#( x. event: camping )

[rowdydevs]

“𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐩 𝐊𝐢𝐥𝐥” - 𝐀 𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 | 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏 𝐨𝐟 𝟑

+18 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓸𝓻 𝓓𝓝𝓘

𝙱𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚢𝙵𝚛𝚊𝚝!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝚂𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒: 𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 | 𝐆𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 | 𝐏𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞 | 𝐒𝐢𝐳𝐞 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤

*total fic is 15K - dropping daily

6.8K <- the first chapter is the longest 🩷

𝓇𝒶𝒻𝑒𝓎𝓈𝒸𝓊𝓇𝓉𝒶𝒾𝓃𝒷𝒶𝓃𝑔𝓈 𝓀𝒾𝓃𝓀𝓉𝑜𝒷𝑒𝓇 - 𝓌𝑒𝑒𝓀 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝑒𝑒

𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙/𝖘𝖈𝖍𝖊𝖉𝖚𝖑𝖊

⚠️warnings contain spoilers⚠️

Mean!Rafe, Bully!Rafe, bulling, Rafe is an ass, name calling, degredation, swearing, drinking, smoking, drug usage, kissing, praise, size kink, unprotected sex, oral (female receiving), oral (male receiving), rough oral, multiple orgasms, spanking, violence, fighting, ownership kink, pet names, multiple POVs, violence, gore, horror, stalking, blood mentioned, gaslighting, lovers to enemies to lovers, reader is quick to forgive, mentions of mutual masterbation, teasing, cheating, possessive Rafe, jealousy

*grammatical errors in the text chain are intentional

𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓑𝓪𝓬𝓴𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓻𝔂: Sweetheart!Reader isn’t from the OB. She met Kiara (roomate) at college and quickly became friends with the Pogues. The group decided to join the reader, working at Camp Salem which she attended every summer since she was little. After junior high she became a camp counselor herself. Sweetheart!Reader is just that, a sweetheart. She’s a lover-girl and quick to forgive. She’s hard to read regarding her sexual experience—her sweetness is irresistible to Rafe. He fantasizes about corrupting her and stripping her of that. Sweetheart!Reader wears her heart on her sleeve, making her the perfect target for her bully, Rafe Cameron.

𝓡𝓪𝓯𝓮’𝓼 𝓑𝓪𝓬𝓴𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓻𝔂: Canon-wise this Rafe is the closest to Season 1 Rafe. He is the definition of touch starved, touched but untouched, craving intimacy because it makes him feel better, even if it's just for a few moments. The only awful thing he did in his past in this AU is to be an asshole to the Pogues. He and the Kook trio are serving community service hours assigned from the university at Camp Salem after getting in trouble for something at the end of the last school year (undisclosed drinking violation). This being something they couldn’t pay their way out of.

Reader’s POV:

“I thought he was on archery duty,” Kie mumbles as you look down from the lifeguard tower on the 6’2” nightmare of a man strutting toward the water. He sets the whistle in his mouth, hands resting on his toned hips, his stupid backward cap on his perfectly quaffed head of hair. Rafe motherfucking Cameron.

“Him and JJ wouldn't stop arguing… Mrs. Mazie was worried one of them would…” You let your voice trail away as you mimic drawing the bow back, shooting and arrow straight at Rafe.

“Fair. That tracks,” Kiara laughs weakly—nothing surprising either of you anymore.

This is where I go to find peace. Where I go to make a little extra cash for the summer. Camp Salem is mine, and it always has been. Rafe’s whistle screams through the noise, making all heads turn to him just like he likes. Always and forever the center of attention. “No roughhousin’. Aight? I’m not gonna rescue your ass. If you drown, you drown,” he barks, fishing a fresh spliff out from behind his ear, replacing it with his whistle.

“What the hell is he doing?” You scoff in disbelief as he lights up a smoke in front of the kids. You hear a wolf whistle come from the woods. Rafe turns over his shoulder with a smile, ignoring the swimmers as he watches Kelce and Topper hike toward the shore with a cooler.

“What do you think’s in there?” Kiara groans, but you both know the answer. Beer.

“Rafe, are you kiddin-”

”Shut the fuck up,” he stops you before you can even start chewing him out, pointing his big fingers and lit joint up at you before taking another drag. “M’fuckin’ thirsty. Okay? It’s 100 fuckin’ degrees, princess. Have some goddamn compassion,” he taunts through a thick cloud of smoke, catching a beer as Kelce lofts it in the air, the brunette quickly cracking it open.

“Isn’t this the kinda shit that got him in trouble in the first place?” You backchat to Kie, catching Rafe’s ears as well.

“The fuck you talkin’ out of your ass for like you know me. Huh?” He spits.

“I was talkin’ to Kie.”

“If you've got shit to say, you can say it to my face... Ya know, scratch that. I vividly remember tellin’ you to shut the fuck up.” Your mouth falls open in disgust, the sour expression on your face making him smile smugly. “You hear me that time, or are you hard of hearin’, sweet cheeks?”

“Loud n’ clear,” you sigh and roll your eyes away, returning your attention to the water to do his job.

“Rafe,” Kelce calls out, taking a few steps back with the football. Rafe runs closer to shore, right in your line of sight, slamming the rest of his beer as he runs. He crushes the can in his fist before catching the ball, making the two boys whistle and cheer.

“Your can, Rafe,” Kiara scolds pointing to the litter wedged in the sand.

“Think you got it, Kie,” he taunts, leaving it behind for Kiara to clean up out of spite. She flips him the bird, crossing her arms tightly over her chest, grumbling something about him being a useless asshole.

Why is he so fucking awful?

𝐹𝓁𝒶𝓈𝒽𝒷𝒶𝒸𝓀…

"Do you know where you're going?" You whisper out of the corner of your mouth, grabbing the door for Kiara. The two of you press through the university doors, walking with the flow of traffic.

"No fuckin' clue," she chuckles. "I don't remember shit from orientation."

"Neither do I," you sigh, adjusting your book bag strap nervously.

"Hi, y/n." The sound of his voice sends you into a tailspin. Your breath hitches; heart, racing wildly.

Holy shit. Holy shit. Relax. Just relax. "Hi, Rafe," you smile, looking toward his deep voice, but he’s already down the hall, lost in a crowd of frat boys, vanishing behind the lecture hall doors.

"That was... Well... Umm-" Your roommate teases.

"Shut up-”

"Hard to watch," Kie continues mockingly. "You know… I know Rafe all too well. That's Sarah’s older brother. He’s a mess, y/n. A literal walking red flag: drug dealer, cliché frat boy douchebag, daddy issues up the ass, sex addict… A fuck boy, at the very least. Are you sure you even wanna mess with that?” She looks back at you in disdain that you even showed the slightest bit of attraction in the first place.

“All I said was ‘he was cute,’” you correct her, ambling toward the same lecture hall as Rafe, feeling your excitement rise.

"Yeah… Sure”

“What does that mean?” You scoff.

“You gave him “the eyes”,” she knocks. “You like him, which is fine, I guess… He’s just gonna be a fuckin’ problem for you. A big problem. HUGE. Mark my words. You did not choose an easy one.”

“I didn’t choose anyone…”

“Yeah? Well he chose you,” she adds cautiously as you walk through the doors, the two of you matching Rafe’s baby blues—the man clearly waiting to catch your eye again. The two of you walk toward the group of frat boys sprawled out in the back. Rafe slaps the guys next to him, whispering something that has them pushing down a couple seats.

Rafe’s gaze trails up your body as smirk rolls across his lips. Holy shit. You swallow hard, feeling your cheeks warm up. “Hi, Rafe," you breathe.

"Hey, Y/n," he welcomes you warmly.

"Can I sit here?"

”’Course you can,” Topper jumps into your conversation, speaking before Rafe can. Rafe furrows his brows, his glare cutting over to his friend. Jealousy? Maybe he’s interested. You take a seat in a desk, Rafe quickly adjusts to move a little closer, his muscular arm skimming yours.

“You settling in, sweetheart?” Sweetheart? Sweetheart. Me? Rafe gives you a sinful smile before wetting his plump bottom lip. He shifts slightly, letting his knee-graze yours as well. You hadn't seen him in a week. He was on campus helping his sister move into the dorms, sweetly offering to help you carry in your largest box when he saw you struggling in the stairwell. It was a small gesture, but honestly you've thought about it ever since.

“I am. Thank you,” you smile, going to speak again but you’re cut off by your professor's voice booming through the room.

"Oh, hey," Rafe whispers, not the least bit concerned about class starting. You look over at him, catching his flirty smile as he fishes his phone out of his pocket. “Before I forget again. Can I get your number?”

“Mhmm.” is all you can manage as you fumble for your phone and your words.

"You comin’ by the frat on Friday?"

“Friday? Yeah. Sure… Is there a party?”

“Yeah. First week of school. Of course, there’s a party. We should get together before then, though. What are you doin’ tonight?"

Tonight? "Oh. I-”

"I can stop by your dorm?" You feel his touch again as his rough finger brushes your thigh ever so slightly. “Just to hang out. We can relax, watch a movie, get to know each other better," he rasps. “Nothin’ more. Aight? I can tell you’re nervous, princess. I don’t wanna make you nervous,” he assures. Damn, that sounds like a lie, leaving his lips. His perfect fucking lips.

Damn… I'm in trouble.

“I’d love that.”

Rafe’s POV:

Atta girl.

Fuck, she’s hot. And she knows it, too. Those legs, that dress, those fuckin' tits… She sneaks little glances at me out of the corner of her eye, positioning her body to get even closer. She’s a good girl. So damn good. I can tell she's a sweetheart. She’s gotta be a virgin… Or is she? Either way, I can’t wait to show her a thing or two. I’m gonna ruin this girl. It’s been a week since I saw her last. I was hopin’ I’d see her on campus, get her number, set somethin’ up. Shit… This is the best case scenario.

Finally… I look up at the clock as it ticks to the top of the hour. I watch as she stands up from her seat, her little dress catching on her upper thighs. “I’ll see you later, Rafe,” she coos. “Nice to meet you, Topper.” She brushes her dress down, skirt shifting over her ass as she walks. Ugh, she's fuckin’ mine.

“Nice meetin’ you too, sweetheart.” Topper calls and I roll my eyes.

“Can you not read the room, Thornton. She’s taken,” I gloat as I watch her and Kie walk toward the steps. She glances back at me, giving me a wordless invitation. You want me to chase you, princess. I can do that.

“Taken? By who?”

“By who?” I mock him, scowling in disgust. “You that dumb?”

“Damn, she’s sexy,” Topper sighs blissfully, ignoring me completely, just provoking me. I throw my elbow at him, catching him in the gut.

“The fuck did I say?” I snap through a raspy laugh letting only a fraction of my annoyance bleed through. “Stop pushin’ me, Top.”

“M’just sayin’,” he laughs as he gathers his things too.

“No shit she's hot.” I scoff as I stand up, heading out before any of the boys can catch up with me. “Stay in your fuckin’ lane, bitch.”

"Where are you off to, Cameron?" Topper yells through the lecture hall.

"Guess, buddy,” I smirk at him before passing through the doors. Y/n seperates from Kiara. Thank, god. She looks from the left to the right, settling on the right. "Wrong way, sweetheart," I call. Y/n turns on her heels, the corners of her pouty lips curling into a smile. "You're looking for your next class. Yeah? Freshman math?”

"Mhmm. Yeah... Will you help me?" She questions. "I don't remember anything from orientation."

"Of course," I smile warmly as she looks up at me. "You know the professor’s name?”

“Shell-Shell something….”

“Shellenberger.”

“I think so.”

“Well, sweetheart. I think you're right. Stupid fuckin’ name. How are you supposed to remember that shit? Huh?” I laugh lightly, making her return a giddy, nervous giggle in agreement. She pulls out her schedule and I bite back a smile as I watch the paper quiver slightly in her trembling hand. “Mhmm… Over here." I rest my hand on the small of her back, guiding her in the right direction.

"Shit," she grumbles, tossing her gaze down in defeat. "I'm such a freshman.”

"Nothin’ wrong with that. You’ll figure it out," I breathe, brushing my hand lightly over the top of hers. Y/n takes a little breath, biting her glossy bottom lip between her teeth at the slightest bit of contact between the two of us. Shit. She’s stunning…

We round the corner, stepping toward her next class. “Well thank you, Rafe,” she smiles as she steps away again but I reach out for her hand, leading her back to me.

“You got a few minutes?” I ask, my question making her beautiful eyes sparkle as her body pulls closer and closer as I take the opportunity to lead her away from the crowd. "It’s been like, what, a week? I’ve been thinkin’ about you a lot,” I mumble. She takes a little breath, trying to think of something to say but she’s a little too flustered. “You're beautiful.” I lose her completely as she glances away bashfully before returning her eyes to mine.

"Thank you, Rafe," she murmurs. Shit. I can get used to that... My name sounds so good on her lips.

"So, am I gonna get you alone tonight?" I ask, making her eyes widen and flutter.

“Oh. Umm… Yeah. I think I can talk Kie into leaving,” she whispers delightedly.

"That’s great news, sweetheart. Just perfect," I smile as I rest my hand against the wall, moving nearer, giving us a little more privacy. “I’d ask you to come to the frat house but it’s pretty crazy right now. And I think Top has a crush on you too. Can’t have that...”

She scrunches her cute nose, clearly uninterested in him, still playing sweet regardless. “I think he was just bein’ nice.”

“Nah… You shoulda heard him talkin’ about you when you left. I mean he’s my buddy, but the guy’s a dog. Ya know?”

”Really?”

”Mhmm… Don’t worry. I had your back. Thornton’s a dick… I set him straight.”

”Thank you,” she smiles sweetly.

“‘Course. Well, I’ll see you tonight. Hmm?” I ask, watching as her smile creeps a little wider as she hugs her books a little tighter.

“See you tonight.”

Reader’s POV:

Your mind starts to race as the movie continues, each passing minute drawing the two of you closer and closer. Rafe smirks down at you, watching your cozy shorts ride up on your thigh as you move your leg just over the top of his. His large, ringed hand traces over your skin, gripping you tight.

The night’s played out like a game of checkers; Rafe, waiting on you to make your move before he made his next, careful to not skip ahead or go too far. He’s been nothing but a gentleman, but that hunger inside you wishes he would just push all that aside. Should I just go for it? I can’t help but get caught up staring at his lips. Kissing on the first night… Is that too forward? Damn. I don’t think I’ve focused on a second of this movie.

