#i feel like this season is where some of the cracks in their relationship started to pop up | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

erwinsvow · 3 months

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𝐬𝐮𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥

summary: you were a pogue, and now you're a kook. just like how once you were no one's, and now you're rafe cameron's.

author's note: here it is!!! imagine like s1 rafe with the s2 hair, and basically just having a former-pogue girlfriend through out the whole season. i just think rafe would actually be such a good boyf, he just needs someone to settle him down when he gets a lil crazy. follows the sequence of s1 until about 3/4ths down, where i just started making stuff up. you might read this & think no one would act like this.. and that's fine, i know they wouldn't, but this is a self indulgent story for rafe <3 part 2 of the other seasons maybe? enjoy!!

now spinning: black beauty by lana del rey (soooooo rafe coded! he just needs a hug and some pussy!)

word count: 13.5k

warnings/tags: wheeze is a toddler for no reason. reader isn't the biggest fan of the pogues at this point in time. smut: oral (f receiving), fingering, degregation, use of daddy, rafe calls reader kid because <3, lemme know if i forgot something!

“So that’s it? Really? Your mom is marrying a Kook and you’re moving across the island… just like that?” John B speaks to you as if you had any choice in the matter. You look at him sadly, but you’ve cried so much the last few days, it��s hard to find any more tears.

You want to tell him, want to explain everything. The way your mom has been so lonely for years, ever since your dad passed away. The way she would pull double-shifts every week just to make sure you had the nice, trendy shoes and hot dinner every night. The way you grew up in the cut but it never felt any different than growing up in figure eight, because she took care of you.

And now it was your turn, to take care of her. Blake Richards was rich, and he wanted to take care of your mom, which meant for the first time in a long time, she would be the one being taken care of. And you owed that to her, you owed that much.

“I-I don’t really have a choice, John B. I mean, this is my mom. And she’s getting her chance to be happy. I can’t ruin it for her.”

“Yeah, I get all that but, like, does this mean you’re gonna go full-Kook on us? Because I think that would just be disturbing,” JJ says, and you crack a smile, even as you feel a tear spill down your cheek.

“I don’t think I could ever go full-Kook.” It comes out quietly, a notch above a whisper.

“Hey, hey,” you hear John’s voice again, as he stands up to get closer to you. You feel embarrassed, the way your cheeks flush and heat up when he’s only a few inches away from you. He wipes the tear away with his thumb. “No crying, okay? Nothing has to change.”

The way he says it, you almost believe him.

“Right,” you say, still quiet. There’s a sob stuck behind your throat, and you don’t want the boys to know how upset you really are. You’ve stitched up these boys more times than you can count, set shoulders and bones and nursed bruises for them. “Nothing has to change,” you repeat, trying to convince yourself. Everything was about to change, starting with your relationship with them.

And that’s the one thing you wish could stay the same. Deep down, no matter how many times you were teased and laughed with, there was a part of you, buried away, that thought you would end up with one of these boys one day. Sweet John, funny JJ, smart Pope. Well, maybe not Pope. You’ve seen the way he stares at Kie, even when no one else notices.

But John and JJ, the possibility of being with one of them always lingered in the air. Even when they’re flirting with tourists or cracking so-called boy jokes that you just wouldn’t understand, you always thought they were your endgame.

If only you knew.

Pope and Kiara drive up, just as you’re wiping away another tear. You’re dreading repeating everything to them, shedding more tears.

౨ৎ

“Who is that?” Topper asks, eyeing some girl entering the club. Rafe was getting sick of Topper crying over every pretty girl he saw on the street when he was supposedly dating his sister. He hardly cared about Sarah, daddy’s favorite, but that was his family, and he wouldn’t tolerate disrespect to his family.

“She must be fresh meat,” Kelce says, “I’ve never seen her before.”

“Tourist?” Topper questions. Rafe downs the rest of his drink.

“Nah, man, see that guy ahead of her? That’s Blake Richards. My dad works with him, he’s a big finance guy. He’s a widower, but I guess not anymore.”

“Step-daughter? Jesus,” Topper says. “It’s like a cheesy porno. But I wouldn’t be surprised if he married her mom to tap that, I mean-”

“Enough,” Rafe snaps. “Shouldn’t you be in a fight with my sister?” Topper blanches.

“I mean, look at her Rafe. That is something special,” Kelce says, and then finally, Rafe lifts his head to look at you.

You look… confused. Your head is turning, taking in everything about the club, like you’d never been there before. A waiter comes up to your family with tall glasses of water, little pieces of cucumber and lemon floating around in them with ice cubes. Richards—your step-father—takes a glass and hands it to a woman who can only be your mother, with the same hair and complexion. Before he can take a glass to hand to you, you take it from the tray yourself, smiling and saying thank you. The waiter, some teenage Pogue, blushes at your affection.

When you start walking, continuing the tour, the waiter turns to look at you walk away, gawking like men do when they see something pretty. Rafe feels an overwhelming urge to punch the kid, and cover you up with his jacket.

You’re not in anything too immodest, compared to what he’s seeing girls at the club walking around in, but it feels like it’s too much for the leering eyes that follow you. Your jean skirt comes down a little less than half-way to your thighs. Your shirt is white, with puffy sleeves and little buttons that tighten around the chest.

He sees a glimpse of cleavage, which makes his chest tighten uncomfortably, not in the way he’s used to when he sees a pretty girl. He wants to take his shirt off his back and slide it onto you, buttoning it up all the way and making sure no one else looks at you the way he’s looking at you right now.

“Rafe?” his friend calls, and he’s not sure which one. In your glancing, you turn towards Rafe and you lock eyes for a second. You must have noticed him staring. You probably think he’s crazy, but he doesn’t seem to care much at the moment. Your mother must have beckoned you, because you turn away in a second, walking towards the older couple, trailing behind them again.

“Be right back,” he says, leaving a confused Topper and Kelce behind him at the table. He cuts through the tables near the bar, entering the walkway where your family is already, but coming out of the other end. He gets there just in time to run into Richards, who’s leading the little group.

“Hi, Mr. Richards, right?” he says, holding his hand out. “Rafe Cameron.”

“Oh, Rafe, hi,” the older man replies, shaking his hand. Rafe grips hard, making sure Richards doesn’t think he has a wimpy handshake. Otherwise he’s never gonna agree to what Rafe has in mind. “I haven’t seen you in years, I mean you were half your height last time I was over at Tannyhill.”

“Crazy, right? Well I just wanted to say hi since I ran into you. How’s, uh Benny and Brax?”

“I can’t believe you remember them, they haven’t been to Kildare in years. They’re good, yeah, Benny’s in California now, and Brax is out at law school, at Oxford.”

“Oh yeah, international law, right?”

“Yeah,” Richards says, smiling wide. “You’ve got quite a memory, son, I’ll have to tell Rafe when I see him.”

“Oh yeah, he’s around here somewhere.” Then, he makes his move. He turns his gaze to your mom first. He thinks about it briefly, but if he addresses you before her, your mom will be on guard. He knows how their minds work. “I don’t believe we’ve met before, I’m Rafe,” and he shakes your mom’s hand, but turns back to Richards for the introduction—something else in his little cheat-sheet of rules. Let dad do the talking, so he feels like he’s in control.

“Rafe, this is my wife, Anna-”

“Nice to meet you, Rafe,” your mom smiles at him sweetly, and he smiles back.

“-and my step-daughter.” You smile, and hold your hand out. He shakes your hand, gently, and looks at your face, because he can tell the smile is forced. He wonders why.

“Nice to meet you.” he says, and you smile that forced way again.

“You too, Rafe.” You let go of his hand, and it’s good, because if he held on any longer, the adults would get suspicious.

“First time here?” he questions, still looking at you.

“Yes,” your mother answers, laughing, if not a little uncomfortably. “Is it that obvious?”

“Nah, it’s a lot to take in, I remember that much.” Richards smiles at him, almost beaming. He knows Rafe has been coming here since he could walk. That means the old man appreciates him trying to comfort his new family. Another step closer.

“It is,” Anna says, looking at her daughter. She has those worried eyes, the one Ward’s new wife won’t stop looking at him with.

“Well, it’s the perfect place to be all summer. I mean, pretty much everyone our age is at the pool or the courts.” At his mention of the both of you, you look up from staring at your shoes quickly to looking right at him. He smiles. You don’t smile back.

“Really?” Richards asks, still openly friendly.

“I mean yeah, Mister R, I remember Benny on the golf course, like, everyday. And Brax, I mean he practically taught half of us how to swim.” Richards nods and laughs, continuing small talk about his sons. Rafe sneaks another glance at you, and you look back knowingly, like you can smell his intentions from a mile away.

“Honey?” your mom asks quietly. “Do you wanna go with Rafe?”

“What?” you reply quickly, surprised. You weren’t listening, and he tries hard not to laugh.

“Well, I can take you ‘round, introduce you to everyone. I’ll finish the tour if you and Mrs. Richards are heading up to the course?” He nods at the golf clothes your parents have on, that you are lacking.

“I think that sounds great, right, honey?” Anna presses, and after you lock eyes with her, you nod in agreement.

“Yeah, sure,” you say quietly. Rafe smiles again.

“Great, great, yeah. Well, it was great to see you Mister R. Missus R.”

“Thank you, Rafe. Kiddo, you can ask for the car to go home when you’re ready, okay? Your mother and I are going to get dinner here.” Anna looks up confused, probably wondering how they’ll get back.

“I’ll call someone to bring the car back, honey,” he explains, and your mom smiles.

“I can also take her back,” Rafe interjects. “Tannyhill is the same direction, and I’m headed back anyways. If you wanna leave the car here.”

“Really, Rafe, that would be great, thank you.” You look even angrier than before, but the plastic smile spread over your face doesn’t faze them.

“Right, thanks, Blake. Bye mom,” you say, and then lean over to kiss her on the cheek.

You watch them walk away, chewing your cheek and turning back to Rafe with anger splashed all over your pretty features.

“I can’t believe that worked on them,” you tell him quietly, smiling when your mom turns back to look at you before they turn the corner. Your parents were too gullible sometimes.

“Yeah, me either, kid.”

“Don’t call me that,” you reply right away. “And despite what you think, I’m not touring this place with you. I’m probably never coming back here after today.” You start walking away, in the opposite direction of your parents, when he chases behind you.

“Y’know, I don’t get you. Every girl your age lounges around here all day, and everyone else wishes they could.”

“Well, you know what they say,” you start, smiling sweetly, though he sees through it again. “Idle hands are the devil’s workshop.”

“Really?” he shrugs. “Never heard that before.”

“Yeah, you wouldn’t have.”

“Come on, you’re not even giving me a chance. You don’t even know me.” You laugh at that.

“Yes, I do, Rafe, you just don’t recognize me.” You continue your brisk pace, looking for the exit and getting closer. He reaches out to grab your forearm, holding you back for a second. He guides you into the corner, between the hallway where there’s no one else around.

“Yeah, that so?” Rafe is almost caging you in. He’s so close you can smell his cologne and the scotch on his lips.

“I’m from Kildare, Rafe.” You try to break free of his grip, but it proves even harder than you thought. He holds you in place without even breaking a sweat.

“No, no, no, because I know every pretty girl in Kildare. And you’ve definitely never been here before, so-”

“Really? Even the ones from the cut?” You thought that would be enough to get him to drop your arm, but he doesn’t budge.

“Huh. So that’s why you’ve never been here. Old Man Richards married a Pogue and made her daughter into a Kook? Did I get that right?”

“I’m not a Kook,” you say, squirming, because you still don’t want to be trapped by him. His cologne smells good, your mind wanders and thinks, like ocean air and sandalwood. You snap out of it at once.

“Not yet, you’re not.”

“I’m not going to be, either. A little money isn’t going to change anything for me.”

“Yeah, yeah, kid. That’s what everyone says, ‘til it does.”

“Rafe, let go of me, I said let go-” And he does let go, quickly, and your arm falls. Faint red marks appeared when he was holding on, what can only be a bruise tomorrow. He’s marked you, and you’re not half as angry as you would have thought.

“Come on, kid, we’re finishing this tour. I promised,” he says, and the last bit is so mocking, you can’t believe mom and Blake fell for his act.

He takes you around the entire club, shows you the restaurants, the spa, the pool. At least a handful of girls stare at the two of you walking side by side, but Rafe doesn’t look back at anyone. You don’t know how to feel about that.

The oldest Cameron isn’t a mystery to anyone in Kildare, but you don’t know anything about him besides what the boys have told you. JJ hates him, naturally, John doesn’t let you look at him in passing, and even Pope can find a few bad things to say. But right now, he’s not doing any of those things you would have expected once he found out you and your mom are from the other side of the island. The crude jokes and gold-digger comments are nowhere to be heard.

But you can’t write him off completely yet. After all, this is Rafe Cameron.

He finishes the tour on the golf course, so you can wave to your parents on the course. You’re sipping on a lemonade through a little pink straw, and he finds it hard to look away when your cheeks hollow to draw up the liquid. Your mom and Blake wave back, and you smile—genuinely—for maybe the third time that morning.

“They’re good together,” Rafe comments, on the walk back to the front door, where his truck is waiting.

“Do you really think that?” you ask quietly. You’re tired, he can tell, drained from trying so hard to make sure he knows you hate him.

“Yeah, kid, I do. He’s been a widower basically my whole life. And he married your mom, so he must really love her.”

You can’t tell if he’s just saying it to get on your good side. You hope he’s not. Through all of this, all the crying and the suffering and how much you miss your old life and your friends, if your mom doesn’t at least end up happy, it’ll all have been for nothing. You feel more tears brewing.

“Thanks, Rafe,” you end up saying quietly, as you put on the seat belt in the passenger seat of his truck. His music plays softly in the background of the drive - rap, something you've heard before but can't place - back to Blake’s house. With your window down, you stare out of it and try to pay attention to the breeze in your hair rather than the entirely overwhelming scent of Rafe, which is all-consuming in his car.

Rafe turns to look at you every few minutes. You look perfectly in place in his car, leaning against the panel with your eyes closed. That means you trust him, even though every word you say makes him think otherwise.

Your eyes flutter open when he puts the car in park, outside the door to your house.

“Home sweet home, kid,” you hear his voice in your ear, but he sounds closer than he should be. When you turn to look, he’s leaning over you and so close to you, you feel the heat radiating from his body.

“What’re you doing?” you ask quickly, heartbeat picking up and rocketing off.

“M’just getting the door for you, kid.” His arm flexes, only an inch or two away from your chest, pulling the handle and swinging open the door. He leans back into his seat, smirking. “Why, what'd ya think I was gonna do?”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding in and swallow uncomfortably. Your throat feels dry and your palms are suddenly clammy.

“Nothing.”

“Sure. Whatever you say.”

You climb out of his car, shoes hitting the ground a little too hard. He strains his neck, trying to make sure you’re okay.

“Thanks for the ride,” you say, not meeting his eyes, closing the door behind you.

“Anytime, kid. I’ll be seeing you around.”

You thought he would take over the second the passenger-side door was shut, but he doesn’t. He stays and watches you fix your skirt that had ridden-up on the drive, and walk into the front door, glancing behind you, just for a second, before going inside. And then you hear the roar of the engine, only after the door was closed and you were safely inside.

౨ৎ

You didn’t take it literally, that you would be seeing him again. Rafe seems like the type to play with his toys and get bored before long, but true to his word, you see him days later. And to his luck, you were feeling even worse than the first time you met him.

The morning started like any other—showering in a bathroom that’s just yours, and no one else’s, and attached to your bedroom. You can hardly remember the years when your dad was alive, but after he passed, you and your mom moved into a tiny two-bed, one-bath with your mom’s best friend. You were there for the next five years, until she got married and moved out, and it was just the two of you. But even in all the years since, you’ve never had your own bathroom until now.

You shower as long as you want, whenever you want. Your room is in a completely different hallway than the master, where Blake and your mom sleep. You blast music at night, singing along off-tune from the bathroom, and would stay on the phone for hours with your friends. If anyone answered your calls anymore.

It’s been three weeks since you broke the news to everyone that you were moving. Two weeks since you actually moved. One week since Rafe walked you around the country club and drove you back home, like you belonged to him. In that time, you’ve driven down to the Chateau twice, walked by Kie’s house, which is now just a few blocks away, and texted multiple times—all with no responses. At first you panic, thinking something’s happened, but then you realize this was what always happened. When you’re off on an adventure, you don’t think about who’s waiting for you back at home.

That’s what’s running through your mind when you run into Rafe again that day.

You had showered without interruption, taking your time doing your hair up just because you felt like it. There was no work to be done, no chores assigned to you anymore. Breakfast was always prepared when you went downstairs, so you took your time getting ready now.

You missed a lot of things about your old life, but the limited time and constant rushing and anxiety were not among them.

Your clothes were picked out with the anticipation of seeing your best friends again, your favorite overalls from the thrift store—which had been bought when you were still two sizes too small for them, and had been baggy on you until last year, but they were such a steal your mother refused to let you put them back—and a yellow shirt to match your ratty, yellow converse. They had been washed so many times they were more brown than yellow, but it didn’t matter much.

This outfit was the old you, and it brought up feelings inside you that nothing in figure eight could change. You wore it because you wouldn’t look any different to your friends in this outfit, and for maybe a few hours, you wouldn’t be the girl in the fancy house with the country club membership anymore.

“You look nice, sweetie,” your mom says, when you head downstairs. She’s drinking her coffee at the table, your step-dad nowhere to be found. It’s eleven in the morning and she’s just woken up too, in her robe and slippers, and you smile, watching her more relaxed than you’ve seen in years.

You swing by her side of the table to give her a kiss, and steal a piece of toast from her plate. You’re relieved she doesn’t mention your clothes, not when she keeps offering to take you shopping with Blake’s money, which you keep refusing, but is getting more tempting every time you step in a puddle in these shoes.

“Thanks mom, I’m going to see the boys and Kie, I’ll be back later, don’t wait up!” and with that you’re gone, before you can discern the disapproving look in her eyes.

Your junky old car, older than you by several years and still somehow the nicest thing you own—used to own, a voice chirps in the back of your head—is hidden around several fancy cars in the driveway. It’s intentional, you’re sure, and likely your mother’s doing. Nothing embarrassed her more than you handing out constant reminders of your old life to everyone around you.

And then you’re on the way to the Chateau, windows down and no music, since there was no way to connect your phone and the radio was busted by Pope a year ago, who claims he was trying to fix it.

But it’s what happens when you get there that embarasses you the most—no one’s there, and no one will answer your call. You wait around for a half hour, trying to see if they come back, but they don’t.

And that’s when it hits you. They were off on their adventures, and you weren’t just down the street anymore, which meant you weren’t invited. You get back in your car and slam the door, humiliated, tears falling down your face and probably ruining the makeup you had done, stupidly, this morning, because you wanted to look nice for them, like your old self for them. You don’t realize until later, after you were done crying, and seen Rafe again, that your friends didn’t want to bother you while you were adjusting to your new life.

You feel betrayed, and the words that John had told you rattle through your head, because he was wrong. Everything had changed, and nothing would be the same.

You take off, heading back home. There’s a big storm brewing and your Accord gets dramatic in the rain. It’s not until you cross the border back into figure eight that you realize two things. One, that you had just thought of your new house as home for the first time. And two, that you had never felt more alone.

There’s not much to do about either of these feelings, besides stopping for the biggest bowl of ice cream you can reasonably carry back home, and eating it in your room, crying and watching You’ve Got Mail for the hundredth time.

So that’s what you do, pulling into the ice cream shop closest to home. Your car also doesn’t have the greatest functioning air conditioner, and you don’t need any more questionable stains in your seats, considering how many times JJ had borrowed it and returned it, promising you it’s nothing and that that spot in the back seat was always there!

In line, tapping your foot, calling your mom’s cell. Your eyes are puffy and your nose is red from crying. She’s not answering, but the unspoken rule of your little family is to always, always call when you’re getting ice cream in case the other wants something. You’ve only been gone something like two hours, and you can’t imagine what she’s doing that she can’t answer your phone. You dial Blake’s number, hoping he answers instead, and while it’s ringing you realize it’s your turn to order. You haven’t even looked at the menu yet.

You turn to the people behind you, telling them they can go in front, but when you look up from your phone, you almost drop it.

Of course it’s Rafe Cameron behind you. Of course. Who else would it be? Who else would keep catching you at your lowest moments? He’s with a little girl, who can’t be older than four or five, with dark hair and glasses, holding his hand patiently while staring up at you, while you stare at him and he stares back.

“Rafe, she said we can go in front,” she says, tugging on the hand she’s holding.

“Yeah, Wheeze, I heard. Let’s go order and then thank this nice girl for letting us go ahead, right?” The little girl nods, and follows him up to order. Rafe looks back at you but then your step-dad answers, so you turn away, cheeks heating up. You don’t want him to see.

“Hi, what’s going on?” you hear his voice through the phone, sort of staticky and jumbled.

“Hi, Blake, I just wanted to ask if you and mom wanted ice cream? I’m at the place… yeah, the one near the house.”

“Oh, yes, let me ask her, one second-” You hear him put the phone down, or cover the mic, and then, “Honey! Kiddo’s asking if you want ice cream.”

You feel yourself soften a little bit at the nickname. And then you hear your mom and Blake talking back and forth, for what feels like ages. The girl behind the counter looks at you with a glare and you try to look back at her with an apologetic smile, but you’re a little fed-up from the emotional turmoil you’ve just endured.

“Hi, sweetie, I’m okay, I had some at the club with lunch and twice in a day is just not a good idea-”

“Just get it, who cares? We can have it later tonight too-”

“What if the power goes out? It’ll melt, and then it’s just a waste of money-” Crap. You hadn’t thought of that.

“We have generators for that.” Blake picks up the phone again. “Hey, kiddo, get your mom her usual and make sure you use the card I gave you, okay?”

You hang up the phone, smiling, and then order. It feels weird, being oddly comforted by someone other than your mom or your friends for once. In your distraction, you don’t see Rafe and the little girl hovering near the freezer window that showcases all the ice cream they offer. When you’re reaching for the shiny black Amex, you hear him again.

“I got it, kid,” Rafe says, pressing his matching card against the reader and pushing your wrist down and away. He does it so easily, without trying, just like he did in the country club. You look up at him stupidly, brain not registering what he just did and why he did it, and you don’t move for a moment. You don’t move until he leans down a little, close enough to smell that enticing cologne again but not nearly close enough.

“I think the words you’re looking for are ‘thank you’. And you should probably get out of the way.” You blink back up at him, and he’s smirking again. You feel kind of stupid, the way he’s talking to you, but you also don’t mind as much as you thought you would. The girl behind the counter yells out Next! and that’s when Rafe takes you by the arm, just above where he had bruised you, and moves you away himself.

“You okay, kid?” he asks, and you feel yourself melt like ice cream left in your car for too long. You don’t know if he really means it, or if he really cares, but you do know Rafe Cameron needs to stop talking to you like he likes you, or you’re going to be in trouble.

“Fine, yeah. Thanks, uh, thanks for the ice cream.” You’re still blinking slowly, stupidly, stuck in a daze. You should really get it together around him. It’s a little pathetic if a strong grip and a couple of nice actions gets you acting like this. That’s a problem for another day right now.

“Is she okay, Rafe?” the little girl asks quietly from beside him.

“No idea, Wheezie. Why don’t you sit and eat your ice cream?” he replies, and she sits down a few tables away, beginning to shovel chocolate ice cream with a tiny wooden spoon.

“Hey,” he says, and you begin to snap out of it. It’s raining outside now. You hear the pitter-patter of the drops on the roof. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yes. I am. I just had a bad morning. Sorry.” But you don’t know what you’re apologizing for.

“Well, are you gonna talk about it and shit? ‘Cause I don’t know you that well yet but you’re kinda freaking me out right now.”

“I-I…I just-”

“You, you, you just?” he mocks, and then when tears fill your pretty eyes and he sees one slip down your face, his own eyes panic briefly. “Hey, hey, I was just joking, kid-” He pulls out a colorful chair for you, and sits you down next to Wheezie, who is still eating ice cream at an alarming rate. Your ice cream is ready at the counter, and he brings it down next to you, holding his own strawberry cone in his hand.

“Hold this for me Wheeze,” he says, not really asking, and the little girl shakes her head right away.

“How’m I gonna eat mine then?”

“Wheezie,” Rafe says, in a voice that you haven’t heard him use before—and then you realize how stupid you sound. You’ve talked with him twice, you don’t know anything about the voices he uses or how he sounds when he’s talking to this girl who can only be his little sister.

“Can I have some?” Wheezie propositions back, and Rafe nods. “Okay!” she says, taking a bite of the scoop with her front teeth.

“So, y’gonna tell me what’s going on or am I gonna have to guess everything?”

“My friends, I just keep missing them, or they keep missing me, maybe. I just wanted to see them. It’s really lonely here, that’s all.” You’re staring into his eyes, his really, really blue eyes that are currently a little alarmed and concerned, and the fact that they’re that way for you is making you a little dizzy.

“Yeah, I get that. Sorry, kid, that’s the lay of the land, right? Not a Pogue anymore, are you?”

“I don’t know what I am.” You feel silly and embarrassed for pouring your heart out over ice cream with Rafe Cameron. He doesn’t know you, and he never will.

“Well, right now you have a choice. You can sit here and eat ice cream with us, or you can go home and cry about it alone. But if you choose the second one, Richards and Anna will see you, or hear you, and ask about it. And I’m not gonna keep asking if you don’t wanna talk. So pick one before this shi-stuff melts, okay?”

You nod dumbly again. You’d like to turn your brain off and let Rafe decide for you.

“I need a spoon.” He smiles, not smirks, for a second, before getting up to get you a spoon.

A few things float through your mind while you eat ice cream with the Camerons. First, Rafe remembers your mom’s name. Second, Rafe doesn’t swear in front of his kid sister. And third, and most important of all, Rafe Cameron cares about you.

