of the doubt when they’ve put your friend—someone who you’ve already seen go through so much heartache, who’s seen you through your own—through something like this, but you try for his benefit anyway. “Maybe when you get back to Austin she’ll be able to explain, Kelce. Right? Didn’t she say she wanted to talk?”

“Does that sound like a good talk to you?” he deadpans. “‘I’m not coming to meet your family and friends, and I think we should talk when you get home?’”

“Kelce…” you say morosely, leaning into his side. “I don’t know what to say.”

“I just wish—I wish she’d told me, or that she’d come anyway. We could’ve talked, just us. Would’ve cancelled the whole fucking party and locked you all out if it was too much for her, seriously,” he says. “We could’ve worked it out.”

You hear Rafe’s soft laughter filter in through the open screen door, and something tugs in your stomach. “Even when you really love someone, Kelce, sometimes it’s just easier to run.”

He looks at you, unamused.

“I’m serious,” you say, lowering your voice. “Look at Rafe and I.”

Kelce scoffs. “Okay.”

“I mean it,” you answer, becoming impassioned. “It took us forever, and sometimes… sometimes we still fuck it up.”

“Yeah, but,” he says, actually sipping at his beer this time. “You always work it out.”

“Not always,” you murmur.

He seems surprised. “What? You talking about Rafe’s little storm cloud?”

“His what?”

“He gets like this every time he comes home, Y/n/n. Come on,” Kelce says, like you should know what he means.

“I don’t follow,” you say, leaning back into the couch, crossing your arms over your chest.

“You know what? Of course you don’t. Because you’ve never been subjected to it,” Kelce laughs. “He’s like an angsty teenager again as soon as he steps foot on this island, especially before y’all got together.”

You think back to what Rafe had said in the car this morning, how he’d casted you off and walked right into Ward’s house without you. “Think it’s more than that this time around.”

“How so?”

There’s a knock at the entryway into the living room, and then your sheepish boyfriend stepping into the frame, leaning up against it while you both gaze upon him. “Hope I’m not interrupting.”

“Never,” Kelce says, moving to stand. “I was wondering when you’d come get her. Actually starting to worry.”

You roll your eyes but you stand to, looking for your bag and your keys because you could tell Rafe was ready to head out from one look at his face.

“Kelce, man,” you hear him say. “You good? We’ll stay.”

“I’ll be alright,” Kelce sighs. “And I’ve got my hands full with Top, Blythe. Girls should be here soon, too. Wouldn’t be the first time you two left my party early.”

“Kelce,” you chastise.

“I’ll probably invite whoever didn’t make the original guest list,” he continues, returning from the kitchen with a fresh beer. “Full house. Gonna invite Sarah and John B and his friend who has a thing for Y/n. Griffin might even sniff it out. Chloe, too, since I heard she’s int own.”

“Alright,” Rafe cuts in. “We get it, Jesus.”

“You’re sure?” you say.

“Oh my god,” Kelce sighs, leaning into press a kiss to the top of your head. “Go. Both of you.”

You walk away to wait awkwardly in the entryway as they say their own goodbyes, wondering a second too late if you should’ve strained your ears harder to hear once it takes a little longer than a normal parting for the two of them.

Just as Rafe emerges into the entryway, Gretchen and Margot both pop through the front door, giggling and holding an impressive number of pink bottles in between them. They both startle when they see you, their faces transforming from glee to the opposite once they look at you for a little longer.

“Why are you wearing your coat? Take off your coat,” Gretchen demands, stomping her foot.

“We’re heading out,” you say sadly. “Kelce is in the living room.”

“Nooo,” they chorus, leaning into fuss over you.

Margot notices Rafe standing behind you then, narrowing her eyes. “Cameron.”

“Not tonight, Margot. And take it easy on Kelce, yeah?” he warns.

She looks called out, and you can practically hear the argument forming in her head. “Buddy—”

“For the love of god please take her,” you whisper to Gretchen.

“We better see you guys tomorrow night. After dessert, at mine?” she pleads, smiling when you nod. “Good. Oh—let me get a picture.”

“Gretch—”

“Rafe, get over here,” she demands, interrupting whatever quiet squabble Margot has taken up with Rafe, who looks more than relieved to take your side.

