#fuck u work I'm on vacation
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I'm on vacation, bitch. FINALLY.
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the way one (1) small comment abt sth money-related will trigger my financial anxiety so hard that I'll spiral for several days
#tf when u realize you'll probably always struggle financially just bc of what u were born into!#i thought it'd get better once i work#but now i have to pay for all of this apartment stuff which means i'll basically have to start over w saving money#& i'll have to pay a shit ton back for student loans in two years!#and when i got student loans i couldn't save up that much money either bc if i had a certain amount of savings#my student loan would've been cut!#it's all so fucked that ppl w lesser incomes are basically always doomed to have little income#i'm! stressed#i just want to go on vacation once#i thought i could bext year but w the way things are looking rn i'll have to spend another two years w/o ever going on vacation#funnnnnn
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boss: are you okay????
me:
#i'm fine why do u ask#i haven't gotten a lunch in 3 weeks#the few very very few times I've asked for help i've gotten nothing#just to be yelled at bc i'm not working fast enough and customers are getting fucked over#my work station is COSNTANTLY utilized by other people and even on my days off I am not taking days off!!!!!1!!!!#fucki#if you have to see the business you're employeed at on the days off#you're not taking vacation#SO I WONDER ANNE#AM I OKAUY#YOU JUST FUCKIN MISGENDERED ME AGAIN
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every day i thank heaven that i like my job
#or i'd literally be in unspeakable places*#(*the psychiatric ward)#bc like i'm already struggling so much but. it's more Life and personal stuff while if anything#going to work is a break from all the depression etc etc#ik that sounds insane okay i let capitalism win etc etc lol yeah i do rly like my job it's such a blessing and privilege#like it's tiring as anyone near me lately has heard me say it is#especially lately bc like i haven't had a proper holiday since starting this job (and even before lol) in may so u know. im tired#and sometimes it really is a lot like lately it's been stressful ngl#but. idk. i always do like doing it at the end of the day like as i leave our office w my coworkers im like im so glad it's done bc#im so tired. but im gonna be ready to come back tmrw and deal w this godforsaken client again!!!!#idk why im writing this here instead of like. resting my eyes bc theyre soooo fucking tired after all the data entry checking 😵💫#but yeah whatever i like my job and im so glad i do bc life is hard enough already#i dont need to hate my job on top of everything else#btw going on vacation at the end of this week 🙏#it's only 2 days + its w my family so DJVJBMSKBM praying they dont act up too much#but it's still a vacation at the end of the day like. a break from the usual routine a different place and hopefully i can rest#enough oversharing i think i need to forereal rest my eyes 😭😭
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oh boy school tomorrow! I missed 8 classes. I missed 2 work shifts. I missed 2 exams and a quiz. I have an essay due and I don't know when. I have accounting homework due tomorrow. I have a lab report due tomorrow. I have 2 days of lab to complete in 1 and I work immediately after lab (so can't stay after). I woke up at 10am and my first class tomorrow starts at 9 which means I have to be up at 7:45 and there's no chance I fall asleep before midnight tonight
#i'm kind of hoping i test positive tomorrow morning so i don't have to deal with all this#at the very least just tomorrow so I can skip my long work shift and still be able to take my exams on friday#if i miss tomorrow all i'd miss is a quiz and ofc 3 more fucking classes#edited to say no nevermind bc i have to take a quiz AND an exam tomorrow. please test negative thank u <3#but im still symptomatic so we'll see. maybe i'll be positive maybe these are just lingering symptoms#the problem is that my insurance doesnt cover covid tests and they cost 15 bucks each#which is a lot when you have to get 2 or 3 at a time AND you have to get groceries today too#but i think i'll be fine because dad gave me extra money with my rent money and my first paycheck should be coming soon#it sucks that i mindlessly scrolled the entire quarantine bc now its ending and im like. i havent made music or played that much video game#and now its back to the grind and i got this vacation and it wasnt even good for me#covid post#good news though we can retire the covid post tag and honestly i felt like i posted a very normal amount#okay. gotta make some quizlets and email some teachers
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i HATE needing to do things
#venus ambassador give us a post#trying to get assistance so i don't die and it's truly such a pain in the ASS GOOD LORD#they're mad i'm not working enough so they want me to go back to the class to learn to get a job#except that i have a job and was also trying to pick up shifts back at my old job bc hours got cut Massively#and idk when i'm able to work again. but they gotta ask me 300 questions on what jobs i'm looking for#like am not looking for jobs i have a job i'm just between a rock and a hard place and that's why i need the assistance. thank u so much#shout out to me literally snapping and applying for unemployment earlier and realizing that means i have good cause LOL#ALSO GREAT NEWS! my manager wasn't ghosting me she's on vacation. bad news i still don't know what the fuck is going on#as far as MY schedule. my other manager is also on vacation and i think he's mad at me LOL#but everyone else there wants me back so bad and i know they will go to bat for me but now i'm just sitting here waiting smile#NIGHTMARE NIGHTMARE NIGHTMARE! I LOVE BEING POOR AND LIVING IN POVERTY!!
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one sentence summaries of every TMA episode
(1-60 i'll add more soon)
part 2 up!
world's most effective anti-smoking PSA
man DOES NOT open coffin. everyone claps.
woman is judgemental towards neighbor even though she has hobbies that are just as weird.
book makes multiple people fall off chair.
man finds bag of teeth and decides he absolutely needs to fuck around and find out.
worm sti.
there was a SCARY MAN in the WAR.
fuck this tree
well at least ted bundy was a great father :)
i'm like 55% sure vampires are real and i'm willing to take those odds
bitches be dying. you're next.
we kill this man because he made the soda too warm.
sorry ur husband's dead. maybe get some help.
Unbox with me ! (GONE WRONG)
hah i'm safe from this one because i have decided to Never Go Into a Cave Ever.
man is so annoying about this spider that even his cat can't be bothered
man's bully finds a book about a Bone Turner and subsequently begins turning people's bones.
this guy sucks at DIY home improvement
aw maybe this priest didn't do anything THAT bad!
oh fuck nevermind
THE SKY ATE MY SON.
the worms stole my identity. i haven't left the house in days.
man beats german children at game of bravery and wins a coin (he later loses this coin)
my ex boyfriend gets casted in the muppets and dies
sorry mom, i've abandoned jesus for a new religion : jesus in the dark.
tall squiggly and HANDsome
old man arm wrestles demon through door knob
the buzzfeed unsolved guys finally catch a ghost but it's their sound tech
immortality but at what cost
working at the big meat factory was so traumatizing it made me vegetarian
i go to america and get almost killed by a furry
well if you love that wasp nest so much why don't you MARRY it (and then she did)
antisocial boat crew bands together to exclude one guy from a midnight party. he dies from the rejection.
bone apple teeth
remember when that norwegian guy threw a tantrum about us not digging a hole? turns out we were right to not dig that hole.
babe come over my parents have taken ill and passed away
man fucks around and it costs him everything
HOMOPHOBIC CHINESE VASE
oh god oh fuck the worms are here
thank you for participating in worms! please rate your wormsperience from 1 to 10.
the wormsperience has left me deeply scarred. i'm going to get lost in a tunnel about it.
🎸music makes me loose control🎸
spooky stories to tell at the next police slumber party
child threatens to run away and join the circus one too many times, and now the circus has come to cash in.
these mosquitoes are mad sus
man frequents local barnes and noble and then dies(?) after liking a book too much.
realtor gets eaten by the backrooms twice. it's a terrible shame.
both me and this weird goth dude have an unsatisfying italy vacation
guy who turns people's bones gets a new job where he continues to turn people's bones.
man who should never be allowed to build prisons builds a prison.
Something Big Is In The Water.
what if u heard me about 15 feet behind you fumbling around and calling out ur name 😳 (and we were both prison guards)
i'm going to be honest i didn't retain anything from this episode except that this guy has the silliest old man voice ever
everybody hates the tax man, including these creepy taxidermy animals
hmmgh. ant house.
so turns out being only 55% sure that vampires are real in my career as a vampire hunter has had some consequences.
the only thing keeping you company in space is your abandonment issues
🎶 the snack that smiles back 🎶 (my husband!)
maybe the real treasure was the house siblings we encased in spider web along the way.
your dead brother wrote books about ancient myths and WHAT
Part 2
#i hope this convinces you to listen to tma#podcast#the magnus archives#martin blackwood#tma#jon sims#sasha james#podcasts#gay podcasts#tim stoker#elias bouchard#peter lukas
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"i'm protecting my turf in my own way."
A 'PERKS OF BEING A HOUSEHUSBAND' DRABBLE.
pairing: min yoongi x reader
plot: the (mis)adventures of retired gangster min yoongi as he leaves behind the life of the mafia and navigates the way of the househusband.
warnings: the way of the househusband au, marriage au, crack, domesticity, yoongi unintentionally adopts an apprentice :O
masterlist + disclaimers.
note: in case u didn't know, i'm still currently on my aug-oct vacation (see details in pinned post!) and this post was scheduled in advance :> i has fun with this one 😂 hope u enjoy it and leave ur thoughts about it <3
Yoongi hates Wednesdays.
Wednesdays are usually when his favorite grocery store gets deliveries for fresh produce, and since they're freshly restocked, they tend to price them incredibly high. He usually counters this by using a gift card but then he remembers how he gave away his last remaining gift card to the two policemen from before.
So, yeah, Yoongi hates this particular Wednesday. But he carries on because your fridge is running low on food and he needs to do his weekly grocery run.
He's strolling down the sidewalk, signature 'poodle' apron on and mesh tote bag on his shoulder. He's about a block away from the store when he sees a familiar face.
A face from his past. With blonde hair and a boxy smile.
"Taehyung?"
"Hyung-nim?!"
Taehyung looks at him in shock, his face roughed up and bruised, before practically bursting with tears in relief. He runs up to Yoongi and wraps him in a hug.
"Hyung-nim! It's really you!"
"Don't hug me."
Taehyung pulls away. "Where are you going?"
"On an assignment."
Yoongi pats him on the back before moving to continue his walk to the grocery store. Curious and excited, Taehyung follows him, chatting his ear off.
"Where've you been, hyung? Since you disappeared, the gang's practically in shambles. I've tried looking for you everywhere. Oh, and what's this assignment you're talking about? Is it important—"
Yoongi cuts him off when they arrive at the store's entrance.
"It's very important. And I'm gonna need your expertise."
Taehyung gulps.
"Of course, hyung-nim. Let me help."
Yoongi smiles manically.
"Good. Now let's get to work."
Taehyung fully expected to do some dirty work. In the past, Yoongi always used to ask for his expertise with the computer and other tech stuff. What he didn't expect was for Yoongi to ask him for his expertise on fruit.
"Choose the freshest ones, Taehyung. I trust your judgment."
They stand before the strawberries section, and after a quick discussion about how a strawberry's leaves help tell whether they're ripe or not, Yoongi tells him to choose the best strawberries that can be made into homemade jam.
Taehyung rubs his eyes, looks at his former gangmate, then rubs his eyes again. He stares at the grocery cart full of fresh produce, toilet paper, scented candles, fabric conditioner, and dog food, among others. His eyes then move to his former gangmate's 'poodle' apron and the mesh tote bag on his shoulder.
"What the fuck is this?" he asks, his blood boiling.
"What are you talking about?"
"What the fuck are you doing, hyung-nim?" Taehyung's voice starts to rise. "What's all this? What are you doing playing house?"
He grabs Yoongi by the collar and tries to shake him but his former gangmate remains sturdy.
"The Agust D we know would never be caught dead doing all this, so what the fuck are you doing?!"
And the Agust D that Taehyung knows would've blown up and retaliated by now with how the younger man is treating him. But this Yoongi just grabs Taehyung's hands and pulls them away from his collar.
"Taehyung," Yoongi says calmly, "I'm done with all that."
"W-What?"
Yoongi fixes his top and straightens his apron out.
"I'm a househusband now."
Taehyung gapes at him.
"I'm protecting my turf in my own way," he continues. "You can't protect what's sacred to you through violence."
What?!
Then Taehyung still doesn't understand even when Yoongi makes him help put everything away in the different cupboards. And Taehyung still doesn't understand even when Yoongi makes him help cook up some homemade strawberry jam.
Taehyung doesn't understand.
But Yoongi doesn't give him time to understand before he's finishing up the grocery run and making the younger man help him carry the grocery bags back to the apartment.
But Taehyung finally understands everything when you arrive.
"Yoonie! I'm home!"
Taehyung sees you walk through the front door, greeting your husband hello and asking him where your poodle is. He sees you, all pretty and charming, being doted on by your ex-gangster husband. He sees you, a goddess with ethereal beauty, make someone like Yoongi, who he thinks of as a god, cater to you and respond to your every whim.
Taehyung understands now.
Agust D never really disappeared. He just found a new master to serve.
COPYRIGHT 2023. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
#bts x reader#min yoongi x reader#yoongi x reader#bts suga x reader#agust d x reader#bts fic#bts imagines#min yoongi fic#min yoongi imagines#yoongi fic#yoongi imagines#bts suga fic#bts suga imagines#agust d fic#agust d imagines#bts x you#bts x y/n#min yoongi x you#min yoongi x y/n#yoongi x you#yoongi x y/n#bts suga x you#bts suga x y/n#agust d x you#agust d x y/n#cat.writes
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anything with Trevor Zegras I’m begging girl!
˒ ⌕ HOCKEY BOYFRIEND
parings: trevor zegras x hughes!reader
summary: that one where you're jack hughes' twin sister and post about your relationship with trevor on insta.
an: I've been working on this smau for TWO days because tumblr kept deleting everything I wrote when I hit return? I have no idea what was going on.
( last work || go to main masterlist )
private account
liked by yourroommate, your_ex and 108 others
ynhughes I say yes, obviously 🙄
56 comments
trevorzegras fuck , I'm so in love with you.
yourbestie wait WHATS THAT??!??
⤷ ynhughes u already know luv
⤷ yourcollegebestie you didn't tell us, you sneaky!
⤷ ynhughes I did tell you! I called you seconds after we had our first kiss.
⤷ jackhughes WHAT?
⤷ lhughes_06 It's been a while, jack, relax.
⤷ jackhughes how did you know and I didn't??? I'm her twin!
⤷ lhughes_06 I'm the favorite brother 🤩.
⤷ ynhughes actually, it's quinn.
⤷_quinnhughes I KNEW IT.
trevorzegras OMG, you're my girl.
⤷ ynhughes and you're my hockey player.
⤷ jackhughes stop with this sweetness. ynhughes stop being bitter, jack.
jackhughes can’t believe that u aren’t single anymore.
⤷_quinnhughes me too.
⤷ lhughes_06 same.
⤷ ynhughes you guys are jealous 😤
yourcollegebestie your ex liking the post 😅
⤷ yourbestie lol 😂
⤷ ynhughes going to block him now, I forgot about him 🥴
⤷ yourbestie he's going to want to fight trevor.
⤷ yourcollegebestie he's calling the UMICH football team to help.
⤷ yourbestie 'cause no UMICH guy can date you now that you were my exgirlfriend.'
⤷ lhughes_06 that guy was a suck, I warned you.
⤷ ynhughes well, that's why he's an ex.
edwards.73 now it all makes sense why she didn't want to hang out with us anymore, ditching friends and parties for a MAN.
⤷ markestapa what a letdown y/n/n 🤧
⤷ ynhughes he's not just any man, he's MY MAN.
⤷ lhughes_06 what do you mean you guys hang out without me and with my sister?
⤷ lucca.fantilli she's cooler than you.
⤷ lhughes_06 NO SHE AREN’T.
⤷ rutgermcgroarty yes, she is!
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ynhughes weekend at the lake house with the ice boys.
67 comments
rutgermcgroarty jack having more photos than her boyfriend 🤣.
⤷ ynhughes he's the favorite brother of the week.
⤷ lhughes_06 u said that I was.
⤷ ynhughes that was before you ate all of my chocolate stash.
yourbestie and no photos for us to make memes of them?
⤷ ynhughes unfortunately, none.
trevorzegras 7 million smiles, and yours is my favorite.
⤷ ynhughes I love you, ice man 🩵
jackhughes I want a credit for the photo I took.
⤷ ynhughes I want credit for all the non-hockey photos you post then 😙
yourbestie miss you girls 🤧
⤷ yourcollegebestie you should have come too 🥺
⤷ ynhughes let's go out just us next summer 💃💃💃
markestapa you don't post a picture with us.
⤷_quinnhughes we're more important 😎
edwards.73 are you holding a hamster?
⤷ ynhughes yessss, his name was mr. bernard.
⤷ rutgermcgroarty aww, how cute.
⤷ lhughes_06 what an ugly name.
⤷ jackhughes ugly guy is you, not the mr. bernard
⤷ ynhughes and that's why my favorite brother is jack, not you, luke.
⤷ jackhughes thanks sis love you too, y/n/n.
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ynhughes missing hawaii and my boy who's now all about hockey. why did I start dating a hockey player anyway?
82 comments
trevorzegras cause you love me.
yourroommate still can't believe you guys traveled in secret.
jackhughes stop kissing my twin sister.
⤷ trevorzegras sorry, jack, but NO.
_quinnhughes mom sends kisses and asks how's college.
⤷ ynhughes sent a thousand back to her and tell her that college is amazing (I cry every night 😅
yourbestie how is it possible you don't look bad in ANY photo??
⤷ ynhughes LOOK WHO'S TALKING, I've never seen a bad shot of you.
lhughes_06 stop making me feel alone 😭
trevorzegras missing those vacations too
⤷ ynhughes i missing you more 😕
yourcollegebestie stop stalling and let's go out now, we're already late for the party, pretty!
⤷ ynhughes putting on my heels now!
normal account
liked by jackhughes , hockeywags and 54,789 others
thehughesgirl at least he plays against my brothers, but that's the least of it.
comments were limited
trevorzegras you are art, you are the stars and the sky, you are everything.
⤷ thehughesgirl I’m so in love with you.
#🏒. — hockey works ⋆∴#trevor zegras x you#trevor zegras oneshot#trevor zegras x oc#trevor zegras x y/n#trevor zegras fanfic#trevor zegras fic#trevor zegras x reader#trevor zegras fluff#trevor zegras imagine#trevor zegras#jack hughes x you#jack hughes x oc#jack hughes headcanons#jack hughes one shot#jack hughes x reader#luke hughes x y/n#luke hughes#luke hughes x reader#quinn hughes#quinn hughes x reader#ethan edwards x you#ethan edwards x y/n#mark estapa x reader#rutger mcgroarty#rutger mcgroarty x reader#hockey x you#hockey x reader#hockey imagine#hockey fic
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mdni pls n ty
rich husband!toji who literally showers you with gifts 24/7. there hasn't been a time when you haven't come home to a huge (literally gigantic, like these) bouquet of your favorite flowers.
rich husband!toji who can't keep his hands to himself when he sees you come home from your maintenance day n sees you w new lashes, a new hairstyle, n a fresh mani-pedi as he kisses you all over n showers you w compliments telling you how lucky he is to have married the most stunning woman in the entire universe.
rich husband!toji who constantly shows you off at company events, he wants to make sure that everyone there knows just who you are and who you belong to.
rich husband!toji who takes you on luxurious vacations to the most exotic destinations n there's literally no point bc he fucks u so good over the terrace of you guys's vacation home that ur left unable to walk properly for most of your vacation :(
authors note: so um im really new to writing, might delete this LOL but i just wanted to give it a shot. theres not much here but i have another draft w a bit more that ive been working on but i'm like my own worst critic so we'll see lolz ALSO constructive criticism or like advice is welcome : )
#toji x reader#toji x black reader#toji x y/n#toji smut#toji fushiguro#fushiguro toji#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#jujustsu kaisen x reader#༊*·˚ 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐳 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬
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Hey! Your social media fics are so freaking cute, I love them so much 🥹 If you do take requests, could you please do one which is Charles x singer!reader (who's pretty famous, on like a Taylor Swift or Selena Gomez level) announcing their relationship or just like a random vacation post? Thank you so much, I hope I didn't make the request too long <33
relationship release 💿
pairing: charles leclerc/fem!singer!reader
type: instagram imagine/social media au
notes: tysm for requesting this, anon 🤍 my first time doing a request so i hope you like it! used hailee steinfeld for the faceclaim :') not revised so please expect errors hehe lmk what u think!
about: you and charles go public just in time for your album release!
yourusername
liked by taylorswift, zendaya, charles_leclerc, and 3,582,918 others
yourusername A photo dump to commemorate the busiest months of my life 📷 from recording my new album (which I am very excited for you guys to hear), taking time for myself, to rehearsing for my world tour. Grateful to be doing what I am passionate about every single day of my life ❤️
zendaya You look amazing, can't wait for the album, love! 💋💋
y/nqueen MAM DID U JUST SOFT LAUNCH A MAN
filmsy/n ik what the fuck she did not just casually drop a soft launch in the middle of the noise of her new album 😭
popgirlsz Am I seeing this right or is the queen of pop in a relationship....
selenagomez Excited for the tour ❤️ Will be in front row for sureeee
singzqueen THIS IS NOT A DRILL SHE HAS A BOYFRIEND OH MY GODDDD
f1fan Oh my god Charles liked? Maybe hes the guy 🫣
popthusiast u reaching too much lmaooo maybe hes just a fan
yourusername
liked by ashleybenson, florencepugh, billieeilish, and 3,981,234 others
yourusername My new album Red Letters comes out in 3 days. ❤️ It has been an incredible journey working on this masterpiece and I cannot wait for you guys to enter the pages of the stories I want to share. Red Letters is all about being wrapped in a heart-shaped dynamic, letting an amalgamation of sensations embrace us as we finally let love in.
As for me, well, loving him has always been red.
florencepugh Loving everything already and it's not even out yet! Such amazing work you've done ❣️
taylorswift My girl ❤️
popgirly/n girlie telling us her new album is about love after soft launching a week ago oh i cant breathe
lanadelslays She knows how to keep us on the hook 😭
yn4ever "Loving him has always been red" QUEEN WHAT DOES THIS MEAN
popfan21 guy lucky as hell imagine being talked about like that... by y/n... living his best life fr
ynlover THE PICTURE IS SO CUTE TOO THATS PROBABLY THEM
charles_leclerc
liked by pierregasly, carlossainz55, lewishamilton, and 1,997,239 others
charles_leclerc Immensely excited about the Red Letters release: not only because of the new, amazing music Y/N will be sharing to the world but because today is the day I get to show everyone the love of my life. Every day it feels like I'm in a fever dream because I'm with someone so talented, charming, and kind.
Mon angè, you never fail to amaze me. My heart is full just seeing you conquer the world. Je tàime, yourusername ❤️
PS. I guess I am the red guy, yes?
carlossainz55 Finally! Charles has been waiting for this moment for quite some time now 🤣
danielricciardo Okay we see you Mr. Red Guy 👀
zendaya Take care of her or there will be consequences!
ilpredestinato KINGGGG SO DESERVED U GUYS ARE SO CUTE
charlos1655 such a hot couple too god they are so
pierregasly Finally went to Y/N's concert without wearing a disguise I am happy for you mate 👏
itpopgirl power couple ugh we love to see it
---------
tagging: @slytherheign hope ure doing well mwah
notes: this took me some time lmao anyways pls bare w me if i use the same usernames for the fan reactions on twitter its so harddd thinking of new usernames everytime 😭 i hope u liked this, anon! lmk what u guys think <33 tysm for reading!
#writtenbyrae#charles leclerc x female reader#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc#charles leclerc insta au#formula 1#f1#formula 1 social media au#f1 imagine#f1 fanfic#formula 1 insta au#charles leclerc instagram imagine#charles leclerc fluff#f1 fluff#f1 instagram au#f1 x reader#f1 x you#f1 x oc#charles leclerc social media au
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hey i hope ur alright ? can i request a insta as but with the ada members ? like not a specific relationship just them being happy together (it's been too long since they were happy rip) thank you!!!!!
Insta as an ADA's member
a/n : hey love! I never did it with the whole agency but I'll try me best, hope you'll like it!<3
<3 liked by Chu_uya, Ranthebestpo and 593 others.
Yn_theoneandonly : we searched for them for 30 bloody minutes @.Daze_i @.Ranthebestpo @.Atsushiii @.JuNro @.Kenji_fromthefarm YOU STUPID FUCKERS
Daze_i : you described me so well
↳ Yn_theoneandonly : what
↳ Daze_i : I fuck ur mothejfboqzjtkeo
↳ Daze_i : DOPPO IDIOT U ALMOST GAVE ME A CONCUSSION
↳ KunikiDA : Learn to be respectful
↳ Yosanurgirl : Dazai honey I received a new chainsaw, care to try it with me ? 🥰
↳ Yn_theoneandonly : Wonderful idea Yosano
↳ Daze_i : no not a great idea at all, try it on Atsushi I'm sure he'll like it
↳ Atsushiii : Why me ? I didn't insult anyone's mother
↳ Daze_i : OKAY I'M SORRY PLS PLS I'M SORRY
↳ Yosanurgirl : Oh you'll be sorry don't worry
↳ Daze_i : RANPO HELP ME
↳ Ranthebestpo : not my problem
Gintonic : what were they even talking about
↳ Chu_uya : Really ? It's the topic of the conv that's concerning you ?
↳ Gintonic : they got cute hat
↳ Chu_uya : I need a drink
<3 liked by Daze_i, Atsushiii and 942 others.
Yosanurgirl : dump of our vacations
Gintonic : LMFAO WHO IS ON THE TOP RIGHT
↳ Yosanurgirl : Ranpo proudly sitting on Atsushi
↳ Gintonic : they're so stupid omg
Chu_uya : IT'S OUTRAGIOUS BOSS I WANT VACATIONS TOO
↳ Yn_theoneandonly : come with us next time
↳ Daze_i : yes Chuuya come 🤗
↳ Chu_uya : you're so suspicious
↳ Daze_i : it'll be my pleasure to throw you out of the cliff
↳ Chu_uya : you'll fall trying
↳ Daze_i : what a wonderful death
FukuZAWA : It was very nice, we should do it more often.
↳ Ranthebestpo : glad you had fun
↳ Elisefather : Were they more productive after these vacations ?
↳ FukuZAWA : Raise spirits at least
↳ Elisefather : Hm, maybe I'll consider doing that
↳ Chu_uya : Really ?
↳ Gintonic : OMG FUCK YES
↳ Gintonic : I mean, this is a great idea Boss
↳ Elisefather : We'll see.
↳ The_Hirotsu : Please Boss, change that username
<3 liked by Gintonic, Yosanurgirl and 294 others.
Yn_theoneandonly : we're so sexy @.Yosanurgirl
Yosanurgirl : I felt my sex appeal disappear
↳ Yn_theoneandonly : always be sexy in my eyes
↳ Daze_i : mine too, everywhere you want
↳ Yn_theoneandonly : shut the fuck up
↳ Chu_uya : Have some self respect omg
Atsushiii : Can't believe I won honestly
↳ JuNro : me too
↳ Ranthebestpo : I SHOULD HAVE WON, I CALCULATED EVERYTHING, I EVEN MADE YOU FALL
↳ Atsushiii : SO IT WAS YOU
↳ Ranthebestpo : OF COURSE IT WAS ME
↳ Atsushiii : YOU SAID IT WAS YOSANO
↳ Ranthebestpo : OMG DON'T BELIEVE EVERYTHING I TELL YOU
↳ Yn_theoneandonly : are the kids done ?
↳ Atsushiii : NO
↳ Ranthebestpo : NO
↳ Yn_theoneandonly : Fine fine
Yosanurgirl : GIRL COME SEE THIS MAGNIFICENT PAIR OF KIDNEYS
↳ Yn_theoneandonly : OMW
↳ KunikiDA : How have you.... Nevermind, don't wanna know
↳ Daze_i : COMING TOO MY GIRLS
↳ KunikiDA : OH NO YOU ARE COMING WITH ME
↳ Daze_i : but but but but
↳ KunikiDA : You still have paperwork to do, and this time you won't give them to Atsushi
↳ Daze_i : How did you know ?
↳ KunikiDA : I know everything.
<3 liked by Yn_theoneandonly, Ranthebestpo and 1806 others.
KunikiDA : Whoever did this, I swear to you I'm going to find you, gut you and petition the government to have this bloody day annulled !
Yn_theoneandonly : FUCK IT DID WORK @.Ranthebestpo WE'RE GENIUS
↳ Ranthebestpo : SHUT UP HE'S GONNA KNOW IT'S US
↳ Daze_i : That's why I love you
↳ KunikiDA : You two, you better start running
↳ Yn_theoneandonly : RANPO WE'RE DEAD
↳ Ranthebestpo : WHO'S TO BLAME YOU IDIOT
↳ Kenji_fromthefarm : RUN I'LL TRY TO STOP HIM
↳ Yn_theoneandonly : YOU'RE A LIFESAVIOR KENJI
Gintonic : oh my I almost piss myself laughing
↳ Akutagawa : Thanks for the details
Yosanurgirl : I would have paid millions to see his face
↳ Daze_i : SAME BAAHHAHAHAHAHAH HE'S SO STUPID NOBODY WRITES "FREE CAKE"
↳ Yosanurgirl : You write your name on your yogurts
↳ Daze_i : That's because of Ranpo, he always eats them all
↳ Yosanurgirl : and who pays for these yogurts
↳ Daze_i : Atsushi... Okay I see your point but if my name is on them THEN IT'S MINE
↳ Yosanurgirl : THAT'S NOT HOW LIFE WORKS
↳ Daze_i : WELL NOW IT IS
Chu_uya : So hmmm Kyôka, you left us for them ?
↳ Kyôk_a : They're funnier than you for sure
↳ Chu_uya : Gotta act like I didn't read that
<3 liked by KunikiDA, FukuZAWA and 701 others.
Yn_theoneandonly : true family
Kenji_fromthefarm : I love you guys
Yosanurgirl : I LOVE you
↳ Yn_theoneandonly : me too sweet
Ranthebestpo : owwww aren't we cute
↳ p0e : sure are
Daze_i : at that moment there was a warm current between my legs
↳ Chu_uya : someone piss on you
Kyôk_a : never felt better in my life
↳ OzuKoy : I'm happy for you sweetheart
Atsushiii : I'm glad I found you all
↳ Akutagawa : you're foolish
↳ Gintonic : shut up and be happy for once
KunikiDA : What a bunch of happy idiots we are
↳ KATAI : couldn't have worded it better
JuNro : the warm current was probably me
↳ Higucci : you're disgusting
↳ Naomii : you should have stayed silent Jun
FukuZAWA : Thank you for trusting me one day, kids
↳ M_Mori : I really need to plan those vacations
↳ The_Hirotsu : Thank you Boss for changing the username
Hello! hope you liked it ? I kinda tear up at the end, it makes me happy to write them happy so I really hope you'll feel the same, we all need a good old boost of happiness from time to time
with love <3
#fanfic#fanfiction#bungou stray dogs#bsd#bungo stray dogs#x reader#request#fake social media#dazai bsd#dazai osamu#bungou stray dogs dazai#dazai x reader#bsd dazai#port mafia#armed detective agency#bungou stray dogs ranpo#ranpo edogawa#bsd ranpo#ranpo x reader#edogawa ranpo#bsd poe#atsushi x reader#bsd atsushi#atsushi nakajima#bungou stray dogs atsushi#bsd yosano#yosano akiko#bungou stray dogs yosano#yosano x reader#bsd chuuya
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Covet: Chapter 6
Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!Reader
Covet Summary:
Life was good. No, life was great.
Was.
Until.
Jake Kiszka crashed into the picture.
You welcomed him into your life—your home.
Yes, he was your best friend’s twin. But, he was also the one who would end up disrupting your whole world with his attitude, his troubles, and the annoyingly natural way he lured you in.
Jake Kiszka came with so much you really didn’t want.
At least that’s what you tried to convince yourself.
Warnings: MINORS DNI (18+); smutty smutty smut; talk of Reader's anxiety; drunkenness; New Girl spoilers (if you’ve never watched the show and don’t wanna know things!); absent parent thoughts; heavy petting; oral sex f!receiving; fingering; oral sex m!receiving; unprotected p in v sex; spanking (hehe); Reader is stubborn; Jake is stubborn (if i missed any that may have triggered you, please let me know!!)
Chapter Word Count: 24.5k+ (damn. i'm v sorry lmao)
Covet Masterlist
a/n: welllll, after summer school (that shit really took it out of me), one vacation w my whole fam, two gvf shows with my sis @joshym, an extended vaca in nash (bc we just HAD to!!), and INSANE writer's block....... HERE IS CHAPTER 6! finally! i'm insanely sorry it took so damn long. thank you all for being the fkn B E S T and so understanding and the best gresties/readers a girl could ask for! <3333 ("heart eyes, motherfucker" - that's how i feel about u all :) (also if u remember that vine, ily even more now))
i hope you enjoyyyy ;)
-🌼🌼🌼-
At the beginning of July, you were stacking a shipment of some blues records in a bin at work, your mind in a blank space, which naturally moved you to think of the one person who was seemingly always at the back of your mind.
