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writersundersiege · 9 months ago

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The New Girl in Town Pt 6

Rafe Cameron x F! Reader

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A/n: This one is another long one, and it took me so freaking long to edit, and honestly, I don’t know how I feel about this chapter. I will let you all be the judge. Should I keep doing this one this way or just do it based on whatever comes to mind?

The New Girl in Town - Masterlist

Summary: When Rafe comes to your rescue at the boneyard, what happens when things develop with him rapidly? But maybe things aren’t what you thought initially. Are the people of Outerbanks right about the boy you’re starting to feel so much care for?

MDNI 18+

Warnings: Storms, grief, death, insinuation of sexual themes, violence, weapons, swearing, drug use, and drug abuse, as well as some slight talks of addiction. Sexual themes: unprotected sex, smut, slight aftercare, soft! Rafe

That night, from two separate spots on the same property, two people couldn’t sleep comfortably.

You laid on the Druther’s, soft volume playing on Netflix from Sarah’s laptop; you could feel the waves slowly rock the boat, the double door slightly open, letting in the biting sea breezes that floated through the night while you sat and stared out the window of the ship that looks towards Tannyhill.

Sarah's sleeping frame on the couch across from yours. rises slowly up and down from breathing.

Looking back towards the vast house, you notice one dim light is on and immediately recognize it as the room one door down from Sarah, Rafe's room.

Earlier, he nearly slammed the door so hard to his room it shook the whole wall that connected his room to his sisters, and then a giant storm cloud of doubt swarms you.

From the second you stepped foot on the island, you’d heard about a boy named Rafe who was troubled and unbalanced. The first thing you heard about him was right before you met him while moving in.

The moving caravan stopped at a hardware store; you were buying a drink while your dad needed razors for the box cutters your mom had newly ordered to unpack.

You entered the smaller store, smelling of freshly cut wood and slight hits of cleaning oils, soft elevator-type music played.

Other than your father and you, there were workers, including a few boys your age and an older man standing at the register, but they were the only occupants of the store.

As you were browsing the refrigerator section, trying to decide what to get. Faintly, you could hear two boys in the other aisle talking, and they seemed rather upset.

Trying your best to mind your business, you round the corner, making your way towards the register where you can already make out your dad’s smiling face, leaning on the counter and looking back towards you.

In the last moments, you catch the boy stocking shelves, his messy brown hair falling in his eyes, saying, “Then after all that bullshit, dude, I go looking for her only to find her right underneath Rafe fucking Cameron.”

The redheaded boy, who sits on the floor, stocking shelves, listening to the boy next to him, shaking his head while continuing stacking, says, “is how it is out here, always has been, man. That isn’t the first girlfriend you’ll have stolen right from under your nose, nor will it be the last. Kooks take what they want.”

This makes you stop and step back, looking down at what appears to be outlet covers. Still, too enveloped in the things you don’t know but are curious about, you pretend to pick them up and be reading the back but listening to the boys.

Your dad stands at the front counter, watching you for a moment, frowning as you look at the light switch covers but shrugs, walking to a display shelf they had set up for electric hand tools that weren’t far from the front.

“Cameron and all the snobby rich kids on this island get what they want not because they deserve it but because they're crazy, and Rafe, man, I mean, he’s ruthless; he’s borderline psychotic, nah not borderline, he is psychotic I mean there are so my examples…”

He begins to trail off but immediately starts again: “One time, I watched him beat the hell out of a dude at a party who touched his truck by accident, mind you; the man was smiling back blood in his teeth, taunting the kid who wasn’t even fully conscious anymore till people pulled him off. I’ll never forget that, and the kid still has a huge scar on the side of his head from the fight.”

The messy-haired boy had been intensely listening the entire time, just like you so much, so you think it’s time to stop being intrusive and be on your way, considering not only are you eavesdropping, but you’re taking part in gossip that could be entirely subjective you don’t know any of these people and it’s best not to make a prior illusion of someone you’ve yet to meet.

The last thing you hear as you leave the aisle back turned but recognize it to be the brown-haired boy's voice saying, “It sucks. I thought she liked me; Cameron has everything: the perfect family, house, and life; no wonder she doesn’t want someone like me when someone like him even offers. I’m just some kid who grew up on The Cut, so whatever, I guess, keep moving forward, right?” the red-haired boy pats his back, saying, “Don’t worry, bro, we got you Pogues for Life.”

Eventually, you reach the register, quickly pay, and hurry out the doors; your dad catches up behind you, pointing back and saying, “You find a looker in there cause if you did and you're too shy, I could—“

You cut him off with a rupture of laughter that leaves him wide-eyed, saying, “No, please, we all saw your wingman capabilities were subpar at best a few months ago; ring a bell, cute waiter on the royal Caribbean cruise we took for Mom's birthday.”

Your dad stops walking with you, turning to face you, becoming mock-offended, throwing his hand to his chest. “You smite me (F/N). That was one slip-up, and frankly, don’t blame me for the strawberry daiquiris; they did all the talking that night.”

You shake your head, giving him a skeptical look. “I don’t remember a glass of Strawberry and Rum saying to a fully grown man. Who was working; may I remind you. that if he didn’t already have a girlfriend and wanted a good one or just wanted a new one…I was single, and then leaving my freaking phone number on a napkin, nope, pretty sure it was you.”

You end poking him in the chest with a small laugh and kind eyes because it is a story to laugh about; he gives you a defeated look while pushing you both to walk back slowly. You don’t notice till halfway there your dad is relatively still, and his defeated look turns to regret or sorrow; “Dad.”

Right as you make it back to the caravan, your father looks up, eyes wide; he gently grabs your face, cupping your cheeks in his hands and placing a kiss on top of your head before pulling you in a vast Charlie-style bear hug, swinging you back and forth squeezing till you felt you couldn’t breathe but you laugh a hearty laugh.

Moments like these remind you of being a little girl and playing with your dad on the beach, collecting shells, and splashing and running along the water line. These moments made you feel free.

He sets you gently on the ground, saying as he’s hugging you, “This time is gonna be different, Peanut, I promise.” You hug him tighter, not precisely sure what he’s talking about, but getting an idea from the look of sorrow you saw shadow his face. You break apart, smiling at him and hopping in the car, driving to your new home.

And that’s when you finally saw him in the flesh; at first, you didn’t know who he was, but out of the group at Topper's playing basketball, he’s the one that immediately caught your eye.

When you saw him, you knew from that second he was not only gorgeous but so dangerous. he was playing ball with the boys, moderately sweaty but nowhere compared to the other two, who were nearly drenched, which showed his athleticism; he had hard lines in his eyebrows almost seeming to have a permanent frown on his face.

His hair, which was so sandy and dirty blond, reminded you of the beaches back home and their mix of yellow and brown sparkling slightly when the sun would glint on it, and it hung right in his eyes, causing him to have to move it out of his face.

When he finally took attention to your arrival, you knew he was looking; you could feel his piercing gaze laid on you like an ice cub was being set right on the back of your neck, but you always knew when all of them were looking wherever you went, you could feel them, but when you had Luca, that feeling didn’t matter. Then he’d gone missing, and he’s still lost.

Luca had been gone so long now with nothing but his necklace and a note; he was the one who made you grounded, but now you want to live cause what if you go missing tomorrow? Wouldn't you like to say you lived extraordinarily? Would you like to say you loved it greatly? that you had fought valiantly?

Eventually, hearing a knock on the door, you opened it for the boys. You intentionally didn’t turn down your music, and watching them react to you was humorous but endearing.

Specifically, you watched Rafe and how his muscles flexed and unflexed under his shirt and his hair falling right in his eyes, making you want to walk over and push it out of the way for him. When you finally meet with his eyes, he asks you a question, and you smirk, seeing how much his eyes remind you of the sea, its depths, and darkness swirling around with the orbs of his irises.

You have never believed in love at first sight; it was an act of cinematic thrill, but you’d never really seen it or experienced it. Luca wasn’t your love at first sight. You had known and loved Luca your whole life, but you were eight years old when you knew you were in love with Luca, and from that day on, you loved him, and you loved him entirely.

He was your twin flame or soulmate in whatever sense it is. He helped to complete a part of you, but now, with him gone. You are changing and growing; what do you do when you’re sitting across from a man who’s standing and looking into you already like you hung the sun and the stars and for a reason unknown, you like it, you enjoy him, how he carries himself, the charm, the mystery, the coldness. Then, he also seems to show you the sincerity, gentleness, and fondness he has in him that he saves for unique events.

In a moment, you know one thing, and it is Rafe Cameron. He is going to be the death of you; from the moment he sat the dresser down in the room and looked around, softly taking in your space, you knew he was not what they say he is, whatever they make him out to be, it’s not truly him.

You’re going to understand who he truly is, and you have the same thoughts repeatedly as he jumps in for the clothes drives, goes on a drive with your dad, not losing it for you having to help Diana the other day and tonight picking you up from the Boneyard.

Rafe Cameron may be slightly self-absorbed and moody, but he cares much more than he can say or physically show.

As you come to from your thoughts, you realize you’ve been aimlessly staring at the ceiling of the boat at some point while being engrossed by the idea of a man you have yet to learn more about.

One last time, you glance at the windows, swearing to see the curtains slowly swaying as if someone had just walked away, and the light suddenly went out; with that, you turn your back to the window and fall asleep, letting the waves cradle you softly in your dreams.

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In the room now creeping with darkness, Rafe lies in his bed, staring at the door. He had been pacing his floors since he came back in from all the thinking of almost kissing you.

He was right there, and just like everything, Sarah had to get her nose right in it. He thinks back to earlier in the day when his sister had also tried to pull shit with him in front of you about Emma, which was a low blow, considering how many times Rafe has covered for her.

At one point, Rafe looked out to the boat, anchored at the end of their dock, looking to see if he saw any remnants of you sitting on the bow, looking out at the waves that are currently sparkling silver, with the light of the moon, beaming down onto it.

When Rafe sees nothing but darkness, the pushing and pulling of the waves, and the boat rocking next to the dock, he walks away from the window, lies down and shuts off the light.

Still thinking about you, in many ways, especially how you felt pressed so close to his body, the warmth you emitted on the ride back to Tannyhill making him feel like he was wrapped in a blanket, his thoughts get muddled between his perverse and benevolent thoughts. Still, one’s he’s not willing to tell you just yet.

Rafe doesn’t sleep the rest of the night; he sees you every time he closes his eyes, which in turn makes his heart and mind pulse rapidly, causing Rafe to toss and turn all night, getting no sleep.

He finally succumbs to sleep after he sees the beginning of the orange and pink shades of the sunrise gleaming through his window, putting a smile on his face, comforting him enough to fall asleep thinking about the way you looked when you blushed at him, calling you beautiful.

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The next day, you stayed for brunch with the Cameron family, minus Rafe; he didn’t show up, and nobody was sure where he was, considering his door was closed and no one saw him. They asked Sarah to knock, and she returned, saying, “He’s still sleeping, I think.”

It was lovely getting to know your new friend and her family and learning about their dynamic.

Everyone sat laughing and talking when Sarah kicked your foot under the table, making you look up to her; she nodded towards the Druthers. You see a boy who’s jumping onto the boat; you shake your head, indicating you’ll cover for her as she slowly gets up, saying Excuse me quietly and making her way to the dock and down on the boat; no one pays mind to her leaving though you can faintly see her before suddenly Ward says to you.

“So (F/N) what made your family move from California to the Outerbanks?” you look up at nearly the whole family looking at you anticipatory; you clear your throat and take a sip of water. The easy answer is your dad’s surfing business wanting to expand.

The honest answer was a lot; though you never wanted to be home, it seems like you could never leave home; it was never-ending the cycle of you feeling Luca. Whenever you took a step out the door, you’d start to sob and turn right back around and go in again. Since coming to the Outerbanks, you’ve been out more than you have in the year since you got the call: “There was a storm. Luca and Cameron, they can’t find them, but they will”

That sentence rings through your head, making you feel like spiders are crawling in your stomach and creeping up to create intricate webs on your bones.

You smile the best you can, noticing Sarah walking back to the table, looking somewhat frustrated with her conversation, simply replying, “It was time for a change, and Dad wanted to expand.” before you can say anything.

Sarah plops down as if nothing happened and says, “Sorry, I forgot this on the boat. What did I miss?” she smiles and holds up her phone even though Sarah has had her phone the whole time looking at you before you can say anything Ward says “Just getting to know (F/N)” he smiles at you.

“What does your mother do again?” you go to answer, but Sarah says, “C’mon, Dad, let the girl eat!” he chuckles, and you say, “It’s alright, she’s a history teacher.”

You check your phone and see your reminder going off. “I’m so sorry to be so rude, but I just realized my mother needs me to help her today, so I have to go,” Sarah smirks at you, knowing exactly where you are off to

You exchange pleasantries, secretly reminding Sarah to text you later about the boat. She vehemently shakes her head, and you’re rushing through Tannyhill, bag in hand when suddenly, you run straight into a firm, broad chest.

Long, strong arms immediately wrapped around your waist to protect you from falling on your butt. The fresh woody and citrus notes seem to encircle your mind and body, and immediately after that, you go from tense to relaxed, your head resting with your ear against the chest of the person and your heart thumping rapidly. You smile, closing your eyes and saying, “Rafe.”

Rafe's arms tense around you, and you hear him huff out a breath, looking up into his cosmically blue irises; he’s already looking down with a slight smirk when he says, “What’s got you in such a rush, Angel?” his husky voice dancing through your ears.

Rafe is shocked to see that you’re still here, and he’s even more shocked you’re still allowing him to hold you in his arms like this.

Last night, the fact that you ran away with Sarah so fast when you almost kissed made him think you didn’t mean any of it and maybe you’d gotten drunk at that kegger.