“That’s a lot of ice cream,” Wheeze, or rather—as you’ve just learned—Wheezie, comments.

“I was feeling really sad,” you reply, shoving another spoonful into your mouth, watching the little girl eye your peanut and chocolate ice cream inquisitively. “You’ll understand someday.”

“Boy problems?” she asks, and you can’t help but crack a smile. Rafe looks up from his phone momentarily

“Not really, but a good guess. This would also apply to that situation.”

“My sister’s always got boy problems.”

“Really?” you ask, and then look up Rafe. “You have another sister?”

“Yes,” he says, in between licks of strawberry ice cream. You should really look away when he does that, because your heart rate is picking up. “And she’s even more annoying than this one.”

You laugh while Wheezie frowns.

“If I’m so annoying, why do you always take me for ice cream, huh?”

“She’s got you there, Rafe,” and you resist the urge to look at him, even when you can feel his eyes on you.

“Because you wouldn’t stop asking, dork, that’s why.” Wheezie shrugs in reply.

“I’m not gonna finish all of this. You want some, Wheezie?” you ask, offering her your spoon. She looks back at you smiling, and then at Rafe for permission, who nods.

She digs into the pile left, while you finally give into the urge to look up at her brother again. He takes another lick of his ice cream and you look away within a second.

“Been eating that for a while, haven’t you, Rafe?”

“Yeah.”

Somewhere in between Wheezie eating so much of the ice cream so quickly that she gets a brain freeze, and Rafe finally tossing his half-eaten cone into the trash, it’s time to go home. And as much as you hate to admit it, you don’t want to leave. The rain is coming down hard outside, a preview of the impending hurricane.

“Drive here, kid?” he asks, as your feet hesitate by the door.

“No,” Wheezie answers, “I came here with you, dork.”

“Not talking to you, kid,” he replies, rustling the top of her hair with his hand, getting an ugh, Rafe, in response.

“Yeah. Yes, I drove here. But my car doesn’t do so good in the rain.”

“Huh?” he questions.

“It’s old, okay. Junky. The AC is broken. And the radio. Sometimes she just stops, y’know?” You gesture to your blue car parked out front, the rusty, tiny sedan two spots down from his shiny truck.

“No, I don’t know. Richards lets you drive around in that thing?”

“She.”

“It’s a car. Barely, at that.”

“She has a name, okay. HoHo. That’s her name.”

“Alright, well, you’re gonna have to ditch the hoe, because I can’t let you drive home in a hurricane in… that.” You turn to glare at him. “Her, sorry.”

That’s how you end up soaking wet in the passenger seat of Rafe’s truck, Wheezie secured in her booster seat and Rafe even wetter than you are. He drops you home and says the two of you can go pick up your car tomorrow—if it’s still there, he adds at the end, leaning over you again to open your door. You stare at him dumbly again, which has now become a bad habit, and it’s not until Wheezie says you’re getting her wet in the back that you finally climb out and close the door. You stand behind the front door with your mom’s melted ice cream in one hand, and your phone with Rafe’s contact saved in the other, wondering what exactly just happened.

౨ৎ

The next few weeks pass through as quickly as they came. Your car—to your chagrin and your mother’s joy—does not survive the hurricane. Blake gives you a fancy, luxury car to drive around in that he just had laying around, which you don’t believe for one second. But, your mom is pleased when you actually start driving it, and you can actually listen to music from your phone and enjoy air conditioning and the most luxurious of luxuries—a backup camera.

The night of the ice cream shop incident, Rafe texts you. You were completely ready to wallow in bed, waiting for the text from him that never comes, drowning your sorrow in more ice cream, but he does text you. First and right away.

R: Is it wrong if I hope hoho drowns tonight?

that’s so mean. she never did anything to you.

R: She’s kinda ugly. And what was that about no ac?

so she deserves death????

R: The impound lot at the very least

if she dies, it’ll be because YOU manifested it

R: Never thought I’d believe in that manifesting shit, but here we are

did Wheezie eat dinner after how much ice cream you let her inhale?

R: No.

R: Ur fault. You gave her yours

you gave her yours too

and btw, I offered her a bite. she ate the rest. not my fault

R: She’s five, genius

R: I’ll come around noon tomorrow. Sleep tight kid

౨ৎ

Somewhere in between picking up your car—which entailed no less than stopping for lunch, even more ice cream that you can’t stand to watch him eat, and driving through town to see how bad the damage from hurricane Agatha was, and altogether three hours together ending with a wet, heated kiss in his truck with the windows fogged up—and today, you’ve been with Rafe more times than you can count.

And you try hard to suppress the thought that it’s just because he’s available, that the availability is the reason for your attraction. And then you catch yourself trying to justify why you want to see Rafe so much, this guy that you had just been assuming was bad because your friends told you he was bad, without much in the way of an explanation.

But Rafe is the furthest thing from bad. He’s so sweet to you it makes you delirious. He picks you up all the time, even when you tell him you’re just at home, and your car is right there. He pays for everything, he opens every door, the gentle but teasing way he is with Wheezie makes you even more head over heels.

But most important of all, he calls you first. He texts you first. He makes you feel wanted, and you definitely, definitely, want him, so you don’t think twice before saying yes to accompanying him to Midsummers.

You actually don’t know what it really is, besides for a big party. It was always one of the worst nights at the hospital—litters of teens with alcohol poisoning and from car accidents— so your mom would be working. When you turned eighteen, your mom paid for classes to become a junior nurse, and so busy nights like the one of Midsummers usually was, you would get called in too. So before this week, you’d never spent Midsummers doing anything other than cleaning wounds and fetching suture kits.

You tell Rafe this and he looks at you strangely, another of his looks you hadn’t seen before, with furrowed brows, and you flush and apologize, regretting even opening your mouth.

You know you’re deeper than you thought when he takes your head between his hands and kisses you—messy, with tongue and spit left glimmering over your mouth, so much so that he wipes the corner of your mouth with his thumb when he’s done.

“Go get yourself a pretty dress, and we’ll have fun, yeah?” You nod stupidly again, the way you’re prone to doing around him. He must have realized you get a kick out being told what to do by him, what to worry about and what to focus on.

You finally take your mom up on the offer to go shopping. Her and your step-dad are going to this thing anyways, but you can tell she wasn’t completely sure you’d go to something so Kook-y, maybe not just yet, and she doesn’t want to push it since your mood finally seems to have picked up. But then you tell her Rafe asked you to go with him, and the two of you smile and jump around the living room, laughing like kids. She’s happy for you and you’re happy that the two of you are happy at the same time.

Rafe sends you money for a dress—enough money to pay for a month’s rent at your old place. Your mom says your step-dad insists on paying. You feel like things are coming together for the first time.

You wander the stores, trying on different dresses and feeling like a scene out of a movie until you finally find the perfect blue dress. Blue for Rafe’s eyes and his suit jacket, because you’re not embarrassed to admit to him that you want to match for Midsummers. It’s patterned with little flowers, ruffles and lace moving in the wind when you twirl, and for once, you stop feeling like you need to pick a side to be on—Pogue or Kook—and you decide just to be Rafe’s for now.

The night of the party, Rafe offers to pick you up, but you tell him you’ll come with your parents. They’re both wearing shades of peach and salmon, the three of you together look like you’re headed to a baby shower, which you and your mom laugh about in the car ride there.

You text Rafe to let him know you’re there, and tell your parents you’re going to walk around to find him. When you glance back, they’re talking with some of Blake’s friends, people he had invited to the wedding.

You see, what you can only think, is a glimpse of Pope, in his usual waiter get up, but he disappears before you can see where he was. His father is still there, though, and you make your way through the crowd to get near him.

“Hi, Mr. Heyward,” you say, smiling and unsure if he’ll recognize you. You don’t think he’s ever seen you in anything but your overalls or scrubs.

“How can I help yo-wait, is that you, well I’ll be damned. You’re blending right in, aren’t ya?”

“Well, it took long enough.” You suddenly feel embarrassed, because he knows the old you, the one who wouldn’t be here in a million years. “Do you know where Pope is? I thought I saw him, I just wanted to say hi.”

“He just went off that way, but if you see him, tell him I still need his help over here, just like I did before he walked away—”

“Can I help with anything?” you ask quickly, but he shakes his head and tells you the direction Pope went in.

You follow it generally, trying to see where he could have gone in such a short time. But then you see all of them, and you can’t stop your feet from running over. Kie, JJ, and Pope, all standing and talking about something, but you don’t really care about interrupting. Kie’s all dressed up too, and you suddenly don’t feel so embarrassed.

“You guys,” you feel yourself gushing. “It’s been so long,” and you go in for a hug with each of them.

“Wow, god, you look so pretty,” Kie says, and you hug her again. You don’t realize how much you missed her.

“You too, Kie,” your smile is so wide it starts to hurt. “Isn’t this so weird, all of us here at this party? Where’s John B?” you ask, looking around.

“So weird,” JJ says, and you notice the bruise around his right eye because he’s turning to look at Kie again.

“JJ, what the hell happened to your face?” JJ doesn’t answer, he actually doesn’t say anything at all, which should have been your first sign that something was wrong. You look at him quizzically, before turning to Pope.

“Pope, your dad’s looking for you, I just went over to say hi-”

“Oh crap,” he says, heading back in the direction you just came from. “Sorry, be right back.”

“W-what the hell is going on?” you question Kie and JJ, searching for any answer, desperately hoping that it isn’t we don’t wanna tell you. Your phone goes off, twice, and you pick it up. The look on your face must have been beyond palpable to your friends.

R🧸ྀི: Come inside the house

R🧸ྀི: Got a surprise for you

“I-I gotta go inside,” you say, looking at the confused faces of your friends.

“What’s inside? I thought-”

“No, nothing, I don’t know, Rafe just asked me to go inside, and I haven’t even seen him yet-”

“Rafe? What, Rafe Cameron?”

“Y-yeah?”

“What are you, with him, or something?” JJ asks, and you feel your heart fall into your stomach.

“I-I yeah, maybe. I’m here with him tonight, he-” Your phone goes off again. “I’m sorry, I have to go find him, but I’ll come find you guys right after, okay?”

You leave the two of them there, looking at each other confused, looking at you like they don’t recognize you. And it stings, for a moment, until you get inside the mansion and find Rafe hanging out by the entrance, nursing a glass of scotch and eyes lighting up when they see you.

Everything with him is like that scene from that movie. Lights go dim, you walk in slow-motion, the room goes quiet. He watches you walk up to him and his eyes take in everything—your pretty hair, your dolled up face, the way your dress moves when you walk, and most of all, that you’re here with him. He reaches his hand out to grab you by the waist to bring you in for a kiss. It’s not like the others, it’s chaste and soft and romantic.

“Hi,” you breathe out, resting your forehead against his.

“Hi, kid. You look fantastic,” and he presses another sweet kiss to your temple.

“We’re matching,” you say with a smile, taking in his blue suit jacket and the way you feel dizzy right now, and you feel his grip tighten around your waist.

“Yeah, we are. Now get in line with me, we’re walking out together.” Your eyes are big like coins, because you understood that you were coming here together, but this is his family’s big night, if everything your mom and Blake told you was to be taken seriously.

You don’t have time to say anything, because Rafe’s nice parents line up ahead of you, and his two sisters behind you. Wheezie tugs on your dress and you turn to greet her and Sarah quickly, because then the doors open and you’re walking out, following Rafe’s lead, lots and lots of eyes on you, but only one pair of blue ones you really care about.

You almost want to cry, the whole thing is so magical. You have a flute of champagne and a sip of Rafe’s scotch, and you are deliciously tipsy for the next two hours. Your parents come over to talk to you and Rafe, and you can see how happy your mom is in her eyes. You and Rafe dance until your feet hurt, and it’s only then, when he leaves your sight, that things seem to get back down to how they normally are.

You can’t find Wheezie’s parents or Sarah anywhere. The little girl spilled ice cream on her dress and is crying quietly, fat tears rolling down her chubby cheeks. You want to get her parents, because you think they can help, but you end up taking her to the bathroom yourself. With a damp paper towel, you wipe as much as you can, and you promise to get her another ice cream if she stops crying.

“It’s just a stain, honey, don’t worry.” You toss the dirty tissue and grab another one, wiping the tears and then letting her blow her nose. “It’ll come out when you wash it. And no one will notice because it’s so dark now, right?” She nods in agreement. “Do you wanna go find your big brother?” Another sad nod. “Let’s go honey,” and you take her hand and lead her back out.

You’re not entirely sure what you missed in the last fifteen minutes. Everyone’s gone quiet, staring at what you hope is a trick of your eyes—all of your friends running from the party, hooting and hollering. Kiara’s parents look hopelessly upset, Mr. Heyward downright disappointed, and your mom scanning the crowd, trying to see where you are, until she spots you and Wheezie.

Her and Mrs. Cameron come running over, and you instinctively flinch, thinking the giant headpiece she’s wearing will poke you. You hand off Wheezie and turn to look at your friends, and you think, for a second, they’re waiting for you. They are, you realize slowly, waiting for you.

And you almost take off right then and there, until you feel Rafe’s warm hand on your shoulder, and you look up to see him bleeding.

At that moment, you turn right back around and head inside to the nearest room, sitting Rafe down on the bed and scrambling to find something to clean his wound with, and something cold to help the swelling, and in your panic, you don’t realize you’re rambling.

“I mean, what the hell was all of that? I turn around for two seconds and everyone’s running from the party like there’s a fire, and destroying things and throwing punches, I mean, I get they hate the whole Kook thing, but it was never like this before, even when I didn’t know you yet, and I-” you drop the frozen bag of peas onto the floor in your sudden realization. “I just let them leave. They waited for me. I didn’t go with them.” Your eyes fill with years. That’s a betrayal, not all the stupid stuff you thought was happening before tonight. They waited for you, and you turned right back around to go inside with Rafe.

“Hey, hey hey,” Rafe says quietly, taking your head in his hands again. “Hey, it’s gonna be okay.”

“You’re bleeding, Rafe,” you say, voice trembling. Your tears are ruining your makeup.

“I’m gonna be fine. You know why?” he asks, and you feel more tears rush down. “Hey, hey, no crying.” Rafe wipes away the tears with his hand, then he brings his hands to your back and rubs soothingly. “You know why, kid?” “Why?” it comes out a whisper.

“Because you chose me. We’re gonna be fine, okay?”

The way he says it you believe him.

You spend the next two days at Tannyhill with Rafe, wearing nothing but his t-shirts and doing nothing but rolling around in bed. It’s been a month, maybe a little bit more, and you haven’t even had the talk yet—the sex talk. There’s no doubt in your mind that he’s not ready for it, but you’re not ready for it, not yet. You’re working on it. He doesn’t make it easy for you, either. You’ve spent hours now, making out in his lap, grinding against each other until you make a mess all over his shorts and his hair is sticking up in every direction, and working your way up to telling him what you want.

You’re almost there. You’re waiting for the perfect time. Which was almost right now.

“You like that? Shit-” he breathes into your ear, pressing a kiss to the tender skin of your neck right underneath. It makes you moan again, louder, until he clamps a hand—the one not three fingers deep inside your leaking pussy—over your mouth, barricading the noise from leaving. “Gotta be quiet, kid, you want the whole house hearin’ what a little slut you are?”

His blue eyes, lustful and blown, stare into your own. You shake your head softly underneath the tight grip of his palm. You’re always obedient with him, but he really likes you like this.

“Yeah? You gonna do whatever daddy tells you? Just so I keep my fingers in this tight pussy?” You nod compliantly, head falling back on to the pillow. His fingers are thick, and the cool of his ring rubs against your clit in the best way, in ways you didn’t even realize it could feel.

He keeps fucking three fingers in and out of you, moans muffled by his hand but not completely silenced. You must be making a mess, because it’s what he keeps talking about, rambling about your messy cunt, greedy and sucking him in, and how you’ve been cumming for him like a little princess for the last two days, but it’s never enough for you.

It’s when he removes his hand and kisses you hard instead, tongue deep inside you mouth, the metal of his chain dangling on your chin, and you feel the similarly cool metal of his ring on you, you finish again, exploding around your boyfriend’s fingers and moaning into his mouth. He hears you, repeating his name over and over again, not Rafe, but rather daddy, and he swallows your chants into his mouth. When you calm down, he makes a show of licking his fingers off while locking eyes, and then you get flustered and bury your head into his neck.

He laughs, because it’s so cute, but only for a minute. Then you two shower together and he makes another show, but this time out of you, kneeling on the floor of his tub while he paints your face with his cum, making sure to cover the necklace you’ve been wearing recently too, the silver, loopy little R hanging between your collarbone.

Then you get dressed—a little pink dress that’s been his favorite recently, with buttons down the front and a pretty bow where your tits sit— and the two of you have lunch with his family like nothing ever happened.

Rafe drops you back at home later that day, gives you a kiss where he grabs the back of your head to bring you in, and then waves bye to your parents as he unlatches the door for you, in his usual way.

౨ৎ

A week later, he does the same thing. Drops you off, drives away once you’re inside, and you’re starstruck walking back, so much so, you don’t realize there’s someone waiting for you.

It’s Kie, and Rafe’s sister, Sarah. You’re a little confused since you thought the two of them didn’t get

along, but they look like they’re fine now.

“Hey, listen, we need you to help us. Can you come down to the Chateau later tonight, after sunset?” Kie asks, and you must look as confused as you feel, because Sarah speaks right away, before you can get a word out.

“You cannot tell my brother. Promise us you won’t.”

“Why are you asking me that? Why can’t I tell him?” Sarah and Kie exchange a look, and it’s clear to you that you are missing several pieces of the puzzle. “Guys! Come on, you-you can’t expect me to just be on board with lying to my boyfriend and showing up to help you guys without knowing what it even is, right? What’s going on?”

“We will explain everything, just please promise us that you’ll come,” Kie implores and you nod hesitantly.

“And you won’t tell Rafe?” Sarah asks again.

“Come on. Pogues for life, right?” Kie says, and you get a flashback to your life two months

ago—doing anything for your friends and dreaming of how you’d end up with one of the boys someday. It all seems like a million years ago.

“Yes, yeah, yeah, I’ll be there. I won’t tell him.”

You guess that God was on your side today.

R🧸ྀི: Hey kid. Busy with my dad today. Dinner tomorrow okay?

sounds perfect!! don’t work too hard! i'm gonna watch a movie with my mom and blake and stay in tn

R🧸ྀི: You got mail again?

you know me so well

R🧸ྀི: Have fun princess.

You set down your phone on your dresser, feeling like you could throw up your dinner. It’s just starting to get dark outside, and you’ve just lied to Rafe for the first time since you’ve met him. It feels terrible, like something’s gnawing inside you, begging you to come clean and confess, or not to go out at all. You think about it for a moment, maybe if he knows you’re with some of your old friends, it won’t be like a real lie.

Then you remember your old friends are the ones who punched him. You tell your mom you’re going to Rafe’s, and then you get in your fancy car that Rafe helped you christen the other day—in the backseat, specifically—and drive to your old life.

You park next to the Twinkie and get out, stepping into a slush of mud. Your shoes are new, and were clean, and you cringe internally at how much you started caring about these things. You don’t want Rafe to see you with dirty shoes.

The boys and Kie are sitting on the logs near the fire pit. Sarah is sitting right next to John B, looking at him how you look at Rafe, and then you realize the magnitude of just how much you’ve missed.

“Hey,” Kie says, looking up first, smiling. “You came.”

“Yeah.” You’re at a loss for words. Everyone looks the same. Everything feels so different.

A part of you wants to sink down between Pope and JJ, crack a beer, and laugh at jokes you think you would still understand. Another part wants to get into the fancy car and drive to Tannyhill. You opt for neither, standing a few yards away and letting the light from the fire cast its hazy glow over you and all your old friends.

“Did you tell him?” Sarah asks. She means it well, not in a rude way, but that’s how you feel.

“No, no, I didn’t. He, he thinks I’m at home. With my mom and Blake.”

“Alright,” JJ says, tossing his empty beer can. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

“Listen,” John B says, getting up and sounding too sincere for your liking. “We all appreciate you coming. Because we need a favor from you, and it might not be easy.”

“I mean, I think it’s gonna be pretty easy. Unless Rafe is like, really, really crazy, like even crazier than we already know he is-” JJ says, but stops when Kie and Pope shake their heads. “What? She knows, she’s the one dating him.”

“Know what? I don’t even know what you want from me-”

“We need a distraction. For Rafe, okay?” John B starts.

“An hour, okay, that’s all we need, right guys?” Sarah asks, looking back at everyone. They nod, trying to convince you, except Jayj.

“Well, like, maybe a couple of hours. If he’s up to that, y’know, I don’t wanna assume shit ‘bout stamina and all that-”

“JJ,” Pope says, shoving the blond’s arm. “You’re not helping.”

“What?” you breathe out, even more confused than before. You start to get what they’re asking, you just don’t want to admit it.

“We need to distract Rafe, for an hour, or like two hours, and we figured you’re our best bet.” John B says, and you look at them with your mouth falling open a little.

“You want me to…sleep with my boyfriend, to distract him, so you guys can do something that you won’t tell me about?”

“Kind of, yeah. Pretty much.”

“And is, is this thing going to hurt him in the long run? Is he going to be upset? When he finds out what happened?”

“My Kook feelings radar is a little off, right now, but who knows, I mean hell, he might not ever find out,” JJ says, and you want to sit down, because your knees feel weak, but the ground is muddy and the logs are occupied. “If we do our job right, he won’t know for a long, long time, right guys?” A chorus of right, right rings around the fire.

“And you’re not gonna tell me what this is about at all?”

“Well, it might not be a good idea. Because, you’re dating him, and listen, we just need like an hour, and he never has to know you were a part of this, okay? I will never tell him, none of us will,” Sarah says, and you do believe her. But you can’t believe that they’re asking you to do this.

“And if he finds out, and he breaks up with me, then what?”

“Yeah, I, uh, knew this was a bad idea. She’s not gonna do it, guys, so let’s just reformulate-”

“Oh, you knew I was gonna say no, JJ? Lying to my boyfriend? For the people who hurt him?”

“He hurt us too, y’know,” Pope says, and you feel your heart begin to race.

“No, I don’t know, because no one tells me anything! No one answers their phone and no one’s here when I drive down. Kie, you live two streets away from me now. The first time I saw you all month was at Midsummers and then, today. Asking me to come here to lie to Rafe, to sleep with him to distract him.”

“No, no, we shouldn’t have asked you, because I knew you would say no, I told them-” and you can’t believe the words coming from your friend's mouth. “Look at you, you went total Kook on us.”

And then you feel like they’re taking it all in. The R around your neck, the jewelry that sparkles in the light of the fire, all yellow citrine, for Rafe’s birth month. The pink dress that’s his favorite—you put it on this morning in case you ended up back at Tannyhill tonight. And worst of all, his white button up hanging from your shoulders, smelling like ocean and sandalwood and Rafe Cameron.

“It’s like you belong to him now.” You feel a tear sliding down, but you wipe it away.

“Maybe that’s because he was actually there for me, when I needed it. And I get it, maybe I should have tried harder. But you guys should have too.”

The group of you stand there in silence for a moment. Your phone goes off. You know it’s Rafe. They know it is too. It starts with Kie, and then a course of apologies from everyone. John B wipes away your tears like nothing has changed. JJ scratches his head, and then hugs you tighter than he ever has before. Pope tells you how much he’s missed you, how he had to start bandaging wounds in your absence.

“I’ll distract him. An hour, that’s all you get. I’m not sleeping with him because you guys want me to, okay? So if he leaves, he leaves.”

You take off for Tannyhill, leaving your old life behind and risking your new one all at once.

౨ৎ

Rafe’s phone goes off again, and he lets out a short, tight breath.

Princess: are you still busy at home? i need you

Princess: please rafey

“I’ll be back,” he tells Ward, and before he can even respond, he’s out of the room, calling you. The line rings twice, and then you answer.

“Rafey?” you sound quiet, like you’ve been crying.

“Hey, hey kid. What’s going on? I told you I was working tonight,” and then he runs a hand through his hair, because he knows he’s fucked, if you’re crying and you need him, then he’s going.

“I know, Rafe, I just really need you, I had a really bad night-” “Woah, wait, I thought you were just with your parents?”

“I was, it just got really bad, I-I’m outside Tannyhill because I had to leave, and then I got lost and I was scared so I just came straight here.”

“Lost? Jeez, kid, it’s, like, down the street.”

“But I didn’t wanna bother you, ‘cause you were busy-” and then he hears a hiccup, and then a sob.

“Okay, okay, stay there, I’m gonna come get you,” and he hangs up the call. He darts outside, spotting your navy car and you inside, still in the same clothes from this morning, just wearing his shirt over it, like a jacket. He gets close and you climb out of the car yourself, jumping into his arms and burying your face into his neck, like you always do when you get like this. He can feel the way your body shakes under his arms, the wetness of your tears on his black polo.

“Okay, it’s okay now, come on, let’s go inside.” You make it up the stairs to his bedroom, when Rafe guides you inside and pulls his blinds, so no one peeks inside.

He sits you up on the edge of his bed, squatting before you, hands in yours, arms resting on your knees.

“You gonna tell me what happened?” You shake your head, another tear falling. You wish you could say you were pretending, but the tears find their own way when you think about the encounter you just had. You’re lying when you tell him it’s between you and your parents, but his reaction makes you regret it instantly. “Did they say somethin’ to you? Did they try something? I’ll go over there and sort it all out, okay, kid, don’t worry about a thing.” He stands up, running another hand through his messy hair, letting it fall in the moppy way it always does, over his forehead. “Stay here, okay, princess, I’ll be back.”

Then you realize he’s gonna go over there and talk to your perfectly happy, clueless parents, so you stand up and turn him back around.

“No, no, Rafe, don’t leave,” and then you melt into a hug, taking in everything about it. Rafe rests his chin on the top of your head, his arms tight around your back. He smells so good, and the way he’s taking care of you makes you realize a couple things. “Will you just…make me forget?”