Jake.
He’d really just taken up residence in your brain, as he had in your home.
He was still on his shit. You know, acting like a pouting child, barely acknowledging you. Even after you’d literally bared yourself to him, pussy out, nipples pebbled in the open air. . .
You blew a breath through your lips, and tucked hair behind both ears, readjusting your thought process.
Now he seemed set on only acting like an ass after your time in the cramped bathroom had been cut short. Before, he’d taken the time to still seek you out. After the incident in your bedroom bedroom, he’d literally shown up at the B&G, begging you to come see him.
Were you just not worth it to him anymore?
You rolled your eyes to yourself, focusing on stuffing records in the bin alphabetically.
It. Didn’t. Matter. He didn’t matter.
Really.
And you knew he didn’t matter because it wasn’t hard for you when you finally decided to play into his behavior—his little game. You didn’t stop yourself when you started to match his energy. It was easy to act as though you didn’t care about him.
Because you didn’t.
All you really needed was to satisfy that itch and then—then, you’d be good.
But as you came across a re-release of a Howlin’ Wolf record, you suddenly became slightly disheartened at the thought of it all. What if this wasn’t a game for him? What if he was actually so upset that he just decided you weren’t worth it? Would you ever get as close as you had at the gig again? Did he still want you like he had in the bathroom that night? Or in your bed the night before Baby’s?
You shivered as you (once again) thought of his hardened dick pressed up against your leg. You could hear his voice, low and sultry.
“That’s what you do to me.”
Fuck. Did you still do that to him? You hoped so.
Then there was the feeling of him pressing into you, your bare ass on the cold ceramic of the sink, leaning your body into him, craving more—so close.
God.
You frustratedly groaned and shoved the vinyl in its place and shook your head. It didn’t matter. Really. But you couldn’t help your heart falling at the idea of him not wanting you like you wanted him.
All you could do was hope that he still wanted it—wanted you, like he had before.
-🌼🌼🌼-
You'd also started July deciding that in order to keep some sense of dignity, it would be best to not go see Jake perform. Especially if it was possible he’d completely closed himself off the idea of you.
It was humiliating to be a try hard.
You would distance yourself from that part of his life, if he was going to ignore you and distance himself in your shared home.
Did you want to see him play again? Hell freakin’ yes. It had been such an intimate experience that first night. You’d felt so privileged to witness it the way you had then, up close to share his emotions as he played, holding his eyes almost any time he’d looked up at you. You’d been taking in every flick of his fingers, every thrust into the back of his guitar, the concentration on his sweaty face . . . and he’d wanted you to watch. He’d wanted you there, in that moment, with him.
You could still see him clear as day, tanned skin glowing in the B&G, his eyes golden in the evening sun, pleading with you. . .
“I really want you there.”
When you’d gone to their last shows in June, all you wanted was to feel that way again. Connected to him. Close to him. You wanted it so badly—but it seemed he didn’t want it anymore. He hadn’t looked at you once during any of the shows. To be fair, you had been standing so far towards the back that it’s possible he hadn’t even known you were there. But, he hadn’t even tried to seek you out to ask you to come like he had before (if it really was possible he thought you weren’t there).
Things were just different than before.
So, yeah. It was best that you didn’t go. You didn’t want to seem desperate or possibly annoy him with your presence just in case he did see you at a show. You’d made up your mind that it was obvious he didn’t want you there. He wanted things like they currently were.
And it wasn’t so much that it hurt to have him act so aloof and absent and uncaring. It didn’t hurt. Really. You’d tried to convince yourself that he was just making you angry. Nothing more.
So, you just continued to play his game however well you could. It wasn’t that important.
Though, any time he left the apartment, looking deliciously ready for a performance, all you wanted to do was follow. But instead, all you’d actually do was look at him from wherever he passed you in the apartment. You’d glare at him, matching his pissy behavior as long as he continued to show it.
But you’d eventually noticed that his eyes weren’t always holding irritation when he passed you. . .sometimes, you could have sworn his eyes held more longing than anything.
Although, as soon as you’d think you saw it, he was already gone. And you would eventually decide that you’d imagined it.
You couldn’t stop yourself from wondering if it was possible that underneath his moodiness he did still want you?
All you wanted was to understand what he was feeling.
-🌼🌼🌼-
So, after not going to their shows for the first couple weeks of July, Josh had finally reached out on the night of one, asking if you’d come because he ‘missed seeing you’.
You initially wanted to send a text back that said: ‘No, sorry. Your brother sucks and I’m mad at him right now. And if I go all I’ll want to do is fuck him senseless after watching him play, even though he probably doesn’t want that at all. So, I have to decline.’
But, then you guiltily started thinking of how you needed to support your best friend and the other two guys. It was incredibly rude of you to not go see Josh, Sam, and Danny do their thing simply because Jake was a pain in the ass that you couldn’t figure out.
You wanted to support your friends. Support Josh.
So that’s why you ended up texting an ‘Of course! What time?’ in response.
And as you got ready that night, you pulled on a cropped Cream T-shirt, thinking momentarily of your roommate. Would he like it if he saw it? Or would it piss him off?
Pushing it out of your mind, you focused on how excited you were now, the idea of getting to see them live again.
The guys put on a helluva show; they were absolutely magnificent, so magnetic.
Once you felt totally ready to go, you secured an Uber to pick you up, already planning to have a few drinks to ease your mind at the show.
As you put your shoes on, you thought. . . The thing that made you most excited really wasn’t seeing the band perform again as a whole. It wasn’t even the thought of seeing Josh. It was getting to simply be near Jake again, pathetic as it may sound. And the thought of seeing him play again. . . Fuck. Watching him was so enticing. He was like a drug. . .always drawing you in.
There was no denying the way your stomach fluttered at the thought of watching him perform again. Because even though he was pissing you off and you had no earthly clue how in the hell he was feeling, watching him perform was unlike any adrenaline rush you’d ever experienced.
(Save for the feeling of your blood pumping erratically at the feeling of him tucked between your legs. That was a feeling unlike anything else.)
-🌼🌼🌼-
Like you had at shows before, you sat at the back to witness the performance.
It had been great, per usual. Jake had left you wanting him from your seat. And just like it had been at the shows in June, he never failed to make you feel incredibly stupid for stopping things in the bathroom the night of their first show.
Yet now, while they performed their encore, you hadn’t left the venue like you normally did. You hadn’t tried to get the hell out of dodge.
No, tonight, you stood at the outdoor bar area connected to the back of the venue. It was set in a huge space covered in bright green turf, a small patio with a couple of tables, and plenty of Edison bulb string lights to set the cool mood of the place.
There were even a couple of ping pong tables and a cornhole game set up for people to play at. A random sporting event was drawing in a few college-aged men, on a giant flat screen TV.
Although, unlike those men, it wasn’t your choice to be hanging out in the open area. You had wanted to avert to your normal plan of leaving to go home with a quick ‘proud of you!’ text to Josh.
You wanted to avoid Jake seeing you at all costs. But Josh had inadvertently seen to it that you wouldn’t get away with that plan again.
He’d apparently caught onto your little trick. Before you could begin to type a text, and before they’d even come out for their encore, Josh had sent a text. Or three.
Josh, 10:23 p.m.: Don’t you dare leave.
Josh, 10:23 p.m.: I really want to see you and give you a hug
Josh, 10:24 p.m.: I don’t see you nearly enough these days and I miss you dearly and I really want to have just one drink with you after the show. Pleeeeaaaase
So, here you were, outside before the set even totally ended, standing at the bar, downing another lemon drop to calm your nerves. You really just wanted to be home, with Stevie snoring against your calves.
You were not totally ready to be in the same area as Jake for an extended amount of time.
You were just asking for your another beer when you felt someone sidle up beside you. The nudge against your shoulder, and the familiar hint of patchouli in his cologne, made you grin at your best friend.
“One salty dog for me,” Josh said as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders. After a nod, the bartender went to get his drink ready, and he turned you fully into him to give you a big hug.
It felt so safe. . . but you couldn’t help the feeling of wanting to be this close to Jake instead.
When you pulled away, you momentarily closed your eyes, collecting your thoughts. When you opened them, you watched as he placed an elbow on the bar and a hand on his hip. His eyebrow went up.
“Great job tonight. I’m so prou—.”
“Why haven’t you let me know your anxiety’s been flaring up again?” He interrupted, obviously worried.
You blinked once. What? “What?”
“Last month, you kept fleeing before I could even take a breath after a set. I figured you were just trying to get some sleep with your summer classes starting. But then you just stopped coming altogether,” he scooted in closer to you. His voice got lower, his eyes concerned. “I just wanted to put eyes on you. I’ve been so busy; I haven’t had time to check on you like normal. My schedule is shit. I figured this would be a way for me to see you and make sure you’re doing alright,” he continued, reaching his hand up to lightly rub your shoulder. “It came later this time. I expected it to get bad at the end of May, but it never came. What’s going on? Are you okay? Are you eating?”
Your cheeks pinkened. With your concern for avoiding Jake at these gigs, you hadn’t even taken time to think about how your behavior might have worried Josh. Of course he’d been thinking deeply about your absence. He cared so much for you, and was a sole confidant on multiple occasions of your depression induced anxiety flare-ups. And, to be fair, being flighty usually signaled the beginning of your bigger bouts with your superb anxiety-depression combo.
You’d had a few times in your friendship where it had gotten really bad. Definitely a trauma response, almost always coming with a change in season. For some reason, the change in leaves, flowers blooming — it always made you think of just how much your mom had broken you. You didn’t get to appreciate the beauty without it being tainted by darkness. Your mother's leaving had come right at the turn of fall into winter.
There had been a few times after Elsie left when it got so bad that Josh’d insisted he stay with you. With your sister around, he wouldn’t always stay the night when it hit you, but he’d check on you at work, and hover with texts, food, and quality time until he felt you were better.
But this had nothing to do with your mother. And really, your anxiety wasn’t bad. Jake wasn’t causing you anxiety for you at all right now. You didn’t know what you were feeling. Were you on edge around Jake at all times? Yes. But it wasn’t anxiety. It definitely wasn’t depression. Sadness that he could possibly not want you, yes. But it wasn’t something dark like the thought your mother might bring. You didn’t know what it was.
You just knew you had to reassure Josh.
“I’m okay,” you looked into his eyes and reached out to hold his hand on the bar. “Yes, I’m eating. I’m just—feeling a lot right now? I don’t know. It’s weird,” you shook your head and removed your hand to tuck some hair behind your ear. How could you explain this to him? You couldn’t. “Just a lot going on in my head.”
He studied you, squinted his eyes. “Is there something I should know about?” He questioned, his voice getting crisper as he tried to make pieces click. Your stomach dropped. “You’re being vague. You’re sure it’s not—?”
“No,” you shut your eyes, huffing a frustrated breath. “Yes. I’m—it’s just—I don’t know.” Improvise, improvise, improvise. “When Elsie was in town, we talked about my mom. I’ve just been in my feelings, I guess. And, yeah, summer classes have started and that’s added some pressure, too. But it’s not anxiety or depression or anything,” you connected eyes with him again, and reached to squeeze his hand. “I promise.”
He still didn’t seem convinced. You weren’t surprised. He was an empath after all. He shouldn’t be convinced. He knew better than to believe that was all it was. But you didn’t want him knowing any better than an assumption in his head. And as long as the assumption didn’t have anything to do with his brother, you were okay with whatever he was assuming. And, you being in a weird headspace because of your mom wasn’t a lie. You truly had been. He’d even witnessed it at the coffee shop.
It just wasn’t the whole truth. The biggest thing was something he absolutely couldn’t know: the way your mind had been swarmed with Jake, Jake, Jake for the past months. And it’d only gotten worse with the past couple . . .events.
The thought of Josh catching on to anything about his brother continued to make you fearful of him possibly being cross with you over it. Or worse, made you fear him feeling betrayed by you. You didn’t want him upset or thinking poorly of you for possibly distracting Jake in any way.
You couldn't be to Jake what his ex had been. And you feared Josh’s mind would go to that immediately—out of protection for his brother. Rightfully so.
His eyes settled back to normal, accepting your answer for the time being. His eyes curved down with understanding. “I saw you watching that girl and her mom at the coffee shop. I should’ve known.”
All you could do was nod. You didn’t know what more to say to cover your ass.
You cleared your throat, signaling you were ready for a change of topic. “Enough about me. How are you feeling about all of these amazing shows, rockstar?”
He grinned wide, letting his worries go as a drink landed in front of him.
And in no time, things were like they’d always been.
Just you and Josh, not a lingering thought for Jake’s moods as you let yourself listen to his twin’s many thoughts and feelings of this new life of his.
You just had to try your best to ignore the way your heart leapt in your chest at any mention of Jake’s name in a story.
-🌼🌼🌼-
Jake’s POV
I wasn’t prepared for the sight of her as I walked out onto the back area of the establishment.
And fuck it all, if she wasn’t the first thing my eyes found in that slightly crowded space. It would be impossible for her not to be—she was most definitely the most gorgeous woman I’d ever seen.
But my heart immediately dropped when it registered that she was holding Josh’s hand, talking animatedly with him. It would be stupid for me to assume she’d come for anyone else but him.
I had thought for sure that she’d been interested—wanted me—that night at Baby’s All Right. She’d said so much the night before that —her being so open with me at our home, right before we’d kissed for the first time in the hallway.
Then, that night at Baby’s. . .I’d been so close to her, feeling her swollen pussy, still wet from my mouth, on the head of my cock. The way her body had thrummed around me. . .making my body need more.
But just before I was inside of her, she’d heard my brother and her mind had gone immediately to him. Only caring what he thought.
I didn’t know what to think about what they had between them. It was very possible that they were just friends—best friends. I knew that was likely the case.
(And if I were thinking reasonably—it was definitely the case from how Josh talked about her sister.)
But my ways of reasonable thinking had been shot to shit these days.
I’d been burned by assuming something similar in the past. The whole “just friends” thing was a cover I wasn't too fond of. Thanks to the woman I’d loved in the past, my trust was shot and I had become a primarily “glass half empty” thinker. My past had bit me in the fuckin’ ass.
But y/n—she made me feel electric again—full of life. She was the most beautiful symbol of a fresh start. A fresh start I’d been craving—a feeling I’d been chasing for years.
I truly hadn’t felt so full of possibility since I was 16. Even when we’d bicker, I felt this glimmer of hope for my life. . . She was a natural light.
I just wanted her so bad, going dizzy at the sight of her . . . And that was a feeling I hadn’t ever felt with any other woman. My brain was almost always fuzzy when she was near.
She was absolutely breathtaking, every movement she made that had her hair flowing in slow motion around her head, the way her eyes hooded when it was just the two of us. . . but even better, the way her eyes shined, so bright, all the time. She was positively heaven sent.
And I’d be an idiot to think she’d want me more than my brother—who she’d known for years, who she was instantly drawn to at all times. They had natural chemistry. Anyone with two eyes could see it.
She deserved a light that matched her own. Could I capture that light? Yes, I knew I could. But I’d been so terrible to her from the get-go; I wouldn’t blame her gravitating towards Josh—feeling safer with him.
Like he always said, he was the sun, and I was the moon. I naturally came with darkness. I’d made it clear enough by acting like an asshole for the first portion of my time living with her.
People who knew me knew I was notoriously terrible at reacting to hurt. I didn’t naturally know how to handle my emotions like Josh was practically born knowing to do.
And the moment I laid eyes on her that first night at the apartment—when she’d opened the door. . .her hair falling against her sweet face, her eyes opening to show me the most beautiful color I’d ever seen. I knew then that I was a goner.
But it’d seemed to be terrible timing at that instant. Feeling so drawn to her—it was coming right after I’d had the biggest life change. My heart was hurting—not necessarily broken, just . . . lost.
And I didn’t want her to be involved in the hopeless sea I’d been drowning in since my past troubles had come crashing down around me.
Though, when I’d first seen her, standing there, the evening sun hitting her stunning face in her doorway— I felt like all of the pirates I loved to study. I’d found a hidden treasure I couldn’t even imagine could be so beautiful— just around the bend for so long, finally in my grasp.
But I hadn’t known her. I hadn’t even met her. She was a treasure that wasn't mine to enjoy.
And I truly needed to heal, without bringing someone else down with me. I was scared of all I was feeling, and I only knew to react with bluntness, rudeness, irritation at every fucking turn. I’d even brought girls to bed to try to get her the fuck out of my mind.
But it never happened. She was persistently there, in my everyday routine, in the eyes of the girls I'd mindlessly fuck. She'd sealed a sweet spot in my brain.
But I’d still kept up with the douchebag act.
It was so unfair.
She’d tried so hard to be friendly, and I never greeted it well. I hadn’t known what to make of it all. That first night, Josh had said we were the same. Though, as he’d said this, I’d been watching her—so peaceful and beautiful, deep in a surely dreamful sleep.
It’d instantly made my stomach dip when he said it. . . I knew well enough that she couldn’t be the same as me.
But she was the same as Josh—pure, unadulterated bright, yellow sunshine. She was the sun on a spring day, flowers blooming and the grasses so green. Not a cloud in sight.
But I was the cloud in her flawless sky. I’d been reminded of that when she’d stopped us at Baby's, saying she didn’t want Josh to know. It seemed she didn’t want to take a chance on people knowing we’d been so close.
I could only assume she didn’t want that darkness in her life, and I didn’t blame her.
So I’d separated myself from her.
After that night, when Josh had told me of her being at our other gigs in June, I’d brushed it off. I knew why she was there—for Josh. I hadn’t even tried to seek her out because I knew that wasn’t what she wanted. She didn’t want me near her. Didn’t want people to know how close we had been.
How well her body shaped to mine in secret— and it was just that: a secret she wanted kept.
Especially wanted it kept from Josh. To him, she wanted us to be strictly roommates. So that’s what I’d decided I’d be for her.
I’d wanted to ask her to come to shows after our little stint, but I fought the urge every time it came on. I wanted her there, I fed off of her energy—she made me play better. But, I didn’t want to rub her the wrong way after she’d put her foot down in the bathroom. I didn’t want to come off too strong.
I’d also given my best attempt to not let my feelings show in the past weeks. It had been so hard anytime I’d meet her beautiful eyes. Her eyes that, over the past week, had seemed to turn from something hopeful when she looked my way to what could only be called disdain —disdain for me.
I had been an asshole, and she was better than that . . .
But, still, all I wanted was her. I wanted to take back everything I’d said or done out of hurt, due to not knowing how to handle my mess of feelings.
I wished I could go back to day one and make things different. I wished I could go back in time to stop myself from becoming a slab of stone to cope with my feelings. If I would have just been myself. . . Maybe I’d have her now— ever-endearing and enrapturing.
Fuck. And as I watched her tousle Josh’s hair, I just wanted to feel her fingers in mine again. My heart twinged with jealousy at the action.
“Look who’s here!”
Sam’s loud voice snapped me out of my reverie. I continued to watch her, her smile widened at Sam’s voice, looking in his direction, and away from Josh. Then, without warning, she looked over to me as I was still studying her face—the way her full lips stretched to show her beautiful beam.
But as soon as she looked at me, her smile fell. And all I wanted in that moment was for her smile to get bigger when she saw me, just as it had when she saw Sam.
I just wanted her.
I decided at that moment, I was going to bite the bullet. I could make one more move to be close to her again. And if there was one moment where she acted as if she didn’t want it, I’d back off.
But right now? I couldn’t see that happening. Couldn't see her backing off. She didn’t pull her eyes from mine, and I never let my gaze fall from hers. She held me with her stare, and I held her with mine.
It was just us.
And as I came up on her other side, opposite Josh, she never broke eye contact with me, turning from my twin. And even as Sam and Danny traveled behind me, she only looked at me.
I watched her chest rise and fall, the swell of her breasts making my mouth run dry from where they peeked out at the makeshift tear at the top of her shirt. The sugary sweet smell of her perfume made all of my senses lurch forward, wanting to take her—all of her— right at that moment.
I was close enough to see the shine from the Edison bulbs around us, reflecting in her irises.
Daniel and Sam came up to give her hugs, honestly acting completely oblivious to what was transpiring between us. Josh was chatting it up with the bartender, asking if he heard us from out here.
And finally, they all left to go play ping pong. They’d offered for us to go play, but she hadn’t even acknowledged them talking. I waved them off, and looked at them with a shake of my head. I felt her eyes continue to pore over me as she let me do the work to get them to leave.
Then, y/n and I were in our own world, I placed my forearm on the bar, my body curving to be around hers of its own accord. She followed by turning her whole body to face mine. It felt natural as she leaned into where I stood. She wasn’t quite touching me, but she let her own body follow all of my movements.
I couldn’t help but feel my chest puff as she let her body move with mine as I matched her, moving in time with her. I was the dull moth and she was the bright, alluring flame.
I wondered if it felt as seamless for her as it did for me, she sat her elbow on the bar, and leaned her hip against a stool. She went to sit on top of it, but she struggled with her footing, so I let my instincts take control and I helped her onto it. However I could help her, I wanted to.
I also wanted nothing more than to touch her, so that seemed like the perfect opportunity to kill two birds with one stone.
The gasp she released when I touched her, and lifted her the slightest bit to help her situate on the glittery plastic top of the stool, combined with the way her legs spread the slightest bit, her black jean shorts showing so much of her sweet, sun-kissed thighs—it made all of my blood rush through me and to a throbbing halt at the head of my cock.
I wanted to cross my legs to make sure it wouldn’t show what she was doing to me. But she was so magnetic, I couldn’t help the last step I took, towards the stool, to be closer to her. I was so close that my thighs touched her knees. Her knees, which she then crossed, in the process grazing the zipper of my jeans.
My breath caught in my chest, and my dick pulsed. She was still looking down at where she’d touched me, so I knew she saw what I felt happening in my pants.
She shot me a look, questioning all of this. And all I could do was look down at her, letting my eyes sweep over her entire outfit. So simple, yet so lovely, as always. She was wearing a cropped band tee (Cream. Fuck—did she do that on purpose?) and those cut off black denim shorts, with her black-colored toenails showing in a pair of cheap black flip flops.
I swallowed hard, feeling so entranced by her. My gaze went back to her face, the most appealing part of the woman. Her face was so open, so kind, so pretty—it had done nothing but draw me in since day one. And being so close to her again, I saw the familiar dusting of a few lighter freckles that dotted her nose. She was smiling—her eyes were smiling— at me.
Somehow it seemed she knew exactly what was going through my mind. Crazy how we’d been avoiding each other for the past couple of weeks, but now just clicked back together as if we were back at Baby’s All Right—in the cramped space of that bathroom.
I looked into her bright eyes, feeling something overwhelming come to life in my chest.
Fucking hell. She was perfect.
I needed this. I needed to feel this with her again. I’d missed it. The closeness.
“Hi,” I said with a nod, just loud enough for her ears to hear.
She blinked once, her eyes wide and wondering. Fuck. She was so damn cute.
Then, I watched fondly as her dimples showed in her cheeks with a soft grin. “Hi.”
End of Jake’s POV
-🌼🌼🌼-
It had been a decent amount of time since Jake had come up to stand right next to you, completely ruining any chance for sanity on your end.
He’d acted so normal, so forward. His actions were exactly what you’d needed to feel relieved—to know that all was okay.
You’d gotten nervous being around him, like Elsie would say, you were pretty sure you had a ‘good ‘ol crush.’ Nothing more. You focused on complimenting the set when you’d talked, asking simple questions, just to hear his voice explain the same things Josh already had. The raspiness in his tone was just delicious, and you wanted to hear the small things from his perspective more than anyone else’s.
When you weren’t listening to him talk, you pretended to be interested in the game on the flat screen—you had no clue what they were doing on the field, but it was distracting you from how sweaty your palms were getting at Jake being so close.
Though, you were now several beers (and a couple margaritas) in, previously deciding you wanted to make this night like old times where you’d get drunk and have fun with the guys. The boys’d come up to you a few times in your precious time being next to Jake. They’d bump you with a shoulder as they grabbed a drink. . . Josh only coming by once or twice, having been the chosen one to hold off, as he was the DD.
And, per usual, Sammy had chosen a game that would supposedly be much more fun, completely inebriated: ‘drunk ping pong.’
“Like normal ping pong, except you’re drunk!” Sam had excitedly said, his signature cackle following his words. He was right there with you on the 'shitface scale'.
Jake had barely left your side all night, and it felt so right to be so close to him, to stay with him. It felt right, just like it had before, except this time, it had nothing to do with anything sexual. . .it was just his simple presence that made you feel good.
(You weren't going to talk about how you'd felt his dick twitch in his tight jeans. . .because holy fuck. Your panties had been the victim when that had happened.)
By the middle of the ping pong game, you were still drinking. You felt light in the head, completely carefree. You even caught yourself leaning into Jake a few times, the two of you deciding to be a team against Sammy and Danny. Josh preferred being the referee for the game, getting a chance to nonstop talk by narrating the entire game.
At one point, you knew you were leaning back into him, but you were far too gone to care. You’d purposefully pressed your ass against his crotch, and he’d patiently repositioned you. You were grateful for him being so aware, because you knew you’d regret it in the morning if something stupid happened in front of your friends. You just couldn’t control your actions like a sober-you normally could.
You were in a body that was moving on its own, your brain barely registering what you’d do.
He’d repeatedly asked if you were doing alright, and you’d get so lost in his chocolate gaze you could only breathe a ‘yes’ in response.
And, now, as you settled into a booth inside the establishment, it was nearing 1 a.m., and you were simply listening to the guys talk about their next performance. And as you had been all night, you were next to Jake.
At this point, you were cuddled up next to him more than anything else. You felt so cozy with him. His body was a warm furnace for yours. You were sitting in a way that none of the other guys could see what you were doing. Because of them not seeing your bottom half, you situated a leg over his thigh, comfortably draping it the best you could to make it look as inconspicuous as possible (while simultaneously being incredibly drunk).
But you could barely worry about it when you leaned your head on his shoulder. You were sleepy. And he was warm, right, and close.
And he smelled so fucking good. Hints of sage and vanilla overwhelmed your senses, mixed with sweat. . .it was the perfect mixture that helped to lull you to sleep, along with the calming vibration of his voice as he talked with his brothers, your head laying on his shoulder perfectly placed for the melodic sound waves from his voice.
And right before you dozed off, you felt one of his calloused hands lay on your thigh, warm on your cooled skin. You snuggled into him, a small smile finding its way to your lips.
-🌼🌼🌼-
Before you knew it, the same hand was squeezing your thigh, urging you to wake up.
“Y/n. . .let’s go home,” his voice softly said, his minty breath hitting your face. Home. As your eyes wedged open, you looked up at him to find the apples of his cheeks redden with a deep laugh as he reacted to something Josh said.
If only you could just kiss him - right then and there.
You were still too out of it to register what Josh was saying, but you noticed the other three standing around the booth, Jake securely next to you still.
Your tummy fluttered at him being so attentive to you, and continued on that way as he helped you climb out (or rather squeak out of the booth, your bare thighs making racket against the seat).
“Y/n. . .,” Sam started, his voice way too high for him to be requesting your name for anything too serious. And still, you looked up at him as you finally edged your way to the very end of the red booth. “Did you fart?!”
The rest of the guys started chuckling with him, and you couldn’t help but join in as you went to punch his scrawny chest. “Shut the fuck up, you fucker.”
Danny whooped, beating a fist in the air. He started leading the way out of the bar. As you all followed, he turned to catch your eye briefly. “Y/n. . . coming in with some nasty ass insults tonight,” he laughed. “You’re killing it, Baby Dragon.”
“Haven't heard that one for a hot damn second,” Josh remarked, right behind Danny, waiting to hold the door open for you, Jake, and Sam. “Baby Dragon.”
Jake looked at you and Sam curiously, wanting an in on the nickname.
“Baby Dragon?” He questioned, taking the door from Josh to let you into the dark night, under his lifted arm.
“Game of Thrones,” was Sammy’s explanation, as he started teetering on his feet, balancing himself on the ledge of the sidewalk to keep himself busy. “Baby dragons.”
You could tell he was still wondering why, so you tried to extend Sam’s drunken response with your own woozy one. “I’m a baby dragon.”
Well, that made no damn sense, you thought, giggling to yourself.
The guys started busting up laughing, Jake still dipping his eyebrows in at you, a smile playing on his full lips. He was watching your every motion, continuing as you looped your arm with Sammy, trying to balance with him.
Josh continued, more lucid than either of you. “We watched Game of Thrones week after week at our apartment for about a year. . . binged it together,” he nodded his head toward you, smirking. “One of y/n’s favorite ways to bond is with a good television show. And she had been dying for us to watch it with her. So, we did.”
The curly headed twin then laughed at you and Sammy as you both nearly fell, making the same ridiculous sound as you almost went down. Sam thankfully recovered in time, even with his feet slippery in his Birkenstocks. He held you close to him. It made you laugh even harder as he playfully checked you for bumps and bruises.
“We deemed her Baby Dragon,” Danny finished.
Jake nodded, but he still wanted more information, looking left out. You also noticed him looking as though he’d discovered something. And then it clicked that Josh had exposed a bonding tactic of yours. You slapped your forehead, your reactions still slow, even after your nap, where you had snoozed off the tiniest bit of alcohol.
“Josh!” You scolded him, way past time. You still made no sense, randomly saying his name— you knew this.
But, the more Josh looked at you dubiously, you thought you’d leave it at that. You didn’t need to correct him for saying anything. Because, well, it really wasn’t that big of a deal, the more you thought of it. Maybe you were okay with Jake knowing you’d used TV to bond with him.
In this state, you could plainly admit that you wanted him to know your heart—all of your intentions. And you wanted to tell him all of your desires. . . Show him, even. You were craving him, especially after being so close with him all night. It felt nice.
You looked up to observe him at that moment, but he was checking his phone, his eyebrows crinkled. He looked up from it, clicking it closed and glancing to the street to see a car rolling up.
“Your Uber AWAITS!” Sam declared, motioning to the car that had pulled up to the curb, the black and white Uber sign in the corner of the window to confirm his words.
“Jake, you need to get a damn car,” Josh noted, opening the back door for you. “I’m tired of being your chauffeur. And Uber is going to get tired of you soon, too,” He caught your eye and winked, nodding over to your roommate. “Y/n, I’m thinking it’s your turn to cart Jake around everywhere he goes.”
You approached the nice little silver car, rolling your eyes at Josh, but still giving him a hug as you came up next to him. “Love you, Joshy,” you leaned in, giving him a kiss on the cheek.
“I’m not taking any car advice from you, Mister Clunkerfuck,” he commented plainly. It made you burst out with laughter. “Your car is on its last fuckin’ leg. It’s going to break down on you at the worst possible moment and I’m not going to feel bad. I think you’re the one who needs to get a car—a new one.”
Sam started drunkenly singing a track you hadn’t heard that included the lyrics ‘you’re the one’. His actions were dramatic, only Danny paid him any mind, starting to sing with him, being just as goofy.
You were still thinking of what Jake had said. It was exactly how you thought of Josh’s car.
“Clunkerfuck,” you smiled in Jake’s direction. Though, when you caught his eye, he looked a little downcast, you just couldn’t pin why. Maybe you were seeing it, all dazed out. “Good one, Jakey.”
Jakey? It did register in time that you’d called him that, and you were instantly embarrassed by your nickname for him. Too far. So, you hurriedly got in the car, your cheeks flushing as you haphazardly yelled goodbyes to the other guys.
“Nighty night, Baby Dragon,” Josh had said with a laugh, calling you the nickname once more, closing the door behind you. You’d honestly forgotten about the nickname. . .it had been so long since they’d used it.
Before you knew it, Jake was scooting into the passenger seat to offer an address to the driver.
He doesn’t want to sit next to me? You thought, sadly. But he chose to be close to me the rest of the night. . . Why not now?
You tried not to look too disappointed on the outside as he was back to ignoring you for the twenty minute drive back to your place. He paid you no mind, and didn’t even care to check on you like he had all night, on the ride back.
You weren’t able to give it much thought as you looked at the GPS and reasoned you could get a good nap in on the way home. Drinking always made you feel so tired.
You laid your head against the cooled window next to you. Jake’s naturally husky (fucking sexy) tone as he spoke to the driver, was the last thing you heard semi-coherently.
You let the car sway you to sleep for the last 10-ish minutes of the drive back, only one handsome man, with long hair and a voice that dripped of sex, waiting behind your lids as they closed.
-🌼🌼🌼-
You were still feeling loopy as Jake helped you up the stairs to the apartment.
