#outcome 3 x reader

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

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Outcome 3 x GN!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • Kinktober 2024 Masterlist • Day 3: Drinking Game

Summary: Truth or dare?

A/N: Opps, this is basically fluff. Thank you @thexsanctuaryx for saving my butt and beta-ing again!

Warnings: fluff, teasing, drinking, please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 649

You take a shot, the whiskey burns your throat. You can’t remember if it’s your fourth or fifth, your tolerance having been consistently burned down during the course of the evening. 

There’s a pleasant buzz at the back of your head.

He chuckles, his dark eyes twinkling. “I can’t believe you didn’t want to answer that one.” 

It’s the first time you’ve seen him so relaxed, without every single muscle tensed, posed and ready to strike.

You pull a face, “I have my reasons.”

“Which are?” Amusement dances in his expression.

You pause then shake your head. “Nope.” 

“That’s unfair.” 

“Is not.” 

He shifts a little closer to you on the floor, pressing his arm against yours, “Is too.”

Outside the wind is howling, the night dark and cold. 

The light from the fire plays across his skin dreamily. 

“I took my shot.” You gesture to yourself. “I’m playing by the rules.”

He tuts playfully, “How is, ‘Are you interested in anyone right now?’ so difficult to answer?”

“You can’t trick me, mister. I’m still not gonna tell you, besides it’s your turn.” 

“Fine.” He gives you an eyebrow raise and then pretends to think. “Truth.”

You pout at him for a second and then grin wickedly. “Are you interested in anyone right now?” 

He snorts.

“See?” You gloat. “Not so chatty now are you?” 

“Yes.” 

“What?” 

“The answer’s yes.” He gives you a smug smile. “Your turn.”

“What?” You splutter. “Who?” 

“It’s your turn.” 

“Hey-”

“Rules are rules,” he nudges your shoulder again, “and it’s your turn.”

You sigh dramatically. “Alright…” You know he’s going to ask something similar again, and again if you say truth until you’re too tipsy not to answer honestly. You swallow. 

Part of you wishes he wasn’t so beautiful, wasn’t so charming. That you weren’t hopelessly head over heels in love with him. 

But he obviously had someone he had eyes on. You tried not to let the disappointment that was tearing at your insides show. 

“Dare.” You finally say. 

“A kiss.” He speaks so softly you think you must have misheard.

“Sorry?” Your voice comes out quieter than you intended, breathless.

“A kiss,” he repeats, leaning closer until he can brush his nose against yours. 

“I…” You don’t know what to do, what to say, your mind racing and also unhelpfully blank. 

He reaches up slowly and lightly touches your cheek in a silky sweet contact. Your skin buzzes, practically hums where his fingers brush against you. 

“A kiss.” He says a third time, barely moving his lips this time as he tilts his head to the side and closes the gap. 

He kisses you softly, gentle and sweet like he doesn’t want to break you, but he groans when your lips move against his. His touch on your cheek grows firmer, his fingers slide down to cradle the back of your neck as he flicks his tongue along your bottom lip. 

This can’t be real, can’t be happening. You’d had too much to drink and passed out on the stupidly plush carpet. 

He hums against you, his kisses growing bolder, more demanding as he licks into your mouth, teasing your tongue with his own. He tastes like the whiskey and that stupid lemon you’d dared him to eat six rounds ago. 

His lips are softer than you expected, but as skilled and firm as you’d daydreamed of.

When he finally pulls back he keeps his eyes closed, a soft lovesick smile on his face. 

You swallow nervously, all words empty from your mind.  

“You can ask me that truth now.” He says softly, his hand still on your neck, tracing soft circles along your skin that makes you shiver deliciously and ache with want. 

“I…who are you interested in?” You finally stammer out, getting lost in his dark eyes. 

He kisses you again, lightly and whispers against your lips. “You, dummy.”

Thank you for reading!

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[ivystoryweaver]

Day 1: I'm So Sorry (Outcome 3)

Angstember Prompt Post || Word Count: 1.4k

Notes: hurt/comfort, violence, wounds, blood. Happy ending.

You had a job to do. It was him or you.

You parachuted in to the remote area of Alaska he occupied. Then came the miles-long hike.

Thankful for the good shape you were in due to your intense training, you made it to his cabin by dusk. Probably stupid to hike to your mark during daylight, but more foolish to hike during frigid darkness.

The cabin was hidden enough, and no smoke billowed from the chimney. He probably froze on the regular just to further hide himself. You'd never met a more stubborn or determined man.

Determined to win you, long ago.

You paused a moment to collect your thoughts and steel yourself. Despite your stealthy efforts, he no doubt already knew you were here.

You didn't make it one step closer to his doorway when a shotgun cocked dramatically behind you.

"I've been waiting for you."

God, it had been so long since you'd heard his voice. But you were trained to be stronger than to melt at the sound of it.

"Whatever you came to do, it's not going to happen. I should kill you for even coming here," he added. The rough anguish in his voice reached deep inside you to stir forgotten yearnings.

Now to accomplish an improbable task: getting him to trust you. It was either win his trust or end his life. And the latter was not an option for you, despite your mission's directive.

"I came here to warn you. To give you a head start," you told him, an unplanned waver shaking your voice.

You thought he would have recognized you before, possibly from behind, or from surveillance. His next action alerted you to the fact that it was your voice that gave you away.

He stalked in determined strides around to face you, mouth open, dark eyes glistening with betrayal. "They sent you?" He never lowered his weapon.

You swallowed hard, drinking in the sight of him after so long apart - the years and the environment making him more ruggedly handsome than you could have imagined: stunning brown skin and inky curls against a curtain of white winter.

"I volunteered," you carefully admitted.

He withdrew, as if stung...wounded. "Why? It could have been anyone else."

Resisting the urge to approach him, you hoped he would listen. "Something's happening. They're...eliminating people. So many. Operation Outcome is being erased. I volunteered for this. To warn you. To get you out."

He shook his head, his stubbled jaw clenching. "Show me your weapons. Slowly."

You nodded, carefully removing several guns and daggers before holding your hands back up in surrender.

With a slight tip of his head, he indicated you should go inside. He motioned for you to take a seat at a creaky wooden kitchen table, securing your wrists before searching you for more weapons. The feel of his hands, even through your snow suit, sent memories flooding through your mind and body.

He found a dagger you neglected to produce outside. The corner of his mouth curled. "You used to keep this one on your right thigh."

That was back when both the dagger and you belonged to him.

He didn't arm himself to interrogate you, but simply leaned against the kitchen counter and folded his arms over his sweater covered chest. In another setting, he would appear almost cozy.

"You said you're here to warn me, but we both know that's not true," he said, regarding you carefully. "So, how far behind you are they? Or did you come to do the job yourself?"

You shook your head adamantly. "I'm here alone. This is my mission." Tugging against your restraints, you groaned. "Look, this is all the help you're going to get. They'll send a drone if I don't report back. They'll kill us both."

"That still doesn't explain why you're here." His eyes traveled up and down the curves of your bound body. "You really needed to see this through, didn't you?"

"I stayed with the company. That doesn't mean I want you dead," you passionately argued. "You're the one who - "

"Shh!" He hissed, extending his arm to hush you. Glancing at his security monitors, he realized a drone had arrived to fire on the cabin. With determined strides, he took your dagger and flicked it through your bonds.

Hauling you out of the chair, he dragged you out the back door, screaming at you to run.

A concussive blast sent your bodies flying, partially deafening you. Your world went black.

You awakened in cold darkness, save for a small, crackling fire. Attempting to talk, it came out as a whimper.

He shushed you, but gently this time. "I didn't know if you would wake up," he confessed, scooting closer to you.

His voice sounded garbled and everything hurt. He brought water to your lips and encouraged you to keep drinking small sips. He offered you a bite of the rabbit he killed, but your stomach roiled in protest.

All you wanted was to sleep.

"I'm pretty sure you have a concussion. You can't go back to sleep. Not all night anyway."

You didn't remember much except that he seemed to keep waking you up and asking you simple questions to check on your concussion. He also coaxed you to drink each time.

Dawn broke and you realized he was asleep with you, holding you. Your body quickly remembered the safety of his embrace and you sank into him gratefully. Even out here in the wilderness, he still smelled so familiar.

You felt physically awful, but marginally more clearheaded. At least enough to notice a scrape marring the side of his beautiful face. His lip was split and there was no telling what else might be wrong underneath his bulky sweater.

Brushing thick, dark curls away from his eyes, you gazed longingly at the man you used to love.

"I'm so sorry," you whispered, your head hurting too much to cry. "I didn't mean for this to happen."

His eyes flickered open and he flinched, seeing you so close.

“Shhh, it’s okay,” you soothed. “It’s just me. I’m sorry. So sorry.”

You reached for his face. "I couldn't let them kill you."

He managed a weak smile, reaching for the hem of his sweater. With difficulty, he raised the hem of the wool, as well as the thermal shirt underneath to reveal a sizable shard of metal lodged in his abdomen.

"Too late to stop that, I think."

Tears flooded your eyes as you inspected the wound with soft fingertips.

"Why didn't you say something?"

"Kinda busy," he huffed, easing onto his back with a groan, his breath labored.

You needed a hospital. You needed a lot of things. But you just wanted him to live. That was the whole point of you being here. So he would live.

"Busy saving my ass, as usual," you tearfully nodded, yanking off your scarf to tie tightly around his abdomen.

"Don't think that's gonna help, honey."

You swatted his hand away. "You don't get to die on me. Do you hear me?" You grabbed his sweater, twisting desperately. "I'm now unemployed and as much of a fugitive as you are. So you don't get to leave me."

"Why did you come back? Thought you'd never forgive me." His eyes struggled to remain open as his dark curls splayed across stark white snow.

"Please don't leave me." You whispered his name. His real name. The one he told you so long ago, when he had you underneath him, your bodies joined as secrets spilled out.

It was the last thing he heard.

He woke up underneath a shabby, handmade quilt, smelling of mothballs, with you by his bedside.

"Oh thank god," you breathed, blooming to life at the sight of him conscious.

"Where...am I?" He rasped, his throat raw with thirst.

"You're safe," you explained, offering him a sip of water. "I used all my savings to have a very questionable man operate on your stomach. But you'll live." Smiling softly down at him, you brushed his thick curls away from his eyes.

He tried to sit up, but immediately hissed in pain.