Gretchen picks up the film camera you hadn’t noticed hanging around her neck, backing up a few steps and pointing it at you both. “Pretend like you like each other, at least.”

Rafe’s arm settles around your shoulders, pulling you back into his frame, and you try your best to put a believable smile on, recalling Kelce’s words.

The flash goes off and Rafe presses a kiss into the back of your head before moving away from you, his hand falling to your back.

“That’ll work,” Gretchen says, turning to follow Margot where she stomped off, no doubt in a beeline to a grieving Kelce. “Love you guys.”

“Let’s go home?” Rafe finally asks, his voice quiet even though nobody is around to overhear him.

“Home,” you confirm, grabbing onto his hand and leading him out the door.

—

Rafe’s done a few dumb things in the last day or so, but this might be the dumbest.

The trellis below your window hadn’t changed at all, but Rafe’s ability to navigate it might. He hasn’t gone up this way in years, and it’s not as romantic as he remembers it being. Maybe it’s because now he’s groveling instead of trying to woo you, or maybe it’s because you’re not aware of his sojourn, not sticking your head out the window and looking down at him sweetly, hair flitting around you and ready to tug him over at the last step. Not tonight though, not after Rafe had sent you off to your room with nothing but a kiss to your forehead and loose promise to talk tomorrow before Thanksgiving dinner at Tannyhill.

And maybe Rafe’s just not as young as he used to be. Which is why he’s surprised to find the window open at all, allowing him to tug himself over and in, miscalculating the footing and landing on his ass, the box in his pocket stuffed under his hip awkwardly as he makes contact with the floor. “Ow.”

“Oh, thank god.”

“Babe—ow,” Rafe winces, realizing he’s probably gonna bruise as he gets to his feet. “I—you said—thought we were gonna talk in the morning.”

“Yeah,” you say weakly, from where you stand in the doorway of your bathroom, your hands twisting together. “I did.”

“But you left your window open for me?”

“Yeah,” you shrug, wrapping your arms around your midsection.

“Because you—baby, baby, don’t cry, no,” he says in surprise, heart breaking as he crosses the room to you and your wobbling bottom lip and big, sad eyes. “Hey, come here, pretty.”

“Rafe,” you cry, muffled in his shirt when he takes you into his arms. “I’m so tired of this shit. I don’t—I don’t wanna be mad at you anymore.”

“I don’t want you to be mad at me either,” he says, leading you to the chair that sits at your vanity table, helping you sit while he crouches down in front of you. “I don’t like it.”

“You usually don’t know,” you laugh, hiccuping slightly.

“Can’t argue with that,” Rafe says, using the cuff of his long sleeve to pat under your eyes softly, stroking your thigh with his other hand while you calm down. “Baby girl, you’re breakin’ my heart.”

“It’s so stupid—with Chloe, and just—I’ll talk to my dad, I promise I will,” you ramble. “Because he can’t just—he can’t. Why the fuck did we even come home?”

“Hold on, hold on. Breathe for a sec,” Rafe reminds you, pleased when you follow his lead, taking in a long, shaky breath. “Good. There you go, sweetheart.”

“I’m sorry,” you say meekly, still fielding stray tears but on the whole looking better.

“You’re good, you’re good. Do you want water?”

When you shake your head, Rafe feels good to stand, leaning up against your table, still within arms length as he strokes your back through your sleep shirt of his.

“What’s going on with Chloe?” he finally asks after a beat of silence.

You huff, but start talking when Rafe bumps your chin with his knuckle in encouragement. “I never liked her.”

“I see that now.”

“I’m glad I did such a good job of hiding it when I was younger,” you laugh dejectedly. “Thought I was so obvious.”

“Apparently I’m the only one who didn’t catch on. Even with Topper dangling you in front of me like a carrot at the Hamptons house,” Rafe says, rolling his eyes.

“He did not,” you defend.

“Oh, he did so, baby girl,” he counters, scoffing. “Are you kidding?”

“Rafe. You had a girlfriend on that trip,” you point out. “And Topper didn’t even know…”

“He knew.”

You shake your head. “No, no that can’t be right. Topper? Topper Thornton? He’s like the least likely to meddle out of all of them.”