You’d had way too much to drink. You needed sleep.
Once you entered the apartment, it was so quiet and dark. . .you needed light. So, you felt against the wall to switch the light on. But, you instantly regretted it, covering your eyes with both hands.
“My eyes!” You yelped, way too dramatically. And when you peeked through your fingers, you saw Jake stooped down, next to Stevie’s dish, giving her a scoop of food. She nudged her little gray head against his hand. Your heart squeezed at the sight. But it was still too bright. “My eyes!”
With two hands still covering your eyes, you sauntered, on unsteady foot in front of the other, back towards the switch you’d used to flip the lights on.
But before you could get to the switch, you knocked into a chair, sending you back onto your ass. Yet again, dramatically.
“Ow!” You moved a hand from your eyes to massage your sore butt, and as you did, you saw Jake moving to switch the lights off. You were once again cloaked in darkness, but he turned the lamp on closest to him. You sighed, your ass not hurting as much as you’d imagined it had. Now you only cared about the lights, how perfectly dimmed the room was. “Ahhh. . .Much better.”
Your lids were drooping again, and you were not looking forward to getting back up on wobbly feet to make the trek to your bedroom.
Deciding the floor was a comfy enough bed for the night, you laid back, curling onto your side, your hands under your left cheek to make a pillow.
-🌼🌼🌼-
Jake’s POV
Her eyes slid closed. I watched her, a small grin on my face. So adorable.
But, she was so gone. I felt bad appreciating her being so cute while she was so incoherent.
So instead of taking advantage, I’d taken it upon myself to watch over her and make sure she was alright all night. I kept my drinking to a minimum so I could keep a careful eye on her.
We’d spent the whole night together, enjoying each other’s company (even if she had been slightly—very—drunk). It’d felt so right.
My heart had beat at being like that with her in a similar way it did when we’d watch New Girl together. But, it was different tonight. Instead of only sitting on a couch, we’d been together, walking around, playing, her willingly (albeit drunkenly) falling asleep on my shoulder, a smooth leg draped over mine (holy fuck, by the way).
We hadn’t really gotten the chance to talk a whole lot, thanks to my brothers demanding our attention. The only talking we had partaken in had been very little. And it’d only been about what she’d thought of the set, little questions she had for me. We’d mostly just taken time to be next to each other.
For me, it’d felt like coming back home.
I had just watched her as she watched the game on a TV in front of us (didn’t peg her as a girl who liked sports, but whatever), occasionally looking over at me to share a secret smile, making my skin hot with want for her.
I’d hoped, sitting there on those barstools, that she’d felt it with me—the whole cheesy ass ‘coming home’ thing.
But then, having to stand there and watch her kiss Josh on the cheek at the end of the night . . .that had been a kick in the fuckin’ ass. I’d literally felt my heart sink in my chest as I watched them, their respective energies feeding off of the other so well. . . they were practically one.
He’d even helped her into the car, once again calling her that ‘baby dragon’ thing that I couldn’t understand at all. I couldn’t understand her the way he could—the way all of the guys could. I hadn’t been around to get to know her with the rest of them. I wasn’t in sync with her like they were—like Josh was.
I was late to the game. Probably too late.
Though, when we got home, I still wanted to help her with a few small things . . . It was impossible for me not to try and help her (even if she didn’t fit as well with me as she did my brother).
And at this moment, I could tell that she was going to let herself sleep on the floor.
But I wasn’t going to let that happen.
Bending down next to her beautiful body, I couldn’t help but bite my lip when I saw her round ass peeking out from the bottom of her shorts. She was filled out in all of the right places—an absolute fucking masterpiece.
Then I heard a little whimper in her sleep. A sigh, as she probably started slipping into dreamland. I felt my dick harden just the slightest bit when I thought of hearing those same whimpers through the walls. . . how she’d said my name in her sleep a few times — moaned it, even. . . Off in her dreams where I could have only hoped to meet her.
I’d spent many mornings so sexually fucking frustrated with how close, yet so far she was. So many times—I was there, right next door to her as my name would slip from her lips. And with only a thin wall between us, I’d jerked my cock into a hand I’d imagined was her sweet pussy, having to bite my lip to keep from saying her name.
Fuck. I palmed at my crotch, willing my dick to soften. Now was not the time.
I touched her shoulder, nudging her a bit. “Y/n. . .come on, wake up. You don’t wanna sleep on the floor.”
She sighed again, “Yes, I do,” she retorted.
And then she moaned as she snuggled further into the carpet. Her moan. Fuck. She was like a damn good drug.
“No, you don’t,” I scooped my hands under her back, ready to carry her to bed. “I’ll carry you if you don’t move yourself. Come on.”
I saw her lids flutter, eyes still closed. A little smirk graced her features. “Carry me, Jakey,” she mused.
There she was using that nickname for me again, I thought. It sounded so much better, sweeter coming from her lips than I’d ever heard it.
And when I let both of my hands totally slip under her, scooping her into my arms, and against my chest, her eyes blinked open, still slightly hooded. Her eyebrows curved in, the look she was giving me telling me she hadn’t believed I would do it.
She wiggled, arguing. “Jake. You don’t have to,” wiggle. “Carry,” wiggle. “Me.”
I gripped her a bit tighter, but did give her a chance to climb out of my arms. “I’ll let you walk if you want to,” I continued, letting my guard down with my next words. “But I really like being this close to you. . .feeling you against me.”
When she looked at me again, it was as if she’d totally sobered at what I’d said (even though I knew better). Her eyes were inquiring, but so full of an emotion I couldn’t fully place in that moment. All I knew was her unnamed emotion somehow perfectly matched the thrum of my heart in my chest.
“Me too.”
And then she looped her arms around my neck, bringing my face down to meet hers, just as we’d made it to her room.
I couldn’t help it. I let myself give in to her apparent want in that moment, and met her lips with mine.
End of Jake’s POV
-🌼🌼🌼-
As Jake carried you further into your room, to your bed, you never let your lips leave his. Even as he laid you down on your bed, you kept kissing him.
Yes, you thought. This. This is what I needed. I needed him.
You knew you weren’t totally sober, but when he’d said what he did about liking the feeling of being close to you. . . it had made your heart leap into your throat with joy. Because you’d been hoping he still felt like that. You’d been hoping so hard to hear words like that, that it had kind of snapped you from your drunken daze.
And having him on top of you, laying his body between your legs that naturally opened to make room for him. . .the feeling was divine.
Having Jake with you, it was more than the alcohol that still lingered in your system. You wished you hadn’t let yourself get so wasted tonight, wished you'd have taken him coming closer to you as a sign to not make tonight ‘like old times’. You realized that you wanted it to be new times—times where Jake was here. Things were different with him around.
And now that you were so far away from the beginnings of him living with you, seeing him show bits of himself, outside of his shroud, throughout June. . . knowing what his lips tasted like—you could admit that having him around was a good type of different.
Your mouth opened, needing his tongue to meet yours. As soon as it entered your mouth, you sucked on it, loving the taste, the feeling of it, safe in your mouth.
Needing to be closer to him, you leaned up the slightest bit. You had to feel your skin against his. Closer, closer.
You separated your mouth from his, your lips wet, probably looking just like his: swollen and pink.
His eyes were dark, lids hooded, encouraging you. You tugged at his shirt, and he got the idea. Thanks to not buttoning his shirts all the way, he was able to slip his short sleeve floral button down over his head. As he did that, you reached around the hem of your old T-shirt, taking it off.
But before you could throw it to the side, he reached a hand out to grab it, turning the front of it to face you. The members of Cream, staring at you from the splotch of white on black material.
“Does it get you off?” He questioned, an eyebrow raised. “Turning me on with these little outfits you wear to the shows?”
You smirked, your eyes hazing with want for him. He’d liked your choice of shirt. It hadn’t irritated him. You had made progress. You weren’t at square one anymore. Thank God.
“You liked it?” You rhetorically asked. “You were all I thought about when I put it on.”
His eyes glazed over, just like your own. He liked that.
He huffed, his mouth forming a grin before leaning down to nip at your lips, throwing the shirt to the side. His hands found your thighs, lifting them around his hips. He sucked your bottom lip, moving his tongue to lick into your mouth, his mouth following yours as you melted into the feeling, needing more.
You pushed him away again, using the time he was leaned back to take your shorts off. He helped you so you didn’t have to awkwardly wriggle out of them. You flashed your eyes at him, smiling with them.
Then once they were gone, you sat up fully, legs falling from around his hips, to help him. You messed with the button of his jeans.
He placed his hand over yours, stopping you. You looked up to question him. And as you did, he was already laying you back down, honed in on the sight of your chest that hadn’t stopped heaving since you’d kissed him.
“Did you think of me when you put this on?” He pulled at the strap of your bra- the same bralette you’d had on the night you’d first kissed. His eyes looked down at the rest of your body, palms running smoothly up your thighs, and over the curves of your hips, giving them a firm squeeze that made you thrust up towards him. His eyes found yours, completely dark. “Don’t start with that.”
Okay, I will, you thought, ready to tease him.
You moved a leg to be between both of his, bending it at the knee, causing it to rub against his crotch ever so slightly, then you brought it back down to lay beside your other leg, looking up at him, eyes innocent.
“Oops,” you smirked, watching his own lips quirk.
But as soon as his mouth lifted, it fell into a frown. His eyes squeezed shut, brows drew in, his jaw suddenly set as he ground his teeth. . .
He looked . . . Frustrated?
He started shaking his head and quickly grabbed his shirt, going to get off the bed.
What the fuck?
It made you sit up again, like you had minutes before, but out of alarm this time.
“Jake?” You worriedly asked, getting off your bed to follow him, clothes be damned.
He didn’t respond, only grumbled something under his breath. You couldn’t understand him and you were wondering what in the hell was going on.
As you followed him out of your room and a few steps to his room at the end of the hallway, you grabbed his arm before he could open the door to his room.
“What’s going on? Are you—?.”
He roughly shook your hand off of his arm.
“Y/n. Go to bed,” he gruffly said, his next words made your throat tighten up even more than his initial tone. “It was a fucking mistake and you need to leave me alone. Go to bed.”
Your mind was suddenly on high alert, ignoring any kind of lingering effects of alcohol, you swallowed the lump in your throat.
What the fuck was his fucking problem?
A mistake? That's what you were?
“Jake. . .,” you went to grab his arm again, but he turned before you could, facing you. His eyes were stern, dark with anger. It stunned you, so opposite of how he’d been all night. You continued on, not letting his reaction to you, deter you, “You don’t. . .,” swallow the tears, y/n. “You don’t mean that.”
“I do,” he confirmed. Your chest tightened, you took a step back. “We can’t keep—just go to bed. Leave me alone.”
Your sadness quickly turned to bitterness. . . spitefulness. All of a sudden, you were extremely aware of your state of undress. You felt completely embarrassed from the rejection. You covered your body the best you could.
“Fine,” you turned quickly on your heel, needing to get away from him and back to the safety of your bedroom. You were suddenly feeling anxious, upset, and ready to recluse. “Good-fucking-night, Jake. I’ll give you what you want. I’ll leave you the fuck alone.”
“Wait, y/n,” you heard his voice behind you.
But you ignored him, gave him a taste of his own medicine.
Asshole. Fucking asshole. How could someone change so quickly? Be two different people in the span of minutes-time? He had just been telling you how he liked being close to you, he’d barely left you all night. . . Even approached you at the bar, for seemingly no reason but to simply be with you.
But now? Now you were a mistake.
Fuck him.
“Y/n. . .please, I’m just—.”
Sharply, you spun to face him once you’d made it to your bedroom. You cut him off. “Fuck you, Jake.”
You let your emotions reflect with an icy glare in his direction.
Just before you shut the door to your room, you saw his face, completely crestfallen.
When you got back into bed, you curled up into yourself, and angry tears were your sad lullaby to get to sleep. You tried to be quiet enough so he wouldn’t possibly hear you.
You’d had enough embarrassment for one night and you didn’t want to give him any more reason to judge you, be angry with you, or worst of all—pity you.
As you fell asleep that night, you couldn’t help but think that his sorrowful expression had matched exactly how you felt. Had he been sad? What gave him the right to be sad when he’d cut it off? Called it a mistake?
You worked to push him as far from your mind as you possibly could. You didn’t want to think of him.
He was impossible to understand. As soon as you thought you had an idea of the man, he changed, confusing the hell out of you.
You tossed and turned, wondering why you still so desperately wanted to understand him. Why did it still matter? He shouldn’t matter.
When you finally faded to a restless sleep, you made the decision that you were going to try your hardest to not give a fucking damn about your roommate.
You apparently weren’t worth his time, so he shouldn’t be worth yours.
You’d meant what you told him.
Fuck Jake Kiszka.
-🌼🌼🌼-
As the week faded into the next, you’d made it your personal mission to make it perfectly clear to him that you were not giving him any of your time or attention.
You used one of his earlier tactics and didn’t come out for anything except to eat, shower, go to work, go to class. You tried to avoid seeing him when you knew he was home, so thankful for the work schedules that still got posted on the fridge.
He now had the additional schedule which showed when they had performances or practices, giving you a couple nights within that week to laze around the apartment with no worries of running into him.
Occasionally, he tried to stop you to talk to you as you would pass each other. But you weren’t having it. You would cut him off with a wave, a short ‘no’ or a curt ‘goodbye’ as you left the apartment to do your own thing.
You wanted to make it clear that you were done with whatever the hell you two had been dancing around for the past month. What he didn’t need to know was that you were mostly doing it to convince yourself that you were done with it.
In the moments he tried to stop you, you would just get hurt all over again that he seemed to be so desperate to beat the dead fucking horse—explain his hateful words. That was all he could possibly want. What else?
And you didn’t want that.
Why did he seem so intent on stopping you to just explain what a mistake being with you had been?
Drawing a line was imperative.
You had to convince yourself that you didn’t still want him and that you didn’t have several passing thoughts of him throughout your days.
It was much harder than you’d anticipated. Being your roommate, he was still everywhere you turned. No matter how hard you tried to escape him, he was there. In your shared home, in your thoughts, in conversations with Josh. . .
And in your fucking dreams.
Several days during that blessed week of ignoring him, you woke up in a sweat wanting only him. Your body was calling out to be touched by him.
And then you had the weak moments. The ones when you’d accidentally run into him, and you wanted to let your guard down, let him know you were hurting more than anything. You wanted to talk to him— wanted to know where he stood.
But every time, you'd bit your tongue to stop yourself.
He’d said it himself—you were a mistake.
So, that’s why you never gave in to the temptation to let him talk, or let him know your own feelings about it all.
-🌼🌼🌼-
Classes were a great distraction from what was going on in your heart and home.
Being able to dedicate your time to something completely unrelated to your roommate was exactly what you needed.
Spending more time on things like class work meant less time to think about Jake.
Though, it wasn’t necessarily doing what your family had intended it to. They’d wanted you to take a summer class to get your mind focused back on writing, use the class as a chance to get your passion for writing back.
But just as it had been before the summer class, your love—your passion for writing just wasn’t there anymore.
For some reason, when Jake had come into your life, it'd helped you realize for the first time in years, just how important music was to you. He brought out this spark that had faded. Being able to be around someone so often who was on the same page when it came to a passion for the art of music—it had done something impeccable for you.
(He’d done it unintentionally—unknowingly—, of course, as he’d hated your guts when you’d started feeling that incredible pull towards music again.)
And then there was the day in your summer class that pieces started clicking in your head. Slight identity crisis, if you may.
It had come to you when you’d been prompted to discuss and write about inspirations for pursuing writing. And in that moment, you’d realized you couldn’t think of any other reason you’d pursued your degree save for you wanting to be just like Elsie. (And the added bonus of your grandfather encouraging against a pursuit in a musical degree- at all costs.)
You’d set your sights on Elsie years ago as your number one role model. Your mother had left you with only your older sister to inspire you. Elsie loved writing, so in turn, you’d decided that you would also love writing.
It was her dream. And, unfortunately, you were only just now realizing that maybe it wasn’t fully yours, as you embarked on your senior year of college.
Terrible timing for Jake to enter your life and bring out that flame you’d always had for music.
Another strange thing that had come along with Jake entering the picture were thoughts of your mother. More than you’d ever really had before.
Thanks to Elsie having to use your forgotten past to help you have a better understanding of Jake, your mom had been in more thoughts than you were comfortable with as of late.
You hated thinking of her. But after that conversation, every time you saw a child with his or her mother, you had this giant burst of longing in your heart that you couldn’t put a name to.
It was truly odd, but the sight brought you this sense of impending healing.
Were you finally on a path to figuring out who you truly were in the aftermath of her leaving?
You had no clue what the pull on your heart meant.
All you knew was, there were a lot of changing feelings that were quite different than anything you’d felt in the past several years of your life. In those many years since your mother had left you broken on the porch step at ten years old—you’d simply gone about everything in life in a sort of monotone style.
Rather than thinking with your heart, you’d just followed a gray wave. You’d never taken a real initiative to understand yourself. The waves of life had carried you, and you’d let them, willingly.
It had been easier—more comfortable— than actually taking time to think about yourself and what you wanted.
But Jake. . .he’d been the cause of bringing about the most feelings you’d had since your mother left in her blaze of glory. He’d brought out pieces of you that you hadn’t come in contact with since you were ten years old and vulnerable, screaming and crying for your mom to come back as she left you, broken.
But with the feelings this time, it truly felt more like a yearning to be more. You felt this sense of understanding for yourself that you hadn’t ever had before.
In some backwards way, he was helping you get to know these pieces of yourself you’d kept in the dark for far too long. Pieces that needed time, attention, and love.
It was fucking weird.
You didn’t understand the anatomy of it all.
But you desperately wanted to learn more about these parts of yourself you were discovering.
-🌼🌼🌼-
In order to push through the class (and your degree), you decided it was a good idea to pair up with a study buddy.
You needed someone to help motivate you to keep going—finish with a skip in your step, rather than falling into a pitiful slump.
It’s why you decided to ask Theo to be that person after class one day.
Surely that was a reason he’d floated back into your life. Help you stay motivated to get this degree. You didn’t know.
And maybe it could be more. . .he would end up assisting to help you get your mind away from Jake. You didn’t need to be distracted by your roommate.
Everything happens for a reason, after all. And maybe these were Theo’s reasons in your life.
He’d agreed with no hesitation, which had made a giant smile plaster to your face.
But why, when you were leaving class, had you felt as though something had fallen to the bottom of your gut?
-🌼🌼🌼-
“Fiction or non?”
You were splayed out on your bedroom floor, with Theo across from you. As he’d pored over his textbook, he kept coming up with questions to ask you.
Sure, it might be cute and endearing in a normal circumstance. But right now, you wanted to focus on studying for a couple of upcoming tests, as summer semesters were the worst at moving so damn quickly.
There were more important matters at hand than nonsensical small talk.
Deciding to humor him (and hopefully get back to the task at hand), you responded. “Hmm. . .,” you sat up from where you’d been laying on your stomach to read about Geoffrey Chaucer. “They both have special things about them—both stretch our minds to understand more about other worlds and our own,” you paused, giving it a second to ponder. “Are we talking writing-wise or reading-wise?”
He chuckled, and winked at you. “It doesn’t have to be something you think so deeply about,” he closed his textbook. What was he doing? You still had to make flash cards! “Pretend we’re playing a game and it’s rapid fire questions.”
You didn’t want to be playing a game. You wanted to be sinking your teeth into the intricacies of this author in order to ace your test.
You shook your head, your eyes stuck on his closed book. “Fuck,” you scratched your eyebrow. Your mind flicked to music: fun to write and read about. You were actually currently reading a book about John Lennon. You had many books on your TBR list about famous musicians. A most intriguing subject, in your opinion. “Non-fiction.”
His face scrunched up. “Nah,” he disagreed. “Fiction.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know,” his stare was blank in response. “Don’t really have to think too hard about it.”
You tried not to roll your eyes at him. In your opinion, thinking hard about what you were writing or reading was what made it most desirable. It made you venture into undiscovered realms of your mind.
When you went to lean back over your book, the movement made you realize just how badly your bladder was begging to be released.
Stupidly, you thought of the ridiculous work schedule on the fridge.
Why the hell couldn’t you just let yourself go to the damn bathroom without thinking about Jake? You knew it was fucking ludicrous. You just didn’t want to see him. When you pulled up the picture of the fridge on your phone, you saw you were in the clear. He should still be at band rehearsal.
You tapped your open book, giving Theo a sign that he needed to open his back up. “I’m going to the bathroom real quick,” you stood up, the wave of having to pee rushing through you tenfold at the motion. He still hadn’t gotten the hint to open up his textbook. Ugh. “I’ll be back soon and then we will make our cards for the test.”
And as you exited the room, you saw him finally get back to business and open his book back up.
-🌼🌼🌼-
You dried your hands on the towel next to the sink, and took a look at yourself in the mirror.
He sort of annoyed you, but Theo was still cute, and he’d made you happy in high school. You weren’t totally opposed to the idea of kissing him (or maybe more) by the end of the night.
It seemed to you to be another good plan to get your mind off of Jake.
And Theo seemed interested enough. Considering he’d been more interested in learning about you, rather than the material for class all night (irritating, but whatever).
Deciding you looked good enough to return, you opened the door to go back. And as you went to walk out, you stopped at a chest in your way. You got dizzy at the smell—smelled so fucking good—familiar. . .
You looked up.
Jake.
Your eyebrows pinched together, not happy at all that you’d crossed paths. Fucking hell. Why wasn’t he. . .?
“We’ve gotta stop meeting like thi—.”
You held a hand up to silence him, crossing your arms. “Why aren’t you at band practice?”
Why the fuck was he cracking jokes? You were not in the mood.
“Ended early,” his face hardened when he shrugged, stating it plainly.
“Why didn’t you just stay with the guys?” You asked, secretly glad he didn’t. For whatever reason. “You could have hung out with them instead of coming back here.”
“Oh,” he stuck his chin out at the word and leaned a shoulder against the door-hinge. He raised a brow and crossed his arms to mirror you. “I see.”
You definitely didn’t glance at how his bicep flexed as his fingers wrapped around it. And you didn’t take time to appreciate his beautiful hair. . . had it started getting slightly longer?
You shook your head, retraining your eyes.
“Tell me, Jake, what do you see?” You snapped, flicking your eyes up to his.
He scoffed, rolled his eyes. “Saw that guy lying on your bedroom floor, waiting for you. He was even sweet enough to wave at me when he saw me pass your room,” he sarcastically remarked, waving his hand to mimic.
“We’re just studying,” you hushed back, feeling the (unnecessary) need to reassure him.
He scoffed. “You think that’s all it is to him?”
You narrowed your eyes and pursed your lips before you pulled him by his T-shirt into the bathroom. You weren’t going to discuss this in a place Theo could possibly hear.
“I know that’s all it is,” you released his shirt like you were repulsed by the touch, when in reality you wanted nothing more than to pull it completely off of him. Damn him. "Why does it matter?"
“It doesn’t. Just think it’s funny how you’re so naive to believe he doesn’t want more.”
“He doesn’t.”
“Do you?”
“Why do you care?”
“I don’t. I just think it’s also a little funny that you might want me out just so you can fuck that guy in your bedroom,” he nodded his head in the direction of your room.
Oh. He was taking it there. Okay.
“Yeah? And if I wanted to?” You jutted your chin out the slightest bit, bringing your arms closer, to press against your chest. “How is it any of your damn business?”
He stepped once towards you, eyeing your chest, the tops of your breasts revealed, pushed up to the top of your tank. Your skin flushed, heart racing.
His voice lowered. “It became my business the night you spread your legs for me at Baby’s,” one more step towards you, his eyes locking with yours. Fuck. “When I had you moaning my name while my mouth played between your pretty legs,” another step. “I think you gave yourself away that night. I don’t buy this little act.”
Oh.
Fuck. . . If your heart wasn’t racing.
You blinked, shaking your head. You tried to stand firm. “Wh-what act?” Dammit. Why were you stuttering?
Stand your ground, y/n, you thought, motivating yourself to stay strong.
But as he took one more step in, your body was effectively once again trapped between his body and a sink. Thankfully, he hadn’t pressed himself up to your front, so you weren’t distracted by that.
You tried to hold your own.
But shit. . .he was so close. Your skin flared with heat, your heart still beating erratically in your chest.
As you were making direct eye contact with the chest of his white t-shirt, you craned your neck to see his face fully.
“What act, Jacob?”
He shook his head. A little smirk played at his mouth. He brought his hand up to hold your cheek. Your skin was on fire for him and his touch.
You couldn’t help it when you leaned into his hand, letting your cheek press into his calloused flesh.
He licked his lips. “You tell me,” he whispered lowly, nodding his head once at you.
And you couldn’t help it, his deep brown eyes pulled you in. He was begging to be touched. You had to feel him.
Leaning in, you held his cheek just as he held yours. He then took the chance, and captured your lips with his.
Ah. His lips. So soft.
Your vision was hazy, eyes still open, you saw how his eyebrows dipped in with a moan. You matched the sound, closing your eyes, and slipped your tongue into his mouth, tangling it with his.
You heard him shut the door with the hand that wasn’t holding your face.
He then moved that hand from your face, reaching both hands under your ass, giving it a firm squeeze before he lifted you the short distance to sit on the bathroom countertop.
You bit his bottom lip, getting another small moan from him. He did the same to you and then soothed the spot with his tongue. You sighed into his mouth.
Reaching both hands up, you sunk them into his dark, brunette locks. He matched every movement of your lips with his own, and then licked one wet stripe on the roof of your mouth.
You were able to gasp for air when he moved his mouth from yours to give the softest, small kisses to your neck. Though it didn’t last long before he turned his pecks into wet, open-mouthed kisses. The slightest stubble of hair on his lip skimmed against your sensitive skin. He worked from under your jaw, all the way up, to the tender spot behind your ear.
Shivering with a sigh, you gripped his hair tighter, pulling him in as close as he could be to you, on the counter. You felt his hardening length against your center when you did so, making you immediately grind into him.
And when he did the same to the other side of your neck, this time, he nipped at the skin behind your ear. You bucked your hips into his. He released a groan that echoed through the small bathroom, making you want to melt into it.
“More,” you breathed, clutching him closer, making sure the front of you stayed connected to him. Feeling his hard length through the material of his jeans was almost too much, but you craved it. You needed it.
More.
But, the next moment, you heard a little cough from your bedroom, right next door.
It snapped you from your daze. You were suddenly hyper aware that it was not just you two in the apartment. You had to stop.
You pushed him back, jumping off the counter. When you looked in the mirror to check your face and neck, your lips were swollen and your cheeks were flushed. Your neck was still pink from where he’d been. You checked where he’d bit behind your ear, and seeing the redness back there made you want to hop right back onto that counter. Let him have his way with you— right there. Theo be fucking damned.
But you knew better.
Tucking some hair behind your ear, you tried to make yourself look slightly presentable.
From behind you, he was brushing a hand through his hair, when he went to smooth a hand over his cheeks, his jaw stretching with the motion. He was contemplative.
His eyebrows drew together, curious. You couldn’t tell if he was upset. He mostly looked . . .confused.
He removed his hand from his face when his eyes found yours in the mirror, open and wondering. He looked desperate to understand.
“What do you want, y/n?”
You didn’t know what in the hell to tell him.
You wanted Jake. And you wanted him bad. But somehow saying it out loud seemed too difficult at the moment.
And how could you say that to him when he’d so recently, blatantly told you that you were a mistake?
“I don’t know, Jake,” you whispered back, still looking at your blushing cheeks, messy hair, and freshly kissed lips. You’d need a minute to let your skin return to its normal shade before going back to your room.
You turned to face him.
When you saw him, looking so beautiful, so lost. . . You thought of how lost you’d felt for the past couple weeks. His words were once again flashing back through your head.
“It was a fucking mistake and you need to leave me alone.”
It still hurt as you could see him so clearly in the doorway of his bedroom, angry and insistent that you do what he said and leave him alone.
But tonight? Crowding you in here to make out on the bathroom counter? Did he truly want that? For you to leave him alone?
“What do you want?” You leveled him with a stare, your tone sharp, but keeping your voice low since Theo was one room over. You pointed a finger in his chest. “You say you want me to leave you alone, but then you trap me in here like this?”
He shook his head, a dimple showing again with a sarcastic grin. After tucking a lock of hair behind his ear, he put the same hand in his pocket.
“Oh, there is no way you are going to turn this around on me,” he matched your quiet tone, understanding. “And trap you? Okay, Little Miss ‘Fuck Me, Jake,’” he used air quotes to remind you of your words from the night at Baby’s.
Fuck.
Of course he remembered you’d said that. Why wouldn’t he?
You decided to ignore it, focusing back on him.
“You’re the one who said it was a mistake! That I needed to leave you alone,” you protested, anger flaring in your chest.
He covered his eyes with a hand, the veins in the hand catching your eye. You’d never noticed how masculine his hands were. And damn if he didn’t know how to use them . . . Even in this moment, debating with him, you wanted them touching every part of you. You wanted his skilled fingers, flexing inside of you.
“I didn’t mean it like that!” His eyes were sad when he moved his hand, when you saw the brown irises again. But there was a fire behind them still. “Dammit, y/n. Why do you insist on assuming the worst about me all the fucking time? I’m not the one who can’t make up my mind about what I want,” he leaned back against the wall behind him, crossing his arms. “One minute you’re kissing me. You’re with me, naked and ready as I’m pressing into you,” his voice was being raspy, along with the picture he was drawing. . . It made your cheeks pink. You could still feel what he felt like, pressing against you, throbbing. . .so close to being inside of you. He went on, “And the next moment you’re shoving me away from you, making sure to tell me that Josh doesn’t need to know what we’re doing.”
Of course some of this had to do with Josh. You’d had the smallest inkling, based on how weird he’d acted when you set the rules.
Stupid.
“I knew you were making it all weird with Josh. . . is this all about Josh?! You know that he and I—.”
“No! It’s about you and how you make it impossible for us to—.”
“You told me to go away!”
“And you told me to stop,” he said back, his smoky voice still hushed. “More than once.”
Your chest heaved, knowing he was right, but you were so lost on how to explain it all. “There were reasons every time.”
“Reasons,” he scoffed. “So are you going to keep having these reasons? Keep stopping it? Why do you keep letting it happen if all you’re going to do is make us stop?”
“Last time you stopped us, Jake!” You defended, focusing on keeping your voice low. “Not me. You walked away and called it a mistake.”
He covered his face with both hands, growling. You shushed him.
He took his hands away to show his jaw set, clenching with frustration. “You were drunk, y/n!” He begged you to understand, “I wasn’t going to do anything with you without you being in full and total control of yourself.”
You were sure your expression showed it all clicking. You blinked at him. It all made so much sense now.
And what he’d done? His true intentions? Fuck. Sexy as hell.
Maybe you really did need to stop assuming the worst. You just couldn’t help it. It was a trauma response. Jumping to conclusions, thinking that people didn’t want you. . .
Your mom didn’t want you, so you were always convinced other people wouldn’t either.
Especially men who were as beautiful and mesmerizing as Jake Kiszka.
Damn. Now it really was all on you. How did you even begin to lay it all out?
You looked him dead in the face, completely unsure of how to articulate the mess in your head.
“I don’t know,” you covered your face with both hands, mimicking him and frustratedly groaning into your palms. When you removed them from your face, you tucked them into your front pockets. You decided to assure him of one thing. For whatever reason, you wanted—needed him to know this. “I do want you. I want what we almost had in the bathroom at Baby’s,” You stepped towards him, wanting to be close to him again. You placed a delicate hand on his chest. He looked down at you, as you looked up into his eyes, reaching to hold your hand on his chest. Your skin tingled at his touch. “I need to feel you, to be with you. . . it just never seems like the right time. There’s always something.”
You didn’t know why you’d suddenly felt the urge to be vulnerable with him. He kept your hand on his chest, holding you, his eyes meeting yours in understanding.
And you knew then that it was just him. Jake Kiszka, in and of himself, made you feel this strange sense of safety, comfortability.
And it was different from the kind his twin had offered you as your friend for so many years.
With Jake, you weren’t just friends. You weren’t even really friends. . .it was something else—an intense, unavoidable attraction. The safe feeling came combined with this desire to be with him.
He felt like a resting ground.
It was weird.
But you liked it.
He smoothed a thumb over your hand on his chest. You held his deep gaze, getting lost in it.
And out of nowhere, he leaned down, kissing your lips with his. Just for a moment.
You felt it all the way down to your toes. The feeling of him so close, with one simple kiss from his soft lips, it felt perfectly intimate.
He released his hold on your hand, wrapping his hand around your waist instead, eyes connected with yours. It was as though he just wanted to touch you, have his hands on you.
It was what you wanted, too. Just the feeling of his hand, as it moved down to just over your hip, his thumb on the skin underneath the hem of your gray tank top. . .it felt right.