The scenes blur together, your thoughts flurry your mind as your heart pounds louder than the sound of the movie. The rapid beating thumps in your ears, embarrassingly so. You look up at him, wondering if he hears it as well, but he smiles at you sweetly. “You alright, princess,” Rafe asks, his voice deep and husky, making your stomach flutter at the sound. Just go for it... If you don’t do it now, you'll regret it. I’ve heard the way the girls on campus talk about him—seen the way they look at him. If I sit here and do nothing, he��s gonna find someone who will…

You sling your leg over fully, taking a seat on Rafe’s lap as your sexual tension boils over. It’s like he was already waiting, his large arm quickly wraps around your waist, pulling you even closer, his other hand drifts into your hair, twisting in your strands, taking you by surprise when his lip crash into yours. You gasp; lips parting slightly, letting Rafe’s tongue slips between, making all your tension melt away.

You match his pace, slowing down with him, savoring the feeling of his soft lips against yours. A low groan escapes him, landing on yours lips, sending chills down to your spine, straight to your throbbing core. Rafe pulls back slightly, leaving you panting, searching for him. “Fuck, Rafe," you breathe in a voice you've never used before as he latches onto your neck; sucking, licking, bitting, making you tilt your head back. He chuckles sinfully against your skin, lighting you on fire before softening his touch completely, working his way back up to your mouth. His kiss-swollen lips ghost over the top of yours, brushing softly.

"I really like you," he hums. “Fuck. I like you a lot, princess.”

"I like you too, Rafe."

”You do?” He croons, the timbre of his voice torturing you.

”I do,” you whisper as you fingers scratch into the hair at the nape of his neck, subtly pulling him in but he hangs back.

"It’s late. What is it? 2 am?" Rafe smiles against your mouth, teasing you shamelessly. He knows exactly what you want but he’s holding true to most of his word from the earlier in the day. “I said we were just hangin’ out, baby. We already went too far…”

“You’re teasing me,” you whisper.

“What? Did you want more?” He asks as his big hand slips under your sweatshirt, tracing your lower back.

“I do,” you whisper needily.

“Mmm’guess, we’re just gonna have to get together tomorrow. Huh?”

“No. I-” You answer quickly. “No…”

“No?” He bullies you, giving you that old money laugh. “You don’t wanna hang out with me, sweetheart?” Rafe whispers warmly against your hot skin.

“You know what I mean,” you sigh, finding yourself at the crossroads between frustration and lust, completely dizzy with the thought of him. Fully consumed in Rafe Cameron. Every part of you wanting every piece of him.

“Tomorrow?”

"Tomorrow," you sigh.

It’s only been a month but, fuck, it feels like longer. I’ve gotten to see him interact with his frat brothers and other girls and it just feels different. He’s so cold and gruff but when he’s around me it’s like that icy exterior melts away. It’s addicting getting to see this side of him— like it’s reserved for me and only me.

There are moments, though… moments where I question if I’m all he wants. I mean, I can tell he likes me, but it’s almost like he’s keeping other girls on standby just in case. Whenever I see him in the hall, he’s always stepping away from a conversation with a different girl or setting his phone face down on the desk before I take a seat… And, it’s moments like that where I get more and more unsure…

Rafe can see it too. I swear he can hear what I’m thinking because he’s quick to assure me I'm way off the mark. He says all the right things, swearing up and down that he’s only interested in me. It’s hard to deny that way he looks at me—the way he touches me: tender and rough, ebbing and flowing between the two leaving me like putty in hands. It’s hard to deny that fact when our talks get deeper and deeper. He confides in me. He tells me things I have to promise not to tell anyone else. I can see him letting his guard down. He’s a very different Rafe than the world knows. He’s my Rafe.

I don't want to be casual. I don't want to be one of “his girls”. Kie said he has daddy issues… Maybe that's why he’s too afraid to commit to us—to me.

Every night I’m pulling myself away right before I take it any further just waiting for his actions to match his words. But it’s getting harder… It’s next to impossible to push aside my urges. I've touched his body; felt the deep ridges of his abs under his shirt, the muscles of his broad chest pressed against the palms of my hands. I've stroked his thick cock over his grey sweats, sucking his tip through the fabric, getting us both off just grinding on his lap alone.

Maybe that next level of intamacy is the connection we need. Maybe sex is all it’ll take. I'm not a virgin. What am I holding out for anyways? Maybe if I give him what I know he wants he’ll be all in. I want him—but I want to feel secure. I want his eyes to stop wandering. I want to be everything he wants. I just don't think I am.

BEEP. BEEP.

You look out your dorm room window as Rafe leans out of his truck with a smile, beckoning you to come outside. You gather your things, running down the stairwell, before making your way out the front door. Rafe’s eyes rake over your body, taking in the view as you walk toward his ride.

He hops out just before you make your way there, pulling you into his arms, looking down at you with a smile. “Damn, you look so fuckin’ pretty,” he praises breathlessly, leaning in for a kiss, claiming your lips. Butterflies swirl in your stomach, tummy fluttering with excitement. You smile against his lips, breathing a similar sentiment against his, praising how handsome he looks in his crisp white shirt and jeans. “Thank you, princess. You ready to get outta here?” He asks, popping open his passenger’s door, taking your overnight bag off your hands, helping you inside.

His smile widens a little more as you silently set the plans, you, having no intentions of going home as you usually do. He trots around to the driver’s side, a little more pep in his step, tossing your bag in the back before turning the key. “You stayin’ with me tonight, princess?” Rafe asks, through a boyish smile he’s trying his best to contain. Your heart sings seeing him this excited. Maybe I was right.

You roll up to the frat. The large mini mansion flooded with people inside and out, music pouring from the windows and open doors. It’s a madhouse. Rafe chuckles, looking out onto the mess. Just another weekend… “You ready?” He asks as he turns his head to the side, tilting it slightly as his smiles.

“M’ready.”

Rafe helps you out of the car, walking hand-and-hand with you inside the space. Cigarette and weed smoke hangs heavy in the air, mixing with the sticky sweetness of cheap liquor. Rafe walks through the party, greeting the masses as he passes brother after brother, the two of you moving deeper and deeper into the party. He lifts your bag by the strap, gesturing to ask if you want to put this in his room. You nod and smile knowing that there’s no chance you’re leaving if he gets his way.

The two of you walk up the stairs, stepping down the hall, excitement rising as you get closer and closer until he pushes through his bedroom door. As soon as it opens, it shuts again; Rafe backing you against the entry, slamming his lips against yours, wanting nothing more than his mouth on yours. He lifts you into his strong arms, deepening the kiss; the two of you quickly finding your tempo.

Rafe pulls you off the wall, walking with you to his bed, laying you down on top. He grabs the back of his baseball cap, pulling it off his head before tossing it to the side, quickly tearing his shirt away. Your eyes widen at the sight of his broad, bare chest, fully exposed. His gold chain glints with his quickened breathing—his toned abs, and deep v-lines kiss the band of his Calvin Klein boxer, poking out of his jeans. He crawls toward you, rolling his big body into yours, crushing you under his weight as he kisses you again, grinding at the perfect cadence. You whimper into your kiss, making him moan into your parted mouth.

DING.

Rafe pulls away from your kiss, grabbing his phone out of his back pocket, eyeing the screen before setting it down on his nightstand. You look back up at him, Rafe not missing a beat, his lips quickly greeting yours again. His tongue slides between your lips, reeling with yours, making you feel like you could float away.

DING. DING. DING.

You're pulled back to reality, stomach plunging as Rafe gets back-to-back notifications. He starts to kiss you a little deeper, your attention obviously getting pulled elsewhere, going out of his to bring your focus back to him, biting your lip and squeezing your hip, whispering sweet-nothings to cloud your thoughts.

DING.

“Rafe…” You sigh, unable to concentrate.

“Just frat stuff, princess. M’sorry,” he mutters. “Just focus on us. Yeah?”

DING.

“Can you at least put it on silent?” You clip as you grab for his phone, catching a name.

Jilly Tate

Jillian? As in Delta Gamma Jillian? You look up at Rafe uneasily. He takes his phone back, flicking the device on silent before returning to your lips.

“Stop,” you whisper.

“What? Why?” He asks dumbly, like he doesn’t already know you know something’s up, continuing to kiss the corner of your lips and cheek as he reaches over, setting his phone down. Without thinking you reach for it, snagging it off the nightstand before opening up his messages. “What are you doin’?” He huffs like he’s got something to hide.

And he does.

Jilly Tate: Rafey

Jilly Tate: Are you partying tonight?

Jilly Tate: Rafe Cameron??

Jilly Tate: you better not be busy again

Jilly Tate: I’m gonna need you to convince me to get out of bed

Jilly Tate: you better make it worth my while?

Jilly Tate: Maybe you need some motivation.

You look up at him as he looks down at you uneasily, not knowing what you’re reading, just knowing who it’s from. He can see the sadness in your eyes, letting him know that it’s most likely not something you weren’t meant to see. You flick your franic finger fast scrolling a little higher, catching pages and pages of messages populating from this week and last

"So, are you… Are you hanging out with Jillian too?" You force the words past your lips, trying to remain as unbothered as possible.

"Yeah, Y/n. Nothing there. Just friends. I swear." Just friends... That doesn’t look like just friends. "Y/n... you okay, baby?" He asks, knowing full-well you aren’t.

"Uh, yeah-yeah. I'm alright," you lie as you look at his phone, watching as three little dots appear, a new message forming from Jillian.

Goddamit, Rafe. You shut your eyes softly, doing your best not to cry as you see the image: blonde curls, piled in a messy bun, pouted lips, and bedroom eyes. A mirror selfie on her bed. Just Rafe’s oversized frat T-shift and a barely-there thong swallowed up by her perfect ass. "Sweetheart?" He asks again, his voice a little more unsure than the first time.

"Yeah."

"You okay?"

Fuck off... Absolutely not. Yet another message rolls in. Rafe’s eyes tighten to yours. "Calm down, Rafe. It’s Topper," you mutter.

"He’s probably just wonderin’ where I’m at, baby.”

Fuck that. You open the message, typing a ‘call me’ reply before taking it off silent, setting it down on the bed before looking up at Rafe; your frusterstion peaked. The tears you’re trying to contain haze your eyes. Rafe clearly has something going on with Jillian. Even if I'm somehow mistaken, he's still getting text— still getting together with her, still getting sexts.

RING. RING. RING.

"Take it,” you whisper.

"I'll talk to him later, princess."

"Take. It."

"Y/n. I-"

CLICK.

Rafe’s eyes double as you make the decision for him, hitting the accept button, putting it on speaker as well. You lift an eyebrow in his direction, challenging him to speak.

"Uh... Umm. Hey, Top."

"Yo. You comin’ or what? Where are you?" He yells over the party downstairs.

"M’up in my room. I’ll be down in a few minutes. I gotta go, man."

"Wait a second... Are you with Jillian?"

"Holy shit," you respire, pinching your eyes shut. A few stray tears fall. You lift your finger fast, brushing them away before he can see.

“No.”

"Bullshit, man. I hear her. Hi, Jilly." You reach up, shoving Rafe off you before crawling off the bed, gathering your things on the floor before bounding toward the door as those same tears stream down your cheeks. Goddammit. Rafe reaches out for you, hauling you back in; his cheeks, flushed; eyes darting frantically.

"Let me go, Rafe.”

"Y/n, please. I can explain.”

"I'm so fuckin' done, Rafe. Just - Fuck! Just leave me alone!" You hiss.

“Shit, y/n. She’s - She's just a friend, baby. Yeah, we fuck. But, she means nothing to me. Nothing. And, I mean nothing to her I swear. C’mon. You're my girl. Just stop.”

"All you do is fuck? Like you’re fucking her still?" You ask as you step toe to toe with him, looking up at his flustered face, silently pleading he isn't doing just that.

"Y/n..." He is… Oh my god. “Baby, please.”

"I'm not your fuckin' baby, Rafe."

"It’s nothing.”

“Nothing? You're joking… What are you doing? Why are you playing me?”

”I’m not playing you?”

”Yes you are!”

”Fucking how? How the hell am I playin’ you. Huh? Been hanging out with you all month. Asked you to come here didn’t I? I’m in here with you right now. Not her. Didn’t even tell her we were havin’ a fuckin’ party. Alright? How am I possibly playin’ you?”

“Why are you gaslighting me? You’re acting like I didn’t just read those fucking texts, Rafe? You said I was the only one you wanted but you were obviously still talking to her; fucking her. If I couldn’t come to this fuckin’ party would you be doing this same shit with her?”

“No! The fuck are you even sayin’ that for? Fake-ass scenarios. Throwing a bitch fit about ‘what ifs’. I'm here with you. I only want you-”

“Bullshit.”

“It’s not bullshit,” he booms. “I like you. Okay? Tate and I haven’t fucked in days. You and I finally started gettin’ serious. I told her I was done. I suppose you read that too though. Right?”

“Days? Days, Rafe? How many?”

“I don’t know…” He mumbles. You roll your eyes, stepping away but he tugs you back in again.

“Finally started getting serious? Did you actually say that, Rafe?” You soften your voice in sadness. Rafe looks back at you dumbfounded as tears of frustration pool in his eyes too.

“I’m sorry for saying that. I know we're serious, baby.”

“I don't think you do, Rafe...” Rafe puffs out a deep, vexed breath as he runs his fingers through his hair, brushing his bangs off his sweaty forehead, either stalling or trying to calm himself down but regardless he's at a complete loss for words. “Nothing? Seriously…”

“Don’tchu think you're overreacting a little bit?” He drawls. His question setting you off further.

“Overracting? Because if roles were reversed and I was fucking Top it would be “nothing”?”

“That’s not the same and you know it, y/n.”

“So after you left my dorm you were just going and getting pussy from her because you weren’t getting any from me?”

”What?” His voice comes out breathy and hoarse at your accusations. He lifts the collar of his shirt, wiping the tears from his eyes.

”Did you leave my dorm and come back here and fuck her?” You speak slowly, asking him a simple question there was no way he couldn’t understand. He hangs his head, sniffling pitifully. “I can’t believe I wanted to be with you. I can’t believe I wanted to fuck you. Jesus, Rafe. I’m a goddamn idiot.” Rafe’s eyes snap to yours, his gaze wild as he takes in your words.