Your boyfriend looks down at you, and you don’t shy away from his gaze like you often, when you get flustered.

“Make you forget?” he questions.

“I just don’t wanna think about anything else,” you start, undoing the bow of your dress, more cleavage revealing itself. “I just wanna think about you,” and then your fingers undo the buttons trailing down the front of your dress. It falls off your shoulders, and you stand before him, naked, certainly not for the first time but what feels like the most intimate it’s ever been.

There’s a pretty lingerie set hidden in the back of your closet, what you had actually put aside for this moment, but you had no time to run home and get it, so you opted for the next best thing, taking your bra and panties off in the car ride here, shoving them into your purse, and hoping that Rafe was as tempted as you were.

“Just about me?” he questions, and you take his hand into yours, leaning in to press a soft kiss against his lips.

“Just you, Rafe. I’m ready, Rafey, I want you to fuck me,” and it seems like that’s all it takes. Rafe crushes his lips against yours, kissing you how he always does, tongue in your mouth and spit everywhere. He holds you by the back of your head and your hands run through his hair. You want him closer, even closer than he already is, than he possibly could be.

His hands leave your head and go down to your ass, grabbing both cheeks roughly and wrapping your legs around his waist. He drops you on his bed, head hitting the pillow, and you pull away for a second, to catch your breath. Rafe doesn’t let it happen, gripping your cheeks between his hand and bringing you back in for another kiss. You’re naked, and he’s still completely dressed, but you don’t miss the obvious way his hardened dick presses against your bare cunt.

You can’t breathe, and all your senses are overpowered by Rafe, but you also don’t really care. You keep kissing, moaning into each other’s mouths and gripping hair and skin that’s sure to leave a bruise tomorrow, until you feel him finally pull away for a second. You catch your breath, open-mouthed and heaving, eyes locked.

“‘M only gonna ask this once, kid,” he breathes, leaving another hot kiss on your neck, which makes you spread your legs further open with instinct. “Y’sure you want this? ‘Cause there’s no going back.”

You nod in that way you always have with him, telling him everything with no words at all.

“That’s my girl,” he breathes against your neck, and you feel him bite down into the soft skin of the flesh there. You yell out, but it turns into a moan when Rafe licks his tongue over the wound. “That’s just so you can remember this night, okay baby?” You look back up at him, wet eyes, swollen lips, and flushed, sweaty skin.

“Thank you, daddy.” He smiles, because you’re in for it now.

“You’re welcome, kid. Shit,” he breathes out, “I knew you’d like it, little freak.” He starts with more hot kisses, all the way down your neck, down your sternum, and stopping to press a kiss to each side of your ribs, before continuing down to your stomach. You whine from your position below him, one huge hand holding your hip in place and the other tracing the pattern of the kisses down, until he finally reaches where you want him to be.

“Gotta be quiet, kid, everyone’s home. You gonna let them all hear how much of a whore you are for me? Huh?” he mocks, and you shake your head fervently. “Good girl. You’re being so good, you’re gonna get a treat, okay?” You nod stupidly.

His breath catches for a second, when he gets down to your glistening cunt. He looks up at you from his position there, your chest heaving, tits bouncing with how much you’re squirming, how much you want him to do something. He moves his hands, one resting on your breast, pinching the nipple with his finger, and the other running a line down your pussy. Your whole body twitches up when he runs the metal of his ring over your clit, because he knows you really like it.

“Rafe, please,” you cry, sounding stupid and fucked out, even though he hasn’t started yet. “Please, please,” and your hips jerk up. He pushes them down.

“Be patient, kid. Gotta admire this virgin pussy for the last time before I ruin it, ‘kay?” You feel your walls tighten at his words, and you hope he missed the way everything just clenched, but it’s Rafe, and he didn’t miss a thing. “Like that, huh? You like being my little slut?”

You shake your head, trying to deny it, but the damage is done.

Rafe dives in, and you let out a moan that you didn’t realize you were capable of producing. You clamp your own hand over your mouth, because you know he’ll stop if you get too loud. His tongue licks you up and down, and true to what you had always thought, he does know what he’s doing.

The hand pinching your nipples doesn’t relent, and the weight of his arm holds you down when you buck up as he pushes two fingers inside you, scissoring them to stretch your walls out. It hurts, in the best way, and before you know it, he’s added a third.

His mouth stays focused on your clit, and your legs tremble, even though it’s barely been a few minutes. It’s all of it, all at once. Being naked in Rafe’s bed, his hand groping your tits, the way he holds you down without trying, the smell of his cologne and his skin and his sweat, making you lightheaded.

His fingers push in and out, and when he hits that sweet spot inside you, the one your own fingers have never been able to reach but somehow, Rafe’s have become well acquainted with, you can’t help the noises you make.

You repeat his name over and over again, and you think you’ve felt the height of this pleasure, that nothing could surpass this feeling, until your stomach tightens in an entirely new way. Your fucked out brain gets it together for a minute, to feel the overwhelming, ecstatic pressure of Rafe’s tongue on your clit, spelling out his own name. Your stomach tightens, unbearably so, that coil winding up, but before he even finishes the F, it snaps all at once.

You let out a scream—which you think is so stupid of you. But it feels so good, there was no way around it. Rafe reacts instantly, grabbing your hand that’s pulling his hair and using it to snap over your mouth, all while he rides you through it.

His nose presses against your clit while he slides his fingers out, your pussy walls clamping around nothing, missing him already. He laps up the mess you just made with his tongue, the noise being so overwhelming, you want to scream again.

You use your other hand to yank his hair, pulling him up to look at you, because you know you want to see this. Rafe, your Rafe, your boyfriend, with blown, wide eyes and the entire lower half of his face glistening with your juices, with the mess you just made, and then you collapse back down onto the bed.

Your breathing is heavy. You aren’t sure it’ll ever go back to normal.

Rafe pulls his shirt off by grabbing it from the back, yanking it over his head. Your hand floats up to

touch his chest, to make sure he’s still real and not just a vivid sex dream, but he slaps it out of the way.

“What did I say, hm?” he asks, leaning over you. His face is just an inch too far to kiss. Your limbs feel numb, and you can’t pull him down yourself. You want to cry, because you want to kiss him so badly. “I said you had to be quiet, or everyone’s gonna know what a little whore you are.”

“I tried, daddy, I did-”

“I don’t think you tried at all, kid.”

“No, I did, I swear-”

“You’re lucky that I-” and before he finishes his sentence, you pull him down into another kiss. He tastes like you and scotch, and the combination is so intoxicating, you can’t pull away. “Hey, hey,” he breathes. “I’m not going anywhere, okay?” and the soothing way he says it, you believe him.

“I’m lucky that you what?” you ask, unbuckling his belt and snaking it off the loops.

“That I love you, and I’m not gonna punish you tonight for not listening to me.” You drop the belt over your stomach, the melt part hitting with a little clink. You look back up at him, your eyes wide, you imagine, your cheeks flushed.

“You love me?” you ask, quietly. You can barely hear yourself over the thud of your heart pounding in your chest.

“I do,” Rafe replies, running his hand to smooth over your hair, which you’re sure is a mess now. “Enough that I’m gonna fuck you now, but I had to say it first, because I’m gonna fuck you until you break.”

You’re speechless, watching Rafe unbutton his pants and kick them off, boxers going with them. He strokes himself once, twice, and you’re still staring up at his face, even though normally you would get distracted.

He looks up again.

“You ready, kid?”

“I love you, Rafey,” you say, twisting your hands around to the back of his neck, pushing him into yet another kiss. You can’t pull away, even if you want to, you want him so close that you forget everything else in the world for now. While you’re kissing, he lines himself up with your leaking pussy, which has probably ruined these sheets, and pushes in the tip.

You pull back from the kiss, just to moan, but Rafe silences you with his mouth again. He pushes in more, and more, until you’re sure he’s bottomed out. Your cunt is so, so stretched, you can’t fathom this is what you’ve been missing out on, and it feels so good, like nothing has ever felt before, not his fingers, not his tongue, not any other part of him.

“That’s halfway, kid, you doin’ okay?” and your eyes jolt up to his in a second.

“H-half?” you breathe out. “I can’t, I can’t take any more, s’not gonna fit Rafe, not gonna fit-”

“Hey,” he repeats, which always has that calming effect on you. “You let me worry about that, okay? Just relax this pussy f’me, okay?” and the way he says it, you do, because you have no other choice. He pushes in again, fast, hard, and then pulls all the way out. You’re too scared to look anywhere but his eyes, so you stay locked in on them, until he pushes all the way in again, and your eyes clasp shut.

“Oh, oh my god, Rafe-” And you don’t care who hears you this time. He pulls out again, just his lip still inside you.

“Look, princess, look down,” he urges, and you follow his instructions, because you always do. “Look where we’re connected, yeah?” He fucks in and out of you, slowly but then faster, and you do look, entranced at the way your pussy sucks him in, the way your cum is coating his dick, at the brutal pace he’s set.

You look until you can’t anymore, leaning back against the pillow and watching Rafe above you, his face twisted in pleasure, eyebrows furrowed, mouth panting. He buries his face into your neck, and you grip the top of his shoulders, nails digging in, because you just need to hold onto something.

He told the truth, you think, in your fucked out, blissful state, that he was going to fuck you like he hated you, battering into your sore pussy over and over again.

You repeat his name—daddy, not Rafe—until he shuts you up with a kiss, and he watches the strings of spit connecting your mouths when he pulls away.

“Just needed this dick, didn’ya princess? Just needed daddy to think for ya?” You moan in reply. “You got it then, kid, because m’never gonna stop fucking you. Y’never gonna think about anything else again.”

And then he finally does you in, because he presses down, right below your stomach, while he slams in, and you feel something inside you break, like a flood breaking through a dam. It washes out to every part of you, from your ears to your fingers to your toes. White hot pleasure runs its course through your body, cunt tightening and shaking, eyes rolling back, your spine arching forward. Through all of it, Rafe pins you down, and fucks you through it. And finally, deliriously, you open your fucked-out eyes, looking up at him.

“I love you, daddy,” and he cums before he can even pull out, messy rivulets shooting inside you, leaking out onto his expensive sheets. He moans into your neck, and his entire body slumps forward, and you giggle under the weight.

A few minutes pass by.

“Rafey, you’re gonna crush me,” you say quietly, sing-songy. You’re so happy, you’ve forgotten everything else that’s happened.

Rafe presses a kiss to your forehead and rolls off, slumping next to you. Your head lands on his chest not a second later, his arm around your shoulder and another kiss to your hair.

“Feel better, kid?”

“So much better, Rafey.”

You don’t know when you fall asleep, only that you woke up to the sound of your phone going on. You pick it up, trying to turn down the light so Rafe doesn’t wake up too. There’s one message.

JJ: I thought you said you weren’t gonna sleep with him?

౨ৎ

#eeeeeee!!!! thoughts????#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #outer banks #obx

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billybob598 · 9 months

Text

More Than You Know (Leah Williamson x Reader)

All right! So this is a F1 reader x Leah fic requested by anon. Again any feedback good or bad is welcomed! I'm sorry if there's lots of f1 talk and some don't get it. I have another f1 fic coming up but other than that nothing else so, if people want to start sending me requests, please do! I'll get more into that later. Anyways, enjoy!

Word Count: 2.1K (That's what Docs said anyways)

Set at Abu Dhabi GP, end of 2023

Thursday

“Hello everyone, and welcome to the final press conference of the 2023 Formula 1 season.” You fix your shirt as you settle into the seat. Max Verstappen, your teammate, on your left with Charles Leclerc beside him.

“Question for Y/N and Max, heading into the final race of the season the title battle is close between the two of you. What kind of mindset do you have for one of the most important races in your career?”

“To win,” Max says simply. All the reporters let out a laugh as you crack a smile.

“Y/N?” The guy who asked the question prompts you.

“Uh, well, I mean for sure to win is the goal but, trying to just stay calm and do what I’ve done for the last twenty-two races,” you explain. After a few more minutes of questions, they let you go. Walking through the paddock and into the Red Bull garage you can’t help but let your mind spiral. This was your first championship battle, this was Max’s third. You were only 22 years old, if you won on Sunday you’d be the youngest-ever F1 champion and the first-ever female champion. You knew you had to be a little lucky on race day, considering you sat five points behind Max.

Entering your driver room you’re met with your girlfriend, Leah Williamson.

“Hey babe, what are you doing now?” She asks you, watching as you pace back and forth across the room.

“Track walk, I think.”

“Okay, well I’m going to meet up with Alex in a couple of minutes so, I’ll see you later, yeah?” She presses a small kiss on your forehead.

“Okay, yeah, see you later,”

Friday

You loved racing around Yas Marina Circuit, it had just the right amount of technical corners and overtaking opportunities. You loved the lights and going underneath the hotel. Probably the worst part of it though, was the heat. Sitting in your car you feel like you’re going to die from the heat. Sweat just keeps pouring from every pore on your body, making your race suit damp. At the end of Free Practice 2 you were the fastest overall. This gives you a little bit of confidence, your race pace also seemed to be pretty strong so these were all good signs. Leah watches as you take your crash helmet and balaclava off, trying your best to fix your sweaty hair. You looked hot, and Leah was living for it.

“You’re drooling,” Alex, who happened to be right beside her, said. Leah shakes out of her trance enough to give Alex a light slap on the shoulder.

“Whatever mate, if you had a girlfriend as hot as mine you’d be drooling as well.”

A couple of hours later, after all the media was done and the sponsor dinner was finished, you and Leah finally were able to settle into bed. Leah’s arm draped over you and her head nuzzled into your neck. She was just about to doze off when you spoke very quietly into the darkness,

“Would you be mad at me if I didn’t win?” Of course, Leah knew you were nervous, who in their right mind wouldn’t be? But, for you to think that she would be angry with you if you finished second? That was terrible.

“Of course not, love, I’d be sad for you, sure, but mad? Never.” This seems to calm you down a bit, and soon enough you both are sleeping soundly.

Saturday

“Good luck kiss?” Your favourite blonde questions. It was a tradition in your relationship, whenever either of you were participating in a sporting event you had to make sure you kissed just before it started.

“Of course,” you say with a smile, not that she can see it. Your helmet already on with your visor up so she can see your eyes. Leah kisses where she imagines your lips are, you can’t help the dopey smile that comes across your face, the squint of your eyes making it obvious what you’re doing.

Leah watches on as your car pulls out of the garage and onto the track. After making it through both Q1 and Q2 easily now comes the biggest test, the top 10 shootout. Your banker lap for Q3 is solid, only six-hundredths of Max’s time and you know you can improve. As you cross the line to start your second flying lap you feel the adrenaline rush through your veins. Every turn of the steering wheel, every push of the pedals, and every G against your body feels just right. Heading into the final sector you know you’re going faster than your first lap. Crossing the line, your entire body relaxes as you hear your engineer over the radio,

“Okay mate, that’s P1 so far, P1 so far, but Max is yet to cross the line.” You wait anxiously for Max to finish his lap. Leah feels her heart sink as she sees Max’s name move above yours on the timing screen.

“For fuck’s sake, fuck this shit, honestly,” you say over the radio.

“It’s okay Y/N, points come tomorrow,” your engineer replies.

“You’re right, you’re right, let’s get them tomorrow.”

Leah gives you a hug when she finally sees you after all the media and post-qualifying traditions.

“You did great love, don’t be too hard on yourself,” she says sweetly. You sigh, knowing she is right.

“Mhm, I’m not that happy but I’ll get over it. I think right now all I wanna do is go back to the hotel and cuddle with you,” you mutter with a little pout. Leah finds this adorable. So, when you guys do get back to the hotel she cuddles with you until you fall asleep, only hours before one of the most important races of your life.

Sunday

When you wake up you feel the nerves settle inside of you. Leah tried her best to get you to eat something before your race. Abu Dhabi was a night race so, you still had the whole day ahead of you. After going through the pre-race meetings with your engineers you feel pretty confident in the strategy for today. As you walk around the grid with the music in your headphones blasting you see your girlfriend walking towards you. Slipping one side of your ear so you can hear, you give her a questioning look. She never usually comes onto the grid before races, why would she now?

“I just wanted to wish you good luck,” Leah says kindly, “I know you’re nervous, but don’t be, you’re gonna smash it out there.” Your heart melts at her consideration.

“Thanks Lee, I’ll do you proud I swear,” you say, looking at her with what can only be described as heart-eyes.

“You already have, more than you know,” she smiles at you, giving one last kiss on your lips before heading back to the garage.

A couple of minutes later, you’re sitting inside your car mentally preparing yourself for the race. The entire formation lap your mind is blank, trying your best to not overthink. As you park in your grid slot as close to a billion people watch with their breaths held.

“And it’s lights out and away we go for the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix!” Crofty exclaims into his microphone.

You get a good start drawing alongside Max heading into the first corner, but he pushes you wide. As the pair of you continue to the first of two long straights, you follow closely behind him gaining a slipstream. When you enter the braking zone you decide to go for a dive bomb, getting your elbows out a little to barge past your teammate and take the lead.

“She can’t fucking do that, mate. She pushed me off the track,” Max voices to GP.

“If Max has a problem with that, then he can cry in a crib, that was clean.”

As the race gets past halfway done, both you and Max had made pit stops, while also exchanging the lead of the race multiple times. Leah had about chewed her entire nail off watching. She was nervous as hell, she could feel something bad about to happen, she just knew it in her gut.

You once again closed up to the rear end of Max with DRS. As you got close enough to pass you slightly jerked out to the left before cutting back to the right, effectively dummying him. You were on the outside heading into the sweeping left-hander of Turn 9, you tried your best to give him space, but he completely misses the apex and rams into your front wheel/side of your car. Your neck whips to the side as you try to keep control of your car.

“What the fuck was that?! What a fucking idiot, I gave him shitloads of space! Is there any damage on the car?” You are pretty much yelling into the radio. The anger you’re feeling showing through your choice of words.

“So, major front wing damage we are going to have to box. Box, box.” Swearing under your breath you pull into the pit lane for new tyres and a new front wing. Stopping on your marks you sit there for what feels like forever before finally getting the green light and getting back on track. Leah knows you are fuming but she also knows that you’re very good at turning that anger into motivation. She readies herself for a wild end to the race.

“Okay, so the gap to Max is 30 seconds.”

“Just leave me alone, I know what to do,” you say sternly.

For the next 24 laps, you put in of the most impressive comebacks in F1 history. Closing the gap a little bit each lap. You fully catch up to him on the final lap of the race. The entire world sits on the edge of their seat as you stick right up to Max’s gearbox for the majority of the lap. Entering the final sector, you find the gap to stick your nose down. Making an unorthodox move down the inside into Turn 12. When it becomes clear that you stuck the move your side of the garage goes crazy. Leah screams, thinking it is too good to be true. As you head around the final corner, the Red Bull mechanics hang off the side of the fence cheering and yelling as you cross the finish line.

“She’s redefined motorsport as we know it, and as she crosses the line Y/N Y/L/N is CHAMPION OF THE WORLD!” Crofty shouts.

“AAAHHHH OH MY GODDDD! YESSS GUYS COME ON! I’M GONNA FUCKING CRY!” You scream over the radio.

“YOU” VE DONE IT MATE! YOU’VE DONE IT! GOOD LORD!” Your engineer screams back at you. You start to cry as you go around for your celebration lap. When you park in front of the number 1 sign you take a minute inside of your car to collect your thoughts. Finally, you get out and stand on top of the car, raising your arms in celebration. You jump down and start sprinting to your team. After receiving multiple hugs and slaps on the back, mixed with a varying range of screams and yells, you decide to look for your girlfriend. Looking around you spot your favourite person on Earth and make a beeline for her. She pulls you into a bone-crunching hug, tears streaming down her face.

“I’m so fucking proud of you, more than you know,” she says tearfully. You give her an award-winning smile before moving to take your helmet and balaclava off. You surprise Leah when you connect your lips in front of God knows how many cameras.

“I’m a World Champion Lee, a World Champion.”

“I know Y/N, I know,” she giggles at how excited you look. After completing the post-race interview you make your way to the podium.

“And your Abu Dhabi Grand Prix winner and 2023 World Champion, Y/N Y/L/N!”

The crowd and paddock below you roar as you make your way onto the podium, pumping your fists with joy. Stepping onto the top step of the podium, a sense of relief washes over you, everything you’d worked for this entire season, your entire life basically, had finally paid off. You take your cap off when your national anthem plays and begin to scan through the crowd until you meet blue ones. You give her a grin and blow her a kiss. She returns it. When you are finally handed your first-place trophy you raise it high with a little yell. After the rest of the podium is handed their trophies, you get to your favourite part, the champagne. Spraying it in every possible place, you can’t stop the stupid-looking smile from taking over your facial features. When the celebrations seem to die down a little you look over at Leah, mouthing,

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” she mouths back.

“More than you know.”

#leah williamson x reader #woso imagine #woso x reader #engwnt x reader #f1 reader x woso

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icallhimjoey · 13 days

Text

Reinvent Love

♥ ♥ Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Joe are treading new waters. You’re no longer flatmates, but still close. More than friends, but nothing defined. Nothing labeled. Determined to not lose what you have, though. But, can you?

CW / disclaimer: rpf, fem!reader, language, adult themes, jealousy, accusations, soft fluff, season 3 of my flatmate!joe

Author’s note: the first cracks; they're here - and, again, you don’t need to have read define close or explain us, but it’ll obviously give you backstory, which might help!

Wordcount: 3.6K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

It was silly. Joe was being silly.

He knew it, and felt so stupid for it. Like, in hindsight, the worrying felt so dumb. The constant milling shit over didn’t change anything, there was no real point to it. Although, maybe you being on his mind in this... new manner was what summoned you last night.

You just showed up, talking about a crazy day, no sad pouts, no needy touches. Just jittery movements and a lot to tell him.

Joe kind of sat back on his sofa, spread out and leaning into his left elbow and watched you pace around his lounge. Something about something a colleague had said that then turned out to be lies and you found out something by overhearing a phone call you weren’t meant to overhear – Joe was barely following along. Didn’t really try his best to, if he was honest.

He was moreso paying attention to what you were actually doing – were you even aware that you had started grabbing random things he had left lying around on his coffee table, on the kitchen island, on the counters, and one by one, put everything away where it was meant to go?

Joe pursed a smile as he realised you knew exactly where everything went. Why did that make his chest ache in the best of ways?

This new casual form of intimacy seemed so small, but Joe felt how it smothered that little grain of doubt that resided in his chest. That little grain that had convinced him that you were probably going to fall into a new routine with your new flatmate after he moved in and, then you would probably grow close to him and Joe knew how you... no.

No.

He couldn’t think that.

It wasn’t fair on you. He caught himself trying to finish the thought a lot, but he knew it wasn’t fair. Wasn’t true. He didn’t even fully believe it. It was this thing. Still, he also couldn’t help how it simultaneously made him grow a little more possessive and made him want to prepare for the worst.

But, she was here, he had to remind himself.

She’s here.

And she was wandering around his space, letting her train of thought flow freely from her brain into his living room and he used to witness this all the time when you lived together still. Joe realised he’d actually missed it a lot, and wasn’t that the whole point? That he got to miss you now?

God, Joe missed you a lot and you were right there and he could just burst at the seams at how fucking lucky he felt.

He was a just normal guy in a normal flat with a normal relationship– well, normalish relationship, anyway. Not that you had talked about anything yet. Of course you hadn’t. But it was pretty fucking obvious what this was. So he had started shrugging whenever someone would ask if you were actually together, which felt a lot better than the forever, “No, we’re flatmates, what are you talking about?” he used to throw at people, practically gaslighting them out of whatever they thought they’d witnessed between him and the girl that he used to live with.

It was working. The plan he had made, this vague idea of normalcy; it was working out the way he had wanted it to.

And yea, sure, you were getting a new flatmate and Joe had a difficult time not feeling some type of way about that, but, he had made the decision to move out and, look at you now.

“Do you think I can get a raise out of this? Or at least get a weird bonus, mid-term?”

Joe had a hard time not laughing at your question as he saw you had already mentally moved onto something else. You were stood in the middle of the room, both hands on your hips, eyes scanning the room. Everything tidy and organised.

“Joe, when did you last clean?”

Joe followed your gaze up into one of the corners of the ceiling.

“I cleaned today.” Joe said, knowing you’d likely not take it as an honest answer. You had lived together, remember? No fucking way was Joe ever going to feel the urge to maybe sometimes swipe a feather duster across the upper corners of his living room.

You shuddered at the thought of what resided behind his curtains there.

You sighed and tutted and turned back to Joe’s kitchen like you were going to start cleaning his fucking ceilings at half past ten at night.

“Hey, no. No, no. Stop. Will you come sit down a second? My god.” Joe huffed, feigning annoyance. When you turned on your heel and giggled as you scurried over, Joe let a laugh escape his throat just before you let yourself fall into the cushions next to him.

He hooked an arm around your neck to pull you in so he could press his nose into your cheek a second. You gladly let him, and when he held you close like that for longer than you initially thought he would, you suddenly realised you’d just been talking about yourself for twenty minutes straight.

Just barged in with unimportant thoughts on your mind that you just verbally vomited right into Joe’s space. You knew it was mostly nervous energy that was only there because your new flatmate picked up his keys earlier, which now meant there was every opportunity for someone to just... walk into your flat at any given time. That had unexpectedly brought on way more anxiety than you previously thought it would do.

Hence why you decided to just... escape it, and went over to Joe’s to spend the night there.

Joe was pressing his nose into your cheek and held you in place for a bit before he moved his head down, hiding into your neck a second.

“You okay?” you asked softly, head tilting down a bit.

“Mm, yea, fine.” Joe inhaled deeply, before pressing a few small kisses to the crook there and moving back to look at you the in eye. He unhooked his elbow from around your neck and placed two cupped hands on either side of your face, swiping bits of hair back in the process.