He penetrated the thickness in the air with his low, gravelly tone. His eyes were vulnerable as he asked, “Do you want that? To find the right time?”
You reached a hand up, holding his handsome face. You smoothed a thumb over his skin, tracing a freckle on his cheek. “I do. I promise I do,” you blinked up at him, needing his answer to that question. “And do you? Wanna find the right time?”
This was so much, butterflies flew rampant in your tummy.
The grin he gave you was loose, his eyes relieved and open. “I really do.”
It felt so amazing to hear it straight from his lips. He really wanted it too.
You’d overthink all of this later.
He leaned down to kiss you again. You reciprocated, for just a moment, letting your lips move with his.
Then you pulled back, your hand falling from his face.
You nodded at the door. “I gotta get back to studying.”
His hand that was holding your hip squeezed slightly, your skin heating at it. You caught his eye, the intense feeling setting in your beating heart.
“Is that all you’re doing?” His eyes were dark and questioning, making your head spin. “Studying?”
You winked at him, still holding onto your teasing from earlier. “It’s whatever I want it to be.”
His eyes seemed to darken more, pulling you in so your chest touched his. So warm. “I really don’t want to hear another guy fucking you through these walls.”
You pressed closer to him, your body thrumming with fire. “Funny coming from the guy who told me I could just wear earplugs when he brought women over,” then you pulled back, his hand fell. His eyebrow lifted, a tiny smirk lifted his lips. You continued, “Why don’t you go ahead and get a pair of your own, hm?”
You patted his cheek, reluctantly parting from him. Before leaving the bathroom, you chanced one more glance at your appearance. Not quite as flushed as before, though your cheeks were still blushing. You’d find a way to pass it off. Whatever. You’d been gone too long.
You were about to open the bathroom door when, from behind, his voice stopped you. You felt a spark as his hand delicately touched yours.
“Hey.”
You swiveled on your heel, raised your brows in question. “Yeah?”
“Do you think you could come to our gig this weekend? It’s a bigger one.”
Did you work this weekend? You couldn’t remember.
All you knew was that, suddenly, you really wanted to be at their show.
“I’m not sure . . . Depends on work.”
“I would love—,” he put a fist in front of his mouth and cleared his throat. “The guys and I would love it if you could be there,” he shook his head, seeming to come to terms with an inner battle. “For me, I would just love to look out and see your beautiful face in the crowd.”
Your mind was fuzzy. All of this felt so unreal, yet so real all at once. He really wanted you there? And had he just called you beautiful?
“I’ll try my best,” you slapped on a small grin, trying to play hard to get, masking your inner shock. You wanted to keep him on his toes, like he’d kept you for the past weeks.
He scrunched his brows in and messed with his bottom lip. “Yeah,” he nodded, clearing his throat. “Yeah, totally get it. Just text me and let me know.”
Anytime he messed with his mouth, it was a distraction. You had to keep yourself from watching too close. It really didn’t help that you knew the feeling of those full, pink lips. . .
And as you walked the short distance to your bedroom, you realized something else.
Had he just asked you to text him?
What was all of this? This new territory you had just discovered?
-🌼🌼🌼-
And a couple nights later, when you were sitting on the couch watching New Girl, Jake came to sit at his end of the couch.
Once you’d finished the episode he’d sat down to watch with you, he cleared his throat, making you look over at him.
He was already looking at you. It made your stomach flurry. You decided to look back at the TV, nervous under his gaze.
He spoke, keeping your ear in his direction, you paused the show. “We should start the series over. You know, start at the beginning together.”
You smirked, feeling a rush of giddy happiness and excitement buzz through you.
“Yeah, sure,” you coolly respond, starting the show from scratch.
And as Jess began the first episode, you peeked quickly over at him, a content smile resting on his lips as he lounged at his end of the sofa.
-🌼🌼🌼-
And for the next few nights, Jake kept coming back. He would sit on the couch with you, simply to watch your show.
Just to share that quiet time at the end of each day with you.
Whenever he would come to sit down, your nerves would translate to a dizziness of butterflies in your stomach.
Though, it felt like the most natural thing in the world to laugh with him, share popcorn or pizza, look at each other when a character would say something particularly hilarious. . .
But neither of you ever moved to kiss the other. You know . . . make it anything more than two people watching a TV show.
It almost seemed like an unspoken rule that you were not doing that again . . .
. . .yet.
Both of you, seeming to wait for the right time.
But you sure liked those quiet nights.
These nights with him made your house feel like a home. . . comfortable and safe.
-🌼🌼🌼-
On Friday night, you got off work a little early.
It was the night before the guys’ show, so Jake obviously wasn’t home due to a last minute rehearsal and details. You'd seen as much on the rehearsal schedule on the fridge.
You took your time showering, shaving, exfoliating, pampering yourself fully, with the apartment to yourself. . .
Once finished, you realized you really wanted to watch New Girl. Even though Jake wasn’t home, you were in the middle of one of your favorite parts of the show. You had to watch the next couple of episodes.
You’d just rewind to watch again when he was home next.
You couldn’t help it. The two of you had been binging and you'd come to your favorite part in the whole show. It was arguably the best part—what the audience waits for from practically the first episode.
Jess and Nick were finally about to bite the bullet, get their shit together and get together.
And as you sat with a couple slices of warmed up cheese pizza from the night before, cuddled up with Stevie purring against your blanket covered thighs. . .something clicked.
As they looked at each other throughout the whole episode of “Cooler,” you were angry with them. So angry that they were so close to finally being together, yet so far. . .
“Not like this!” Nick said to Jess, stopping her from kissing him. He suddenly sounded and looked very much like you had felt recently.
He looked desperate to make it the best it could be, get Jess to understand that it had to be just right. They’d waited long enough, and he wanted it to feel like it deserved to.
You couldn’t stop it when it pulled you right back to your real life. Your current situation.
And if you were upset with Nick and Jess for piddling around and not just acting on their feelings, not letting loose when it was so obvious they needed to . . . Then why the hell were you dragging it out so damn long with Jake?
You felt like the two of you were essentially Nick and Jess. You were roommates, with so much building between you—everything and nothing to lose all at once.
You wanted to act on it. You wanted it all. It was time.
No, it was past time.
And as Nick and Jess finally kissed, you decided.
The gig was tomorrow. You were off work early enough to go. . .
You were going to the show, and you weren’t going to stop anything that may happen afterwards this time.
-🌼🌼🌼-
As you left for work the next morning, you noticed a piece of paper sitting on the dining room table with your name on it, along with a sticky attached to it with an address and a little scribbled note underneath.
Just in case
-J
Your tummy fluttered.
You’d been running late, so you hadn’t had time to look at it, tucking it into your bag to look at later.
-🌼🌼🌼-
In the quietness of the record store, you opened it up to find the setlist.
Grinning, you checked it over. Every song on the list were ones you knew. Save for one near the bottom.
Edge of Darkness.
Suddenly curious about the song, you wondered. . . Was this song the reason he wanted you there?
-🌼🌼🌼-
Due to stupid-ass New York traffic and thinking you’d let Stevie run out of the apartment, only to find her hidden behind clothes in your closet, you were running roughly forty-five minutes late for their gig.
You’d texted Jake to let him know you were running late, but hadn’t received a text back. Momentarily, you’d been afraid of him being upset with you for being late, your stomach falling when he hadn’t responded for the thirty-ish minute drive to the venue after you’d sent it.
Then, you realized he was on stage performing, so of course he wouldn’t respond.
Whenever you’d sent the text, your hands had been extremely shaky, checking your text a million times for grammatical errors, even after you’d sent it. It was seriously like a ridiculous high school crush.
Dumb.
You still believed that if you just fucked him and got it out of your system, some of those juvenile feelings would come to pass.
As an adult woman, you didn’t need to care so deeply for how a man might respond to you. There was no use for that, and you thought yourself ludicrous for it.
Though, you really did feel terrible as traffic took so long, delaying your arrival to the venue. Your normal road rage came out a few times, honking your horn and cursing as people would drive several miles below the speed limit in front of you.
You just wanted to get there.
-🌼🌼🌼-
When you did get there, the guys were playing their hearts out as you had to squeeze through a mass of sweaty, singing bodies, alcohol sloshing whenever you’d pass through.
The establishment had two levels, so you decided to climb some stairs to watch from a higher level, hoping for less of a crowd from that vantage point.
And when you’d made it up there, you realized it was still crowded. But it wasn’t nearly as bad as below. You found a semi-clear space to claim, a thankfully nice view of all of the guys.
The first thing you noticed when you looked at Josh was his hair. He’d told you recently that he was trying to grow it out on the sides, going for a full head of curling hair. You hadn’t seen him recently enough to see the progress, though, and it looked great on him.
“All right!” Josh had screamed into the mic, hyping up the packed house, receiving screams from everyone watching. Jake strummed a little note which made you immediately hone in on him, but he seemed irritated, strumming a few more times, shaking his head.
Josh glanced over at his twin, sensing the issue, and he smiled back at the crowd. “How we feeling?!” He raised his hands, eliciting more screams as Jake continued strumming, finally gaining some help from someone in their little backstage crew. The curly headed twin gave Jake another look, but Jake’s back was turned as he worked with the crew member to get the problem figured out.
Josh walked over to his twin, checking out the problem for himself. They were having the smallest conversation before Jake shook his head at Josh, and then the crew member. He turned around, effectively giving up on the issue. He played another chord, checking, but his brows were still drawn in with irritation.
What was going on? Was he okay? You suddenly had an incredibly impulsive urge to go check on him. But you stood your ground as he felt out a few more notes, shrugging shortly and giving a curt nod to Josh as a go ahead.
Josh once again smiled so wide it looked like it hurt. You could tell he was trying his hardest to alleviate any sort of tension for the crowd. Fortunately, the crowd seemed oblivious, playing into it as a sort of bit, it seemed.
You took a few seconds to send a text to your sweet, empathetic friend to let him know you were there and that you wanted to get a drink after the show.
You hated seeing him stressed- especially on stage. You were feeling it with him and with Jake.
“How about a new one?” He asked, receiving a plethora of yells and screams. You smiled with the crowd. “This next one is called Edge of Darkness. . .and it’s about. . .the edge of darkness.”
You giggled at him. He was a great frontman. The people were soaking it all up, laughing with him, and screaming for more.
But you had to check back in on Jake. He seemed to be doing better, still upset, but he smiled tightly to a few screaming girls in front.
He started playing, his face saying that something was not blending together like you knew he wanted it to. But you couldn’t tell the difference, so you knew the crowd couldn’t, either.
It didn’t stop him from turning to check the amp a couple more times before suddenly, he was ripping through the most erotic guitar solo you’d ever heard him play live.
Fuck. The song was called the ‘Edge of Darkness’, and it was ironic because you felt like you were on the edge of some kind of dark shit. Watching him manipulate those strings with such precision and intent, his hips fucking (yes, fucking) into his guitar. It was unlike anything else he’d ever done with that guitar. . .you were absolutely sure of it.
You were sweating. And you knew it wasn’t from proximity to any people around you. No, it was from watching him go to this secret place that you wanted to join.
His facial expressions were driving you insane. All you could imagine was seeing those faces above you as your body replaced the guitar. Bent over, with him fucking into you with the same vigor he was giving his instrument.
Then he threw it behind his fucking head. It got you every. time. He made it look so effortless— so easy for him to balance it there (though you knew it wasn’t), while he still played all of the intricate chords. He was a natural—a true rockstar.
You wondered what else he was a natural at.
You were squirming underneath your skin, your palms were clammy and when you moved a bit, you noticed your thong was uncomfortably damp between your legs. And your jeans made it impossible to move to fix the issue.
These solos of his. . .fuck. They were the sole cause for your sexual frustration after these shows. Why you’d had to replace vibrators in the past month.
But tonight? Tonight, you wouldn’t need the help of your hand or a tool. No, tonight, you planned on going home with him— to take care of it with his help.
-🌼🌼🌼-
But as you waited out in the bar area after the show, after sending Jake a text on how well he did, you were met with radio silence on his end.
It sat there, glaring at you in the blue bubble.
You, 10:43 p.m.: You fuckin killed it. So glad I came.
It had now been several minutes since the show had ended and since you’d sent the message, and looking at the time on your phone, you realized it had now been closer to an hour.
What was taking them so long? Their crew packed their shit up now . . . so where were they?
You weren’t able to wonder too much longer, hearing Josh’s voice come up right behind you.
But he didn’t have his usual bounce. He sounded super pissed.
“Your roommate’s a dick,” he sat in the seat at the bar next to you. He ran two hands through his growing hair and then put both of his hands over his face. He sat there like that until the bartender came up, removing them when they asked what he wanted. “Strongest thing you have.”
“Josh?” You tentatively reached a hand out to touch his bare shoulder. He’d worn his little brown vest he loved so much, sans a shirt underneath. “You okay?”
When he looked at you, he looked sorry for how he’d been acting. And he said as much.
“I’m sorry, y/n. Jake just—,” he put his face into his crossed arms on the bar to growl, then he faced you again. “He’s been in a piss mood all fucking night, and when he’s mad, I feel it all the way down to my bones. I also just get really fed up with his little attitude he gets when something goes wrong. It’s annoying as hell and I get tired of it.”
You could relate—you also hated Jake’s pissant attitude when he was upset over something. Though, in this circumstance, you felt inclined to be the devil’s advocate.
“Josh. . .you also get upset when things go wrong. You’re the biggest perfectionist I know.”
“Apparently you don’t know Jake, then. And you’re one to talk!” He spat. Then he groaned again, his eyes sympathetic when he looked at you. “I’m sorry. I know. I agree with you. I’m sorry. He just. . . seemed off all night and it already bothers me when he’s upset over something and he wasn’t telling me everyth— my twin intuition always knows when he isn’t telling me everything. And tonight he sure as hell had something else on his mind that he refused to give any weight to,” the bartender came up with a shot of something. Josh threw it back, and shook his head, coughing just a bit. His eyes bulged the slightest bit.
You couldn’t help your little laugh at him. He needed that. Take the fucking edge off. “Strong like you wanted?”
He gave you a grin, his eyes easier than they were before. You relaxed, realizing you were absolutely feeling that tension with him. You felt especially better when he waved the server back over to ask for a salty dog. That’s more like it.
“Anyway,” he started, swiveling his body to be facing towards you, one arm on the bar. “Sam and Daniel didn’t even have to be subjected to it. They left to meet up with a couple of their other friends before he exploded on me. Just me! And they don’t get those same inklings from him that I do. Being a twin is both a blessing and a curse. I swear we fuckin’ share a brain sometimes.”
His movements, facing you like this on his barstool, made you think of when Jake had sat next to you like this—the night he’d kept you close, taken you home, and then cut things short. Everything you’d felt that night coming back tenfold.
. . . Where was he? It didn’t matter where he was. Really. But you were curious.
“Where is Jake?” You tried to play it cool, because that’s what you were. Cool. It was nothing. You went ahead and softened the question by complimenting his growing hair. “And I like your hair.”
“Thanks. Biotin vitamins, I swear to God,” he patted the sides of his ‘do, giving you a cheeky smirk. “And Jake—. Thank you,” he said to the bartender, giving her a quick wink as she sat his drink on his coaster. “He went back to your place. Didn’t wanna stay around for a good time. He was not in the mood.”
Your heart sank.
What? He’d gone home?
But he'd asked you to come tonight? Had he gotten your texts? Surely he had. There was no reason he wouldn’t’ve. All of a sudden, you felt extremely stupid for sending them. . .for thinking anymore of tonight than you should have. For worrying about him from the balcony. When he didn’t even care to stay to see you.
He was the most unpredictable asshole and you were foolish to think, for even a split second, that he wasn’t.
-🌼🌼🌼-
Luckily, Josh was ready to end the night fairly early.
You were glad because you weren’t in the mood to entertain after having your feelings hurt (stupidly) by Jake leaving and not telling you. It was the smallest thing to be upset over, you knew. Your heart had gotten ahead of you, and into something ridiculous.
On your drive home, you kept telling yourself that you were done with all Jake related thoughts. You shouldn’t give two shits about the man. Really. He’d been a jerk from day one. And even though he’d had a few instances of being someone so wonderful. . . he kept doing things that just reminded you that maybe he was just incapable of being consistent.
You were worried about what you’d go home to. Afraid of hearing him and a girl from his bedroom, seeing them on your couch. . . You were tired of not being able to keep up with him. It was exhausting.
And as much as you told yourself he didn’t matter, you knew you were lying to yourself. You’d made him matter the past couple months—let him matter. Too many times you’d let him get to you. And as much as you wanted to regret it, you couldn’t fully let yourself do that yet.
The stubborn, stupid part of you wanting to give him a chance. Wondering what had happened tonight that got him so upset.
You cared. . .even though you really wished you didn’t.
So as you traipsed through your front door, you were relieved when all of the lights were turned off, and there was no sight or sound of a woman. Only Stevie, who came up to purr against your calves. Feeling bad for your hungry kitty, you quickly went to drop your purse to the table so you could feed her.
But when you looked in her dish, there was already fresh kibble in the bowl. You hadn’t fed her before you’d left. . .
Had Jake . . .? Obviously. Your heart perked at the gesture.
Then, the sound of a guitar being strummed from his bedroom stopped your thoughts. Stevie went to eat, and you left her to do so as you walked towards the sound.
You weren’t choosing your path. . . your feet were simply leading you, your mind hardly keeping up with what you were going to do once you got to his room.
Just felt a want to see him. Talk to him.
Why?
You’d worry about that later. Didn’t want to think about that for the time being.
Once you got to his door, you noticed it wasn't fully closed. You didn’t think as you pushed it open.
And then, there you were. And there he was, facing the door, his concert attire still fully on. He looked up at you from his spot, stopping the strumming abruptly.
But his eyes weren’t kind. He wasn’t happy. He was still feeling the anger Josh had been talking about.
Not giving two shits how he’d react, you didn’t hold back. You were still pissed, too. At him.
“It’s not fucking kind to invite someone to something and then leave them there without a damn hello or goodbye.”
He blinked, his lip curling to show a sarcastic smile. “You’re gonna pull that shit?”
You stepped further into his room, coming close enough to him that your knees were almost touching his, where he sat at the edge of his bed, his hand clutching the acoustic with a tight grip. Too tight.
“What the fuck, Jake? Of course I’m going to ‘pull that shit.’ It was a fuckin’ prick move and I didn’t appreciate it.”
“It’s a prick move to keep someone waiting for a response about whether or not you’ll be somewhere when I can see damn well your schedule on that fridge, saying all week that you didn’t work tonight,” he got up to place his guitar on the stand next to his bed. He kept careful to not touch you as he moved. Wow. He placed it delicately, in stark contrast to his sharp movements. He spun on his heel to face you. “Why don’t you care, y/n? You don’t have to fucking come if you don’t care. I’d rather you stay home if you don’t want to be there when I invite you.”
“What made you think I don’t care?!”
“You kept me hanging! All week,” he angrily brushed a hand through his hair, growling with the motion when a ring got stuck in the locks. “Fuck!” He started pulling down his bed covers, not looking at you as he argued. “You don’t do that when it’s my brother. He wants you there, you’re fuckin’ there. With me, when I ask you, you’re always late and you barely even tell me you’re coming. It’s obvious who you’re really going to see and I’m tired of you acting like you care about me when you really only care about Josh.”
“What?! First of all, you knew I worked the night of your first show. I didn’t want to. . .I got fucking called in— so don’t you dare hold that against me!” You came closer to him, hitting his arm to make him stop the unmaking of his bed. “Quit doing that and fucking listen to me!”
He went rigid, throwing the covers dramatically, stopping like you asked. He stood stiff as a board with his arms crossed at his chest. He motioned a hand for you to continue, almost mocking. “Go on. Enlighten me.”
You shoved his chest. “Stop it!” You crossed your own arms, your heart beating so hard in your chest. “Stop with the Josh shit. Anytime either of you ask, I’m there. I’m sorry I didn’t let you know sooner about tonight. I’ve just been—I don’t know,” you’d been thinking about him. How badly you wanted to do him after the show tonight. “Distracted?”
“School?” He questioned, seeming genuinely concerned.
You shook your head, not wanting to lie. “No. Not school. I don’t know how to explain—,” you looked into his eyes. They were hardening again. “I don’t know. Just distracted.”
He shook his head. He was in the dark. There was no way he’d know the full truth unless you told him. But you weren’t sure how to articulate it. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, his jaw set. “Thank you, y/n. I’m going to bed. Goodnight.”
“Jake— seriously. Please sto—.”
“I just—dammit!” He combed a hand through his hair and got the same ring stuck. Having enough, he took the one piece of offensive jewelry off, and placed it delicately on his desk behind him. He locked eyes with you again. “The other night in the bathroom, you—I could have sworn you—but you—you told me— I just can’t keep up!”
“I can’t keep up with you!” You yelled back, momentarily worrying about neighbors. It was very late.
You were at a loss.
You surveyed him, his chest was heaving like yours. Walking a few steps forward, your chest was almost touching his— you softly grabbed at the front of his light red T-shirt, eager for him to hear. His breathing seemed to slow at you being so close. Your eyes held each other, his were questioning.
It was now or never. The frantic beating of your heart, sounding in your ears. You were shaking. You were tired of him thinking he knew best.
What you were most tired of was tiptoeing around—the barely missing each other.
“I’m only asking one more time. What do you want?” He begged, reminding you of Ryan Gosling in The Notebook.
You would have giggled at the similarity if you weren’t feeling the seriousness of this moment.
There was so much to say, but only one thing left to say, all at once. . .
You stood there, sharing breaths, for a few still seconds. Could have been minutes. You were lost in the beautiful gaze of his deep, dark eyes.
Your heart slowed, your breath catching in your throat while your stomach dropped to your knees.
“I want you to fuck me,” you said lowly, grabbing at his shirt with a sturdier hand. You weren’t scared—only sure. So fucking sure. And beyond ready.
His jaw went slack. It almost looked like he wanted to say something to challenge you, but he bit his lip. Instead, he grabbed softly at your jaw, curving his hand up to cradle your head, softly under your flowing hair.
“Well I can fucking do that.” Was all he said as he dove in, securing your lips with his.
He sucked on your bottom lip and penetrated your mouth with his smooth tongue. He tasted like minty gum and cigarettes. Usually, you found it repulsive to kiss someone with the taste of nicotine in their mouth, but with Jake . . . It was suddenly everything you’d ever wanted in a kiss.
You lost yourself in the moment. In him. There was nothing stopping you now.
Continuing to kiss you, he turned you both, until the backs of your legs softly hit the edge of his bed. Taking that as your cue, you went to sit down on the sheets. You unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, his delicious hips right at eye level with you now. He took initiative and pushed them the rest of the way down, stepping out of them.
Then all you could see in front of you was him, bursting at the seams in his pink, AE briefs. Fuck, he was so cute and sexy all at once. You didn’t know how he did it.
Your mouth watered as you went to pull down his briefs. But he put a hand on yours to stop you, the cold metal of his rings a contrast to your heated skin.
You looked up, your eyebrows dipping in question.
“Not yet,” he corrected. Then he took his shirt off, exposing his beautifully soft, tanned, and perfectly toned chest. A long necklace laid against his stomach, and you used it to pull him down to you.
You laid back, his legs coming to rest in between yours as he crawled onto the bed to follow you. He unwrapped the necklace from his neck, putting it on his small bedside table. Using the time he was preoccupied, you pushed his underwear down his thighs, watching his face to see his reaction.
He teasingly rolled his eyes at you.
“Damn, woman,” he chuckled under his breath, showing his perfectly straight teeth. Beautiful man. He finished the job, kicking them off. “One track mind or what?”
Rolling your eyes back at him, you gave a quiet grin and clicked your tongue. “Whatever, Kiszka.”
But he wasn’t wrong. You wanted to see him. Fully.
And you were glad you got your way, because fuck.
He was stunning. Even more so when you could fully see it, without the dimness of the bathroom lights at Baby's. How could a cock be so pretty?
You reached out to touch him. He shivered at the feeling of your cool skin on his heated, swollen flesh. So soft, smooth. . .thick.
Shit.
His precum was already leaking from his pretty pink tip.
Your mouth was watering. Your need to have your hands on him clouded your every thought.
But before you could do anything more than run your fingers over him, he was moving his body to be on top of yours, your hands falling from him. You edged up the bed, him following after you. His eyes were hungry, and his hands were purposeful and strong as he quickly unfastened your jeans, pulling them off in one smooth motion.
Your pussy throbbed at how close it was to happening. How close you were to finally feeling him. Fulfilling the need you’d discovered too long ago.
Taking off your cropped t-shirt as he stripped you of your panties, you hissed as your wet mound met the air of his room. You made quick work of your bra.
He sat above you, gently cupping your bare pussy, while watching your naked chest rise and fall as you took several deep breaths, waiting. You ground into the palm of his hand, needing the friction. He then moved his hands, grazing them up your thighs, hips, waist, and finally let them settle on the outer curve of your breasts.
Your skin grew goosebumps, your nipples hardening to peaks in the cool air of his bedroom. He seemed mesmerized. His mouth was slightly opened, his eyes studying your chest with every breath you took.
“Jake?” You whispered, breaking his stare at your breasts and making him look into your eyes.
“Sorry,” he blinked a few times, shaking his head with a little grin, balancing his hands on either side of your head. He leaned down to give your lips a sweet kiss. “It’s the first time I’ve ever seen all of you . . .,” He leaned on a forearm, and reached to your chest again, holding one breast in his hand, massaging it as his thumb skated over the nipple. “Beautiful,” he praised, looking you right in the eye. Oh, Jake.
Then, his mouth attached to the opposite breast, his lips sucked gently, his tongue flicking out to lick the nipple.
You felt it everywhere, your toes curling at his touch. And with a sigh, you leaned into his mouth, needing more. Needing all he could give.
“Fuck, Jake,” you whined. “Your mouth feels so good.”
And then he switched breasts, making sure to give each the same treatment. . . Holy sweet hell. You were done for.
Your body shook, feeling your nerve endings spasm. No one else had ever stimulated you this much, this way. You didn’t know you could feel so much from a man only lapping at your chest. He was magic.
“Jake,” you keened, your chest pushing further into his mouth. Your hips thrusting up to meet his. Fuck. With both of you having your pants off, he almost entered you at the motion. And damn the temptation was too much. “Shiiiit.”
He continued to worship your chest, and when you met his hips again, he bucked into yours, deliciously rough, matching a thrust. You felt him, hard, and fitting right between your wet folds, so close to being inside you.
You saw stars, closing your eyes.
Fuck.
You heard the softest groan against your breast. You looked down at him, lavishing at your supple skin. One thick brow was raised, but then he pulled them in, in concentration, as he rocked into you again. Shit.
You couldn’t help the cry that escaped you. Or the words that followed.
“Please, Jake. Please,” you didn’t know what you were asking for. Just needed more of him. You pushed your hands into his hair, growing confidence from your position. You pushed his face further into you, and you felt him bite at your nipple. Your hips naturally came to meet his and with all of it—fuck—your moan was pornographic. “I need you,” you pushed up, grinding your hips into his. “Here,” you did it again for emphasis, your pussy aching for him.
He released the nipple he’d been sucking with a pop. There was a snicker at your chest, and you saw the dimple in his cheek when he smirked. But before he did anything else, he moved back up your body, your chests finally touching. He had a hand still holding snug to a breast. He squeezed it once, your clit thrummed at the motion and you once again pushed your front to his.
He kissed the column of your neck softly, trailing kisses from there, all the way to the corner of your mouth. You moved to meet your lips with his, your hand still tangled in his wavy hair.
You kissed lazily for a few minutes, just enjoying the taste of each other. Your pussy still occasionally grazing his impossibly hard front. You’d moan into each other’s mouths every time. . .absolutely euphoric.
When you came up for air, you let yourself get lost in the chocolate pools of his irises. He was so handsome. So pretty. You couldn’t help the hand that came to hold his cheek, the other one still combing through his hair.
He gave the corner of your mouth one more peck before he rasped, moving to give the same kiss to the swell of each of your breasts. “Your tits . . .,” he blew out a breath against your skin, making the flesh erupt in goosebumps. You sighed. “Fuck, y/n. They’re perfect. So soft and full. . .” One more kiss to each, this time with tongue. “Fuckin’ perfect.”
Then his slick tongue was moving from your chest, down your stomach, and over your right thigh. He hitched both of your legs up, to be bent at the knee. Giving him better access to what you knew he was about to do. He gave your pussy the same long look he gave your breast, admiring what was in front of him. He licked his lips at the sight.
Your heart was racing.
And without warning, his tongue found you, flattening on your sensitive clit. It was so hard, with only the slightest direct contact from his tongue, you were bucking your hips into his face. He used two strong hands to grasp and hold your hips to the bed, making sure to soothe your position by making wide, smooth circles with his thumbs in the hidden flushed dips between your thighs and groin.
He then dipped his tongue to curve into the growing wetness between your folds. You gasped as he lapped at your arousal, occasionally moaning into you as he would lick. He continued like that for long enough that you weren’t sure you could see straight. Your legs were weak from your position. It was almost as if he was enjoying this—simply getting to taste you, feel you against his mouth.
And suddenly, you felt your body begin to tremble uncontrollably, your every sense becoming heightened. The feeling of him was all-consuming. You couldn’t deny it any longer, the growing sensation in the pit of your belly threatening to give way at any moment. And he knew it. The work of his mouth became more intense, more fervorous, more hungry. His plush lips working your throbbing cunt into a frenzy until you finally gave in.
He hardly took his mouth off of you, only enough to speak his velvet soft voice against your soaked pussy, his breath hot against the wet skin. “That’s it, baby, that’s it. Let me have it.”
Then it hit you, harder than it ever had. You suddenly realized that you’d been deprived your entire life of this feeling, no man had ever done that to you. Let alone with just his mouth.
You came back to, arching into him as you felt his tongue make a perfect circle around the still-tight bud of your sensitive clit. You could hardly control your tremors as your body had felt the ultimate test of ecstasy.
Then you heard a little whimper from Jake, and you looked down through hazy eyes to see his eyebrows were drawn deeper than you’d ever seen them.
A movement caught your eyes further down. His hips were thrusting, and with each rut of them, he kept forcefully meeting the mattress. You felt his bed shake with each jerk of his hips. Your clit twitched at the sensation of the bed rocking and his mouth on you. You could only imagine what it would be like when he was inside you. You felt the vibration of a growl against your pussy.
“Jake. . .,” you moaned. He hummed against you, which you presumed was a response to you. You hitched your hips up to meet his mouth as he curled his tongue to fit in the small hole between your folds, which gained him an involuntary shake from your body and a whine from you. He then trailed his tongue all the way up from your hidden spot, to hit the sensitive underside of your clit. You groaned loudly at the way his tongue was intermittently flicking against and massaging your overly sensitive bundle of nerves.
He whimpered again, and his brows creased so closely together. You felt another jolt beneath you as the bed shook with a rather forceful thrust from his hips. You knew he was either really enjoying himself or was getting tired and really wanted his own release. From past experience with men, you assumed the latter.
“Jake,” you started scooting your body up the bed. You got flashbacks to nights cut too short when you said his name like that. You knew he did, too, as his mouth lifted from you and his dark eyes met your own.
“You said you wanted this,” he grunted in response, his forehead falling to lay on your thigh in defeat.
“I do, Ja—.”
He interrupted you when he dug his fingers into your hips harder, pulling you back down to meet his slick tongue. Your eyes rolled back in your head at the feeling of him lapping at you with the force he was exuding to seemingly keep you in your spot.
You tugged at his hair harder, trying to signal him to stop. As much as you didn’t want him to stop, it wasn’t fair for you to have all of the attention. He needed his release.
He slowly, hesitantly stopped and looked up at you, and you saw his eyes soften the slightest bit at your face. You knew you probably looked concerned, as that was how you were feeling for him.
“Are you okay?” He lifted his body from the spot he’d been laying in between your legs. He laid his body beside yours, and his swollen cock came to heavily sit on top of your leg.
You could have drooled at the sight of it flush against your skin. Fuck.
“You need release, too, Jake,” you combed your fingers through his hair. He wrinkled his brows at that. You continued, “I’ve already finished once; you don’t have to give me any more attention.”
He leaned back a bit, seeming offended. “You don’t want me to keep going?”
You pulled him by his shoulders, back to where he’d been, and reassured. “No, I want you to keep going—Goddamn, babe. . .but I also want to make sure you are able to feel satisfied and taken care of,” you sat up, and moved down the bed, so you were looking right at his thickness. You got him to position himself to be where you just were, his back against the headboard. You stared up at him through your lashes as you spit onto his aching head, then grasped his dick in your hand, all in one fluid motion.