"Please. Fuck. I'm sorry. I'll change. I swear. I-"

"I’m done, Rafe. I don’t trust you. How can I trust you. You said ‘you liked me’, you said ‘I was the only one’. You lied about Jillian… You couldn’t even tell Topper that you were in here with me. That’s so fucking embarrassing.”

"Shit! Fuck. Just stop. It’s not all my fault. Okay? You - You can’t keep acting like you’re acting either. I had no clue if you really liked me or not. I didn’t think you were actually gonna fuck me. You’re teasing me, you're a fuckin’ tease, y/n. Always keeping me on the edge. I have needs-”

“What? I’m not teasing you, Rafe. And needs? We’ve only been talking for a month. A MONTH! I know you have needs. So do I. But it’s hard to let myself go around you and take it to the next level when you’re always looking around for the next best thing. Because if you were all in, Rafe, your needs would have been met week one.”

“I am all in!"

“You’re not. You just want me ‘cause I said I wanted to fuck, Rafe. I’m not dumb,” you grumble. “You’re just a fuckin’ douchebag,” you spit yanking your arm away before starting down the hall. His heavy feet tromp after you, following you close.

“You’re not listening to me, Y/n. Do you even hear what you’re sayin’ to me. You’re actin’ like such a victim but you were feelin’ insecure all fuckin’ month and you weren’t tellin’ me. Just holdin’ out on me because you thought I wanted other people; ‘always looking for the next best thing’ or whatever the fuck. You’re takin’ your insecurities out on me.”

You turn around fast, pushing your finger into his chest roughly. Looking up into his pathetic, tear-stained eyes. “Was I wrong, Rafe? You gave me reason to worry and I was fuckin’ right,” you scold as you jab your finger into his heart, punctuating each word. “How do you think that feels? Huh? Then you stand here trying to turn the blame on me. You’re not a fuckin’ man… You’re a boy.”

“Yeah? Well, you're actin’ like a fuckin’ bitch.”

“I’m acting like a bitch?” You ask weakly, watching as Rafe’s bottom lip trembles. “Fuck you, Rafe.”

You move to the staircase, pushing through the party as adrenaline and fever courses through your veins, your tears making it impossible to see. Fuck this whole month. Fuck this night. Fuck Rafe. You run your hand across your eyes, collecting tears as you pull out your phone, scouring for an UBER. I just need to get home. I just want to forget this ever fucking happened. But how am I going to forget about him?

I fuckin’ can’t.

Rafe’s POV:

”You were up there with, Y/n?” Topper asks in disbelief. “You two together?”

"Nah. Not anymore." I lift my beer to my lips as I scan the thick crowd gathered in the frat house.

"Not anymore?"

I can hear the judgment laced in Topper’s voice. I roll my eyes in annoyance. "What’s it matter to you"

"Y/n is a dream. I know you're incapable of playin’ the long game, but Jesus Christ,” he snickers drunkenly.

"She's not doing shit with anyone... anytime soon. She said she was ready, but she was lyin’. I know she was fuckin’ lyin’. Just putting me on a guilt trip. Just sayin’ that shit to make me feel bad. She’s a fuckin’ tease.”

"You don't know that."

"Fairly fucking sure." I plop a joint between my lips, lighting it up. "She's fair game, Thornton. Have at it. Good luck gettin’ your dick wet in this century."

"You're unreal, Cameron," he scoffs and laughs. "But, yeah… Shit. I think I'm gonna take you up on that offer."

"Fuck you. You won't."

"Why do you care? You said ‘she fair fuckin’ game’, asshole."

I chuckle with annoyance, shaking my head in disbelief. "Where's the loyalty. Huh? Have my sloppy seconds, Top. It suites you.”

"Not really sloppy if you didn't fuck."

"I fucking tried."

"I've known you too long for you to bullshit me, man." He bullies before draining the rest of his White Claw. "You didn't. I can tell you what you did do… Hang out with her, fuck Jillian on the side cause you weren’t getting any pussy yet. Yet!” He puts an emphasis on that point, twisting the knife in my heart. “And you got caught.”

“Nah.”

”Yeah,” he laughs. “I’d bet my life on it.”

“You’re just yappin’, bitch. Shut the fuck up.”

“She's the prettiest girl here, hands-down; funny, sweet, smart, loyal. You didn't even give her a chance."

I swallow thickly, taking in every word, all of which couldn’t be more true. I did exactly what he said… I messed up. I lost her. I’m a goddamn mess. I crack open a beer, draining it fast enough to drown a thought or two, quickly grabbing another, trying my best to forget. It’s so much deeper than just messing up. Y/n didn't feel safe around me... I made her feel unsure. She made me feel safe. Me… ‘You’re always looking for the next best thing’. She is the best thing… She made me feel something for once. She cares about me. Well, cared… "I mean I could still try and apologize or whatever," I mumble.

"She's too smart, Rafe. She's done with you."

"Fuck you, Top."

"Nah, fuck you."

"You're a dumbass, Rafey. Like painfully dumb,” Kelce pipes in for the first time.

"Yeah? N’what should I have done? Huh?" I spit.

"Literally, the opposite of that,” he laughs, making Topper do the same. “I agree with everything Top said, bud. You ruined a good thing. N’for who?” He adds in a condescending tone, referencing the girls I usually bag—a direct shot at Jillian Tate.

"So it's done then. No hope? Is that what you're telling me?" I scoff, my eyes cutting between the two of them.

"That is exactly what we’re tellin’ you,” Topper adds.

"Screw you, Thornton... That's just because you want her."

"Obviously."

I let out a loud, frustrated growl, popping open the beer bottle with my ringed finger. "You're a dick."

"I'm just speaking as your friend. I'm being honest. And, honestly, I'm going after her the first chance I get. Just lettin’ you know. So we are both clear." He taunts through a thick cloud of smoke. “And you better stop drinkin’, Cameron. Whiskey dick’s gonna getcha. I'm sure you're gonna fuck the first thing you see with a pulse, Rafey. You're a fuckin’ dog. We all know it,” he stammers, his voice barely audible as his words slur together. “Guessin’ you got Big Titty Tate on speed dial.”

"Fuck you, Top.” I steal an extra beer off Kelce’s hands for myself. “You better stop drinkin’. Turns you into a fuckin’ asshole with an actual spine. Keep runnin’ your mouth. I'll gladly put you in your place,” I laugh, only half-kidding, glaring at him, challenging him to keep going. He puts his hands up as a truce— his heavy-lidded eyes letting me know he’s seconds away from a blackout.

Fuck this fucking night.

It’s done… She’s done with me. I lived up to every one of her assumptions. I was the man Kiara warned her about, I'm sure. I’m fucked. I look up from my beer, watching as a beautiful blonde struts across the party— legs for days, fake tits, a deep spray tan that I'm forever bleaching out of sheets after rough night. Her bleach blonde curls bounce with each steps she takes, walking up to my room no less. Jillian Tate…

I got nothin’ to lose anymore. Got no self-respect anyways. The fuck does it matter?

I don't deserve y/n, and I never have. I fuckin’ hate myself.

Reader’s POV:

You take the quizzes in your hands, passing the remainder to Rafe, keeping your eyes glued on the front of the lecture hall.

"Thanks, sweetheart," he whispers, turning your stomach. You feel his leg graze against yours as he slides a little closer. Seriously… A set of two eyes catch yours, not looking at you, their attention given to Rafe.

"Hi, Rafey,” Jillian mouths the words from a few desks ahead. He lowers his gaze to his test, scribbling his name on the side of his scan-tron messily.

BUZZ.

Rafe slips up, leaving his phone face up. You sneak a glance at the message on the screen.

Notification: Jilly Tate - You ignoring me?

Rafe opens his messages, glancing at the screen before fumbling to lock it; just another glimpse of her, her blonde curls laying on his plaid pillow, Rafe’s large hand wrapped around her slight throat. His signature gold ring hugs his pointer finger—that same stupid, pink entrance bracelet looped around his wrist from the dive bar the night before. He catches your focus, putting the pieces together that you saw the exchange, further piling on his guilty conscience. "Y/n?" You hear Rafe’s gravelly voice in your ear. "I can explain."

Seriously… More tears. Fuck. You snatch your stuff, forgoing the test all together, quickly moving to your feet, pressing toward the door, pushing out fast, before weaving through the hallway gridlock.

"Y/n? Hey... Wait." You hear Rafe calling from behind you, the pounding of his steps, nears. "Hey, bab-"

"Stop, Rafe," you weep.

"C'mon. It's just I-"

"Honestly, Rafe. Just stop!"

"Let me explain."

"Explain what? We broke things off and an hour later you were with Jillian."

"Yeah. But we didn't do anything."

"'I saw the picture, Rafe? Are you that dumb?"

”That’s an old picture-”

“Stop lying… I saw your bracelet. Show me some fuckin’ respect and save your excuses for someone else.”

“I was angry. She was just there. I'm sorry. I-”

"Just there… Just there? Why her Rafe? Why Jillian? You ruined everything. You're a fucking trainwreck, Rafe.”

"We weren't together, Y/n," he adds in frustration. “You left me. Remember?”

"Yeah... And, you didn’t even try to get me back. You didn't even come after me. You just went for the next best thing.” You emphasize your words, making his features sharpen.

"That's not fair."

"For who?”

"I was going to try… I was gonna try to make things right today. I just needed you to calm down. Jesus. You’re not even givin’ me a chance"

"Was that your plan that night, Rafe? To let me storm off and calm down so you didn't have to deal with me and my drama, fuck Jillian, and make up with me on Monday, and act like nothing happened. Just act like you didn't bang the girl in the same bed we were kissing in. Like you didn't just fuck the girl that you said I didn't need to worry about.“

"You’re bein’ dramatic"

"Bye,” you scoff annoyedly. “Just, Bye Rafe." You spit, pressing through him, checking his shoulder as you walk past, heading back toward the lecture hall to finish your test. How could I be so stupid?

His hand wraps around you arm a little tighter, pulling you back. “Just stop. Please,” he begs. “I wanna fight for you. Please. I like you, y/n. I like you a lot. More even-”

“More? What the hell, Rafe? How can you sit here and tell me that when you clearly don't? You didn't call or text me to see if I made it home that night. That's the bare minimum, Rafe."

"You're right."

"Jillian... still?" Your voice comes out smaller than before, breaking with emotion as he moves closer, backing you into the wall that he had you on on the first day on class. Now everything’s different… Those same thoughts you had about how sweet he was tarnished completely.

"She means nothing to me, y/n," he assures, soft and slow.

"Rafe… You and I, that meant everything to me. I really liked you. I didn't want anyone else.”

"Me too. I promise. I swear. Alright?”

"Then how could you ruin this over someone who means nothing to you? How?" You ask as you look up at him, watching his eyes shift a lighter shade of blue, tears glistenen and gather on his lashes. He lifts up the sleeve of his sweatshirt, rubbing them away.

"I don't know, y/n. I don't know what's wrong with me."

Even after everything, your heart breaks seeing him this way. His cheeks flush with embarrassment for his actions and his blatant vulnerability. He looks around, letting out a shaky breath, checking to see who’s watching, but the coast is clear. He hangs his head, letting a few stray tears fall to the floor. “Let's just finish the test. We can talk later. Okay?” Rafe looks up at you, his beautiful eyes glinting with a sliver of hope.

“Thank you.”

You reach for the door handle, giving it a twist.

BUZZ.

You step back, pulling your phone out of the book bag instead. Rafe glances at your phone, catching the name of the sender as well—watching the final nail lodge in his coffin.

Messages; Maybe: Jillian Tate; iMessage

The phone trembles in your hand as you open the message. A video? You click onto the little screen watching the scene play out right in front of you. Rafe wraps his large hand around Jilly’s throat, thrusting into her again and again. Just a short video from just above her tits, letting you watch the pleasure on her face as her eyes roll back. The clapping of his skin against her fills his room. Three little dots form below the video, followed by a new message from her.

Jillian: I’m coming to you as a women.

You look up from your phone, the end of the two of you crystal fucking clear.

“Y/n, I’m sorry.”

𝐹𝓁𝒶𝓈𝒽𝒷𝒶𝒸𝓀 𝑒𝓃𝒹𝑒𝒹…

Damn, he's infuriating... But, fuck, is he's handsome. Rafe holds the football in his hands, falling back, his big biceps flex, sending the ball spiraling to Top. Your eyes fall down his perfect body: a loose cropped frat tee showing off his toned abs and deep v-lines. His thick thighs hugged with short Champion shorts. He takes off his hat, running his fingers through his carmel-coloured locks before tugging it on again. His sun-kissed skin glistens under the high-noon rays, highlighting his muscles perfectly.

He smiles at you sweetly, making you turn toward Kie with unease. Rafe grabs the bottom of his shirt, lifting it to wipe off the sweat on his face as he walks closer, his shorts hang dangerously low making you hurt with need. His smile morphs into a smug smirk. Your body tenses up as you just wait for his mocking comments to stab you right through the heart.

"Still staring. Huh?" He taunts, causing Kelce and Topper to laugh in agreement, feeding his ever-growing ego. He catches the football from Top, twirling it between his large fingers as he looks up at you from the sand below. "Kie's in her swimsuit, honey. M'sure you got some tits and ass under there to show the boys. When are you gonna stop dressing like a teenage boy?" His voice oozes with condescension, just quiet enough that you're unsure if Kelce and Topper heard or not. You look at the two, none the wiser; your decision is obviously the wrong move, giving Rafe more ammo. "Scared they heard? Aww... M'Sorry, sweetheart. Did I strike a nerve? C'mon, pretty. It's my last day. Leave Daddy with something to keep in the spank bank. Huh?" He rasps.

"Jesus Christ, Rafe. Can you stop being such a dick?" Kiara snaps, looking down at him in repulsion.

"I can," he breathes as his eyes move from her to you. "But, why would I do that? Hmm?" You turn your eyes away, focusing on the water ahead, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of your attention he so desperately craves. "Here," he smiles cruelly as he balls up his shirt, lofting it to the lifeguard tower, landing damp on your chest, cotton mixing with hot sweat. "I'll give you somethin' to put around your pillow when you're humpin' it later." Kelce and Topper laugh louder, catching that part of his dig. Rafe shuts his eyes, letting out his own name in a raspy whine. "Oh, Rafe. Fuck. Just like that, baby."

"Pass it here, Daddy," Kelce piles on, making your cheeks burn with embarrassment.

"You're such a fucking ass, Rafe," you mumble through gritted teeth.