"Take it easy," you instructed him gently.

His eyes landed on yours, dark eyebrows arching pleadingly. "So this means you forgive me?"

Leaning in, you pressed a soft kiss to his parched lips. "You left to save my life. And you almost died saving me again." Touching your forehead to his, you whispered his name again. "You're forgiven."

He smiled, relief crinkling the corners of his eyes before he kissed you back.

"Oh, and we're Canadian now, by the way. Gotta lay low...for a long time."

"The rest of our lives?" His eyebrows shot up inquisitively.

"Yeah," you whispered, "the rest of our lives."

Angstember Masterlist || Misc. Masterlist || Main Masterlist

[hoedamn-eron]

Happy Father's Day!

Happy Father's Day to all the parents out there! In celebration (and because I haven't managed to finish my Baby, Please Santi x Reader one shot), here are a list of my fics with daddy Oscar 😉😘

Sports Day - It’s your daughter’s sports day at school, and Jake decides to take part in the “dad race”. (Jake Lockley x Reader)

Baby, Please - Your dating life had been a range of fleeting moments and one night stands. You thought Santiago Garcia would be no different. (Santiago Garcia x Reader)

Shut up, Kid - You awake to your first Mother’s Day with baby Bateman. (Nathan Bateman x Reader)

Bluey! - Nathan discovers your son’s favourite show. (Nathan Bateman x Reader)

Sick Bug - Silas is ill with a bug. (Nathan Bateman x Reader)

Oscar Isaac Characters as Dads (includes Nathan Bateman, Llewyn Davis, Blue Jones, William Tell, Laurent LeClaire, Basil Stitt, & Outcome 3)

I will eventually post that one shot, I'll make sure of it. Fingers crossed it's today!

[soulreader05]

Y/N : Me and Yuka were just crossing the street, and this guy drove by and honked at us.

David (Outcome 3) : **Sighs** What did Yuka do?

Y/N : She chased him to the next red light, then reached into his window and... well-

Yuka : I got a steering wheel.

[eyelessfaces]

An Outcome 3 and/or Orestes moodboard?

we have so little about his character I did my best </3

🦐

[l0vergirls]

imagine jason comforting you, with his fingers carding through your hair and a secure arm around you, as you lean on his chest, finding comfort in his steady heartbeat.

he'd pepper kisses on the crown of your head and when he senses that you're getting lost in your thoughts again, it's okay, he murmurs, i'm here.

it's enough to ground you back to reality, reminding yourself that it's over, you're okay, and you're back in the loving arms of your partner.

you move around to face jason, yet you don't meet his eyes. instead, you bury your face into the crook of his neck, wrapping your arms around him. you feel his hold on you tighten the slightest bit, his entire being radiating warmth.

he knows you don't want to talk about it now, he's been the same way— he still is the same way whenever he's in your position,

so he holds you close, hoping you can feel what words cannot convey,

i love you, i'm here for you.

[ivystoryweaver]

@lunar-ghoulie4art @lunar-ghoulie his HANSOME SMUG FACE

his hands and that signature hairrrrr i want to gobble him

This lil story is so clever, i love it!

hey @reallyrallyauthor, he is reading the serial killer novel from your story Murder Story and ask, @angel-of-the-moons

Recent Drabble #1, enabled encouraged by @lunar-ghoulie and her incredible artwork

She’s been sent on a mission for Outcome-3, and her plan just isn’t working.

A.N: Ovulation is a crazy thing ain’t it 🤪

Themes: attempted seduction, momentary flashing

She picked her way carefully through the snow laden woods and whipping wind. Her ears strained for any noises besides the howling through the trees that’d indicate she wasn’t alone but to no avail. Eventually she finally found her target, a singular dark cabin, with a light smoke emanating from its chimney. He’s already here…

Her mission was simple, Outcome-3 had disobeyed orders and needed to be debriefed and eliminated. She didn’t ask the reason, truly it didn’t matter and she wouldn’t have been given one any way. She was given his weakness though, sex.

Her target had been known for sleeping with assets unnecessarily and being easily distracted with women, despite their training. Honestly she didn’t know how he hadn’t been weeded out of the program to begin with if he had a propensity for distraction. With the Intel that he’s been alone on this mountain for weeks, should be easy enough.

She cursed to herself silently as she approached. She had to adjust her strategy with him already here. He’d never be dumb enough to believe the old “civilian damsel in distress because she wandered too far in the woods” routine… but maybe, a sprinkle of honesty may do her mission good.

She took a deep breath as she reached the wooded edge and pulled out her knife. She muttered a silent prayer, pulled up the hem of her cotton underwear and cut each side, wiggling out of them while keeping her other layers on, step one done. She burried the scrap of fabric in the snow. Step two would not be as easy. She took a deep breath, relaxed herself, and cut swiftly into her thigh.

Careful to angle the blade to miss any major arteries but enough that she’d need stitching up.

“Please.” She huffed “I - I need -�� her knees buckled. His hand was lighting fast as he grabbed her arm, gun still steady on her in the other. “- help.” She controlled her breathing to come out more as a sigh.

“Get in.” He pulled her in, shoving her on the ragged couch next to the door and slamming it shut. “Who sent you.” He clipped as he bolted the door shut.

“Same as you - my mission -“ she lulled her head back a moment “another agent tried to -“ she slumped further feigning that her consciousness was slipping.

“None of that, wake up.” He tucked his gun into his waistband and patted the side of her face. She kept her gaze heavy and even crossed her eyes a bit before going completely limp. “Fuck.”

He acted quickly, attempting to assess the wound but the multiple layers of her pants and longjohns made it difficult “fuck it,” he grumbled, quickly undoing her pants and yanking them down. “Shit.”

It took everything in her not to smirk, take a good look.

Barely a second passed from his words before he pressed a blanket onto the wound to stop the bleeding. The sudden shock of pain caught her off guard and she jolted up with a groan.

“Goddamnit.” She ground out before flopping back onto the couch.

“Sit still.” He snapped.

She lay there, trying to look unfocused while she assessed his posture, body language, even where he was looking. Everything showing he was focused on the task at hand. Damn…

She groaned in exaggerated pain and spread a little wider. Just a glimmer of distraction, c’mon.

But despite her attempts, he remained focused, packed and bandaged the wound, and by the end of it had pulled her pants back up and peppered her with questions.

She recited her carefully prepared script, adding some stammering and pauses along the way. And by the end of it all it was the wee hours of the morning and he’d relaxed a bit.

“Satisfied enough for sleep?” She feigned weakly. “It’s freezing - and there’s only one bed.” She glanced over at the low fire. “We could… share warmth?”

His gaze flickered over her as he stood. He looked over to the bed, then back to her. Getting up stiffly and adjusting the sheet. “Fine.” He huffed.

She stood, pushing down the inner triumph she felt before he tossed a blanket and pillow in her direction. “You take the blanket and couch. G’night.” He laid across the bare fitted sheet and closed his eyes.

What the- okay well, HQ was wrong about how easy this should be… it’d take more than flashing him and playing weak to get his attention. And the blizzard showed no signs of letting up…

[whinesandwhimpers]

reader who doesnt stay exclusive with one person. right now, you're dating four guys, all similar in some ways but also different and just...perfect. They all dont mind that you're dating other guys.

If only you knew they're all teammates together.

[osamusriceballs]

Kinktober Day 1 <3

Oikawa & Titfucking

Warnings: NSFW, fem reader

Words: ~ 1,2 k

Kinktober Masterlist II -> Next day

"C'mon, you need to try a bit harder, beautiful," he taunts you, his voice sweet like honey, like a soft caress on your skin.

"Can I please touch you? Please, Tooru, I need you," you try to coerce him into giving into you, but he still smiles at you pitifully, not showing the slightest attempt to let your wrists go. "I don't think that was convincing enough. Maybe I just need to make you wait a little longer."

A hiccup gets stuck in your throat and you wiggle in the tight grip of his hand while his teeth graze against the shell of your ear. "How about this? You get to touch me, and I get to fuck these pretty tits of yours? Does that sound good?" His free hand gently traces the outline of your exposed chest, and a shiver runs down your spine at the small action. Your back arches, your chest pressing tightly against his bare one, and you nod frantically, hoping to ease him into giving you more- and he finally releases your wrists, his hands softly caressing your cheek and your arms before he moves both hands down to your exposed chest. You gasp when his thumb caresses your nipples, the bubs hardening under his skillful fingers, his touch soft, yet with just the right amount of pressure to have airy breaths escape your lips.

"You can touch me wherever you want, pretty girl." The kind smile never leaves his face as he cups your tits and presses them together, making sure to "accidentally" brush his fingers over your nipples a few times again, his eyes taking in every single one of your reactions, reveling in the way your breath stocks for a second. "Sensitive here, beautiful?" At this point you think it's impossible for Oikawa to address you without a sweet nickname, and all of them seem to directly reach to your core and make your heart flutter even more.

His adjusts his position, making sure that his weight is not crushing you, but still pinning you to the bed before he finally lines up his cock at your tits. You let your now freed hands wander to his thighs, that seem even more muscular and defined ever since the Argentinian sun has shown its effect on him. The lean muscles tense under your fingers, and your breath stocks for a second when he suddenly spits down on one hand and languidly strokes his cock, right in front of your face, coating your chest with a bit of his saliva too.

You roam your hands to his abdomen, feeling him flexing at your touch, a deep breath leaving his lips, as he visibly gulps and focuses on your face while he strokes his cock. "Please, Tooru- fuck my tits, and then fuck me, please-" you whine, your hands wandering to his chest and feeling his heart pounding under your fingertips. You pause when he suddenly releases his cock, his expression changing from relaxed and understanding to determined and greedy for the first time, and he abruptly catches your wrists on his chest to bring them down to your tits. You get the hint and cup them, and he nods approvingly at the lewd sight of you, bare under him, your hands cupping your tits and your thighs clenching together, your needy and desperate expression making his breath stock for a second. He caresses your cheek gently one last time before he presses his cock against your tits, that are now dripping and glistening with his spit, one of his hands guiding the tip between them.