Now, though, as he looks down, you rest your chin on his chest, looking up at him; you look so small to him, saying in your discernible melodic voice

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to bump into you. I’m off to help my parents.” Rafe grunts out a croaky sounding “Where sweetheart?” and hearing how he said it made you start to word vomit everything you can think on the spot.

“Dad wants to make new advertisements and asked me to accompany the ambassadors today for a photoshoot. I have an eye for that, at least by Charlie’s standards. Also, since it’s about being here and he wants me to take over eventually, I’m supposed to be in the commercialization like how dad used to, and I’m just nervous.” you giggle slightly, realizing if you kept babbling; he’d stand, and hold you while you did.

Noticing this, you went to step back, but his hand didn’t leave your waist. Your hands dropped to his, laying them gently over his hands.

You both look back and forth at each other for a moment, searching the other's eyes, not knowing what to do or what move to make. Rafe had the urge to drag you up the stairs to his room, throw you down on his bed, and kiss you on every expanse of skin exposed to the eyes he had roaming you.

You feel the look he gives you like an apex predator hunting small game, waiting for the moment it turns its head to check in the other direction before it pounces; in the few seconds you stand there, you can feel the way his fingertips dig into your side like he’s afraid you’ll vanish before him for some reason that feeling makes you pull towards him.

Both of you feel the pull between you like an invisible string slowly yanking until it creates the perfected knots; your faces are even closer, then you can feel his hot breath fanning across your cheeks

Rafe gives it one nudge, pulling your body closer so both of your chests meet, eyes still locked; he could feel every curve and angle of your body pressing perfectly against him; it left his skin tingling all over his body, touching you like this.

He also could feel how warm you were, like you’d been laying out in the sun tanning on the hottest day of summer, but it made the blood that usually runs cold with anticipation get warmer. He leaned down just a bit to ghost his lips over yours.

In the lightest voice he could muster, he asks, “Would you like an escort to this event, ma’am?” he watches the corners of your lips curl, making his stomach twist and turn and a smile creep on his face.

You say, lips almost brushing his back. “I can protect myself this time, big guy, but I appreciate the offer.” Before Rafe can register what you’re thinking, you’re leaning into his lips, placing such a chaste peck it left his lips feeling like hot coals had burned them.

The next thing he knows, he hears your melodic laughter bouncing off the walls as you skip towards his door and smile from ear to ear, just like the day you met. Rafe couldn’t move, shocked not only that you had already kissed him but also that he didn’t react to it.

He watched your back, knowing it was in your nature to vanish. The best part about you is that you bring all of this joy wherever you go, and when you’re gone, you take it with you, but the aftershock of your nature leaves ripples like waves in the ocean, which seems to be the constant reminder of you to Rafe.

Your (H/C) hair bounces from side to side, wisps flying backward toward him, almost calling him to follow where your footsteps take him.

Once you make it to the front door with it slightly ajar, the sun creating a halo, you look over your shoulder to Rafe, saying, “See you around, Reef.” you are out the door before he can respond.

Rafe takes a minute to readjust himself and rewind what just happened in his mind because he, for the first time in his life, doesn’t know what to do with you.

It seems like when you’re around, his mind appears to shut down while also going into overdrive. After a few minutes of contemplating, he turns to walk outside to his family and is met face to face with Sarah, who’s looking at him disgusted.

Immediately, Rafe looks at her with a scowl, saying, “Why are you looking at me like that?” Sarah scoffs at him and walks right past, saying nothing and stomping her way up the stairs.

This entire show of emotion makes Rafe roll his eyes, yelling at her up the stairwell, “Drop the fucking attitude, Sarah. You don’t need to be so god damn difficult always; speak, stop acting like a child.” with this, he hears her door slam shut making him stomp his way to the kitchen huffing about her ruining everything for him.

On the walls outside Tannyhill, after taking a leap of faith and kissing Rafe, you sat in your Jeep outside the home, looking up at the vast white building and thinking everything anyone says about him is wrong; he’s just a boy who wants to be loved.

Whenever you do something and turn back to see if he’s looking, his eyes never seem to leave. When you call, he comes. He is always saying what you feel you need to hear. These thought makes you giddy and send you to The Hut to meet your parents, feeling like you’re on a cloud, gracing your face with a brilliant smile and a new rhythm in your heart.

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The next day, Sarah and Rose came over to invite you and your mother to go and sit with The Mason family later that morning, and you both gladly obliged.

They were a kind, small family of just Mr. and Mrs. Mason; they also had a sweet little girl who was only six years old; her name was Ellie; when the mothers were talking, you and Sarah were sitting on the porch steps looking around at the damage Hurricane Agatha created neither of you talking just observing the surroundings every once and awhile Sarah would text presumably Topper on her phone.

At some point, Ellie comes up to you, tugging on your pants to get you to look down, and she asked you if you would walk around the yard with her; you looked to her mother, and she shook her head, waving her hand and saying it was fine so you kneeled next to the girl smiling holding her by the shoulders saying “I would love to go on a walk with you” she looks at you wide-eyed and whispering, “Do you think Sarah will come to?”

Sarah picked up her head, hearing this on the spot. She looked like she was in a world of her own before. Her eyes are soft but show such care as she says, “I would love to join your walk.” she puts her hand out for Ellie, and you all walk down the porch and around the yard, talking about princesses, her Barbie’s village, and her Elephant that’s been missing since the storm.

At some point, you’re sitting on the dock while Sarah and Ellie walk back and forth down it, and you see three figures emerge from the side of the house; two of the boys wave towards the mothers sitting on the porch, and one stands with a drink and sunglasses staring right at the dock which is so obviously Rafe.

You look away, somewhat nervous seeing him after the kiss; when you glance away, you spot what looks like a stuffed animal under wires and grass.

In a moment, you stand calling Sarah and Ellie, pointing and asking, “Did you take your elephant in that boat?” she shakes her head vehemently. This makes Sarah kneel, asking about her stuffed animal and then saying she’ll get it.

“Sarah, are you sure we don’t know if those wires are live?” she smiles and laughs, waving you off. “It’s fine (F/N). I doubt it, but I can be careful.” She starts to climb onto the plank, and you kneel, taking Ellie and wrapping your arm around her shoulder, taking a step back from the dock, rubbing the side of her shoulder gently.

Rafe talks with Topper and Kelce, eyes tracing from his sister being stupid to you. He can’t help but smirk and sip his drink, thinking about how good you look, being caring and especially caring towards a child. You seem to be protecting the little girl, which makes Rafe smirk deeper into his drink.

At this point, all the moms are yelling, and Rose has come down trying to coax Sarah. Then none, to Rafe's surprise, Sarah pretends to be shocked, which makes everyone except Rafe and you panic.

Topper yells, rushing forward, and the moms gasp; you have the little girl tight in your arm, eyes wide in shock, and Ellie screams, “Sarah!” starting to cry; you pull her head to your neck, gently shushing her, saying, “No, no, she’s okay, it’s okay,” he can hear the slight quiver your voice makes which makes him roll his eyes scowling at Sarah knowing she’s doing this purposefully.

Your head pops up at the sound of Sarah laughing. Like little Ellie in your arms, your horrified faces turn to small smirks at the show Sarah put on. He takes one more look at you, waiting to see if maybe you'd look back, but you don’t, so he turns to head to Tannyhill.

After all of this, your mother calls your name, holding her phone and shaking it, “(F/N) Crush Waves, we gotta go.” your eyes go wide, remembering that you’re meant to be going to promote at the Charleston convention center they were putting on a Surf and Water sports event your dad wanted to go and set up a booth for some networking of the new branch of The Hut.

Once Sarah is back by Ellie, you rush off, but not before you look back to where Rafe was standing before, seeing him disappearing around the corner, frowning but continuing your pace off and out with your mom.

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Sarah🎀🦋: Want to come to the church's beach cleanup? Save the sea animals and get sand between your toes. Plus, your lead singer is going 😏

You wake up the following day to this text from Sarah, making you laugh and immediately messaging back.

(F/N)🗺️🌏: Sure, you can always use a little sand and some Kelce in your life.

You immediately get ready wearing shorts and a cropped shirt that says St. Jeffersons Athletics, which used to be your brother's years ago. You brush your hair and teeth, throw on some mascara, walk over to Topper's house, and knock.

The door is swung open, and you are met face to face with Topper's mother smiling “(F/N). What a pleasure to see you; what brings you here?” You go to speak, but you see Topper's head pop up from behind his mom, saying, “Hey (F/N), come in, Mom, she’s coming to the church to clean up with us.” she moves, and you walk through the door.

Topper takes you up the stairs to his room; you walk in to see Kelce lounging back, playing video games; when his head turns and sees you, he jumps up, walks over to you, and wraps an arm around you. “how are you, girl?” you smile hugging tightly back before you both step back while letting go saying “Pretty good going as usual” you all make friendly conversation for a few minutes before heading off to the beach.

Topper left separately from you and Kelce on his boat to pick up Sarah while Kelce drove you to the spot, allowing conversation.

He showed you different places as you passed on the island while listening and car partying to music; at one point, he stopped at a house and said he’d be right back, and you presumed it was his house by the way he slammed the door.

When Kelce re-emerged from the house, he looked at you, smiling, holding a considerably large water bottle, shaking it in the air, hopping back in the car, and handing it to you.

Your face scrunches, and you lift the bottle to your eyes, inspecting it. “What is this exactly?” you ask questioningly; Kelce laughs at the look on your face. “Don't worry there, pretty girl, just some fuel for us for clean up; trust me, these things tend to be a little taxing.” With that, he pulled off from the house towards the beach.

When you got to the beach, you listened to the pastor talk a little before he sent you all off; most of the event, you spent with Wheezie and Kelce so as not to intrude on their time. Sarah did, although, come and ask how the surf event went, and you let her know only a few small league surfers showed up this time, but Dad's table ran well; he ran out of business cards to distribute.

Sarah also ranted to you about the attitude John B gave her and how he stole scuba and got fired, blaming Sarah, but she didn’t tell Ward. You frowned at the fact he stole, not seeing the reason he would need to return something you’re stealing; essentially, the boy lost a job over the air, but you shrugged, saying, “I don’t know, Sarah, he’s gone through a lot maybe give him a little slack, he’s alone now. he misses his dad and is trying to figure it out on his own.” she stares a moment kinda shaking her head and squinting her eyes.

She also asked if you could help her cover if Ward calls looking for her and says she’s staying with you, and you agree; after these conversations, Topper comes back to walk with Sarah a bit, leaving you to talk to Wheezie also at some point during the conversation Kelce had disappeared.

As you walk up and down cleaning the surf with Wheezie, you hear her scoff, watching Topper and her sister; you look at her, eyebrow arched, asking, “What is it, Wheez?”

She whips her head to you with a scowl. “Sarah is what it is? She has been sneaking around, and she’s not telling me anything, but I saw John B leave the boat the other day, and she’s been sleeping there; she’s just being weird.”

Wheezie continues walking with you, throwing trash she sees in bags and stomping her feet; this makes you slow a bit, and say to her, “I used to think the same thing about my brother until he covered for me one day when I really needed him to.”

You stop waiting for the girl to turn to you, and she does, getting ready to say something, but before she can, you smile, cutting her off. “You may not understand or like your sister's actions or decisions, but she’s the only sister you've got, and she’s always going to love and protect you no matter how mad you get. Just remember that.” she sits thinking for a moment, slowly shaking her head

When you feel an arm wrap around your shoulder, you stiffen slightly until you see the mystery liquid from earlier shoved in your face; you hear Kelce through a chuckle behind you, saying, “Need a fill-up.”

You grab the bottle, take a sip, and wince at its strength. You hand it back to Kelce, and he walks to Sarah and Topper, you and Wheezie not far behind, and has them take a drink. Wheezie grabs it, making your jaw drop, and you start laughing while Sarah asks Wheezie, “Since when did you start drinking?” She shrugs and smiles. “Today.” This makes Sarah scold Kelce.

You all giggle, and suddenly, the Pastor walks around the corner to ask how you’re all doing. Topper calls to him, “Looking great, sir, we’re,” Kelce adds, “clearing the stretch.” he hides the water bottle of alcohol while you and Sarah say simultaneously, “Just hydrating.”

Eventually, it is the end prayer, and you guys are heading out; you tell Kelce you will head back with Topper and Sarah to help her on mission ‘Ward doesn't need to know.’

Sarah will ride back to your house with you, so Ward thinks she’s there. So Tooper drives you back to Tannyhill, and when you see Rafe's bike out front, it makes your heart skip.

Suddenly, Wheezie is pushing past you and Sarah, fast walking on the dock back to the house; you both exchange a bemused look and follow her slowly into the house.

As you go upstairs, you can hear Wheezie getting sick, and you look to Sarah, who shakes her head, letting you know she’ll be good. You walk to Sarah’s room, peeking to see if Rafe is home, but his door is closed, so you go into Sarah’s room, choose a book from her bookshelf, and lie on her bed looking through it.

When Sarah comes back, she asks you to talk to Ward with her, so you make your way down to the porch; on the way there, you and Sarah can hear Ward scolding Rafe; you stand back while Sarah sneaks up to listen; you can hear little bits, but it just makes you look down at your shoes to keep yourself from feeling too much guilt intruding.

At one point, you catch Ward's voice becoming more stern than before. “You need to get it together, Rafe, or you can go live on the Cut.” You don’t hear a response, but you do listen to him raising his voice at him and repeating himself and scolding Rafe for laughing at him.

What makes your blood boil is when you hear him say to his son, “Now get out of here; I’m sick of looking at you.” They go back and forth until Rafe walks through the door. And he hears Sarah, and he looks at her with so much coldness, scoffing and turning.

When you both make eye contact, it’s like everything goes on pause; you go to say his name, but the rage and wounded look in his eyes overtake you; he shakes his head and continues walking; you follow slightly, saying, “Rafe-wait” and your heart dropped when he kept going straight out the door.