"What's that now?" He gasps dramatically, turning on his heels fast, looking at you wide-eyed. "You want me to fuck your ass, princess?" His sleazy frat boy laugh fills your ears. "Didn't see that comin'. Did you, Kelce?”

"Nah," Kelce chuckles as he catches the football.

"Nasty little thing, aren't you?" His tongue pokes through his perfect teeth, pleased with himself as you flutter your lashes, trying your best not to cry with frustration. "Aww, don't cry, angel. M'sorry. Boys will be boys."

[blackforestbride]

Can't stop thinking of reader humming the ballad of the wind fish unconsciously (near legend of course because I am nothing if not cliche) and he of course has like a brain stop and is like how do you know that song

and the reader is freaking out on the inside because they tried so hard not to let anything about their knowledge of the games slip and while they're panicking legend asks again

and they blurt out that they heard in a dream and legend basically shuts down and reader is like oh fuck oh shit I made it worse-

[thechaoticdruid]

Hello! A scene rewrite for your consideration (no obligation of course!):

Astarion’s siblings’ reactions when they break into the party’s camp at the Elfsong Tavern and see Astarion and Winnie cuddling in bed. After the fight, Winnie asks him about not having empathy for the other spawn and Astarion says his line, “No one ever looked out for me. No one ever said a kind thing to me…you’re the only one.”

angst/hurt/comfort?

Thank you for your amazing writing! ❤️

Forever

Pairing: Astarion x Named!Tav (Winnie)

Note: I hope you don't mind, but some of it is word for word from the game while some is changed a bit, but it's pretty much the same context. This is literally one of my favorite scenes in the game! Also please ignore that the photo is not set in the same place as this oneshot. The oneshot takes place in the Elfsong!

Content: Violence, Fluff, slight angst with comfort. Nothing too bad!

Winnie had never thought she'd feel safe enough to sleep peacefully, undisturbed. Not since before the attack on the Lost Grove, her childhood home, did she ever truly feel safe. Today had been particularly tiring since Winnie, Astarion, Jaheira and Karlach had been on the trail of Jaheira’s friend Minsc. Karlach seemed super excited to meet him, apparently he was some great hero or something. Winnie had never been too educated on Faerûn’s heros. They didn't tell stories of them in the Lost Grove. Now she was resting up in their room in the Elfsong, snuggled up in Astarion's arms as he played with her hair, face nuzzled into his chest. The two of them laid on the bed together hidden away from the view of the others as the drapes closed off the room they were in. 

Astarion was awake watching over the human druid as she dozed off in his arms. The sound of the Elfsong’s ghostly songstress lulling her to sleep. Astarion leans over and plants a chaste kiss on her neck, inhaling the sweet scent of lavender and cherry blossoms, the druid’s signature scent. 

For a while she was in a peaceful slumber, but the wicked don't sleep, someone was here to disturb her rest.

Astarion’s pointed ears detected the sound of footsteps and the scent of undeath hit him hard. 

His siblings had come for a visit, slipping in through the curtains that separated them from the rest of their sleeping companions. Glowing red eyes gazed over at the couple in curiosity.

“Astarion? Finally we've found you.” A tiefling female said as she stepped through the curtains. She was followed shortly by what appeared to be a shirtless human male. The two immediately noticed Astarion curled up around his sleeping human love. Astarion mentally cursed himself for allowing his siblings of all people to witness him in such a vulnerable moment. Cazador was the last person that needed to know of his relationship with Winnie.  

“Looks like he found himself a pet mortal.” The man murmured. Astarion slipped away from Winnie and stood in front of her. 

“Oh, her? She's more of a convenient blood bag, really.” Astarion bluffed, hoping his lie would make sure Cazador didn't see Winnie as a means of leverage to use against him. Winnie shifted, exposing the faded bite marks upon her neck.

“Nevermind that brother, you're coming with us.” The tiefling said before she and the male began to corner Astarion.

Winnie slowly shifted, unconsciously feeling around her bed for her lover. Her eyes blinked open as she suddenly heard the sound of shouting. 

“GET THE HELLS AWAY FROM ME!” Astarion snarled. Winnie leapt out of bed now wide awake as she noticed Astarion backing away from two unfamiliar intruders with his fangs barred. 

“Peace brother, we've come to take you home.” The tiefling said. Winnie glared at them and moved over towards Astarion's side.

“The master needs all seven of us for the ceremony, come with us and be reborn. We'll live again.” The man said.

“You're not taking Astarion anywhere.” Winnie growled out, taking a step in front of him protectively.

“Our master needs him for the Rite. He must attend.” The tiefling woman said.

“Oh, I'm well aware of what the master needs. But don't we deserve better?” Astarion spoke up.

“Better? What do you mean?” The other male spawn questioned.

“After these centuries of torment, I know what you all want, more than power, more than to walk in the sun.” Astarion looked at the other two spawn before a devilish grin formed upon his lips. “You want to see him dead.” The other spawn looked at one another as Astarion continued. Winnie rose an eyebrow at Astarion, curious about what he had to say. “The Rite of Profane Ascension will be mine and he won't see a scrap of its glory. I am going to complete the ritual as the Ascendant and then I am going to kill him!” 

Winnie's eyes widened in surprise. He was really still trying to go through with this despite all of her warnings. Winnie wasn’t a stranger when it came to killing, but his siblings were under Cazador's control just as much as he'd been. Whatever their sins were, they weren't their own. At least that's how it was in Winnie's mind. 

“This is your chance. Name me your new master. We will get our revenge and you will live again.”  Winnie could see the lie in his smile, the hunger for power was clear as day. He'd throw them to the wolves for his own gain.  Normally Winnie would be sickened by such a rotten scheme, but being that it was her lover cooking it up she just felt disappointed. 

“Astarion, you can't be this cruel. You're asking them to die for you in that ritual.” Winnie looked at him, eyes saddened. Astarion tensed as he looked back at his lover's round puppy-like eyes, the soft pout of her lips nearly making him cave.

“Don't look at me like that. With the sweet little ‘disappointed I'm not getting cuddly Astarion’ pout. I can't take it.” He glared back at her slightly. “I can't be what you want to see in me.” 

“Die in the ritual? Whatever are you speaking of? We're going to cheat undeath.” The tiefling said, looking quite puzzled.

“Cazador is lying to you. He needs your souls to complete this ritual!” Winnie exclaimed, “why else do you think he wants Astarion back so badly?”

“The master doesn't need to lie to us. He controls us completely. Why go through the trouble of giving us hope?”

“Oh, I don't know…Maybe because he's a sadistic piece of shit?” Winnie crossed her arms and rolled her eyes at their ignorance.

“Shit. She's right, we're doomed.” The male spawn said. “Alright, we'll help you. Just tell us what to do.” Just as he was about to speak further the tiefling woman began to cry out in pain, her body glowing red.

“The bond’s hold. He owns us. We have no choice, we must obey. Get out of here, Astarion!”  She shouted before the other male began to glow red as well.  Winnie tensed, the sound of the front doors to the connecting rooms slamming open sent her into survival mode. Almost immediately she dropped down, wild shaping into her direwolf form with a loud howl to alert the others. 

Astarion quickly grabbed his rapier from under the bed as his tiefling sister came at him with claws. Astarion's blocked her with the blade, slashing her across the chest and kicking her back. Winnie immediately jumped on Astarion's brother and sank her teeth into his shoulder. While the other members of their group fought with the other invading spawn, they were able to slip right past them and make their way towards the room where Astarion and Winnie were locked in combat. 

They lunged at the transformed druid, sinking their fangs into her flesh and draining her of her precious ichor. Winnie released the spawn, jerking back with a high pitched dog like whine as the other spawns mobbed her.

“Winnie!” Astarion pushed his sister out of the way and rushed over to the druid as she was forced out of her wild shape and into her human form. The arcane trickster kicked one of his siblings off her before casting scorching ray and hitting multiple of them with it. Winnie had to take a moment to regain her composure as her head was spinning from blood loss. 

This is bad….Fuck…If only the sun was….Wait a minute!

“Sol Invictus!” Winnie suddenly cast daylight on one of the nearby chairs, sending intense beams of light at all of the nearby vampire spawn. Their skin began to sizzle and scorch. Astarion's siblings immediately made a run for the exit, disappearing into mist before they could be turned to ashes. Winnie huffed a bit, eyes glancing around at the blood and damage caused by their uninvited guests. 

“What a mess. Well at least you've met my family now.” Astarion sighed, running a hand through his hair. Winnie crossed her arms and glared at Astarion.

“Oh come on, you're not still pouting over this!” Astarion whined.

“That was low Astarion. Lying to them like that.” Winnie huffed out.

“I don't know why you're so upset. They're only six vampire spawn!” 

“Can’t you at least be a little sympathetic to others who suffered the same as you?” 

“None of them would do the same for me! 200 years or torment and no one ever said a kind thing to me! You're the only one.” He said, gesturing towards the brunette haired druid.

“Astarion.” Winnie frowned, a saddened look in her eyes. 

“Other people don't have a heart like you….You're you….No one is like that.” Astarion said softly before suddenly feeling a soft hand on his cheek as Winnie looked into his eyes.

“Star, there are so many wonderful people in this world who will love you as much as I do. You just need to open your heart to them.” Astarion placed his larger hand over Winnie's. 

“Don't sell yourself so short. I'm doing this for you too, you know. To make sure we're both safe. Forever.” Astarion smiled sweetly as he gazed lovingly back at his druid before adding a firm, “for good.” Winnie smiled at him, eyes growing soft.

“Your sweet words aren't gonna change my view on this I'm afraid.” Winnie smirked, “but I am rather happy to hear you want to protect me.” 

“Stubborn little thing.” Astarion murmured before leaning in to kiss Winnie's forehead. “I saw you get bitten quite a few times. Are you alright?” 

“I feel woozy I guess, tired.” Winnie admitted, before receiving another forehead kiss. 

“Wait here, I'll go get you something to eat.”Her vampiric love hummed.

“Ooh! Ooh! Cheese!” Winnie said giddily as her partner rolled his eyes with a smile before walking off to fetch her some food. 

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Taglist for Winnie's during campaign oneshots:

@vixstarria , @paganwitchisis , @kerwin290710

[anon-maly]

Infinite Potential

[comingyourlugubriousness]

A dramatic sword fight to the death! ⚔️

(AKA They both have their edgy dramatic pretend anime sword fight with sticks and then get scolded for not doing what they're supposed to.)

Bonus:

Ref

[zibiscusloon]

The world just asks Azul “This is your man?” on a regular basis

[angelic37]

PETE’S WORLD | Running late... again (insp)

[ghost-proofbaby]

It seems that he picks up on her internal battle before it’s even ended. He sees through all that self doubt, and with a heavy sigh, holds out his palms. “Hand them here.” She instinctively recoils, “I am not giving you my weapons.”  “I’d hardly consider those pieces of charcoal your weapons. More like enemies, after the beheading you served to the first one.”  He wants… the charcoal?

summary: aruna begins to doubt just how skilled she truly is with her daggers, and astarion proves himself useful his first night in camp by offering an act of selfless aid. but not before criticizing her map making skills, of course.

wc: 3.3k+

warnings: continued memory loss, use of daggers (but not for violence), astarion gets a little flirty, and more gameplay recounting (specifically one of the first camp scenes you can trigger with astarion)

a/n: take a shot every time i make astarion say "oh, dear" like a little shit in this fic. also, i promise at some point, this fic will stop being such a play by play of the game lol

masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

“You’re Astarion?” 

Aruna swears she’s going to be sick as she stares at the elf with wide eyes. It’s all too much – the leftover adrenaline from having a blade held to her throat, those red eyes boring into her soul, the swirling pressure that squeezes down on her lungs tightly as the realization settles deep inside her bones. 

This is Astarion. 

“I- Yes?” he questions, entirely on guard as his eyes narrow. He’s quick to recover, and all his hesitation is masked behind a certain air of confidence she can see right through, “As I was saying, I was in Baldur’s Gate… when those… those awful beasts…” he loses his focus repeatedly before finally huffing out a sigh, “I’m sorry, just- Have we met before?”

She doesn’t even know how to explain herself or her outburst. She hadn’t confided in Gale or Shadowheart regarding her letter, and hadn't mentioned Astarion in the last two days. The entire spectacle looks odd to every single one of them; Shadowheart is watching her far more carefully than normal, Gale’s face is twisted up with all that awful curiosity, and Astarion is just… Well, he’s simply plain confused.

He doesn’t recognize her. 

She woke up without any memories, not even so much as her own name, with him being one of the only clues to her past self, and he doesn’t even know her. 

What sick game is the Universe playing on me?

“Do you two know each other?” Gale asks when Aruna doesn’t answer Astarion, but it only earns him a scoff from the pale one. 

“Thank you, for repeating the obvious question I just asked…” Astarion trails off, eyeing the wizard, waiting for proper introduction. 

It takes him a few moments to recognize that Astarion is waiting to learn his name before he jumps to life, “Oh! My apologies. I’m Gale, and this is Shadowheart. And that is Aruna – although, I do promise you, she’s usually far less mute.” 

He doesn’t fucking know me. I have a letter in my pack right now, heavier than any looted armor, instructing me to save him – and he doesn’t even know me.

“Ah, I see,” Astarion’s voice is surprisingly low, nearly musical in cadence as he hums and turns to look at her properly again. There’s still concern behind his eyes, still searching her for some sort of explanation. “Well, I certainly don’t believe we’ve met before, have we?” 

He’s asking something more than just all that he’s voicing. She can pick up on that much; she just doesn’t know what else he really wants from her. 

She can’t simply casually say, “Oh, I have no idea. I actually have no memory of my life before all of this. But, hey, fret not! I actually have a letter with your name on it – a letter telling me to save you, even. Small world, eh?”

Or maybe she could. Far more odd situations have arisen in the last forty eight hours. 

“I don’t think we have,” she says slowly, being sure to enunciate each word with cautious care. They feel wrong, heavy on her tongue as though she’s telling a dire lie. 

But was she the one lying, or was Astarion? If that letter of hers truly was referring to him, he must know her. 

Is it possible he held his blade to her throat because he knows her?

“Well, now that we’ve gotten that out of the way,” he flashes a charming smile, and she realizes just how disarming he is capable of being. If she weren’t so on guard at the moment, honed in entirely on him for every subtle change, she wouldn’t notice it was an act, “What do you know about these wretched things inside our heads?” 