A low "fuuuuck" leaves his lips as he starts to buck his hips and fuck your tits, the tip of his cock hitting you chin every now and then when he thrusts his hips extra hard. Groans and whimpers leave his lips as he starts to pick up his pace, and the sounds turn you on even further, his desperate groans making the wetness pool between your legs. His eyes constantly move between your face and the way his cock moves between your tits, eager to see all of your reactions, and you blush feverishly under his intense gaze. You press your tits even further together and loll out your tongue, trying to get a taste of him whenever he thrusts hard enough, and his jaw drops at the sight- the sight of his beautiful wife begging for more. "More Tooru, use me, please-" his pace gets even faster at your words, his hips now feverishly bucking against your body as he chases his high, both of you knowing that he will finish soon. One of his hands comes to rest on your shoulder, while the other grasps the sheets, the muscles on his arms straining from the pressure, and the desperation is clear in his eyes as he fucks you with no restrain. The sheer force has your toes curing and your body aching for more- more of him. "Fuck- just like that- I'll-" broken words escape his lips, his teeth digging into his lower lip while you moan his name and lick the tip of his cock whenever you get the chance to, drool now coating your chin and dripping down to your neck. The sound of his cock fucking your wet tits is lewd enough to bring even heat to your cheeks, and you squirm under him, your walls clenching at the thought of him fucking you like this next.

You feel him tense and see how his muscles pop out when he finally cums, coating your chin and your chest in white, the feeling of it so lewd and so dirty, yet so forbidden good. You can see how he turns even more feral at the sight, his hips bucking one last time, his balls loudly smacking against the fat of your tits before his body loses all tension. He takes a few deep breaths, his brown eyes fixed on the mess he made on your chest, barely able to look away from it. "Fuck, you look so hot like that, love." His eyes roam to your face and you suppress the urge to turn away- because the intensity of his stare makes shivers run down your spine. He notices the shift in your face and he is quick to bring his hand to your chin to turn your face to him and to lean down to connect your lips with his. "I love you. You're my everything." The soft caress of his lips makes you almost explode from love but also from the aching need between your legs that he still needs to tend to. You're pretty sure that he notices the way you rub your legs together, at this point begging for any friction to ease to your needs- and Oikawa knows exactly what you need.

A mischievous smile sports his lips when he pulls back, and his thumb collects some of his cum on your chin and brings it to your mouth, forcing your tongue down and making you swallow the liquid.

"C'mon now, pretty girl. Show me how ready you are for me. Spread those legs for me, and I'll make you feel really good."

[tojiscrack]

the dancing scene in the most recent chapter of liar, liar, MEGUMI BLUSHING FOR THE SECOND TIME AS HIS HANDS COLLIDE WITH HER WAIST, i’m crying so much rn. i have NO ONE to speak to about this fic, maybe it’s my period but i can’t get enough of them.

i don’t want them to go through angst, i just want it all to be fluff fluff fluff y’alllll. someone needs to make a fanclub or SOMETHING because it’s killing me how i have no one to speak to about this 😭😭😭

‘liar, liar’ masterlist here:

ik this message was sent in as early as yesterday, but i’ve been out all day and i’ve finally got the time to respond to it. apologies if i’ve left you waiting ☹️💓

i wanna start off by saying you’re literally the sweetest person to ever grace this planet. as i write this slice of life rom-com, i was hoping for the rom part of this com would take over in that scene, and if it’s got you squealing and giggling, ik my mission’s been accomplished 😇

“i have NO ONE to speak to about this fic” — YOU HAVE ME!!! 😤

message me, send me your theories, comment, like, reblog your thoughts, SPAM ME IF YOU MUST, i encourage all of it 😩 !!! i want to see long and juicy comments. small ones are amazing too, but ofc, the more, the merrier! it’s the best part about writing — and it helps me piece out what you like and don’t like so i can make this ride as enjoyable as ever 😗

you beautiful anon, this is the fan club. it’s a small little family of liars we have rn, but still a family nonetheless. don’t forget that 🥹 it does seem like a wonderful idea to talk about ur theories with each other so i can just spectate and laugh to myself about it all, but if you’re shy, you always have me, the writer, who will always respond to ur silly comments and goofy thoughts 🩷🩷🩷

[aliasrocket]

So I was thinking Misery Business pt. 2 could go something like this …

Rocket shot up, head twisting in all directions to throw warm, thin sheets below him around to find the sweet scent buried beneath it all; sweet, but foreign.

Yet where was the culprit?

But then, with the thin sheets and the white bunk he realizes it’s not the scent that doesn’t belong.

It’s not his bed.

His feet meet the floor and he’s rushing out the room to be met with clashing sounds of utensils and when he turns to the cockpit he sees them. Everyone.

Gamora, Peter, Drax, Groot and …

You, with your food-stuffed mouth and spoon in your mouth.

D’asted idiot.

“Hey,” Rocket called you from the hallway, your name being dragged along the metal floors. “I gotta talk to you for a sec.”

“Oh.” You put down your food and rush over.

Rocket ranks you further away and puts you against the wall. His brows are furrowed and he had a hand on his forehead before he finally locked gazes with you, his eyes almost piercing a hole right through your perfectly fine morning.

“There’s a hickey on your neck, princess.”

“Are you serious?”

Rocket’s hand pressed against your sternum before slithering up to the side of your neck.

His nail pressed against a tender spot, making you wince.

“Right there.”

You grit your teeth.

“You gonna do something about it?”

“Nah, if you want another fuck you’re gonna have to work for it.”

[ivystoryweaver]

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🤖nathan bateman masterlist

🏜️leto atreides masterlist

🐈miscellaneous characters masterlist

🎉celebrations masterlist

📆events masterlist

🎁holiday fics masterlist

💯 ivy's recommendations

[hoedamn-eron]

@soulreader05 @ominoose Yaaaaaaas share your ideas, please!

Llewyn, Outcome 3, and William, let’s do it! (I haven't seen Llewyn Davis or Bourne Legacy yet so I'll try my best!)

tw for abortions again, and fears of abandonment/being a mostly single parent.

Llewyn Davis

Ahhhh girl dad

Absolutely, definitely did NOT mean to get you pregnant

You weren’t even together

He’s just a friend who sleeps on your couch (and in your bed) sometimes

You didn’t even see him for weeks after you found out you were pregnant

He just randomly turned up at your place again asking to stay the night

After a hot meal and an equally hot shower was when you gave him the news

You both argued, he wants you to get rid of it, and he ended up storming out

He didn't want a kid and he was pissed off that this had happened again

Again, you didn’t see him for a long time

I can see you bumping into him like months later when you’re like on the verge of giving birth

And he sees what an idiot he’s been and tells you he’s ready to step up

You give him some choice words, of course you do, but eventually you tell him that it’s his kid

You want him to be involved, for your kid to know their dad

He sheepishly just nods at you

You go into labour probably a few weeks after that

Unfortunately Llewyn cannot be found because you don't know which couch he's surfing on that week

So you have your baby alone and go home alone

He does turn up a few days later, with flowers and a pack of baby grows

Jean had told him you'd had the baby

You're pissed off, obviously, but you let him in to meet his daughter

I reckon her name would be something like Julia, or Juliet, something romantic

Llewyn is smitten

Asks to hold her, looking at you with those sad brown eyes that you melt for every time

Obviously you let him, this is his daughter

He's so gentle with her

He barely moves as he sits on the couch with her, just looking at your daughter with wonder

He makes a comment about how tiny she is

Your anger melts away and you wish you had a camera to capture the moment forever

He promises then that he'll be around more this time

And he is!

He stops by your place every day to help out with the baby as much as he can before he has to disappear to whichever venue he was performing at

He was back later that night at your place to help out all over again

I don't see you ever really getting together, but Llewyn doesn't exactly see anyone else 👀

(you'll work on it)

He sings to your daughter all the time

It calms her when she's upset

She just stares at him with a frown every time he sings

Then when she gets older, she sings along

He even teaches her a few chords, but she just strums and giggles at the noise

With what little money he makes, it all mostly goes to you and your daughter

And sometimes, if he has a little extra, takes her on daddy-daughter dates to a cafe

He treats her to cake

(sometimes when she wants something a little more expensive, he feels bad when he has to tell her no)

He'd like to spoil her but he just doesn't have the means to

You have to explain it to her when she asks you that sometimes her daddy tries his best but doesn't always have the money he wants for her

She gets a little sad but more so that her dad wants to get her things but can't

But overall she's just happy to see him when she can

Llewyn likes to take her to school in the mornings

He watches you brush her hair and put it into pigtails in the mornings

You always catch him watching you with a soft smile on his face

Holds her hand as they walk through the streets

They mostly talk about you, and how much they both love you

She asks if Llewyn wants to marry you

And he admits one day he would like to

"but that's our secret okay?"

he waves her off at the school gates

Sometimes takes you and her to one of his gigs if it's early enough in the night

And dedicates his songs to you and her, a smile on his face

(Okay maybe you do end up together in the end)

Outcome 3

This one's a toughy

I feel like this one will go either way too

My heart is also leaning towards girl dad

(It's the jumper)

I feel like your romance with Outcome 3 was a whirlwind

For one, he never gives you his name

You did not plan on getting pregnant

But you were happy that you were, you loved kids

Outcome was another story

He didn't really react when you told him

It was a bit unnerving

Eventually he told you it was a bad idea and you should get rid of it

You argued and he left

You didn't hear from him for a long time

Like all through your pregnancy, well past the birth, it wasn't until your daughter was nearly a year old that he turns up again

He's frantic, he's on the run, he needs to hide

You accept him into your home quickly, not even thinking about what was happening, you were just scared by the panic on his face

You started spouting question after question at him asking where he's been, what's going on, who's he on the run from

but he's just stood in your living room, staring at your daughter who is surfing along the couch on unsteady feet

You tell him her name, which I think would be something really simple and modern, like Ines, Eden, Lux

He just keeps staring at her

Honestly you think he probably forgot you were pregnant, he'd been gone so long

But he just slowly sits on the floor, watching her

Your daughter watches him with uncertain eyes for a moment before she giggles and runs away from him

He was gone after that

When your daughter is in bed, you really lay into him for leaving

He just takes your verbal beating and agrees with you

That he wasn't fair to you

And honestly, he was only here to lay low, but now he's seen his daughter, he wants to make up for lost time

He's never had stability in his life, he'd like to start that now, for him and his daughter

It takes you a while to warm back up to him but you're not going to stop him from seeing his daughter

(and you've come to accept you're never going to get an answer from him about where he's been)

He'd already missed out on so much

Can't leave the house much at the moment so tries to bond with his daughter with the limited stuff in the house