Turning back to Sarah when she called your name, a slightly confused look shakes her to the porch; you slowly and cautiously move towards the porch, now feeling somewhat different about the man on the other side.

When Rafe made it to his bike, he whispered a hard “fuck” and then got on his motorcycle off to Barry’s to try and make up for all of this.

————————————————————————

On the drive to your house, music plays in the background; you don’t say much as you get closer; you finally speak up, saying, “Does Ward always talk to Rafe like that?” Sarah looks at you, squinting slightly, almost like she doesn’t know why you care. “I know he may seem charming to you (F/N), but it’s an act. Rafe sees everything and anything as property, and the more you have, the better you are; he’s got problems.” She shakes her head, looking forward, and you park the Jeep in your driveway.

Sarah turns, grabbing you by the hand, looking into your eyes, an earnest look on her face. “I know you may like him (F/N), but I care for you, and I don’t want him to mess around with you as he does with everybody else.” you slowly shake your head and say, “We’ll have to see what time will do.” with that, you’re slipping your hand from hers and opening the door smiling your usual smile but with slight discomfort and disappointment shadowing you “Have fun with Top Sarah.” she starts to say “(F/N)—“ but you’ve already closed the Jeeps door and are disappearing into your house.

When you enter, your mom and dad see you come through the kitchen entryway to the stairs, your mother trying to stop you at the bottom. “Hey Peanut, how was the beach cleanup?” both your parents stair at you, expecting excitement as usual, but they’re met with your back, and you say, “Fine.” they let you continue up the stairs after you are gone from view your parents look at each other, and your mom says “I’ve got it.”

When your mom knocks on the door, you are lying on your bed holding the sea shell bracelet you and Luca made when you were eight.

He had gone and found all the shells, and your parents helped you both get the tools to glue hooks, and you made it a bracelet, then Luca insisted you keep it. Sometimes, you wish you could ask him what to do cause he was the only one who knew you.

You hear a knock and sit up to see your mom open the door; she comes to sit in your bed with you a moment before saying, “Honey, what’s going on?” you sit for a short time, and she sits next to you, rubbing circles in your upper back.

After a while, you speak up, “The people out here seem so mixed up, like that Ward Cameron mom today. I literally heard him say to his son’s face he is sick of looking at him who even says that to their child.”

You throw your head in your hand, shaking it. “Also, there is Sarah; don’t get me wrong, I like her, but she’s so judgmental of him.” Saying this makes you stand, turning to look at your mom. “This whole island does, Mom; he’s been so sweet; he reminds me so much of Luca.” this part makes you pause, looking wide-eyed at your mom, who looks back softly.

A long moment passed, and your mom stood walking to you, taking your shoulder in her hands, brushing a hair from your eyes, and gently saying, “My sweet girl, the world will sometimes turn the victim into a villain, but you, my girl are so bright do what you know best ride the waves let it take you where you know” she kisses your forehead and leaves you to think.

————————————————————————

A few hours later, Rafe’s at Topper's getting ready for the party; when he’s in Topper's room grabbing the coke from his bag, he sees you lying on your window seal, looking out towards the bit of the sea. You can see at the back edge of the house, and your windows open, you are singing along to “In My Mind’ by Lyn Lapid

Rafe sees the sadness in your eyes; even from this far, your brow is creased, which makes him want to come over and run his thumb to make your face rest; it is too pretty to look so sad.

He opens Topper’s window, hearing fully now your voice rings out, singing; he sits on the edge and watches as your voice carries through the window.

Your skin seems to have a soft glow on it from the lights of your room. Your hair was wet like you’d let it dry after jumping straight in the ocean, creating beachy waves, making it look layered in beautiful shades of (H/C).

He listens to the words in the song but in your tone, making it feel like it’s just for him; he hears you sing

“Oh, but darling, running ain't enough to escape from

The monsters in my brain

People say I'm quiet most of the time

If only you knew what goes on in my mind.”

At this point, he can’t help but lean out, calling to you, “Your voice is very angelic; it reminds me of something.” your head whips towards Rafe's face, beaming, “Hey, Rafe.” immediately, your face drops.

You say, trying not to be loud but just enough for him to hear you. “are you okay?” he shakes his head, smiling. “Don’t worry bout me, angel; say how you would like to come to the party tonight.” you nod your head immediately, making Rafe smirk as you close your window.

He watches you scurry around your room, getting ready and still smiling, hoping for something good.

————————————————————————

By the time you make it over to Topper's house, there are people everywhere, and you are bumping into someone everywhere you walk till you feel a warm hand grabbing yours; you meet the smiling face of Kelce with a drink in his other hand. “Hey, I didn’t know you were coming.” you smile back and move your face to his ear cause the music and people are so loud, saying to him, “I wasn’t, but someone asked me to come.”

This makes Kelce smile almost shyly, and he turns his head to your ear as he says, “Cmom, let’s get you a drink, and we’ll chill by the pool; it’s less crowded.” you shake your head, eyes scanning the crowd for any sign of Rafe but you don’t see anything over the number of people. It’s so crowded you kept getting pushed, so you’ll hope he looks for you soon.

You were by the pool sipping a Gin and Sprite, talking to Kelce and a girl named Myra when you heard people yelling, “Toppers on the roof.” you looked over, laughing, knowing this is exactly what your friends back home would do Kelce nudges you whispering “10 bucks he belly flops” This makes you laugh throwing your head back grabbing his arm to steady yourself

You look at him with seriousness, saying, “I’m not gonna bet on my friend's pain, but 20 bucks he gets Sarah out there with him, and she freaks out halfway down,” giving him an evil smile.

He laughs, throwing his arms around your shoulders and pulling you closer to his side. You wrap your arm around his waist while he says, “You know, I like how you think I think we’re gonna be real good friends.”

You laugh again, laying your head on his shoulder, saying, “We are friends, weirdo,” watching Sarah and Tooper jump from the roof, you both celebrating for them and laughing as he hands you a 20 since you called it.

From afar, Rafe could feel his chest constrict, and his blood started to boil. You and Kelce were looking way too cozy for his liking. He didn’t even know you’d made it here yet, that is, until you laughed at Kelce and ran off with the girl Myra he knew from being in school.

Rafe watches Kelce's eyes trace the other girl, not you smirking; he walks off into the party until he can sell the coke; he can’t get distracted.

He’s got to do that before he can talk to you and do the things he’s been thinking about.

————————————————————————

When you eventually see Rafe again, you walk up from behind with Myra beside you. You look at the table covered in drinks and money and some white powder. All of the girls are talking and staring at Rafe, and he’s charming; the one he sits next to is bumping knees with him, and he leans back all of a sudden like he’s relaxed. Topper walks by you looking pissed off; you try and say

“Hey, top you alr—“ but he walks past you, and Rafe notices him, bringing the girl’s attention to Topper; catching your eyes for a moment, you frown, looking from him to the enormous group of women to the powder and he continues catching your eyes every few seconds as he talks.

When you see Kelce making his way to you and Myra, you nod at him and slowly disappear into the house and push through the house until you make it to the front quickly; you make it to your home and slowly and quietly go upstairs, laying in the darkness of your room staring at your ceiling.

You thought about the act Rafe was putting on, and it makes you think back to the hardware store and all the comments about someone named Emma.

Was Rafe really what they made him out to be? Are you just another venture to conquer for him? These thoughts make your mind spin like a whirlpool getting out of control.

————————————————————————

After hours, you can still hear the music from Topper's house, but it’s gotten much quieter. You lay looking at the photos, missing home, your friends, and yours, and Lucas spots everything that reminds you of him.

Then, like a message from heaven, you hear the pit-pat of something hitting your window; you get up and peek out to see at the bottom, Rafe has little rocks from Topper's driveway and is tossing them at your window

When Rafe eventually sees your face appear in the window, he sighs in relief after he did that last sale and bumps with Topper; he had gotten up to go over to you, but you are already gone.

Kelce said he saw you go into the house, so Rafe checked everywhere; he even accidentally walked in on some couple doing it in Topper guest’s bathroom, having to do a slight double take to make sure your cute floral skirt you wore was nowhere in sight lucky for him it was not you.

You open the window, saying with a smile and harshly joking tone, “You’re gonna break my window there, Romeo.” he chuckles, looking at his feet, saying back while looking back to you, “Can I come in?” you shake your head motioning towards the front.

That’s where you meet at the door; you open it, and he can see the darkness casting shadows on your (E/C) eyes; you immediately grab his hand and drag him with soft feet up the stairs; he follows willingly, and you guide him to your room where the window his now closed along with the shades this makes his head tilt, but his head turns to you when he hears your quiet voice say “What was all that about Rafe.”

He stutters for a few seconds, but you stand patiently, waiting for a response before he sighs and says, “It was coke.” your eyes start to get comprehensive, but he rushes to you, taking you in his arms. You stiffen slightly and say, “It’s just a party fix, angel, not a regular thing. Plus, I was selling for a friend tonight.” you start relaxing, but he can feel you shiver slightly.

“Be careful doing that kinda stuff, Rafe; you could get hurt, or what if you get add—“Before you can finish, he cuts you off, taking a finger to your chin and lifting it so he can meet those gorgeous eyes looking back and forth between both of them mapping both of them out and how your face was twisted in worry and care.

Rafe smiles at the look, making a warmth spread throughout him, whispering as he gets closer, “Are you worried about me, angel?” you smile shyly, simply shaking your head, and that’s when Rafe leans down and captures your lips with his.

Slowly, you feel yourself nearly melting backward; you take a step back, dragging him with you, and he feels it too, the way your tiny fists curl into his shirt; he keeps on walking with you slowly, letting you guide him, lips barely breaking contact until, eventually, you make contact with the mattress at the back of your knees. You almost fall, but Rafe grabs your lower back, putting his arm out, gently laying you back, and caging you underneath him.

You both break the kiss, breathing heavily, staring at each other, almost shocked. Then Rafe feels your small hands come up to cup his cheeks, pulling him back down this time, you kissing harsher.

He feels the tip of your tongue brush his lips, and he opens his mouth, taking control and exploring the sweet taste of your mouth; he runs his tongue gently on the underside of yours, coaxing a small moan to ring through Rafe's ears.

You slowly run your hands up from his cheeks to his neck, splaying your fingers through his hair, feeling how each strand slides easily past your fingers.

He’s kissing down your jaw to your neck, hands trailing your sides until one ghosts the side of your breast and moving back down, you quickly grab his wrist, moving it right onto your left breast, putting your hand over his, moving his to grip the fat of your breast this makes Rafe moan and grind his hips down in between your legs setting off a small whimper feeling his hard length pressing your core he hums a gruff “Do you see what you do to me, princess.”

Suddenly, Rafe feels you pushing him back, and he quickly moves, thinking he’s gone too far, when all of a sudden, he’s staring at you, who’s wearing a smirk;

You remove your shirt, tossing it to the side; he eyes your breasts lying on your chest; they look so soft, and as your chest has made contact with the cold air of your room, your nipples perk slightly.

Rafe's eyes trail down, watching how your figure maps out from your chest to your stomach down to the swell of your hips and to your thighs still lying on the bed.

Rafe looks at your smile and your eyes. He then just quickly removes his shirt, dropping to his knees in front of you, kissing your knees up your thighs, whispering, “I didn’t believe there was any way you could get more beautiful, but you’re always proving me wrong, princess” you lean your head back enjoying the feeling of his lips pressing to your skin like a car heater getting warm after driving five minutes in the brisk winter air.

He makes it to the bottom hem of your sleep shorts with his lips looking up at you as his finger hooks into the waistband of the shorts. “Can I?” Saying nothing, you lift your hips, and he quickly tugs away your shorts, revealing your olive green laced bikini-cut panties.

Rafe takes a considerable breath laying his head face down on your thigh; he can feel his cock throbbing painfully below, leaking precum onto his boxers under the shorts he wore. he sighs once more, saying with his head still down, “I’ve wanted you so bad since I saw you, but I don’t want to fuck this up” you guide him to look at you.

“I want you, Rafe,” and with that, Rafe had his fingers hooked in your panties, pulling them down and kissing up and down your knees to your thighs; you sighed, relaxing back, feeling his lips and hands trail you when he hooks his hand under one of your knees; you quickly allow him to pull open legs and he lets out a breath saying

“Holy shit, you’re dripping wet, angel. I haven’t even touched you yet.” You whimper from the cold contact from the air but also his words when, all of a sudden, you can feel his hot breath right next to your core, and then you feel his lips pressing a chaste kiss to your soaking wet bud.

Rafe starts to slowly suck on your clit, one hand coming up to tease your hole, making circles around the opening. This sensation causes you to squirm, making him smirk a moment, saying, “You like it, princess?” you shake your head rapidly, stating, “Yes, yes, please more.” he immediately dives back in, unable to hold back, hearing you plead.

As he goes back in, he slowly slides a digit into your tight hole simultaneously while sucking your clit, feeling you immediately squeezing his finger tightly and pulling him in. he licks strips up and down your clit circling his tongue when he gets to the top.

He hears you making a hissing noise, so he stops moving his finger and looks up immediately, asking, “Does that hurt?” you shake your head, eyes closed, and head back. “so good, Rafe” you let out a pant making Rafe slowly add another finger moving them skillfully in and out of you which makes your back arch off the bed he pulls his head back lips glistening with your wetness “you taste so fucking sweet, but you look even better angel god damn your killing me” the hand that was fingering kept its pace. His other came down to trace the hard length in his shorts.

He kept his pace, looking at you and hand back to gripping any part of your body he could reach. He could feel your slight fluttering around his digits, and then your voice came in a small pant “I need to feel you, Rafe.” he wastes no time removing his fingers from you and reaching his hand to your mouth; you open and gladly swirl your tongue around his fingers, moaning.

Rafe lets out a groan, removing his finger and leaning down, grabbing your chin, kissing you hard, teeth and tongues clashing for dominance.