His eyelids dropped, and his Amber-brown irises darkened. You gave him one slight squeeze and you saw the muscles in his thighs tighten and his head fall back slightly. But his gaze stayed on you.
Giving him one more pump, you rolled your thumb over the head. He groaned, but you weren’t able to give him any more attention as he flipped your body to be under his again in one swift motion.
You squinted at him from your new position, “Why can’t I—?”
“You act as if I wasn’t satisfied with what I was doing before,” he retorted, voice low and face right above yours.
“You were obviously wanting more. You were—I wanted to help because you kept. . . thrusting into the mattress,” you blinked up into his sultry glare. “I could tell—.”
“I was fucking the mattress because I loved getting to tongue fuck the hell out of your perfect pussy,” he snapped.
Your body tingled at his words. This man.
But you didn’t want your desire to please him to be ignored. You reflected the glare that was still shading his features. “Why do you always have to get your way?” You argued.
He huffed, “My way?” He went down to bite the inner curve of your right breast. You moaned, feeling your nipples harden even more at the sensation. He continued his way down your body, “If I would have had my way this wouldn’t be—," You thrusted up into his stiff dick again. You smirked when he bit his lip, eyes closing to stave off your distraction. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Fuck, y/n,” his eyes bore into you, then he worked his way down to where he was, once again, settled between your legs. He gave you one lick up your folds. You whispered his name, shaking. So sensitive. So delicious. “Have I wanted your mouth on my dick for a long ass time? Fuck yes. But I’ve also wanted this again. Give me this. I want this.”
“Jake, you don’t have to say that just becau—.”
He closed his eyes and groaned. “Can you not fucking argue with me for once?”
“Can you just fucking listen to me? I want to make sure you—.”
He forcefully entered you with one finger, his thumb reaching up to rub over your hard clit. You threw your head back, looking down at him with lust clouding your vision. You wanted to be angry with him for interrupting you, but dammit . . . you just couldn’t be.
He pumped it in and out a few times before putting the finger in his mouth, closing his eyes and moaning. “You taste so fuckin’ delicious, baby.”
His usage of the pet name made your brain short circuit for a few seconds, but you got distracted from it because suddenly, his face was back, right above yours. His forearms caged you in, on either side of your head. His hair was draping around you like a curtain. It felt so familiar. . .so wonderful.
And now, you knew it was about to happen.
You felt the head of his cock at your entrance, just as you had at Baby’s.
But this time. . .this time it was different. So different. You couldn’t pinpoint how or why—it just was.
You looked down to where your bodies were so close to finally connecting. When you looked into his eyes, you noticed he was waiting for you.
For some reason, you felt as though he’d been studying your face while you were looking away. He seemed so content to simply be watching you, waiting for you, until you found his eyes.
When your eyes met his, you saw the smile that filled his amber-brown irises. It was a sweet moment that felt like it would forever be locked in time. You stayed there, him above you. And somehow, you knew he was waiting for permission. So, you nodded your head.
And without a second thought, his eyes still honing in on yours, he entered you.
You could’ve sang, you were so relieved to feel him like this. Finally.
“So fucking tight,” he grunted, letting his tip meet your most secret spot inside. Ohhh yeah. You wanted to fuckin’ purr.
It had been awhile . . . and Jake had noticed by your tightness. But as he rolled his hips the slightest bit, helping you adjust, hitting you right where you needed him, deep inside—there was no questioning that the man knew what the hell he was doing.
Just like your thoughts earlier tonight. . .he was a natural.
You continued to wince a little, since he was so thick. It took a second to stretch to his size, and he let you, moving around enough from inside to help you. But he felt so damn good, you didn’t want to stay like that for too long. You needed more.
You wrapped your arms around his neck, needing to feel closer to him. His hair tickled the back of your hand.
Though, when you’d looked back at his face, his eyes were stuck on you, seeming to be caught in a trance, a relaxed, loose grin fitting to his pink lips.
You moved your hips just a bit. He felt you move, and he seemed to come back, his eyes locking in on your lips. He gave into the urge, kissing you, letting his tongue explore your mouth briefly, you doing the same to his mouth.
Then, when you came up for air, breathing so hard, you shared this look. Such fondness behind the gaze. It was almost too much. But like all things with Jake, it felt right.
You played with the ends of his hair, where your arms were crossed at his back. Maybe you could stay like this forever.
But then he moved out slowly, and pushed back into you, hard and to the hilt. You felt his balls hit the bottom of your ass and you almost crossed your eyes at the ecstasy of it all.
He rocked into you like that a few more times, a little slower, moving steadily.
Then he switched things up.
He held your body up, his dick still firmly inside of you as he sat up on his knees, leaning back on his heels. He balanced your ass on his thighs and pushed a pillow up behind you, sitting you up, your back against the headboard. Your legs moved of their own accord to be on either side of his hips.
The position had you completely open to him, as your legs were spread wide, his cock pulsing inside of you. He bit his lip, focusing. It was like he was admiring a piece of art, not able to take his eyes from it. Deep in thought.
And all of a sudden, you felt extremely vulnerable. Every piece of you on full display, save for your backside which sat perfectly on his bare thighs. So, still. He had every piece of you open to him, around him, or on top of him.
You almost spoke, but he beat you to it.
“You are so fucking beautiful, y/n. Dammit,” he said with awe laced beautifully in his raspy voice, hitched on his next words. “This is— you are . . .,” he shook his head, and was never able to come up with the words. Instead, he just continued to let his eyes graze over you.
You felt your entire body heat at his words, the intimacy of all this. You felt emotional hearing the words, being like this with him. It was the most open and vulnerable you’d felt with a man in a long time (maybe ever), and he was seeming to treasure it just as much as you.
His hands held your waist as you tangled a hand in his hair, and looped one arm over his shoulders - both of your chests heaving, needy.
He then brought you forward, until your clit was positioned to rub right below his belly button. You gasped at the full change in position, his cock as deep as it could go. You used the new angle as leverage and went onto the pads of your feet, raising off of him briefly, and then you slowly sank back down onto his throbbing length.
The moan he let out was heavenly. It made you feel like you were on top of the world, the way his mouth hung open. You continued to rise, and sink back down. Long and slow motions that helped you both to feel all of each other. Once you got more confident, you started swiveling your hips as you started to bounce on top of him.
After a few more swings of your hips, he used his hold on your waist and lifted you off of him.
You unabashedly let out a small cry at the loss of him inside you, but you moved with him. You positioned yourself to be on all fours, ass facing him— going with his motions and assuming that’s what he wanted.
The hiss you heard leave his mouth when you were in position, and the way he kneaded your plush ass cheeks with his calloused fingertips made you smirk with victory. You knew exactly what he wanted.
“You like that?” You breathed at him, wiggling your round ass at him, grinding back on his hardness. You felt him quiver at your movement. Then you felt a hard smack against your right asscheek. “Fuck— Jake!”
He soothed the spot, massaging it the slightest bit, and before you had time to fully process the first hit, he went in for another slap on the other cheek.
You jolted with a squeak, surprised, but fully welcoming it.
Fuck yeah. Did he like things rough? If so, you were here for it.
Tossing your hair over your shoulder, you pointedly made eye contact with his hooded gaze. He had a knowing smirk on his face, matching your own expression.
He gave you two more slaps, one for each side, and this time you felt the cold metal of his rings with the hits. Oh fuck.
You pushed back on him, wanting more. His thick cock, snug between your sore cheeks at this angle.
But instead, he flipped you to lay on your back again. Where was this strength coming from? Dear God.
How easily he maneuvered your body, wherever he wanted it to go. . . You bit your lip. Fuck. It was like you were his little instrument, moving you every which way, like he threw his guitar behind his head so effortlessly—that was you right now.
Your core convulsed at the thought.
Jake set an arm next to your head, and the other above, almost cradling it to not hit the headboard. Then he sunk his pulsing dick into your waiting, dripping cunt. At this point, you were getting fairly acquainted with his size, so you grabbed his perfectly round backside, burying him the deepest he could be in you.
You also used this position to sway your hips up, each stroke on his dick intentional. Throwing in a little trick of yours, you tightened your muscles to grip his length with each roll of your hips, making him fit even more snug, inside of you.
“Oh baby,” he groaned at the feeling, the first time you did it. And after a few more, he tapped your hip. “If you don’t stop, I’m not gonna last.”
He was trembling above you. His arm was shaking next to your head.
“Y/n, baby—fuck,” he grunted, tapping at your hip harder. He wasn’t ready to be done. Neither were you. So you tapped him right back, motioning for him to move off of you.
After he’d moved, you went to lay partially on your side and partially on your belly. You lifted your ass to indicate you were ready. And in one smooth move, his chest was against your back, his arms back where they were before, but in the new position. He slowly slid in, feeling out the new angle.
You loved it. One of your new favorites.
“I love this fuckin’ view of you, y/n,” he groaned, his breath hitting your shoulder. “And the way you feel like this—goddamn.”
He was filling you up, all the way, except this time, you had the combined feeling of him inside, while his smooth sac hit your pussy with each languid pump of his hips.
You watched how his bicep and fist flexed at the same time, with each thrust, so purposeful.
Damn him for being so sexy.
His hips started moving quicker, almost of their own accord. And before you knew it, he was pounding into you, his balls slapping hard against you.
The sounds—the way it felt— perfection.
Your toes curled. Ecstasy. He kept hitting your hidden spot inside; your clit was getting friction from his sheets; and the back of your pussy was getting attention, too. Fuck. This position was going in the books.
Without warning, you felt the arm next to you move, his hand going to sweep swift circles on your swollen bundle of nerves.
“Jaaaake,” you whined, sounding completely pathetic. Sweat was beading at your forehead. Your folds were spasming, your pussy ready to let go. “Fuck, baby.”
You couldn’t hold it anymore. All of it combined—the loud slaps of flesh, the sweat, his hand, the pressure of his pretty dick stretching your tender pussy- hitting every part of you—damn.
You came for the second time that night with a curl from your hands and toes, and a loud sob.
“Doing so good, y/n,” he pushed his chest closer to your back, feeling your release against his hand and helping you ride the wave. And all of a sudden, his hips started rutting, so erratically against your ass, his dick pulsing inside with each roll of his hips. “I’m gonna—where do you—fuck! Y/n—.”
Shit. You almost forgot. You weren’t on the pill. You’d just gone off a few months ago. Shit shit shit shit.
Momentarily snapping from your hazy afterglow, you grasped his hip. “Dammit—on my back!”
Thankfully, he pulled out in time, and with a small moan from his perfect lips, hot spurts of his cum met your back, shiny from sweat.
After, he laid above you, one shaking arm still above you, the other now holding your tummy. Okay, now you hated this position. You couldn't easily flip to see his face. And you wanted to see him.
He made quick work of reaching for his T-shirt from earlier to clean off your back.
“Wanna see your face,” he sighed, rubbing at your shoulder.
You grinned at the sentiment, wanting so desperately to see him, too. So, you rolled onto your back, letting an arm fall above your head, and the other lay across your stomach, replacing where his had been. In a daze, you watched him as he cleaned up his cock, still glistening from your climax.
Changing your line of sight, you let yourself watch his face as he cleaned himself. His lips were slightly parted, his top lip curled a bit to show some of his top row of teeth. He was focused. And damn he looked good like that.
But you already knew that.
Finally, he was done, and he threw the shirt over the side of the bed, joining the pile of clothes on the ground.
He went to lay just as you had, but with extended an arm for you to curl into.
You should have left. Gone back to your room. You’d gotten what you wanted.
And this was wrong. If it went too far, it could seriously hurt Jake. Make Josh impossibly angry with you for corrupting his brother. . .
But before you could even begin to move, focus too hard on any reasonable thought whatsoever, your head filled with Elsie’s voice, wise with the conversation you’d had that day, in the entryway.
“I’m saying. . .what if it’s possible he could just want you in his bed and nothing else?” She’d scratched her head. “Would that hurt anything or anyone? I mean, you’ve made it seem to me that you don’t really have any emotional attachment to him. So if you did that, who would it hurt?”
You glanced up at his face, his eyes drooping to follow the sleep you were also craving. His lids fluttered against his smooth skin - his sharp features. Yeah, you were good on that, still . . . no emotional attachment. But he was nice to look at.
Your voice from that day sprang to your mind, fighting.
“Elsie, that’s a stupid plan that could go horribly wrong,” she’d gasped at your insult to her idea. And you’d leveled her with a stare. “And you know it.”
“I do, I do,” she’d reassured. “But what if you just cut it off when it starts to feel like too much?”
You looked to his hands, drumming mindlessly against his hard, tanned stomach. His mouth hummed an unknown tune. You wanted to sink into him. But you knew you could cut it off. You were a pro at that.
“You think I could do that?” You hadn’t been able to believe you were actually starting to give substance to her idea in your head.
(And here you were doing it again.)
“You’re pretty damn good at burying things right down to the pits of hell, so. . .,” She’d blinked at you, almost innocently with her savage plan leaving her lips. “What’s the harm in giving it a shot? I mean, just one time, at least?”
So, you used your sister’s words from the past as your pass to let yourself be exactly where you wanted to be right now: in his warm, safe, strong arms. It had been now one time. You'd given it a shot. . .
But what if . . .?
And just as you settled into him, your cheek resting on his toned pec, his heart beating steadily underneath, you heard the last of Elsie’s words from that conversation, inspiring you even more to do this.
To force some substance on this otherwise ridiculous, horrible idea.
She’d glanced to the side, letting her eyes wander mysteriously for a second. “I think it would be good for you to live on the edge. Just once.”
And that was all you needed in that sweet, quiet moment, letting yourself cozy up, right into Jake’s chest. . .feeling him kiss the crown of your head.
Tomorrow could worry about itself.
Because right now? Right now, you were the most blissed out - the most comfortable you’d ever been.
You weren’t fucking ready to lose this yet, dammit.
And as you drifted off, seconds later, his soft snores lulling you peacefully, you could only hope that he wasn’t ready to lose this—whatever the hell this was—yet, either.
-🌼🌼🌼-
a/n: i'm so ready to share what's coming... i wish i could tell you guys (gn)!! it's killingggg me. anywayssss... please let me know your thoughts! you know i love hearing from you all :) <3
(I will say, I've been giving sporadic hints from the first chapter of what's to come. . . hmmm. who thinks they can guess what's going to turn Reader's life upside down?)
if you’d like to be added to the taglist, please let me know!
& as usual, it wouldn’t let me tag some of y’all. :( so please check to see that you’re down there because if you’ve asked to be on the taglist, i tried to tag you. buuuut tumblr wouldn’t let me do it for everyone 🙃 ugh. and if i somehow forgot to tag someone, please also let me know that! (i'm a NOOB and i have terrible memory)
Taglist: @joshym, @gretavanfleetposts, @alyson814, @fretaganvleet, @lallisonl, @writingcold, @gvfpal, @twinszka, @jessicafg03, @reesetrippingthelight, @sacredjake, @laurenlovesgretavanfleet, @gretavangroove, @222headedcalf, @dreamssingold, @carbondancingthroughtime, @raviolilegs, @way-to-go-lad, @jakekiszkasmommy, @katgvf, @objectsinspvce, @jaketlover, @vanfleeter, @thetroublegetssloud71, @seditabets, @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface, @jaketlove, @ohgodthefeeling-gvf, @starcatcher-jake, @anythingforjtk, @lucimoo, @indigostreakmorgan, @gretavanbear, @katelynn-gvf, @alwaysonthemend, @aintthatapity, @bowievanfleet, @fwzco, @takenbythemadness, @cherry-icecreamsmile, @laneygvf
#jake kiszka x reader#jake kiszka fic#jake kiszka fanfic#jake kiszka smut#greta van fleet fic#greta van fleet fanfic#jake fic#jake kiszka#covet#my fics
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new light: head over heels — rafe cameron
new light masterlist
summary: You and Rafe make your first return to the Outer Banks after moving away for good, and it doesn't take either of you long to remember all of the reasons you left.
warnings: alcohol and swearing might be it?
a/n: HI HI HI!!! it's happening!!! posting this behemoth (22k-ish last i checked) and dipping immediately, because i'm still not done with season 3 and don't want to get spoiled on here. thank you SO MUCH for holding on for this one - and congratulations to everyone who voted on season 3 arriving before the thanksgiving fic lol. see u soon!!! (this takes place in new light present day)
“Are we really doing this?”
You roll your eyes, albeit fondly, as this is at least the fifth time Rafe has asked you the same question in the last two weeks. The first time was immediately after the flights were booked, the second before he formally requested the vacation time at work. He asked you for the third time when you requested his help in dragging your suitcases out of the closet, which he did begrudgingly. The next time, the fourth, was as you both waited tired and bleary-eyed at your plane’s gate, bright and early this morning at the airport.
Now he asks you again, as the ferry between Chapel Hill and the Outer Banks starts pulling up to the dock. Passengers have already begun their descent down to the lower levels, to get their cars and queue up to disembark. But you and your boyfriend remain on the upper deck, observing your hometown as the ferry flushes itself to the dock.
“How many times do I have to tell you?” you ask, arms crossing over your chest.
“As many times as it takes for me to believe this was the right choice,” Rafe sighs, turning to look out at the coastline, back the way you came.
“We’re here now,” you point out unhelpfully. “We’re doing this. It’s only four days, baby. We’ve got this.”
“Four nights,” he corrects you, with a furrow in his brows. “Five days, if you count today.”
“Rafe, I’m not your enemy.”
He looks down at you, and you hate that you can already see all the signs of his stress. The missed signals, the tightness in his face and in his shoulders. It was an instant physical reaction to being back in town for Thanksgiving, a few measly months after you’d both left it behind.
“I know,” Rafe says softly. He places a hand between your shoulder blades, guiding you into his hold, the beer he’d bought at concessions placed on a hightop table behind you. “Hey, c’mere. I know.”
As much as you know it’s your turn to be the strong one, you let him comfort you selfishly, just for a moment. You weren’t near the state Rafe was in, but you’d be lying if you weren’t feeling the nerves as soon as you boarded the ferry, too. It didn’t help that you’d just discovered the airline had left your bag in California, which Rafe swore was a bad omen. You don’t care what he thought it was, as long as he understood you’d be living in a combination of his clothes and whatever you left behind in your childhood bedroom until the airline could fix it.
At least you both have Captain for emotional support, sitting patiently between your legs, where he usually seems to fit himself. You’d become those people you’d always made fun of in your head, the ones that couldn’t leave their house without their dog. Sending him to the cargo hold in his crate was about as much distance as either of you could handle.
“Holy shit,” Rafe suddenly says, the hand he’d been rubbing your back with slowing to a stop.
“What?”
“Don’t look now, but our friends are fucking insane,” he chuckles.
Of course you look immediately—and sure enough, Kelce and Topper (plus Blythe), and Gretchen and Margot are all grouped together on the dock. You feel yourself smile involuntarily at them, tucking your face into Rafe’s chest bashfully. “They’re so embarrassing.”
He’s still laughing in disbelief, the sound resonating in your chest. “Why did they all come?”
“‘Cause they love us,” you say simply. You have no idea how you’ll all fit in however many cars, or who’s even supposed to be driving you home, but you can’t find it in you to care as you finally disembark from the ferry with your dog, Rafe on your heels with his bag.
“Finally,” Kelce says dramatically, once you approach the group. “I was starting to think you two were finally rain-checking my party.”
“We’d never,” you say, just as dramatically, before you’re letting yourself get crushed in a group hug from your girlfriends.
“Can confirm,” Margot whispers conspiratorially to the group. “No baby bump.”
“You guys,” you laugh, pushing her wandering hand away from your middle. “Come on.”
“It’s a valid fear!” Gretchen cries incredulously, pressing kisses to both of your cheeks.
Then you trade spots with Rafe, to squish Topper and Blythe in your arms as well, and they squish you back just as hard. “We missed you guys so much. Please come visit.”
“You come visit,” Topper counters.
“Tried a New England winter once, and I’m good for life, man,” Rafe says, before bringing Margot and Gretchen into his arms. “You guys have to come out.”
“Kelso,” you sigh, surprised to feel a lump in your throat when your best friend hugs you for the first time in you don’t know how long. Kelce’s career took him to Texas after college, and you’d definitely seen him the least out of all of them in the past year or so. “I missed you.”
“Missed you even more. How are you guys?” he asks, words coming out garbled through the squished cheeks you’re currently giving him. “How’s Rafe? Or do we talk later?”
“He’s good,” you tell him honestly. “On edge, you know. But good.”
“And how are you?” he says quieter, and you have to roll your eyes at his earnestness, if even just to prevent yourself from actually crying.
“I’m good, too,” you say, linking a pinky with his quickly.
Kelce breaks out into a grin, squeezing your pinky back before bringing you into another hug. “You look a hell of a lot better than the last time I picked you up here.”
You detangle your hand from his in order to smack him on the back of his head while he just howls with laughter. It’s easy to look back on it—two years ago now—and laugh. But Kelce had been there for you and your broken heart, and sometimes you think his tough love was half the reason you and Rafe even made it back to each other.
“Very clever,” you concede, before remembering something with a spark of excitement. “But tell me about you! When does she get here?”
Kelce’s cool demeanor fades when he becomes embarrassed immediately, reaching down to find solace in petting Captain, who seems to be just as excited about the reunion. “Wednesday morning. I’m driving out to the airport to get her.”
Therese was the first girl Kelce had actually told you about since high school, let alone brought home to meet everyone. You were so excited when he called to tell you that Rafe made you promise to manage your expectations, but you couldn’t help it.
“So she’ll make the party,” you realize excitedly. “Gosh, I can’t wait to meet her.”
“I’m nervous. Nervous, but excited,” he admits. “I don’t wanna overwhelm her. She’s meeting my parents, and then all of you idiots. All in one day.”
“Hey,” Rafe protests, suddenly slotting back into your side once he’s done fake boxing with Topper. “We are not.”
“I’ll believe that when I see it,” Kelce says, rolling his eyes. “Come on, you guys are riding with me. We have a table at the Island Club an hour from now, think you can manage that?”
You cut your eyes to Rafe, and he already looks a little loosened up after seeing everyone, and he just nods, shrugging his shoulders as if to say why not. “We can say hi to your parents and freshen up. Wheeze has school and Sarah won’t be in until tonight anyway.”
It seems Rafe has no such plans to see his father any sooner than he has to, possibly not before Thanksgiving at all, you realize. You didn’t even bother to ask Rafe if he’d prefer to stay in his old room at Tannyhill or with you, knowing the answer already. But you’d naively hoped he’d feel comfortable enough to not avoid his father like the plague after some time away.
“Yeah, we can do that,” you answer, looking back at Kelce with a smile to confirm. You let Captain into the backseat while Kelce takes Rafe’s bag, squealing in surprise when your boyfriend’s hands grip your waist firmly before you get in the car.
“Hey,” he says quietly, just for you. The sea breeze has already mussed up his hair, and there’s something so comforting about coming back here with him, knowing you’ve always got someone in your corner. Rafe must agree, because he presses his forehead to yours quickly. “I love you.”
“I love you,” you say, giving him a peck modest enough that it won’t tick off Kelce or the rest of your friends piling into Topper’s Jeep beside you. “You can do this.”
“We can do this,” he corrects. “You know. I’m not letting you out of my sight.”
—
“I still can’t believe they put me up in the guest house,” Rafe whines, three Bloody Mary’s in, as you both exit the Island Club a few hours later.
Kelce had given you the ride there, but you both opted for the walk back home, rather than wrangling any younger siblings for a ride. Dylan landed yesterday, but he wanted to have a talk with your parents alone and you needed to stop in at the store anyway.
Rafe reminded you on the flight that Rose had asked you to make a pie again this year, and Captain was antsy from all of the travel; giving him a second to trot around in the fresh air seemed like a good idea.
You maybe should’ve mentioned it to Rafe sooner, that your mom had been planning to have the guest house—not even one of the guest rooms, but the actual house, which was an entire backyard away from the main property—made up when you asked to have him stay with you for the holiday. But he was already hanging on by a thread about this trip, and you knew he’d beg even harder to cancel if he found out he wouldn’t be crashing with you.
But the shocked look on his face that he quickly tried to hide as he watched your mom tell Dylan to take his bags to the house had absolutely been a little bit worth it.
The displeased grumbling all throughout lunch, maybe not so much.
“She knows we’ve lived together for almost two years now, right? And that before that, we were visiting each other in college all the time?” he prattles on, words growing soft around the edges, not yet to the point of syrupy slow. “And that before that, I was in your bedroom every other night?”
“Everything but that last one,” you wince.
“So it’s about the house,” he realizes, the two of you now standing outside of the grocery store. “Her house,” you correct. “Not until we’re married. Maybe she’ll let it go when we’re engaged.”
Rafe’s face turns mischievous, and you wish that second round of mimosas hadn’t let you let that slip.
“Noted.”
You roll your eyes, feeling heat flush your cheeks. “Stop. Are you coming in, too? I only need a few things.”
“You go,” he says, not not grinning at your flustered state. He raises your intertwined hands between you, pressing a kiss to the back of yours. Your eyes catch on his notably bare left hand. “Captain’s gonna get snatched up if we leave him tied up out here.”
“I’m still so sad you lost that ring,” you tell him, pouting.
Rafe didn’t seem to mind much at all when the gold cigar band went missing after a morning surf, but you were really gonna miss seeing the trademark piece glinting on his hand in the sunlight, or pressing cold into your skin. You’d been looking for replacements ever since, but he was in no rush.
“It really wasn’t that big of a deal,” he promises, eyes leaving yours.
“It was to me. You’ve worn it forever. I loved that one,” you say, tugging on his bare finger, tracing where the indent was slowly releasing from his skin; the tan-line was pretty horrendous too.
“I know you did,” Rafe teases. “You ripped it off my hand to try on all the time. Maybe you took it.”
“Did not!” you gasp, offended.
Rafe just rolls his eyes, finally kissing the pout off of your lips. “Go, c’mon. Pie won’t bake itself.”
You hand over Captain’s leash and walk in, still feeling flustered, like you do every time Rafe starts to talk about rings. The way you just barely dodge his ass slap—outside of the local health food store, for god’s sake—doesn’t do anything to help.
Thanksgiving wasn’t for a few days, but Rose had raved and raved about the pumpkin pie you’d brought last year, and you were feeling the pressure—you knew you needed to get a jump on the shopping, so you’d have time to fuck it up at least three or four times before deeming one acceptable.
There’s only so many options for pumpkin puree, but you discriminate over them tirelessly, half because you’re never not set on impressing Rose, and half because your mind is still distracted by Rafe and his “noted.” Things were serious between you about as soon as you started dating, but he’d really been pushing the marriage thing lately.
“Y/n?”
You drop whatever can of pumpkin you’d most recently scrutinized into your basket in near shock, thankful it lands there and not on the floor, all over the shoes of you and Rafe’s ex-girlfriend.
“Chloe,” you say, forcing a smile amid the shock. “Wow, hi.”
“Hey,” she says, pushing her cart toward you. “What a trip.”
It’s the holidays and your town is small, you were bound to see some familiar faces this week whether you wanted to or not, but you’re still in disbelief. “Yeah, um, wow. How are you?”
“Great,” she says, her voice resonating so clearly that you believe her. “I live in New York now, I don’t know if you heard.”
You don’t make a habit of keeping tabs on Rafe’s exes these days, and you and Chloe were hardly ever friends to begin with, so you can answer this truthfully. “No, I hadn’t, actually. But that’s great. Do you like it?”
“Love it,” she corrects, stepping forward to gather a few cans of the puree you’d just been eyeing. She picks them out without a second thought, mixing brands and haphazardly throwing them into her cart, lacking a care in the world, oozing self-assuredness. “I just needed that quick pace, you know? Don’t take this the wrong way, but I always felt like life was too slow around here for me. I wasn’t made for the Stepford life.”
You scratch the back of your neck awkwardly, finally deciding on a couple of cans that look like they’d pass the test to sit in Rose’s pantry that’s always oscillating between the newest diet. “Uh, yeah. No, I get it. It’s always nice to be back for the holidays though. We just got in today.”
That seems to pique her interest, and your head falls forward slightly when you realize your mistake. “You and Rafe? Last I heard you still lived in town.”
“We did,” you nod. “For a year after grad. But we moved to California at the end of the summer, so.”
“Wow,” she says, and a small part of you is satisfied that she looks off-balance. Chloe Merrick was never like that. Maybe your teenage mind had exaggerated it at the time in some twisted game of self-comparison, but it looks like it still rang true as she stands before you. Her heels make her stand taller than you, allowing her to look directly down her nose. Her full face of makeup and shiny hair makes you regret letting Kelce rush you out of the house with minimal primping. It’s like she reads your mind, her eyes flicking over your outfit. “Ah, now the outfit makes sense.”
You blink, looking down at your leggings and back to her in silence.
“Well, the traveling and all,” she says awkwardly, like she expected you to agree. “But California, that’s fun. I never thought I’d see Rafe leave the OBX. And it’s nice that Ward lets him work remotely.”
You can’t hide your discontent at that, because Chloe doesn’t know Rafe well enough at all anymore—and probably never really did, for that matter—to make assumptions about where he’d end up in life, or insinuate that he’d be under Ward forever. “He doesn’t work for his dad, actually.”
When she fish-mouths, you have to look away to not let it get to your head, focusing on the rest of your grocery list on your phone.
But she clears her throat, and that perfect smile slots back into its rightful place. “Well, we can see how long that lasts.”
The last thing you want is for Chloe to think she’d made it under your skin, or that she’s in anyway correct about you or Rafe, or that you’d care at all what she’d think about either of you. So you cock your head to the side innocently, steeling your expression as best you can. “How do you mean?”
“Oh, be serious, Y/n,” she says, pretenses officially dropped. “Rafe got the perfect, cookie-cutter Figure 8 life he always wanted. And he got it with you. I doubt he even knows how to want anything else.”
Chloe and Rafe dated for six months. Six months of avoiding him, avoiding both of them, toiling over your feelings alone, and associating way too many soundtracks to your teenage angst with the entire situation that there’s still a few songs you won’t touch to this day.
You’ve loved him for years, and she really thinks she knows him better.
“It’s a good thing you weren’t made for that life, then, isn’t it?” you say, slowly backing away.
She falters, again, and you know thats your cue. “Nice seeing you, Chloe.”
—
Spring Break, 6 years ago
“Can I sit here?”
Topper’s eyebrows lift in surprise, but he gestures to the seat across from him readily, tucking his outstretched legs in. “Of course you can.”
You cast one last look at the rest of the small, private plane—Gretchen and Margot, occupying the credenza, looking at you in utter confusion when you give them a half-assed shrug, Kelce looking similarly confused in the club seat opposite the aisle from Topper when you decline a seat near him too, and Rafe and Chloe toward the back, right across from the girls.
You meant to get to the tarmac the earliest of all of your friends to pick your seat first. But you couldn’t get to bed early enough the night before and slept through almost all of your alarms, and somehow arrived last.
“What, didn’t wanna watch them play footsie all flight?” Topper quips, following your gaze, and you’re reminded exactly why you chose to sit next to him.
For the last three months that Rafe had been dating Chloe, everyone in your friend group had been treating you with kid gloves. Everyone except Topper Thornton. To be completely fair, Kelce knows you best of them all, and Gretchen and Margot may or may not have witnessed a drunken breakdown at a girls’ night two weeks ago (that they swore they’d never speak of).
But there were still the sad eyes, the wayward glances whenever Chloe walked into the room, the less than discrete subject changes and conversation redirectors. You knew it came from a good place but you were sick of them assuming they knew your feelings. And you knew Topper would never dare assume your feelings, let alone act on it.
He was a constant, the one you’d known longest out of all of them. But that didn’t mean you were the closest, and maybe that’s what made it perfect. Maybe Topper couldn’t read through your bullshit, or maybe he just didn’t feel the need to. Either way was fine with you, if you were going to survive this week. Kelce’s parents had offered up their rental property in the Hamptons to your friends, and after just narrowly convincing Gretchen’s dad to let her go this year, the friendship group had remained in tact, even welcoming one new member.
“Not my cup of tea,” you finally answer, settling into your seat, which was perfectly facing away from the rest of your friends. You pull your hoodie up over your head anyway, tucking your legs under you and opening the window shade.
“I’m probably going to be a boring seat buddy. I got zero sleep last night,” Topper tells you around a yawn.
You can feel your eyes begging to flutter closed after the lack of sleep you got last night, when you were already toiling over the week that lie ahead. So you settle into your seat more, resting your head against the back of your seat. “Perfect.”
—
It made sense to cling to Topper a little bit after that.
At first, you merely opted to ride in the Uber he requested from the airport, ignoring Kelce’s second betrayed look of the morning when you didn’t pile in with him. But then you also sat next to him when you stopped at the seafood shack on the way home.