Reads a lot to her, but she mostly climbs all over him

(it doesn't phase him, he just continues reading)

Plays educational and sensory games with her, and does lots of crafts

Your fridge is full of pictures they've made together

You're daughter is obsessed with hide and seek

And Outcome is always happy to play

But your daughter is so good at hiding, he actually loses her

He panics thinking she's got out and she's gone forever

You laugh at him and tell him to check the cupboard under the sink

(you'd learned in the past to move the dangerous cleaning chemicals after you made the same mistake a while ago)

Sometimes likes to help you out in the morning and dresses her as best as he can

Strangely he has a good sense of style

Eventually, he has his connections create a completely new identity for him

And he can leave the house a little more

His favourite thing is to take your daughter to the park

He follows her around cautiously, scared she's going to trip and hurt herself

She's just a constant ball of energy and it's the only place she can tire herself out

This does not change as she gets older

You and Outcome (now legally Michael) sign her up for kids soccer

He loves going to her games and cheering her on from the sidelines

She always screams if he saw her whenever she kicked the ball or even scored

He always shouted back how good of a job she was doing

Has the other moms swooning

Much the delight of the other dads

You feel like you need to mark your territory

Outcome finds it funny

Because even after all this time, you still haven't had the talk about what you were

(even though he's been living in your house and sleeping in your bed for years now)

(you're a couple, let's be real)

William Tell

boy dad

are you kidding me?

other than Nathan, he is the boyest of boy dads

Like with Llewyn, your relationship was casual

Like if he was in the area, he'd call you up

Anyway, you ended up pregnant after his most recent visit

Obviously wasn't planned and you truthfully thought about getting rid of it

You were alone, really, you didn't think you were ready

So you called him, and told him the news as soon as he picked up the phone

He was silent before he said "Oh."

He asked you what you wanted to do, because he wasn't ever going to be around, so it'll be harder on you than it was on him

You told him you were thinking of getting rid of it

He said okay, he'd send money if you needed it

But after a few more weeks, you decided you were ready to be a mother

You had a decent place and a good job and yes it would be scary to do it on your own, but you're confident you'll be able to do it

(you're lying you're scared shitless to do it on your own)

William had kept in contact more often the last few weeks since you told him about the baby

So it wasn't hard for you to let him know you were keeping it

He was okay with it

Again, just warned you he wouldn't be around

Which you were not okay with

You were a badass single mom

You kept William updated, sending pictures of ultrasounds and health updates

You found out you were having a boy and immediately told him

He sounded happy about it, from what you could tell

You told him when you were in labour, and I feel like he would show up

Maybe not in time to see his son be born, but still, he turned up with a gift bag with baby clothes and a stuffed bear

He was uncharacteristically nervous walking into the hospital room

And even more nervous to pick up his son

You'd discuss a name with him then

Something like Theodore, Alexander, Oliver

You let William have his moment with his son but he eventually told you he couldn't be as around as you want him to be

"he doesn't work that way"

You'd accepted it long ago

He leaves a few days after you're all settled at home

You updated him as often as you could and William never failed to Facetime every night to see his son

When he's a little older, William starts showing up more

William wants to right the wrongs made by being a better dad

So he does

Takes his son out on walks in the stroller as you take some time for yourself

Just talks to him about the places he's been and the people he's met

(skips out the whole...military part and prison)

Buys your son so many toys and clothes, you don't know what to do with them all

You tell William that there is just not enough room, and he'll grow out of them before he gets to wear them and it's a waste of money

William just shrugged at you

When your son is older, he tries to teach him card tricks

But your son just likes watching William shuffle the cards

And you scolded him for teaching your 3 year old how to play poker

Willam just gave you a smirk

William still travels away and it makes your son sad when he does

But like before, Facetimes every night at bedtime and they read a story together

William calls you after your kid is asleep just to talk about your day

you usually fall asleep on the phone a few hours later

Similar to Llewyn, William likes to pick his son up from school, to surprise him

Tells you in advance he's going to show up

Your son loves it, always comes sprinting out of the school and into his dads arms

The moms all have a crush on him, since he's so elusive and a silver fox

They wonder where you've been hiding him and he's a regular talking point at the PTA meetings

Your son is essentially set for life

William sends you money every month but he also has a savings account for the kid that's already nearing half a mil

He doesn't tell you about it

Just encourages his son to do well in school and go on to be a better man than he ever was

You already think that William is a better man

listen okay

been thinking about Oscar's characters and what they're like as dads

Spoke very briefly with @writefightandflightclub about this, months ago (can't even find the post it was that long ago - I'll link it later if I do)

Poe Dameron is a girl dad

Santiago Garcia is a girl dad (see here)

Steven Grant is a girl dad

And Marc Spector and Jake Lockley

(Jake especially)

But Nathan Bateman

Nathan Bateman oozes boy dad

Because, right:

Nathan created Ava and has the mindset that girls are scary

(And Luna pointed out that he'd be wary after that having a girl after 'the incident' and I agree)

Seems like the kind of guy to say 'first time, guaranteed' after sex, when you both agree to start trying

(he was right, it was)

(you still don't know how he did it)

Anyways, you both have a boy

He needed to find out at your anomaly scan because he hasn't been able to control one single thing during this pregnancy and he hates it

So he voted he found out the gender

Makes you put on classical music for "the foetus" (Nathan's words) because he seems like that type of guy

Not that he doubts the kid'll be a genius, but it can't hurt

When your son is here, Nathan would be a mess

It was one thing knowing you were pregnant, seeing the bump and ultrasounds and all

But now there's an actual kid

A kid that is fully reliant on him

Nathan probably wouldn't sleep for weeks

Just sit and works and watches the kid, make sure he's breathing

He'd mellow out eventually, when you'd told him he needed sleep and can't keep doing this to himself

You took over the night shift after that, mostly

He isn't the kind of dad to rough house

But one that you'll catch talking out coding issues to an infant who just stares at Nathan, just because of the sound of his voice

Your son would look nothing like you, and take everything after Nathan (he's super smug about it too - not only can he make literal lifelike robots, but he has 'superior genes' too)

Would want to call the boy something unique like Silas, or Atlas, something along those lines

You had veto'd them very quickly

But Silas grew on you, so I can imagine you agreed to a unique name

Once your son was old enough, he'd definitely teach him how to box

Since Nathan's sleep schedule is fucked (he's working on it), he's always up first with the kid

You'll always find them on the decking at the punching bag

Nathan was always guiding him, praising him when your son eventually punched the bag

You and Nathan both regularly went out on hikes (he enjoyed them more than you did) even before the kid

When the kid was born, it was easy to carry him around in a carrier on your chests

But when he got older and learned to walk, he never wanted to be carried

And the hikes took longer

So now Nathan's planned out new family friendly routes for you all, where you'll all be out for an hour, tops, and not far from the house

Nathan really hates mess, so will probably follow the kid around once he starts walking, just picking up after him

If he's stressed or hungover (he's working on that too) he would probably yell at you to sort it out

He'd apologise later after you chewed him out, even offering to do bath time and get the kid ready for bed

"I'll read him a story or some shit"

(It's probably Stephen Hawking)

He'd arrange someone to decorate the kids bedroom to look like space or something

You had a field day looking around the IKEA website and choosing what you wanted for your son's dream bedroom, but Nathan had just rolled his eyes and got the more expensive, designer, equivalent and it was delivered within a week

You'd told him off for doing it, but he just shrugged at you wordlessly as he set up the bedroom for your son

This is long enough, I'm gonna stop here, but now I want to write a full series of dad!Nathan 😭😭😭

[tsunami-watch]

Name: Outcome-3

Age: 32

Occupation/Association: Former FIA Agent/Merc | Nomads

Status: Alive

Short Bio/Backstory: Part of the highly classified NUSA government project to create the perfect supersoldier/spy/assassins, Operation Outcome, on the run after failing an assignment and betraying direct orders. Is currently hiding in the autonomous free city of Night City looking for a way to flee the country as well as a place to provide him sanctuary. Nameless, faceless, untraceable. The very skills and abilities the NUSA gave him are now the only thing keeping him from a bullet in the head. When pressures in the city gets high chances are you’ll find him with the Aldecaldos, or rather you won’t find him, but he’ll be there. The strange man without a name who proved his loyalty to the clan and the pack, came to them in desperation for their help, one survivor to another, and continues to protect them in return whenever he could with his unnaturally adept skills with a rifle, watching over them like a guardian angel. Closer to the city he’s constructed a concealed base of operations and hiding place within the trash mountains of the Municipal Landfill, blending perfectly into the surrounding landscape, completely invisible to anyone who doesn’t know where to look. His time not spent on planning an escape or riding with the Aldecaldos are used scavenging for valuable cyberware he could sell to shady rippers that didn’t ask questions, or occasionally bounty hunting in the city for some quick cash. 

Masterlist:

[7-deadly-cats]

fuck valentine's day

♡ G E N R E ♡ one shot, angst but happy ending, no explicit smut

M A S T E R L I S T | T A G L I S T F O R M

♡ P A I R I N G ♡ taken!s4!rafe cameron x fem!bsf!reader

♡ C O N T E N T W A R N I N G ♡ strong language, angst but happy ending, suggestive language, major argument, mention of substance abuse (alcohol and coke), emotional distress, toxic relationship (not with you tho hihihi) and manipulation, brief mention of physical violence (just a punch), mildly suggestive scenes and hint of intimacy but no explicit smut, my reccomendation: 16+

♡ S U M M A R Y ♡ After the death of Ward Cameron, Rafe starts to reclaim his life, becoming more grounded and family-oriented. However, his close friendship with you slowly crumbles after Sabrina, his seemingly perfect girlfriend, enters the picture. You, grappling with suppressed feelings for Rafe, try to step back, but Sabrina's manipulative nature causes tensions to rise. On a stormy Valentine’s Day, a broken-down car leads to an unexpected confrontation between Rafe and you where emotions spill over. As truths are revealed, your complicated relationship takes an intense and transformative turn, forcing both to confront what you truly mean to each other.