The rest of the conversation, Aruna only has one goal in mind: Astarion will be joining them in her travels, no matter the cost. She matches his act with one of her own, flourishing with her own set of honeyed words in an effort to garner the barest hint of trust from him. And it proves to not be overly difficult; it’s as though they share the goal as something common between them, because the moment her offer of him joining the small group leaves her mouth, he’s eager to agree. Almost too eager. 

All strange circumstances aside regarding Aruna, it’s still a valid response. They have better chances of survival if they face it in numbers. 

And so Astarion joins them. Brimming with flamboyant movements and an extravagant smile that she notices stays half-closed, he offers to bring up the rear of the group just as Aruna announces the need to go back to camp. 

“Resting again? So soon?” Shadowheart’s face twists as if she doesn’t notice the quickly setting sun, “We haven’t even found a healer yet. Or at least found a lead for one in the area-”

“We can find one tomorrow,” Aruna interrupts, turning to face her small group of rag tags. She can’t stand it – the hope shining in each of their faces, the undeserving faith that lies behind their eyes after just two days. Astarion is the only one resembling something she can stomach, and mostly because he looks entirely bored with the current argument, “I need to update our map and we really should try and put more effort into the camp before we pick up any more…” she trails off, and Astarion finally looks at her, half-smirking as though daring her for an insult. Something fires up inside of her – as though it’s a game, as though they both know she doesn’t mean it when she finishes the thought with a sarcastic quip of, “Strays.”

“Oh, darling,” he puts a hand to his chest, taking a few steps around Shadowheart to be closer to her. When he leans forward, it’s as though he’s sharing a secret with just Aruna, “If you wanted me to purr for you, all you had to do was ask.” 

It’s not a secret, though. Everyone else hears. Gale takes a sharp breath in, and Shadowheart only huffs in disamusement. 

And Aruna has to bite back everything inside of her to not react, to not give him any satisfaction. It’s as though he sees right through her, as if the laugh she had swallowed down had escaped nonetheless, to grace only his ears. 

Neither of their shields are working very well against one another. Their souls already seem to know one another, staring across the vast caverns between them, a whisper of I know you echoing in both sets of ears. 

She doesn’t stand a chance, and she’s hardly known him for a few hours. 

—

Camp is quiet. 

Shadowheart is brooding, Gale is humming to himself as he lays out a rug that no doubt came from his damned bag of holding to claim his corner of the camp, and Astarion has taken to sitting near the fire pit. All lost in their own worlds, all completely silent as Aruna gathers what she needs to complete at least one of the tasks she’d insisted needed to be taken care of. 

The map. She needs to attempt to update it, add to the sad squiggles and lines to indicate that area they explored today. Even if they never return to that beach, she wants to know that it’s there. It exists. 

Charcoal pencils that they had looted from a chest amongst the wreckage days prior are lined up on the stone bench, the surface almost too high for her to comfortably utilize it as a table when she sits on the ground before it. But she’s stubborn, and it’s the best she can do in their current situation, so she makes it perform as a table. 

She’s just started to ponder if she should retrieve one of her daggers to sharpen the sticks of charcoal when Astarion notices. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, sounding more accusatory than curious as she unsheathes a knife, already fisting a pencil. 

“Sharpening my pencils,” she murmurs, mentally pleading with her shaking hands to steady as she brings the edge of the blade a few centimeters from the tip of the art tool, angling it so that she can begin to shave it down to a precise point, “I’m updating the map.”

“You have a map?”

She sighs, finally lowering the dagger and charcoal. Her hands won’t stop shaking, and Astarion really isn’t helping. 

“Yes, we have a map,” she nods to the piece of paper on the stone before her. Astarion wastes no time in getting up from where he had sat on one of the bedrolls rounding a fallen tree log so that he could take a seat on what was meant to serve as her table tonight, not his bench. 

He looks down at her sorry excuse for a drawing of a forest, the center being camp.  

“Oh, dear. Well…” he leans in closer, squinting at a grouping of dots that were meant to symbolize the beach where she had woken up, “You certainly weren’t an artist before all of this, were you?” 

“Excuse me?” 

He glances up at her through his lashes, lifting a brow as if he was pointing out the obvious, “Don’t get me wrong. The idea of a map is an excellent one, I’ll give you that, but this…. This leaves something to be desired.”

She doesn’t know why she’s taking offense. She knows her art skills are shit. She knows the map is pitiful. 

“It’s not complete yet.”

“Clearly.”

“We just needed some way to keep track of our surroundings.”

“I agree.”

“It doesn’t have to look pretty.”

“Oh, but wouldn’t it be so much nicer to look at if it was more attractive?” he tsks at her.

She hates it. She hates that his criticism, his disapproval, gets under her skin so easily. 

She picks her dagger back up and brings it back to that piece of charcoal in her left hand, more determined than before, “If you hate my rendition so much, make one for yourself. I’m sure you could do a far superior job, right?”

Snap. 

Her hands were still shaking when she struck against the soft black chunk in her hands. The angle had been off, the amount of pressure she was applying was too much. She had been distracted by him and now, she was suddenly holding a broken piece of charcoal rather than a nicely sharpened one. 

They both stare down at the mess she’s created across her palms and weapon for a few seconds, deathly silent. She’s trying to not throw an absolute fit, quickly reaching her breaking point; he’s trying to bite down all his laughter, almost feeling sorry for her. 

“Oh, dear.” 

An echo of his earlier words, this time choked up behind his silent amusement. Slightly more exaggerated, far more taunting than they had originally been. 

“Don’t,” she quietly insists, eyes flickering up to already find mischief burning in his, “Don’t you dare. I-”

“You have wielded those daggers before, haven’t you?” 

She opens her mouth, prepared to bite back with an of course I have, when it hits her that she’s actually not entirely sure. 

Have I? 

She had wielded them in the fight against the brains, hadn’t she? And she’d been able to use them quite well, albeit the fight was against a couple of brains on legs, and she had a powerful wizard and strategic cleric on her side. 

It seems that he picks up on her internal battle before it’s even ended. He sees through all that self doubt, and with a heavy sigh, holds out his palms. “Hand them here.”

She instinctively recoils, “I am not giving you my weapons.” 

“I’d hardly consider those pieces of charcoal your weapons. More like enemies, after the beheading you served to the first one.” 

He wants… the charcoal? 

She doesn’t give herself any more time to question it, grabbing for the two remaining pencils and handing them over before she can even guess what his end goal here is. 

That thing inside of her is still whispering, pleading for her to trust him. She doesn’t understand why – she can’t comprehend how he’s the mysterious Astarion she’s meant to save, or how she could possibly know him without him knowing her. None of it makes a lick of sense, and yet, she’s still handing him the charcoal he requests and not even voicing a single concern outloud. 

He unsheathes his own dagger quickly. His hands don’t shake as hers had. The angle of his blade is precise and his stroke is quick as in mere seconds, he’s taken the chunky stick and shaved it down to a point.

He’s sharpening them. For her, presumably. 

“How did you…” she whispers in questioning as he holds out the newly sharpened charcoal, the one he had yet to turn into a point still resting beside his thigh. Curls of ashen black litter the ground around the two of them. 

“Skilled hands, darling,” the nickname strikes embers inside of her, kindling of flames ready to be fanned into a wildfire if he so pleased, “And some of us know how to use our daggers.” 

She plucks it from his fingers, holding it up to examine the delicate point in the dying light of the day. 

Perfect. She wasn’t about to admit it to him, but his handiship was perfect.

“This is the part where any one with common manners might say thank you,” he muses, condescending as ever as he picks up the second stick and begins to twirl it, marking his knuckles in the faintest grey. 

Against her better judgment, her eyes find his as she all but whispers, “Thank you.” 

It’s more sincere than she had meant. And she can’t understand it herself, but it feels like she’s thanking him for far more than just the charcoal. That quiet voice inside of her teems, preening as she continues to look him in his eyes. Those waves of deja vu are beckoning at her shore again, but this time, she’s almost fearful to dip her toes back in. It had hurt badly enough when their tadpoles connected – she doesn’t know what would happen if she succumbed to that feeling of knowing him, recognizing this scene from what feels like another life. 

What had he done for her in past lives that warranted thanking him so sincerely? What whispers of forgotten memories between them warranted the firm instruction of saving him? 

As she pulls herself away from the useless pondering, she takes note of Astarion’s reaction. He very clearly hadn’t expected her to actually thank him. The shock ripples across his features, he leans back as though she might have smacked him with her genuine words. For just a moment, hard garnet softens and she’s once more reminded of friendship. She could be friends with him; she could be friends with all of them, but especially him. 

Just as she’s leaning into the idea, he’s clearly running from it.

“So, we’re resting here for the night?” he asks in faux nonchalance, effectively changing the subject, “Officially turning in?” 

I could be your friend, but only if you let me in, it seems. 

She’s not blind. She knows pressing the topic any further would probably end badly for the two of them. “Yes. And if all goes to plan, this will be our permanent camp. For however long our journey requires, of course.” 

He’s quiet as he focuses his attention back on the charcoal pencil he had been fiddling with, and with quick movements, he takes to whittling it down just as he had the first one. This time, however, he’s slower. As though he’s begging for the action to fill the awkward silence so he won’t have to. 

“Why do you ask?” This, she decides, she can press on. She can push him on this topic, “Never slept in the woods before?” 

She doesn’t know why she expects him to keep up a callous act. Expects to be met with resistance and a snarky attitude. But no such thing is on display as he swipes at the charcoal one final time with his blade before he looks up at her, and he’s still softened. Churning ever so faintly, like the calmest of oceans. She knows there’s dangerous depths beyond, a certain darkness she only sees the shadow of behind the look he gives her, but the surface appears so inviting for the time being. Cool, refreshing, reflecting speckles of moonlight in his eyes. 

“It’s all a little... New to me, I admit,” his voice is something softer than usual. Soft, soft, soft. Why does she recognize that softness inside of him so easily? She picks up the brief shrug of his shoulders before he continues, offering her more than she could have asked for, “The night usually means bustling streets, bursting taverns. Curling up in the dirt and resting is, uh…. A little novel.” 

She’s completely bewitched through the explanation. Drinking in every movement, the way he speaks with his hands, the fluctuations in his tone. He dives back into that usual charming voice when he mentions the taverns – his tone brims with youth as his face softens and he says his final three words. The lift of his brows, the nerves of the small smile he pushes forward; she clings to every bit of it, in a damning effort to piece together who exactly the man in front of her was. 

He’s pretty. If she’s learned nothing else, it’s that he’s pretty. The kind of pretty that would ruin her if she wasn’t more careful. 

The kind of pretty that might have already ruined her, if that mysterious letter was any sort of clue. 

“You should try,” she doesn’t know why she’s whispering, but she is. Mostly everyone has retreated to their own spaces, their own bedrolls. They’re the only two left within the vicinity of the fire dying out in the middle of the camp, “Rest, I mean. We’ll need it for whatever tomorrow may bring.” 

He’s quick to shake his head, holding out that second pencil to her finally. It’s as well carved as the first one, perfect for the purpose she had for them, “Oh, no. I’m in no place to rest yet. Today has been a lot. I need some time to think things through, to process this.”

As she takes the pencil, adding it beside the first on the stone, she knows there's a catch yet to be revealed in his words. “Are you sure? I don’t mind taking the first watch.” 

It had been an unspoken agreement – there would always be someone awake, keeping safe eyes on the camp as others rested. 

“I’m positive. Actually, I insist that you rest. I’ll keep watch instead.” 

She shouldn’t trust him. She shouldn’t so willingly put her faith in some random pale elf to keep her safe in her sleep. 

And yet, she does. 

Her logical thinking and her instinctive reactions don’t align. They never seem to do so thus far in her journey, especially with him. It’s more than just the letter reminding her to save him; there’s a twisting in his gut, a burning in the back of her mind, as if she’s known him far longer than the day has been. As if their time together transgresses far beyond the mere hours they’ve been acquainted. She trusts him ardently – to a dangerous level. She can recognize it, but she can do nothing about it. The feeling surely can’t be mutual. Her gut is surely leading her wrong. 

“Thank you. I’ll sleep better for it.” 

There are those two little words again, slipping off her tongue with an earnesty that rattles them both to their cores. At least this time, she hardly looks him in his eyes as she says it. 

“The pleasure is all mine,” he covers up any shock with theatrics, offering a small bow to her, “Sweet dreams.” 

Her dreams are anything but sweet that night. But they do distract her just enough that she never notices the shadow strangely similar to his stature, sneaking out the edges of camp, slinking off into the woods without a sound.

[abysskeeper]

Finally embarked into act 2 with Nox. Chose to go through the Underdark first because meh, variety. I kinda like meeting the Harpers first, that fight really does kind of set the tone for the area. Anyways...finished the fight and...

Yeah...you wanna talk, buddy?

Gale, sir, we haven't even been here for five minutes. You at least had the decency to wait a few fights before springing this on Fi. Though in fairness, I found a new outfit and brought this on myself.

I guess I'd be a little eager too if I was staring at Nox in that all night.

[canonical-transformation]

Ah excellent. My slow-burn Ittopaimon rivals-to-allies-to-friends-to-lovers crackship is going well I see

[thats-a-lot-of-cortisol]

nice suit dumbass, did your husband pick it out for you?

[rowdydevs]

"𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐩 𝐊𝐢𝐥𝐥" - 𝐀 𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 | 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐 𝐨𝐟 𝟑

+18 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓸𝓻 𝓓𝓝𝓘

𝙱𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚢𝙵𝚛𝚊𝚝!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝚂𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒: 𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 | 𝐆𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 | 𝐏𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞 | 𝐒𝐢𝐳𝐞 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤

*total fic is 15k

5.8K

𝓇𝒶𝒻𝑒𝓎𝓈𝒸𝓊𝓇𝓉𝒶𝒾𝓃𝒷𝒶𝓃𝑔𝓈 𝓀𝒾𝓃𝓀𝓉𝑜𝒷𝑒𝓇 - 𝓌𝑒𝑒𝓀 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝑒𝑒

⚠️warnings contain spoilers⚠️

Mean!Rafe, Bully!Rafe, bulling, Rafe is an ass, name calling, degredation, swearing, drinking, smoking, drug usage, kissing, praise, size kink, unprotected sex, oral (female receiving), oral (male receiving), rough oral, multiple orgasms, spanking, violence, fighting, ownership kink, pet names, multiple POVs, violence, gore, horror, stalking, blood mentioned, gaslighting, lovers to enemies to lovers, reader is quick to forgive, mentions of mutual masterbation, teasing, cheating, possessive Rafe, jealousy

𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓑𝓪𝓬𝓴𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓻𝔂: Sweetheart! Reader isn't from the OBX. She met Kiara (roomate) at college and quickly became friends with the Pogues. The group decided to join the reader, working at Camp Salem which she attended every summer since she was little. After junior high she became a camp counselor herself. Sweetheart!Reader is just that, a sweetheart. She's a lover-girl and quick to forgive. She's hard to read regarding her sexual experience-her sweetness is irresistible to Rafe. He fantasizes about corrupting her and stripping her of that. Sweetheart!Reader wears her heart on her sleeve, making her the perfect target for her bully, Rafe Cameron.