Joe was leant all the way back into the sofa, head squished in between two of the back cushions and you took a moment to look at each other. Joe studied your face and rubbed his thumbs across the apples of your cheeks until you grew shy.

“You look tired,” you softly said before Joe sat up a little and leant closer. It had you close your eyes just before scrunching up your nose as he kissed the very tip of it.

“I am tired.” He mused, copying your nose scrunch when you blinked your eyes open again, and Joe looked so soft. Sort of pleased with life, happy to be where he was and like he’d just had a really good productive day. He blinked slowly, eyes only half open, and looked sleepy enough to slip right into dreams the second his head would hit his pillow.

You loved him like this. His hands on you, all soft touches. Comfy and cosy and calm. Just you and him. No one else. No threat of someone randomly walking in.

This was perfect.

“Mmm, me too.” You smiled and let Joe grab one of your elbows to pull an arm across his stomach as he sat back again.

“I’m not surprised. You’ve just done a 5K as you tidied this room, I think.”

You huffed a laugh as you sank into Joe’s side, and then you sat like that in silence for a moment. No TV on. No phones in sight for some easy distraction. Just you and Joe and the view of his living room.

“Are you okay?” Joe suddenly asked, emphasis on the you, and you tried hiding the small, hitched intake of breath by quickly nodding and casually going, “Yea. Fine.”

You could feel how Joe tucked in his chin to look at you.

He waited. Wasn’t going to tell you, “No, be honest...”, but also wasn’t going to accept it and move on. It was still like that. He knew you were lying, and you knew he knew, no words shared at all.

So you sighed and took a second, and then said, “Josh picked up his key today.”

And you didn’t want to explain what that meant.

Didn’t want to tell Joe that, for a while, this existing-in-two-flats thing had just felt like a bit of a joke. Just the two of you playing and being silly about whatever you really were. You still sort of thought of him as a flatmate because he still came over all the time, and you went over to his all the time too. You existed in the same space almost just as much as before, sort of.

But now a new flatmate was actually moving in, and suddenly, it felt like reality had slapped you right across the cheek like it had done that day that Joe moved out.

You’d gotten to hide away for a lot of that.

And there was no real hiding this time around.

You couldn’t go home and pretend Joe was going to move back in eventually, because now Josh’s things were going to be all over the flat. Which was fine. Josh signed a lease. His things were allowed to be all over the place.

It was just... things were getting real now.

Shit was real.

“Which reminds me,” you suddenly piped up, pushing uncomfortable thoughts down, tucking those away for another time and place. “This is going to save you some money!”

You saw how Joe’s mouth slowly stretched into a smile as he watched how his own feet rubbed against yours. Then he caught himself and quickly furrowed his brow, saying, “No, I don’t think it works like that.”

You copied his expression, but were more confused than anything else.

“Of course it does. Josh signed the papers, he’s going to start paying rent now, you–”

“I said that I had taken care of things, didn’t I?” Joe interrupted you, fingers playing with the folds in your sleeve of the arm that rested over his stomach. “Can’t just not keep a promise like that.”

You blinked at him a second, then moved to sit up to stare at him harder. If both Joe and Josh paid rent, that basically meant that you... got to live for free for a while? That math wasn’t mathing. One plus one wasn’t equalling two here. You looked around Joe’s flat and tried to think of his own expenses, and... what the fuck was he doing?!

“Joe,”

“You’re not going to be able to talk me out of this.”

“Joe.”

Joe ignored you and faked a yawn, sped it up along with stretched out arms above his head and quickly said, “So tired. Bed?” before getting up and leaving you on his sofa as he left the room.

“You’re insane if you think I’m just going to accept that!” you called after him and heard him laugh from down the hall.

“Did you not just say you were after a weird mid-term bonus?”

And you hated how that made you smile. Made you punch one of the cushions and sink your teeth into your bottom lip begrudgingly as you forgot to breathe a second.

Joe smiled to himself too as he turned on the lights in his bathroom. It felt like he was winning a contest - there was no contest, no one to fight, not really, but, he was definitely winning.

“You coming?”

Breathe.

Calm down.

You could pretend to fight him on this once more in the morning.

Crawling into bed with Joe had its own little routine which was different from the one at yours. Different order of things, because the lay out of the flat was different.

Bathroom first. You brushed teeth together, always had to stop Joe when he washed his face too aggressively and then used your own moisturiser on him. “Just for your dry patches,” you’d always say, but would end up swiping delicate fingertips all over anyway. There’d be a snarky comment, of you using too much, of him feeling too greasy, of how he was going to stick to his pillow all night now, and then you’d always kiss him to shut him up before moving on to do your own skincare routine.

When you’d get into bed, Joe would already be in there, giving his phone a last once-over before he’d scoot down and get comfortable.

This time, however, when you walked into his bedroom, the lights were already off, and it looked like Joe was already falling asleep.

This soft man.

So sleepy.

He was all messy curls and bare arms, duvet tucked under them, curled up right in the middle of his bed. You slid in and cuddled up right behind him, hips against his bum, chest to his back.

You were right.

Joe was already falling asleep.

You pushed a leg in between his for warmth and snuck an arm around his front.

“You’re crazy,” you whispered into the skin of his shoulder which prompted Joe to grab hold of your hand and pull it into his chest so you were hugging him properly. The big spoon to his small one. Then he just hummed as you pressed a small kiss to his warm skin there.

“So crazy.” you nuzzled into his pillow, your nose rubbing his back as you did, and you felt how he ducked his head down to press a small kiss to your fingers.

You fell asleep warm, comfortable, and smiling.

You woke up in the same way.

Just on your stomach now, and with Joe’s heavy limbs slung over your body. When you turned over, it woke Joe up, and for five blissful early morning minutes, you tried crawling into each other’s skin as best you could. Breathed each other’s breath and tasted each other’s skin. Stroked hands underneath clothes and had fingers crawling into underwear, just to touch and to hold.

When you quietly asked if Joe wanted coffee, he groaned and told you to shut up. He was able to feel you giggle to that, and he could cry with how happy he felt in that moment. Why would you have to go and ruin it by getting up to go and make coffee?

“Five more minutes.”

“Mmm... it’s never just five.”

Joe sighed, “Just five.” speech slurring with early morning drowsiness and then burrowed himself into you even more.

And fine.

Joe could have five more minutes.

But then they easily turned into twenty, because they always did, and you had to eventually bribe Joe with breakfast for him to let you go so you could sit up.

“If you take a slow shower, I’ll have it ready when you finish.” You looked over your shoulder where Joe, still with his eyes closed, smiled widely. His nose was slightly red from pressing it into your skin, and his bedhead made you have to suppress a giggle that you hid by leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead before you got out.

Joe barely even felt that little grain of bad in his chest when he thought of how much he loved you.

Because he did.

Joe fucking loved you.

There was going to be a moment soon where he was just going to have to say it. It was going to spill out of him in some other way if he wouldn’t simply use the words, he just knew it.

Joe loved you as he watched through squinty eyes how you reached for a pair of white socks of his to borrow.

Loved you as he watched you pull one of his old sweaters over your head before you walked out, bare legs still on show.

Loved you when he stepped into his living room after his shower to the smell of burnt toast and scrambled eggs and coffee.

Loved you as he watched you step onto a chair in the corner of his room, wet dishcloth in hand to remove the strings of dust you had scolded him over the night before.

Loved you as he felt what the sight of your stretched body, your bare tighs, and the little peep of your bum did to him inside of his boxers.

Loved you as he groaned and let his head fall onto the counter, having to breathe through it, because you were just cleaning his living room, and not giving him a sensual striptease act or whatever.

Loved you as you looked back over your shoulder, raising your eyebrows in surprised confusion before accusingly asking, “Really, Joe? Cleaning?”

Loved you as he stutteringly defended the blood rush down south by saying, “You have no idea what you look like right now.” into his elbow where he had to hide his face for a second.

Loved you, loved you.

He was hardly able to deny any of it.

And he didn’t feel that he had to, either.

Because, you were there. In his flat. In his clothes. Cleaning his dusty ceiling corners. And wasn’t that just something he wanted to tell the whole fucking world about?

That small little green grain of doubt and worry and negativity dried out and got no sunshine to really grow into anything. Thank fuck.

He got to ignore it for a while.

Forgot about it entirely, and pretended it wasn’t even there for a bit.

It was easy.

Joe loved you.

He knew he did.

Would tell you soon.

Didn’t know how.

Or where.

But he was going to say it.

He was going to use his words because he was just a normal guy who loved a normal girl and you weren’t being weirdly secretive about what you got up to in private. At least, not how you used to be, anyway.

Joe loved you.

You brought Joe flowers and cleaned his ceiling and wore his clothes and cooked his breakfast.

Joe loved you, even though your new flatmate Josh turned out to be impossibly good-looking in addition to being incredibly kind as well, so Joe didn’t even get to have a real reason to dislike him at all, which seemed unfair, but, all right.

Joe loved you, even when suddenly two shiny black acoustic guitars appeared on your living room wall, because Josh worked in music, and wasn’t that just so cool?

Joe loved you, even though his very first thought after that was, well I know how to play guitar too, don’t I?! which you had never even mentioned before.

Joe loved you, even when he walked into your flat one evening and interrupted a dinner you were having with Josh and one of your friends and, look, Josh cooked for us, and for the first time ever, he felt uninvited and intruding.

Joe loved you, even when your friend jokingly said, “You’re over here at lot for someone that moved out.” right to his face, to which you then heartily laughed, because she was only joking, Joe, and then you didn’t say anything about how you were together, but, you were together... weren’t you?

Joe loved you, even when he stuck to the bit and handed you his flat key like he always did, expecting to find it in his coat pocket later, but then ended up finding both his pockets empty when he went home the next morning, which, yea actually, that made sense, because Josh lived there now, and it was a little weird to have a key still, wasn’t it?

Joe loved you, even when you had told him to come over on Friday evening because you’d had a shit day at work, and for the first time ever, he had to ring the doorbell to get inside.

Joe loved you, even when Josh was the one that answered the door, and Josh almost didn’t let him in, telling him, “Oh, she’s fallen asleep on the sofa, mate.” to which Joe just smiled as he stepped around him, because what the fuck did Josh even know about falling asleep on the sofa in this flat?

Joe loved you, even when he found you asleep on the sofa, curled up under a blanket he’d never seen before, with an empty pizza box bar some crusts still on the coffee table, and you never ate a whole pizza yourself, so that was obviously shared with someone else.

Joe loved you.

He knew he did.

But there was a playstation besides the TV now, and a cool record player on the side, pile of vinyl next to it, and, God.

Joe fucking hated this.

Whatever was inside of Joe’s chest, that thing he didn’t even want in there, was growing.

Was getting fed without Joe even fully realising he was feeding it.

He hated those guitars. He hated that he no longer had a key. He hated that stupid blanket. And he hated that empty pizza box.

Still, he sat down beside you and placed your socked feet onto his lap. Watched the last scenes of whatever film you’d put on as he slowly kneaded a foot and let you sleep, and he tried his best to not get bitten. To not let it sink its teeth in. To not let it hurt.

It was silly.

Joe was being silly.

Rational thought saved him.

Rational thought told him he still loved you.

And he hoped rational thought was going to be enough.

---

The Taglisted

@ali-in-w0nderland, @alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson,

@choke-me-eddie, @demonsanddemogorgons, @did-it-work, @dirtyeddietini, @djoseph-quinn,

@dolcevit4, @eddies-puppet, @emma-munson, @emotionaldreamer, @everythinghasafacee,

@figmentofquinn, @ghost-proofbaby, @ghostinthebackofyourhead, @hanahkatexo, @harringtonfan4,

@hazelenys, @jewellethief, @joesquinns, @keikoraven, @kennedy-brooke,

@lovelyblueness, @manda-panda-monium, @mandyjo8719, @mexicanfolklore, @munsonluvrr,

@munson-mjstan, @nadixq, @nglharry, @notverywise, @pepperstories,

@phyllosilicate-s, @royale1803, @sherrylyn628, @sidthedollface2, @solzi1420,

@songforeddiemunson, @sweetberry47, @take-everything-you-can, @thebellenouvelle, @tlclick73,

@werepartnersnow, @winterwakesthewolf, @witchwolflea, @yelyahcardella, @yunirgo

taglist currently full, sorry

#Joseph Quinn #Joe Quinn #Joseph Quinn x You #Joe Quinn x You #Joseph Quinn x Reader #Joe Quinn x Reader #Joe Quinn Fanfic #Joe Quinn fanfiction #Joseph Quinn Fanfic #Joseph Quinn Fanfiction #joe quinn x y/n #joseph quinn x y/n #icallhimjoey #define close #explain us #reinvent love

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theemporium · 3 months

Note

Mayve something cute wjere butterfly doesn't feel well but tries to hide it from Carlos to not worry him? And poor boy gets all worried.

enjoy some wee pre-marriage carlos and butterfly! thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

As it would turn out, hiding how you felt from your boyfriend wasn’t easy when you worked for the same team.

Usually, it was a blessing. When you started working full-time with Ferrari and travelling the world with them, any hope of having a normal relationship went out the window with your weird hours and constant travelling around the world.

But then Carlos happened. And it was like the universe worked in some weird ways to give you the most perfect person who would understand your schedule because his was even more hectic.

Yet, it only made it worse in moments like this. Carlos was a driver, and not just a driver but also for one of the top teams. He couldn’t afford to get sick, not when they were actually having a good season for once. You couldn’t afford to be the one to get him sick even if every part of you wanted to just be held by him, you couldn’t let yourself be selfish.

When you flew in with him, it was nothing more than a headache you thought would pass with time and a nap. But when you woke up from the nap a few hours later feeling like you had been hit by a bus, you knew exactly how shit you were going to feel for the next few days and you knew you needed to keep him away from you.

However, Carlos was a smart man. A beautiful, stubborn, smart man who worked out pretty fast that you were ignoring him when you didn’t come to his room on Wednesday night. And again when you went out of your way to rush off in between media duties. And again when you avoided his message to meet in his driver room in between conferences.

But you couldn’t afford to get him sick. And you couldn’t afford for him to know you were sick, so you trusted only the people you knew wouldn’t tell him (aka just yourself).

Although, what you failed to think about was the fact that your colleagues wouldn’t hesitate to slip where you were hiding when your boyfriend asked.

“You’re ignoring me.”

Your head snapped up at his voice, a small wince leaving your lips from the sudden movement. You sat up a little, though the little corner in the Ferrari hospitality wasn’t doing much when you were sitting on the floor with your laptop balanced on your lap.

“I’m not,” you responded weakly, only for Carlos to give you a look.

He opened his mouth like he was about to say something else, only to pause when he really took you in. The pale expression, the dark circles under your eyes, the red tip of your nose and chapped lips. You barely had a chance to react before he was kneeling in front of you, your face engulfed by his large hands as he frowned.

“Mi mariposa,” he murmured with a sad look on his face. “Why did you not tell me you were sick?”

“Because you can’t be near me right now,” you said as your fingers wrapped around his wrist, attempting to pull him away from you but it was useless. “Carlos, you can’t afford to get sick. Racing is your life and if you couldn’t do it because I got you sick—”

“Mi amor,” he interrupted, though his voice was soft and soothing as his thumbs traced over the apples of your cheek. “Racing is my life but you are my everything. Let me take care of you.”

“Carlos,” you said with a sigh, but he cracked a smile when he knew your resolve was breaking.

“C’mon,” he ushered as he reached for your laptop in one hand and held out the other for you to reach for. “I promise not to kiss you but at least rest in my room whilst I have a debrief with the team. I won’t let my girl sit on the floor like this.”

Your cheeks burned but you nodded, burying your face against his bicep when he chuckled a little.

“Thank you,” you murmured softly.

“Always, mi mariposa, always.”

#carlos sainz #formula one #f1 #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x y/n #carlos sainz fic #carlos sainz one shot #formula one x reader #formula one x you #formula one x y/n #formula one fic #formula one one shot #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 fic #f1 one shot

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izzywantscheesecake · 3 months

Note

leo valdez x female reader!! dating headcanons *blows kiss*

Dating Leo Valdez Headcanons!

Pairing: Leo Valdez x Fem!Reader Fandom: Camp Half-Blood Chronicles/Heroes of Olympus Quick Synopsis: Just some paragraphs headcanons on how you and Leo would meet/what dating him would be like. Tags: Use of Y/N, Fluff, no specific physical description of the reader (other than the fact they're female coded), Comfort

HOW YOU TWO WOULD MEET I imagine Leo to be someone who looks for a person he's able to have a lot of common ground with in a relationship. Of course, he's able to crack jokes (even the not so funny ones) around practically everyone, but there's a difference between small banter and just full on being able to vibe with someone. I think he'd be very attracted to someone interested in the arts, or someone who likes to make their own things as a mean of self expression in general. We all know how Leo is in terms of self confidence - he'd like a person who is unapologetically them, proud of their art and self expression and someone who has enough emotional awareness to give him reassurance in a relationship when they can sense he needs it. You guys would probably first meet at some type of event or workshop, or if you're a camper, probably at the dining pavilion when he sees you and has to do a double take because "who is that cool girl I've never seen before?" he'd muster enough confidence to come up and tell you a corny joke, stumbling on his words, which makes you laugh.

"Hey, can I ask you something?"

You looked up from your feet, now practically face to face with this guy you'd never seen before. His clothes were wrecked with dirt and debris, so were his gloves.

He was standing awkwardly, and his hands, clearly shaking, were clenched into tight fists.

"Sure?"

"So um, riddle me this. Why can't you hear a pterodactyl going to the bathroom?"

"Because pterodactyls went extinct 65 million years ago?"

His eyes widened, and a red tint began to become more visible around his face as he scratched his head, messing up his already tangled locks of hair.

"Oh.. That wasn't what I was going to say," He chuckled.

You smiled, suddenly feeling a warm aura coming from this boy.

"Well, what were you going to say?"

"Because, uh.. The P is.. Damn, whatever. My name's Leo. What's yours?"

ACTUAL RELATIONSHIP HEADCANONS He was awkward at the start of the relationship, not really knowing what to say or what exactly "being a boyfriend" entails, but once he starts getting comfortable and more confident around you, that's where the fun begins (yes this is a star wars reference) Expect every Spanish nickname to be pulled out of the book. "Mi amor," "Hermosa," "Bonita," "Mi vida," "Corazón," if it exists in the Spanish language, he's most definitely said it. And he won't skip out on variations of your preferred name, or even silly sounding nicknames in public, like: "pookie" and "sugarplum" or some other stupidness. For dates, I believe he'd very much vary between educational and immersive dates and just straight up goofing off. It honestly depends on the season. Late Fall/Winter is for going to museums, workshops, possibly a joint coding class or hanging together in one of your rooms, and Spring/Summer is for exploring the town and having those cute little boardwalk + beach + ferris wheel dates. (I also imagine him to be somewhat clumsy and he WOULD drop ice cream all over the pavement.) As the son of Hephaestus, he is most definitely a human radiator. Definitely had a lot of fever scares just because of his temperature alone. But don't worry, he's fine. And the heat is an extra bonus if you're cuddling. Speaking of cuddling and physical proximity, Leo's love languages are gift-giving and physical touch. It doesn't matter if you guys have been apart for 2 minutes or 2 days, if he hasn't seen you in a little bit, he will greet you with one of those spin around hugs or a kiss on the hand. And for gift giving, he enjoys giving and receiving gifts. He likes to either make you little trinkets, or make/buy your favorite foods. He is a firm believer of giving his lady princess treatment, even on a dollar store budget. Though he wouldn't consider himself much of a photographer, I think he probably enjoys taking lots of pictures of you, both with and without him. It's to savor the moment, and also because he wishes he could've taken more pictures with his mother when she was still alive. He has a photo album of just you, him, and the adventures you two go on. You're not a stranger to pranking by him, by the way. If anything, he probably pranks you the most, out of love. You'll chase him down for a few hours, and he gets a thrill out of it knowing you won't stay mad at him forever. In conclusion, dating Leo can be rocky, calming, and give you a whirlwind of emotions, similar to how being on a floating trireme would feel.

A/N: I'm going to be real I never really paid much attention to Leo in the books, so I'm hoping this is accurate?? my bad if it isnt gang 🙏🏽🙏🏽

#percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #heroes of olympus #pjo #hoo percy #pjo/hoo #riordanverse #rick riordan #leo valdez #son of hephaestus #leo valdez x reader #leo x reader pjo #percy jackson fanfic #leo valdez fluff #leo valdez pjo #leo valdez x fem reader #izzy loves cheesecake!! 🎀

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stagefoureddiediaz · 1 month

Text

Costume Meta 7x01

Aaaaaaannnnd we're back!!

OMG I cannot tell you how good it feels to be back writing costume meta - I have missed it so very much and this first episode has given me lots and lots to talk about so lets crack on with it shall we!

Where to start?! Firstly - Its amazing to have Alayna Bell-Price back in the driving seat and she is a genius because she knows the characters better than anyone and I have to say from my perspective there is a pretty clear difference between this episodes costumes and the ones from season 6 - not that s6's costumes were bad, just that you could see the shift of having a designer who didn't know the characters to the same level. I’m going to go in order of character appearance in a non uniform capacity for this one I think so we’re going to jump around from character to character a bit. There is no Maddie or Hen this week, as we don't see them out of uniform, but every one else is accounted for and I've included Norman and Lola as they've got a multi episode arc and their costumes are interesting and playing into a colour theme!

putting it below the cut as its a long post and I on't want to overtake everyones dashes! Enjoy!

We start off with Athena in this pale pink high neck ribbed sweater with large bell sleeves. I've spoken a fair amount about pale pink over the last couple of seasons of costume metas and how, in clothes its representative of childish and immature behaviours or thoughts. That holds true here - the pale pink is playing into Athena's childhood - when she developed her fear of cruise ships - its creating a connection between her childhood experiences and the woman sitting in Franks office.

We get a flashback that shows her in yellow and orange - the yellow for communication and the orange for transformation. A literal moment where we see Athena transform from the innocence of youth to her developing anxiety and fear around cruise ships. Its really clever visual storytelling connecting adult with child and shows us her fear is genuine and founded in something that she may not have been able to articualte fully as a child, but she can as an adult, even if she doesn't actually articulate it to Bobby.

Our next non uniform costume is Chimney. The lighting is really low in this scene, so it's kind of hard to be 100% sure of the colouring, but he seems to be wearing either a dark navy or black button up shirt under a dark green and black bomber jacket. The use of really dark green in combination with black, Back is a colour that can be about hiding ones vulnerabilities - concealment and masking, but it is also a colour associated with magic (generally dark magic) as well as pessimism. The green is growth and renewal, and the hope for a better future. to use them in combination i this way is playing on Chimneys insecurites and fears, his desire to keep the 'magic' alive in his relationship with Maddie, but it also speaks to his growth, that he goes home and talks to her about it (even if he does come up with an insane plan to 'date forever').

Eddie in the locker room - aside from being shirtless for much of it and pulling some epically good faces - was a super interesting costume choice. Especially the use of his watch! first though - Denim shirt time! We don't actually see Eddie in a denim shirt all that often and we've seen him in the super washed out one far more than dark denim shirts. I've been laughing a little bit at a few people (on twitter mostly) claiming its the same shirt he was wearing at the hospital during and after Bucks coma and it being a play on bringing Buck back to life. While I like the theory, its actually a very different shirt - the one in the hospital was black with a grey wash out and was made of velveteen - so different colour and fabric.

This shirt, is however one we have actually seen Eddie wear before and its far more telling than if it were the hospital shirt. You need to bear in mind that this scene is about Buck and Eddies respective girlfriends (or lack there of) and the fact that Christopher has a girlfriend now as well. This shirt is the same shirt Edie was wearing when he (re)introduced Ana to Chris in 4x08 (breaking point my beloved! the gift that keeps on giving!) and this puts a conversation about Marisol and things going well with her into the same category as Ana - suggesting she is ultimately destined for the same fate as Ana. the other thing that plays into this narrative is the use of the watch.

Eddie does not put the Christopher watch on until after he has found out that Buck has broken up with Natalia - so during the entire conversation about their respective girlfriends, he is only holding the Christopher watch, rather than wearing it.

In the picture below from 4x08 you can see that Eddie is wearing his black 'work' watch rather than the brown strapped 'Christopher' watch. Remember that the first time we see the Christopher watch is when he goes for his first date with Ana in Jinx, so he already has this watch and in theory should be wearing it in this scene. The fact he isn't is pretty telling and I'll go into that a bit more later when we get to Chris's (and Eddies) date scene.

Then we have Buck in his outfit of many colours! The white trainers, continue to play into my theory of Buck wearing them when he is in key points on his journey to discover his self - her it is about showing his growth - that he ended the relationship with Natalia - this is a massive thing when we saw how long it took for him to end things with Taylor - The man who clings is growing and getting out before it drags him down!

The jacket is similar in style to many of the ones we've seen him wearing in season 5 and 6, but this one is much brighter and more colourful. I know I go on about white meaning bad things for Buck, but that isn't relevant here - the white bad things happen to Buck theory is much more about t-shirts, jumpers and shirts rather than jackets - its an under-layer rather than a top layer that = danger. So i'm not thinking of its relevance here for this scene. What I am going to say is that this (according to my spreadsheet!) is the first time we've seen Buck in a white jacket of any description. To me, it's playing into the idea of purity and rebirth which is what white is often associated with. This plays into the comment Eddie makes welcoming Buck back to 'the land of the living' but also implies that Buck is starting a new chapter and making a fresh start - the check patterning suggests it might not all be plain sailing though.

The check pattern is an interesting one, obviously check pattern theory comes into play here, but whether its only in relation to the reveal that he split with Natalia, or if its also foreshadowing Buck getting himself into danger/trouble down the line, remains to be seen.

I'm going to quote myself again because I did predict that this scene may be about his relationship with Natalia when we got the stills dropped - the costume department never let us down!