♡ W O R D C O U N T ♡ 8.3k

♡ A / N ♡ this is the most i've ever written in ONE day (yes i spent the whole valentine's day writing this lmao) and i put my whole soul into it, and i know it's LONG but i promise i tried my best to make it work. so anyway happy very late valentine's day to everyone, hope you enjoy this little one shot <3 maybe it's a little cheesy, cringe and cliche (especially at the end) but i guess that's what this day is about. and i really enjoyed writing it hihhi + would love to hear your thoughts on this one (would mean a lot)

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

Ward Cameron’s death was, in your eyes, the best thing that could’ve ever happened to Rafe. He was finally free from the toxic relationship with his father. Free from years of manipulation, being pushed around, and constant disregard.

Of course, it hadn’t happened overnight. The first step had been taken long before Ward’s death, back when he fell into a coma and Rafe was suddenly thrust into the role of being the man of the house. It was during that time Rafe realized the family and their business could function without Ward Cameron at the helm.

Ward’s death was simply the final key that unlocked Rafe’s cage. And as he let go of his father, he also let go of a significant part of his old life.

He became more grounded, business-minded, and above all, family-oriented. He kept talking about fixing things with Sarah and pulling Wheezie away from Rose’s grip.

Rafe Cameron genuinely wanted to become a better man.

Watching him finally blossom as a person was so incredibly beautiful to witness. And yet, it shattered your heart into a thousand pieces knowing you weren’t the one standing by his side as it happened.

Sure, you had been there for him during his darkest, most destructive moments. You had stayed by his side when he said and did things that were nearly impossible to take back. He had hurt people close to him—you included—and yet, you had never left.

Deep down, you knew that underneath all the frustration and rage was a broken boy who just craved love and recognition. And no one had ever given him the chance to show that part of himself.

That’s exactly why you'd never dared to confess your feelings to him. He deserved love but there had never been a time when he was truly ready for a serious relationship.

Telling him about your feelings, purely out of selfishness, would’ve led to one of two outcomes: either an unstable relationship where he clung to the idea of being loved without genuinely loving you back, or the deterioration of your friendship due to his fear of commitment.

So, you suppressed your thoughts, feelings, and the love you held for him. You preferred to love him from afar as your best friend rather than risk dragging him into a formless relationship during his unstable state.

Tragically, that mindset became deeply ingrained in your brain. Even after Ward’s death, when Rafe visibly began to change for the better and showed clear signs of looking for something serious, you stayed silent. Not out of fear of losing him but out of sheer stubbornness, waiting for the “right moment.”

And that hesitation cost you your chance: another girl got there first and won Rafe’s heart.

Sabrina Anderson—he met her at a charity gala. She was stunningly beautiful, wealthy, had an excellent academic background, and everything about her screamed “old money.” She was the picture-perfect Kook girlfriend.

Everything Rafe thought he wanted in a woman.

And, for fuck’s sake, it felt like the universe was punishing you for your patience. Normally, you would’ve accompanied Rafe to his important events as his support but this one time, this one fucking time, you had canceled because you’d promised Topper you’d help him move into his stupid new place (yeah, he had finally gotten his act together and left his toxic family’s home). And like the idiot you were, you completely forgot the gala was happening that day.

“Shit, I’m so sorry. You know I usually write this stuff down in my calendar but I must’ve missed it somehow,” you said the night before the gala while helping him pick the perfect outfit.

Rafe just waved it off with a cheeky grin as he unbuttoned his shirt. “I’ll survive one evening without your bad jokes and complaining about the tiny dessert portions.”

“They are tiny portions. I think they’re expecting a bunch of kids as guests,” you retorted, your eyes flickering briefly to his sun-kissed, bare chest. You quickly averted your gaze and handed him a new shirt. “I think this one works better. Next time, I’ll be there—promise. Even if Topper’s new place is on fire.”

Rafe nodded, amused, as he slipped on the new shirt. “That’s not even unlikely with his mom around. That woman’s straight-up on ‘psycho mom marries son’ type shit.”

A laugh escaped your lips. “Don’t say that—next thing you know, it’ll be on TLC or some other trash TV channel.”

And so, you spent the rest of the evening together.

Rafe tried on a few more suits, all of which looked amazing on him (and in every single one of them, you wanted to rip the clothes right off him, though you'd never say that out loud).

You baked a pizza together, watched some movies in his bed, and every time you showed him one of your dumb, brain-rotting reels, he rolled his eyes—but every so often, he sent you one of his own because, deep down, he probably loved how much they made you laugh.

At some point, you fell asleep in his bed, and Rafe brought you an extra blanket. The next morning, he drove you home and wished you luck at Topper’s move.

Had you known that would be the last night the two of you could act like that, you would’ve told him everything.

But how could you have known that the next night, a new girl would enter his life? How could you have known that Sabrina Anderson would sweep him off his feet in a way you never could? And how could you have predicted that she would endanger your entire friendship so deeply that within a few months, you and Rafe were little more than acquaintances?

At first, everything seemed fine. Rafe told you about the gala, about Sabrina, and about how perfect she was. Of course, it broke your heart, but the way he spoke about her helped heal it again because he was genuinely smitten with her.

They started texting, going on dates, and Rafe did things for her he’d never done for anyone else. He bought her the most beautiful flowers, spoiled her with the most expensive jewelry, and gave everything to be a good boyfriend.

And so, their relationship grew more serious, and eventually, he introduced her to you, Topper, and Kelce at a party at Tannyhill.

That’s when everything went downhill.

Topper and Kelce obviously thought she was hot, of course—those idiots were just guys, after all. They couldn’t see past her perfectly shaped breasts and the cute ass hidden under a stylish dress.

But for you, alarm bells were ringing. Something about Sabrina just felt... off. Sure, she was incredibly sweet and nice but whenever she looked at you, there was something darker lurking beneath her gaze.

You dismissed it immediately, assuming you were just biased because of your own feelings for Rafe. A part of you simply couldn’t accept that another woman was making him happy.

Besides, you were still his best friend. You’d been through thick and thin together, and nothing could tear the two of you apart. Not even a girlfriend.

Sure, Sabrina would be part of everything from now on but the chemistry between you and Rafe... that was something special, and even an idiot could see it.

So it wasn’t entirely surprising when Sabrina cornered you in the kitchen later that night, a sweet smile plastered on her face. “Oh, hey, Y/N. Needed a little breather too?”

You were pouring yourself another drink, and even though she gave you a weird feeling, you smiled back at her. “Yeah, when Kelce DJs, it tends to get loud.”

Sabrina nodded in agreement but the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “True. Rafe seems to have some... interesting friends.”

The way she said it, while looking directly at you, should’ve been enough for you to go straight to Rafe and tell him something about Sabrina wasn’t right. But you just shrugged as you added vodka to your cup. “Kelce’s a bit weird but he’s cool once you get to know him. And Topper’s always reliable when it counts.”

“And you?” Her innocent look didn’t match her tone.

You raised your eyebrows slightly. “What about me?”

“When Rafe mentioned he had a girl best friend, I didn’t think that...” She paused, tilting her head with a bemused smile. “Well, you know, that she was his ex.”

What the fuck?

Your eyebrows shot up, and you shook your head in confusion. “I’m not his ex. Where did you get that from?”

Sabrina let out a soft giggle, as if your reaction had been overly dramatic. “You don’t have to get so defensive. I just thought, well, you two seem so close, and the way you look at him... it’s only natural I’d have a few concerns, right?”

You shook your head again, though you couldn’t stop the faint blush creeping across your cheeks. “We’re just friends, Sabrina. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“So... just to be clear, you two never had anything going on? You know, slept with each other or something?” She still wore that fake innocent smile.

What a bitch.

“No, of course not,” you replied dryly. “It’s always been purely platonic between me and Rafe.”

Sabrina let out a relieved sigh. “Oh, that’s a relief. Then I guess you’re basically like a little sister to him.”

Whatever that was supposed to mean. You shrugged. “I guess."

This time, Sabrina’s gaze darkened, though her facade still didn’t slip. “Good. I mean, I’d just like to think siblings behave a little more... appropriately.”

You only smiled in response but in that moment, the first brick of a massive wall between you and Rafe had been laid.

Because deep down, as much as it ate at you, Sabrina was right. It had never been an issue before if you shared a bed with him, wore his clothes, kissed him during one of Kelce’s stupid Truth or Dare games, or hung on him like a lovesick monkey when you got too drunk.

You had been both single and the flirty banter between you had always been just that—a few dumb words or gestures, nothing more.

But now Rafe had a girlfriend. He was taken. And all those things were no longer okay. And even though he was your best friend and hadn’t yet drawn those boundaries for the sake of his new relationship, you did.

At first, it was a slow process. Movie nights turned into movie afternoons, and instead of laying in his bed, you suggested the couch because it was cozier… right? And even though he still preferred you as his plus one for events, you started declining, insisting Sabrina would probably appreciate it more. Wouldn’t she, Rafe?

You also pulled away from hugs quicker than before, drank less at parties to avoid doing anything dumb around him, and when it came to games like Never Have I Ever or Truth or Dare, you became a mere spectator. What used to be teasing touches were reduced to the bare minimum.

Your friendship began to waver and Sabrina kept Rafe so busy—dragging him from one date to another, satisfying him in ways you could only dream of—that he barely noticed how far the two of you had drifted apart.

Of course, the others around you weren’t stupid. Topper and Kelce immediately noticed the strange new tension between you and Rafe. Even fucking Ruthie, Topper’s girlfriend—and the two of you were definitely not on good terms—pulled you aside one evening.

However, you knew she didn’t do it out of concern for you. No, Ruthie felt threatened by Sabrina’s presence just as much as you did.

“Are you seriously going to let her walk all over you?” she asked, cornering you outside the bathroom at a beach party. “That bitch is a manipulative snake.”

God, you wanted to agree, to vent to Ruthie about how much Sabrina pissed you off. But for Rafe’s sake, you bit back the words and said instead, “If you want, I can let him know how you feel. I’m sure he’ll love to hear it.”

Ruthie, unimpressed, just smiled. “Oh, please. When’s the last time you two even talked alone?”

That stung because it was true.

Three months into his relationship with Sabrina, she’d already built a thick wall between you and Rafe. These days, you only saw each other at parties or when the group hung out—and even then, getting a private moment with him was rare. Sabrina clung to him like a shadow, always watching, always there. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d done something together, just the two of you. He barely seemed to have time for anyone else anymore, not even you.

And that was the problem. Rafe was so terrified of letting this chance at a “perfect” future with someone slip away that he clung to Sabrina just as tightly as she clung to him. Because even though Ward Cameron was no longer alive, one thing had stuck with Rafe: the idea of family.