𝓡𝓪𝓯𝓮’𝓼 𝓑𝓪𝓬𝓴𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓻𝔂: Canon-wise this Rafe is the closest to Season 1 Rafe. He is the definition of touch starved, touched but untouched, craving intimacy because it makes him feel better, even if it's just for a few moments. The only awful thing he did in his past in this AU is to be an asshole to the Pogues. He and the Kook trio are serving community service hours assigned from the university at Camp Salem after getting in trouble for something at the end of the last school year (undisclosed drinking violation). This being something they couldn't pay their way out of.

Rafe’s POV:

“You ready, baby?” I murmur as I stretch out my legs, watching as she walks into the water nice and slow. Her hands relax at her sides, skimming the brisk water. She wanders out into the lake just above her hips, diving into the deep as I take off for my morning run, watching her from afar as I always do.

She glides across the lake, moving fast. I pick up the pace as well, trying to get to my regular spot on the trail before turning around with her. I used to tell myself I was just out for a run, but that’s a lie. Telling the boys it was simply part of my morning routine, but who am I kidding? It’s all for her.

It’s the only time I get to see her without her guard up; she’s been on edge all summer ‘cause of me. I know. I pushed her away…further, if that’s even fuckin’ possible. Made her feel unsafe in her favorite place. This fuckin’ hell hole…

Every stroke she takes pulls her farther from the beach. She’s a strong swimmer, but why the fuck is she out here all alone? What if she gets tired? What if something happens? She needs me.

And I need her. Fuck, I need her so damn bad.

This is my last weekend. I’ve wasted every possible second. I gotta make this right, even if I just get to apologize. I don’t want her to hate me even though I’ve given her every right to. I’m an idiot. I always get in my own way. I’m a goddam asshole. And this summer just highlighted that tenfold. She’s amazing. She’s so good at what she does: with the kids, with her friends. She lights up every room she walks into, and here I am, snuffin’ her out at every turn.

Y/n’s beautiful. Fuck, she’s stunning. Every time I catch a glimpse of her, I feel my heart break a little more. There’s somethin’ about her here, too. Maybe it’s the lake. Maybe it’s the summer heat. But I can’t help but picture the two of us out on my boat, her sun-kissed skin and the glimmer of the open water shining on her hair. I can’t help but think about how pretty she’d look in her little bikini, lying on my chest as we unwind on the boat deck, rolling with the waves.

That could have been us.

How did I get this deep into summer without telling her I was sorry, without admitting how cruel I was? Without telling her just how much I think about her? I had all this time, and I wasted it being angry and cold, being a fucking coward.

When I leave, she’ll finally get to relax. She might lift her head for the first time all summer and actually look around, seeing someone who’s gonna treat her like a princess. There’s plenty of guys here. She might fall in love with someone… and she deserves to. She has the right to be happy. I want to be the one that makes her happy. I can’t keep watching her from a distance. What do I have to lose anyway? I’ve already made an utter ass of myself. I’m at rock bottom.

I need to tell her I’m sorry… for everything. I need to let her know how I feel.

I stand at the lake's edge, watching as she swims into shore. My heart pounds in my chest as adrenaline courses through my veins. I study her carefully, watching the little rivers of water roll down her curves. God, she kills me. I draw a deep, ragged breath as she runs her hands through her hair, pawing out the water. I can’t take my eyes off her… I don't want to. She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

Damn, this morning is hittin’ harder than ever. Morning after morning, I could have made a move, choosin’ the wrong one each time. What about now? Her guard’s down, she’s relaxed. Y/n’s alone without any eyes on her that’ll question her sanity for talkin’ to me. Maybe she’ll hear me out. Fuck me. No…

I watch Kie walk through the sand toward her. Y/n smiles brightly at her friend, a genuine smile I haven’t seen in months. Kiara says something that makes y/n laugh. Carrera is gonna give me well-deserved hell if I even try to get close. I have to get her alone. I need her to know I mean it. I need her to know that I’ve thought about her for months and haven’t stopped. I’ve gotta convince her I'll be a better man if she gives me half a chance. I’ll get my shit together. I’ll be the kinda guy that deserves her. I’m gonna make this right.

𝐿𝒶𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓃𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉…

Reader’s POV:

“And just like that… fire,” Pope smiles up at you proudly. Your little crowd claps for him as he rises to his feet, giving you all a playful bow. Sarah fiddles with the speakers, pulling up a playlist as the rest of the counselors filter in toward the beach. Free Weekend is the one summer weekend where the camp counselors get to cut loose— a family weekend where all the kids head home for a few days, returning on Monday to finish the last half of the summer. You breathe deeply, looking out onto the calm, dark waters. It’s quiet, peaceful, serene. But that won’t last long. These small moments remind me why I love this place so much.

Pope crashes down on the sand next to you with a beer, passing one your way as JJ blazes up a joint on your other side. “God damn, this place gives me the creeps,” JJ rasps through a smoke-graveled grunt.

You shake your head and roll your eyes. “It’s not that bad.”

“Not that bad my ass,” JJ scoffs. “You don't think we all know the stories? Shit’s spooky.”

“Yeah, it’s a little spooky I guess,” you breath as you wrap your arms around your waist, holding yourself a little tighter. Camp Salem was a pure joy during the day: bright and full of life, kids screaming and running around, birds chirping, energy buzzing. But at night, that light gets wiped out completely, the place changing entirely. A thick blanket of darkness falls on everything: the sky, impossibly dark, tall trees looming, shadows shifting all around.

Free Weekend always seemed a little more ominous. When the kids left it felt like they took the life with them. It didn’t help that the camp counselors loved to stoke the fires of fear, telling stories about what happened all those years ago when this was Camp Kildare. Free Weekend… Fourteen Counselors slaughtered at the hands of some campy-80’s-movie-esque slasher. It was bullshit. Nonetheless, those stories stuck in the back of your mind.

The lake shimmers under the moonlight, its reflection painted across the deep waters. The large fire casts embers into the sky, floating away into the distance, a red hue mixing with the stars twinkling in the sky above. The party starts to surge around you—still, no sign of Rafe. You bite at your lip nervously, trying to focus on the conversation between the pogues, but you can’t help but catch yourself looking out for him. You peer through the deep woods that line the beach, cabins set just behind, darkness, and trees swallowing up the rest of your view.

It had been a long summer with Rafe. He took out his frustration in the worst way. Who would have thought he would be so bad at managing his emotions? You laugh to yourself at the ridiculousness of that thought. He was such a dick. So, impossibly mean. I'm patient; still hanging onto our time together by a thread. But I’ve had about enough.This is his last weekend here. His probationary hours are all but complete. His worry about getting kicked out of the frat finally squared up. Even though he’s an asshole, there's this part of me that wants him to stay. What’s wrong with me?

Your stomach flutters as you hear his voice. Rafe walks down the little pathway with Kelce and Top, laughing about something. Rafe punches Thornton playfully, rough enough to make him stumble, the blonde already drunk. Kiara huffs out a disheartened breath, seeing the trio. The three shuffle through the sand, making their way to the fire.

Rafe sits down, trying to act casual, but there’s obviously something on his mind today more than the rest. He’s snuck a few more glances than usual; his stare a little more pensive than his usual glare.

The bonfire casts flickering shadows across his sharp, tight jawline. He leans closer, flexing his arm muscles unknowingly, straining his sun-soaked t-shirt. Rafe takes off his hat, running his hands through his hair, turning it backward instead, letting you see his beautiful eyes. His gaze shifts to yours, catching you staring, but this time you keep your focus on him. Rafe’s eyes narrow slightly, sizing you up but not in the way he has been— with kinder eyes.

The air between you thickens more, building from the moment you saw him watching you at the lake. For a split second, you thought he was about to break. But when Kie came over, everything changed. He walked away reluctantly, it seemed. What if he was going to apologize? Maybe I’m overthinking it.

You smile softly, hoping to ease the pressure, and like some dream state, he smiles back slightly, the corners of his perfect lips curling up; his eye flutter, the man unsure if he believes it himself.

Holy shit.

Rafe’s POV:

Is that a smile? Oh my god. I feel like I have to pinch myself. That… that’s a real smile. Her smile. Just as I hit my high I'm struck down again. My stomach twists as I watch an arm wrap around her shoulders, pulling her close, whispering in her ear. She giggles that sweet fucking giggle, rolling her stunning eyes away at what Heyward has to say. Pope? You fucking kidding me? My heart shatters. Why wouldn’t he go after her? Why wouldn’t she have people pinning after her? I knew it would fucking happen… I knew that she would find someone. But how did I not see this coming? Is this a new thing? Don’t tell me I’m watching the start of their fuckin’ relationship. I’ll lose my goddamm mind. I grit my teeth and clench my fists, feeling myself right on the brink of a breakdown, seconds away from crashing out completely.

I underestimated just how hard this would be… Seeing her with someone else. Pope Heyward... Fuck that guy. He has no business being that close to her. My blood boils at the thought of him having what I yearn for—getting my girl. My chest tightens with anxiety, making my labored breathing that much harder. She’s too smart. That smile toward me meant nothing… Topper was right all those months ago. She’s done with me. She deserves better. She found better. Fuck everything. If she hates me, fine. At least she feels something for me.

Reader’s POV:

”I’m gonna get a beer. Anyone want anything?” You ask as you rise to your feet. JJ holds up two fingers, gesturing for two beers as the rest is waves you off with a ‘thank you’ and a smile. You foot through the sand, heading toward the coolers on the fringe of the woods. Leaning over you snag three, turning around, gasping as you bump right into Rafe’s big chest.

“Three, huh?” He cracks up.

“They’re obviously not all for me.”

“Obviously,” he taunts. “Drinkin’ three beers would require you to pull that stick outta your ass, and we both know you’d never do that. Now, would you?” You suck your teeth and step around him, but he strides in your path, letting out another laugh, getting off on making you uneasy. “Ain’t it exhausting being such a goodie-two shoe? Don’t even get me started on what a prude bitch you are-”

”Enough,” you shout. Pope, JJ, and John B stand up instantly, staring in your direction; posturing—challenging Rafe to mess with you again.

“Wait… Wait a damn minute. Are you fuckin’ all three of ‘em?” He whispers cruelly, close enough for you to feel his warm breath on your neck. “You’re a fuckin’ whore. Aren’t you?”

“Leave me alone.”

“Leave me alone,” he mocks your voice, reaching out his big hand, hooking his finger around your belt loop, pulling you in. “You don't want that. You love this shit. Bet’you're soaked, princess.”

“You’re pathetic, Rafe.”

“Have fun with your boyfriends, sweetheart. I'm sure it’ll be a long night for a slut like you. You got three holes for a reason. Ain’t that right?”

“You’re a pussy, Rafe.”

“‘S’cuse me?” He snorts out a little chuckle. “What was that now?”

“You heard me. Can't say you're sorry. Can't admit you like me… You’re a fuckin’ pussy and everyone knows it.”

“M’not,” he whisper, swallowing hard, thrown off completely, trying to regain the upper-hand. “I can’t wait to leave this shit hole— then I don’t have to see your priss-ass every day.”

“Keep lying to yourself, Cameron.” You push past him, walking toward the fire as you scrunch your nose, holding back tears of frustration as the pogues look back up at you. You pass JJ his beers before cracking open one of your own, quickly downing it; plucking the joint out of Maybank’s fingers next.

“Rough night. Huh?” JJ asks, making your group laugh as he states the blatantly obvious.

”Just gotta get through tonight,” you sigh through a sticky cloud of weed smoke. Pope scoots a little closer, lessening the space between you. He looks down at you with warm eyes, giving you a soft, sweet smile. It had been a fun summer with him so far; there was no denying Pope’s boyfriend material, but there’s a piece of your heart that’s holding you back…

You look across the fire, watching as Rafe talks with his friends. He chuckles between sips of beer, seemingly unaffected by your exchange, an arrogant swagger in his body language letting you know that he still know, regardless of where the two of you stand, he has your focus. Rafe looks your way, catching you red-handed. He smirks at you, continuing to torture you without words at all.

“Hey,” Pope breathes as he rests his large hand on your thigh, guiding your eyes back to him. “Forget about him. Alright. He’s just a dick… Always been a dick.” Pope keeps his hand sat, rubbing his thumb lazily, keeping you grounded. You give him a soft smile and a nod.

You’re trying your best not to look, but when you turn your attention to Kie, her eyes are focused in Rafe’s direction. She chuckles delightedly and shakes her head, obviously amused with something. You turn your attention to Rafe, watching him watch youl, his body language quickly betraying him. He crosses his big arms over his broad chest, lips pressed into two thin lines, as his eyes cut into you like daggers.

“Looks like someone’s night took a turn,” Kiara chuckles. You laugh as well; a mixture of excitement and nerves. Your laughter and smile making the tensions between the two of you heighten even more.

“I mean… We could have fun with this.” JJ hums against the lip of his beer bottle before taking a swig.

“This is a bad idea,” Kie warns.

“Of course it is. Stupid things have good outcomes all the time... You know that, Kie. Now, who of us does he hate the most?” Everyone in your group raises their hand, causing more laughter.

”Honestly, it seems like Pope,” John B adds.

“‘Course it does,” Pope clips. “You in?” He cocks his eyebrow at you mischievously.

Why not? You nod and smile as you lean into him, resting your hand on his cheek as you brush your thumb along his bottom lip. “He’s gonna kill you,” you coo. But to Rafe and the other kooks it looks like you’re mumbling sweet nothings to Heyward. Giddy energy courses around you as the group feeds off of Rafe’s growing rage.