He feels your small hands tug on his shorts and say, “Please, Rafe,” which makes him chuckle at the whine you let out when you can’t pull them down.

Brushing a hair out of his eyes, he reaches into the waistband, untying his short's drawstring. He cups your cheek with a hand, looking into your eyes, and says, “Are you sure you want this? Cause once I have you, I don’t know if I’ll ever stop wanting you.”

The way you answer him is by tugging his shorts down to his knees and letting them fall the rest of the way to the floor.

Then you fall back on your bed laughing, hands behind your head, body strewn on the messy sheets from your moving around; you are smiling at him like he’s the only thing in the world.

Rafe smiles at you and climbs on top of you, slowly pumping his length; he’s smiling down at you. “You are something you know that right?” you smile, placing a kiss on the apple of his cheek. “says yo—“

Rafe doesn’t let you finish as he slowly presses his length into your opening, making your eyes blow out, and your mouth fall open; he brushes hair from your face, saying softly, “Shh angel, let me make you feel good.”

He moves his hips slightly at first. The feeling of your pussy pulling him in makes him groan and bury his head to your neck, sucking lightly on the skin, moaning at how much he feels you stretch.

You bring your hands to his back, nails dragging down the skin lightly, whispering in his ear, “Rafe.” this makes him rut his hips faster, feeling your legs shaking already, making him groan. “You like that, princess.”

“Yess,” you said breathlessly, gripping the back of his neck till it turned white under the pressure. He groans, feeling the way you tighten around him, and he lifts your leg to get a better angle, the other hand coming down to rub circles on your clit, laying close to hear the little breaths and whimpers you release.

When you connect your lips to his, you can’t help but release a moan at all the tension he seems to be pulling from your body; he smirks but starts to feel his balls tighten and hips stutter.

When he quickly leans back to pound into you, you bring your now free hands to grip and massage the flesh of your bare breasts. He moans, saying, “You’re gonna be the death of me, Angel.” his unsteady thrusts go faster. “God, you are so sexy.”

The pace he’s set has you whimpering and moaning loudly until you are nearly lifting your hips. He has to push you back into the bed. He's pressing so hard you know it will be bruised tomorrow.

At one point, he seems to brush the spot deep in you, sending a moan tumbling from your mouth with the words, “Gonna cum, Raf—“ but right as you are about to say it, your whining and cumming all over his dick.

The feeling of your pussy fluttering and pulsating on his cock makes him thrust one last time, letting out a throaty “Fuck yes, baby,” releasing his seed deep in you falling to hold himself over you catching his breath and leaving chaste kisses to your jaw, neck, and cheek.

He pulls out of you, and you can feel his cum leaking down your legs; he quickly walks to your en-suite bathroom, grabs a towel, and gets one side damp, walking back and cleaning you up, whispering sweet nothings about how your body is a dream and how beautiful you look even in the darkness.

Eventually, after you both clean, you crawl under your comforter, lifting it to him, who’s still standing on the side of your bed; he tosses the towel toward your laundry hamper, lifting the blanket and putting one arm under your head, you immediately curl into his chest.

You nuzzle your head, feeling his warmth and woody citrusy scent and rhythmic heartbeat. Rafe lays his other arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer, feeling your even breaths and smelling the ocean breeze and coconut scent. Both of you falling into a comfortable sleep feeling warm and content.

————————————————————————

The following day, you woke to the side Rafe occupied the night before, empty but still slightly warm; you blinked the sleep from your eyes a few times to see a sticky note on your vanity mirror; you hopped out of your bed, pulling it off, reading.

Angel Girl,

Leaving you in bed like this is nearly killing me, but Topper made me promise to golf with him. Meet at the Marina later. I’ll take you out. Thank you for last night, Angel. You are a dream.

- Reef ❤️

You smile, reading it, and hear a knock and your dad call through the door. “You decent?” you call back to him, hurrying for clothes. “one sec,” throwing on shorts and an old school shirt from last night and kicking your panties under your bed. “Come in.”

Your dad walks in smiling, carrying what seems to be some folder. “Hey, peanut, you don’t look ready.” you tilt your head questioningly, and he chuckles. “Remember we’re meeting Mr. Orien for golf; he wants to talk the deal over a game.” your eyes widen, and you shake your head, running off to the closet. “Yeah, sorry, slept badly. Be down in five.” your dad nods his head, leaving the room, saying, “Don’t rush too much. You’ll give yourself a heart attack,” and closes your door.

Then, 15 minutes later, you were in the car with your dad on your way to the Island Club for the business meeting; when you got there, you spotted Topper's truck, but you knew it was unlikely for you to see Rafe till later

Nearly half an hour later, in the middle of you and your dad golfing, you are on the third hole, and you tell your dad you want to walk to the main clubhouse and grab a soda; he shakes his head, knowing you weren’t the biggest fan of golfing.

On your walk back, you are thinking about Rafe and how you hadn’t felt like you did last night in a long time. It has been a year since kissing someone, still holding out for Luca. Something was different about Rafe; he reminds you of Luca so much in so many ways but is so mysterious in others.

You’re broken from your stupor when there is commotion by some voices ahead of you; suddenly, you hear a distinguishing voice: “Hey, Rafe, Calm Down, man.” Then clear as day, you heard him scream, “Stay down bitch” You walk as quick as you can toward their voices coming into view; you watch as Rafe slams a golf club right next to the ground by someone who looks familiar.

You stand watching him as he yells at the boy on the ground; your heart shatters watching the man who was so gentle with you the night before going as far as to leave you a note to wake up to hurting someone and being so vulgar. You watch him crouch over the boy, and Topper turns to see you, making you hurry into the bush so that he can’t catch you.

Rafe finally diffused slightly but still taunted the boy, Tooper looking back to where you were standing, eyes trailing to you, giving you a look of pity and fear. Your back goes straight against the tree as you hear them running off, and you round the corner to see the boy rolling on the ground, trying to get back up.

You rush, and as you get closer, you see Pope nearly tripping over the sand, and you drop on your knees next to him, hands ghosting over his body, saying, “Oh my god, oh my god, are you okay? I’m so sorry. What can I do ?”

He groans and says, “It’s not your fault, but help up would be much appreciated.” you stick your hand out and pull him up and help lightly brush the sand from his body

You look down and help pick up what he had. Pope is still standing. “I’m sorry, Pope, I can’t believe the—“ he grabs the things in your hand, turning while saying, “Just go (F/N); you don’t need to be seen with a Pouge.” he turns, walking. “Pope—wait.” you try and catch up to him. He is gone before you can even try to say anything else.

Hanging your head, you go back to your dad; when you reach him, he sees the look on your face, and when you sit in the golf cart, not moving or talking, he walks up asking.

“What’s up, Peanut?” you shake your head, eyes scanning the grass for the boy you saw who you thought you had all wrong.

Your mind is racing a million miles thinking about last night and how you felt so connected with him, and then seeing how he treated Pope shocked you. It made you second guess everything you thought.

Maybe Rafe was precisely the person they said. Perhaps you’d be another girl on the notch of his belt. Then you think of the note and the boneyard incident. You were broken in your thought when Dad nudged you, letting you know it was time to return the cart and go home.

————————————————————————

As your dad drove you home, you laid your head against the window, listening to the music he let you put on, ‘Logical’ by Olivia Rodrigo, playing slowly as you watched the leaves creating patterns from sunlight casting through the windows and on the ground.

You could see slightly past a line of trees, all the people at the beach, the sun shining down. All of them are smiling, and all you can do is trace your finger along the window's glass back and forth, trying to keep yourself from thinking nothing stopped the tidal waves of things hitting you from all sides.

You thought about everything with Rafe and how everything around him felt genuine and solid. You could tell Rafe was dangerous when you met him but not aggressive, and these thoughts scare you. There are so many complex parts of him, but to see him letting out his rage on someone who you know didn’t deserve it any sense not like that.

Then you think about your night together, how he touched and held you all night. He was so gentle; this wasn’t your Rafe, not the one you know at least, and you don’t understand why things with you are different.

As the chorus plays, you sing along, head resting now on the window, looking forward just staring off, ‘If rain don’t pour, and sun don’t shine, then changing you is possible. No, love is never logical.’

Your dad's eyes had been flicking from the road to you when he finally spoke up, watching you wince, making him break. “Honey, you know you can talk to Dad, right? Does this have to do with that Rafe boy?” you wince again. He gives you a sad look, pulling to a parking lot that looks out at the beach, leaving the car on but turning to grab your hands, making you look at him.

The second you make contact with your dad's soft brown eyes, your entire heart drops, and you sob, falling into your dad's arms. “I’m so stupid, Dad. I don’t know why I keep making these choices.” He holds you in his arms, running his hand down the back of your head.

“Honey, does this have anything to do with me seeing Rafe and Topper pretty disheveled leaving the sandbar walkway?” you shake your head, looking up at him. “It’s so much more. I am so confused.” he puts his hand on your cheek, brushing tears away. “My sweet, beautiful girl, if he knows how much you are worth like I do, which I think he does, he’ll show you it.” you shake your head. “That’s just it, Dad; he does; he’s perfect with me; it's not exactly that, but there is a whole other side he hides from me. I don’t know,” you finish looking down, shaking your head.

Your dad chuckles, which makes your head whip up “(F/N); sometimes people are afraid if you see a certain part of them, it will make you run; maybe he just doesn’t want what the people of this island say about him to shape who he truly is; he’s just a boy who’s learning let him come to you sweetheart he will I’m sure and whatever he’s done, be calm, don’t lie, tell him what you know and ask him; let him explain see his reason sometimes you don’t always fully know what’s happening within someone or around them” your dad wipes the rest of your tears and turning back to drive you home.

———————————————————————-

When you get home, you lay in bed with Rafe's note lying next to you on your bed right next to the ring Luca had given you; stare at both and think, what would Luca say and think? Would he hate you for your choices? You think about Jason, who’s always given you the best advice, feeling he’s so far; now this isn’t something you can get help with over the phone; you think about Pope and if he’s okay, hoping he is.

You think of Rafe.

————————————————————————

Across the island, in his room, he is getting ready to meet you at Marina and take you out. Finally, he wants to sit down and talk and know more about you; he puts on one of his nice button-downs and jeans and grabs his phone while running a hand through his hair, setting his phone on the counter as he clicks the call button.

My Angel ❤️

As the phone rings, Rafe brushes his teeth; it keeps ringing as he washes his mouth out until, finally, the call goes to voice mail. Rafe sets down his toothbrush and shoots you a text

Rafe🪸: Hey Angel girl, I’m about ready; when do you want to meet?

Rafe waited for nearly an hour before he got a response back from you that had him stirring with anxiety

My Angel ❤️: Not feeling well. Raincheck?

You’d never sent him such a short response; this immediately had him Facetiming you; this time, you answered, and you were in your bed; he smiled when he saw your face.

That all changed when he saw; it looked like you’d been crying, making him say, “Hey, sweet girl, what’s happening? Are you okay?” you stare at him, almost looking shocked that he asked, then you shake your head like you’re snapping yourself out something making Rafe frown and tilt his head. After you just stared at him, he quietly said, “Baby girl.”

This made you snap out of the wait, and finally, you said, “I’ve just been getting sick today. My stomach is killing me, and I think I should stay home.” Rafe looks at you worried, and you shake your head, starting to say, “I’ll be fin—“

Before you can finish, he says, “I’ll be there in 20 minutes; hang tight.” you were trying to say, “Rafe, no, wait—, “ but he was already off the phone, and you went to text him that he didn’t need to come that you just needed to rest and sleep only to see a message.

Rafe 🪸: Don’t even try to say no, Angel. I said I’d be there, so I will see you in 20 minutes, stopping by the store. See you soon

📍location shared

You stared at your phone for so long, knowing what you saw happen to Pope was uncalled for and unnecessary, but the feeling you have for him is something you can’t help; he already fills many voids you think have been gaping in you for so long.

You are lying on your bed holding the note from this morning to your chest, phone in the other hand, staring at the bit of the horizon; you can see bits of orange cast glow over the houses and grass. You don’t even notice until after you've sent it.

My Angel❤️: Okay, thanks, Reef; see you soon 🪸❤️

You hope you’re not setting yourself up for something you know will end in tragedy. Then you think of what Dad told you, ask him, be calm, let him explain. As you lay in your bed, that’s what you'll wait to do.

All rights belong to the owners of Netflix and the Outer Banks. I do not own any characters except OC characters. The fiction is simply for fun. All copyrights belong to the original owners.

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theewokingdead · 2 years ago

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Chapter One - Timing is Everything (Benny x f!Reader)

Pairing: Benny Miller x f!Reader Summary: Living in Colorado, Benny struggles to deal with what happened in Colombia. A chance encounter starts to change his life - and yours. Word Count: 2.5k+ Rating: Explicit 18+ (for eventual smut in future chapters) Content: Language, PTSD, broody Benny. A/N: This series has been floating in my head since December. I can't listen to Garrett Hedlund's music without thinking about it. As always, thanks to @icanbeyourjedi and @musings-of-a-rose for offering some suggestions and encouraging me to write this. Please follow and turn on notifications for @theewokingdeadwrites to know when I update.

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Benny never used to hate the rain.

As a child, he loved donning his green rubber boots and matching raincoat to jump in the puddles. He loved wrestling in the mud with his brother, Will; the constant losses he endured in his younger years fueled his growth into a young man who could complete against someone older and bigger. He loved fishing with his dad in the drizzle, the drops knocking gnats and other various bugs into the water, giving the fish a good meal and making them easier to catch. Most of all, he loved when it signaled that spring, and soon after summer, was on its way.

As an adult, Benny continued to find comfort and joy in the rain, even while crawling in the mud and running laps or completing missions in the pouring rain. The storms that frightened others made him feel energized – alive. He always longed for home, and the rain kept him close to it, the smell in the air always the same no matter where he was.

Benny loved the rain. Loved. The mission in Colombia changed everything.