Rafe gives you a look. “That isn’t saying much when it comes to our friends.”

You nod in consideration, your eyebrows still furrowed as you prop your head up on one of your hands.

“But, baby…” Rafe says, stroking a hand over the top of your head, his fingers digging into the hair at the nape of your neck. “You can’t still be worried about it. Not after all this time?”

“It isn’t like that anymore, Rafe. I mean, you’re a catch and I’m never gonna take that for granted,” you pause to crack a small smile when Rafe won’t let that one go so easy, tugging at the end of your ponytail, “but I’d like to think you’d never hurt me or leave me.”

“Never ever.”

“She was making comments about our lives and whatever, like she still knows you. Like she knows you better than I do,” you explain, picking at your nails. “And it pissed me off.”

“Okay,” Rafe nods, unsure if he wants to ask what she said specifically, and ultimately deciding against it. “But that wasn’t all?”

“What do you mean?”

Rafes eyes scan your face. “These aren’t angry tears. And I know you can handle stupid island gossip.”

You groan, hiding your face in your hands again. “It’s so dumb.”

“It’s not,” Rafe insists, batting them away. “Not dumber than anything I’ve been mad about today.”

“Rafe.”

“What were you talking about in the car this morning? Seriously, baby. Let me in,” he says.

“Are you making me?”

“Yep.”

You sigh one last time, sitting back in your chair with your arms crossed. “We weren’t dating. But you were still like one of my best friends, right?”

“Correct.”

“So it just… I don’t know. It sucked that you dated her, because she was perfectly fine going behind my back before she knew we were nothing.”

“We weren’t nothing, baby.”

Frustrated, you push at his knee. “Don’t be cute, you know what I mean.”

“I’m serious. I think a lot of people thought we were something, Y/n/n. In hindsight, I was pretty obvious at least,” Rafe says sheepishly.

“I know, I know,” you groan. “Which is so embarrassing by the way. That that many people knew.”

“It is, but it worked out. Just a little bit,” Rafe reminds you. You bump your knee into his leg in acknowledgement. “So what gives?”

“I don’t judge you for it anymore. I got it over it so long ago,” you recall. “In probably the worst possible way.”

Rafe hums in disapproval. “So we’re even?”

“There’s no getting even, Rafe. I don’t hold anything against you from when we were like, infants.”

“Clearly you do.”

“I don’t. I was young and emotional and just really, really confused about you,” you promise. “I don’t hold it against you, but I haven’t seen her in forever and she just got under my skin about it.”

The image of a younger you, in anyway hurt by Rafe when he was arrogant and young and stupid and above all else still totally in love with you somewhere deep in his heart before he even knew what love was is always too much for him to bare. Even when he keeps a home with you, shares a dog with you, shares a life and all of his future plans and hopes and aspirations—and shares his heart with you. Even after all of that, it hurts. “I was such a stupid kid.”

“You weren’t,” you tell him, your hand taking a place on his knee again, maroon-painted nails digging into the skin under his shorts. “This is why I didn’t want to talk about it, because it’s just stupid teenage insecurities that I still let get the best of me sometimes. She started talking about how I’m your cookie cutter Figure 8 dream, and your dad, and then when you flipped about my dad—”

Rafe finally digs deep into his pocket, at a loss for his own words but one-thousand-percent sure he can’t sit here and listen to you doubt him or yourself anymore, setting the velvet box down on your vanity with authority.

Your words die in your throat, and you take one glance at the box before closing your eyes. “I know you’re not doing this while we’re talking about Chloe Merrick.”

“I’m not doing that,” he says, hoping you don’t actually ever think he’d propose marriage while standing taller than you, while standing at all. “Jesus, baby.”

“Then what—” you reach your hand out, then retract it, doe eyes staring up at him timidly. “Can I?”

“Open it.”

You gently pry it open, setting it back on the desk once you can see inside, recognition crossing your features. “You found your ring?”

“I found your ring,” he says as he plucks the gold band out of the box, grabbing your hand. “Actually never lost it.”

“What are you… wait, why does it fit me?” you wonder, once Rafe can stronghold your fidgeting enough to get it down your ring finger. On the right hand, he’s not psychotic. “Rafe, why does it fit me?”

“You know Wren’s friend Stephen?”