“Yeah - What’s new?” Pope mumbles as he wraps his hand around the back of your neck, pulling you in for a kiss, stopping right before your lips meet, sharing breath with you. “We don’t have to kiss. It’s alright. I'm sure this is enough-” You steal Pope’s words off his lips as you press yours against his in a deep, searing kiss. You let your mouth move with Pope’s, relishing in the moment of peace, knowing this would bring nothing but drama. The pogues hoot and hollar. You pull away slowly, the two of you looking back at each other, unable to deny that the kiss was great regardless of the situation.

“Yeah, that was hot. He’s pissed,” JJ blurts, making the reality of the situation sink in fast.

Holy Shit.

JJ leans into the campfire, a broad, sinister smile painted on his lips as he prepares to tell the story of ‘84, laying on the theatrics thick. “Sit back and relax. Grab a beer. Let me tell you about what happened here.”

“That rhymed,” John B. smiles and nods, elbowing JJ, who smiles proudly.

"M’a storyteller. What can I say? Well, it was the summer of ‘84… At this here camp,” he drawls as he motions his hands around the fire, catching everyone’s eyes. “Camp Kildare… Camp Kill. It was Free Weekend, just like tonight—a warm summer even, such as this. The counselors were young, carefree, horny-“ He lets his voice get swallowed up in the cat-calls of the crowd. “No one noticed the counselors gettin’ picked off one-by-one, everyone figured they were just couples slippin’ away for some advanced cuddling in the bunks. But then, a few too many started to disappear. Ain't no way all of ‘em were bangin’ one out. I mean, the kids are gone. Right? It’s quiet and eerie. Losing thirteen people is a little hard to ignore. First was Max. He ran up to the mess hall fridge to snag a keg. The next were Joy and Casey, who slipped away for a quickie in cabin five. After that, odd shit started happening left and right.”

“People started separating from the rest, only to get slane brutally. One lone counselor remained: Peggy Dates. They found her the next day, fightin’ for her life around what little remained of her fellow counselors, all slashed to pieces. In the middle of the welcome sign, they found an axe, buried deep in the lumber, dripping with the blood of thirteen…”

“Now we all know them filthy kooks only want one thing, and one thing only: cash money. I’m ass at math, so don’t quote me on this, but twenty years ago they decided to open the camp again, giving it a new name, thinkin’ no one would notice. But it’s hard to ignore it… There’s evil here. You can feel it— hear it. See it,” he whispers just above the crackling of the fire as he points toward the inky black woods.

“The Kildare Slasher is still wandering out there, just waitin’… So if you see a man walking around the timbers in a ripped plaid shirt, wielding an axe, just run. RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!” JJ screams, making the crowd around the fire shout with terror and thrill. You lean into Pope and him into you, cuddling closer.

Rafe’s eyes drill into you from across the fire, his focus never leaving you, frustration, confusion, rage, all but boiling over as he scowls at you, wearing his possessiveness on his sleeve. Ever since everything went down, he never had to fight for your attention; he always had it, even if you weren't talking. He was never worried about someone taking you because, at the end of the day, he knew how hung up you were on him.

But tonight burned. He hated seeing someone else get your attention. He hated seeing someone else making you laugh and smile. His lip twitched with anger, fists tightening as he watched your fingers lace into Pope’s. And in that moment, you saw him physically holding himself back, every fiber of his being wanting to storm across the fire and take back what was his.

Instead, he sits there and stews some more, plotting his next move. He smiles smugly; his next plan of attack coming sooner than he hoped as he watches Zoey Peters stand up from her makeshift seat on a log. She brushes off shorts, the curves of her plump ass poking out of the bottom of her cut-offs; tits spilling out of the top of her shirt. Rafe’s tongue pokes in his cheek. You watch him, his calculated daze morphing into a come-hither stare. Zoey takes the bait effortlessly, strolling toward Rafe with a smile. He looks up at her from his seat on the cooler; the beautiful blonde slotting herself between his thighs, his hand instantly resting dangerously high on the back of her thighs.

He gives her a cocky smile, mumbling something charming that makes her giggle. Rafe grabs her hand, guiding her to sit on his lap. His eyes fall down her body, landing on her perfect tits, drifting higher ‘til they set on her full, glossed lips. Fuck, he’s an asshole. It’s so clear he’s doing the same thing I am… His eyes dance between the two of you as they chat. He’s so obvious about it; it’s maddening. He’s really trying to fuck with me like he hasn’t already been doing that ALL fucking summer. His large hand gropes her bare thigh as he leans in, whispering something in her ear, making her turn away bashfully. I can’t help but feel the sting; déjà vu hitting hard. Whatever…

“You wanna go down to the water?” You ask Pope, who looks over at you with a smile.

“I’d love that.” He grabs your hand, helping you to your feet, the two of you shuffling down the beach toward the lifeguard house. You step through the cool sand, leaving the warmth of the party to a place more private. “So?” Pope looks down at you, saying so much with a single word.

“So?” You sigh, tipping your heavy head on his shoulder, your body relaxed from the liquor and smoke, not too much, just the perfect buzz.

“How long until Cameron’s stomping over here asking ‘what the hell are you doing-”

"Where the fuck are you two goin’?" Rafe spats. Pope laughs weakly, the comedy and predictability of it all too much. Pope’s fingers twine into yours, silently letting you know that he’s not afraid. “What are you doin’ Huh?”

"Just hanging out, Cameron. What does it matter to you?” Pope challenges. “Don’t you have a girl? Where’s Zoey?”

“Oh, fuck off, Heyward. We both know why I was talkin’ to her. Aight? Now I’m gonna ask you one more fuckin’ time. What are you doin’ with my girl?”

“Your girl?” Pope laughs. “You’re joking? Are you his girl, Y/n?” You look up at Pope confusedly, shrugging like you’re unsure, just fucking with Rafe at this point. “We all know the answer to that,” Pope mocks. “You’ve been harassin’ her all year; been a fuckin’ asshole to her all summer. ‘Course you’re not-”

“You’re not gonna talk to her ever again. You understand?”

“She’s my friend,” Pope scoffs. “Of course, I’m gonna talk to her, you fuckin’ psychopath… We done?”

“Far from it,” Rafe laughs.

“You wanna be done, sweetheart? We don’t need to do this with him,” Pope looks down at you with a glint in his eye, using a pet name to stiffen the blow.

“Call her sweetheart again. Please,” Rafe pleads maniacally; an unhinged look in his eye as he stares backs at the two of you.

”You hard of hearing, sweet cheeks?” Pope smiles making Rafe lose all control.

“FUCK OFF, POPE. THIS IS BETWEEN ME AND HER!” Rafe shouts. His voice thundering in your chest, fists clenched at his sides, as he steps into Pope’s space.

“You just want her ‘cause she’s with me, man. You don’t care about her.”

”Don’t fuckin’ speak for me,” Rafe barks, the two standing head to head, preparing to fight as the kooks and pogues run down the beach toward the three of you. "YOU THINK YOU CAN TAKE WHAT’S MINE, BITCH?" Pope swings, striking Rafe in the jaw, surprising you both; knuckles against flesh, making him struggle back, holding his face. Your hands clamp over your mouth in shock as the beach floods with panic. Kelce, Topper, John B, and JJ jump in as well; a barrage of big bodies going at it, blow-for-blow.

The light from the campfire in the distance is your only source of light as you and Kie do your best to pry the boys off each other. Rafe regains his footing, wiping the blood from his lips, his piercing blue eyes brimming with fury. He runs forward, tackling Pope to the ground, the two grappling in the sand. "RAFE, ENOUGH. STOP!” You shriek as he gets the upper hand completely, pounding Pope into the beach.

Kelce grabs Rafe by the back of his shirt, yanking him off before he can do any more damage—Rafe fights against his hold, barking threats at Pope as Kelce holds him back. ”STAY AWAY FROM HER, HEYWARD. STAY THE FUCK AWAY.”

You pout your lip, looking into Pope’s beautiful brown puppy dog eyes, blotting away the blood on his cheek. He sucks his teeth, eyes pinching shut in pain. "Well, that went about as well as expected,” Kie groans, giving JJ a side-eye as he glides his tongue along some paper, rolling up a joint.

“I had a great night. What are you talkin’ about?” JJ smiles, his lip split and bloody, one of his eyes swollen shut. You cup his cheek in your hand, looking back at him regretfully as you sigh.

“He’ll be gone tomorrow. Maybe we should have avoided the whole make-him-jealous thing. Don’t you think?”

“Our first mistake was listening to Maybank,” Pope whispers, making JJ scoff.

“Talkin’ shit… Damn, Pope. You’re on a roll tonight, baby. Didn't you throw the first punch too, man? Proud of you-”

”He did,” you answer for him, pressing the bandaid against his cheek. “You didn’t have to do that, Pope.”

“It was my pleasure, truly. I hate the guy. Got to say my piece. Got to get under his skin. Maybank was right. This is a great night,” he smiles. “Definitely worth a scrape or two.

“Or three…”

“Rafe deserves to hear all the shit he put you through… M’guessing you still wanna be with him?”

You shake your head ‘no,’ but the whole room knows you’re lying. “That's not true-”

“Liar, liar. Pants on fire,” JJ mutters through his exhale. “Very, very questionable taste in men but we've come to terms with it.”

“Have we?” John B laughs weakly, picking the joint off JJ’s fingers before resting it between his lips.

“I don't know... Kie was right all along. He’s a-”

“Walking red flag,” the room chants in unison.

“Mhmm… He is. He’s a mess,” you sigh.

“But…” JJ mocks you, waiting for you to continue the words you're too embarrassed to say aloud. I still want him.

“Ya know… He said that the three of us were “doing it.”

“Yo… It as in sex?” JJ blurts as he chokes on his smoke. “I am so in.” You roll your eyes and laugh, returning your attention to Pope again.

“Thank you for tonight.” He smiles at you sweetly, taking your hands in his.

“Anytime, Y/n-”

”Hey.” The five of you turn toward the noise as Zoey peers inside, searching the room before meeting your gaze. “Have you seen Paisley?” She asks worriedly.

“Uh, yeah,” Kie mumbles. “Cabin four with Trevor, what, like thirty minutes ago?”

“Oh,” Zoey giggles, putting two-and-two together. “Maybe I’ll give her a bit.”

Pope hops off the counter, wincing slightly as he adjusts his body to stand straight, his muscles aching. “Let me walk you to your cabin.” You smile and nod, taking his hand in yours.

The two of you walk down the row of cabins, the strain of the evening somehow lessened, leaving everything a little lighter. Pope pulls you into his arms, hugging you tightly. “Thank you again, Pope,” you mumble against his chest, listening to the soft pattering of his heart. “I’m sorry about all this.”

He breathes out a deep breath with you before shrugging and smiling warmly. “You’re my friend, y/n. And good news for you, I love you more than I hate him. So...”

“Love you too. You’re too good to me, Pope.”

“I know,” he grins as he rocks back on his heels, trying not to laugh. “If you need me, just holler, okay? Knowing Cameron he’s not done… Be careful with him.” Pope kisses your forehead before pulling back, looking down at you with a smile. “Have a great night.”

“You too.” You watch as Pope walks away, disappearing into the night toward his cabin. Reaching for your walkie-talkie, you pull it out of your pocket, lifting it to your lips. “Be safe,” you smile.

“I’ll be so safe,” he chuckles.

“Let me know when you get back. I don’t want you to get got by some slasher.”

”Stop, you’re scarin’ me,” he whimpers dramatically.

“Fuck!” You squeak as you're grabbed by your arm. You swing around, meeting Rafe’s gaze, slapping him across the cheek without a second thought. His face snaps to the side; hissing in pain.

“I deserve that,” he mutters before clearing his throat, returning his eyes to yours.

“I fucking hate you, Rafe,” you huff as you swerve around him, walking toward the stairs, but he grabs your arm, pulling you toward him again.

“No, you don’t,” he murmurs as he backs you into the cold wooden wall of the cabin. It’s true… it’s not just lip service; I fucking hate him. I hate the way I can’t get over him, the way he’s constantly on my mind even when he treats me like absolute dog shit. I hate that I still like him. “Leave, Rafe.”

“Will you just stop? Please… I’m trying to talk to you. I've been trying to talk to you all day.”

“I don’t want to talk to you. Why would I after everything you’ve done?” Rafe’s chest heaves as he tries to catch his breath, towering over you, but he’s never been more powerless.

“I’m trying to make things right—”

“Make things right? Well you're shit at that, Rafe. Hurting me wasn't enough. You moved onto my friends?” You lift your hands, shoving him once, banging your fists against his chest next. “And for what, Rafe? Because you were angry? Because you wanted to prove something? You kept saying I'm yours? I never have been because of you. You didn't want me to be ‘til it was too late. Harassing me for months, then having the audacity to say ‘I belong to you’? Even when we were dating, you couldn't do that. Did you even see what you did to Pope?”

His eyes darken, jaw clenching. “I didn’t want to—”

“He never did anything to deserve that. He stood up for me and said nothing but the truth.” Rafe exhales sharply, looking at the ground as he searches for the right words. “Speak.”

“I was angry. Okay? You were trying to make me jealous. He - Fuck. He was provoking me.”

“Provoking you, Rafe? How?”

“Stop acting like you don’t know!” He shouts, his voice booming through the dim. The summer air hangs thick with tension as he steps closer, voice rising in desperation. “This isn’t some joke to me like it is to them, y/n. They think it’s funny, playing these games, dangling you in front of me to make me jealous. Kissing you, touching you like he did just to piss me off. Trying to make my life hell. I'm already there. I’m miserable!” His voice breaks with the bitterness and pain spilling out of him. “And there the pogues are, laughing at me, pushing me until I snapped. I didn't want to do that. All I wanted was to talk to you.”

“They didn’t make you do anything. You chose to snap. You decided to hurt people because you couldn’t handle your own shit, Rafe.”

“It’s impossible when I see you with other people—”

“And so you lashed out?” You ask, shaking your head in disbelief. “That’s not how you fix anything. You hurt people who care about me because you couldn’t control yourself.”

“This whole situation is pushing me and I can't fucking take it.”

“Yeah? Well, this situation, this mess… you made this on your own. Don’t you dare try to blame my friends or Pope for your misery.”

“Are you and Heyward really a thing? Really? I need to know. Alright?”

“You don't get to know. Leave me alone, Rafe.” You do your best to push him off of you, but he cages you in, looking down at you with begging eyes. “Leave. Me. Alone.” He shakes his head. ‘No,’ his jaw muscles coiled, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows his emotion.