Despite his intentions of making a fresh start in Colorado, as the cold rain beats against him, memories of Colombia flood his mind. It’s all so clear. The drops drenching his body as they stalked Lorea’s compound, his gloved hands gripping the gun he prayed he wouldn’t have to use. The way his wet clothes clung to him when he walked in the room to see Will injured on the floor, fearing the worst for just a moment before swallowing all emotion to focus on getting his brother – brothers - to safety. The chill in his bone as he shivered under the rock on the mountain, trying to focus on listening to the droplets as they hit the leaves, but only hearing the terrified cries of the innocent children on the cocaine farm, the sorrowful screams of their elders.

“You’re a good man, Benny,” Will had said to him. Yet hours later, he was quick to blame him for Tom's death, the fire he demanded they light to keep warm leading the vengeful villagers right to them. Santi denied that it was anyone’s fault, but Benny knows, deep down, that he is the reason for the folded flag on the living room shelf of the Davis’ home.

The smell of freshly roasted espresso permeates his nostrils, bringing him back to the present. Desperate to find refuge from the downpour, his feet carried him into a little coffee shop. Rain drips from the bill of his hat and his body trembles with cold. He sweeps the hat off his head and lightly shakes the water off, giving the room a quick glimpse of his golden hair.

Benny looks around, seeing the shop is small and warm. Large, plush couches fill the front, the small tables between them covered with books and board games. Wood and metal barstools line the length of the counter, where a single barista is smiling at him.

“Hello!” the barista greets, her liveliness a stark contrast to the dreary day outside. “What can I get started for you?”

Benny isn’t sure what to order. He’s not much of a coffee drinker and isn’t in the mood to venture trying one of those fancy coffees everyone seems to rave about.

“I’ll, uh…” He glances up at the menu for a moment before looking back at the barista, her smile friendly, warm, and patient. “I’ll have a small dark roast, please.”

“Cream or sugar?”

“Neither, thanks,” Benny replies. In his mind, there’s a joke about how he likes his coffee like his soul: dark and bitter. But she’s probably heard it a million times, and, truth be told, he’s not really in a joking mood.

“Anything else? We have all sorts of baked goods. Croissants, bagels, cake pops…”

“Uhh…” He briefly examines the glass case, not wanting to disappoint the barista by saying no. “How about a cookie? Chocolate chip?”

“Not much of a risk taker, are you?” she playfully jests, reaching into the case to pull out a large, gooey cookie. She places it in a small paper bag then slides it across the counter toward him, adding with a wink, “Good choice.”

After paying for his order, Benny turns to find a spot to sit, choosing one of the small tables lining the far wall of the shop. Taking a sip of his coffee, he catches a glance at his surroundings. The rain seems to have kept customers at bay, the shop surprisingly empty for the time of day. There are only a few people here, working away on laptops or reading from textbooks and notebooks scattered in front of them, clearly students from the university down the street.

Benny envies them - they have their whole lives ahead of them, not yet spoiled by the brutalities of the world. He was their age when life brutally taught him just how fragile it can be – too fucking young to know it. Too young to be tricked into fighting someone else’s war, to watch the soldiers – his friends – get blown to bits.

He evaded far too many close calls, and every single time he was asked the same question: How’d you get so lucky?

Lucky. The word always made Benny internally scoff. Is it really lucky to be in the right place at the wrong time? Is it lucky to be the one left behind to wonder why it was them and not him?

Guess it wasn’t my time, he’d always reply with a shrug and a grin, always using his boyish charm and sense of humor to mask the pain within, not letting anyone see that he was constantly wondering Why?

Cradling his coffee with both hands, Benny watches the steam rise out of the cup and into the air, lost in thought. He thinks of his eighteenth birthday, of the phone call with Will when he told him his plan to enlist. Stay where you belong, Will had said, all but begging him not to follow him into the military. But Benny’s mind was made up and he was too bullheaded to listen. I go where you go, Will.

He can’t help but wonder where he’d be in life had he listened to his brother just the one damn time. Things wouldn’t necessarily be better, just different. Different than the hell he’s been living the last three and a half years, brought on by the mental war he fights inside himself nearly every damn day.

As it always does when he gets too deep in thought, Benny’s mind spirals, a series of what-its seeping in and taking over. Emotions flare from the dormant images that flash in his brain. Benny feels himself slipping into the abyss, spiraling back in time toa nother place, and he knows he has to ground himself.

Rising to his feet, he moves to the counter. “Excuse me, ma’am… Do you have a pen I can borrow?”

“Oh, yeah. Sure,” the barista replies with a smile, finding a pen near the register and holding it out for him to take. “Here you go.”

“Thanks.”

In the months since he returned to Colorado, the past has increasingly creeped into his mind, his thoughts harder to contain than ever before. He never knows what the catalyst will be – the blood oozing from an injured animal, a gunshot ringing in the distance, the backfire of his father’s old farm truck, the rumble of thunder, even the smell of fresh paint. He feels like a fucking child again, always afraid – except now it’s not the boogeyman lurking around the corner, but his past.

Though work around the farm keeps him physically exhausted, it doesn’t help him move through his feelings the way fighting used to. Fighting required him to be completely present and focused, forcing him to learn how to quiet the negative and judgmental voices in his head. It allowed him to forget his problems – at least temporarily. Benny had to find a new outlet, and it quickly became writing.

He keeps a journal tucked under his mattress, his old hiding spot for Playboys that Will used to sneak him now a safe space for all his deepest, darkest thoughts. His English teachers always commended him in school for his writing, but it was never something he cared to pursue, staying away from what others boys deemed “sissy shit.” But now it’s the only thing that helps him make sense of his emotions and ease his pain; the only thing that helps him communicate what he’s feeling – even if it’s only the four walls of his bedroom that hears the lyrics he wrote as he strums on his old guitar.

Benny doesn’t know how long he sits there, pouring his soul onto white coffee shop napkins. He purges the words from his brain, bold black ink furiously spewing the thoughts that poison him. The more the pen moves, the freer he feels. He doesn’t stop, writing until his fingers are numb, his hand cramping.

After filling two napkins with his thoughts and ideas, Benny stops to peruse what he wrote, circling and making notes near keywords before moving onto a third napkin to create some sort of order out of the chaos. He jots down lyrics, crossing out wrong words and replacing them with ones that seem to fit better. It pours out easily at first, a couple verses about luck and fate and how they’re bullshit – put in less harsh words.

But he loses steam as quickly as it had come, finding it hard to get the words to rhyme or flow properly, not even able to find the right words. Just about everything feels off; it just doesn’t work. He’s not even sure what direction, if any, the song is headed in. Maybe that’s the problem: it lacks direction.

Sighing in frustration, Benny sets the pen down and checks the watch on his wrist.

“Shit,” he utters, realizing he stayed too long at the coffee shop. Now he’ll need to hurry to his appointment at the Driver’s License Office – something he’s already put off for far too long. Something about updating his license makes it all feel final, like there’s no going back to Tampa or his life as an MMA fighter. It should make him excited to close that chapter, but he has no idea what the next chapter holds. For the first time in his life, that scares him.

After scrambling to gather his things, he sets the borrowed pen down on the counter and hastily thanks the barista once more while quickly walking the remaining distance to the door. Using his shoulder to nudge the door open, he stops to peer out at the rain, drops beating heavily on the awning above him. Before taking another step, he hears a voice, which causes him to pause.

“Wait! Wait!”

Benny’s head snaps in the direction of the noise, his eyes locking on a figure running through the sheets of rain in his direction. He’s confused, watching as the figure emerges from the gloom and stops after reaching the safety of the awning. He sees that you have one arm tucked into the front of your coat, the other stretching the material to keep whatever you appear to be smuggling safe.

“Thank you!” you say breathlessly, knowing you would have struggled to open the door if he hadn’t come out at the right time. “Thank you so much, uh-”

“Benny,” he replies, a hint of confusion in his voice as he stares at you, water dripping from your clothes and nose.

“Benny,” you repeat, flipping a piece of wet hair out of your face, revealing a pair of the most beautiful eyes, a mix of colors that make him want to look closer. The face surrounding those remarkable eyes is just as stunning.

Letting your coat out of your clutch, you remove your arm, revealing a stack of papers in your hand.

“Would you like one?” you question, offering him a flyer. “Hot off the press, and, somehow, perfectly dry.”

“Thanks,” Benny says, accepting the paper with his free hand, looking down at it with confusion. “I’ll, uh… I’ll do my best to keep it that way.”

“Be ready for a very thorough inspection the next time I see you,” you tease in a serious tone.

“Yes, ma’am,” Benny replies, which forces your mouth to twist into a smile, small but pretty enough to bring a man to his knees. Benny would do anything to never see it leave your face. “I hope I don’t disappoint.”

You softly stare up at his bright blue eyes, eyes that draw you in and seem to hold you captive. A flush creeps up on to your cheeks, ashamed of the scenarios your dirty mind instantly conjured up. Just the sound of those two simple words sends blood pumping to your core. Are you really so sex deprived that you’re thinking about a stranger attending to your needs? You curl your lips inward and gently bite down while dropping your eyes to the ground, hoping he doesn’t notice how flustered you’ve become.

“Well… Thanks again, Benny. Hope to see you again soon.”

Benny’s gaze follows you as you cross the threshold into the shop, watching as you walk up to the counter and drop the papers. Then, he turns and looks out into the rain, trying to processes what just happened, missing the glance you give over your shoulder. A soft smile on his face, he runs into rain. Somehow, the drops feel warmer than they did earlier that day.

As he walks into the driver's license building, he mindlessly hums the melody of a song that he’s not yet written.

After dropping the stack of freshly printed flyers on the counter, you disappear into the back of the shop to change into fresh clothes that you keep tucked away – you lost count of how many spills and other various mishaps happened before you learned your lesson to keep spares on hand.

Once you reemerge, you immediately get to work, using the lull in customers to tidy up the space. Bending down to pick up a discarded napkin on the floor near the tables lining the far wall, you see that it’s just than just garbage. It’s filled with handwritten notes, the handwriting beautiful, neat, and unique, almost like a font. The first letter of each word and every ‘A’ is capitalized. The words themselves are just as beautiful, the lines seeming to read like a poem – or maybe a song? A few words are crossed out and replaced with another, arrows drawn to indicate that parts should be moved, but you comprehend what’s intended.

I’ve had close calls

When it could’ve been me

I was young when I learned just how fragile life can be

I lost friends of mine

I guess it wasn’t my time

When you look up, wondering who could’ve written something so beautiful, tears swim in your eyes. Even though you don't know the author, it feels like you’ve peeked directly into their soul, and for some unknown reason, you feel compelled to share your own in return.

#benny miller #benjamin miller #benjamin benny miller #benny miller x you #benny miller x reader #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier fan fiction #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier fic #garrett hedlund #garrett hedlund x you #garrett hedlund x reader #garrett hedlund characters #garrett hedlund fanfiction #timing is everything series #catie writes

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wouldntyou-liketoknow · 1 year ago

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Day 8: Sensory Deprivation

(Disclaimer: neither of the characters in this story belong to me. Both Phantom and Bones are the property of Nathan Sharp/Give Heart Productions.)

(Trigger Warnings: implications of illegal business, implied chronic pain, mentions of death/dying, descriptions of water/floating, skin-flaying, exposed bones, blood, similarities to an out-of-body experience, strong language. Please let me know if I missed anything.)

Day 1 Day 2 Day 3 Day 4 Day 5 Day 6 Day 7 Day 9 Day 10 Day 11 Day 12 Day 13

Out of habit, Bones cracked his knuckles as he wandered down the hall.

He had no idea why he’d developed aforementioned habit; it wasn’t exactly uncommon for his joints to crack with enough volume that you’d expect them to start glowing in the dark. Then again, he’d had more than enough time to learn how to tune out those noises. Even when he found himself in areas that managed to be eerily quiet.

Like this one, for instance.

A decent amount of time had passed since coworkers and customers alike had vacated the club. All the lights had been turned off. Now, had Bones still been fully alive, that would’ve caused problems (mainly him getting an excuse to fuck up someone else’s night due to tripping over the decor a few too many times). However, Bones was not fully alive. Death was strange—yes, it took a lot of things away, but for whatever reason, it also ended up having a few things to give.

Not like that made it any better, mind you.

Having supernaturally heightened senses didn’t make up for having fragmented memories, for having to operate under a nasty mixture of exhaustion and restlessness, for having to know that you’re part of the proof that something is fundamentally wrong with the world—

“Boooones,” a familiar voice called from elsewhere in the building. “While I always appreciate lurking for dramatic effect, I don’t have all night.”

“. . .Yeah, because you’ve never taken your sweet damn time on things,” Bones snapped back, knowing that his terse tone wouldn’t hide how he’d flinched.

“Touch’e, but that’s only when I know I can get away with it,” Phantom replied, sounding much closer than he actually was. “C’mon, you’re gonna want to see this.”

Bones rolled his eyes, but still turned on his heel and started traipsing in the direction of the sound. “Sure I am.”

Despite there still being a few good employers out there, any relationship between worker and boss would always be just a tad strange. Especially if the boss in question was an outer monstrosity in disguise.

While Bones didn’t exactly fear Phantom—as a revenant, Bones was typically one to be feared—he still knew better than to just let his guard down around him. He wasn’t about to try calling himself a saint, but seeing some of the things Phantom had done to “take care of business” made him a bit relieved that he couldn’t sleep anymore. Other times, Phantom’s eccentricities just got on his nerves.

Bones knew things could’ve been much, much worse. Yeah, it was a complete and total bitch to have hollow pain thriving inside him like a colony of parasites, but part of him still understood that he was making the best of his circumstances.

Eventually, Bones found himself behind the bar counter, facing the huge cabinet that had been built into the entire fourth wall of this room. He paused, having to dig through the duffel bag of stuff he’d been instructed to bring tonight. It only took a few muttered profanities to convince said bag to let him fish out a silver key: its bow was adorned by a picture of a flower with an eyeball in the center of its petals.