The only thing I can do is scream into the void about check theory because check does't bode well for people - they always end up in the middle of the drama (see my check theory posts linked on my pinned post for more) and while they come out the other side (99% of the time) Buck in check for that scene in 6x18 pretty much doomed his relationship with Natalia (its specific to her and not C&K's baby as Buck wasn't wearing it when he delivered it!) and as that shirt in the still is very un Buck like, has not only yellow ochre in it, but also its a white base (and we all know buck in white is a bad sign!!) and its check patterned - my theory is that this scene is connected to Natalia in some way - either Buck is not being true to him self in more than one way - that things are going to/have come to a head for their relationship (my kingdom for a reverse of Buck to Eddie about Ana in 5x03!!!) and lead to a pretty big change in some way (fingers crossed for Buck to end it and then finally break down and deal with his trauma!!!) Some other things about that shirt - the colour combination - the green blue and yellow ochre are giving me call backs to coma Buck (another reason I think it might be connected to Bucks unresolved trauma around his death and Eddies absense in his dream)

In the quote above, I was also referring to the blue and white check pattern shirt he was wearing when he and Natalia got together, but there was also the fact that in the balcony scene at the end of 6x18, we also saw her in one of Bucks white shirts. I wrote in my 6x18 meta about how those two things combined didn't bode well for that relationship going forward, and thats what leaves me unsure about the check pattern on this white jacket being purely about something that has already happened. If I put my Buddie goggles on, I would perhaps suggest that the troubled times ahead may be more connected to Buck and Eddies relationship, and this would fit in with a couple of the things Oliver and Ryan have said. The thing with check theory though, is that generally speaking if it's on one of the mains, they come out the other side of the dram/trauma stronger than before. So if it is connected to Buck and Eddies relationship, then we can expect it to be in an even stronger position on the other side of whatever goes down (and at this point you can't strengthen their relationship any further and keep them as just friends imo!)

Chimneys forever dating proposal to Maddie, connects with his outfit when he's talking to Hen - it's the same jeans and black shirt, so the meanings of black, can be continued on into this scene - the idea of magic and hiding his vulnerabilities. The addition of the jacket with this brickwork pattern in its weave is a fun choice, it's playing into the idea of building something, but also plays into the idea that Chimney has his walls up - again fitting in with the black meaning of hiding his vulnerabilities - because instead of expressing his fears to Maddie ad then them talking it thorough, he comes up with his insane forever dating concept. the fact that much of this scene is a contrasting parallel with the scene from season 1 when he is pretending to be someone else entirely for Tatiana all ties in perfectly with this costume. The fact that he reverts to wearing blue (ran out of picture spaces so I couldn't include one) later on - when he's realised his plan isn't realistic, talks to Maddie and they end up back on the same page is really good to see - the blue being a signature Chimney colour and is indicative of him being true to himself.

Bobbys blue suit and blue check patterned shirt. The brightness of the blue is a really important choice - it's the only time we see him this brightly coloured on the cruise until he ends up in the bright red at the end. This is important because this is the moment when he's still all excited and hopeful for his honeymoon cruise - everything is good in Bobby's world at this moment in time - the check pattern is telling us that it's not going to stay that way for long. From her on out we see the colours of Bobby's costumes slowly beginning to dull and take on a washed out tone, but here in this moment all is good.

Athena's bright yellow dress is all about making her stand out - communicating with the audience, she is the brightest person in the room (in more ways than one!!). The thing with yellow, apart from the communication aspect, is that it can also be a symbol of anxiety and fear, so this dress plays rather nicely into the theme of Athenas fear of being on that ship.

The colour does have other good traits too - its fresh and bright and is a colour of happiness in its more jewel like tones and I think we can see all of these meanings in these scenes - Athena might be anxious about being on the ship, but she is also happy and enjoying herself with Bobby in that moment.

Lola and Norman. Lola is the one we need to focus on in her very bright very check patterned Victoria Beckham dress. Obviously the check pattern plays into check pattern theory, but the red also acts like a neon sign to the audience - highlighting that Lola is in danger - the ga won't pick up on check theory, although they might connect the dots about the fact this check patterning looks very like a cage - foreshadowing her being held captive later on, but also as a nod to the fact she was incarcerated previously.

The red is also a nod towards romance and love - playing into the rekindling of their relationship and romance in the aftermath of the freeway 'see me Norman' incident.

Ok so Christophers date night and by extension Eddies date night! This is where this meta is goingto get a bit messy and I'm goingto jump around a bit becasue I need to talk about the way colour theory is at play in all the scenes in Christophers bedroom, so we're going to talk about Christophers bedroom as one big thing rather than the two separate scenes that it actually is. They are extensions of one another and build on so much of the groundwork we've already seen in previous seasons.

Chris in plaid check yellow and red check plays perfectly into check pattern theory - it’s a signifier that something is about to go down with him - namely that the fact he’s dating multiple girls at the same time.

He’s also wearing a white shirt which is not a colour we see on him all that often - in fact, the only times we’ve seen him in a completely white shirt is with his suit in 5x01 when suit shopping and again in 6x08 for his school dance. He did wear a white vest when dressed as wolverine for halloween So as you can see its not a common colour for him, but the times have seen him wear it as a solid colour have been connected to school/girls and dating (i’m including the suit shopping in this because Ana was there and it was kind of a Eddie and Ana date of sorts - in that it was suppose to be for this Christening - meet the family - date type thing).

The most interesting thing is the plaid hooded shirt though. It was such an interesting choice to go with for a couple of reasons. the colour way is especially loud - we tend to see Chris wearing greens and blues and greys, with the odd other colour thrown in occasionally. So red and yellow are not common colours for him to be wearing.

On the red front we see him in it a couple of times - the adapted skateboarding scene and the scene in 4x10 when he joins Eddie and Ana on the sofa - getting in the way of their date night. We do also see him wear red in Christmas related episodes (so I don’t tend to count them in the same way as the Christmas colour theming will nearly always override any other colour theming intention - the use of stripes or check or other patterning is more important in those episodes!).

On the yellow front things are even more clear cut - the Tsunami arc, the aftermath of him falling off the skateboard, Mays graduation party and 5x03’s Eddie Ana break up! These (apart from the tsunami shirt) were all bright almost neon yellow.

This new plaid shirt is more into the yellow ochre part of the yellow spectrum, therefore tying much more to the tsunami arc, which is actually really fitting if you think about it in a little more detail - its a connection, not only to Buck, but also to loss and grief. Eddie might have been using his secret weapon (Chris) to get Buck out of his moping (read mourning) over not being able to go back to work, but Christopher is also still grieving the loss of his mother at that point as well, so its not just about cheering Buck up, its also about giving Chris a chance to do something fun and distract him from his own grief. That is why the use of yellow then ties in so nicely with its use on Chris now.

The other thing that really grabbed my attention about this shirt though is the fact that the two times we’ve seen Buck have a conversation with Chris in his bedroom, he has sat in the same spot and has been wearing one of those two colours - post shooting in maroon and this episode in the yellow ochre - if you watch those two scenes side by side, you see that they’ve used almost identical camera angles as well to film Buck.

I've spoken a lot about the use of maroon as a colour connected to parenthood - especially fatherhood , which is how its intended to be read on Buck - connecting to Eddie and his being shot, pushing Buck into a parental role in Eddies absence.

That alone is a pretty loud reference to Christophers connection and relationship to Buck, but then we have the yellow ochre of it all.

I feel a little bit insane about how close my prediction was on what the Buck Christopher scene was going to be about - this is from the meta I wrote when t he stills dropped;

Whatever this scene transpires being about, based on what we've seen with Buck wearing yellow ochre, we can assume its going to continue to play into this idea of Buck not being fully truthful with people and fitting into the role he thinks people want him to pay rather than being true to himself. I do want to add to this theory by looking at Christophers shirt as well. The grey/ yellow combination is a bit reminiscent of Breaking point (the episode that really is the gift that keeps on giving) because we get Chris in grey and Eddie in tan - that is yellowish toned whilst not actually being yellow There isn't a good screenshot of them together, but the placing of Chris and Buck in the new one has echoes of Eddie and Chris in that scene (one that is interestingly enough playing into the idea of changing family dynamics, but also the moment before and the one that happens afterwards at Bucks loft, directly placing Buck into a parental role (as an aside the idea of Buck being a miracle worker plays into the theme of Eddie looking for magic, just saying!))

Indirectly this scene was about Buck not being true to himself with people and fitting into whatever role he thinks people want him to fit into, only this wasn't an active situation - this was a scene where Buck could draw on his experience of having done that in the past to help Christopher - the line from Eddie 'you didn't end up being like you' is such a call to this and actually shows how valuable Bucks own experiences and learnings are in helping Chris (we've all been joking about Eddie choosing Buck to help him with this Chris's issue, but in actual fact he was the perfect person for the job - not just because of his being a 'reformed player', but also because of his relationship with death and the death of a loved one where you are reliant on others for their memories of a person rather than having your own)

The thing with the Yellow ochre (this meta here that i've already quoted from above is the place to go if you'd like more detail on its use on Buck more widely) isn't just its about it's connection to Buck, his place in Christopher's life and more loosely to the will of it all, (the fact that Buck and Eddie are both wearing the same colour ways as in the hospital bed will reveal scene and are both on the same sides of the screen in both scenes is a stroke of genius and is meant to connect these two scenes together) its also its connection to Shannon.

The first time we meet Shannon, she sits on Christophers bed in more or less the same position as we see Buck and Eddie sit, and looks at where Christopher has been positioned in all these conversations, and she is wearing a burnt orange top thats pretty close to the dark yellow ochre we see Buck wearing. Shannon wears a lot of yellow - as in it there are only a couple of times we don't see her wearing something yellow or with yellow in it and those are key scenes (which I will talk about later on).

Shannons appearance in Christophers room to read the letter she wrote him had her in this black top with a floral patterning on it. She was also wearing green trousers (which can be seen in the still below but aren't actually seen during the scene.

I actually really loved the green trousers and black top as a choice because the top is very Shannon - it sits perfectly with the floral patterns we saw her wearing when she was still alive. The green trousers are a bit of a departure for her, but I think its very intentional for two reasons .

The first is that they are very much in the Eddie trousers wheelhouse, especially in combination with black - he wears green khaki trousers a lot. The inference being that the black and green combination is an echo of Eddie.

The second ties to Christopher. Green is also a colour we've seen on Christopher a lot, it's probably the colour we see him in most. It's being used as a reflection of the fact he is growing and transitioning from child to teenager. But having it here in this scene - on Shannon connects a Christopher growing up without his mom.

Both of these combined really connect into Shannon in this scene, tying the three of them together and on Eddies efforts to keep her alive for Christopher - the underlying implication that his growth into who he is so far is as much to do with Shannon as it is to do with Eddie.

Her necklaces were not identical to the ones we saw her in in season 2, but that's most likely because they don't have them any longer, so they've replicated them as best as they can. The other little nod that I enjoyed is the brown bracelets on her right wrist - the same place Eddie wears his brown strapped Christopher watch!

But the top they have her in plays into a couple of other things - the prominent yellow flowers make an obvious connection to Buck from the previous scene, but they also tie into the 'I want a divorce' scene from 2x17 where she is wearing a dark blue dress with bright yellow ochre flowers all over it. the dress is not especially close to the top in the wider sense - blue dress with white squares v black top with florals in a variety of colours, but the yellow flowers are the prominent aspect of both items of clothing and play into the yellow theme connected to Shannon and then to Buck.

This is espeically relevant when you remember that Eddie is in a black suit in that scene and he's wearing black when he gives the letter to Christopher.

The black for this sequence of scenes is such a poignant choice - its Eddie mourning all over again, not for his loss, but for Christophers loss. I did find it telling that again in this scene, we have the absence of the Christopher watch. Eddie has very rarely not been wearing a watch in his scenes, so the times when we don't see him wearing one are very telling.

For me, in this sequence of scenes, it's about the fact that they are not about Eddies relationship with Christopher, but about Shannons relationship with Christopher. The watch is much more about Eddie and Christopher, so to have it absent from this story arc makes total sense and is symbolic of Eddie being a good father

Then we have Christophers grey shirt - I said when we first got the stills from that scene, how it was likely to be connected to complex family relationships - a la when we’ve seen Buck wearing his grey shirt. And what do you know - the scene was about complex family dynamics/ relationships.

It wasn’t perhaps in the manner I was expecting, but that series of scenes played with the full scope of Chris’s complex family relationships - from the relationship he has with Buck -not only as Christophers friend, but also as more or less Eddies co-parent (the way Eddie asked for Bucks help screamed co-parent rather than friend imo - that whole burnt out car scene was two co-parents discussing their child!) to the relationship he has with his dad - which is a pretty great relationship, but it is a complex one.

The relationship he has with his mom - or the fact he feels he doesn’t have a relationship with her despite Eddies best efforts, because as he grows up she feels further and further away.

Eddies 'date' night with Marisol. Again I ran out of pictures (30 is not enough!) so you're going to have to use your imagination or go back and rewatch the scene for yourselves, but trust me when I say that Eddie is wearing the same shirt he was wearing for this date night as he was in 4x10 - when Christopher interrupts because he can't sleep!

It's also a similar tee to the one Eddie wears when he has his breakdown and trashes his room (that one was more green when this one is much browner). Its slouchy and has cut and stretched raw edges at the sleeves and on the pocket - in the same way his breakdown shirt did. there is an element of being in familiar surroundings and being comfortable at home, but stretched out raw edges and Eddie generally tend to mean not so great things.

Of course there is the element of his parenting skills being tested by Christophers having more than one girlfriend, but if that where the only reason, then it would've made more sense to have him in that shirt when he's listening in to Chris talking to Buck, rather than when he's on a date with a new girlfriend.

This is especially true as the screen time for that tee has more connection with Marisol than it does with Chris. Combined with the fact that once again, like in the locker room scene, he is not wearing his Christopher watch in this scene and that speaks volumes.

If we are to read the scene as being about Christopher soley, he should be wearing his watch because that watch is a physical embodiment of the importance of Christopher in Eddies life - that he puts Christopher first in all things.

Got to say I was a bit shocked to see Marisol in his bright magenta silk spaghetti strap top when you consider the costumes we saw her in last season - mostly dressed down, t-shirts, jumpers and dungarees so this is a complete 180 for her character.

There are a few interesting things connected to her outfit, firstly it low key ties into Natalia - we saw Natalia in a red version of this top for her first proper onscreen date with Buck (when they go to the badge and ladder joint) so there is an interesting low key parallel to draw there. There is also the fact that her bracelet is a chain one - much like we've seen on all of Buck and Eddies previous girlfriends - although those have been necklaces, so I'm undecided if this chain bracelet is paying into the same trope as those.

Then there is the pink of it all.

You see Eddie and Pink on his girlfriends doesn't bode well for Marisol.

Both Shannon and Ana wore pink. Ana wore it a lot - there are two examples below, but generally speaking its her most commonly worn colour - including on her first date with Eddie in Jinx.

The first example below is from the first time we see her in the Diaz house. the shades are different, but the fact that the first time we see both characters in the Diaz house they're both wearing pink, speaks volumes.

The other key use of Pink is when Shannon is at the beach with Eddie and Christopher and she tells Eddie she's pregnant - Eddie takes it as the sign he has been looking for - the chance to effectively start over with their marriage, but this is the beginning of the end for their relationship, even if she hadn't died a short while later. She is wearing pale pink in that scene and it's the only time we see her wear the colour in the show.

The fact we can also contrast the use of pink with when Buck wears it is telling in its own right - we see the relationship between Buck and Eddie strengthening when Buck wears pink - May's graduation party, the tsunami, the Hildy coffee machine - all moments (big and small) that show the development of various aspects of their relationship and its ability to endure.

Essentially all this use of pink on the women he has had previous relationships with, doesn't bode well for Marisol and the longevity of her relationship with Eddie. How quickly it will end I can't say, just that it will end.

I spoke earlier in this post about colour theming for the episode and this is where I talk about it!

Pink - and in particular the very bright pinks we saw scattered across the episode. Marisol above wearing it, isn't just about connecting her to Ana in costume terms (especially as at this point that costume is a departure of her costumes from s6) it also connects her to the other characters we see wearing bright pink in this episode - Lola and Norman.

At this point in time I'm not sure if we're going to see it play out as a theme across the season, but its use in this episode was very loud on characters that are going to be around for more than 1 episode. It suggests that there is some underlying theme that connects them (by this I don't mean that they're gonna meet and hang out I mean that personality traits are going to be similar)

Magenta and bright pink in colour theory means a few different things, and like with all colours, has positive and negative traits. Generally speaking its a loud and brash colour thats designed to stand out and draw attention to it's wearer.

Things that are considered positive traits for this shade of pink are; intensity, acceptance, kindness and it's supportive and uplifting nature. It's connected to naive love (as in lust rather than the passionate and enduring love of red) can also be considered a nurturing colour.

Negative traits are; intensity, volatility, arrogant and impatient, irritability and irritating and frustration. it is also said to be a stress inducing colour and is said to be overly emotional.

Theres a clear and fairly loud connection between Lola and Norman getting into danger - Lola is in magenta trousers when she is kidnaped. Norman also has bright magenta flowers on his shirt at this point as well. My guess at this point is that we're supposed to lean into the stress inducing element, and also the irritating nature of the colour (On Athenas part at the very least!) and we'll see if those are the themes that play out for Marisol as well down the line.

Norman is in bright pink when he's lying and claiming she's unwell from being outside or too long. We also see that he is wearing pink in the ditsy print shirt later on (again I ran out of picture spaces!)

Athena's black top in this scene is much like the use of Chimney in black in his scenes. It's all about power and authority but it's also about her hiding her vulnerabilities. The other thing it does is creates a huge contrast with Bobby and all of the other passengers - she is the only one in black in the scene and it contrasts her with the underlying white of Bobbys shirt - juxtaposing them and visually putting them at odd with one another.

Like I said above about him becoming increasingly pale - here we see Bobby in a sea-foam green shirt - its the palest and washed out colour we've seen him in on this cruise (grey pyjama shirt not being included as its blink and you miss it and a pyjama tee!!!). Sea-foam green doesn't really play into the traditional meanings of green - there is still the element of renewal about it (the sea washes the sand etc)but its mostly a self-conscious and uncertain colour - both things that perfectly sum up how Bobby is feeling in this moment.

The other fun thing about this outfit is the palm tree shorts the patterns Bobby has worn in relation to this cruise, up to this point (and that includes the shirts from season 6) have all been tropical themed but on his shirts, the fact that they've now slipped down onto his shorts is a visual representation of him becoming increasingly dissatisfied with the way his honeymoon is going - that the tropical vacation vibes are slipping away.

Athenas red and white shirt, in my opinion is showing her cross purposes - its the duality of investigating and being on a cruise in a shirt. The bright red ties into the red and blue first responder colour way the show uses (for obvious reasons) while the white and the palm fronds, the lei flowers and the watery theming of the pattern fit into the troipical cruise they're on.

Bobbys red shirt contrasts with the lavender that we see on Athena - its not a colour we see on Bobby all that often and that makes its use all the more important. Especially considering the entire cruise thus far we've seen him in blues and greens - especially pale closer to pastel tones.

This red is bright snd bold and unlike his usual choices. Red is a colour of cross meaning - there is obviously the connection with love and the heart, which is absolutely at play her - his love for Athena is spurring him on and is part of what is pushing him in to investigator Bobby mode - and its representation of love is what is going to be the key player in the up coming episodes on the ship - when he is looking for Athena during the evacuation etc. But the other meaning of red is war, courage and anger and that is very much present here in this episode, and will (i'm assuming) be later on in 7x02 and 3.

The other thing I think its worth pointing out at this point (which is pure conjecture on my part at this moment in time but that I think will become relevant in the next two episodes rather than this one) is the foreshadowed parallel with Buck in season 5 when he broke down Eddies door. The bright red we saw him wearing then was an uncommon colour for him, in the same way it is for Bobby here. It's paralleling the way Buck was prepared to go into battle for Eddie, with the way Bobby is prepared to do so for Athena - going to war for your closest person, your loved one and doing what you need to do to save them.

Putting Athena in lavender the moment she gets to go into cop mode was a choice that had me giggling! Lavender is a colour of relaxation and order so for her to start wearing it the moment she gets to start being a cop again - speaks volumes for her state of being - it shows that her fear of being on the cruise ship and of being alone with bobby, has been overridden by her need to do her job and start investigating things. Its the perfect colour for this moment and for the impeding trouble brewing on the ship - Athena will bring order to things as order has been restored to her inner world.

Hopefully you've enjoyed this little canter through the costumes of 7x01 we're back in business and I can't wait to read your comments in the tags and comments 🥰

Tagging for those who've asked to be tagged - drop me a comment on this post if you'd like to be added to the list for the next meta 😎

@theladyyavilee @mistmarauder @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @mandzuking17 @spotsandsocks @loveyou2thecore @wanderingwomanwondering @oneawkwardcookie @leothil @copyninjabuckley @nathleigh @shammers86 @crazyfangirlallert @missmagooglie @inandoutoffocus @katyobsesses @radiation-run @gayandbifiremenofmine @lemotmo @bi-moonlight @satvojihusana @crazyaboutotps @princesschez75 @mongreloer @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @sherlocking-out-loud

#911 abc #I hope you enjoy!#its good to be back #I can't remember my costume tags 😂#911 costume meta #season 7 #s7 costumes #7x01 #Kym costume meta #Kym colour theory #911 costumes #long post #the costume department never fails #still feeling feral about so much of the stuff I got right and the new stufff I've spotted

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sourcherryandsprinkles · 1 year

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Hii love! Can you write ‘’I don��t care we broke up, I still love you.’’ with JJ Maybank?? Thank you❤️

I miss my boy JJ <3 Only three weeks until we see him again!! Who is excited for the new season?

my taglists are here + you can requests here at any time

—

Being stranded on 'Poguelandia' made you realize how you took many things for granted — especially your morning croissant and coffee — and the privilege of a hot shower and a soft pillow.

When you’ve lived your whole life in comfort, it’s hard to suddenly have nothing. When you escaped the boat with the rest of the pogues, you didn’t think you would come across an inhabited island and have to stay there for a while. It’s only been five days and you were starting to feel like the two kids in The Blue lagoon.

Everyone was in survival mode and helping in any way they could. You and Kiara had built a shelter for the night, Sarah and Cleo had gathered wood and some small fruits while the boys made good use of their fishing skills…and a makeshift spear.

It also made you reevaluate things. Like your relationship with JJ.

You had broken up shortly after Sarah and John B. were declared dead, both too emotional and heartbroken to be in a relationship. The ‘death’ of your friends had caused a massive crack in the group. Even the relationship between Kie and Pope had its hard moments, but unlike you and JJ, they were still together.

‘’I still love him. I never stopped,’’ you confessed to Kiara one late night on the beach while everyone was asleep.

Your eyes were on JJ, watching him sleeping soundly after sending your heart into panic earlier that day. Doing stupid shit was typical of JJ, but when he jumped from that cliff and he didn’t come up to the surface immediately, you got really scared. After almost drowning and definitely having a minor undiagnosed concussion, you could barely stand not having your eyes on him.

Kiara laid her head on your shoulder. ‘’I know.’’

Everybody knows.

If JJ had not been there, surviving on the island would’ve been harder. He was the sunshine in your life, always there to turn your grumpy frown into a smile after you had the worst sleep of your life and sand in places where sand should not be.

You’ve spent a lot of time together on Poguelandia, looking for coconuts and cracking them, teaching you how to catch a fish or watching the stars on nights neither of you could find sleep. It was nice to be close to him again.

But it wasn’t close enough.

‘’Can I eat that?’’ you asked, standing by a small bush of wild berries.

‘’If the berries are white, yellow, and green, don’t eat them,’’ JJ said, not even looking at the berries you were talking about. ‘’Some red berries are poisonous too, so be careful. If you eat a harmful berry, there could be great consequences. Red berries are roughly 50% safe to eat. And, if they are in clusters, they’re usually bad.’’

You nodded. Noted. ‘’Can I eat this one?’’

Growing up on the wealthier side of the island, you didn't know a lot of surviving tips. You didn’t even know how to pierce a coconut. Fortunately for you, JJ was there to help you out.

A small chuckle left JJ’s lips and he came over to you, checking the berries and plucking one from the branch. ‘’Open up, milady.’’ He held the small fruit before your mouth and you allowed him to feed it to you. ‘’If it taste weird, spit it out.’’

He was kidding. JJ would never let you eat a poisonous berry. He only said that to mess with you.

A call of your and JJ’s name made you whip your heads around to hear Pope saying the girls were swimming by the rocks and he and John B. were going to fetch more wood to make a fire tonight. You gave him a thumbs up and they left through the tall trees.

You plucked more berries from the branches, trying to calm your screaming stomach. Your body was not used to the small portion of food a deserted island had to offer.

While you were eating, JJ was trying to gather his words together. You hadn’t talked about what happened on the boat when he got knocked over, about when you saved his life. It was a difficult thing to think about and everyone respected your silence, but JJ wanted to thank you. If you had not jumped overboard and kept his head above water, he probably would have drowned.

‘’I…I didn't tell you, but what you did on the boat was brave as fuck,’’ he started, shifting his feet in the sand nervously. ‘’Jumping overboard like that? I wish I could've seen that.’’ A smile curled on his lips, imagining for a moment. ‘’Thanks for saving me.’’

When you saw him in the water, face down and not moving, you didn't hesitate and leaped. You would do again if you had to.

‘’Next time someone swings at you with a machete, you duck. I don’t want to play superhero again.’’ Your eyes welled up with tears and JJ pulled you against him. He didn't smell like weed and teen-boy deodorant anymore, just salt water and sweat, but he embrace still felt like JJ.

‘’I’ll try to remember.’’

‘’I almost gave up,’’ you confessed against his shoulder, ‘’but I wasn't going to abandon you. If you go down, I go down too.’’

JJ tightened his hold around you. He felt so lucky to have you in his shitty life.