You loved Topper for his obliviousness, but later that night, he still picked up on enough to move the decorative pillow hogging the spot next to him on the loveseat when everyone was gathering around for a movie night.
Topper was quiet, calm and safe—a breath of air among the suffocation you were feeling lately, and that’s all it was.
And when he’d gone to the gym with Kelce in the morning, you figured you could find solace in a book out on the back porch instead. Rafe and Chloe were unaccounted for, their PDA and softened tones not to be missed by you any time soon, and Margot and Gretchen were still asleep when you left your shared room that morning.
You obviously hadn’t gone as far as bunking with Topper for the week, but you pulled a pretty good “gosh, I’m so tired” act when you finally slipped into your bottom bunk below Gretchen, turning away from Margot across the room to face the wall. Prying eyes easily ignored.
You don’t possess an ordered list of who you’d most like to be opening the screen door only two chapters into your book that morning, but Chloe Merrick was decidedly not very high on it.
Before Rafe started bringing her around, you never knew enough about Chloe to make anything of her. She wasn’t in any of your classes, but Kildare Academy was small enough that you’d heard of her here and there. She ran in other circles from what you could tell, and she was always nice. You hadn’t heard it from Rafe’s mouth first, but Kelce’s.
He’d lobbed it out into the open during a study session, and you’d brushed it off to move to the next question, not opting to face it until you had to at the next Boneyard party, when Rafe officially brought her into the group. You aren’t proud of the decisions that you made that night, between getting over-served on beer you didn’t even like and almost macking on a pogue who was cute enough before going home and making yourself very familiar with Chloe’s Vsco account. Pictures of Rafe in the sunset, holding ice cream cones, sitting in the cab of his truck—it’s a miracle your drunken thumb didn’t slip and blow your cover.
“Hey Y/n. Mind if I join you?” she asks. You’d never say no, but the thumb holding your book open twitches when you hear the door shut again immediately. Followed by her footsteps—she didn’t wait for an answer.
“Of course. Are you having fun so far?” you ask her, when she settles into the chair beside you.
“So much,” Chloe says. “Kelce’s place is sick. I feel silly that I was nervous when Rafe asked me here.”
“Nervous?” you ask. “Why?”
“I guess I just always thought you and Margot and Gretchen were so… cliquey?” she says without preamble. “I mean, me—I’ll make friends with anyone.”
“We’re not really a clique,” you say, laughing lightly to mask your discomfort. “We’re close, but there are no initiation ceremonies here.”
If she could tell you were joking, she doesn’t show that she picked up on it, shrugging instead. “I don’t know, you’ve always seemed so… reserved, the group of you. Especially you. I swear, I hardly ever see you without one of the crew inside.”
“They’re my best friends,” you say, matching her shrug. “I’ve known most of them since we were kids. It’s just always been like this.”
“I’ll take your word for it that there wasn’t a group vote on bringing me here,” she says, letting you off even if she doesn’t believe you. And you don’t think she does.
An incredibly awkward silence ensues after that, and you blurt the first thing that comes to mind to eliminate it. “How are things with Rafe?”
“Good,” she says, her eyes suddenly lighting up, your stomach twisting into the knot that had made its home there recently. “Really good. I like him a lot.”
“I can tell he likes you a lot, too. You guys are great together,” you tell her. “I’ve never seen him… well, he’s never really been very serious with anyone, I don’t think.”
“Yeah, that’s what he said,” she says. “And I was surprised, honestly, I thought… well, can I be straight up with you?”
“Yes?” you say, maybe against your better judgment.
Chloe’s eyes shift away from you, and she shakes her head at the thought. “I kind of always thought you guys had a thing for each other. If not dating, at least hooking up. Like, I honestly thought Rafe was lying to me when he denied it.”
You blink slowly, waiting for a punchline to hit, waiting for her to laugh in your face. To revel in the fact that she tricked you into ever thinking anyone would think you had a chance with Rafe. That he cared about you in that way at all, to the point where other people would pick up on it. But that never comes, and Chloe finally looks at you again, prompting you to speak.
“U-us?“ you ask, picking at the spine of your book. “Rafe and me?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, no,” you counter, catching up to the purpose of this conversation, getting past the confusing mixture of guilt, surprise, and maybe even giddiness that someone could make that mistake. Someone who likes Rafe enough to pursue him could mistake your friendship for anything beyond that. “No, we’re just friends.”
“Well, yeah, but…” she trails off. “I don’t know. I sensed a vibe, like most people at school I think.”
“Most people?” you ask, feeling your eyes bug out of your head.
“Yeah, when I told my friend Riley—you know her?”
“I… think so?” you say, hoping not to feed into the cliquey thing, but ultimately failing. Chloe seems unsurprised, but you can’t focus on that right now.
“I dunno, I had a crush on Rafe for a while but could never really get a read on it. She told me I was crazy, that you two have basically been dating since you could walk,” she explains. The tips of your ears start burning.
“We haven’t,” you clarify. “We really, really haven’t.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” she says, a touch dramatically, almost leading you to believe that this isn’t something she’d put to rest after talking with Rafe about it.
That thought—that realization that she’d talked with Rafe about it, about you—sends you into a quick spiral. You imagine how he must have reacted—did he laugh? Would Rafe laugh about something like that?
You realize you’ve let the silence drag again, and as you trip over your next question, you wish you would’ve never come to read out here this morning.
“So did he—did Rafe… Rafe must have made the first move then, right?”
Chloe scoffs, smiling like you’re naive as she places her hands behind her head. “Why? Because he’s the guy?”
“No, no,” you say in a rush. “Of course not. You can totally make the first move. I just meant, if you thought we were together…”
“Oh. Yeah,” she says, now carrying your embarrassment. “Well, I guess it doesn’t matter now, since things changed and we’re official and whatever. At first, I kind of just wanted to hook up with him.”
“Ah,” you say quietly, your book twitching in your grasp, your thumbnail digging into the hard cover.
“We were at a party. And I think you were gone, which is probably why I even got his attention in the first place. At least in my mind, at the time,” she explains, but you don’t believe it, not entirely. How Chloe could ever feel threatened by you is beyond you, so you assume it’s something else. “And I don’t know, I just decided ‘what the heck, he’s so cute. He can tell me to fuck off if he wants to.’”
You can’t imagine Rafe talking to her like that, or you like that. Or any girl like that. But you nod along, wondering how much more of this you even want to hear.
“But he didn’t. And he didn’t even want to hook up,” she says, shifting herself to gain a sliver more of sun. “I mean, yeah, we kissed at that party. But considering everything… I don’t know, I was confused. Like why stop there?”
“Right,” you say, finally deciding to shoot it straight. “I’m not trying to judge, Chloe. But just to clarify, when did you find out we weren’t actually dating?”
“After macking, you know I kinda asked him… like, what’s going on here? Everyone who was there saw us. And your entire group was there besides you,” she reminds you. And then she laughs. “And he was so confused.”
You fake a chuckle, your worst fear all but confirmed, feeling white-hot shame creeping up your throat. “I bet.”
“He’s like ‘I’m not with her. I wouldn’t be kissing you if I was with her,’” she imitates, making Rafe seem stoic and serious, which wasn’t very familiar to you. “‘She’s just a buddy.’”
It stings but it isn’t as horrible as you’d thought it’d be—not that Chloe would be keen to offer up anything else of interest. But you’re itching to cut your losses, pretend this conversation never happened, because Rafe is just your friend.
“Well, he’s right,” you say, opening your book again, finding that your place on the page was lost.
“That’s when I knew I wanted more with him. I could tell from the way he talked about you that he was a good guy, and that he’d be really good to me,” Chloe says.
“Yeah, Rafe’s a great guy,” you agree, the loose wicker material on the couch beneath you suddenly of interest.
“He is,” she agrees again. “It’s weird the way things worked out, but I’m happy. And sorry I thought you two were a thing all this time.”
“It happens,” you shrug, going back to pretending to read. “I think it’s just common when girls and guys are friends. People mistake Kelce and I, too. Even my mom asked me if I had a thing with Topper.”
You were joking, attempting to steer the conversation away from dangerous territory, but when her eyes light up you know you’re anything but home free.
“That’d be sweet,” she says, and you’re surprised by the earnestness in her voice. “You and Thornton. I’ve seen y’all attached at the hip lately.”
“Oh, no… I don’t think so,” you say, embarrassed. “Top’s just a friend, too. Our parents go way back.”
You return to your book again, still feeling thrown off by the entire conversation, especially Chloe’s admission, your mind in overdrive trying to fill in the missing pieces of that conversation she must have had with Rafe—conversations, plural? How many times had they even talked about you? The thought alone makes you want to book a flight home tonight, and hide from Rafe until you could leave for the airport.
“If not Topper, then who?”
Your thoughts momentarily clear again, and you look back at Chloe. “What do you mean?”
“Rafe’s mine,” she reminds you, like it’s something you’d ever forget. “Kelce has that waitress at the Island Club.”
“Sidney,” you say.
“Sidney, right,” she nods. “But is there anyone for you?”
“There you are.”
Rafe appears on the deck just then, suited up in what looks like hiking gear. You never let your eyes linger long, but you especially don’t in the presence of his girlfriend, even if you’re rather interested in the way his sky blue shirt probably accentuates his eyes.
“You ready, Chlo?”
“Hey, almost,” she answers, standing up.
“Oh, hey, Y/n/n,” Rafe says, like he’s noticing you for the first time. “You wanna come hike with us?”
“No,” you say easily. “I’ve got my book.”
“We’re talking about who we’re gonna set Y/n up with,” Chloe says, and her arms snake around Rafe’s waist. He places a hand on her back, but he looks over at you with mirth in his eyes.
“Oh yeah? Who?”
Chloe smiles at you. “Well, I suggested Topper.”
You cringe when Rafe laughs. “Yeah, okay.”
“Why not?” Chloe says, pouting at him. You turn away, but you can still hear the smack of their lips.
“She’s too smart for him. She’s too smart for all the guys at our school,” he says.
“And I’m not?” Chloe says, and her tone gives you goosebumps.
You stand abruptly, gathering your book and the towel you’d come out here with.
“Have fun on your hike,” you say. “I’m gonna go read down on the sand.”
“See you when we get back,” Rafe says. “You’re playing poker tomorrow night, right?”
“Maybe,” you shrug.
“Oh, c’mon,” Rafe goads.
“She probably just wants to read her book,” Chloe says.
You say nothing to that, waving them off as you turn and make your way down the path to the beach to do exactly that.
—
The truth is, you do end up spending much of that weekend with your nose buried in books, thankful you’d had the foresight to pack extra on top of the one you’d been in the middle of when you left. And the time you don’t spend reading, avoiding rooms that both Chloe and Rafe are in, or sometimes even just one of them at a time, you spend with Topper.
“What are you gonna get?”
“You know, I’m not really that into coffee, Y/n/n,” he tells you regretfully, wincing when you give him a shocked expression.
“What? Why did you let me drag you here?” you ask, your hands fluttering around you, motioning to the coffee shop you’d found yourselves in. The coffee shop, newly opened not even a mile down the road from Kelce’s parent’s house, had been under construction last spring break. You’d driven by it every time you all went in and out of town, bummed you’d just barely miss the grand opening over that summer, but all the more excited to come back and try it next year. Rafe had been excited too, when he promised the two of you could hit it up first thing this year. But things had changed since then, and it was hard not to notice the plastic cup dangling from Chloe’s hand when she and Rafe got back from their hike.
“You didn’t drag me here,” Topper rolls his eyes, motioning for you to move forward in line. “It’s nice out. We’ll probably be stuck inside the rest of the trip when that storm rolls in, and I already feel all cooped up in the house.”
“Tell me about it,” you sigh, your eyes scouring the menu for anything without coffee or espresso for him. “You could get a matcha?”
Topper grimaces. “Get your coffee. Don’t feel bad. We can hit that ice cream shop down the street after this if you’re not in a rush to get back to the house.”
“Fine with me. Do you know what we’re doing today?”
“Kelce is probably gonna FaceTime Sidney. Margot and Gretch are probably…” he trails off, checking his watch “…at Soul Cycle right now, and are gonna come home and nap until it’s dark. Who knows with Rafe and Chloe. I think we’re on our own until poker.”
“Mm,” you hum noncommittally. “You gonna play?”
“I’m stealing everyone’s fuckin’ money,” Topper claims. “You?”
“I don’t really know how,” you shrug.
“There’s not much to it. Once you learn the rules, you just can’t let anyone know your hand,” he explains. “You’ll have fun. And I’m sure Rafe’ll give you a crash course.”
Your smile dims, and you’re lucky that it’s your turn to order your drink. Topper waits with you, holding the door to the shop open while you take your first sip.
“Is it everything you ever dreamed?”
“S’okay,” you shrug, swilling the milky drink around, falling into step beside him on the crowded sidewalk.
You don’t mean to spend the entire day out of the house—honestly. But it’s easy to after you get Topper his ice cream, you take it down to the beach together, talking about your families, college, and Topper’s last surf competition and betting on when Kelce is going to give this Sidney thing an actual try. You tease Topper about Emily but he just pushes you over on the beach towel you’re sharing, and you return the favor when he commends you for your away game at the Boneyard.
And it gets even easier when Topper convinces you to finally test your newly minted fake ID at some beach club that’s just down the shore, promising to buy the first round (of whatever “frilly rosé” you want) if you’ll just stand up straight and try your luck with the bouncer.
“Be fucking cool, Y/n/n—act like you’ve done this before,” he laughs, ushering you toward the outdoor bar to deliver on his promise.
You make sure to return the favor by batting your eyelashes at a group of college boys that feel inclined to buy you a drink. They must not be able to tell you aren’t old enough to have a true drink order yet, or maybe they just don’t care when they start talking about inviting you out to to their boat. That’s when you decide to give Topper the signal, where he’d already been watching you from across the beach anyway. He quickly peels you away, finding two straws for whatever god awful concoction thee boys had ended up ordered you at the bar.
And after Topper picks up the tab for a couple more rounds of frilly rosé—which might have turned into full bottles at some point—because, go figure, he starts to get nervous about one of the bottle girls eyeing you both suspiciously, a sunset swim in the ocean before the storm settles in somehow seems like the best idea you’ve had in your drunken lives.
The French fries and onion rings you share on your walk home are an even better one though, all the way up until the sky cracks open in the down pour you’d been outrunning all day when you’re hardly a block away from the house.
After the lack of worrying you’ve done all day, you don’t think twice about drunkenly stumbling into the house with your friend. It can’t be any bigger of a deal than whatever flack you’ll get from Margot and Gretchen over it later, but you realize your tipsy giggles and wet feet slipping against the floor is so incredibly loud because the house is silent, the rest of your friends looking at you from the dining table with a variety of looks on their faces.
“Oh. Hey guys. Poker time?” Topper asks, still mowing through the rest of the food you’d picked up, the way the paper bag had gone soggy doing nothing to deter him.
“Try an hour ago,” Kelce says, eyes flicking between the two of you. “You’re dripping all over my mom’s floor."
“Is it that late?” you wonder, leaning back to peer at Topper’s phone when he takes it out of his pocket, thankful for his hand on your back when you stumble.
“We tried texting you, Y/n/n,” Margot says, her eyes cutting to Gretchen, who nods, a nervous smile on her face.
“Sorry,” you say sincerely, but a hiccup gets you toward the end, and you hear Topper chuckle behind you.
“Are you guys… drunk?” Rafe asks, his tone of voice not exactly accusatory, but definitely confused. And the way he’s asking isn’t funny, because if you had a clear head you might think he’s genuinely concerned. The way Chloe’s sitting in a separate chair and still somehow practically in his lap, looking like a dog with a bone not because of that, but because of the way you and Topper are touching, is also nowhere near humorous.
But Topper’s suddenly got the giggles, and maybe it’s how uncomfortable this entire situation is that makes them so contagious, but you can’t control your own when he finally answers, “why would you think that?”
“Jesus Christ,” Margot mutters at the two of you, placing her cards on the table to rub at her temples.
“Are we dealing you in or not?” Kelce says, and you can’t believe your ears when you detect disappointment.
“Next round?” you try, already heading for the stairs, unsure of who’s eyes you even want to avoid anymore, but deciding it’s probably safest to choose all of them. “I really need to shower.”
“Same,” Topper says, already following you up.
“Kelce,” Chloe stage whispers. “Don’t interrupt them.”
Rafe doesn’t stage whisper, because you catch what he says even when you and Topper go your separate ways at the top of the staircase. “He’s not interrupting anything, Chlo.”
—
You don’t know if Topper rallied to join the poker game last night, because the rosé and the sun and the swimming and the running had really caught up to you in the shower, and it was all you could do to brush your teeth before climbing into bed before even drying your hair.
Getting to bed earlier than everyone, you thought you’d enjoy the downstairs of the house to yourself the next morning, the sound of the rain against the large window panes actually soothing to your impending headache—but you have no such luck.
Rafe is already at the coffee pot, back turned, sans any semblance of a shirt, and you stop so suddenly that your foot catches on the floor loudly, accidentally alerting him to your presence.
He twists around, assessing your pillow messy hair while rocking his own, awarding you just the tiniest smile. “She lives.”
“Can you brew a pot?” you say in greeting, already foraging for a mug and the creamer, peeling your eyes away from golden skin.
“I got you,” he says, adding more grounds. Your head aches with every jilted step you take, and you're suddenly reminded why you should always abide by ‘wine before liquor, never been sicker.’
You’re at a loss, surveying the kitchen for some sort of medicine stash when Rafe opens a drawer, tossing you a bottle of Advil.
“Thanks,” you mumble, taking it with you when you slump into a seat at the breakfast bar, pressing your head into the cool tile of the kitchen counter. The only sound in the kitchen after that is the drip of the coffee into the pot, and you suddenly realize this is the first time you’ve been alone with Rafe this entire trip.
“Here.”
Rafe sets a glass of water in front of you, and then to your absolute horror, leans over the counter in front of you, muscles in his arms straining. You toss back a few tablets and a gulp of water so huge your eyes sting, setting it back down before another wave of nausea hits you.
“Thanks,” you repeat.
“This place is nuts,” Rafe says. “Can’t even imagine it in the summer.”
“Probably looks a lot like Kildare,” you mumble. “But bougier.”
“True enough. You good?” he asks, not looking appeased when you nod. “What’d you and Top get up to anyway?”
“Coffee at that place. Top wanted ice cream. Went to this beach club,” you mutter, hiding your face in your hands, stomach turning at the thought of alcohol. “He peer pressured me into that one.”
“I’m sure he did.”
“He can be very convincing. I can see why he’s thinking of law school,” you sigh, rubbing at your eyes as you recall the rest of the day. “Then, um—oh yeah, went swimming. Got dinner.”
“Where?” Rafe asks, and you shrug, wondering when you’ll be able to take this coffee up to your room and crawl back into bed with it.
“It gets patchy after that.”
“Right,” Rafe sighs, and you hear him shifting around, fidgeting against the counter so aggressively that you can feel it. “He should know better.”
Your hands fall from your face, your elbows holding you up as you scrutinize him. “What?”
Rafe shrugs, head dipping. “You guys were out alone, not picking up your phones while he’s getting you drunk—probably around a bunch of dickhead frat boys at whatever stupid beach club. There was a storm coming in off the coast, we had no idea where you were and you’re drunk and swimming in the ocean. He know should better. You should, too.”
Your eyes narrow. “I told Gretchen and Margot when I left, and they have my location. Also, I know how to swim.”
He turns to face you. “I’m just saying—”
“No,” you say, surprising yourself when you don’t let him talk. “Top’s one of my best friends, yours, too. We wanted to get out of the house and got caught up, but we were fine. We were at a bar, not jumping off of the lighthouse or at some random house party.”
Rafe smiles like you’re being ridiculous, a look you aren’t used to receiving unless it’s in jest, and it makes you feel so much smaller than you’ve already felt all week. “Just looking out, Y/n/n. People were worried.”
“People?” you ask incredulously, pushing your palms into the counter to stand-up. “Like who?”
You tear your eyes away from where Rafe has fish-mouthed, sensing someone else’s presence in the kitchen.
“Hey, you,” Chloe singsongs, strolling into the kitchen in a shirt you recognize.
The pressure behind your eyes is building, the voice in your head screaming at you to get out of here now, coffee already forgotten.
“Have fun with Topper?” she asks.
“Chloe,” Rafe says pointedly.
“Tons,” you answer, not waiting for either of them to respond before booking it out of there.
—
The storm in Montauk that week was nothing a couple of Outer Banks kids weren’t used to, but the same couldn’t be said for the power lines on the street where Kelce’s parents’ house sat.
You’re reading, holed up in your room when the power flickers off, all of the appliances that had been humming suddenly silent, making the sound of the rain even clearer.
“Shit,” you mutter to yourself, realizing you probably can’t hide out anymore.
You turn your phone flashlight on and make your way downstairs, where you’d left everyone after dinner. Things had loosened up in the group as the day wore one, but you hadn’t said a word to Rafe, and the eyes his girlfriend kept giving you and Topper were only making matters worse.
There’s already a couple of candles lit when you make your way downstairs, shining your phone flashlight on the path in front of you so you don’t trip.
“Can I help with anything?” you ask Kelce, who’s sitting at the kitchen table on his phone.
“My dad says there’s more flashlights in the closet by the laundry room, could you grab a few?” he asks.
“On it,” you say, putting aside whatever silent battle the two of you had been fighting since you got on the plane to come here.
Kelce’s face looks grateful, illuminated by the candles Gretchen was setting up all over the lower level. “Thanks, Y/n/n.”
It doesn’t take you long to find the closet, right by the laundry room as Kelce had said. You swing the door open to begin investigating, sighing heavily when you see a row of flashlights on the top shelf. “Mother—”
“Fuck.”
The door nearly smacks you in the face, a force pushing it back toward you suddenly where you stand in front of the closet. “What the fuck?”
“Ow,” Rafe groans. “There was a door there.”
“Oh shit, Rafe,” you whisper. “Are you okay?”
You try to find your phone where you’d left it on one of the shelves so you can shine the light, but he grabs your arm suddenly, trying to get his bearings.
“Shit, sorry—it’s dark as fuck in here,” he says, still sounding like he’s in pain. “Kelce sent me over here to get flashlights.”
“They’re here,” you say. “In the closet.”
“Right. The closet with the door I just introduced myself to.”
“You’re sure you’re okay?” you ask. You couldn’t even tell how close Rafe is to you right now, that’s how dark it is, but his grip on your arm and the way you’re sure you can feel his body heat is enough to have you forgetting all about the conversation you’d had earlier, until he brings it up.
“Are you okay?”
“I didn’t just smack my head on a door,” you laugh lightly, using the arm he’s holding to guide him out of the way, the two of you standing in the laundry room.
“I know—fuck. I’m gonna have a mark,” he says. His touch leaves your arm suddenly, and then you see the flick of a lighter meeting the wick of a small votive candle, which he sets on the washer.
The two of you are modestly illuminated then, and you see no mark, but you do see the regretful look he’s sporting.
“I’m sorry. About this morning.”
“Oh, it was no big deal,” you shrug.
“No, it wasn’t, and I shouldn’t have acted like it was.”
“S’fine,” you say. “I’ve been in a bad mood. Probably shouldn’t have even come out here this week.”
“No, what? Don’t say that—everyone wants you here.”
“Yeah, but—”
“Bad mood or not, Y/n/n—this trip wouldn’t have been the same without you. Top would be lost at sea, most likely.”
You can’t help but laugh at that, even if Topper is the strongest ocean swimmer out of all of you. Rafe would have him beat in a pool, and he loves to remind everyone of that.
“I was being… dumb, I don’t know—it’s…” Rafe sighs, his eyes focused on the candle flame flickering between you as he pauses. “Chloe really seems to think you and him have a thing for each other.”
“I told her we don’t,” you groan, ready to try your luck at getting those flashlights on your own, or even returning to Kelce empty handed.
“I did too,” Rafe assures you. “But last night, I don’t know. I can tell her to cool it, if you want me to.”
You don’t know what possesses you to lean forward, your hand pushing up the hair that had fallen over Rafe’s forehead to investigate the mark forming. You underestimate how close your bodies are in the dim lighting, your midsection brushing against his.
“Am I bleeding?” he asks, his voice hushed.
“No,” you say, retracting your touch, backing into the washer, mindful of not knocking over the candle and sending the house up in flames. “Um, top shelf. Can you reach them?”
“Can I reach them?” Rafe says haughtily, passing them to you as he swipes them off of the top shelf with ease. You hope it’s bright enough in there for him to see you roll your eyes.
“Come on,” you say, clicking one of the flashlights on.
“Wait, Y/n/n,” he says, his touch soft on your elbow when he tugs you back toward him.
“What?” you ask, turning to face him again, the way the candle flame lights up his face no less endearing.
“We’re okay, right?” he asks, his tone almost pleading.
He sounds so earnest, you want to drop the flashlights you’re holding and throw your arms around him, assure him that you’re always okay, always, and that you could never be angry with him for anything. You don’t though, because you almost forgot he has a girlfriend just around a corner somewhere, and you sincerely Rafe Cameron never discovers he can have you just about anyway he wants.
“Yeah,” you say, turning to keep walking back toward the living room. “We’re okay.”
—
Present day
Your parents didn’t open their home to the Outer Banks’ bustling social order often, but your mother really went all out when they did. That might be why you grew up accustomed to peers awkwardly asking you if your mom had mentioned anything about a guest list to you—like she ever would—sent to you to do their parents’ bidding around the holidays.
Tonight was such an occasion, where you’re expected to have every hair in place, exacerbating the missing suitcase issue.
Rafe is already splayed across your bed in his shirt and slacks, cuddled into your old throw pillows like he never left, nursing a glass of some sort of dark liquor your dad had dragged him into the study for on his way up here. “There has to be something in here you can wear.”
“Right now,” you observe, angrily sifting through your closet in just your undergarments. “We’re down to my old school uniform or my prom dress.”
“They’re basically tied in my head,” Rafe calls.
“Neither of them fit.”
“Even better,” he goads.
You roll your eyes, wanting to be annoyed but failing to fully get there. You’d been distracted all day, ever since your run-in at the grocery store. Finding something wearable from the remains of your adolescent wardrobe ought to be the best distraction, but it’s nothing compared to the one taking up your bed.
The distraction walks into your closet then, setting his drink on one of the built-in shelves and taking your hips into his hands, tucking himself in firmly behind you. “Come on. There’s gotta be something.”
The door bell goes off again in the distance, and you huff in frustration. “I can’t believe she kept my deb dress.”
“She did?” he asks, reaching around you to hold the tulle in his hands. “She did. Wear this one. I was your date in this one.”
“I was also eight years younger,” you quip, unceremoniously flicking past it. “And I’m not wearing my deb dress to a cocktail party.”
“What gives, Y/l/n?”
You whirl on Rafe, who sips lackadaisically at his drink, eyebrows raised. “What?”
“You’re being weird. You have a hundred dresses in here,” he says, shrugging. “And you don’t care what anyone downstairs thinks.”
“My mom does,” you remind him, a feeble attempt at an excuse.
“Hey,” he says softly, finger bumping your chin upward. “What is it? Really.”
“Ugh,” you groan, pushing him aside so you can cross your closet, finding a dress that might be an actual contender. “It’s so fucking stupid, Rafe.”
“What is?” he says, slightly amused as you take it off the hanger.
“I ran into Chloe at the store,” you say, not checking for his reaction in the full-length mirror as you slip your dress on. It wouldn’t be the most flattering fit, once you zip it up.
“Today?” Rafe asks, and you hear him set his drink down again.
“Yes, today,” you answer, turning to check your figure from the side, then dropping the dress in a huff, stepping out of it and kicking it to the side.
“Okay,” your boyfriend says, seemingly unperturbed. “How did that go?”
“Nothing, it was nothing. It was fine,” you say, attempting flippancy as you move past him. But he grabs your elbow, pulling you to a stop. He’s a vision in his simple but handsome get-up, and you realize it’s been a while since you’ve seen him all dressed up. Lucky you, you think, scanning him from the ground up.
“Y/n. It doesn’t sound like nothing, or that it was fine,” he says. “Why didn’t you mention it?”
“It’s not like it’s a big deal,” you say, twisting your fingers around each other. “You guys—well, it was forever ago, wasn’t it?”
“Yes,” he says. “Quite a forever ago. A couple. I feel like we’ve lived a couple since then.”
Much like this conversation, there’s a dress hanging in the corner that you’d been tip-toeing around all night. You know it’d be perfect—maybe a little snug but just in all of the right places. You had it stashed here in case something like this were to ever happen. You overthought everything, and it was finally coming in handy.
You smile up at him briefly before you move past him to take it off the hanger. It slips right over your shoulders and falls exactly how you knew it would.
“I just got in my head about it,” you say, shifting your hair to one side once you’re standing in front of the mirror once again. Rafe takes the hint, working at the zipper dexterously. “She was always kind of a bitch, wasn’t she?”
“Babe,” Rafe laughs, shocked. You turn to look at him.
“What?”
“Nothing. You’ve just never spoken ill of her before,” he says, pushing your hair behind your shoulders. “It’s kind of refreshing.”
“Why?”
A blush dusts the high points of his cheeks, and he’s swirling his glass again before taking a long pull. “I mean, I nearly laid your ex out at family dinner.”
You bite your bottom lip, recalling that moment in the wine cellar as clearly as if it happened yesterday. You hadn’t seen or heard from Theo since then.
“We don’t have talk about it,” Rafe quickly adds.
You nod gratefully, letting the moment pass without an answer.
“But forgive me if it’s nice to see a little jealousy from you every once in a while,” he says, pressing a kiss to your head.
“Jealousy?” you say, your eyebrows furrowing. “I… that’s not…”
Rafe looks at you expectantly, smile slowly growing as you fail to vocalize what you’d actually been getting at. That seeing her again had stirred up a deep hurt in you, a hurt he was responsible for whether he knew it or not. And that no matter how much you had healed from it—or how deep you’d buried it—all it took was one run-in with her to bring it all back, memories of Kelce’s Hamptons house occupying your mind all afternoon.
“Sweetheart, it’s alright,” Rafe assures you, eyes searching your face. “I know you love it when I’m jealous, but I kinda just want to keep you up here all night.”
A knock sounds at your bedroom door, muted from where you two stand in the closet still.
“Come on,” comes Dylan’s voice. “Mom told me to drag you out of here, and I’d rather die.”
You huff, turning off your closet light and waiting for Rafe to follow. Your jewelry is already on—you’d kept it simple with your R necklace and a tennis bracelet from your college graduation. Your shoe selection had also been bleak, and you reluctantly slip into some old wedges. It was hardly attire you’d usually wear to one of your mom’s soirées, but it would have to do for both of you.
“You look beautiful.”
Your shoulders drop slightly, and you don’t fight your smile. “Thanks, baby.”
Rafe waves a hand as if to tell you not to even mention it as he guides you through your bedroom door. Thankfully, Dylan is nowhere to be found.
“And I’m just saying, I’m so not opposed to seeing the Academy skirt later.”
“You perv. It was standard issue.”
“You rolled it up. I know you did.”
“Everyone did,” you tell him, making your way down the stairs with your boyfriend on your heels.
“I wasn’t looking at everyone.”
“You make me sick,” you jab, elbowing him softly in the ribs even as you feel your cheeks fill with warmth.
“You make me sick. Lovesick.”
“Rafe.”
Rafe’s smile drops at the sound of your father’s voice, his hand moving from where it had slipped dangerously low on your back up to the middle, before falling away entirely. “Hi Mr. Y/l/n.”
“Would you help my wife with the trash in the kitchen?”
You jump in immediately, hand finding Rafe’s arm. “Rafe’s a guest. Can you ask Dylan to do it?”
“I’ve got it, sweetheart,” he murmurs, before leaving your side at the bottom of the stairs.
“Thanks, son,” your dad says, patting him on the back as he goes. Rafe turns back to you briefly, a prideful look on his face, eyebrows raised in a way that makes your heart speed up faster.
—
I’m so cold
my mom should’ve put extra blankets out?
She did. Still
suck it up buttercup
Pretty sure Cap misses you too. Whining at the door
noooooo my baby :(
What about me?
Your simple reply is a shrugging emoji, and Rafe smiles as he tosses his phone to the side on the bed. It really is cold in here, but Rafe might have exaggerated it a little. He could definitely throw some sweat pants on, but he’d rather complain until you ask him to come up. That way there’s no guilt on his part if he gets caught.
But you don’t appear immediately interested in that, so Rafe does opt for pulling a pair of pants on. Which was a big mistake, because his dog immediately stands where he actually had been whining at the door, ever since Captain realized he wouldn’t be going back to the main house with you.
“I know, bud,” Rafe sighs, leaning down to scratch behind his ear. “I miss her, too.”