Bones ran his fingers along the bottom of the center shelf, quickly finding a well-hidden hole that the key’s biting cuts fit perfectly into. A loud CLACK rang through the empty room as he turned the key to one side, prompting the cabinet to perform an amateur recreation of The Red Sea. The organized collection of bottles rattled on their shelves, but not a single one went shattering to the floor.

Bones hovered in the familiar, freshly-revealed hollow doorway. It wasn’t imposing to him; he’d done this at least a hundred times by now. This hidden staircase was just so fucking steep. He knew for an absolute certainty that it would be impossible to run up or down it without tripping on one step and bashing your head against another.

Dull pain flared around his ankles and raced up to his kneecaps. Bones ground his jaw, putting a deathgrip on the railway as he began descending. The halves of the cabinet reconnected behind him, but that didn’t leave him in total darkness. Colorful light flickered at the bottom of the stairs, casting shadows that danced similarly to those of a fire. They seemed to be trying to reach up along the steps. . .

Though he didn’t stop walking, Bones felt his hackles raise. They didn’t lower when he realized that soft music was slithering into the air.

The club’s basement was in a state of functional chaos. Chests and crates that came in a plethora of sizes almost outlined the room, stacked on top of one another and pushed up against the walls. It always felt like there was a different amount each time Bones had to venture down here. (It also wasn’t one of Bones’ responsibilities to keep track of them all. He’d already learned the hard way that you couldn’t just open them.)

He immediately discovered Phantom in the center of the room, his trademark claw-handled cane softly thudding against the floor as he paced around. . .something.

The unfamiliar object seemed to be eight feet long and four feet wide. It was coated in a silver finish, shaped similarly to a snake’s egg. The top half of it hung in the air, supported by simple hinges on either side. It glowed from the inside with that same color-shifting light. It was the source of the music, too. Bones’ instincts told him that those gentle notes were being produced by whatever was in there. Like a monster’s voice echoing from the bottom of a well.

“What the hell is that supposed to be?” Bones called, feeling his brow furrow as he loomed by the foot of the stairs.

Phantom came to a halt on one side of the glowing object, turning his head to offer a cryptic smile. “I sent a message about having something in store for you earlier this week, didn’t I?”

“The novel-text you sent me was just rambling about how I needed to keep your clients in line because you’d be busy rearranging the reality in this part of the building,” Bones replied pointedly.

Phantom clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes. “This is a sensory deprivation tank. Don’t tell me you haven’t heard about them by now.”

“I have,” Bones argued, “but unless you’ve cooked up some weird plan to turn this place into a spa, I’m not sure why we suddenly need one.”

Phantom beckoned Bones to come closer. “I mean, what we calculated as your deathday is coming up.” His grin slightly widened to showcase how his teeth were slowly but surely becoming sharper. “And I’d be a real jackass if I didn’t get you a present, right?”

Bones scoffed as he wandered over, hoping his aggravation would mask his reluctance. He made sure to keep some distance from Phantom, standing by the opposite side of the tank. “Not like that would stop you from being a jackass every other day.”

“Meh, fair point,” Phantom confessed. “But don’t worry, I won’t say I told you so after you see how great this thing is.” He reached up to pat the tank’s lid as though it was the hood of some snazzy car. This helped Bones finally realize that the tank’s exterior wasn’t smooth. Rather, it was covered in symbols that looked like animalistic mouths and eyes. He couldn’t tell whether they’d been carved into or sculpted onto the original material.

Before he could stop himself, Bones peered at the tank’s interior.

His stomach immediately sank.

The color wasn’t beaming from a light further inside. No, the tank’s liquid itself glimmered. If you didn’t know any better, you might’ve assumed that a bunch of bathbombs had just dissolved in there (and that the combination of all their colors miraculously wasn’t reduced to some ugly shade of brown).

The liquid also looked fresh, clean. And while that wouldn’t be something to complain about. . .it meant that Bones could see the bottom of the tank. The longer he stared, the more the tank just seemed to keep going down, down, down into a gaping black pit. Even with how far away it appeared, it still looked so much larger than the tank itself.

“Pretty sure these things are only supposed to hold ten inches of water,” he muttered, unable to take his eyes away from the hole.

“First of all, the stuff in there isn’t water,” Phantom casually mentioned. “Second of all, that capacity is only the standard for the tanks that humans use.”

Bones’ neck gave a sickening cRiIiCk as he turned his head to stare at Phantom. “. . .If that stuff isn’t water, then what the fuck is it?”

Phantom shrugged. “Not important.”

“I’m inCLINED TO DISAGREE.”

“There’s no hydrochloric acid in the elixir,” Phantom tried. At the way Bones snarled, he continued, “And even if there was, you know it wouldn’t kill you.”

“That doesn’t mean it couldn’t hurt me in a way that might make my limbo even worse!”

“I never said anything about hurting.” Phantom sighed. “Look, as much as I’d love to infodump, I literally can’t tell you how I managed to whip it up. It’s just one of those types of knowledge that only certain species can process.”

“Oh, so you think calling me an idiot in a roundabout way is just gonna reassure me?!”

“Hey.” Phantom growled, a newly-forked tongue flicking out of his mouth. His voice seemed to grow, as the air now shook when he spoke. “It’s not my fault that so much shit doesn’t make sense. I didn’t write the rules for these kinds of things. I could’ve used the past few days and nights to get plenty of other shit done, but instead, I focused on building this because I wanted to try and help you out.” He took a single step forward, thin columns of smoke beginning to drift out of his eyes. “So don’t put any fucking words in my mouth, alright?”

Bones’ mouth opened and closed with nothing coming out. While the eye-vapor didn’t actually float near him, the smell still had quite a bite to it. Not to mention how it made his throat feel like sandpaper. He subconsciously straightened his back, though he was still stubborn enough to keep grimacing. He dipped his head for just a second or two to get the point across: Fine, I get it, you can stop emitting surreal dread now.

Phantom responded with a short, low hum. The smoke stopped pouring as he blinked. “Anyway,” he pronounced. “There’s a reason sensory deprivation therapy is such a hot topic. Several reasons, in fact: at first, it was thought to just help with psychological problems. Now, it’s been proven to have plenty of physical benefits, too.”

“Thanks for the reminder that I have a lot of problems in general,” Bones snorted. “But like you just said: that stuff applies to tanks made for humans. So what does that mean for this tank?”

“It means,” Phantom replied, exasperation seeping into his mischievous calm, “that this tank will work even better than the ones made for humans. Because I’ve designed it to give its user an experience that human bodies can’t handle.”

“It’s kinda impossible to list all the things humans can’t handle.” Bones glanced back down into the tank. The dark cavity at the bottom seemed to be stirring the liquid all around it. The odd, subtle movement almost resembled breathing.

And yet. . .a voice in his rotten mind started begging him to touch the elixir, to dive into the tank headfirst. Another voice popped up, snidely quoting, This is my hole! It was made for me! (It made more sense than the vibes the tank was giving off, since manga was one of the few things that actually didn’t frustrate Bones these days.)

“What makes this experience so special?” Bones inquired before any vague euphemisms could barge their way into the strange compulsion.

“That’s something you’ll have to find out yourself,” Phantom answered. “I’ve already given it a test run, but I’m pretty sure it can’t have the exact same effect on whoever else uses it.”

“Wow. That’s not concerning at all. This sounds so damn promising,” Bones deadpanned.

“Oh, c’mon! It’s functioning safely!” Phantom contended, slightly throwing up his arms. “Think, Bones: you’re my right-hand. Why would I want to hurt one of the most capable people on my payroll?”

“Why are you obsessed with harvesting the souls of your contractors?” Bones retorted. “You pretty much never have a reason to do something, but that doesn’t exactly stop you.”

“You’re just complimenting my work ethic, y’know,” Phantom smirked.

Bones huffed an agitated sigh, feeling the bags under his eyes actively grow wider and darker. A splintery sensation stabbed into his brain (a tiny part of his skull had probably tried to cave in).

Phantom tilted his head, taking a few steps closer. “Look, this isn’t getting us anywhere. Don’t you remember the voodoo dolls we started selling last year?”

“How could I forget?” Bones murmured, holding back a shudder at the images of Phantom’s body contorting in time with that first test doll.

“Well, those have proven to be pretty good painkillers for you, right?”

“. . .Right,” Bones relented.

Phantom nodded. “That’s what this tank is meant to be. Another type of painkiller for you.” By now, his demeanor had returned to its usual levels of smug and shit-eating. But Bones was quick to spot something else in Phantom’s eyes. He didn’t know what it was, but it didn’t seem malevolent. “I’ve adjusted the tank’s settings; your session will only be fifteen minutes long. Plenty of time for you to see how you like it without feeling trapped. Just try it out, okay?”

Bones felt his lip start to bleed before he’d even began chewing it. He paced around the tank, inspecting every part of it that was in eyeshot. There was no lock on the top half, no hidden compartments anywhere. The only parts of it that didn’t look normal were its depth and that chasm. . .

Then again, Phantom was a chaos deity. Bones was the living dead. Normal wasn’t really an option for anything that involved either of them.

“Fine,” Bones eventually proclaimed. “But if this does end up doing something I don’t like—”

“There’s only so much you can do to me, and even that won’t stick,” Phantom interjected, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

As he spun his cane in his hands, his skin started burning from the inside. . .Well, it quickly ended up burning on the outside, too, since flames erupted from his eyes and mouth. The fire enveloped Phantom, then spent the next few seconds coiling around in the air. At least twenty eyes stared at Bones. Bones stared right back, folding his arms across his chest. Leave it to Phantom to go apeshit with dramatic exits.

The monstrous display surged up through the ceiling, leaving an assortment of blisters to spread along the paint. Even after it completely vanished, that still didn’t stop Phantom from calling, “I’ll be in my office if you need me.”

And with that, Bones was suddenly alone in the club’s basement. His ears rang as he paced a few more laps around the tank, still searching for any threats. Or, his ears tried to ring, at least. That soft music crawled through the tank’s liquid and up into the air. He still had no idea what could be producing it, but he couldn’t deny how...grounding it felt.

Having cameras down here would’ve just been a complete idiot-move on Phantom’s part. Still, Bones retreated to the darkest corner of the basement, dragging his duffel bag along. A couple minutes passed before he trudged back over, letting the tank’s glow stretch over him and the bleach-dye trunks he was now wearing.

Bones stood before the tank, pursing his lips, giving it one more tense stare. When the tank failed to reveal itself to be a mimic or spontaneously combust, he carefully lowered himself to sit on the lower rim. He instinctively grit his teeth, bracing himself as his feet dropped into the elixir with a soft splash.

He didn’t touch the bottom of the tank, obviously. The elixir seemed to softly churn around his legs. It felt. . .just like water. It wasn’t cold, but it wasn’t hot, either. Bones gave a few experimental kicks. Ripples were sent shivering throughout the tank, but that was pretty much it. It didn’t start boiling. No swarms of piranhas manifested.

After a few more seconds, Bones finally barked a resounding, “Fuck it.” He reached up to grab hold of the tank’s top half, pulling it closed over him as he pushed himself off the rim.

Due to no longer needing air in his lungs, Bones didn’t automatically float like a human would. Despite all the things he’d forgotten about his former life, the basic necessity of swimming clung to his mind like a stubborn leech. He stared down at the chasm so far beneath him. The chasm stared right back, not really contributing unless you counted whatever creature could potentially be lurking in its darkness.

The music got a bit louder, now that it was more contained, but it somehow didn’t bounce along the tank’s ceiling.

Curiosity wormed its way into Bones’ paranoia. He swam a few laps around the tank’s perimeter, still testing, still waiting. The thought of circling like a shark made him feel a bit more secure, a bit more in control.

Even so, he eventually got bored of it.

If he wanted to see what this tank could actually do for him, then he’d have to stay relatively still.

So, Bones paddled into the center of the elixir.

He maneuvered himself onto his back, letting his arms unfurl and reach toward nothing.

He let his head roll back. And as he felt the elixir filter into his hair and creep around the corners of his face. . .he realized how the music felt solid. Tangible.

As though it and the elixir’s ever-changing color were part of a living mass.

Bones swallowed a lump in his throat. He’d sink if he stayed like this, but he wouldn’t drown. He could always just swim back up to the surface.

His dry, sore eyes drifted shut as the elixir washed over his skin. He just barely felt the cool air disappear.

But his vision didn’t turn black. He could still see the colors of the elixir.

As a matter of fact, he saw a blurry shape somewhere in the tank.

Bones immediately wanted to panic, to start thrashing his way up to the surface. He wanted to, but he didn’t. He couldn’t. All he could do was listen to the music and watch the shape as it got closer and clearer. . .

Bones’ mind didn’t turn blank when he realized that the shape was himself, that he was somehow looking down on his own body as it kept capsizing. At first, his anger and fear threatened to make his head explode (mainly to spite Phantom, since having to clean bits of brain and skull out of the tank would not be very fun). It felt like at least an hour had passed before confusion finally attempted to take center-stage. Though he saw his eyes refuse to open, he also saw himself grind his jaw, saw himself carefully wave his arms.

Bones was still in control. He was just. . .having to watch.

He expected his spine to take the drifting as an excuse to contort. He expected his lungs to shake with a chorus of awful snaps and pops. He expected his abdomen to start bloating like that of an actual drowning victim.

Nothing like that happened.

The music wasn’t letting any of those things happen.

The music didn’t give him a chance to start questioning what this meant.

The

Music

Was

The

Only

Thing

Could

Feel

There was no pain or panic as the music actively crept into Bones’ head. It was lapping at his skull, oozing down his spine, spreading along his ribcage.

The numbness was, miraculously enough, a good kind of numbness.