“Yeah,” you answer, flexing your hand, marveling at the ring’s new size.

“Well, he’s a blacksmith, right? And your birthday was coming up…” he shrugs, bashful now, after all of his brevity. “We melted it down. I thought I knew your size, but I swiped that little silver twisty one you always wear when you were sleeping—just to be sure.”

“Rafe.”

“And then it really wasn’t that hard—but it was so cool, baby, he like let me hold it and everything while he worked the metal, and I have pictures, if you want—”

“You melted your gold band.”

“Yes.”

“So I could wear it.”

“Correct.”

“The one you’ve been wearing since we were teenagers.”

“The very one.”

You twist the ring around on your finger, sliding it right up to your knuckle and seeing how it doesn’t give easily, how it was made to fit your finger. You work it off anyway, sliding it to the ring finger on your other hand. Your left hand. “Rafe.”

“You like it?”

“You know you can’t take this back, right? Like you can’t just—”

“I know, sweet girl, kinda the point—there’s even a seam if you really look. But it’s yours now.”

Rafe can forgive himself for the way your eyes well up, because he surmises that this time they’re happy tears—even though he’ll always hate making you cry. “I swear I was gonna save it for your birthday. Or Valentine’s.”

You sniffle. “I love it. I’m glad you didn’t save it. You’ve just been carrying it around?”

He shrugs. “Wanted it close. I felt so bad when you were as upset as you were it was missing.”

“I should’ve known you didn’t lose it in the ocean,” you grumble.

“And now you won’t either,” he quips. “I love you. Don’t worry about the bullshit. Seriously, baby.”

You stand up then, and you two fit perfectly when your arms wrap around his waist, and his fall around your shoulders. “What about my dad?”

Rafe sighs, stroking a hand up and down your back, fingers catching on your tank top. “Let’s head to bed.”

You narrow your eyes, pulling out of his hold.

“Okay,” you agree, reaching for a tub of lotion on your bedside table, before leaning in for a quick kiss. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“I scaled the wall,” Rafe explains, watching you rub lotion into your arms lackadaisically, barely paying him mind anymore. “And it's one a.m.”

“Hm, better be careful on your way back down,” you say, moving onto your legs, tantalizing him. “You always said that one rung at the bottom is getting faulty.”

Worse and worse every time he uses it, and he won’t make it any worse tonight. “You don’t want me to stay?”

“This bed is for people who express their feelings,” you say, burrowing yourself under the covers. Rafe sighs, finally kicking off his shoes, moving them to the corner so you won’t claim a tripping hazard.

“Shove over,” he grunts, slipping in behind you once he unplugs your lights and makes sure your window is shut.

When you remain stubborn, Rafe uses an arm around your waist to move you over himself, grinning when you squeal in delight. “Rafe.”

“I told you to shove over. You’re gonna wake up your brother,” he chastises.

“He’s probably up late. Talking to Ev,” you say, sounding swoony. “I think he’s two hours behind, maybe three? Young love.”

Rafe presses a kiss into the back of your head, using his free hand to trace the shell of your ear, tucking a few wayward strands behind it. “We used to be like that.”

“You were so cute, pretending you weren’t falling asleep on FaceTime,” you say wistfully. “Miss that.”

“I don’t,” Rafe says.

“No? The window entrance was a little nostalgic tonight.”

“You really didn’t think I was coming?”

Your shrug moves your body against his, and Rafe laces his free hand through yours. “I mean, I put the dogs with Dylan so they wouldn’t bark, but I dunno. This is one of those things that just makes you shut down.”

He hides his head between your shoulder blades. “I don’t mean to.”

“I know,” you say, struggling to turn around in his grip, getting a hand under his chin once you do. “But I hate when you push me away.”

“I don’t mean to,” he repeats.

“I know.”

“I think your dad was right.”

The understanding immediately leaves your face, and you pause your petting. “What?”

He kisses your forehead slowly, buying himself time before looking back down at you. “He was. Kinda. I need to get my shit together.”

“Rafe, no…” you shake your head. “No. You don’t have to listen to him.”

To Rafe, it’s as simple as the fact that he does have to. But you wouldn’t stand to hear any of that. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. You had your entire life mapped out until a few months ago,” you say. “You don’t need to have everything figured out right now.”