That was what Ward had valued above all else, and Rafe thought he’d finally found that dream with Sabrina Anderson.

And even though it tore you apart, even though it cost you sleepless, tear-filled nights, you couldn’t bring yourself to talk to him about it. It was so incredibly wrong and cowardly, especially because you KNEW what kind of person Sabrina was. You KNEW that, eventually, her controlling nature would probably drive a wedge between Rafe and the rest of the group—Topper, Kelce, everyone. But in that moment, he seemed happy.

And you couldn’t be the one to take that happiness away from him, even if it meant losing him in the process.

It was unbelievably stupid, and deep down, you knew he deserved better. But the real problem wasn’t Sabrina—it was you.

No matter who stood at Rafe’s side, any girl would have reacted the same way Sabrina did. Maybe they wouldn’t have been as cunning about it, but no girl would have been okay with the bond you shared with Rafe. Some might’ve confronted him directly, others might’ve gone after you like Sabrina had, and some would’ve just given up and broken things off immediately.

And Rafe had realized that too, in his own way. The connection between you and him... it wasn’t a normal “best friends” kind of thing. You were probably the most important person in his life—until Sabrina showed up. But Rafe had been too blind, too scared, to admit it to himself.

Or worse, to admit it to you.

Because the truth was, Rafe had feelings for you. He wasn’t stupid—how could he not have fallen for you? You’d stood by him during his darkest moments, even when he confessed to you about killing Peterkin. Hell, you would’ve followed him to Barbados if he hadn’t insisted you stay behind, where you’d be safe.

But Rafe also knew how messed up he was. He knew there was something deeply wrong with him. He was loud, impulsive, and reckless. At his worst, he’d nearly been willing to kill Sarah and his own father.

Rafe Cameron was a deeply unstable wreck and the last thing he wanted was to drag you down with him.

You deserved someone better. Someone kind and loving, someone who didn’t have anger issues or a fucked-up mind like his. Someone who knew their limits and respected others’.

God, how many times had he sat next to you at parties, with you drunk or high, leaning against him, your big, tired eyes looking up at him like he was the only person in the world that mattered? It had taken every ounce of self-control not to press his lips to yours right then and there, to carry you upstairs to his bed and forget about the party downstairs.

And the worst part? The thought of all the times you’d actually fallen asleep next to him in his bed. How badly he’d wanted you then—to kiss you, to love you, to feel you. Not in the way he'd done with random hookups in the past. God, no. What he felt for you ran so much deeper, more primal, than that. It was like hunger, like thirst. He didn’t just want you. He needed you—every piece of you, your whole being.

So, as time passed and you remained distant, Rafe Cameron broke under the weight of the wall between you.

But while you hid away in your room, drowning yourself in movies, shows, mindless phone games, loud music, and lonely nights, Rafe fell back into old habits.

Not all at once, but slowly—quietly—in a way that would destroy him eventually. More empty whiskey bottles started showing up around the house. The occasional bag of coke appeared in his drawers again. And when he came home from parties with Sabrina, it was rarely without a bruise or a bloody nose.

And when he fucked her afterward, it wasn’t out of love. It was out of frustration and anger—anger at himself for losing you. And every time a soft moan left Sabrina’s lips, it wasn’t her he thought of.

It was you.

Of course, you heard about all of this—not because you were there to witness his behavior (you avoided any place Rafe might show up these days) but through Topper and Kelce. They’d call or text you constantly, begging you to make up with Rafe. Because it wasn’t just you they were losing from the group—it was him too.

One night, Rafe even punched Topper, giving him a bloody nose, after Topper had the guts to bring up the whole situation. It wasn’t the complaints about Sabrina that set Rafe off—no, it was when your beautiful name had left Topper's lips.

Because Topper was right: Rafe had screwed it all up.

But he was too angry, too broken, to believe he could ever fix things with you.

Of course, he was Rafe Cameron. If Sabrina actually broke up with him, he’d just find someone else—at least, that’s what he had told himself for a while. But whether it was out of habit, some deeper fear, or simply the thought of losing someone again, he couldn’t deny it: he didn’t want to lose her. So, when Sabrina made it clear she was serious this time, he tried to do better.

Especially because deep down, Rafe wasn’t sure if he had the energy—or the patience—to let someone new get that close again.

No, he couldn’t let her go. He wouldn’t.

And what better day to secure her forever than Valentine’s Day?

Rafe wasn’t exactly a romantic but for this occasion, he had it all planned out: He’d take Sabrina out, spoil her with whatever she wanted, treat her like royalty. Dinner at the most expensive, exclusive restaurant, a private balcony lit by candlelight. Then, when they got back to Tannyhill, he’d carry her inside, through a house decorated with rose petals, scented candles, and heart-shaped balloons.

He’d take her to their shared bedroom, hold her close, and tell her how much he loved her—that he couldn’t imagine his life without her. And then, he’d drop to one knee, pull out the most extravagant, glamorous ring she could dream of, and ask her to marry him. He figured she’d probably say yes. After all, despite everything, she knew Rafe would do anything to keep her, and being a Cameron opened doors that her own name couldn’t.

And later, as he bent her over in the rose-adorned bed, he’d remind her how perfect she was. Though in truth, he’d be convincing himself that losing you had at least brought him this.

But, as if the universe was punishing him for his past and future mistakes, the weather had other plans. A torrential downpour hit the island, complete with strong winds and relentless rain. Leaving the house was impossible—any attempt would’ve ended in getting drenched or worse, an accident.

So, Rafe had no choice but to scrap his grand plans and stay at Tannyhill with Sabrina. Unfortunately, he’d already teased her days in advance about the “special surprises” he had in store.

In short: Sabrina wasn’t happy. She was upset about the weather, frustrated that Rafe’s plans had fallen through, and irritated with him by association.

It took everything Rafe had to hold his temper and avoid a full-blown argument. But he was determined not to screw this up. He cooked for her, gave her massages, played the music she liked, and later that evening, he drew her a luxurious bath to unwind.

That seemed to calm her, at least a little.

So, while Rafe stayed inside, trying to salvage the day, you were spending your Valentine’s with your grandmother. (It wasn’t like you had a date anyway, so why celebrate it?) She lived about an hour outside the Outer Banks, and you’d spent the day catching up with her, enjoying the quiet.

But as someone who rarely paid attention to her phone nowadays and definitely didn’t check the weather, you had no idea about the storm brewing in the area.

It wasn’t until you started your drive home that you realized just how bad it was. The rain came down in sheets, so thick it was nearly impossible to see more than a few feet ahead. The roads were slippery, the wind was howling, and you found yourself gripping the wheel tighter than ever.

“Okay,” you told yourself, “just go slow. Better to get home late than not at all.”

That was the plan, anyway—until your dad’s expensive Bentley decided to give up on you in the middle of an empty back road. No houses nearby, no streetlights, and definitely no one around to help.

You sighed, muttering a curse under your breath. Okay, it’s fine. Probably just a fluke. You tried turning the key in the ignition again. Then again. And again. Nothing.

Alright, not so fine.

Panic began creeping in but you forced yourself to stay calm. You couldn’t fix the car, and stepping out in this weather wasn’t an option. Your only choice was to call someone for help.

Your grandmother was already asleep by now and you didn’t want to worry her. Your parents were out of town for the weekend, so they were off the table, too. That left Kelce and Topper.

You tried Topper first but he sent you straight to voicemail. You were pretty sure Ruthie had something to do with that. Kelce picked up but the loud music and slurred tone on the other end told you he was having way too much fun at some club to be of any use.

“Great,” you muttered under your breath.

You scrolled through your contacts but nobody else seemed like a good option. Sure, you had other friends from your years at high school but who would actually drive half an hour in this weather on Valentine's Day just to pick you up?

Your thumb hovered over Rafe’s name. Your chest tightened.

The Rafe you used to know would’ve come for you in a heartbeat—rain, wind, storm, volcano, it wouldn’t have mattered. He would’ve been there, no questions asked. But now? You hadn’t spoken to him in weeks, and you weren’t even sure if he still had your number saved.

Besides, you didn’t want to ruin his Valentine’s with Sabrina. Topper had mentioned things were rocky between them for a while but apparently, Rafe had gotten things back on track.

So, that left… what? Spending the night in the car and hoping Kelce or Topper would sober up enough to rescue you in the morning? Not exactly ideal.

You glanced around nervously. You didn’t know this area well and the heavy rain pounding against the roof wasn’t helping your growing unease. It was dark, the only light coming from your phone which was now dangerously low on battery.

Great, you thought, sinking back into the seat. Just perfect.

Yeah, fuck, you were scared.

You bit the inside of your cheeks, your fingers hovering over Rafe's number. He probably wouldn’t even pick up—most likely cuddled up with Sabrina on the couch.

He’s not going to answer anyway, you thought to yourself, swallowing the lump of guilt forming in your throat. Then, you hit call.

Not even two rings later, he answered. “Y/N?” His voice sounded confused but also alert.

A lump formed in your throat at the sound of his familiar voice and only then did you realize how much you’d hoped he would actually answer.

“Rafe…” Your voice was quiet, slightly shaky, given the situation you were in. “I... I’m so sorry to bother you. I know it’s Valentine’s Day, and I wouldn’t be calling if it wasn’t—”

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” His tone shifted immediately, sharper now, filled with concern.

“Yes! No! I mean… no,” you stammered, struggling to get the words out. “I was just at my grandma’s, and my dad’s Bentley broke down. I already tried calling Kelce and Topper, but—”

“Where are you?” he interrupted, and your heart clenched.

“Rafe, you don’t have to—I just thought maybe—”

“Y/N.” His voice was firm now, leaving no room for argument. “Send me your location. I’ll come get you.”

You hesitated, then muttered, “I really don’t want to ruin your Valentine’s Day.”

“Fuck Valentine’s Day,” Rafe said, frustration in his voice but also unmistakable concern. “Send me your location, and tomorrow morning I’ll beat the shit out of Kelce and Topper for not answering.”

Despite the tension of the situation, despite the fear and guilt gnawing at you, a laugh escaped your lips. For a moment, you paused, then sent him your live location.

“I’ll be there soon. Stay in the car, lock the doors, and don’t open up for anyone,” he instructed.

You barely managed to thank him before he hung up. And despite the guilt weighing heavy on you, an immense wave of relief washed over you.