Captain whimpers, louder this time, and Rafe realizes he won’t get much sleep tonight if he keeps him out here. It’s late enough, right? Your parents must be asleep after that party, and it’s not like Dylan would rat him out. He takes one last look at his cold bed, then looks back at his dog, who’s still swishing his tail in anticipation.
“Alright. Let’s go.”
The pair walk through the dewy grass and back to the main house, and the back door that sits just below your room is miraculously unlocked. And it’s easy enough to keep Captain quiet, even though his excitement builds the more he’s able to realize what’s going on, far and away the noisiest thing in an otherwise dark and quiet house.
“You’re gonna blow our cover dude,” he whispers, closing the back door as softly as possible. He can see through the house to the base of the stairs, they’re almost home free. He can figure out his escape plan in the morning if needed.
“Rafe, how nice of you to drop in.”
Rafe cringes inwardly, feeling his shoulders drop a couple of inches as he turns toward the study, where your father leans in the doorway. “Hey, Mr. Y/l/n.”
“A little late though, isn’t it?” Will teases, checking his wrist watch.
“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry, I just wanted to let Captain up. He’s been whining,” Rafe says, willing the blush to fade on his cheeks, and hopeful the late night light won’t catch it anyway.
“Right,” your father says, nodding his head with a slight air of condescension, eyes narrowed. “I’ll give you five minutes.”
“That’s perfect,” Rafe lies, deflating further. “I’ll be back in no time.”
“I know,” your dad says, turning to head back into his office.
Rafe feels himself going out on a limb before his brain can even process if that’s the best idea. But he’s cold, and he feels a little weird about things with you, and if he were a dog he’d probably be whining ten times as loud as Captain was. “Mr. Y/l/n, with all due respect—”
“This better be good.”
“We live together. We have for over a year now,” Rafe points out.
“I know.”
“And I mean,” Rafe ventures, slightly embarrassed but still willing to go the lengths. “It wouldn’t be my first time spending the night in her room.”
“As far as my wife is concerned, it would,” your dad says, raising his eyebrows significantly.
“Okay, but—”
“Five minutes,” Will says, with finality.
“Yes, sir,” Rafe says.
He leads Captain up the stairs—well, Captain leads him, really, right to your door. He knocks softly, hoping you hadn’t fallen asleep in the last ten minutes.
“Jail break,” you gasp, once Rafe pushes the door open. You smile when Captain runs to greet you, who collects the attention he desired before finding the bed in the corner of the room, curling around Wilbur.
“Unbelievable,” Rafe says, walking toward the bed. He leans over you, not letting himself get in because he knows he won’t be able to get out. “Hi."
Your giggle settles something that had been anxious in his stomach all evening, sending you looks across the room when you were out of his reach, talking to your dad or any one of your mom’s friends. Your arms lock around his neck for a quick second, and he tucks his face into your neck.
“Hi. Thought I heard the back door.”
“The warden downstairs gave me five minutes,” Rafe says, unable to keep himself from smiling when you laugh too.
“How generous of him,” you say, shuffling to the side the make room. But Rafe doesn’t let you, because that’s dangerous territory.
“No, I can’t. You’re too warm and you smell too good and I’ll never make it back downstairs in time,” he explains, burrowing his face back into your neck. He feels goosebumps form, and he fails at his only goal of not getting lost in you, pressing his lips into a spot that’s been known to drive you wild.
“Rafe,” you warn, your voice already gone slightly breathy.
He pauses after a minute, planting one last kiss. “Question for you.”
“Mm.”
“What’s the waiting period here?” he says, propping himself up over you again. You blink slowly, and he loves witnessing the daze he put you in start to evaporate. “Like, if I proposed to you right now, would I be allowed to sleep over tonight?”
You narrow your eyes, and the moment is over, Rafe chuckling as you push him off forcefully. “I hate you.”
“No you don’t,” he says. “Not even a little.”
“I hope you freeze to death in the guest house,” you tell him, already rolling over onto your side to face away from him, the little huffs only endearing him more. “Please unplug my lights on your way out.”
“Don’t even joke about that,” he says, leaning over you again. “That’s a real possibility.”
“There should be a space heater in one of the closets. Or maybe you can call Chloe. I’m sure she’d love to warm you right up,” you quip. Rafe falters for a moment, until he leans over just enough and sees your wry grin.
“I have to go before your dad calls Shoupe back over to arrest me, but we’ll unpack that tomorrow morning. Bagels?”
“Nothing to unpack,” you say. “But yes to bagels. Good night.”
He heads back down, after unplugging your lights as he was asked to do. You flip him off when he says good night at the doorway, but still answer his ‘love you.’
Rafe already detests the cold that awaits him back at the guest house, can almost feel it settling into his bones again. Maybe he should’ve toughed it out with Captain in the end, because he could’ve produced some extra body heat and Rafe wouldn’t have had a chance to remind himself what he was missing in the main house.
He makes no attempt to tip-toe past Will’s office, wanting his loud footsteps to echo just so your father knows he kept his promise.
“Rafe, a word?” Will calls.
Fuck. Rafe checks his watch, wondering if it had been longer than he thought. He pops his head inside. “Sorry. On my way out now.”
“No, I don’t care about that,” he says, waving a hand. He gestures to one of the chairs in front of him. “Have a seat.”
“Yes, sir,” Rafe agrees, dropping into the seat closest to the door. He sits quietly while Will continues working on his computer, a deep furrow in his brow.
“How was the birthday trip? To uh…” Will asks, doing the snapping thing he always does when he’s thinking out loud. “Aspen? No, that’s not right.”
“Telluride,” Rafe corrects, nodding at Will’s ‘ah.’ “It was amazing. Y/n flew my sisters out and everything. They can’t ski to save their lives, and I’m hardly better, but we all had a great time. Y/n was very patient with them.”
Your dad smiles, and Rafe lets the silence hang there until it’s clear enough that he’s waiting to find out what this is about.
“I know it’s late. I find it so hard to corner you when you’re over here. She hardly lets you out of her sight,” Will says after a while, leaning back in his chair, hands clasped over his middle.
Rafe feels his spine straighten immediately, but he tries to disguise at his readjusting his position in the cushioned chair as he fumbles for a response. “Yeah, Y/n… um. You know.”
“Mm,” Will hums noncommittally.
“Why would you need to corner me?”
Your dad smiles; he loves to freak Rafe out and he always succeeds. Rafe wishes he wouldn’t make it so easy for him, but he never wants to be caught out of step. “How’s the new job?”
Rafe clears his throat before he chokes on his own spit. “Did… Y/n mention something?”
“Well, obviously that’d be between my daughter and me.”
“Right, of course,” Rafe says, feeling his right leg start to jump up and down softly. That was by far your least favorite habit of his, and he wishes you weren’t upstairs right now so you could tell him to cut it out.
“But she said you were thinking about getting out of development,” your dad clarifies. “Are you?”
“More like thinking about thinking about it,” he says, laughing awkwardly. “Um, no, yeah. Things are fine at the new place; it’s a lot of what I’m used to. Just a different market, completely different. So it’s a change of pace, and it’s good.”
“Is it fine or is it good?” Will asks, tilting his head in consideration. Rafe hasn’t had a proper job interview since his college internships, but this is beginning to remind him of that in an eerie way.
“It’s good, for now,” he says, daring to be honest. Although he almost feels hurt that your dad even knows any of this. Rafe had merely been spitballing—merely—when he’d mentioned this to you in the past. Development was what he was good at it, it was what he knew. It was all he ever knew, but he didn’t love it. Rafe had been suspicious of that to some extent for a while, and he figured it might go away once he moved companies. But even without his dad breathing down his neck, his heart wasn’t in it. Not like yours was when it came to publishing, not like Topper’s when it came to medicine. Kelce pulled 60 hour weeks often, and Graham was entry-level at some newspaper that underpaid him criminally, to the point he walked dogs on the weekend. And you were all happier than Rafe was.
He knew it was temporary for him, but he hadn’t made any concrete plans of when or how to get out, and where he was going to go from there. And that apparently hadn’t stopped you from divulging all of this to maybe the second person he’d rather you not, after his own father.
“But not forever,” Will finishes for him. “So what’s next?”
“I don’t know how much she told you…” Rafe tries. Will doesn’t budge. “But I guess she had some friends over, and she—well, I make furniture, you know? Uh, woodturning was just a hobby I had in college at first.”
“Right, I knew that.”
Rafe nods, because it shouldn’t surprise him but it still kind of does—he doesn’t even know if his own dad knows that, but he can make an educated guess.
“And then I started doing it for Y/n/n. With our porch swing we left at the old house, and then our bed frame, her bookshelf, I made both of us desks, plus a couple of side tables—”
“I get it, Rafe.”
“Sorry, yeah,” Rafe says, message received. “But anyway, a couple of her friends were over once, and some of them asked about a few pieces.”
“To buy?” Will asks.
“Yeah, to buy,” Rafe says proudly. “And they’re friends of hers, so I’d have done it free after materials. But they all insisted. So I had to work out some pricing scales and all of that pretty quickly.”
Will nods, and the unease at being thrown into this conversation before he’d even realized he’d have to have it one day—because of course your father is going to wonder about Rafe’s career and finances—is slightly eased by the thought he might be impressing him.
“Good money?”
“Listen,” Rafe sighs. “I don’t want to give you the wrong idea about anything, because I don’t know the first thing about freelancing or maybe owning a business? It’s not anywhere near that yet.”
“You could figure all of that out, and I could help you,” Will says, clasping his hands together. “But would it be something you want?”
“I’m realistic, sir. It’s not something I’d consider as anything other than a side gig,” Rafe says carefully.
“Okay,” your dad says, nodding in consideration. He leans over his desk, elbows pressing into the wood. “So that leaves your actual career… where?”
“Well—you know, uh. I’m fine working where I am,” Rafe says, before being prompted to add more by Will’s expectant stare. “But not forever. I think the goal is to move more into the contracting side one day.”
“Hm,” your father says. “Get out from behind the desk.”
“Exactly,” Rafe breathes, relieved he seems to be understanding him now. “Maybe do things on my own, or with a couple of partners. I used to work with my hands a lot in the summers, travel to sites all the time. I don't know... I miss that.”
“I see.”
Will doesn’t give him much more than that, which leaves Rafe to fill the pause with his nerve-y internal monologue. “Mr. Y/l/n, I hope it doesn’t come as a surprise to you that I intend to be in your daughter’s life forever. And if you’re worried that one day I won’t be able to take care of her—”
“I’m not worried about that,” Will says, waving the thought away. “I won’t pretend to know the financial situation your parents have left you in, nor do I want you to feel like you should tell me. But I know hers, and she’ll never have to depend on a boyfriend for anything. Ever. That was intentional.”
Rafe nods, because he know Sarah and Wheezie will probably receive the same treatment when that day comes. He never expected it for himself, but especially not now.
“And to be honest, Rafe, we’re only having this conversation because I believe you when you say that’s your intention. To be in her life,” Will continues. “But you aren’t exactly… on the same playing field as her, are you?”
“Not to my knowledge,” Rafe says quietly, looking down at his hands, fidgeting with the newly empty spot on his finger.
“Which is perfectly alright,” your father rushes to say. “Don’t get me wrong. But that’s why I like to know these things. it’s important to me that she isn’t in a situation where she could be taken advantage of.”
Rafe looks up at that. “You have to know I’d never do that to her.”
“But I want her to be with someone who will hold their own,” Will clarifies. “It’s only fair.”
“All of this would be settled before I made anything official,” Rafe says. Truthfully, he’d never thought this far into it, in his own head or even talking it out with you. But it’s a no-brainer that Rafe would want to feel stable before you officially joined your lives together, and especially before you brought children into it. “She doesn’t need to count on me, but I want her to be able to."
“I’m just being a father, Rafe,” Will reminds him. “If you have a daughter, or any kids one day, I hope you’ll see where I’m coming from.”
“I’m sure I will.”
Will flicks a hand toward the door, which Rafe takes as his cue to leave, the adrenaline draining from his body in a seconds. “Do what you need to do.”
Rafe shakes his hand before he leaves, stopping by to look at the landing that would take him back up the stairs to your room, wondering if he should risk the wrath of your mother so he can ask you what the hell that was about.
—
The grass crunches softly underneath your boots the next morning, and you feel a twinge of sympathy for Rafe, wondering if he hadn’t been exaggerating about the temperature out in the guest house after all. You know it can be drafty out there, but Rafe ran warm. Even still, you dig your hands even further into the pockets of the vest Rafe had loaned you as you make your way to the guest house, dogs left in the main house while the two of you just went into town to grab breakfast for your family.
Rafe texted you that he’d come to the main house to collect you, but you opted to come out for him early, just because you wanted to and you missed him.
You make it to the door step before the front door sweeps open, Rafe’s shoulders dropping when he sees you. “I thought I was coming to get you.”
“I missed you too much,” you joke. Rafe’s lips twinge interestingly, like he might have smiled any other time but somehow wouldn’t this morning. He already has his sunglasses on so his eyes can’t give you any indication of his mood, but you still feel comforted by the easy way he slips his hand into yours, kissing the side of your head.
“You ready?”
“Let’s go,” you say, trying to muster your own smile. Rafe must not notice, because he looks like he’s a million miles from here with you as he leads you to the car.
It isn’t like you to bring things up first usually, but with Kelce’s party tonight and Thanksgiving with both of your families tomorrow, you need to be on solid ground with Rafe. And more than that, you want to be. You want to be able to lock eyes with him across any room, nudge his foot under any table or squeeze his hand in any secluded hallway, and know that you’ll make it out alive.
“Did you want to talk about the Chloe thing?” you ask, the silence too much to handle after only five minutes in the car.
“Chloe?” Rafe murmurs, sounding lost. “What?”
“You said you wanted to talk about it today, so,” you shrug, grasping for nonchalance and feeling like it’s far from your reach. “We can talk about it.”
“Oh, right,” he breathes, adjusting his grip on the steering wheel. “Alright, yeah. What did she say again?”
“I hadn’t told you what she said yet,” you remind him. “And it wasn’t really even about what she said, honestly. Maybe a little, because she seems to think about you a lot still and definitely had something to say about it—but anyway, like I said, it was more about, like—”
“Babe,” he cuts in. “If it’s important, I need you to spit it out.”
You recoil. “It’s important, Rafe. I wouldn’t bring it up if it wasn’t.”
“Then what was it?” he asks, no remorse in his tone, only frustration. “If she didn’t say anything, did she look at you wrong or something?”
You never expected Rafe to trivialize you or your feelings, no matter how many times you’d done it to yourself in the past few days, and the world outside of the car suddenly seems colder.
“No,” you snap. “It was more about the fact that she tried to hook up with you even when she thought we were dating, and you knew and still went out with her after the fact.”
Rafe seems caught off-guard. “What are you—do you mean when we were kids? When we were 17?”
“I was 16,” you add pettily. “And I didn’t say it was rational. I told you yesterday, it’s stupid.”
“Then why are we talking about it right now?” he asks, exasperated.
You can’t help but reciprocate his frustration, even if you don’t find his warranted. “Because yesterday, you said—”
“It was years ago, Y/n/n,” he interrupts.
“I’m not an idiot, I know it was,” you say. You’ve had enough at this point, and you’re more than suspicious of his suddenly rude behavior—a world of difference from the guy who snuck up to your room just last night just to tell you he loved you. “Why are you being like this?”
A muscle in Rafe’s jaw ticks, and that’s when you know he’s really upset about something. He pulls into the parking lot outside of the cafe, turning to look at you as soon as the car is in park. “Because I’m a little concerned that we’re spending so much time on bullshit that happened in high school when last night you were apparently telling your dad I’m about to quit my job so I can freeload off of you.”
You pull back, mind reeling at the abrupt topic change. “What? I didn’t tell him that.”
“Really?” he says, and you get the sense he isn’t waiting for an answer. “Then where did he get the idea that he needed to lecture me about not taking advantage of your trust fund?”
Rafe gets out of the car, leaving you speechless and scrambling to follow him. But he comes around before you can even get that far, waiting for you to get out of the passenger’s side with agitation radiating off of him in waves.
“Rafe, I never—”
He shuts the door. “When I told you I was thinking about doing something different—literally just thinking about it, Y/n—I didn’t think you’d run and tell Will.”
“We—no, Rafe,” you say, still scrambling to find your footing on the defensive. “No, we were just talking at their party. He asked about you.”
It’s hard for you to remember on the spot, and because until now it was so incredibly insignificant to you. You had a spare moment with your dad in the midst of your mom’s soiree—he asked about Rafe and his new job, so you told him.
He stuffs his hands into his pockets, his tongue in his cheek. “So you told him I might need you to bankroll my pipe dream. Got it.”
Rafe turns to enter the restaurant, and the stubborn way he holds the door open for you just angers you even more—like he knows he’s being ridiculous. The two of you join the queue, a few inches separating you. “We’re talking about this at home. We’re not gonna be that couple fighting at the bagel shop.”
“Oh, good. Maybe we can ask your dad to join,” he bites sarcastically. “Fuck it, Dylan can come too. Might as well hear what everyone thinks.”
“Rafe,” you warn, weary of anyone within earshot. It’s early enough that there aren’t many people around, but you can’t believe his behavior.
“We’ll talk at home,” he concedes.
You stand beside him in silence while the line inches forward, wracking your thoughts for anything you could’ve said that would sic your dad on Rafe like that. You were close to your dad and you shared a lot with him, but you’d never share something that would make Rafe uncomfortable; you knew how important that relationship was to him. You’d honestly just been proud to share something so exciting with him, that Rafe had recently turned a hobby into something more. That people saw what he was capable of and wanted to pay him for it—that he was starting to see himself outside of Ward’s web.
“Y/n,” he calls, and he’s standing at the register, grasping a single take-out cup. “Dylan wanted almond milk, right?”
You nod affirmatively, and he turns back to the cashier to hand it over. The rest of the order you’d called in is on the counter before him, he’d been checking it over just to make sure all of your family’s orders were correct.
“I’m sorry about that,” he apologizes, but the employee waves him off, leaving temporarily to fix it.
Rafe reaches for his wallet, and a thought occurs to you. Before you can think of it you’re reaching into your jacket pocket. “My dad gave me his card.”
Rafe scoffs gently, a disbelieving smile pulling at his lips. “I can pay for it.”
“Rafe, it’s all of my family’s stuff.”
“I wouldn’t have agreed to go get it if I wasn’t fine paying for it,” he insists, teeth nearly gritted. “Drop it.”
“That’s ridiculous—”
The cashier giving the total interrupts your bickering, and the precarious glance he casts between the two of you as he puts Dylan’s coffee back into the drink carrier makes you want to crawl out of your skin. You do the next best thing, grabbing the drinks and leaving Rafe to get the food as you stomp outside.
You’ve been pouting for a full 30 seconds before Rafe even joins you, putting the food in the back seat, and you can tell he takes one look at you and decides not to press it, not saying anything at all until you’re back in your parents’ driveway.
“I know we were gonna spend the day together,” he says quietly. “But I think we should split up after breakfast. Cool off.”
“But your sisters…”
“Will understand,” he finishes. A sad, little smile graces his lips. “And be even more excited to see you tomorrow.”
“What about Kelce’s party?” you say, grasping at anything.
“I’ll come get you,” Rafe sighs, tugging his hat off to run a hand through his hair. “Or I can meet you there, if you wanted. I just need to clear my head, baby.”
You pull out your last defense, out of desperation but also genuine worry for him. “And you’re fine to go to your dad’s alone?”
“Mhm,” he quickly answers, twirling your keys in his grip. “Did it for like 20 years, so…”
“Yeah,” you agree, swallowing your hurt when you realize he’s really serious—that even facing Ward alone isn’t enough to deter him from leaving you right now. “That’s fine. I should get to baking. Without distractions.”
“Good,” he says, finally stepping out of the car. You use the time it takes Rafe to come around to the passenger’s side to suck in a sharp, deep breath, bottling up tears so instinctual you hardly even realize they were coming before he opens your door for you.
“Good,” you agree, stepping out to follow him without meeting eyes.
—
“What’s with all the pies?”
Dylan plops unceremoniously onto the kitchen counter, almost as unceremoniously as he had strolled into the kitchen. You’d made four pies in an attempt to recreate the one Rose had loved last year, but at least you were down from your grand total of nine last year.
“Don’t ask,” you groan, rinsing the last of the dishes in the sink. Dylan sits with his side profile to you. “But take as many as you want. Just don’t touch the one in the garage fridge.”
He points at the one next to him. “What’s wrong with this one?”
“Too sweet.”
“I can live with that,” he decides fishing two forks out of the drawer beside him, passing one off to you.
“What’s up?” you ask, the two of you picking at the rejected pie.
“Nothing’s up. Why does something have to be up?”
“You don’t usually go out of your way to occupy the same space as me unless Rafe’s here. Or if I fucked up,” you add.
“Well did you? Fuck up?”
You shake your head silently, shrugging with innocence when your younger brother gives you a look. “Promise.”
He narrows his eyes, but shakes his head, too. “Your luggage came. I didn’t haul it upstairs. Rafe can get it.”
“Mm,” you murmur, distracted. “Sounds good. That it?”
He sighs roughly, a loud rush of air, tossing his fork into the pie tine. “I told Mom and Dad. About Everett.”
Your ears immediately perk up at the mention of Dylan’s new boyfriend, but you try to contain your emotions as not to spook him. “You did?”
“Yeah,” he breathes, smiling so unabashed it makes your heart melt, your own woes temporarily forgotten.
“And?” you push gently.
“You were right,” Dylan admits, rolling his eyes. “They were all over me about when they can meet him and what he’s like and what his parents do and… yeah, all of it.”
“Dyl,” you say. “I told you.”
“I know,” he sighs, scratching at Wilbur’s ear. “I know.”
“Does this mean he’s gonna come here? And we can double date?”
“You’re joking, right? He’s never coming here,” Dylan laughs at you, like it’s a dumb idea.
“Why not?” you pout.
“They’re gonna run him off,” he says. “With bloodlines and prenups and just bullshit.”
You roll your eyes, even though he’s correct. “You’ve been dating for, what, three months?”
“It’ll be four in a few days,” Dylan admits quietly, only letting you hug him for a record three seconds before he’s pushing you away.
“Look at you. They can be a lot, though,” you admit. “I probably would’ve waited until my wedding day if Rafe wasn’t from here.”
“Where’s the Rafester anyway?” Dylan says, suddenly peeking around the kitchen, like Rafe’s going to pop out of the pantry suddenly.
“Thankfully not around to hear you call him that,” you quip. “He fled.”
“Smart guy,” Dylan laughs, then looks at you in consideration. “You guys okay?”
“We’ll be alright,” you sigh, shrugging.
“Ev’s gonna have his work cut out for him. They already love Rafe so much,” your younger brother sighs, cringing lightly.
“Yeah, they do,” you say softly. “But they’ll love Everett, too. As long as he treats you right. And doesn���t have any tattoos.”
Dylan winces and your eyes widen. “They’re not visible. Easily. They’re not… easily visible.”
“Oh my god,” you cry, closing your hands over your ears. “Not my baby brother.”
“Oh, grow up,” Dylan says.
Your chuckle is cut off when a couple of texts comes through on your phone, two curt messages that make your heart speed up slightly. “Fuck.”
“What is it?” your brother asks.
“Nothing—um, nothing bad,” you amend, mind racing—any thoughts of Chloe or your dad or Dylan’s boyfriend suddenly forgotten. “I just have to get ready. Will you pretty please go get my bag?”
Dylan groans, heaving himself off of the counter anyway. “Fine.”
—
It was foolish of Rafe to think Tannyhill would offer him any kind of solace.
It was great to see his sisters, to hear about school and their friends and Sarah’s new internship and Wheezie’s college choices for the half hour alone he had with them before Ward came home, even if it had been permeated by their disappointment and worry at your absence. Which was of no bother to Ward, who seemed more cheery than normal to have Rafe alone, to get under his skin and ask about California without you around to take over, jump in, or just hold his hand under the goddamn table so he know’s he’ll be alright when all is said and done.
So it’s no wonder he ends up at the Lodge eventually. Topper wasn’t leaving Blythe’s side and Kelce was off to pick up his girl, and Rafe felt a little too raw to invite anyone else along.
So he’s alone at his hometown bar on the afternoon before Thanksgiving, because in the last 24 hours he’d transformed back into the scared little boy he always felt like he was on this island, running from everything and everyone. Running from you.
And it’s foolish of Rafe to think he ever could.
Because he’s on his third round from his favorite bartender—the one who’s been serving him since he was seventeen, who took look one look at Rafe as he’d pushed open the door at this dive and poured him his calling card—when the door swings open, spilling sunlight and a breath of fresh air into the otherwise dark space.
Your suitcase clearly made it to you at some point today, if the houndstooth mini skirt is anything to go by. It’s hidden by the long coat you’re wearing, but Rafe can tell the black turtleneck you’re wearing looks just as good on you as the sheer black tights and knee-high boots you’re wearing do. The literal definition of a tall drink of water stands before him, and every sorry soul hiding out in this shithole when they ought to be home with their wives can look, but they can’t touch.
“You found me,” Rafe starts, shifting a toothpick around in his mouth.
“Sarah said you didn’t last an hour at Tannyhill,” you respond flippantly.
“I guess I’m more surprised you came inside,” he scoffs, shaking his head. Charlie makes his way down the bar at this point, glancing at Rafe before focusing his attention on you.
“Can I get you anything?”
You shuck your coat and Rafe bristles—he’d been right about the top—throwing a significant arm over the back of your chair as soon as you seat yourself at the bar next to him.
You lean forward on your elbows, surveying the contents behind the bar before glancing at Rafe’s tumbler unsurely. “Whatever he’s having.”
Charlie raises his eyebrow and Rafe lets out a chuckle, shaking his head. “No. Vodka soda, Smirnoff or better. Anything else, don’t bother. And two limes.”
Charlie nods before he walks off to grab a bucket, and you slouch in your chair, no fight put up. “Probably shouldn’t have anything, honestly. We need to jet.”
“Why’s that?”
You roll your eyes. “Did you check your phone once today?”
He furrows his eyebrows, because he hadn’t. It’d been on do not disturb, but your notifications wouldn’t have been affected by that. “No, why?”
“It’s Kelce.”
“We’re still going to that?” he asks in wonder, because he really wasn’t sure anymore. It’d be smaller than it was in year’s past, your absence definitely more noticeable. But neither of you were one for putting on appearances, and it wasn’t exactly the easiest crowd to conceal things from anyway. He checks his watch, noting the early hour. “He’s not even having people over for a few hours.”
“He called it off,” you say, finally looking at him.
“What?” Rafe asks. Charlie comes back with your drink, and you thank him with a a sweet smile, only taking a small sip before you swirl the straw around and try to cover up a nose scrunch once his back is turned. Rafe feels something loosen in his chest, observing you sitting here in a bar you have no problem telling anyone who asks that you detest. All for him.
“Therese isn’t coming.”
Rafe leans toward you, retraining his focus on the task at hand. “To his party?”
“To the Outer Banks at all,” you say, your eyes full of emotions, ever the empath. “She cancelled her flight this morning.”
“Oh fuck,” Rafe breathes, sliding a hand over his face once it clicks. “Fuck.”
“Yeah,” you agree quietly, taking another sip, probably just to be polite. “He’s screening my calls, but I doubt he’s taking it well. Topper and Blythe are already over there.”
“We need to get out of here,” he decides, already looking for his wallet. He throws way too many bills down between both of your unfinished drinks, checking his phone for missed texts from Kelce. From Topper too, plus a few calls. None from you. “Who’s car?”
“Dylan dropped me off,” you tell him, slipping your arms into your coat when he holds it out for you. “So mine, since you took it this morning.”
Rafe winces. “Your car’s still at my dad’s. I drove my truck here.”
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
“Didn’t really plan for this scenario,” he says sheepishly.
“So, what? You were gonna drink all day and then drive yourself back to Tannyhill? And then come back over and let me get in the car with you?” you huff, turning to exit with an eye roll. Rafe races to catch up, barely catching the door when you fling it open. You stand with your arms crossed, stilling on the sidewalk, and Rafe realizes you don’t know where he parked.
Your questioning is logical, and leads Rafe to realize this is probably the only way this day would’ve ended, with you somehow making everything alright. But that’s what he’s supposed to do.
“Baby, I’m sorry,” Rafe begins, not even sure what he’s apologizing for yet. “I wasn’t thinking.”
“God, Rafe, it’s fine—I know you wouldn’t—ugh,” you sigh, aggravated. But then you reach out and take his hand. “I know we have shit going on right now, but I want to put it aside for tonight. For Kelce’s sake.”
Rafe swallows, nodding, suddenly very sober. He strokes a thumb along yours, reveling in your touch when you don’t reject him. Rafe squeezes back. “Yeah, of course.”
—
It’s a scene all too familiar to him—Kelce’s backyard, where he's sharing a short, glass-top table with Topper, the two of them lounging in a pair of matching Adirondack chairs. A few years ago, Rafe might be rolling up a joint in his lap, trying and succeeding at peer pressuring Topper into partaking with him. But things have changed, and all that sits between them is two tumblers of dark liquor, more expensive than they’d have ever spent their own money on back in the day. But both of their dads’ liquor cabinets were always fair game in both of their eyes.
And instead of perusing the backyard—discussing anyone who caught their eyes—Topper has a lapful of longterm girlfriend, while Rafe’s is just inside.
Kelce had been in a state once you two arrived tonight—weird, quiet, shutdown. Far from his usual, especially tonight, his self-proclaimed favorite day of the year. You’d taken one look and pulled him into his parents’ living room to talk it out. That was your forte, so Rafe had quietly slipped out to the yard to find solace. Besides, he wasn’t feeling too inclined to dole out relationship advice right now.
“He wouldn’t want us to feel bad for him,” Topper says, and Rafe nods along in agreement. “But I can’t help it. This shit sucks.”
“Yeah,” Rafe sighs, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees.
“She didn’t have to wait until the last second,” Blythe says, and Rafe looks over to see her shrug. “Well, it’s true. If she decided not to come today, she’d probably been hesitant for a while. She didn’t have to let him get his hopes up.”
Rafe can’t argue with that, and he wonders if this could be the end for Kelce and this girl. Because he might have a hard time moving past this one, should he ever get the chance to meet her. He knows you will.
“People get weird around the holidays,” Topper explains. “Families and whatever. It’s hard.”
“How can I forget your first time meeting my parents?” she teases. Topper’s cheeks blush red, and Rafe would push for more details if he had the emotional energy to feel invested enough.
“Babe,” Topper groans.
“Rafe, you should’ve seen him on the plane, he was—”
“Babe,” Topper insists, but with a chuckle, and his arms tightening around her, not an ounce of an edge to his tone. Rafe averts his eyes and grabs his drink, swilling it around half-heartedly before taking another longish pull.
“And what about you?”
He looks over when he realizes the question had been meant for him. “Me?”
“Yeah,” Blythe smiles timidly. “How is it being back home?”
Rafe doesn’t cut his eyes to his friend, but he’s sure Topper is panicking. Blythe had always been a little bolder than him, and in a balancing way. “S’fine. I’m staying with Y/n/n’s parents, but I saw my sisters today.”
“That’s fun,” she says, and her eyes find Topper’s. “How’s Y/n?”
Rafe smiles, sensing where this is going. “She’s just inside, if you’d like to ask her yourself.”
“Well, we just…” she trails off, looking to Topper. He looks to Rafe, his lips tucked into his teeth.
Rafe sighs, feeling his shoulder drop a few inches.
“I can leave,” Blythe offers. Rafe waves her off quickly as he downs the rest of his drink, knowing anything shared with Topper is as good as said right in front of her anyway.
“Let it out, bud,” Topper implores, and Rafe sinks further into his chair.
“Oh, fuck off. Her dad riled me up,” Rafe says, condensing his story as best he can. “About work stuff. Money stuff.”
“Yeesh,” Blythe cringes.
“You’d think I’m trying to put a ring on her finger, tomorrow, dude,” Rafe rants.
“Aren’t you?” Topper laughs, taking a sip of his own drink.
Rafe feels his eyes roll at that. “Not tomorrow.”
“Oh, sorry, next week,” he amends.
“Dude,” Rafe laughs, feeling himself start to relax slightly, wondering if his problems might not be as big as he’d made them out to be in his head. After all, Topper’s jabs were based in truth, and maybe Rafe needed to act like he was asking you to marry him tomorrow. There probably would be a ring on your finger right now, if you asked Rafe when you first started going out. But that was before quitting Cameron Development, before California, before you helped Rafe realize he had a lot of work to do on himself if he ever wanted to be half the man you or any of your future kids deserved. You were his real deal, and maybe your dad had finally called him out for not acting like it. He already knew that’s how your mom felt.