You slipped your hands through the haphazardly cut holes of his shirt and spreading your fingers on his back. JJ went soft under your touch, his head falling into the space between his shoulder and neck.

‘’I don’t care we broke up, I still love you. I always will.’’

—

OBX taglist: @moralina @eudximoniakr @toylewestinnyc @rottenstyx @sweeterheartxamerica @jordierama @viridwityy @izzy-laufeyson @kenzi-woycehoski @lilaconner @katsukis1wife @hawkegfs @mommyruuetrue @acornacreacure

All and more taglist: @spiokybirdstarfish @kenqki @liidiaaag @hawkegfs @gillybear17 @areaderinlove @acornacreacure @black-rose-29 @fudge13

#jj maybank imagine #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank outer banks #jj maybank x y/n #Outer Banks #outer banks jj #outer banks imagine #rudy pankow

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plutofromafar · 28 days

Text

let's go home

A/N: heyyy... it's been a while (two years) since i've written something. life just got busy, but i hope you're all doing well. anyway, i've been rewatching criminal minds and got inspired to write this. i hope you like it!

pairing: season 6 Emily Prentiss x fem!Y/N

warnings: angst, toxic relationship, control issues, trust issues, canon character death, grief, (but everything is okay in the end)

word count: 2517

Read on AO3

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

"Where have you been?"

You dropped your bag to the floor and shrugged off your jacket, hanging it up.

"Out. How was work?"

Emily ignored your question, crossing her arms as she leaned against the wall, watching you with curious eyes.

"Out with who?"

"No one, Em. Am I not allowed to leave this apartment?" You sighed.

"You never just leave without telling me where you're going or who you're with, don't give me an attitude."

You roll your eyes, heading to the bedroom. Emily stopped you.

"You're not going to bed without telling me where you've been."

"Why does it matter? You've been at work. I just wanted to get some fresh air," you threw your hands up in slight frustration. "You leave every morning, and I don't question you. Why can't I do the same?"

"Because I don't trust you!" Emily raised her voice. She blocked off your path, glaring at you.

You narrowed your eyes, steeling your composure to not show that her words had hurt you.

"Why not? I'm your girlfriend."

"And that means I should trust you just because we are dating? You've given me plenty of reasons not to trust you."

"Like what?"

Emily placed her hands on her hips, standing up straighter. "You've been secretive, you're too friendly with other women, you're always on your phone, you hide things from me."

Rage bubbled inside your chest. "Do you think you're a saint, Emily? You are no different from me. How many times have I tried to ask you about your day, just for you to shut down? How many times have I been tossed aside while you prioritize your work? How many hours have I spent waiting for you to come home, worrying that you were shot dead when you'd really just fallen asleep at your desk?"

Emily flinched, surprised by seeing you so angry, and how true your words were.

"Y/N, that's different. i'm just... busy all the time, or have classified information..."

You felt tears sting in your eyes.

"I can't do this anymore," you whisper.

Emily froze in place at your words, watching you grab a duffle bag from the hallway closet.

"What?"

You swiftly moved to the bedroom, feeling Emily follow behind you. You started packing a few essentials, deciding that you would come back later for more things.

"You know what."

"You're leaving?"

"I don't think you're ready to be in a serious relationship, Em. I saw the signs from the start, but I overlooked them because I liked you. But I can't put up with all the secrets, the lying, and the distrust anymore. I'm your girlfriend; I trust you more than I trust anyone in the whole world, and it hurts that you don't feel the same about me."

You wiped your tears.

Emily took a step forward, feeling a surge of panic.

"Sweetheart, listen, it's not like that... I..." she faltered, unable to think of anything that would fix this situation.

You waited for Emily to continue, but her silence was enough of an answer. You zipped up your bag and walked over to Emily, giving her a soft kiss on her forehead.

"I love you, Em. But I can't stay here."

Emily's face briefly softened at your kiss, but her heart dropped as your departure started becoming very real.

"I-" Emily's voice cracked. "Can I talk to you? Please?"

You stopped by the door, considering your next words very carefully.

"I've given you so many chances to talk to me. If all it takes is for me to leave, then it's probably too late."

A wave of hurt crashed over Emily, even though she knew there was a truth to your words.

"I promise I'm ready to talk now."

You made the grave mistake to turn back, and one look at her sad brown eyes was convincing enough. Wordlessly, the two of you walked to the couch and sat down.

Emily took your hand, breathing a sigh of relief when you didn't pull away.

"I know I haven't been the best girlfriend over the past couple months, okay? I-I admit, I've been keeping some things from you, but you have to understand..."

"Understand what?" You voice was soft, but your tone harsh.

"Understand why I was keeping them from you, I just..." Emily sighed. "I was scared. Scared to tell you certain things."

You looked into her eyes. "Is something happening at work? Or is it something in our relationship?"

There was a moment of hesitation before Emily spoke.

"I-it's work-related, yes... and it's the reason I've been so... on edge."

"Does it have something to do with Ian Doyle?" You pieced together.

Emily froze, the name she never wanted you to know of coming out of your mouth.

"Where did you hear that?"

You sensed the anxiousness in her voice, and you knew you were treading on dangerous waters.

"I came home early one night, and I overheard you talking on the phone to someone. You sounded stressed out, I figured it had something to do with work."

Emily nodded slowly.

"I... H-how much of that did you hear?"

You shook your head, "Not much. Just a few names and details. 'Interpol', 'undercover', 'Lauren Reynolds.'"

Just hearing those words alone made Emily anxious.

"I need you to keep what you heard a secret, okay? Don't tell anyone, not even the team. Can you promise me that?"

"Yes, of course."

A wave of silence washed over the two of you. Emily fiddled with her fingers, but never took her eyes off yours.

"Emily, I don't have to worry about losing you, do I?"

Emily managed a small smile, holding your gaze for the longest time.

"No, you don't have to worry about that. I'm not going to let anything keep me away from you, Y/N. I promise."

It was like the storm clouds had finally parted, revealing a glimpse of blue skies above. For the first time in your year-long relationship, Emily had finally opened up to you about something.

You slowly moved in for a hug, giving Emily the chance to opt out if she wanted to. But she leaned into your embrace, hugging you with such intensity, as if you'd vanish if she let go of you. Emily had never been so scared to lose someone before, and she knew that she could never risk losing you ever again.

You were the first to break the silence.

"This can't happen again, Em. I need you to be honest and trust me. I value your feelings, and I don't want to lose you."

Emily nodded as you voiced her thoughts exactly.

"I know. I promise... There's, uh... one other thing I need to tell you about."

"What is it?" You pull away to look at her.

"I need to go somewhere tomorrow to deal with an issue from my Interpol days. I'm not sure how long I'll be gone..."

Emily stood up, walking over to the window and knelt down. She flipped up a floorboard, taking out a padded envelope.

"If I'm not back within a week, I want you to open this."

You took the envelope.

"What are you planning to do, Em?" your voice shook.

"It's just a precaution," Emily lied in order to not worry you. "There's a risk that comes with every mission I go on. I just want you to keep this for the future."

When you didn't reply, Emily took your hands into hers.

"I'm going to be fine."

You nodded, touching your forehead to Emily's.

"Will you stay? Come to bed with me?"

Emily's soft and vulnerable words sent an ache to your heart.

"Yeah."

The two of you settled into bed. You laid on your side, face to face with Emily. She leaned in to plant a kiss on your forehead, wrapping her arms protectively around you.

"I love you, Y/N.”

"I love you, too."

Long after you dozed off, Emily remained awake. She wanted to remember how your body molded perfectly against hers, the smell of your shampoo and how your hair tickled her nose, and how her heart beat differently when she was around you. She worried about how you would hold up if something happened to her. She tried to stay as still as possible to not disturb your sleep. After what felt like hours, she let sleep overcome her as well.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

The next day, you woke up to an empty bed. Emily had already left as she usually did, but this time it came with a heavy, lingering feeling. Of what, you weren't sure yet.

You sat up in bed and glanced at the alarm clock on Emily's bedside table, which told you that it was almost 12pm. You felt something on your forehead and you reached up to find it was a bright pink sticky note. You laughed, remembering how Emily used to leave notes stuck on your forehead if she woke up and left before you.

“Be home soon. I love you,” the note read in Emily’s cursive handwriting. You stuck it to the wall above your nightstand.

You had the day off from work, so you started your day of relaxation. A few hours later, a knock on the door jolted you out of your focus on a TV show you were binging. Your limbs protested as you stood up from the position you’ve been sitting in all day.

A familiar face stood behind the door.

“Andersen?”

Agent Andersen had a solemn expression on his face.

“Y/N, I regret to inform you that Agent Prentiss has been injured in the field. I’ve been sent by Agent Hotchner to bring you to the hospital.”

The world went silent as his words sunk in. This wasn’t the first time during your relationship that Emily had gotten injured, but it wasn’t the kind of thing that got easier every time.

The journey to the hospital was a blur. Before you knew it, you were in the waiting room. A heavy silence occupied the room as you and the team waited for an update.

Finally, the doors opened and you stood up, almost falling over until Rossi took your arm. With one look at JJ’s face, you knew your worst fears had come true.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

It’s been seven months since Emily died. Seven months since you attended her funeral. Seven months since you quit your job, packed your bags, and left town without telling anyone.

You’ve been living in a permanent state of anxiety and grief ever since Emily’s passing. You could barely register anything happening around you, not with the words “she never made it off the table” echoing in your mind constantly. You currently resided in New York with your friend, who was in their first year of residency and basically lived at the hospital, so you had the apartment to yourself a majority of the time.

You became vaguely aware of your phone ringing as you pulled yourself out of your daze. You were surprised and confused when the caller ID read Hotch’s name. The first month after your very sudden departure, your phone was bombarded with calls from each member of the BAU. As time passed and their calls kept going unanswered, they ceased their contact. Occasionally, you would get a few voicemails from Penelope who would update you on things happening in her life and to tell you that she missed you.

“Hi.”

“Y/N,” Hotch’s voice lifted in surprise. “I wasn’t sure if you would answer.”

You sighed.

“Well, here I am.”

“I’m…” Hotch trailed off for a second. “I’m calling because I need you to come back to Quantico.”

“Not interested.”

“I wouldn’t be asking if this wasn’t important, Y/N,” Hotch spoke quickly before you could hang up.

You thought about it for a moment.

“I’ve already sent the jet your way. JJ will meet you at the airport.”

You chuckle.

“I haven’t agreed yet.”

“I think you’ll want to be back here. Just trust me.”

The thought of reuniting with JJ and the rest of the team was tempting. You hadn’t realized how much you missed them all these months.

“Okay.”

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

JJ met up with you at the airport runway, pulling you into a tight embrace that you reciprocated. The two of you caught up with each other as the jet got ready for takeoff.

JJ sat up straight, her face becoming serious but still warm.

“Y/N, there’s something I need to tell you before we land.”

You held her gaze, sensing a hint of anxiety in her voice.

“What is it?”

Just like seven months ago in that waiting room, the world stopped spinning when you heard JJ’s words. You sat like a statue as she recounted the events, from Emily’s transfer to Paris to the team taking down Doyle at last.

When you were unresponsive for too long, JJ gently touched your hand.

“Emily is alive?” you ask for confirmation, not believing what you heard.

“Yes.”

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

Your steps from the runway into the office were quick and frantic, even JJ had to try to keep up with you. Through the glass doors of the office, you made eye contact with Hotch.

“Emily’s alive? Where is she? Is she here?”

Hotch didn’t answer your rapid-fire questions, but he swiftly led you into his office. Your heart was beating out of your chest and you could hear each pump of blood.

The figure in the room turned around and you gasped when your eyes met brown ones that you thought you would never see again. The Emily that stood before you had small changes in her appearance, but she was still your beloved Emily.

Emily approached you slowly, as one might approach a scared puppy.

“Y/N.”

You let out a sob, diving forward and pulling Emily into your embrace. She held you, tenderly stroking your hair as you cried into her neck. Tears sprang into Emily’s eyes as she felt her heart begin to mend having you in her arms.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry…” Emily repeated softly. “I had to keep us safe until Doyle was captured. I’m so sorry I had to leave you, and that I had to lie to you.”

You shook your head, pulling away slightly to see her face.

“You had no choice, I understand. I’m just glad you’re here. I thought I lost you for good.”

“You’ll never lose me again,” Emily wiped a tear from your cheek. “These past seven months have been hell without you. All I could think about was how rocky our relationship had been in the months before I left. I promise you that I won’t let us go back to that. It’s not going to be easy, and I have a lot of issues to work through, but I’m going to put in the work. I trust you wholeheartedly, Y/N.”

You smile at her words, feeling that things will be different this time around.

“That means a lot to me, Em.”

Emily tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, cradling your chin in her hand.

“Let’s go home, okay?”

“Let’s go home.”

#emily prentiss #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds angst #emily prentiss angst #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss x y/n #jennifer jareau #aaron hotchner #david rossi

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cosmicanakin · 2 months

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Hii! I saw that you were receiving requests, so I was wondering if you could write something with Clay beresford. So you know he’s like very reserved and serious, so everyone thought that Clay would be a very cold and distant boyfriend, but when the reader and him start dating, everyone’s speeches to see how sweet and loving he is. Just some fluffy scenarios. Thank you!! It’s okay if you don’t want to write it:)

proving them wrong.

pairing. clay beresford x female reader.

outline. though known to be cold and reserved, when clay starts dating you, everyone is surprised to see the loving and affectionate man that he actually is.

contains. fluff, established relationships, mild social judging, marriage, and mentions of pregnancy.

authors note. thank you sm for the req anon muah <3

after months of shy glances and nervously exchanged smiles from across the room at various work functions, you finally worked up the courage to give clay beresford your number. to your surprise, he called within the hour to ask you to dinner that weekend.

your friends were shocked at your news, warning you of clay's reputation for being cold. "don't get your hopes up y/n, we all know clay isn't one for emotions or commitment. just be careful, okay?" while their concern was sweet, you got the sense there was more to clay beneath surface assumptions.

the dinner went wonderfully, clay being the perfect gentleman pulled out your chair and listened intently to you speak. any awkward silences didn't feel uncomfortable but companionable. by the night's end as he walked you to your door, you felt a fluttering start taking root in your heart seeing his normally serious expression soften into a gentle smile solely for you.

more dates followed, each only increasing your connection and affection for one another. to everyone's surprise, clay proved a caring boyfriend always attentive to your needs, happiness and comfort. grand romantic gestures were replaced by tender looks and leisurely strolls enjoying each other's company without need for flashy displays.

the warmth in his eyes and tender caresses meant more than any elaborate showmanship ever could. for the first time you felt truly seen and cherished for who you are within rather than superficial assessments judging without bothering to peel back concealing layers guarding his heart. through patience and understanding clay eventually lowered all defenses with you alone.

slowly your friend's bigotry started cracking as well, catching how gentle yet strong arms encircled your form at gatherings without desire for bravado. simple intimate moments when clay would kiss your temple in passing melted cynicism into understanding why this reserved man captured your soul so wholly.

his wealth and inheritance mattered little to the devotion within warming your life to brilliance. words flowed freely, laughter liberating what stress accumulated through days apart soothing away in tranquility of each other's sanctuarying presence. in your arms clay discovered solace calming all turbulence of doubts plaguing mind when alone.

so it continued through months turning to seasons, love blossoming ever more vibrantly where commitment tended roots nourished by understanding alone waters true affections blossoms requiring only sunlight of smiles warmed by souls mirroring each other's radiance. misunderstandings faded beneath blossoms thriving where care sustains dreams nurturing lifelong partnerships amid life's changes.

two years finding bliss together passed in companionship's tranquil stroll, contentment's sighs breathing life afresh during stolen moments sheltering hearts entwined from turbulence beyond your calm port. talking late into nights after family dinners, fingers interlaced, remnants of days worries evaporated under tender caresses and kisses sweeter than any nectar reviving your soul to clay's humming rhythm.

his protective yet liberated spirit known fully by your heart alone rejuvenated purpose anew each dawn waking limned in his softened gaze sharing pillow talking until obligations reluctantly summoned you both from comfort's embrace. forever imprinted upon your soul remains memory of proposal kneeling upon sand caressed by ocean's susurrus, waves lapping celebration of love's permanence within clay's watery eyes reflecting your radiant smile mirroring joy illumining his normally guarded visage.

a summer wedding follows amid friends and family fully supportive now of your perfect union, witnessing love transcending surface levels carved deeply as roots anchoring two souls as one. traveling the world strengthening already unbreakable bond, learning of clay anew through wanderings unveiling pieces you fit to his mosaic glimpse by glimpse, deepening cherishing beyond any limit imaginable before love found your separate halves.

three fulfilling years later, you're cradling your newborn daughter within your arms as clay gazes upon you both with such emotion flooding watery eyes, your heart has never felt fuller nor purpose clearer than raising this miracle of pure love cementing forever your fate intertwined.

#﹙ kari writes 𝜗𝜚 ﹚#clay beresford #clay beresford x reader #clay beresford x y/n #clay beresford angst #clay beresford smut #clay beresford x female reader #clay beresford blurb #clay beresford fluff #clay beresford x you #awake #awake 2007 #hayden chistensen #hayden christensen angst #hayden christensen x y/n #hayden christensen x you #hayden christensen blurb #hayden christensen fluff #hayden christensen x reader

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dustykneed · 4 months

Text

OKAY YALL. jim totally has movie nights/show watching nights with bones and spock (jim's captain's quarters have this big retractable screen meant for conference calls or viewing ship logs but obviously it also effectively doubles as a giant tv screen!!) and it basically turns into sleepover night where they have fun doing the fun kiddy shit they deserve (after bones and jim nearly started brawling after jim wiped the floor at monopoly via "underhanded GODDAMN tactics" according to bones, spock has made a note never to attempt to bring up monopoly on movie nights EVER AGAIN)

but also consider: pre-slash spones watching a show and arguing about favourite characters ("Your parameters for selecting a 'favourite character' are most illogical, Doctor." "Favouritism is favouritism, Spock! I couldn't give a rat's ass about goddamned logic!") but agreeing that their favourite chars would make a great couple ("It would be illogical to deny the high compatibility of these characters. One might be inclined to infer that their opposing characteristics may in fact be complementary and hence conducive to an optimal relationship." "By God, just say that ya think they look good together, Spock!") EXCEPT THEIR FAVOURITE CHARACTERS ARE BASICALLY THEMSELVES RESPECTIVELY lmao

jim is sitting next to them on the couch watching them argue shaking his head like it is So obvious ya doofuses GET TOGETHER ALREADY

until this new character (extremely jim-coded) is introduced in the next season who has shockingly intense chemistry with each of the bones/spock coded chars individually. Which starts a whole ship war between bones and spock, who, ironically, ship the other's character with the new one, and go ham on trying to prove (quoting scenes, acting choices, prop choices, even theorising about behind-the-scenes agendas) that they're right about their ship. jim thinks it's absolutely fucking hilarious seeing his best friends come extremely close to duking it the fuck out on his couch over FICTIONAL CHARACTERS, GUYS, COME ON. all the while bones and spock are losing their fucking minds because occasionally their own favourite characters will have Moments and they'll go insane trying to figure out which ship is definitively endgame. they have a bet going that whoever has their ship sunk will have to hand over a quarter of their lab time to the victor and act as assistant while the other uses the time to work on their own experiments.

jim thinks it's the funniest thing he's ever seen- UNTIL ON THE LAST EPISODE OF THE SEASON ALL THREE CHARACTERS GET TOGETHER. jim (who has Known how much the character dynamics reflected the triumvirate themselves all along) is completely fucking speechless and has a huuuuge epiphany about his own feelings for spock and bones. meanwhile bones (speechless with pure unfettered rage both at the fact that technically he was wrong but also HOW COULD HE NOT HAVE SEEN THIS BEFORE???) and spock (kicking himself mentally for not having considered this possibility previously) are about to argue (all while jim is spiralling lmfao) when the bones-coded character says something like "huh. I guess we were so focused on trying to pair up that we forgot we worked best together as a trio." and bones starts to Get It, and then spock also starts to Get It, and they turn to jim, who gets that they Get It, and begins to giggle hysterically, and it is so contagious that bones starts to die of laughter and even spock cracks a chuckle.

Later, when they're all lying in jim's giant bed sleepy and happy and satisfied, cuddled together and cozy as hell, jim tells them that he's sorta known they (spones) would get together like in the show all along but he doesn't know how he didn't figure out where he came into the equation until now when it was so obvious!! and bones tells him he thinks he had always loved jim and spock but for some reason it took months and months of ship wars to see it (lol) which he's definitely glad for despite the high blood pressure every time he and spock would argue. and spock presses a kiss to the corner of jim's mouth and two fingers to bones' own, and whispers that for once, he agrees fully with leonard on the matters of their new favourite ship. jim doesn't think he's ever grinned that wide in his entire fucking life.

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reiderwriter · 7 months

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I'm curious to hear your thoughts about the dom/sub debate when it comes to mr Spencer Reid.I personally lean towards believing he is more of a soft/rough dom depending on the day.And especially since your dom spencer fanfictions are some of my absolute favorites of all time (the margaritas part 2 had me weak on the knees),I would love to hear you profile my favorite profiler as to if he is a dom or a sub,which you believe is more true.(I know which one is like to believe to be more true😂)I would love to read your insight to his brain and how you understand him!Have a great day!! :)

Oh I would LOVE to get into it, and this is going to be a season by season break down so please bare with me lmao

Spoilers (kinda) for season 1-15 of Criminal Minds under the cut, only read up to where you are in the show!

Season One

You may be thinking "surely that is a sub" and you would be right, if he was having sex, which he is very clearly not. He graduated from his third PhD and then immediately joined the BAU, that is a virgin, your honor.

Season Two

At some point in season one, he loses his virginity. Probably to Lila Archer, maybe to Elle (no further questions, there are some amazing fanfictions that fill in this). But whoever he is doing it with is absolutely dominating him, he just doesn't know it.

Season Two Spencer is curious about BDSM, but having what he assumes is Vanilla sex (just because he isn't calling women Mommy yet, he thinks that he is having normal sex, when in reality he's like pathetically whining asking for release).

During his ongoing addiction days, I think he'd be more than happy to just switch off his brain during sex and just follow orders, do what he's told.

Season Three

A sub and he knows it. Still feels unconfident enough to not be in charge in the relationship, he likes switching his brain off when he fucks. But something does start to switch and he's suddenly a little bit more confident this season, so I can see him being a bit of a brat - talks back, doesn't follow rules, really very mouthy in front of other.

((The majority of my sub Spencer smut is set at around this time - I ❤️ whiny brats lmao))

Season Four

This is where I can see him becoming a bit more confident but I don't think he's a dom yet. I do think he's absolutely taking advantage of his leg injury and absolutely loving being ridden, not having to put in any work. I think after all this he decides he really likes the look on the other person's face when they're on the edge of ecstasy and he wants to explore drawing that out a bit.

Season Five

I think we're experimenting here. So many things have happened in his life by this point that I think he needs to gain control in some part of his life, and his sex life is just the easiest option. He's still giving switch energy, but that sudden short haircut? The brattier energy? He's suddenly coming into himself again, and he's definitely comfortable being a little more dominant now. But he's not an experienced dom yet, so I think he's just taking charge and telling his partners what to do, he's not into choking/ punishment/ degradation yet.

I can't remember if its season five or six where he points out he isn't a typical "alpha male." A lot of people take this to mean that he's calling himself a sub, which could definitely be the case, but also, I think he likes being underestimated sexually, because it makes it more exciting for him when he does get the upper hand in the relationship, which he does in that episode (he interviews the wife and then tells her that her husband killed the actual father of her child and makes her stare at their faces until she cracks and breaks down into tears. He offers her no comfort is all I'm saying... 👀)

Season Six

This is controversial, but I think from this point on, Spencer is fully a dom. He has that scare where he thinks he's "developing" Schizophrenia, and his constant headaches, he just needs release and I think he finds it in multiple beds, lmao. He does have that moment of vulnerability at the end of the season when everything happens with Emily, so I think if he's having sex it's back to Vanilla, but like really passionate, and I'm not saying that he'd fall in love with everyone who's bed he falls into but I'm just saying he needs companionship at the end of this season.

Season Seven

This season starts with him literally cutting off the board of directors at the FBI to correct them and standing by his decisions and if that isn't the biggest dick energy ever idk what is. He's angry, and he's frustrated, and he thinks the team overlooks him a little bit, so you know what he's going to do? He's going to dominate whoever he's in bed with to regain some of that control. I can see this as the time that Spencer finally really gets into more aspects of BDSM. He let's demeaning words slip out of his mouth during sex and then notes the positive reaction they get, so he keeps doing it until he can make the other person cum.

((The majority of my dom smut with Spencer is set at around this time.))

Season Eight

This isn't a Dom, this is a dumbass. I'm pretty confident that for the first half of the season, he's not having sex, because he's committed to Maeve and he never meets her. Then after she dies he's too depressed and busy to get out there. I think if he did go out and find someone to keep him company, it'd probably back to the post-Emily-Doyle arc where he just needs to feel someone close to him someone wrapped around him, someone holding him tight, so it's slow. It's passionate and it's loving, but he's still pretty detached about it. He literally doesn't care about finding a release, he'd rather just have the physical touch for a while.

Season Nine

Straight up dom. Will choke a bitch, regularly does. I can see him getting a little bit rougher now, probably gets asked to spank one of his partners and then does NOT want to stop ever doing that. Grows to lightly slapping in the face. He does literally tell Garcia that he has a dominant side, and she straight up ignores him, though, so I think he's pretty comfortable in people "underestimating" him, I guess?

When he gets shot in the last few episodes, he's literally ready to get back out there as soon as possible, and I think that applies to sexual encounters as well. When some of his other "traumatic events" happen, I can see him taking a break for a while, but with this one, he gets medical clearance and is immediately burying his head between someone's legs.

Season Ten

I am only on season 9 of my rewatch, and to be completely honest, nothing of merit really happens to Spencer in Season 10 from my memory, so I'm just going to assume that he's basically the same.