Rafe was in his closet, pulling out two jackets and a hoodie, when Sabrina walked out of the bathroom, her cheeks flushed pink from the steam and a towel barely wrapped around her, exposing her still-damp legs.

She frowned. “What are you doing?”

“I’m picking up Y/N,” he said, slipping on one of the jackets. “Her car broke down in the middle of nowhere.”

A flush of red rose to Sabrina’s pretty face, her brow furrowing deeply. “And she called you?”

Rafe shrugged, sitting down on the edge of the bed to pull on his boots. “No one else picked up. I’ll be back in an hour—”

“Are you serious, Rafe?” Her voice sharpened, rising in pitch. “It’s Valentine’s Day. You’re driving out in this weather for HER, but you couldn’t even take me to dinner in town?”

Rafe grimaced, but his voice remained calm. “Like I said, I’ll be back soon. Don’t make this into a big deal.”

Sabrina scoffed, crossing her arms. “A big deal? You think I am the one being dramatic? Y/N is a grown woman. She knows we’re spending this evening together, and she still called you?”

"She called because she needs help, not because she’s trying to ruin your night or some shit," Rafe said, his tone making it clear she was being ridiculous. Still, he didn’t want to push her any further. He ran a hand over his face and sighed. “Look, baby—”

But Sabrina just shook her head in irritation. “My night? What’s that supposed to mean?! This is our night, Rafe. And now you’re ditching our night for her?!” She stepped closer, her voice rising. “I’ve always known she was a threat to our relationship.”

“A threat?” Rafe raised his brows in disbelief as he stood. “Come on, Sabrina, that’s insane. Just drop this bullshit.”

Her face flushed a deep, angry red. “I—excuse me? Do you even hear yourself right now? She hasn’t called you in weeks, Rafe. Weeks. And the second she does, you’re running off like some pathetic, lovesick puppy? It’s so embarrassing. For you, and for me.”

It took everything Rafe had to keep from completely losing it. Her words hit a nerve, and deep down, he knew she wasn’t entirely wrong. You had pulled away from him—hell, both of you had.

His blood was boiling, but all he could think about was you, sitting alone in that damn car in this awful weather.

Rafe took a step toward her, towering over her. Maybe he could control his words but he couldn't control his voice, now loud and frustrated. “Tell me then, what the fuck do you want me to do, huh?! Leave her stranded out there all by herself?”

Sabrina nodded as if it was the most obvious answer in the world. “She’ll figure it out, it’s just one night and—”

“Okay, that’s enough.” His voice was dangerously calm now. “Pack your things and get the fuck out of my house.”

For a moment, Sabrina stared at him, stunned. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” Rafe said, his gaze cold and full of suppressed disdain. “Get dressed and leave.”

She let out an incredulous laugh. “Are you kidding me? You’re being crazy, you—”

“If you’re not out the door in five minutes, I’ll make sure to throw you out myself.”

Sabrina blinked, her face twisting in disbelief. “You can’t just kick me out. It’s pouring outside, Rafe—it’s Valentine’s Day!”

Unbothered, Rafe shrugged, mimicking her earlier words. “You’re a grown woman. You’ll figure it out.”

And as the leech that called herself Sabrina Anderson finally disappeared from Tannyhill, Rafe climbed into his SUV and took off.

His chest felt tight, his mind racing, yet at the same time, he felt an overwhelming sense of relief. You were the only thing on his mind right now. He didn’t even try to put into words the heavy, suffocating feeling that lingered.

He’d messed up again—this time with Sabrina. But there was no regret, no sadness, nothing. If anything, it felt good to finally be rid of her. It wasn’t until halfway through the drive that he realized how much of a blind idiot he’d been. On some subconscious level, he’d been waiting for a moment like this, a reason to cut her out of his life.

For the first time in months, he could breathe freely, without her breathing down his neck. And as the last few months replayed in his mind, it hit him—she’d been a parasite, manipulating him, controlling him, molding him to fit her needs. Maybe he’d known all along but he hadn’t wanted to admit it.

Breaking free from her was almost as hard as breaking free from his father. And, apart from Topper—who’d earned himself a punch to the face—no one had called him out. No one had tried to wake him up.

Not even you.

He shook off the thoughts as he spotted the silhouette of a dark car up ahead. His heart sank, thinking about how you must be feeling—completely alone on that pitch-black road.

Pulling up behind the Bentley, he grabbed the umbrella and jacket he’d thrown onto the passenger seat and stepped out into the pouring rain.

The umbrella didn’t do much—his jeans were soaked through almost immediately. But he didn’t care. He knocked on your car door, and the look of relief on your face when you unlocked and opened it almost made his chest ache.

Then he noticed the redness in your eyes and a heavy feeling settled in his stomach. “You okay? Here, take the jacket.”

Shivering, you hesitated but took it anyway, the relief coursing through your body almost enough to keep you warm.

“Rafe…” you started as you stepped under his umbrella but he shook his head.

“Don’t,” he said, his hand resting gently on your back. “Let’s get you out of this weather.”

His touch sent a shiver down your spine but you didn’t argue. You hurried with him to his SUV and he opened the door for you, waiting to make sure you were inside before tossing the umbrella into the backseat and climbing in himself.

For a moment, the only sound was the pounding rain against the roof. Rafe gestured to the hoodie on the dashboard. “Put that on—you’re just in shorts.”

Still, you hesitated. It felt wrong somehow. The familiar scent of his car—of him—was already too much.

“Jesus Christ, Y/N.” He grabbed the hoodie and draped it over your bare knees. “Stop being so stubborn.”

You didn’t know what to think or say. Rafe had come out here for you in this weather, left Sabrina behind, and… while you were endlessly grateful, you couldn’t shake the guilt.

As he started the car and pulled back onto the road, the guilt churned in your chest again. “Rafe, I’m really sorry. If I’d known it was raining like this, I would’ve stayed at my grandma’s, I—”

“Drop it,” Rafe cut in, his eyes fixed on the road. “You needed help, and I came. That’s all there is to it.”

You glanced at him, noting the tension in his jaw, the way his profile seemed sharper in the dim light. Hesitantly, you asked, “And Sabrina… how mad is she?”

It surprised you that she hadn’t insisted on coming along.

“She’s gone,” he said, still staring straight ahead.

Your heart sank to your stomach. “Gone? I… what do you mean, gone?”

“I threw her out.” His tone was blunt, almost defiant. He finally looked at you, his expression a mix of frustration and exhaustion.

For a moment, you didn’t know what to say. “What—why? What happened? Is it because I called? I—”

“Because she’s a fucking bitch,” Rafe cut in flatly. He dragged a hand down his face before turning back to you, his tone softening as he caught the shock in your eyes. “I should’ve done it a long time ago. I just… I was too blinded by all her fake bullshit.”

Your fingers clenched into the fabric of his hoodie on your lap, your thoughts spiraling. “Rafe, I’m really—”

“No, Y/N,” he interrupted again, his brows pulling together. “I swear to God, if you say you’re sorry one more time, I’ll throw you out too.” There wasn’t an ounce of seriousness in his voice, though. He sighed heavily, the frustration evident. “It’s all just… so fucked. Everything about this. It pisses me off. I really thought she was the one, and I was so blind to all her flaws.” He let out a bitter laugh. “Jesus, Y/N, why didn’t you say something?”

You blinked, taken aback. “What?”

“Don’t ‘what’ me,” he shot back, the frustration he’d been holding back now bubbling to the surface. “It’s obvious she came between us. I was too stupid—fuck, I was too into her to see it. But you…” His voice faltered, and he seemed to collect himself. “You’re not stupid. You’re always the first one to spot red flags in people. Hell, even Topper eventually figured it out.” He shook his head, clearly frustrated. “I don’t get it. Why didn’t you say anything? Why did you let her play her stupid little games?”

You couldn’t tell if he was angry at you, Sabrina, himself, the situation, or all of it combined. “I…” But what could you say without revealing too much? “I thought she made you happy and I didn’t want to be the one to ruin that. I didn’t think it would turn out like this.”

“Bullshit.” The sharpness in his tone made you flinch. “You were my best friend. You’ve never had a problem speaking your mind when something bothered you. And now you’re telling me you let that bitch silence you?”

There it was—you were his best friend. Hearing it from his mouth shattered something deep inside you that you thought was already broken.

“That bitch, Rafe,” you snapped, a sharp edge creeping into your own voice, “was your girlfriend, just so you know. So, yeah, fine, I’ll admit it—when you first introduced her, every alarm bell in my head went off. Is that what you want to hear? I knew, and I didn’t do a damn thing about it. Boo-fucking-hoo. But you know what? You let it happen just as much as I did.”

And in that moment, you realized just how angry you were at Rafe. Sure, he’d been infatuated but was that really an excuse? He was just as much to blame as you were for all of this.

Rafe scoffed bitterly as he turned onto the main road leading into Figure 8. “I don’t get it. Did she say something to you? Is that why you pulled away? Shit, did she have something on you? Nudes or some shit like that?”

“What? No!” You stared at him, equal parts exhausted and horrified. You were cold, hungry, and overwhelmed by a storm of emotions boiling beneath the surface. You didn’t even know where to start. “Let's drop this, I'm tired. Please just take me home.”

But when he drove past your street without even slowing down, you frowned at him in disbelief. “What--”

“We’re talking this out,” he said flatly, eyes fixed on the road ahead. “If I drop you off now, nothing’s gonna change, and I’m so done with this shit.”

You opened your mouth to argue but when his tired, frustrated eyes met yours, the words caught in your throat. “Afterward, I’ll drive you home, and you can sulk in peace if you want,” he added, his tone softer but firm.

You stayed silent and turned your gaze out the window. You knew him well enough to realize there was no point in arguing. When Rafe set his mind on something, there was no swaying him.

By the time the SUV pulled up to Tannyhill, the storm had mostly passed, though the occasional raindrop still pattered against the windshield. The two of you climbed out in silence. Despite the light drizzle, Rafe grabbed the umbrella from the backseat and opened it over you both as he walked you to the house.

The door clicked open with a soft push and Rafe let you step inside first. As the door shut behind you and the warm glow of the entryway light filled the space, you were suddenly hit by an overwhelming, almost suffocating sense of unease.

The walls were lined with red heart-shaped balloons. The faint scent of roses lingered in the air, mingled with something sweeter you couldn’t quite place. Blown-out candles dotted every available surface, and the staircase was covered in a delicate carpet of red rose petals leading to the next floor.