“Sooner the better,” he mumbles, mind reeling as he thinks back to Topper’s sentiments from earlier, about how he pictured a different ring on your finger at this point. It makes him feel better that you’re currently tracing it with your thumb anyway, knowing you normally take your jewelry off before bed but you didn’t tonight. “He’s never gonna let me get serious with you until I do.”

“Did you discuss my dowry with him, too?”

“Y/n/n,” he sighs.

“I’m gonna wear this to dinner tomorrow,” you decide, turning to face away from him again. “Give him a fucking heart attack.”

“Just let me know so I can go to my dad’s first.”

It’s quiet between you two after that, until you clear your throat. “How was that today?”

“You found me at the Lodge.”

He can practically hear you pouting as you pull his arm tighter around you. “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault,” Rafe reminds you. “He just… you know how he is. I shouldn’t have gone at all, ‘cause I know he’s probably thinking a million different things about us right now.”

“Who cares what he thinks? Or what my dad thinks?”

Rafe does, and he knows you do, too. Maybe not as much, so he just lets the question hang there, suspended in the air.

“I don’t want you to feel like you don’t have a home here babes,” you say quietly. “You do. My dad just… I think he really cares about you. He’s probably had the same conversation with Dylan.”

Rafe squirms. “I don’t know.”

“Do you want me to talk to him?”

“For the love of god, no,” Rafe says, smiling a little when your laugh shakes your whole body against his. Rafe left a company for you, but he doesn’t ever want you to be in a situation like his. Because some fathers didn’t love their kids, but yours loved you. “I will.”

“Good enough for me,” you murmur, angling your chin just so to ask for a kiss. Rafe meets you halfway, but lets his head hit the pillow beneath him when you posture your own body over him, your leg slotting between his.

“Mm, baby,” Rafe murmurs in surprise, accepting a trail of neck kisses while he guides your leg over his lap completely, your knees bracketing his hips. “Baby.”

“Hm,” you hum, pushing yourself up on your hands, gazing upon him in a way that makes his heart seize.

“We’re in your parents’ house,” Rafe practically whispers.

You shrug, making to move off. But that’s not what Rafe wanted, not at all, so his hands flex on your hips to keep you firmly in place. “You gonna let me off?”

“Well I didn’t say that.”

—

“I could get my CPA.”

You cut your eyes to Rafe where he’s walking beside you, both of your breath visible in the early morning chill. “Do you want your CPA?”

“Good money.”

“Insane hours,” you point out.

“Used to that,” he grunts.

“True. Well, if you want to…”

He shrugs, gripping Captain’s leash a bit harder when he almost gets tangled with Wilbur for the umpteenth time that morning. “Or I could get my MBA, too. I originally wanted to go right into it after undergrad.”

“Really?” you ask, coming to a stop when Wilbur wants to wander off and sniff for a while, Captain following behind him. “Since when?”

“Freshman year. Decided against it senior year.”

“Really?” you reaffirm, continuing when he nods. “Why? Not because of us.”

It isn’t a question, because Rafe knows you’d never let him do something so rash.

“I didn’t wanna be away from you anymore,” Rafe says, to your surprise. “It would’ve factored into where I went, for sure. Just like it would now.”

“Rafe,” you say, confused. “Why have you never… you could’ve gone anywhere you wanted. You should, still. But why… oh.”

“You’re right though,” Rafe says, ignoring the Ward of it all completely. It’s a dead horse to him, the way Ward controlled his life for so long. Forcing him back home after graduation is child’s play. “I should still. I could.”

“Do you wanna?” you ask, shifting Wilbur’s leash behind your back when he walks further off, and eventually following after him to the bush he’s intent on investigating, still glancing back at Rafe when he speaks.

“Not right now,” he says. “I knew what I wanted to do back then. I knew why I wanted to be in school.”

“Right, no, yeah,” you assure him. “But if we ever needed to move… way ahead of myself?”

“Miles. Lightyears,” Rafe smiles, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of your head, eyes still bleary from a night of not enough sleep for either of you, followed by a prompt exit the minute you heard movement in the house. “But I appreciate the sentiment.”