“Y/n says her dad loves you,” Blythe says, confused.
“He does,” Topper says. “So really? That’s what all of that tension in there was?”
Rafe flushes at the implication that everyone could pick up on the jilted greetings you both gave upon arrival, becoming briefly concerned of any flack he might get from Kelce later, especially given the heart-to-heart taking place inside right now. He cranes his neck, trying to spot you through a kitchen window without any luck. “Most of it. And also, super random, she ran into Chloe, I guess?”
“Chloe Merrick? From high school?”
“Mm,” Rafe murmurs, distracted and already thinking about how he can smooth things over with you later tonight. The skirt will make things difficult if he lets it, so he needs to be on point.
“Well, bud—why didn’t you lead with that?” Topper laughs.
“With what?” Rafe asks.
“With Chloe.”
“Wait, who’s Chloe?” Blythe says, her words coming out whiny.
“Rafe’s ex,” Topper supplies. “Which literally explains everything.”
Rafe furrows his eyebrows, feeling not drunk but definitely tipsy enough to render him unable to understand Topper’s reasoning. “How’s that?”
“Dude, she hates Chloe.”
“Y/n doesn’t hate anyone,” Rafe says easily, pointing at Blythe when she nods, as if to tell Topper ‘see?’
Topper scoffs. “Sometimes I forget how fucking dumb you are when it comes to Y/n/n.”
“Baby,” Blythe chides, but Rafe feels himself a disbelieving smile pulling at his own lips.
“You think I don’t know my girlfriend?” Rafe asks.
“Not all the time. Not back then,” Topper amends. “Junior year? The Hamptons?”
“Oh, don’t even fucking—”
“The Hamptons?” Blythe muses, scandalized. “What happened in the Hamptons?”
“You really wanna talk about the Hamptons?” Rafe says, taking delight in the way Topper’s cheeks burn red, like he wishes he could put the words back in his mouth.
“No, we don’t have to.”
“You brought it up, bud,” Rafe reminds him, pushing himself into a standing position. He starts winding his arms around, throwing in a stretch for the effect. “And I’ve always meant to beat the shit out of you for taking my girlfriend to dinner.”
Topper sputters momentarily. “We did not—it was not—”
“Dinner!” Blythe gasps, before smiling wickedly. “You took Y/n/n to dinner? Did you kiss her? Did you date? Did you—”
Rafe slips away silently, taking the cue he perfectly set up for himself, but not before receiving what he hopes is a good-natured glare from his best friend. The mouthed ‘I hate you’ from over the top of Blythe’s head really seals the deal.
But Topper’s implications sit funnily in his stomach, and he doesn’t like the feeling at all. He heads back inside, hoping to a higher power you’re done talking with Kelce so he doesn’t have to rip you away, because he can’t stand another minute with so much unresolved.
—
“I really thought… Y/n/n, I don’t know what I thought,” Kelce says dejectedly, his fingers interlaced, head bowed between his knees. “But I didn’t think this.”
You watch sadly as he swipes his beer off of the table, not even interested in drinking anymore, just needing something to hold. “I’m so sorry, Kelso.”
“I don’t know why this always happens to me. Like I finally find someone I like and who understands me and loves me—I thought. But she just runs.”
It’s difficult to give someone you don’t know the benefit of the doubt when they’ve put your friend—someone who you’ve already seen go through so much heartache, who’s seen you through your own—through something like this, but you try for his benefit anyway. “Maybe when you get back to Austin she’ll be able to explain, Kelce. Right? Didn’t she say she wanted to talk?”
“Does that sound like a good talk to you?” he deadpans. “‘I’m not coming to meet your family and friends, and I think we should talk when you get home?’”
“Kelce…” you say morosely, leaning into his side. “I don’t know what to say.”
“I just wish—I wish she’d told me, or that she’d come anyway. We could’ve talked, just us. Would’ve cancelled the whole fucking party and locked you all out if it was too much for her, seriously,” he says. “We could’ve worked it out.”
You hear Rafe’s soft laughter filter in through the open screen door, and something tugs in your stomach. “Even when you really love someone, Kelce, sometimes it’s just easier to run.”
He looks at you, unamused.
“I’m serious,” you say, lowering your voice. “Look at Rafe and I.”
Kelce scoffs. “Okay.”
“I mean it,” you answer, becoming impassioned. “It took us forever, and sometimes… sometimes we still fuck it up.”
“Yeah, but,” he says, actually sipping at his beer this time. “You always work it out.”
“Not always,” you murmur.
He seems surprised. “What? You talking about Rafe’s little storm cloud?”
“His what?”
“He gets like this every time he comes home, Y/n/n. Come on,” Kelce says, like you should know what he means.
“I don’t follow,” you say, leaning back into the couch, crossing your arms over your chest.
“You know what? Of course you don’t. Because you’ve never been subjected to it,” Kelce laughs. “He’s like an angsty teenager again as soon as he steps foot on this island, especially before y’all got together.”
You think back to what Rafe had said in the car this morning, how he’d casted you off and walked right into Ward’s house without you. “Think it’s more than that this time around.”
“How so?”
There’s a knock at the entryway into the living room, and then your sheepish boyfriend stepping into the frame, leaning up against it while you both gaze upon him. “Hope I’m not interrupting.”
“Never,” Kelce says, moving to stand. “I was wondering when you’d come get her. Actually starting to worry.”
You roll your eyes but you stand to, looking for your bag and your keys because you could tell Rafe was ready to head out from one look at his face.
“Kelce, man,” you hear him say. “You good? We’ll stay.”
“I’ll be alright,” Kelce sighs. “And I’ve got my hands full with Top, Blythe. Girls should be here soon, too. Wouldn’t be the first time you two left my party early.”
“Kelce,” you chastise.
“I’ll probably invite whoever didn’t make the original guest list,” he continues, returning from the kitchen with a fresh beer. “Full house. Gonna invite Sarah and John B and his friend who has a thing for Y/n. Griffin might even sniff it out. Chloe, too, since I heard she’s int own.”
“Alright,” Rafe cuts in. “We get it, Jesus.”
“You’re sure?” you say.
“Oh my god,” Kelce sighs, leaning into press a kiss to the top of your head. “Go. Both of you.”
You walk away to wait awkwardly in the entryway as they say their own goodbyes, wondering a second too late if you should’ve strained your ears harder to hear once it takes a little longer than a normal parting for the two of them.
Just as Rafe emerges into the entryway, Gretchen and Margot both pop through the front door, giggling and holding an impressive number of pink bottles in between them. They both startle when they see you, their faces transforming from glee to the opposite once they look at you for a little longer.
“Why are you wearing your coat? Take off your coat,” Gretchen demands, stomping her foot.
“We’re heading out,” you say sadly. “Kelce is in the living room.”
“Nooo,” they chorus, leaning into fuss over you.
Margot notices Rafe standing behind you then, narrowing her eyes. “Cameron.”
“Not tonight, Margot. And take it easy on Kelce, yeah?” he warns.
She looks called out, and you can practically hear the argument forming in her head. “Buddy—”
“For the love of god please take her,” you whisper to Gretchen.
“We better see you guys tomorrow night. After dessert, at mine?” she pleads, smiling when you nod. “Good. Oh—let me get a picture.”
“Gretch—”
“Rafe, get over here,” she demands, interrupting whatever quiet squabble Margot has taken up with Rafe, who looks more than relieved to take your side.
Gretchen picks up the film camera you hadn’t noticed hanging around her neck, backing up a few steps and pointing it at you both. “Pretend like you like each other, at least.”
Rafe’s arm settles around your shoulders, pulling you back into his frame, and you try your best to put a believable smile on, recalling Kelce’s words.
The flash goes off and Rafe presses a kiss into the back of your head before moving away from you, his hand falling to your back.
“That’ll work,” Gretchen says, turning to follow Margot where she stomped off, no doubt in a beeline to a grieving Kelce. “Love you guys.”
“Let’s go home?” Rafe finally asks, his voice quiet even though nobody is around to overhear him.
“Home,” you confirm, grabbing onto his hand and leading him out the door.
—
Rafe’s done a few dumb things in the last day or so, but this might be the dumbest.
The trellis below your window hadn’t changed at all, but Rafe’s ability to navigate it might. He hasn’t gone up this way in years, and it’s not as romantic as he remembers it being. Maybe it’s because now he’s groveling instead of trying to woo you, or maybe it’s because you’re not aware of his sojourn, not sticking your head out the window and looking down at him sweetly, hair flitting around you and ready to tug him over at the last step. Not tonight though, not after Rafe had sent you off to your room with nothing but a kiss to your forehead and loose promise to talk tomorrow before Thanksgiving dinner at Tannyhill.
And maybe Rafe’s just not as young as he used to be. Which is why he’s surprised to find the window open at all, allowing him to tug himself over and in, miscalculating the footing and landing on his ass, the box in his pocket stuffed under his hip awkwardly as he makes contact with the floor. “Ow.”
“Oh, thank god.”
“Babe—ow,” Rafe winces, realizing he’s probably gonna bruise as he gets to his feet. “I—you said—thought we were gonna talk in the morning.”
“Yeah,” you say weakly, from where you stand in the doorway of your bathroom, your hands twisting together. “I did.”
“But you left your window open for me?”
“Yeah,” you shrug, wrapping your arms around your midsection.
“Because you—baby, baby, don’t cry, no,” he says in surprise, heart breaking as he crosses the room to you and your wobbling bottom lip and big, sad eyes. “Hey, come here, pretty.”
“Rafe,” you cry, muffled in his shirt when he takes you into his arms. “I’m so tired of this shit. I don’t—I don’t wanna be mad at you anymore.”
“I don’t want you to be mad at me either,” he says, leading you to the chair that sits at your vanity table, helping you sit while he crouches down in front of you. “I don’t like it.”
“You usually don’t know,” you laugh, hiccuping slightly.
“Can’t argue with that,” Rafe says, using the cuff of his long sleeve to pat under your eyes softly, stroking your thigh with his other hand while you calm down. “Baby girl, you’re breakin’ my heart.”
“It’s so stupid—with Chloe, and just—I’ll talk to my dad, I promise I will,” you ramble. “Because he can’t just—he can’t. Why the fuck did we even come home?”
“Hold on, hold on. Breathe for a sec,” Rafe reminds you, pleased when you follow his lead, taking in a long, shaky breath. “Good. There you go, sweetheart.”
“I’m sorry,” you say meekly, still fielding stray tears but on the whole looking better.
“You’re good, you’re good. Do you want water?”
When you shake your head, Rafe feels good to stand, leaning up against your table, still within arms length as he strokes your back through your sleep shirt of his.
“What’s going on with Chloe?” he finally asks after a beat of silence.
You huff, but start talking when Rafe bumps your chin with his knuckle in encouragement. “I never liked her.”
“I see that now.”
“I’m glad I did such a good job of hiding it when I was younger,” you laugh dejectedly. “Thought I was so obvious.”
“Apparently I’m the only one who didn’t catch on. Even with Topper dangling you in front of me like a carrot at the Hamptons house,” Rafe says, rolling his eyes.
“He did not,” you defend.
“Oh, he did so, baby girl,” he counters, scoffing. “Are you kidding?”
“Rafe. You had a girlfriend on that trip,” you point out. “And Topper didn’t even know…”
“He knew.”
You shake your head. “No, no that can’t be right. Topper? Topper Thornton? He’s like the least likely to meddle out of all of them.”
Rafe gives you a look. “That isn’t saying much when it comes to our friends.”
You nod in consideration, your eyebrows still furrowed as you prop your head up on one of your hands.
“But, baby…” Rafe says, stroking a hand over the top of your head, his fingers digging into the hair at the nape of your neck. “You can’t still be worried about it. Not after all this time?”
“It isn’t like that anymore, Rafe. I mean, you’re a catch and I’m never gonna take that for granted,” you pause to crack a small smile when Rafe won’t let that one go so easy, tugging at the end of your ponytail, “but I’d like to think you’d never hurt me or leave me.”
“Never ever.”
“She was making comments about our lives and whatever, like she still knows you. Like she knows you better than I do,” you explain, picking at your nails. “And it pissed me off.”
“Okay,” Rafe nods, unsure if he wants to ask what she said specifically, and ultimately deciding against it. “But that wasn’t all?”
“What do you mean?”
Rafes eyes scan your face. “These aren’t angry tears. And I know you can handle stupid island gossip.”
You groan, hiding your face in your hands again. “It’s so dumb.”
“It’s not,” Rafe insists, batting them away. “Not dumber than anything I’ve been mad about today.”
“Rafe.”
“What were you talking about in the car this morning? Seriously, baby. Let me in,” he says.
“Are you making me?”
“Yep.”
You sigh one last time, sitting back in your chair with your arms crossed. “We weren’t dating. But you were still like one of my best friends, right?”
“Correct.”
“So it just… I don’t know. It sucked that you dated her, because she was perfectly fine going behind my back before she knew we were nothing.”
“We weren’t nothing, baby.”
Frustrated, you push at his knee. “Don’t be cute, you know what I mean.”
“I’m serious. I think a lot of people thought we were something, Y/n/n. In hindsight, I was pretty obvious at least,” Rafe says sheepishly.
“I know, I know,” you groan. “Which is so embarrassing by the way. That that many people knew.”
“It is, but it worked out. Just a little bit,” Rafe reminds you. You bump your knee into his leg in acknowledgement. “So what gives?”
“I don’t judge you for it anymore. I got it over it so long ago,” you recall. “In probably the worst possible way.”
Rafe hums in disapproval. “So we’re even?”
“There’s no getting even, Rafe. I don’t hold anything against you from when we were like, infants.”
“Clearly you do.”
“I don’t. I was young and emotional and just really, really confused about you,” you promise. “I don’t hold it against you, but I haven’t seen her in forever and she just got under my skin about it.”
The image of a younger you, in anyway hurt by Rafe when he was arrogant and young and stupid and above all else still totally in love with you somewhere deep in his heart before he even knew what love was is always too much for him to bare. Even when he keeps a home with you, shares a dog with you, shares a life and all of his future plans and hopes and aspirations—and shares his heart with you. Even after all of that, it hurts. “I was such a stupid kid.”
“You weren’t,” you tell him, your hand taking a place on his knee again, maroon-painted nails digging into the skin under his shorts. “This is why I didn’t want to talk about it, because it’s just stupid teenage insecurities that I still let get the best of me sometimes. She started talking about how I’m your cookie cutter Figure 8 dream, and your dad, and then when you flipped about my dad—”
Rafe finally digs deep into his pocket, at a loss for his own words but one-thousand-percent sure he can’t sit here and listen to you doubt him or yourself anymore, setting the velvet box down on your vanity with authority.
Your words die in your throat, and you take one glance at the box before closing your eyes. “I know you’re not doing this while we’re talking about Chloe Merrick.”
“I’m not doing that,” he says, hoping you don’t actually ever think he’d propose marriage while standing taller than you, while standing at all. “Jesus, baby.”
“Then what—” you reach your hand out, then retract it, doe eyes staring up at him timidly. “Can I?”
“Open it.”
You gently pry it open, setting it back on the desk once you can see inside, recognition crossing your features. “You found your ring?”
“I found your ring,” he says as he plucks the gold band out of the box, grabbing your hand. “Actually never lost it.”
“What are you… wait, why does it fit me?” you wonder, once Rafe can stronghold your fidgeting enough to get it down your ring finger. On the right hand, he’s not psychotic. “Rafe, why does it fit me?”
“You know Wren’s friend Stephen?”
“Yeah,” you answer, flexing your hand, marveling at the ring’s new size.
“Well, he’s a blacksmith, right? And your birthday was coming up…” he shrugs, bashful now, after all of his brevity. “We melted it down. I thought I knew your size, but I swiped that little silver twisty one you always wear when you were sleeping—just to be sure.”
“Rafe.”
“And then it really wasn’t that hard—but it was so cool, baby, he like let me hold it and everything while he worked the metal, and I have pictures, if you want—”
“You melted your gold band.”
“Yes.”
“So I could wear it.”
“Correct.”
“The one you’ve been wearing since we were teenagers.”
“The very one.”
You twist the ring around on your finger, sliding it right up to your knuckle and seeing how it doesn’t give easily, how it was made to fit your finger. You work it off anyway, sliding it to the ring finger on your other hand. Your left hand. “Rafe.”
“You like it?”
“You know you can’t take this back, right? Like you can’t just—”
“I know, sweet girl, kinda the point—there’s even a seam if you really look. But it’s yours now.”
Rafe can forgive himself for the way your eyes well up, because he surmises that this time they’re happy tears—even though he’ll always hate making you cry. “I swear I was gonna save it for your birthday. Or Valentine’s.”
You sniffle. “I love it. I’m glad you didn’t save it. You’ve just been carrying it around?”
He shrugs. “Wanted it close. I felt so bad when you were as upset as you were it was missing.”
“I should’ve known you didn’t lose it in the ocean,” you grumble.
“And now you won’t either,” he quips. “I love you. Don’t worry about the bullshit. Seriously, baby.”
You stand up then, and you two fit perfectly when your arms wrap around his waist, and his fall around your shoulders. “What about my dad?”
Rafe sighs, stroking a hand up and down your back, fingers catching on your tank top. “Let’s head to bed.”
You narrow your eyes, pulling out of his hold.
“Okay,” you agree, reaching for a tub of lotion on your bedside table, before leaning in for a quick kiss. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“I scaled the wall,” Rafe explains, watching you rub lotion into your arms lackadaisically, barely paying him mind anymore. “And it's one a.m.”
“Hm, better be careful on your way back down,” you say, moving onto your legs, tantalizing him. “You always said that one rung at the bottom is getting faulty.”
Worse and worse every time he uses it, and he won’t make it any worse tonight. “You don’t want me to stay?”
“This bed is for people who express their feelings,” you say, burrowing yourself under the covers. Rafe sighs, finally kicking off his shoes, moving them to the corner so you won’t claim a tripping hazard.
“Shove over,” he grunts, slipping in behind you once he unplugs your lights and makes sure your window is shut.
When you remain stubborn, Rafe uses an arm around your waist to move you over himself, grinning when you squeal in delight. “Rafe.”
“I told you to shove over. You’re gonna wake up your brother,” he chastises.
“He’s probably up late. Talking to Ev,” you say, sounding swoony. “I think he’s two hours behind, maybe three? Young love.”
Rafe presses a kiss into the back of your head, using his free hand to trace the shell of your ear, tucking a few wayward strands behind it. “We used to be like that.”
“You were so cute, pretending you weren’t falling asleep on FaceTime,” you say wistfully. “Miss that.”
“I don’t,” Rafe says.
“No? The window entrance was a little nostalgic tonight.”
“You really didn’t think I was coming?”
Your shrug moves your body against his, and Rafe laces his free hand through yours. “I mean, I put the dogs with Dylan so they wouldn’t bark, but I dunno. This is one of those things that just makes you shut down.”
He hides his head between your shoulder blades. “I don’t mean to.”
“I know,” you say, struggling to turn around in his grip, getting a hand under his chin once you do. “But I hate when you push me away.”
“I don’t mean to,” he repeats.
“I know.”
“I think your dad was right.”
The understanding immediately leaves your face, and you pause your petting. “What?”
He kisses your forehead slowly, buying himself time before looking back down at you. “He was. Kinda. I need to get my shit together.”
“Rafe, no…” you shake your head. “No. You don’t have to listen to him.”
To Rafe, it’s as simple as the fact that he does have to. But you wouldn’t stand to hear any of that. “It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not. You had your entire life mapped out until a few months ago,” you say. “You don’t need to have everything figured out right now.”
“Sooner the better,” he mumbles, mind reeling as he thinks back to Topper’s sentiments from earlier, about how he pictured a different ring on your finger at this point. It makes him feel better that you’re currently tracing it with your thumb anyway, knowing you normally take your jewelry off before bed but you didn’t tonight. “He’s never gonna let me get serious with you until I do.”
“Did you discuss my dowry with him, too?”
“Y/n/n,” he sighs.
“I’m gonna wear this to dinner tomorrow,” you decide, turning to face away from him again. “Give him a fucking heart attack.”
“Just let me know so I can go to my dad’s first.”
It’s quiet between you two after that, until you clear your throat. “How was that today?”
“You found me at the Lodge.”
He can practically hear you pouting as you pull his arm tighter around you. “I’m sorry.”
“Not your fault,” Rafe reminds you. “He just… you know how he is. I shouldn’t have gone at all, ‘cause I know he’s probably thinking a million different things about us right now.”
“Who cares what he thinks? Or what my dad thinks?”
Rafe does, and he knows you do, too. Maybe not as much, so he just lets the question hang there, suspended in the air.
“I don’t want you to feel like you don’t have a home here babes,” you say quietly. “You do. My dad just… I think he really cares about you. He’s probably had the same conversation with Dylan.”
Rafe squirms. “I don’t know.”
“Do you want me to talk to him?”
“For the love of god, no,” Rafe says, smiling a little when your laugh shakes your whole body against his. Rafe left a company for you, but he doesn’t ever want you to be in a situation like his. Because some fathers didn’t love their kids, but yours loved you. “I will.”
“Good enough for me,” you murmur, angling your chin just so to ask for a kiss. Rafe meets you halfway, but lets his head hit the pillow beneath him when you posture your own body over him, your leg slotting between his.
“Mm, baby,” Rafe murmurs in surprise, accepting a trail of neck kisses while he guides your leg over his lap completely, your knees bracketing his hips. “Baby.”
“Hm,” you hum, pushing yourself up on your hands, gazing upon him in a way that makes his heart seize.
“We’re in your parents’ house,” Rafe practically whispers.
You shrug, making to move off. But that’s not what Rafe wanted, not at all, so his hands flex on your hips to keep you firmly in place. “You gonna let me off?”
“Well I didn’t say that.”
—
“I could get my CPA.”
You cut your eyes to Rafe where he’s walking beside you, both of your breath visible in the early morning chill. “Do you want your CPA?”
“Good money.”
“Insane hours,” you point out.
“Used to that,” he grunts.
“True. Well, if you want to…”
He shrugs, gripping Captain’s leash a bit harder when he almost gets tangled with Wilbur for the umpteenth time that morning. “Or I could get my MBA, too. I originally wanted to go right into it after undergrad.”
“Really?” you ask, coming to a stop when Wilbur wants to wander off and sniff for a while, Captain following behind him. “Since when?”
“Freshman year. Decided against it senior year.”
“Really?” you reaffirm, continuing when he nods. “Why? Not because of us.”
It isn’t a question, because Rafe knows you’d never let him do something so rash.
“I didn’t wanna be away from you anymore,” Rafe says, to your surprise. “It would’ve factored into where I went, for sure. Just like it would now.”
“Rafe,” you say, confused. “Why have you never… you could’ve gone anywhere you wanted. You should, still. But why… oh.”
“You’re right though,” Rafe says, ignoring the Ward of it all completely. It’s a dead horse to him, the way Ward controlled his life for so long. Forcing him back home after graduation is child’s play. “I should still. I could.”
“Do you wanna?” you ask, shifting Wilbur’s leash behind your back when he walks further off, and eventually following after him to the bush he’s intent on investigating, still glancing back at Rafe when he speaks.
“Not right now,” he says. “I knew what I wanted to do back then. I knew why I wanted to be in school.”
“Right, no, yeah,” you assure him. “But if we ever needed to move… way ahead of myself?”
“Miles. Lightyears,” Rafe smiles, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of your head, eyes still bleary from a night of not enough sleep for either of you, followed by a prompt exit the minute you heard movement in the house. “But I appreciate the sentiment.”
“College Rafe was such a vibe,” you sigh wistfully, reminiscing. “Bring him back.”
“Chill,” he laughs. “I could work finance anywhere. Get a job in tech on some 55th floor in the city. 401k match, stock options.”
You furrow your eyebrows at the second time he brings up money. “Do you want a job in tech?”
Another shrug. “Your dad does pretty well.”
“Rafe…”
“I don’t have the same safety net I used to, baby. I walked away from all of this,” he says softly, almost under his breath, the old build homes you’re surrounded by suddenly feeling bigger and taller, the lawns more manicured and the cars shinier, the eyes in the windows more prying. “And I’m so happy I did. But I wanna give you everything you deserve. I wanna give it to our kids.”
“Rafe,” you tut, stuffing Wilbur’s leash into his hand so you can wrap him in your arms, your cheek smushed into his jacket. “You’re going to. I’m gonna be here while you figure it out.”
“I hate not having everything figured out,” he whispers. “I felt like I always did.”
“Even before you had me?” you venture, tilting your head back to look up at him.
He smirks, looking down at you, ignoring the tug on his arm coming from the leashes. “Maybe not everything.”
“S’what I thought,” you murmur, calves stretching with the strain to reach up and kiss him. He meets you halfway.
“A year ago, I was telling you to quit your job,” Rafe says. “Remember that? That’s how sure everything was.”
You fake wretch, and Rafe hooks an arm around your neck, pulling you into him so he can press kisses wherever possible.
“You’ve come so far,” you tease, batting him away half-heartedly.
Your phone buzzes in your pocket between you and Rafe groans, knowing you have to pull away in case it’s family. You do so reluctantly, reaching to tug it out of your pocket.
“How much time do we have?” Rafe sighs, assuming it’s Dylan or your parents wondering when you’ll be back. But it isn’t.
“No, it’s—Gretchen sent me our picture. From last night,” you say, eyes trailing over your faces. Rafe’s arm sits around your shoulders, where he’d half-heartedly pulled you into his body at her command. His head rests against yours, but the smiles on both of your faces don’t reach your eyes.
Rafe cranes his neck to look at it, humming a short noise before looking away. “We look…”
“A little bit miserable,” you finish, laughing lightly.
“Very,” he agrees.
You groan, your head falling to his chest as you feel the dog leashes start to tangle around you, effectively cementing you to your boyfriend. “M’so glad we moved.”
“I kind of suck here,” Rafe admits, laughing when look up at him incredulously. “I do!”
“You better figure out how to not suck here, Rafe Leopold.”
“It’s a miracle we ever found the time to fall in love on this island,” he marvels. “We’re doing Friendsgiving in California next year, by the way."
“I know you want our kids to have OBX summers one day,” you accuse.
“They will. And we’ll pick ‘em back up from the airport in September,” he jokes.
You push at his chest and almost send yourself falling back into the grass as you do so, forgetting your current predicament. He clutches you to him, a hand wrapped around your wrist.
“Careful, baby, Jesus,” Rafe laughs, holding your hand for balance while you attempt to untangle you both from the leashes. “You got it?”
“Think so,” you huff, sighing in relief when you’re finally freestanding, one of two separate leashes clutched in your free hand.
“Still wearing it?” Rafe says.
“Hm?”
He tugs on your ring finger, fingers catching on the gold band you have no plan to take off soon.
“I told you, no take-backs,” you joke, falling into step with him again while he clutches your left hand. “By the way, you know you only get one more ring, right?”
His neck flushes pink, from the parts left uncovered by his jacket. “I think I know which one you’re talking about.”
“You do,” you tell him, bumping into him sideways. “And if the next time you pull out a velvet box, it’s not that one—”
“Oh, come on,” he says. “You didn’t actually think—in your childhood bedroom with Dylan next door—I was wearing basketball shorts.”
You giggle. “No, no. I didn’t for more than a second.”
“Really?”
Now you get to feel embarrassed, ducking away from his mischievous eyes when you feel heat creep up your own neck. “No. I don’t know, Rafe. It’s a little velvet box. We’ve been dating for years.”
“Sweetheart,” he coos, throwing an arm around your shoulders, pressing a kiss into the side of your head.
“Shut up,” you mumble.
“I wasn’t even kneeling.”
#rafe cameron#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe cameron x reader#outer banks#outer banks imagine#outer banks fanfiction#outer banks x reader#obx
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Rachel didn't know what her stepdad saw in that stupid girl he was dating
She was obviously hot, but she was also bitchy, vain, and materialistic
Unsurprisingly he'd met this goldigger shortly after the medical negligence payout from her mother's accidental death, at the hands of a drunk quack doctor, when Daddy had been looking for some comfort at the bottom of a whiskey glass in questionable bars
"We're going to have so much fun, Daddy says we can spend whatever we want today, I have permission to spoil us both rotten"
Rachel rolled her eyes
"Let's just get this over and done with"
"Okay Rachey, I promise you're going to love it, this salon works miracles, then we go shopping!", Rosie squealed as she said shopping like some over excited middle school girl on a carnival ride
"Whatever, I'm doing this because DAD asked me too that's all, after the salon you can drop me off home before going out shopping"
"Okay meanie" Rosie pouted
Inside the salon it was as bad as Rachel had feared. This was just a grooming kennel for over primped high maintenance bitches, she couldn't think of one treatment she wanted to try.
"Please try the New U facial treatment Rachey" Rosie whined in her bimbo voice for the hundredth time
"Fine if you'll shut up, at least I get to lay down and relax"
She laid back and the beautician put the mask over her face
The mask started to emit a pulsing wave of light
It feels wrong, invasive, it hurts
She tried to sit up but couldn't move
Her brain felt like it was aflame as the light seemed to penetrate her skull
Suddenly words and concepts started to run through Rachel's head.
Bitch, cuckold, homewrecker, conniving, golddigger, manipulative
Every word brought a flood of images and memories of Rachel as the living embodiment of these words
Rachel knew she wasn't, there was no way she could be, she had never, would never do any of those things, her mom and dad raised her with a strong sense of right and wrong and everything she saw herself doing was wrong.
Rachel could sense new color behind her eyelids even though her eyes were closed tight
More information washed over her, new feelings and ideas.
She had secretly coveted her Step Daddy for years after her mom had married him. No he was always her Daddy, no my Dad, wasn't he?
I'd fucked that gold digging bitch's plastic surgeon behind her back, mommy dearest was fucking him to get a discount so he was fair game.
That's how I got him addicted to drugs and me, I got him drunk, high, and fucked him all night before the day of the surgery. I'd made him botch the surgery
Rachel screamed inside the mask, that's not me I wouldn't, I couldn't, I love my Mommy
Rachel felt her body starting to alter as the new light worked it's magic
She started to groan inside the mask as she felt her body staring to firm and tone, her breasts grew as implants formed inside them, her lips plumped, her nails lengthened into beautiful manicured claws.
Daddy loved her body so much better than her mom's pathetic..
"Oh my God, mom I'm sorry this isn't me, this isn't what I wanted!!"
Rachel removed the mask and looked around for her stepmom
Where was she?
"There's only us Raquel", she thought
This didn't make any sense
"We were always jealous of Mommy since middle school, all her boy toys, her clothes, cars, vacations, we just had to bide our time until we were all grown up and then he could be ours"
He?
Daddy?
Was Daddy hers now alone?
Ever nerve in her body fired in unison at this realization as an orgasm swept through her body
Of course New U Salon's machines didn't really work miracles they only used a cutting edge application of Quantum Mechanics.
They did however merge Rachel and her stepmom's quantum realities
A little tweak here and there, so the Quantum realm remained while and all was perfect with the world again
Another happy customer with guaranteed repeat business and referrals to boot
Rachel was very satisfied
Raquel skipped shopping that day and rushed home to her Daddy
She'd wanted him since he'd first walked into her life with her bitch mother
She spent years preparing for when they could be together. Years studying her mother's manipulation techniques, daily exercise at the gym to sculpt her body into a temple to be worshiped, style to dress in a manner befitting a goddess, oh and sex, how she'd perfected the art of love making and giving, she'd become such a slut.
All to be ready for her Daddy and now he was hers, she'd never give him up
New U Salon really was miraculous
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꒰꒰ ‧₊˚𝐋𝐎𝐋𝐀'𝐒 𝐂𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 ─ 𝟒𝐊 ˚₊· ꒱꒱
actually speech less rn like I'm in shock 4k!!! and before the end of the season as well!!! wow fucking wild I appreciate you guys sosos much and I hope you know I love you all anyway you guys know the drill ─ request as much as you want
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moots ─ @mbappebby @photmath @nataliawrites @cialovessirlewis @mrs-bellingham @sebscore @holllandtrash @karotland @remainofthesun @silvervioletvalentine @kevinsdsy @libraryofloveletters @thebearchives @fxllfaiiry @oconso @cartierre @jojojoy1 @starkwlkr @f1version @chrysanthemonza @monzabee @lovelytsunoda @formula-hamilton @lomlando @goldsainz @mehrmonga @vanishingcherry @sportsgirliewithtoomuchtosay @vex-et-soleil @alonsogirlie @redclercs @tomorrcwz @love-bellee @boiohboii @deadaydreams @lecsainz @thatsdemko @bestedoesmeow @tommydarlings @forteafy @folkloresthings @chrisevansonly @poetsblvd @lipringlrh @cieloclercs @leclercloml @h4m1lt0ns
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