Bones wanted to swim, to move along in time with the music’s notes. But the music told him that he needed to stay still right now, that things would be easier if he did. So, he obeyed.

The elixir must have wanted to obey the music, too. Because, right as Bones’ body got within five feet of the chasm. . .he stopped sinking.

The thought of opening his eyes barely even occurred to him. He could still see himself. And even if he couldn’t, he was still listening to the music. As long as the music kept playing, nothing bad would happen. He was sure of that.

The elixir began to churn, but Bones remained perfectly still.

Thin lacerations began opening up on his skin. They started at his fingers, then proceeded to grow longer and longer. They stretched over his hands, up his arms, around his neck, over his face and chest. (This wasn’t really anything new, but for the very first time, there was no stinging sensation for Bones to wince or hiss at.)

The spreading cuts grew deeper and deeper, prompting Bones’ blood to begin seeping out and leaving misty trails in the elixir. It almost looked black against all the colors. It didn’t drift up to the surface. Instead, the blood glided around Bones like a school of tiny fish.

Once the gashes managed to carve themselves over every square-inch of his body, now resembling a network of tree roots, Bones’ skin began to twitch. Almost like a hangnail, a corner of skin lifted away from the tip of Bones’ index finger. That particular strand became longer and wider as it continued peeling itself off in a spiral. This set off a chain reaction: more and more sections of flesh shivered as they detached. Blood was now spilling out in clouds that nearly hid the entire scene.

But Bones could still see everything.

Threads of skin started slithering off of his face. Even as his eyes were forced open due to their lids peeling away, his perspective didn’t change.

The music was still keeping him company, so he didn’t start thrashing or screaming.

It took a little over five minutes for his skeleton and organs to be rendered bare. His blood continued circling around him in a lazy whirlpool, but his skin apparently had other ideas. One by one, the fleshy strands moved downward, wavering like eels as they vanished into the darkness of the chasm.

Bones almost felt like he was asleep.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually slept.

Had his heart just twitched? Were his intestines shuffling?

He couldn’t be sure, because as he kept staring, the gore slowly grew blurrier, fading in and out of eyeshot. . .

Far too quickly, the music came to a halt. The new silence only lasted for a second or two. Then, a low, buzzing alarm droned into Bones’ ears.

A loud gasp tore its way from Bones’ throat as he sat up, kicking his legs and thrashing his arms. He blinked, watching as the tank’s lid drifted open above him with a soft, electronic hummmm.

Air collided against his skin, feeling cool considering how he was soaked in the elixir.

Bones froze, immediately reaching up to touch his face and neck, craning his neck to look at his torso. All of his skin had returned to its rightful place. One top of that. . .he couldn’t see any bruises or scabs or leaking cuts.

The pleasant numbness was gone. He scowled; a headache was just starting to blossom beneath the bridge of his nose.

But it wasn’t on-par with a migraine.

In fact, it was nearly overshadowed by how. . .clean Bones was now realizing he felt.

He didn’t feel healthy (he was dead, after all), but the feeling of a hot shower and a deep-tissue massage combined. . .it was enveloping him.

Inside and out.

Bones’ expression shifted so quickly he almost got whiplash.

He stayed floating for another moment.

Then, he clambered onto the tank’s rim, heading for the basement stairs, not caring one bit how he was dripping and leaving wet footprints everywhere.

He needed Phantom to show him how to adjust the tank’s settings.

He needed to spend some more time in there. He needed to have another session—he needed to have at least one hour-long session per day. . .

@that-bat @sammys-magical-au @ineedallofthehugs @th3w00ds @captainrose35 @nwtbobsessedemo

#the thirteen days of goretober 2023 #goretober 2023 #my writing #my stories #bones nwtb #phantom nwtb #nathan sharp #natewantstobattle #tw blood #tw exposed bones #tw body horror #tw implied chronic pain #tw implied illegal business #tw mentions of death/dying #tw water/floating #tw skin flaying #tw out of body experience #(kind of?)

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syoddeye · 8 months ago

Note

Hey, I hope I don't sound pushy but I reread business or pleasure and I can't wait for the morning after or whatever comes next. ❣️

hi, not pushy, i'm glad you dig bop! it's in my queue. i keep falling prey to my own impulses and writing everything else but my 'big' WIPs. that's on me. here's an unedited lil snack from what i've written for it so far.

It shouldn't surprise you that a man like John Price is seemingly prepared for the possibility of someone sleeping over, but seeing a spare toothbrush, towel, and an oversized robe left out in the en-suite is a delight. Simple slippers are tucked under the floating counter, almost making you forget you're not at a spa but at your employer-turned-hookup's penthouse. Your mind is more critical of your decisions in the light of day, but you'll save self-reflection for your own bathroom. Beneath the warmth of the double-headed shower, you try to avoid thinking about the origins of the hair products on the built-in shelf. After all, you agreed to keep things 'friendly.' It's not your business.

Behind the mirror, you find motrin and dry swallow a tablet for the gratifying ache in your lower half. Towelling your hair off, you briefly consider tracking down your handbag for makeup, but if he's seen you in the buff, you figure he can see a naked face, mild acne scars, and all. You slip on the soft cotton robe and decide to locate your host.

#sy asks #business or pleasure

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its-my-whump · 1 year ago

Text

Phone call

TW: emotional whump, emotional loss, assault

She was gorgeous. Her open smile, her laugh, her silky hair, her green eyes, her soft lips. She was funny, honest, intelligent. His life was better, when she was around.

They had kissed. It was their first real date, after dancing around each other for weeks and they had actually kissed.

He felt like a teenager again, butterflies and all. It was a real date, old school. He invited her to dinner, picked her, they shared a dessert, real sassy. He brought her home, walked her to the front door and cliché or not, they kissed for the first time.

He could embrace the world. He hadn't been this happy in ages. The tall man steered his truck towards home, happily smiling to himself. The streets were empty. Yes, it was a first date, but they weren't 15 anymore and there was no curfew at ten. So it was late.

The big wheels of his vehicle rolled over still warm asphalt from a sunny day in June and finally came to a stop in his driveway.

He was so happy, his feet practically hovered him inside. His house was dark. Maybe for the first time in so long, is wasn't a frightening darkness meant for hiding. It almost felt like the silence of the night was a place to linger and enjoy the warm summer night, because life was worth living.

He made his way inside, switched on the lights and reactived the alarm just after closing the front door. Tonight, this house wasn't disturbing him, the atmosphere wasn't able to eat him up as so often. Tonight he felt free.

He went for the fridge and got a beer. The positive wibe of his date let him still float on cloud numbre nine. The TV flickered on and he settle onto his comfy coach, shoes out and feet already up on the coffeetable. It was a rerun of last nights game. He already knew the scoure, but hadn't seen the game.

Nevertheless during the break after the first quarter he dozed off. At the end of the fourth quarter his phone shocked him awake. 'Who the hell would call at this hour and why hadn't he muted it?' Jumped through his head. A quick glance at the clock told him it was half past 2 am on a saturday night, or sunday morning for that matter.

Maybe she was already yarning for him. He definitely was for her. A slight smile hijacked his face.

But it wasn't his mobile on the coffeetable, that had violently charmed him out of his slumber, it was his landline. Still half asleep he made his way over.

The receiver had hardly reached his ear, when he barked into it. "Yeah?"

"Hello." The voice on the other side was speaking matter of factly, not waiting for a response. "Do you remembered the ice cream flavour, we talked about. It was recently delivered to your local 7/11. You should hurry or you'll miss it."

The line went dead. He had the receiver still in his left hand, standing by the counter dumbstruck. A few seconds passed without a movement and then his mind started racing, as his heart did. "Fuck!" Jumped out of his mouth. Panic flared up and his body jolted into action. The receiver went back on the cradle. He ran towards his bedroom, yanked open his closet and scattered clothers over the floor until he could reach a black travel bag on the upper shelf. It was already packed.

He crawled into said closet and pulled out a small safe hidden under junk and a handfull of shoes for every occasion. Hectically he punched in a six digit code. The electric beaping of every numbre and the safe unlockung finally predominated the pounding of his frantic heartbeat in his ears.

He grabbed for a Glock, a stage of bills and an ID. A magazine went into the gun. A pair of combat boots directly in front of him found their way onto his feet in lightning speed. The gun was holstered in the waistband and he put the money and ID into the pockets of his pants. An additional jacket was stuffed into his travelbag.

He shouldered the bag and got his mobile from the coffeetable. A last pityful look on its black display. He had finally been happy again. He had just fallen in love, but apparently this wasn't meant to be, as always. He would never see her gorgeous smile again. Never touch her soft skin again. Never kiss her again. 'Goddammit!' He opened the cover of the devise, pulled out the simcard and broke it in two. Everything ended up on the floor and he crushed it with his heavy boots. His expression had settled into an emotionless mask and he made for the backdoor, not bothering to switch off the TV.

After disarming the security system he approached his car from the dark backyard. The driverside door squeaked quietly and the buffers made a distinct sound, when he settle behind the steering wheel. The engine awoke.

'He had 2 years. 2 good years and he needed to fall in love just today. Or more, apparently they needed to find him exactly today, of all days. Witness protecting, my ass.' He thought. 'Somedays, he believed it would have been better, when they had just ended it then. So he hadn't had to live this life on the run. So he didn't need to be longing for a normal life, a family, children, a dog and a white picket fence.'

His fist hit the rim of the steering wheel. He took a deep breath to force his feelings down. 'Feelings only get you killed. Or they will get the one's you feel for killed.' His hand went for the shifter ball.

Suddenly cold steel touched the back of his neck. He froze, the hairs on his neck and arms suddenly standing formation, his hand still in midair, his heart apparently trying to jump out of his chest, while the air got caught inside his lungs.

"You missed me, Sonny?"

The handle went down on the side of his head with a dull sound and darkness took him.

My whumptember2023 masterlist

#Whumptember2023 #Whumptember 2023 day 10 #day 10: phone call #whump #writing #whump writing #they found me

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softeninglooks · 1 year ago

Text

i never dreamt of times like these | oihina

oihina are my favourite friendship in hq, so after seeing this lovely piece of fanart, i couldn’t stop myself from writing about them 🥹

When Shoyo slowly blinks slumber away from his eyelids, the spot on the other side of the bed still retains some of its former warmth, though the sleepy hand that he runs over it is met with the cold softness of empty bedsheets at the end of his fingertips.

A ray of early sunlight is streaming into the room, gently falling onto Shoyo’s bare freckled shoulder. He can hear the distant murmurs of the waking city, beyond the half-open windows and fluttering white curtains, and feel the gentle morning heat rising. It will be another sunny day, filled with the familiar scorching of the sand under his feet and the coolness of beers with friends in the evening.

Shoyo yawns into his pillow, lazily turning over in the few seconds of drowsy bliss that he savours before decisively jumping to his feet. A professional athlete, he no longer counts on lying in to properly delight in the benefits of a good morning - a delectable and energising breakfast, this is what he enjoys the most. Quickly pulling a cream-coloured t-shirt over his head, Shoyo stops by the bathroom before heading toward the kitchen, where a certain person may be waiting for him. The delicious wafts of coffee and sugar floating into the rest of the apartment is enough to tell him that Tooru is making breakfast.

He finds him by the hotplates, an old light blue San Juan VC t-shirt hugging the defined muscles of his supple torso, and his short brown hair slightly disheveled from the night. In his hand, a pan is happily sizzling with eggs and spices, while fresh coffee is brewing on the kitchen counter by a plate of diced fresh fruit. They bought the apartment together only a couple of months ago, but the cooking utensils playing hide and seek all over the place, the matching hand-towels hanging by the sink, and the chipped mug that Tooru insists on keeping—for old times’ sake—already make it feel like home. There are trophies and medals gathered on a shelf, pictures with friends and family put on display in the living room, the Olympic flag hung on one of the walls, a new couch that they bought for half the original price, volleyballs stacked in a corner of the room.

Tooru cranes his neck to see him when Shoyo walks in, his face illuminated by a warm smile. “Morning, Sho-chan.”

The endless care in Tooru’s eyes, aimed at him; the affectionate nickname that he gave Shoyo when they started going out, rolling off Tooru’s tongue; they send shivers down Shoyo’s spine as his hand sets on the small of Tooru’s back. “Good morning, Tooru.”

How has Oikawa, a high school rival that seemed to him so unreachable, become this to him? How could it be that their paths crossed again, so many years later, and ever since intertwined? Shoyo presses a kiss onto Tooru’s arm, and he tells himself that he cannot think too much into it. Somehow, he caught Tooru’s eye, and all he wishes for is to offer him a lifetime of the heaven that they first shared during those couple of days in Rio, when they had found an unexpected fragment of home in each other. Unbeknownst to them, back then they had given each other the very thing that they needed. A breath of passion; a friendly hand to pull oneself back up.

Peeking at the golden omelette in the pan, Shoyo feels the caress of Tooru’s lips on his temple. “The omelettes will be ready in a minute,” he says, focused on the dish he is preparing. It had not taken long for Shoyo to notice that whatever Tooru sets his mind to, be it volleyball, assembling furniture, or cooking, he does with the utmost dedication, never accepting to back down or leave it be if he cannot achieve the goal he imagined. Discipline, consistency, hard work; Shoyo and Tooru live by the same principles. But when they are together, the fun part never dies out. Shoyo wraps his arms around Tooru’s neck and plants another kiss onto his cheek, which has Tooru chuckle and teasingly mumble “the omelettes will burn if I get too distracted, Sho-chan.”

Shoyo pours steaming coffee into their mugs while Tooru is taking care of their meal, and when Tooru returns to the kitchen counter with two plates, the two of them are caught in the familiar rhythmicity of domestic routine. Shoyo’s body moves instinctively to leave room for Tooru who is setting down the plates, their arms brushing against each other, their legs bumping under the surface of the table. A tender touch, the gentle collision of their movements, fitting together. Tooru’s hand cups Shoyo’s cheek and he leans across the counter to kiss him on the lips, enthralled by the kindness that he reads on Shoyo’s face, the unbounded love that he sees in his brown eyes, speckled with gold under the morning light. Shoyo kisses back, with the impulse of a thousand butterflies taking off in the pit of his stomach.