“College Rafe was such a vibe,” you sigh wistfully, reminiscing. “Bring him back.”

“Chill,” he laughs. “I could work finance anywhere. Get a job in tech on some 55th floor in the city. 401k match, stock options.”

You furrow your eyebrows at the second time he brings up money. “Do you want a job in tech?”

Another shrug. “Your dad does pretty well.”

“Rafe…”

“I don’t have the same safety net I used to, baby. I walked away from all of this,” he says softly, almost under his breath, the old build homes you’re surrounded by suddenly feeling bigger and taller, the lawns more manicured and the cars shinier, the eyes in the windows more prying. “And I’m so happy I did. But I wanna give you everything you deserve. I wanna give it to our kids.”

“Rafe,” you tut, stuffing Wilbur’s leash into his hand so you can wrap him in your arms, your cheek smushed into his jacket. “You’re going to. I’m gonna be here while you figure it out.”

“I hate not having everything figured out,” he whispers. “I felt like I always did.”

“Even before you had me?” you venture, tilting your head back to look up at him.

He smirks, looking down at you, ignoring the tug on his arm coming from the leashes. “Maybe not everything.”

“S’what I thought,” you murmur, calves stretching with the strain to reach up and kiss him. He meets you halfway.

“A year ago, I was telling you to quit your job,” Rafe says. “Remember that? That’s how sure everything was.”

You fake wretch, and Rafe hooks an arm around your neck, pulling you into him so he can press kisses wherever possible.

“You’ve come so far,” you tease, batting him away half-heartedly.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket between you and Rafe groans, knowing you have to pull away in case it’s family. You do so reluctantly, reaching to tug it out of your pocket.

“How much time do we have?” Rafe sighs, assuming it’s Dylan or your parents wondering when you’ll be back. But it isn’t.

“No, it’s—Gretchen sent me our picture. From last night,” you say, eyes trailing over your faces. Rafe’s arm sits around your shoulders, where he’d half-heartedly pulled you into his body at her command. His head rests against yours, but the smiles on both of your faces don’t reach your eyes.

Rafe cranes his neck to look at it, humming a short noise before looking away. “We look…”

“A little bit miserable,” you finish, laughing lightly.

“Very,” he agrees.

You groan, your head falling to his chest as you feel the dog leashes start to tangle around you, effectively cementing you to your boyfriend. “M’so glad we moved.”

“I kind of suck here,” Rafe admits, laughing when look up at him incredulously. “I do!”

“You better figure out how to not suck here, Rafe Leopold.”

“It’s a miracle we ever found the time to fall in love on this island,” he marvels. “We’re doing Friendsgiving in California next year, by the way."

“I know you want our kids to have OBX summers one day,” you accuse.

“They will. And we’ll pick ‘em back up from the airport in September,” he jokes.

You push at his chest and almost send yourself falling back into the grass as you do so, forgetting your current predicament. He clutches you to him, a hand wrapped around your wrist.

“Careful, baby, Jesus,” Rafe laughs, holding your hand for balance while you attempt to untangle you both from the leashes. “You got it?”

“Think so,” you huff, sighing in relief when you’re finally freestanding, one of two separate leashes clutched in your free hand.

“Still wearing it?” Rafe says.

“Hm?”

He tugs on your ring finger, fingers catching on the gold band you have no plan to take off soon.

“I told you, no take-backs,” you joke, falling into step with him again while he clutches your left hand. “By the way, you know you only get one more ring, right?”

His neck flushes pink, from the parts left uncovered by his jacket. “I think I know which one you’re talking about.”

“You do,” you tell him, bumping into him sideways. “And if the next time you pull out a velvet box, it’s not that one—”

“Oh, come on,” he says. “You didn’t actually think—in your childhood bedroom with Dylan next door—I was wearing basketball shorts.”

You giggle. “No, no. I didn’t for more than a second.”

“Really?”

Now you get to feel embarrassed, ducking away from his mischievous eyes when you feel heat creep up your own neck. “No. I don’t know, Rafe. It’s a little velvet box. We’ve been dating for years.”

“Sweetheart,” he coos, throwing an arm around your shoulders, pressing a kiss into the side of your head.

“Shut up,” you mumble.

“I wasn’t even kneeling.”

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