The only thing that really can be cause for concern is Gideon's death, and I think that does truly fuck him up for a while, but that's anger and grief mixed together, so I can see him moving between rough fucks and slow passionate needy sex for a few months while he works through all of that.

Season Eleven

Spencer Reid vs Cat Adams is literally dom on dom crime, the entirety of Entropy is just them trying to be the one topping one another. And we know who wins that battle, so...

Definitely into pet names and calling his partners little sluts, whores, bitches etc. I don't want to say that Morgan babied him, because their relationship really developed a lot over the seasons and deserves it's own non-horny post lmao, but I think Morgan leaving really allowed the writers to let Spencer take more of a dominant role in interrogations, investigations and the like. And he's the last person who really considers Spencer a "kid" (apart from Rossi who literally thinks of them all as children) so he no longer has to, I guess justify? his sexual behavior. He's just all-in on it now.

Season Twelve

Pre-prison Spencer Reid in season twelve is a bad lover. He's inattentive, literally just chasing his own needs, probably pumping and dumping and now really paying attention to the aspects of a role that a dominant really should - the after care and looking after the person who is submitting to him. Then he goes to prison.

When he gets out, I can absolutely see the man suddenly having a breeding kink, wanting to be so close to someone, for someone to have such absolute confidence in him that he can fuck them raw and neither of them will care about the consequences. He's still a little damaged though, so I can see him oscillating between needing slow comforting sex, and harsh sex, really leaning into punishment/reward play and experimenting with different kinks, and maybe even public sex.

After he starts working at the University, I think role-playing and calling him "sir" would also really turn him on, and for a while he'd think it's a little gross as he's literally a teacher, but after a while he doesn't care anymore because it makes him feel so good.

Season 13-15

It's the same as above. He's dominant, but he still needs taking care of, but at this point he's so closed off from the world that he'll never be able to submit to someone again. So slow, sloppy, passionate sex, lasting for hours and hours is probably his way to go. I can see him being the type of soft! Dom that is just asking for "just one more" orgasm, over and over again, and then just overwhelming his partner with aftercare - running them a bath, cleaning them up, making them food or a hot drink, propping some pillows up behind them. He's a real gentleman, and I think his emotional distance could probably break a lot of hearts.

OVERALL

He goes from the whiniest virgin-sub to a bratty switch, all the way to a rough dom and then settles into being a very soft caring dom in his later years.

That's just my opinion though, and I'd love to hear what everyone else thinks!! I really didn't look too much into what happens in each of these seasons because I put approximately 0% research and 100% opinion and what I would want to see (lmao) into this, so if there's something specific that happens that has you thinking that he'd have a certain preference in any season then PLEASE tell me.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #reiderreplies #spencer reid headcanon #headcanon #criminal minds headcanons

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shammers86 · 3 months

Text

Because I’m not tired and my brain is going a million miles a minute because Tim f-ing Minear decided to drop some more stills.

Season 6 ending with Buck in a relationship and Eddie asking Marisol out for coffee. Obviously with three cruise ship episodes, there might not be a time jump for 7x01. However I think Tim is editing 7x01 and hence some of the stills. And he said they just cracked the seal on 7x04 so these stills are definitely not from that.

I theorized Marisol wouldn’t be around long. Some people think so (I do however love the idea of her playing a stalker. It would be amazing. We did call Jonah from day 1) but I don’t.

It’s a basic reset for new viewers.

We do know everyone recovered by the end of season 6, so this could tie into that.

My angsty AF theory is that Buck doesn’t know why he’s flailing with Eddie going out with Marisol. He’s been very involved with Natalia at the end of season 6 and therefore could think “I might need to take a step back from the Diazes.”

Buck hasn’t really dealt with the trauma of dying, of his coma dream and thinks if someone came back, then maybe he should date them. And he’s probably feels Eddie slipping away if he’s spending time with Marisol and Buck dives into the relationship with Natalia.

More below the cut before holy lord LONG POST.

In this still, it seems like they are still in sync at work. Probably putting out a fire and rescuing someone. This feels like the conversation in Jinx about Eddie running into Ana. They are bumping shoulders so they could be talking about relationships.

Somewhere between this still and these stills below, something happens. That something makes Eddie work out hard enough to sweat which we have only seen maybe three times. Once when Buck was being a brat, another during the fighting and again when he’s on the treadmill after transferring. But for the most point, he only does this when he’s anxious or mad about something to do with Buck.

My angsty AF theory is that Buck really stepped back on their friendship and him being there for Chris. Eddie is still affected by the lightning strike and suddenly Buck isn’t there anymore. Whether it’s to give Eddie time to date or to spend more time with Natalia, Eddie is going through it.

He saw a life without Buck and he knows it sucks but he doesn’t know how to properly say that to Buck. And we have the puppy eyes where Buck asks if everything ok with Marisol and maybe just maybe getting a hint that something is off with him and Eddie.

These stills are reminiscent of Buck’s speech about Ana and Eddie’s lack of feelings and panic attacks about her. Except maybe this time, Buck starts to realize there might be more to this.

Obviously Eddie is getting advice from Bobby but the last time he asked advice in this type of setting, it set him on the path towards Ana. Maybe this time Bobby’s advice is a little more direct.

Then we come to this still with Buck and Chris.

This is not an usual still between this two. This speaks of tension and Chris maybe mad about something. And Buck looks like he’s trying to explain something. (Lyn’s color theory works well with this). Maybe he tries to explain why he hasn’t been around and tries to apologize for not being there.

It also relates back to Chris almost losing Buck. This kid has been through a lot but Buck has been a constant figure in his life for years now and Buck promised he would always be there.

So if it seems like Buck broke the promise and Chris is possibly taking it out on Eddie and Eddie is at a loss, then Buck finally gets it through his head that he doesn’t have to step back.

And he tries to talk to Chris about why he wasn’t around.

Obviously they all need to just talk to each other. Especially about the shooting, the will and the lightning strike.

Lastly we have this still. (I’m on Team Buck here)

Maybe before the Chris and Buck still or after, Eddie finally caves and tries to let Buck know he is wanted and can come around whenever.

This should grab is also reminiscent of Eddie telling Buck there is no one he trusts more with Chris. It echoes the same exact feeling of “You are my family no matter what. You’re part of Christopher’s family no matter what.”

Despite the redemption of shitty parents in season 6, I hope Tim really gives us the found family feels we fell in love with. More so with the Buckley-Diaz family and how much Eddie has invited Buck into his and his son’s life from basically day 1. (Ok like day 7 but I digress).

I don’t think Buck is gonna allow Christopher to be injured physically. I think it’s going to play out in emotionally injured way because he would accidentally do that again.

And for the love of God, go to therapy.

#911 spoilers #eddie diaz #evan buckley #buddie #911 #christopher diaz #911 abc #I had angsty thoughts yall and it was gonna ruminate in my brain #ok maybe now I can sleep

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slothgiirl · 1 year

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nesting (xiao x reader)

1.5k. established relationship. fluff. suggestive but nothing explicit.bird xiao traits tho i didnt lean hard enough into it i dont think so mb ill try again soon.

The first time it happens there’s frost on the ground when you wake up. You have to force the window open. The frost cracks. You wince, half expecting to have broken the window.

Cold air invades the already drafty flat at the top of Wangshu Inn.

You cross your arms over your chest. The cotton robe did little to protect from the start of the winter season. Snezhnaya did have a monopoly on snow. All too soon snow would cover the Liyue landscape. There were only a handful of snow days and the sun melted most of it away by noon, but you still shivered as the sun rose.

You strike the flint, restarting the fire in the wood stove. Xiao must have put it out accidentally. It was a common occurrence with his anemo fuelled comings and goings. You didn’t want to say anything, worried your lover would take it the wrong way. This was new. He’d only just asked you to move in with him.

You rub your hands together.

No, you would simply relight the fire.

Striking the flint again, you light the incense, dispelling any lingering demonic energies. The smell of herbs and resin was familiar by now. Xiao had taught you the ritual, the ancient Liyue words to recite, to keep yourself free of his taint.

You sigh.

You can see your breath.

The ink would have to be warmed for you to work.

You pull on your warmest trousers, think about purchasing some meters of wool from the Mondstadt traders to sew a warmer set, and set out a fresh new sheet of paper. Your calligraphy was well liked in Liyue Harbor. The smooth lines were auspicious for merchants most worried after Morax’s passing.

The ink was smooth liquid once more. Lately, your head has been filled with tales of Skybracer. You flip through your books, looking for a passage that speaks to you when a gust of wind enters the room atop Wangshu Inn.

“You’re back,” you smile, knowing it was Xiao. “I didn’t even feel you come in last night.”

“I did not want to disturb you,” your lover sets a knit blanket over your shoulders, “while I have little use for rest, I would not deprive you of sleep.” Xiao carefully places a flawless chunk of mystic ore on your desk. It sparkles in the early morning sun.

“It’s pretty.” You’d never use it to enhance anything. A gift from Xiao, you’d treasure it forever.

“The shine caught my eye,” Xiao admits, ducking his head down, “was your sleep undisturbed?” He worried his nightmares would leak into your dreams.

“I still think you could’ve woken me up.” You snort when he traces the marks on your collar bones. “We mortals can take naps Adeptus Xiao,” you tease, raking your fingers through his hair. “And I never mind when it’s you.”

Xiao scowls, “who else would it be?”

You kiss his jaw, “my alarm clock.” You set your work aside, focusing the sum of your attention on your lover. “Where did you get this,” you ask, feeling the heft of the cotton used, the intricate knit. All knits were intercrate when you’d given up on knitting entirely.

“Do you like it,” he asks softly, taking your hands in his.

“Mhm.” You plant a kiss against his brow.

“The surge in demonic activity in Cuijue Slope has coincided with an increase in temple offerings,” Xiao explains. “Given the change in weather. . .” he trails off.

“Are you staying long,” you ask, wrapping your arms around his neck, intent on keeping him to yourself. You had gone far in teaching Xiao the benefits of cuddling even if he didn’t need to sleep.

“No.” Xiao’s amber eyes met yours. He wraps his arm around your waist.

“Mm,” you smile, knowing you’d won. Then you kiss him, welcoming the warmth of his lips against yours.

You help Verr Goldet spread salt all along the ramp up to Wangshu Inn. The bags of salt were heavy and it was hard not to feel like a freeloader when you didn’t know the specifics of Xiao’s arrangement with the Innkeeper and her husband.

“There,” Verr Goldet wipes her hands on her apron, “that should do it.”

“I’d hate to fall from this far up,” you look over the railing. The frost took longer and longer to melt with each passing day.

“It’s a good thing the Traveler took up our commissions to fix the stairs,” the woman agrees. “Smiley Yanxiao made chicken and dumpling soup if you’d like a bowl.”

“You are too kind Auntie,” you address her warmly. Everything else felt too cold, this was the best form of address for her you decide on.

“Come now, you just helped me lug salt up and down five stories. That’s at least worth soup. It’d have to pay 10,000 mora for the adventure’s guild to do it.”

“Well,” you laugh, “when you put it that way.”

You have dinner with the staff of Wangshu Inn. It’s past midnight when you finally make your way up to your home. Your home with Xiao. You have to take a deep breath when you linger on that for too long, waiting outside your door because it was true and your heart felt like it wanted to explode from happiness. Your’s and Xiao’s home.

You step inside.

It wasn’t anything special. You doubted the most pious of Liyue imagined an Adeptus to reside in a studio cluttered with jars of ink, a tiny stove, and your clothes carelessly tossed into a pile on the trunk, and yet there Xiao was, fluffing up pillows on the bed in a simple act of domesticity that had you swooning. His spear was set against the wall, Yaksha mask on his belt and he was arranging the blankets that had seemingly appeared out of thin air.

“Hey,” you set your shoes by the door, changing into your house slippers. “have you been waiting long?”

Xiao shakes his head, focused on arranging the pillows. “I do not mind. My duties are solitary in nature.”

You feed more wood into the stove. The thing was well built, filling the room despite being the size of your night stand.

“Will you join me,” Xiao sits up in bed on his knees, red dusting his cheeks. He could be so bashful for an adeptus that regularly slayed demons. You loved the fact the he flustered easily even when he’d fucked you on the grass.

“I’d love to,” you hang up your jacket, “will you stay with me?”

He doesn’t answer right away, waiting for you to crawl into bed with him.

You discard your sweater and trousers, adding more to the pile on your trunk. Laundry day was fast approaching. “Do you want me to make you anything to eat?”

Xiao shakes his head. “There’s no need.”

You slide under the covers, sighing against the plush blankets. There were furs at the foot of the bed that your toes grazed when you stretched out. The pillow covers must be silk you think, tapping Xiao’s arm, “lay down with me.”

He lays down next to you, cupping your cheek with his hand. “I am glad you are here.”

“So will you stay?” There’s so much raw love and fondness for you in Xiao’s eyes as you stroke your hands over his chest, feeling up his muscular arms. You wanted nothing more than to feel his naked body against yours. You wanted Xiao, wanted to feel him inside you.

“Mm,” Xiao tips your chin back, kissing the side of your throat. “That was my intention when I asked you to lay with me.”

Your body flushes with heat. You doubt Xiao said the innuendo intentionally, but you don't care when he nips your bottom lip with his teeth.

You’re greedy.

You kiss him back readily, pulling his body flush against yours, canting your hips, rubbing against his leg shamelessly. You kiss him, stroking his tongue with yours.

Xiao leans back, all puffed up, pleased in a way that’s new to you.

You lay your head back, catching your breath, already thinking of new ways to entice him to lay with you. To fuck you. To make love to you, whatever so long as it meant having Xiao.

“That can’t be comfortable,” you pull on his gloves, “to sleep in,” you allude to his usual warrior’s gear.

“Your intentions are transparent,” Xiao huffs, sliding his thigh between your legs and you know that he’ll spend the next few hours making love to you.

You slip your hand under his shirt, “I love you.”

“As I love you,” he whispers softly against your cheek.

Xiao hangs crystal cores from the ceiling.

They twinkle in the night like your own private stars.

Xiao sets chunks of Cor Lapis and Noctilucous Jade on the windowsill as if jewelers didn’t pay a small fortune for raw gemstone this pristine. There’s slices of bright blue crystal chunk on the wall next to your line paintings that alchemists would covet for their potions.

But it doesn’t click for you until you leaf through a book on Dihua Marsh, painting abstract cranes for practice on brown recycled paper. It doesn’t click for you until you read the description on the finches and their nests that you remember what type of illuminated beast Xiao is.

#bird xiao #xiao x reader #genshin xiao #xiao x y/n #xiao x you #nesting #aka xiao basically going my so moved in and now i must make a nest worthy of them #i wanna say gender neutral but idk i think it can be femme coded

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grapejuicestyless · 4 months

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i have had this idea for so long, but i really think you could do this justice. sort of like the film the holiday!!! but not really set in Christmas and more so through the seasons. harry moves out of the city (doesn’t need to be a singer and could just be a CEO) into a small village in a lovely cottage where all of the furniture is mismatched and there’s sash windows which are always open. He’s there for a few months before he starts to feel lonely so decides to bring in a lodger! He hand makes posters and puts them on the village hall board and … he finally gets a taker! It’s a quirky girl who is totally all over the place and she moves in .. the seasons change and so does their relationship.. friends to lovers OR ACTUALLY maybe it could be so interesting for it to be enemies to lovers! That could be fun to write. But idk I’ve been thinking about it for so long !!! They could organise a dinner party for friends one night or maybe Harry goes away to the city for a meeting and that’s where y/n realises how much she misses him / likes him. Definitely has to be fluffy but also needs to have some drama. I haven’t figured that out yet 😭😭😭 I’m so sorry for this really long rambly post but I wanted to give u as much of my brain as possible lol. I would LOVE LOVE LOVE to see what you would do with this / if it’s something you’re even interested in. Have a gorgeous evening / day / morning xxx love you!!💖💖💖💖💖

Bad People

Harry Styles x fem!reader

Summery: Harry and Y/n met by pure luck. Sharing secrets and laughing like little kids, ribs and cheeks hurting. Y/n is sure Harry is destined to be in her life forever. She’s just not sure when that became a bad thing.

FLANGST/FRIENDS TO ENEMIES TO LOVERS

The pale blue sky looked gray from certain windows. The glass was cracked and the stove stained with boiled over soup broth and old sprinklings of spices.

The birds sang solemnly, humming the tune to what I believed sounded like something you’d hear at a funeral. Here, the pavement was cracked and the stars were consistently covered with clouds. Snow, more often than not, fell heavily. From October to April. The nearby ocean nearly always too cold to swim in. The backyard pool cold and clean, still with nobody to inhabit it.

All the beauty ripped from the earth, and replaced with another kind of it. I wouldn’t mind it half as much, if I had someone to enjoy the snow with. To enjoy the polar plunges, the visible breath and numb fingers.

Like old times sake, snowmen and snowball fights. Sledding or fort making. Rosy cheeks and icy hair a memory of the past. Cheeks hurting from smiles, not the winter chill.

The laughter of my mother was long gone, and my brother outgrew his desire for a sibling as soon as he turned sixteen. Few friends, not any at least, that would enjoy the activities the white powder offered.

So now, I look out the window, nursing a glass of wine propped up on the windowsill. I don’t see the snow day ahead or pray for a white Christmas. I pray that one day, I’ll find someone to enjoy it with me. To soothe the pain little eight year old me suffered with the absence of her father, her distant mother and her selfish brother.

“Looking at it won’t make it fall any faster, Y/n.” The puff of air coming from my nose fogs up to cool glass, and my fingers leave prints along the center.

He’s not looking at me, he rarely does when we aren’t fighting. It’s like I disgust him. I feel like a fool every god damn time.

“Have you always naturally been an asshole or did you grow into it?” I don’t look at him, but I feel his gaze settle on my reflection in the glass. His voice alone urges me to take a large drink from the wine glass. The ruby red staining my top lip. I spread it around and taste the bitterness of it on my tongue.

He begins to leave, almost succeeding without a passing glance, but biting his tongue is something Harry nor I have ever been able to do. So it’s natural how he goes for the last word.

“Theres only so much wine, Y/n.” He teases. I down the rest while he walks away. The sigh that leaves my mouth after I feel the ghost of him leaving me isn’t only for air, but because suddenly the room feels lighter.

It’s funny, how someone so special can leave such a disgusting taste in your mouth. Hatred doesn’t just happen. It creeps, seeps, saturates. It’s a pesky little thing that starts small until finally you can’t ignore how bothered you are. It’s vile and cruel. A poisonous little thing that no one is immune to. It’s a sad yet funny thing. To remember that it wasn’t always like this. I didn’t always hate my old friend, bounded to me through the home we share. I once enjoyed the company of Harry styles.

It was nearly a year since I’d moved in. A year since the slow turned to thick ice and roads became bare with people too afraid to try and navigate through the harsh winter.

Nearly a year since I first saw the house at the end of the road, with a neat front lawn and a tree with hanging branches ready to snap.

A red scarf and red mittens is what I wore. With a faded brown coat and worn blue jeans. A hat on top of my head and a journal tucked underneath my arm. He had the greenest eyes I had ever seen. The stars in the night sky didn’t quite shine as bright as his eyes, I swore it to myself.

He had an english accent, one that I wasn’t familiar with. Peach fuzz and dark chocolate curls a mess on his head. When I told him my job, he laughed, but something about his shocked expression after told me he didn’t mean it cruelly. Rather, that he was shocked, or just piecing the puzzle together.

“I’m my mother’s daughter.” I told him, “She always had a thing for poetry. The sappy ones with the tragic endings. I got it from her and I’m damn good at it.” I smiled at him then, and he smiled back bigger.

“It’s just funny. Moving somewhere so quiet for a job all about fantasy and adventure.” He explained, already guiding the two of us through the wide doorway. I set my boots in the old entryway which it seemed he had turned into a mud room. I admired the shade of green on the wall and nodded along. My cheeks hurt from smiling.

That night, while settling into my new space, I shared with him my life. My goals and dreams. With his toothy smile and boyish eyes, he made it so easy to trust him. I sat on my newly made bed and he sat in my spinning chair by my desk. Moving it back and forth, swaying slowly. A cigarette started dangling from his pocket, I still remember the way he took it between his thumb and his index finger. Rolling it around, debating whether or not to light it. It was like he didn’t know he had it.

“I didn’t take you for a smoker.” I laughed at him, he laughed back. Shy almost, only looking at me for a moment.

“M’not. A few here and there. Helps to wind down.” When he ran his hand through his hair, I remember seeing all his rings. A rose and two with his initials. One looked like a lion. That one was my favorite.

Other than his charming smile and infectious laughter, I knew nothing of him, I had come to realize. Here he was, knowing about my family and friends. My job and my hobbies. All I had asked him was his name.

When I asked him, he was just as talkative as I was. A sparkle in his eyes when he talked about his job. I remember specifically, how they lit up extra bright when he mentioned his mother, Anne, and his older sister, Gemma. I learned about his job too. Harry had everything he could ever truly want. The money, the power, the glory. His office at the top floor overlooking the bustling city that never sleeps. Families dancing around the square and traffic backed up into the city line.

The sad thing was, that even with all this pride he got to carry with his reputation, the city was no home to him. The summer held no comfort. Not the same now that he was long out of school. The heat was simply uncomfortable. His lavish suit sticking to his skin. Even the air conditioner couldn’t soothe the pounding of his head against the strong New York heat.

His nose stung in the summer. The warmer it got, the worse it smelled. Garbage littering the streets no longer covered by thick snow. Tourists and their children filling up all his favorite places of relaxation. Each carrying their own scent from home. The calming pine from the North or the tangy citrus of the west coast.

Harry felt no true love for his home anymore. No real attachment. There was no smell of home, and there certainly wasn’t any old faces with their gravelly voices and thick accents. If it weren’t for the business there, he would’ve fled somewhere else long ago. Somewhere quieter. Somewhere that felt like home. If he could, he would have tucked himself back into the small home his mother raised him and his sister in. He would’ve curled up happily in his twin bed and looked out the same crooked window each night and feel happy with only that.

He tells me that when he got in the car waiting for him at the airport, he was tempted to tell the driver to take him home, to see if it would make him smile. He’d seen the gag used in all the old rom-coms he and his mother used to watch. The short blonde running from the love of her life only to be led back into his arms. But Harry know’s better. He tells me so. So when the driver asks him where to, he tells him the address.

He told me about his work life. How there was a branch out in the UK. The one that started it all. And as his success grew, so did his aspirations and his needs. London no longer provided him with the luxury and opportunity that New York could. So he swapped out his office for a penthouse and acted like the smell of burning garbage and mysterious wet spots on the sidewalks didn’t bother him.

It’s a vicious cycle. To outgrow, to long for, to move, to hate all over again. Thats how he decided that London has just what he needed. His business within reach and smaller towns surrounding its borders.

“And what about now? Are you happy?” Harry crinkled his eyes then, smiling a nodding along. He didn’t even mind it then, when I would interrupt. In fact, he welcomed it. Claimed he loved hearing me talk.

I agreed with him when he said that the grass is greener down here. The stars are just that much brighter and theres not a single car honking their horn past nine. All things that left him feeling a whole lot calmer than the chaos of the city.

Here, Harry told me he didn’t mind not living in a lavish penthouse just a few blocks away from his work. Here, he was hours away from the city. He stays in a medium sized cape cod styled house, pre-decorated from the past owners who didn’t care to take their things when they left for something bigger. It sticks out from the rest of the homes nearby. He wonders how something so different ended up within the same area. And he smiled and sat on the floor when I laughed and told him he’d already lived quite the life for a nearly-thirty year old man.

When silence took over after over an hour long conversation, I bit at my nails and looked at the floor. Suddenly, it came to me.

“Harry?” I had asked. He hummed, looking at me. Even if I hadn’t looked back, I could still feel his eyes on mine. “What made you want a roommate?” When my eyes flickered up to his, I saw no hate, or disgust, or shame. Nothing that I am familiar with now in Harry’s eyes. I saw curiosity, warmth and happiness.

“I like the quiet. I like being able to sleep without someone yelling down the hallway. I like how green it is over here.” I nodded, waiting for him to continue. “But the quiet get’s lonely. And while I like the quiet, I hate being alone.” And it made me smile back then. Maybe it still does thinking about it know. He had been helping me in finding a home, some place warm to stay. Meanwhile, I had been able to give back. Give him what he wanted. At the time, my heart warmed.

For a long time after that, Harry made my heart beat fiercely. He brought me flowers and made us pancakes. Freshly picked blueberries from the local market. He cracked jokes and I repeated them back between our broken laughter, imitating his english accent.

He was a charming man, with an energy that invited and kept you drawn to him. Everyone wanted to be around Harry. The men and the women. Always wanting a piece of the pie. I felt rich in life, that while others had to work for a lifelong friendship with him, naturally, we fit together. We worked.

He entered my life by some kind of coincidence. I needed a place to stay and he was offering a room up.

When he brushed his thumb over my knuckles and kissed the skin, I believed we would be like this forever. Just the two of us.

When he whispered to me that he loved me that same night, I thought it was something he would never take back. Something that would never change. His warm breath and glistening eyes. He was red and shiny. A bottle of the cheap champagne sat on the table and an empty glass beside him. I let his lips trail around my hand and laugh at his antics.

“Harry.” I mumbled into the darkness, he doesn’t move. I silently giggle again after he puffs air out of his own nose onto my hand playfully. His shoulders shake with his own fits of laughter, “Harry.” I call out again, and my eyes are met with his dazzling emerald ones. I almost got lost, forgot how to talk looking at him.

My palms were sweaty with nervousness then. My heart beating out of my chest. I wanted more than anything to tell him everything. As a poet, it should have been easy to put my thoughts out in the open air. But they hadn’t sat within me for long enough to curate a straight forward answer.