“Thank you for the breakfast,” Shoyo murmurs against Tooru’s lips, his hand softly going up Tooru’s tight forearms.

“Anything for my beloved,” Tooru flashes a smile at him, ever playful and loving, and glances at their plates. “Dig in while it’s still hot.”

“Itadakimasu!”

The omlette is delicious. They eat, chat, and discuss the latest V. league news. Laughter is echoing in the kitchen, the sunlight is pouring into the room, catching in Shoyo’s blazing hair, and they cannot take their eyes off each other. In the afternoon, they will be playing beach volleyball again, then Tooru is to write back to a journalist who wishes to interview him for a Brazilian sport’s magazine—Shoyo took care of teaching Tooru the basics of Portuguese. Never has Shoyo thought that his life would come to this, having breakfast with Tooru in their very own apartment, their futures full of dreams that once seemed impossible. And, with every bite into the omelette, he tastes all the love that was put into building this life.

#hinata shoyo #oikawa tooru #hinata shoyo x oikawa tooru #oihina #oihina fanfiction #hinata shoyo fanfiction #oikawa tooru fanfiction #haikyuu! fanfiction #hq fanfiction #my writing #writing #haikyuu! one shots #hq one shots

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voidwritesstuff · 1 year ago

Text

The Ferryman.

->summary: after a night of pinning after the bartender at Dionysus Bar, Desmond finds himself deep withing a most peculiar realm, and its master is happy to see him.

->Cw: alusions to death,mentions of alcohol.

->Mini playlist to listen to while reading (in order): The Bone King Waltz by Peter gundry, the ghost bar (the sexy brutale ost), my love is mine all mine by mitski.

Desmond Woke up incredibly cold, his extremeties feeling like two icecubes. He looks around at the cementary hes in, his breath materializes infront of him.

--What the-- his breath hitches as he sees a tall skeletal figure walk past him, they seem to almost float with a thin mist trailing behind him like the train of a dress.

The figure stops at a grave, sat Nestled between the roots of a large willow tree. Upon further inspection the trunk of the tree seeme to be rotting away. They kneel and place a red spider lily on it, and then they stand up and float silently out of the cementery.

Curious,Desmond walks up to the graves and cleans the few bits of Ice that stuck to the stone. His eyes go wide as he reads "L. Castro, beloved son,brother and great artist".

The world around him is so deathly cool, the wind blows and theres a certain sweet smell of Decay . Its a night of deep winter, nothing grows, the epitome of death, but its not depressing but rather comforting. The moonlight peeks through the heavy dark clouds in intervals,drowning the world in an almost absolute darkness.

"No...no no no" he panics,his eyes dart to the exit and the trail of light grey blueish mist that was left behind by that thing, he runs after it as silently as he can. A part of him knows better than disturb the figure he saw as he follows them.

Then,he follows them around the town, its desolate, theres mist everywhere and only moonlight filters through the heavy black clouds. Hes freezing alive,he Holds on to himself as his breath shakes.

Why is this figure so familiar? Why does he recognize the movements? The styling of the clothes is so familiar but he cant place it.

The figure moves with Grace like a dancer or a bartender on a busy night. Hes hypnotized by the swaying of their hips with every step they take. His breath hitches again, his eyes go wide a little and he forces himself to look away.

"Get a hold of yourself,Wales" he thinks, and follows them to a bar. The neon sign shines a faint light blue, theres red lillies made of the same tubing that shines red, "Hades' Bar"

The bar looks more like a Fantasy tavern mixed with gothic architecture, it standa tall in its blak wooden exterior and black iron supports.

The figure stops at the blackstone steps up the door, it lets out a silent sigh as its breath is pure frost. That explains the utter cold and ice everywhere.

They unlock the door and step in,and as they do so the dark wood door blooms with red spider lillies. Desmond hears a familiar voice call out to the figure-- Ah,Buenas Noches Decay!

Desmond managed to peak behind a Windows with its red curtains partially drawn. His breath stops.

Agent Rainbow--

He sat there, on a bar stool as the figure, Decay, goes around the counter to the mirrored shelf. And then it dawns on him, this is a distorted version of Dionysus Bar in milton heaven. And if thats Agent Rainbow,his shadow, sitting on the same spot Desmond always sat when he went to that bar,then the figure is--

--Lazaro-- he exclaimed under his breath and for a moment,Decay looks towards the Window,he doesnt see any eyes looking under the sharp shadow of the hood. But Decay just shrugs and pulls away his hood that made him look like a grim reaper.

He wears a crown with red lillies, the spikes that made the crown looked more like moth antennae rather than spikes, and at the base of each one there are smaller skulls.

Lazaro's shadow exhales that ghastly frost of a breath, the skulls of the crown exhale it too.

--oh Decay-- Agent rainbow breathes,sounding Like he was a teen in love in an overexaggerated cheesy movie-- dont you look absolutely cold and dead today

The skeletal figure laughs, it sounds like a gasping, ragged breath. Bone chilling. His black eyesockets settle on the Rainbow-- Dearest.. what are you doing in the bar before I opened it?

--I wanted to surprise you,of course!--The other Man replied, taking the skeletal hand, some of the liquid in his hand seems to freeze in a tricolor Ice, before melting-- Beside, I wanted to spend time with you before this place is packed with the dead and they steal your stone cold gaze away from me~

Desmond cringes a how cheesy it is, but Decay is into it-- Ah I see, and that prompted you to sneak into my bar?

--Yes sir--rainbow tips his hat at him.

--Hm, fine-- his skeleton mouth presses against the other Man's lips. As he does so, a gaunt face grows on the skeleton, its made out of frost and Ice. Desmonds eyes go wide as he realizes its lazaro's face.

--One day i hope my lips remain stuck on your Icey face,so I can Keep kissing you-- His shadow flirted, kissing the knuckles of the other Man.

--One day perhaps--Decay agreed--for now how about you settle for sharing a drink with me before I Open for bussiness?

--That would be splendid, my ferryman

Decay pours a double whiskey on the rocks for Agent rainbow, while he makes himself a Necromancer Martini, the same drink Lazaro drank aside from beer. The two men sit on the same side of the bar, Agent has his hand on his companion's knees as both drink,desmond has no clue how because one had no mouth and the other was a skeleton.

--Will there be a day where your counterpart finally asks mine out?--Decay asked, looking beautiful like fresh snow and elegant like glinting diamonds. He sits with such a Poise and confidence that its almost ethereal, his cold mist of icy death glimmers like snow under moonlight.

-- 'm afraid not,or at least I dont think so. I tried giving him advice and pickup lines but hes stubborn

--You can charm anyone, why wouldnt he accept your help?--Rainbow gestures at himself-- right...

--His loss-- The other Man says-- though its a shame, I really wish he finally manned up

Decay smiles somehow, his naturally cold gaze softens-- Well, Lazaro is thinking of asking him out,maybe all he needs is a kickstart

--And a big one at that--rainbow quipped,taking a big long sip of his whiskey.

--You are incorregible, 'Gent-- the skeleton said, incredible fondness and warmth in his tone.

--You love me this way

--And I wouldnt have you any other way-- decay gives his lover one last kiss and finishes his Martini.

Desmond watches as Decay gets ready for the night, picking out glasses and liquor. But what really knocks the air out of him is his shadow form.

Agent rainbow, the thing that tried to kill him multiple times, everything he hated about himself, was docile,domestic. He polished the wooden tables, fixed up the Chairs and lit up the Giant fireplace that probably made the chilly interior of the bar feel cozy and comfortable. He also figured that Decay couldnt start a Fire given he was pure chill.

--Ill come back to help you close-- Agent announced as he fixed up his fedora.

--Very well,Im guessing youre going to see blaze?

He nodds-- I Will, I hope his other boyfriend didnt steal her away for long

Decay laughs, that bone chilling laughter of the dead-- lets hope not,send my sister my regards

--Will do,Handsome -- and with that, Agent leaves the bar without looking back

Desmond sits by the entrance to the pub, hid away and out of sight. He watches blurry silhouette of enteties of light and shadow enter in conversation that sounds like radio static.

But he watches through the Window as Decay moves with Grace across the bar, smaller skeletons serve the costumers as whimsy clasical music played from an upper floor, the ghosts and skeletons playing are wearing masks and shine with a faint blue light.

As the night progresses it gets colder and colder, hes practically about to go into hypothermia when one of the souls exciting drops their cloak. Hes quick to put it on and notices that it had pocket and that there was money, some sort of iron coins.

Pulling the cloak over his head, desmond entera the bar, nobody seems to notice him and he sits in the back, watching as Decay attends the bar.

--Just a beer-- He ordered to the skeleton waiter, and he watches it leave without a Word spoken.

Its absolutely captivating to watch Decay twirl around the bar,make conversation with the souls,he walks- he floats with overflowing confidence that desmond wishes he had. He thinks it looks just like Lazaro when he works at the bar.

His beer arrives and for the remaining of the night he just watches the bar and how it behaves, its nothing like hes seen before. No other "mind realm" was as lively as this one, as if it existed between the realm of the living and the dead.

Chiron the ferry of the dead, the similarities were right there, the bar was called Hades(the name of the King of the underworld), the dead souls flowing, the skeletons, the coins that look so much like the ones used to pay the ferryman.

And of course,there was Decay himself, a skeleton King that seemed to float like a boat in the water, his energy that made the air ripe witt necromancy. If this was Lazaro's shadow, then he wondered just how much power he himself held.

Desmond leaves as the bar empties out, hoping that "Chiron" as he got to call decay now, didnt notice a living person walk amongst the dead. Maybe the cloak masked him?.

But he returns to his previous snooping place, he hides when agent rainbow comes to help him close shop. By that time it had to be before sunrise.

--Love-- Called agent,his raspy,gravelly voice is uncharacteristically soft-- 'm all done here

Decay looked up from the glass he was polishing-- splendid. I think ill leave the servants to close up.

-- Perfect-- Agent puts on his fedora and offers his arm, Decay takes it and both walk out of the Pub. They walk away leaning on eachother, the skeleton was bigger than rainbow by a lot, just like lazaro was with desmond.

Both look so in love, it makes him jealous. Both laugh and chuckle and giggle at inner jokes, they flirt and sometimes dance together under the peeking moonlight, the skeletons mist glinting Like diamonds. It looks Straight out of a movie, he hates it.

Desmond keeps a healthy distance from the pair, his mind is filled with thoughts about how he wishes that his relationshipp with Lazaro was just like that, but he knew the truth about himself,he was shy,awkward, and heavy in denial.

He never liked men- except a few times in his childhood but-- he was confused right? Then why is he so jealous? Why is he yearning for something like the relationshipp those two had? Why does it bother him that their shadows, that which they repress, are happy together. How can Agent Rainbow be together with Decay already, why cant Desmond have some of that confidence himself?

Agent parts ways with Decay at the cementery, he kisses him and whispers something about finding him in his appartment (Desmond guessed rainbow had the same appartment that he had).

He follows the skeleton Man back to that grave, but this time he makes no effort to hide.

Decay freezes the rotting Bark, another spider lily rests on the tomb. He turns and simply smiles to the best he can with his skull for a head.

--Desmond...-- He sounds..happy to see him.

--Laz- Decay -- Des replied, fixing his glasses and feeling incredibly flustered like he did when lazaro was around.

--This is most curious, what are you doing here?-- he kneels to eye level and tilts his head just the way lazaro does, it makes the Man's heart squeeze with yearning.

--I - I wish I knew-- he replied with a nervous chuckle,looking away-- I uhm ..didnt know you existed

-- I do-- the skeleton agrees--Its good to see you,though. --his voice fills with the same warmth it has when he speaks to rainbow, desmonds breath hitches and hes taken back. Was he really using that tone with him?.

--Oh..I uhm. Yeah I havent been to the bar in a while

--Yeah, i- he- he misses you--Decay confessed, cupping the Mans cheek and making him look into his eye sockets.

His frost breath fogs up his glasses, and desmond feels like hes going to die from how fast his heart was beating. The skeletal hand is deathly cool...but soft.

--O-oh..-- its all the therapist replies,enamored by the feeling of what he guessed was the skeletons gaze. Its overwhelming,filled with love and...yearning. yearning for Desmond and nobody else. Was this Decay or Lazaro himself?.

--Come by sometime-- begged the shadow form, genuine hurt in his voice.

They go quiet,both of them, all they hear is the whistling wind and the rustling of dead trees. He looks at the rotting tree and he feels...

Decay looks too,and sighs. The Ice keeps the rot from spreading, a short term solution but not permanent.

Desmond looks into the rotting willow tree, he feels overwhelmed with burnt out, with exhaustion, with a deep desire of realese, of yearning for the pain to end.

--Nurse him back to health. Please-- Decay Begged once more-- this garden...my- our garden is rotting. -- his skeletal hand moves to his chin, his face frosting over into a human one ,gaunt but still drop dead gorgeus.

And desmond, for once,doesnt fight it. He leans in, hands reaching for his cloak. And then....

Hes awake, in bed, glasses thrown haphazardly on the nightstand. He turns,heart Racing and almost beating out of his chest, his body feels warm as hes flustered.

But his eyes catch the sigh of something red on the other side of the bed, long time since it has been last occupied by someone, a loved one or a partner.

There, on the pillow is a Red Spider lily. The pillow feels deathly cool to the touch, and looking at the flower he tries to steady his breath.

The realm of the dead would call to him, its master, chiron, the skeleton King, Decay, would demand his presence, and who was he to say no to the ferryman?

#oc: lazaro castro/the decay #ism desmond #ism oc #in sound mind oc #desmond wales

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