“I can’t…” He whispers. “I can’t leave you alone, y/n. I—I came to apologize. For everything. I shouldn’t have treated you the way I did: tonight, here, this year… ever. I’m just—I’m so, so sorry, y/n.”

“That’s all you have? An apology?” You ask weakly. “We’re so far past this, Rafe. You know how much awful shit you’ve said to me just today?”

“I know. I know - god, I fucking know. I replay it over and over, y/n… I know I’ve been a jerk. Okay? I know I’ve screwed up more times than I can count. But I like you. I like you a lot. Then I fucked everything up and I didn’t know how to handle it, so I pushed you away. If I kept my distance and acted like I didn’t care, it would be easier for you and me, but it’s not. It’s killing me. I'm sorry, princess-”

“Stop.”

“No. Please just-”

“I said STOP!” You shout in frustration, loud enough to make him flinch. “It doesn’t matter anymore, Rafe. You’re leaving in the morning. It’s for the best.” Your words come out harsher than intended, making his tears slip down his cheeks. “I don’t want to do this with you anymore. The jabs to my heart, the bullying, the mixed signals—I’m fucking done, Rafe. I’m done with you. So just go. It’ll be easier if you’re gone. You're toxic and for some reason I can't get over you. So you gotta go. I want you to go. I’m sure you can’t fucking wait. Just give it a day or two. Huh? You’ll be back on campus; back to your old ways. Sleeping with some beautiful sorority girl and you’ll forget all about me and my priss ass.”

He looks at you blankly, taking in every word, falling apart in front of you. “I’m sorry,” he whispers again, like a broken record.

“I’d hope you’d be, Rafe.

His eyes soften on yours; nostrils flaring as he brushed the tear off his face. “Y’know, tomorrow when you wake up, I’ll be gone,” he whispers, voice cracking with sadness.

“I’m counting on it.”

[uniquethingtastemaker]

Hello! I think I've got a good one. First off, for the sake of this request, let's pretend that Rook was somehow able to attend Camp Vargas (We're reaching SO far, but it's fine) and he has a male s/o who was also attending the camp (whether he's Yuu or not, I'll leave up to you), but he has serious trauma from being kidnapped by a serial killer when he was younger. And so, when Vargas captures and ties him up, the reader starts losing it and having a panic attack, thinking he's going to die. How would Rook react to this?

Hey, Anon! Thanks for sharing your brain rot ideas regarding Rook, because we love our ridiculous and theatrical hunter. Truly a wild set of circumstances I've been presented, but I love it!

Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if I saw Rook attending Camp Vargas purely because the man is so athletic. He wields a huge bow with great accuracy and is proficient in stealth. He would easily be able to sneak in and just lay in wait, taking pictures secretly in the trees. The reason he would be there in the first place would absolutely be to take photographs.

Honestly, even without the extremeness of "got kidnapped by a serial killer," I can see someone having a panic attack just in general by getting kidnapped. I mean certain traumas can trigger people's fight, flight, or freeze response and it's a big mood.

What will come next is just me free writing my ideas for this, so here's y'all's present I guess lol. Also, note that I have not actually read the Vargas Camp event, but have a vague idea of what kinda went down during the event lol.

Oh my god, wait, to elaborate on this idea or whatever. I could totally see Rook in the trees, watching the whole kidnapping thing go down. Then, when Vargas would leave to claim his next unsuspecting victim, Rook would drop down next to you. Cooing in your ear that you were safe and are going to be ok, he would cut the ropes off you. Probably holding you close and just rocking you back in forth lovingly while you calm down from your panic attack. You would probably be clinging onto him and his big muscles like a koala. He would be whispering sweet words of affirmations in your ear, as he moves you to somewhere safer. Aka away from the pile of other victims lol...

You know, he would probably cut the other victims free just to cause some more fun chaos and trouble for Ashton. He probably knows that the person behind the kidnappings was Ashton anyway, because Rook is so perceptive... I could totally imagine him deciding to exact a "friendly" revenge on him for messing and actually traumatizing his beloved by telling the other victims that the culprit was Ashton and maybe some other important information to help them successfully get back at their teacher lol. Rook wouldn't have time in the moment to personally get back at him, because he would be too busy taking care of you!! Ahhh, so sweet! We love our hunter boy. Taking care of us and making sure that we feel ok and safe (in his arms lol). I can imagine that there would be cuddles as you hear the sounds of absolute chaos and screaming in the distance perhaps watching the whole fight go down from afar. The kids rebelling and enacting a revolution to overthrow Vargas. Sounds about right. I wouldn't be surprised if that would happen in game low key lol.

Ohhhh, and you know what would be the cherry on the cake? Having the reader specifically thinking and praying (maybe whimpering lol) while they're getting kidnapped that Rook would save them even though he wasn't at camp or whatever. And then having Rook actually show up?!!! *throws myself on the floor and dies* It's such a good idea. Good job, anon, you've successfully murdered me.

You also surprisingly got me to vaguely write/elaborate on your request low key, and that my dude is a feat within itself. Like I'm truly impressed. *applauds you from the floor*

[picklefics]

Benefits of Camping, or How to (not) Hunt Bigfoot With Your Parents

This was originally posted on Ao3, but I decided I'd see what posting on Tumblr was like for fanfiction :) (https://archiveofourown.org/works/47138986/chapters/118767895)

I already have chapters 1-5, just not gonna put em all up right now as I'm at a coffee shop and need to work on heading home.

Summary:

It could've been a great vacation. Probably. Except there's one tiny issue: Danny's parents have decided to take a break from hunting ghosts, instead supporting their fellow cryptobiologists in hunting Bigfoot. The big problem? They do find Bigfoot. And Bigfoot can talk. (...and has a PhD?)

Chapter 1: Benefit 1-New Cooking Skills

Danny’s folks are usually ghost hunters, but that doesn’t mean they don’t branch out. After all, they’d spent almost 20 years of their life studying a science practically everyone thought of as a paper house in a rainstorm. Surely one of those droplets of evidence would disprove the science as a whole.

Really? Entire beings made of one substance? Supernatural entities?

Absurd .

Maddie and Jack have a great deal of sympathy for cryptobiologists. They also have a tendency to suspect that ghosts are involved every time someone spots Bigfoot or some other being. But really, they’d be happy with either the discovery of a ghost or a new animal to dissect.

Danny, on the other hand, is not in love with either of those two discovery options. He is having a great deal of fun tormenting Jazz, who’d been forced to come along on a trip to the red cedar forests of California. He’d tried to bribe Sam and Tucker into coming along. Sam, with the lure of a new animal (maybe) to check out, and Tucker with peer pressure and lots of grilled meat. Unfortunately, after the reality check that was another fight with a new ghost named Fortuna (self-proclaimed follower of Fortuna, Goddess of Fortune and Misfortune, and with luck-related powers), they’d been forced to concede that having people at home who could fight ghosts was too important to have all three of them on a camping trip.

Thank fuck that Val wasn’t in school right now and that she’d gotten less extreme about ghosts since meeting Danielle. One day Danny might even consider telling her about him, if she doesn’t figure it out first. As a result, there are three competent ghost hunters in Amity Park who don’t actively hate ghosts while Danny is on vacation.

At any rate, Danny is trapped with a bunch of adults who are way too enthusiastic about hunting down rare animals and (in at least one case) killing and taxidermy-ing them. The guy in question keeps tracking new hunters down and showing off pictures of his living room and business, covered in eerie deer, bear, and alligator heads, among other things. There’s even a snake wrapped around a driftwood piece on the table. It reminds Danny of Skulker, and makes him consider yet again whether ghosts might be more likely to form out of these kinds of people. He’s pretty sure his parents were obsessive before they started regularly working with ectoplasm, and after?

They grew much more extreme.

And who knows? It could be due to exposure to ectoplasm, or maybe the obsessiveness causes ectoplasm to accumulate near them. He’s heard theories going both ways.

This guy, Danny could easily imagine dying and becoming a ghost.

At least he helps with setup. The camp takes a while to go up, yellow and beige tents popping up like gophers among the trees. His parents’ tent is a green dome, one of a few splashes of color in the group. Another guy sets up a big grill and a solar panel in a little clearing, one of the few places with sunlight. His incredibly buff partner totes a bag of backup coal to the grill like Mom would carry a sack of flour.

All around the area, people bring up folding chairs and situate equipment. In a big, waterproof, black container, they all put their tech away. The container is anchored with thick ropes to be absolutely certain that nothing can drag it away. It’s flash-flooding season in the area and there’s a river nearby, so they’re concerned that the container could float away, but they had wanted to make the equipment available to everyone, so they aren’t keeping it in anyone’s vehicle. 

A cage goes up towards the far west corner of the camp, away from the fire pit, because they’re worried anything they capture might be unduly frightened by said fire.

With that, a few people sign up in rotation to monitor the grill, planning to bake some potatoes and apples in the fire pit and grill weenies. It’ll be about three hours before supper, but the planning, and a snack, are needed. As the only kids present (apparently many of the others’ kids are nonexistent or at summer camps), Danny and Jazz are put on apple coring and potato poking duty involuntarily. 

Matthew Kapp is their instructor. He practically drags them to the fire pit and tells them how to make the food like he thinks they have infinite memory space for commands, no matter how long the list is.

He explains that potatoes explode when in the ashes without holes, then shows them the basic steps to prepare the food. Essentially, they’re supposed to stab the potatoes with a fork “until it feels right”, wrap them in tin foil, and then yeet them into the fire. Then they have to be surrounded by the ashes and dug out later. Jazz and Danny both work on this, quietly chattering.

Danny grins and with particular emphasis stabs a potato old enough to have green sprouts studded all over its surface. He has to use his right thumb to put enough pressure on the sides of the sprouts that they fall off. He jokes, “If I were Skulker and this potato was me, I’d be so happy right now…”

Jazz raises her eyebrows at him. “Sometimes I worry about the normalization of violence you’ve experienced, Danny.”

Danny is like 90% sure she’s saying that mostly to get on his nerves, but he’s not 100% sure. Ah, the delights of a sister who adores psychology and tormenting her little brother. He rolls his eyes. “Literally everybody in town probably has that. The school has at least one attack every week.”

Jazz retorts, “That’s really not normal.”

“Well it’s normal for me.” 

At that, Jazz changes topics. “Did you remember to bring our tent?”

Danny gives her a thumbs up.

“Great. We don’t have to listen to their snoring!” She cheers. Granted part of the reason they have the tent is because of Danny’s nightmares and occasional power use. Particularly, he’s prone to leaping out of bed and turning intangible the second he gets startled awake because of the sheer number of times ghosts have woken him up.

“Thanks for suggesting it,” Danny offers. Then he adds, “Stabbing the potatoes until it feels right is so…imprecise. How do we know when it feels right?”

Jazz groans sympathetically. “I know, right? I get it for people who’ve baked campfire potatoes before, but we’ve never done this. Mr. Kapp is a scientist, isn’t he supposed to know to be exact for beginners?”

Danny tosses his potato back and forth. “This potato better be good. It’s very hole-y now.” He sets it in the metal bowl to his right and adds, “It’s starting a cult.”

Jazz raises her eyebrows at him. “...why?”

“Holy? Y’know, like saints or whatever?”

Jazz snorts and grabs the tin foil roll. She starts unwrapping it to the familiar crumbly crackle of ripping metal, tearing off pieces big enough for each of the potatoes they’ve prepared. Danny snitches some of the squares and starts wrapping them around each potato as fast as he can. For this part, they don’t talk. The aluminum is too loud anyways. It covers speech pretty well.

After all 14 potatoes are wrapped, they toss them into the fire. Sparks flash into the sky and drift away, and one of the logs collapses into the pit with a soft thud. The white ashes have increased in number, but there aren’t many yet, so they wait to bury the potatoes in the ashes. While they wait, they move on to the apples.

Danny mixes the cinnamon and other spices together and Jazz cores the apples while grumbling about how hard it will be to work on her paper out here. She brought paper so she could handwrite some of it, but out here there isn’t any internet so the most she can do is type on her phone. She isn’t doing that because she’s worried about running out of power and not being able to call if there’s an emergency.

They both stuff the apples with the mixture and then wrap them and toss them in the fire in the same way as the potatoes but to the side. About 15 minutes later, they use sticks to roll the apples out of the fire. The potatoes are saved for later since it will be a few hours before they’re done, while the apples are served as a snack/dessert immediately. 

Having had a long drive and therefore possessing a strong craving for sweets (or any sort of snackage really), everyone swarms the apple pile and as a result only gets one each. Danny plots to sneak another apple into the fire later so he can have seconds, and Jazz wholly supports him. He forgets to eat, and she has to remind him far more often than she’d like.

After the apples are all eaten, some of the people sit down to rest (those who weren’t already asleep) and some of the others begin prowling the area, including Taxidermy Guy (Oscar Polson) and his wife Paloma.

When the two of them come back, they have a map of the area filled with markings denoting where they want to put various kinds of traps. The Polsons are the experts on trap-setting and location, and they’re responsible for deciding which places to put the traps each person brought. With the locations for each trap decided, everyone fixes the last few supper items and sits down for supper as the sun sets, mostly because there’s not enough time to set up the traps that evening.

Next Chapter:

https://www.tumblr.com/picklefics/730299785376104448/boc-chapter-2?source=share

[damonrutherford]

Damon Rutherford spotted by the paparazzi on his way to the 2024 Charity Camp Out at his family's estate.

[batsplat]

Hi Bat, do you know that Chad Reed invited Casey to join him at Vale’s ranch next January in a comment on Casey’s Instagram?

I REALLY HOPE IT HAPPENS😭

(also had a screenshot sent to me ahaha)

would very much love for casey to accept that lol, though I also find it conceptually funny if valentino basically. does not get consulted about this in advance. like probably you can't say 'hm actually no you can't bring one of my former biggest enemies to my ranch' if he's already agreed to it, right, so you do sort of have to go along with it at that point. my sense of the vibe of that rivalry is that valentino would be up for it, but it's STILL quite the move to essentially invite somebody's ex-nemesis to their home. the kind of thing I would love to do for the bit, so I do respect it. doubt it'll happen, but you can always hope casey also finds it a funny idea, enough to actually go. maybe just to satisfy his curiosity!! we know he canonically does have a sort of vague ill-defined curiosity about valentino's whole deal, including his post-motogp life, so. here's your chance, casey. find your truth