How would I even manage to start on how beautiful I thought his brown hair was? Perfectly colored like milk chocolate treats that curled over his forehead. Or his toothy grin which pulled butterflies from the pit of my stomach and made me feel lighter? I couldn’t find just one thing to focus on. And the words that came out of my mouth tumbled out quickly.

“You’re my best friend.” I hoped that he would’ve been able to see how much love I held for him in my face. How even in the dim lighting of only the fireplace and the fading lamp in the corner, he could see how they sparkled just for him.

He pulled his hand away after that, clearing his throat and nodding. But he smiled so softly after that I didn’t see how his eyes welled up with tears. I only saw his perfectly pink lips and his rosy cheeks. For once, I wasn’t focused on his eyes, and I paid the price.

He never made pancakes for us after that night. Nor did he ever pick flowers from the fields or crack jokes until our stomachs hurt. My hand was never slotted between his and my head didn’t rest on top of his shoulders. His was colder, more distant. Quiet.

But the quiet grew old for us both. And the slipping away hurt more than anything I’d ever experienced. I was everyone else in his life. Fighting for a spot in the light so he would see me, smile at me, acknowledge me.

Part of me wondered why he never asked me to leave. To pack my bags and find another innocent man to love because he wouldn’t tolerate it anymore. But he never did. Harry hated being alone and I knew better than anyone else. I knew it because I was his best friend at some point. We shared the same breaths and drank from the same glasses. I wore his shirts and he used my hair clips. He kept me around not because he still wanted me, but because he still needed me. And the realization of it all hurts worse than the silence because it’s then I know that I’ve really lost him. It leaves me with the question, ‘What have I done to deserve this?’

I think back on that night when our world shifted on its axis and I go over every word that was said. I check for any signs of discomfort or anger and I find nothing. It plagues me with a new insecurity.

Maybe it wasn’t something I’d said, maybe it wasn’t something I’d done. Maybe the warmth from the champagne grew cold in his blood and the false euphoria from it all cleared from his peripheral vision and he realized that I was no longer enough. I was not what he wanted. The idea of his roommate becoming his only friend too pathetic for a man with such power.

Soon after, I stop putting up a fight. I stop fighting for a spot in his life and I stop trying to win back a man that was never mine. I figured at least if he could never be mine and I would never be his, at least I still got to see his pretty face everyday. And I could imagine that we never drifted.

I wake in the night, I pace like a ghost. The tears running down my cheeks are hot, burning my skin until my throat dully aches and my chest is red with flakes of nail polish and the dragging of my nails clawing at my chest.

I am sobbing, broken and tired. I dream of a life that is not as miserable. I dream of a life where I no longer doubt the things I love. Where I don’t have to question my friend’s loyalty.

He knocks on my door, leaning against it in only his flannel pants. He has tattoos that compliment his skin so well. He looks like a painting. I’m relieved to see him again. Even if it’s under these circumstances.

I wait for him to speak, even if it’s merely a mumble. Even if I cannot understand.

“Can you stop crying? I can’t sleep.” He requests. My lips part and I swear my lungs collapse within my chest. I can’t breathe and somehow I remain composed.

“Okay.” I say quietly, nodding along and trying to find his eyes. They look at the floor, and his face is contorted like it pained him to say that to me. Like it was against his will. But he doesn’t even look at me.

When he leaves, I collapse, shoulder shaking with rage, sadness, confusion instead of the contagious laughter that once rang out through the halls.

I decide then, July moon shining through the sash windows of my room that I couldn’t continue holding onto Harry. My heart still beats for him and my eyes still sparkled when his own lingered for just a moment longer on me, but I couldn’t like him.

Hatred doesn’t just happen. It creeps, seeps, saturates. It’s a pesky little thing that starts small until finally you can’t ignore how bothered you are. It’s vile and cruel. A poisonous little thing that no one is immune to. It’s a sad yet funny thing.

After that night, his selfish wishes turn to bitter comments which turn to vicious attacks at my confidence. And my resilience and devotion to silence, to ignore the cruelty of it all is worn thin. My bitten tongue is freed and I am betrayed by my own words. My own comments targeted at his deepest hurts. It’s a mutual hate between us, a mutual dislike.

We live within the same four walls, the same windows and creaky roof over our heads. We cook in the same kitchen and we sit on the same couch, but we cannot stand each other anymore. The house is no longer filled with love, and the warm heat turns to bitter cold. And yet, neither of us have the guts to leave.

We sit here, in a life thats so mean to us just because we are afraid of the loneliness that is surely to come with the other’s absence.

We are here, but we aren’t present. It makes me laugh, it makes me wonder.

Who could ever leave me? But who could stay?

The candles burned down to the floor, wax melting over the wood as the lights set a warm, homely mood for the night. The late December rush throughout the town turned to the few and far between searching for last minute supplies to ring in the new year. It’s peacefully still outside, and the dining room looks so nice I forget why the candles burn and our nicest plates are set out.

Harry insisted on having a small gathering with some of our friends to celebrate the new year before he went away for sometime for work. Being roommates, despite our lack of interest in establishing our own friendship, his friends become my friends and mine become his. It’s a fairly large group that was once two. But have now become so closely intertwined that it seems hard to differentiate who was friends with who first.

There was wine, pastas and breads. Hams and potatoes. Drinks and endless desserts. It felt nice, to have all those people we cared so deeply about chip in and help to create such a lovely meal for the few of us.

Hearing that first doorbell ring to see all of our friends stood proudly on our crooked doorstep made my heart flutter. Sarah, Mitch, Pauli, Elin, Charlotte, Nyoh. All holding various foods to add to the never ending supply on the multiple tables set in a row.

“Harry! Y/n!” The enthusiasm from our friends seemed to lighten the mood, letting the heavy feeling of heated arguments and constant anger slip down my back and into the farthest part of my brain.

It was times like these where I’d forget how to hate. How to spread anger and disgust to someone who clearly showed none of it in return in these times. Here, Harry was talkative. Always plastering on a fake smile and wave.

He was good at pretending. And while the walls of the house had seen a different story, those around us were innocent, forever unknowing of how Harry constantly belittled me, bothered me. Of how I was no better. How my tongue was sharp and my words shot to kill.

Nobody minded the difference in height of the dinning room table against the kitchen table. How one was round and the other a rectangle. Both covered by one long table cloth. Nobody minded the soft music in the background or how the light wasn’t the brightest. The soft flickers never mentioned.

We let the candles burn until they had nothing left to give, and we ate until it was bare and our stomachs hurt. Here, I never felt like I was trapped. Here, I remembered by I came to live with Harry in the first place. And I was thankful. It was times like these I couldn’t help smiling like an idiot. Cheeks sore and eyes crinkling. I would laugh at just about anything, trust anyone and agree with everything.

“When are you going to tell him?” An elbow to the ribs pulled my gaze from the end of the table, my smile dropping for only a moment at the sudden shock.

“Sorry?” I mumbled softly into Sarah’s ear. Her eyes glimmered with something mischievous, like she knew something that I didn’t. She licked her pink lips and looked briefly back to the end of the table. All the way over by the dining table, sat a few feet away and a couple inches higher, was Harry. Laughing and talking with Pauli and Elin about anything and everything. I couldn’t quite make it out over the soft chatter of Mitch and Charlotte and the clinking of forks on plates.

“Harry!” She called softly. When my eyebrows furrowed she rolled her eyes, sighing heavily.

“I don’t get it.” Forking another bite of vegetables into my mouth, I watched her fight for the right words to say. Her lips finally settling on the soft smile I knew very well.

“Don’t play dumb, Y/n. I know that look. Better than anyone. Thats how I look at Mitch.” She playfully nudged my shoulder. Did she believe that I held any romantic feelings for Harry? I couldn’t, it was impossible. Right?

His rude remarks and his mean demeanor. Sure, at one point my heart beat for the brunette with an infectious smile and shiny green eyes, but now it was a memory of the past. Another pretty face who had thrown away all of his charm and care and exchanged with unwavering cruelty.

“Oh, no. Sarah, I don’t think about him that way.” I tried to wave her off, trying to sound the least amount disgusted by her assumption. I couldn’t help but wonder why she thought that.

“I don’t believe you.” She sounded smug, crossing her hands on my thigh and giggling. “You don’t have to. I believe myself.” Brushing her off, I take another bite of any remaining scraps on my plate. Trying to avoid conversation.

“Come on, you seriously don’t see it?” She sounded exasperated now, even more so when I nodded carelessly. She was getting tired of my avoidance to the conversation, my disinterest in her false discovery. Still, the longer she pushed, the more I felt the heat rush to my face. The more my cheeks burned and my skin tingled.

“I’m serious, Sarah. I don’t look at him in anyway. He’s just my roommate. Nothing more, nothing less.” I lean back, volume brought down to a mere whisper with the dying laugher at the other end of the table.

“Well, he’s your friend at least, right?” The lump in my throat was unswallowable. With the growing tightness in my throat and the clamminess of my palms. I wanted nothing more than to slip away and pretend this never happened. So, I bite my tongue and nod, eyes flickering to Sarah while I do so. I pray that she doesn’t see the tears welling in the corners and how glossy they’ve gotten in such a short period of time.

“Yeah, he’s my best friend.” The lie stings, burning as it comes out. Partially because I hate lying to my dear Sarah, but mainly because at some point it was the truth.

Harry was my everything at one point in my life. He might as well have hung the damn moon and stars. I thought the world of him, wanted nothing more than to feel his arms wrapped around mine all the damn time. And it killed me that we’d gotten so far away from that idea that I had to lie about even being acquainted with him.

“Word of advice.” She started, eyeing Harry carefully. My eyes remained glued to the table, fork wobbling between my pointer finger and my thumb. “Best friends don’t look at each other that way.” And when she finished what she wanted to say, I swear my heart just about stopped. All color draining from my face and my eyes rapidly blinking away the tears by now.

Setting my fork down, I ignore her playful smile and the nudge of her shoulder into mine. I look for another face to converse with, to make me begin to forget everything I was trying so desperately to escape. When I search the table, it seems like each person has found themselves in deep conversation with the other. All but one.

And his green eyes capture mine in a way I haven’t known in so long. I’d forgotten what it was like to be the center of his gaze. How thrilling it was. With my eyes, glossed over and heart beating through my chest, it seemed impossible for me to ever consider looking away. His chocolate brown curls and sweet pink lips in a gentle smile. It was consuming and alluring. Irresistible even.

A face that once disgusted me, shattered my heart, angered me and knocked me down with no air left to breathe seemed not all that frightening anymore. And the warmth that spread in my chest scared me more than anything.

I begin to realize, maybe Sarah was right. Maybe that was why I hated him so much. I didn’t hate Harry Styles. And thats why it hurt just that much more. I didn’t hate him at all, in fact. No, rather my poor heart couldn’t handle the heartbreak and deflected in the most malicious way possible. I missed my best friend.

“Y/n.” Sarahs voice pulls me from my haze, and my eyes are flickering over to hers quickly. Lips still parted and eyes still wide.

“You’re crying.” I hadn’t felt the salty heat dripping down my cheeks until she announced it. My skin too numb from embarrassment to even understand what was happening.

My tongue is tied, and my throat is killing me. I feel like I might vomit if I stay here any longer. I can’t be here any longer, I can’t do it. Not when I’ve just realized what I did. I feel what I felt all those months ago when Harry told me to stop crying. When he shut me out for good and became bitter. I feel all air leave my lungs and my knees wobbling. I am going to collapse.

“I just need air.” I say all too loudly, pushing out the chair clumsily and stepping back. The loud scratch of the wooden legs of the wooden floors turns heads and my heavy breathing tells me to get the hell out.

I pardon myself after that, waving off any concern from Sarah, and making sure nobody else saw my escape. Everyone’s still deep into conversation when I turn the corner. All but Sarah and Harry. But neither of them make a move to reach me. I let myself collapse on my bed, mascara running down my white sheets and back aching from how stiff I became at that table. I silently pray that I’ll sleep through the rest of winter.

When the dinner got cold and we’d all run out of things to say, we all look around and silently agree to part ways. It was nice to have some company, I enjoyed being around these people so much. My heart should have been full, yet it felt heavy and empty all at the same time. Littered with a guilt I wasn’t even sure was mine.

I’d seen the way she looked at me. Really looked at me. Glossed over eyes and a quivering lip. She was red with the rush of adrenaline in her blood. Anyone could see how quickly she began to breathe. It was like she was stuck, consumed by something so strong that it left her powerless, weak, crumbling quickly under an undetermined pressure. She started to cry, biting back a sob by biting harshly into her bottom lip, eyes shaking while she searched my face. I couldn’t help but wonder what had happened. Who had said what, and how I could help her.

I wanted to yell at whoever hurt her this bad. And the feeling of that in itself was unsettling. How my heart still longed to comfort, protect the heart of the girl who once shattered my own with her own words. More than that, I wanted to scream when nobody followed her when she ran. How nobody cared nearly enough about why she was so upset.

I couldn’t understand why I was so invested in her. Someone I was sworn to hate. Someone I had teased and fought for months and let hurt me constantly in retaliation.

But then again, we were no better than one another. We never were. Always saying too little and not opening up quite enough. Creating issues instead of solving problems. We were explosive, nobody could hurt me quite like she could and yet, I felt horrible that she was so upset.

Like the day I’d found her pacing restlessly across the floor. Skin blotchy and eyes puffy with tears. Throat sore with the violent sobs ripping through them. I’d wanted to hold her then too, but I was too bitter to do anything but tell her to quiet down. I felt the same guilt in my bones. And I make the same mistakes I made the first time. I watch her break down and sit with the uneasiness of it all.

Mitch lays a hand over my shoulder, his other arm wrapped around Sarah as he leads her through the door. His eyes look sad and tired. But his smile is genuine and filled with concern.

“Check on Y/n for us okay? Sarah thought it would be best to leave her be for now.” His hand left my shoulder and the door shut quickly after. Leaving me with the unbearable silence and loneliness I felt so frequently nowadays. It breaks down my walls and scares the shit out of me.

Maybe thats why I make my way to the kitchen, shuffling slowly along the floors and leaning slowly over the makeshift tables. A bottle of rouge in one hand, a pack of cigarettes in the other. I stuff them in my pocket and hold the bottle close to my side.

I’m slow, delaying the inevitable question. When I knock on the door, it’s quiet. Almost like I’m hoping that if it’s soft enough, she won’t hear and I can pretend she was ignoring me. But, she does hear me, and she calls out a raspy, muffled welcome, signaling for whoever was hidden behind the door to come through and take in her puffy eyes and wet cheeks.

My throat tightens when I smell her perfume. Something that I would have drowned in not so long ago. She has clothes thrown on a chair in the corner, the same one I sat in so many months ago. I’m tempted to push them off and just sit in the silence with her like we once enjoyed doing.

Her head is in her pillow and her arms are underneath her. She is unaware of who she has let in, but her silence and unmoving body tells me she’s lost all ability to care. I want to leave. I want to turn around and convince myself it was all a mistake. I’d checked on her and she was still alive and well. I’d done my part and I could go on guilt free and forget about how crushed she’d looked just hours before.

When I begin to turn on my heels and pray for this day to be over, I see something unforgettable. A small Polaroid from last year. Just weeks after she’d moved in and charmed me with her beauty and whit. She’s sat with her legs over my lap and my arms around her body. We couldn’t be any happier, and the memory makes my chest sting.

She still cared enough to keep up the old memories of us, even after all the fights and mean glares. Why did she have to keep the damn photo up?

Guilt consumes me once again, and I am faced with the sad woman in front of me, still in the same place as before and just as sad as before. My feet betray my mind, and soon I am stood beside her bedside table with a bottle of wine dangling between my pointer finger and my middle finger.

The glass knocks against her shoulder in a silent invitation. My eyes wordlessly asking her to follow. Her eyes are red, and her lips still shake. She looks completely torn apart, desperate and distraught. Disheveled even. But for some reason in my blurry head, all I can think about is how absolutely beautiful she is in the pale moonlight.

“Come on.” I ask her softly, offering her my hand. When she takes it, she’s nodding already. Trusting a man who deserves no second chances, no trust whatsoever for his cruelty and his inability to communicate. But she follows regardless.

I can’t help but realize how having her so close feels good.

He lights the cigarette for me and watches as I let it burn. My lips twitch as they wrap around the end, tasting the bitterness of its contents and the dry paper.

“How did we end up here?” I ask him, looking over the horizon. The waves are calming over here. They almost silence the ringing in my ears, despite the distance between where we sit, feet dangling over the empty pool edge and the large grass behind it.

He shrugs, snagging the cigarette from my hand delicately and taking a long drag from its end. We swap, my hands wrap around the neck of the wine bottle. It’s tinted green and nearly full.

“Unlucky people, I guess.” He looks at his feet. They dangle in the pool beside mine. You can see just how close we are in the turquoise tint. How the lights make us look less vibrant.

“I wouldn’t consider us unlucky.” I look at the sky, and I can feel his eyes on my face. It makes me swallow, how intense his gaze is. It almost makes it feel that much more real.

“Why’s that?” He asks, twisting the bud out on the cement. It stains the freshly cleaned grey stone an ashy black, but I bite my tongue.

“We had each other. Maybe we aren’t the best people, maybe we’re cruel, but I’d rather argue than live in solitude, right? Company can’t be bought. Even the most painful of it. That’s something real. Something without a price. And we’ve got it.” And it’s true. We fight and we throw shit. We stain the walls and rip the curtains. We start fires and try to blame the other. We make a mess and make amends. But a house isn’t a home without someone to share it with. And at least if we had to suffer to get there, we got it.

“Thats some of your poet shit.” He laughs sadly into the silence, looking at his feet. I laugh along, though I can tell he was only half joking. Then, I let the silence wash back over us. Forgetting how we almost had a full conversation.

“I’m not a bad person. I don’t know why I’m so mean.” He says sincerely. It’s sudden too. I can tell from the rawness in his voice. How his eyes tear up and his lips quiver. His voice cracks. Our feet hang off the edge of the backyard. It’s a quiet life. Even now. With our fights and all the fraud. But it’s never a lonely life, and we only have each other to thank for it.

I want to tell him I know, and I’m so sure of it. I’ve seen the real him, we might just not mesh together. But we once had, and that fact alone holds me back. He takes the lack of response and an opportunity to excuse himself. Pulling his body up by the arms and grunting through the sliding back door. I sit alone in the backyard for hours, body curling up into itself and layers of clothing becoming less than enough after some more time.

“I know.” I whisper into the silence. I know he’s not a bad person, I know it so well and I am so certain of it. I knew Harry once. He’s loyal and kind and the smartest man I’d ever met. And I miss knowing him like that so much.

I thought for a second tonight, I’d gotten part of him back. And maybe I had, but he left so soon I couldn’t really tell all that well. He’s left me back in the silence, wondering what happened to us, and what will happen to us. Why he came to get me, and why he even bothered to open up to me. But he never gives me the time to properly ask, even if I planned to.

I ring in the New Year alone.

The next morning he’s gone. Back to New York for his business in the big city and I am left to sit and think about what was said. A half empty bottle of wine stained with my red lipstick and glitter on the floor from old party poppers Charlotte and Elin had made sure to use before making their exit. I repeat his words.

He’s not a bad person, so why is he so mean? It’s best left unknown. Because if theres one thing I fear more than anything, it’s the realization of rejection.

Even from a man I hate so entirely, it consumes me. That I could not stand to be faced with the fact that Harry and I do not get along simply because we do not work and not because of some other underlying reason.

After all, we had it all. Gave each other everything the other had wanted. Food, shelter, company. There was really so explanation for the bitterness between us.

After all, all this time, despite his anger and hatred, he never left me to the wolves. And despite my heartbreak and sadness, I never left him with an empty home.

A wise man once said to never bite the hand that feeds it. Yet, here we are. Ripping skin from bone until we are left with nothing. We are the ungrateful, the selfish, the cruel. And we both believe that we are in the right.

I am so scared of rejection from this man who I claim to hate because he is the hand that feeds me and I am the hand to him.

We aren’t bad people, so why are we so mean? We recognize all we have to be grateful for, so why do we bite the hand that feeds us?

I guess the vulnerability of it all must have scared us. And while facing the storm, we did what all people do. We let fear consume us and we bite.

Somehow, through all of this. The realizations and the tears and wine and dusty ashes, I love him. Even with my teeth sinking into his skin and his own in mine, drawing blood, I love him. I love Harry Styles. He is my best friend and I am his. That is why I am scared and that is why it hurts so bad. Not because I simply missed him, but rather because my heart was devoted to a man who did not want it.

My fingers fumble over the pad on the phone. I type up his phone number by heart and let it ring. He answers quickly, still waiting for his plane at the airport.

“Y/n?” I can hear the bustling crowds around him and the loud engines taking off from other terminals. I imagine he is plugging one of his ears and mentally cursing the noise for making it so hard to hear.

“Come home.” My breathing is unstable, and my hands run through my hair so much I create new tangles by my neck.

“What? No, Y/n, I have to go. People are expecting me.” He starts to explain how important this is for his business. How it would be so much simpler to be there rather than over a computer screen.

“Fuck them, who cares! Harry, I need you, and I want you, please just listen to me for once. Don’t scoff, or…or roll your eyes or leave! Listen to me this once and if it’s not worth it to you, I promise you’ll never have to listen to me again. Please, it’s important.” I ramble, endless pleas met with silence. I can feel the rejection coming, I can hear the way he chokes on a breath, debating what I said.

“Okay.” The phone goes dead with his promise to come home. With the continuous beeps, I slowly come to terms with what I’d just done. But I do not feel panicked, or scared. I feel lighter with the fact that I am about to tell the moody boy something I wished I told him a long time ago.

The door opens with a creak, keys jingling in his large palms. I’d spent the morning pacing the kitchen. Leaving a trail of confetti behind in my wake. I hadn’t cared enough to clean with my endless thoughts and extreme amounts of adrenaline.

“Y/n?” His voice was unsure when it rang out. As if he didn’t know what to expect. The door shut behind him not long before I came rushing around the corner, fingernails bitten to the skin and hangnails bleeding profusely.

“God, Y/n what the hell…” Taking my hands into his, he examined the redness of my irritated skin stained further with dry blood.

“I know.” I looked at him, and he looked back at me like I was crazy.

“What?” His thumbs bent over the backs of my palms, holding me in front of him.

“I know.” I breathed out again, looking at him with such sincerity, praying for him to understand. “You’re not a bad person, and I know it because I know you. Because we fight and we tease and we scream and cry. But I know you because once we didn’t do all of that. And I needed you to know that because it wasn’t fair of me to make you believe that to be true after everything you’ve done for me.” My voice shook with how vulnerable I felt myself becoming. Harry’s hands only tightened the further I explained.

“But what about all I’ve done to you. Y/n, I’ve been awful to you and I never even told you why.” He tried to argue. I shook my head, biting my lips.

“I haven’t been much better.” I smiled sadly. He shook his head back.

“No.”

“Yes.” I blinked hard, pushing back the tears that formed watching his own gather by his waterline.

“No, Y/n, I’ve been horrible. I’ve been mean.” He tried to push away everything I was trying to ignore.

“And so have I.” I tried harder to make him understand.

“But you only did it because I had. And for what?” He finally spoke, voice raised with so much desperation behind it, I froze under his touch.

“Because I loved you so much it drove me fucking insane? Because I still love you and I’m afraid if I can’t get you to hate me I’ll never be able to stop.” He was crying now, pleading with me to make me see his side of things. All I could do was shake my head.

“Harry I could never hate you.”

“But you could never love me.” He argued.

“Thats not true, Harry tell me you know that it couldn’t be true.” I rip my hands from his grip to rest them on his cheeks. I try to wipe away his tears, but his hands cover my wrists and pull them back down.

“How could I? You said it yourself. All those months ago, I told you. I held you close and I told you I loved you. You told me I was your best friend. You couldn’t even pretend!” Neither of us could tell if he was angry or just sad. Maybe both, but no amount of denial would calm him down.

“I didn’t have to, I still don’t have to pretend! Harry, I only said that because I was so fucking scared. Scared of us, of me, of you. Of losing you if it didn’t work. And I lost you anyways, I would’ve just said it if I knew I’d lose you like this.” Our chests bumped and his fingers slipped between mine.

“Y/n.” He whispered into the silence, over our heavy breathing and salty tears.

“I love you, and I miss you.” He didn’t say anything. I could feel him slipping away as soon as his response never came. Not a single word left to say between us. Not a single amount of energy left to fight.

And then he was kissing me. Hard and sweet. Like I was everything he’d ever wanted and more. Like he was hungry, needing more and more of something he had always wanted but could never have. And at the same time, it was soft and tender. Like he never wanted it to end. My back arched within the grip of his wandering hands and my fingers tangling in his curls. I swore I would never let him go.

But it was a swear I couldn’t keep, because air dwindled quickly and spit strung between our lips. Something I would usually gag at, but didn’t mind at the moment. His forehead against mine and arms gripping the fabric by my hips so tight if I moved he could have ripped it.

“I’m sorry.” He apologized in between his heaving breaths.

“Me too.” Looking at him, I could see the red staining his lips from the makeup I’d slept in. It made me laugh, which in result made him smile.

“What? What!” He laughed along cluelessly, letting me back away for a moment.

“You have something-“ I pointed again his mouth and smiled.

“Oh do I? Do I?” He kissed my cheek, smearing the remnants of our kiss across my cheek. “Still there?” He asked with a sly grin. Like he knew he was winning.

So I kissed him hard again, smearing red around his skin and his pink lips with so much love, there was no denying my feelings anymore. There was no hate left to give.

“Yeah, you do.” It was yet another fight, but not one I minded.

After all, thats what we did for so long, it was what we were good at. The teasing and the fighting. Only now it wasn’t bitter, it was playful. And we didn’t coexist with the sole purpose of it.

Because now I was his and he was mine. And this knowledge answered all my questions, all my doubts I’d had before about our relationship and our shared insecurities that led us down this scaring path.

Harry was my best friend, and I was his. And there was no love greater than that.

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