It was… perfect.

Your stomach twisted as you took it all in, the earlier argument momentarily forgotten. Still staring at the carefully arranged display, you spoke softly. “You did all this for her?”

Rafe let out a bitter laugh. “Shit, I was even gonna propose to her tonight.”

Your heart stopped. A proposal? He’d been that serious about Sabrina? You felt like throwing up. This was all too much to take in.

“I’m glad you called,” he said after a moment, his voice softer this time, carrying an edge of something almost vulnerable.

You pressed your lips together and turned around.

Now, under the bright light, you could finally see just how much this relationship had drained him. The dark circles under his eyes, the pallor of his skin, the way his cheekbones stood out more sharply than they should—it all painted a picture of someone who had given too much and gotten nothing in return.

And then the dam broke. All the emotions you’d suppressed over the past few months—the frustration, the sadness, the guilt, and the fear—boiled down into the rawest form of emotion: anger.

“She’s a stupid fucking whore,” was all you managed to get out.

Rafe raised an amused eyebrow, caught off guard by your reaction. “What?”

You shook your head, struggling to put your swirling thoughts into words. “She’s a stupid, arrogant, deceitful, manipulative bitch who doesn't deserve you. I mean, seriously, she ruined this,” you gestured between the two of you, “us. She tore us apart. You were my best friend, Rafe. There were times when we’d spend an entire week together, just the two of us, rotting in bed and sending Kelce and Topper stupid snaps, and then she came along, and… and everything changed overnight.”

Your brows furrowed deeply. “She’s such a disgusting person—no, scratch that—a creature. A monster. On the very first night I met her, she came up to me, and she had the nerve to question my relationship with you. Like, she thought our friendship was too intimate or some bullshit like that. And I don’t know, I guess it got to me. What if she was right? I didn’t want to be the problem. I didn’t want to be a threat to your relationship with her. So, I backed off.”

You groaned, frustration evident in your voice. “God, I could just rip my hair out. I should’ve said something. To her, and especially to you! But I was so afraid that I was wrong about her. That I was blinded by my…” Feelings. You stopped yourself, the word stuck in your throat. “By my worry for you. I mean, at first, it seemed like she was good for you, so I stayed quiet. But by then, the damage was done and…” Your voice softened, almost like a question. “At some point, I thought, maybe if it was so easy to build a wall between us, then maybe our friendship was doomed to fail anyway.”

And there it was. You’d said everything you’d bottled up, and yet, there was still so much left unsaid. But you were exhausted, done with all of this, your chest rising and falling as you struggled to catch your breath.

Rafe stared at you, his expression unreadable—was he stunned, irritated, frustrated? You couldn’t tell.

Finally, after a moment of seemingly endless silence, he spoke. “Shit, this bitch has been right all along.”

His words hit you like a lightning strike. Before you could ask him what he meant, Rafe closed the distance between you and his hands cupped your face as he pressed his lips to yours as if they were the only place he ever belonged.

Frozen, overwhelmed, and confused, you stood still as a thousand questions and emotions surged through you. But in that moment, you pushed them all aside and sank into it. Your fingers clung to his shirt, afraid to let go.

His kiss was raw, desperate, hungry as if you were the only thing that could satisfy the emotions he’d been holding back. Rafe’s hands slid to your waist, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss. Every pent-up feeling from the past few weeks poured out through the way his lips moved against yours.

And god, you felt so good. Your soft lips on his, the warmth of your body pressed against his. Shit. Even though he’d had Sabrina beneath him night after night, fucking her mindlessly, in this moment, he felt so endlessly touch-starved.

Not for the empty satisfaction of release, no.

For you.

When he finally pulled back, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting together as you tried to steady yourselves.

Your lips were swollen from the kiss, and you were too scared and stunned to say anything, afraid that speaking would shatter the moment.

“I’m such a fucking idiot,” Rafe finally said, his thumb tracing soft circles on your cheek, his voice low and raw. “It’s you. It’s always been you, Y/N. Fuck, it wouldn’t have mattered if it was Sabrina or any other brain-dead girl. If you called, I would’ve come running every single time. And I almost lost you because of all her bullshit." He sighed, lowering his eyes for a second, trying to grapple his words. "I think, somewhere in my head, I convinced myself I wasn’t good enough for you. That you deserved better. So I went for girls like Sabrina. Girls who are... Shit, I don’t know, polished and perfect on the outside but completely empty on the inside. The kind of girl I thought I was supposed to be with.

“But she’s not perfect." He scoffed. "Holy shit, not even close. She’s pretentious and selfish, and she made me feel like I had to change just to fit into her world. But you?” He let out a nervous laugh, meeting your eyes again, and there was a vulnerability in his tone that you’d never heard before. “You’ve never wanted me to change. You’ve always let me be ... me—even when I’m a complete fucking idiot. You’re the only person who’s ever made me feel like I’m not too much. Like I don’t have to prove anything.”

For a moment, his words hung in the air, sinking in. Your brain needed a second to fully process everything he’d just said.

His blue eyes bore into your soul as if he were anxiously waiting for your approval as if the way you returned his kiss hadn’t been answer enough. As if your next reaction would determine his entire life.

And then you laughed, a sweet and soft sound escaping your lips, cheeks burning, still hyper-aware of the feel of his lips on yours. Overwhelmed, exhausted, and struggling to find the right words, you let your instincts take over. Your hands softly found his cheeks, pulling him back to your lips.

Rafe didn’t hesitate. He took it as an invitation, wrapping his arms around you completely. His hands slid from your waist down to your hips, then lower. When he lifted you effortlessly, your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, your hands finding his neck.

This time, the kiss was slower, deeper—like both of you were trying to savor every second, afraid this moment might slip away the very next.

He pressed you gently against the wall, and the cold surface sent a shiver down your spine.

Your body's reaction made him smile into the kiss before pulling back slightly, his forehead resting against yours. “This isn’t exactly the most comfortable spot, huh?”

A soft laugh escaped you. And with that sweet little sound, the last stubborn traces of tension melted away. The days, weeks, months—all those nights spent alone in your bed, frustrated and hurt by this whole... fucked-up, messed-up situation.

And hell, you didn’t have, shit no, you didn’t want to waste a single ounce of energy or thought on that time anymore. So all you said was "Please, I’m used to your lumpy mattress.”

“Yeah?” His eyes sparkled with playful mischief and his hands gave your butt a teasing squeeze. “Well, so far, all you’ve done is sleep in it.”

Heat rushed to your face, and before you could say anything, he adjusted his grip on you, holding you like he was afraid you might slip away. Your heart was racing, tumbling over itself in your chest, as he carried you upstairs, his arms steady but his pace a little too eager, a little too desperate, like he’d been waiting for this just as long as you had.

When he reached the top, he nudged the door open with his foot, and it felt like the rest of the world disappeared. No noise, no distractions, just you and him, in the quiet of his room, where nothing else mattered.

He set you down gently, his hands lingering on your waist like he couldn’t bring himself to let go. His lips found yours again—not rushed, not frantic, but slow and deliberate, like he was making up for every second you’d been apart.

You felt the weight of it all in every kiss—the weeks, months, maybe even years of feelings neither of you had dared to name. His hands moved over you like he was memorizing you, tracing your body in a way that was equal parts hesitant and hungry, like he didn’t want to scare you but couldn’t hold back anymore.

Your fingers softly moved over his buzzed hair, pulling him closer, and he let out a low, almost broken sound against your lips that sent a shiver through you. His breath was warm as his kisses trailed down your neck, and it was overwhelming but in the best way possible.

That night, the room was filled with quiet laughter and soft murmurs, the sound of his name slipping from your lips like it was meant to. Rafe's touch was gentle but sure, every movement unspoken proof of just how much he'd missed you. The hours blurred together, and for once, nothing else mattered—just the two of you, tangled up and lost in each other like this was where you were always supposed to be.

And even though all of it—the candles, the balloons, the rose petals, a ring that never found its finger—had been meant for a manipulative bitch called Sabrina Anderson, she was already forgotten in both of your heads.

Erased by this moment. By you.

Because, like Valentine’s Days, she had always been all surface: Pretty words, empty gestures, and nothing real beneath it.

And if you both were being honest, this cheesy day was overrated anyway. Like Rafe had said: Fuck Valentine’s Day.

And sometimes, fuck the person you end up confessing your love to at the end of it. Even–and maybe especially–if they were your former best friend.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

M A S T E R L I S T | T A G L I S T F O R M

[ladyfocalors]

The Prefect's Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Rulebook

summary: After yet another rule violation by Grim, Riddle hands you a comprehensive guide to Heartslabyul’s regulations expecting you to finally learn and teach Grim. Instead, you retaliate by writing your own unofficial rulebook about Riddle himself, filled with exaggerated (but surprisingly accurate) observations. He inevitably gets his hands on the book. Riddle is left flustered and scandalized, especially with the last rule.

pairing: riddle rosehearts x gn!reader

warning: secondhand embarrassment experience.

word count: 2.4k

i had so much fun writing this. probably one of my favourite fics i have written. it's fun to write about my beloved riddle <3

It all started with a tart. Or rather, the lack of one.

You and Grim stood in the lounge, both of you equal parts guilty and unapologetic. Well, you were mostly guilty by association, considering it was Grim who had eaten one of Trey’s tarts without permission, but in Riddle’s eyes, you were both responsible.

"Grim," you sighed, standing before Riddle Rosehearts with his face red, arms crossed, eyes burning with irritation. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

Grim, hiding behind you, peeked out from behind your legs, ears twitching. "I regret nothing," he declared. "That tart was mine!"

"It most certainly was not!" Riddle snapped, his voice sharp. "That was my tart, specifically prepared for me. And not only did you eat it, but you also violated Rule #89 ‘Never eat a tart without the Queen's permission’, and Rule #27 ‘Do not break into the dormitory kitchens after hours’ and Rule #53–"

Grim huffed. "Ya make it sound worse than it is."

"You ate the Housewarden’s tart in front of him and ran to me," you muttered, reminding him of his crime. You were surprised that Grim hadn't been collared yet.

"A mistake anyone could make," Grim said stubbornly.

"A mistake that you made," you deadpanned.

Riddle inhaled deeply, clearly exercising a lot of restraint to not collar Grim. Then, he presented you with a book, quite a massive book.

"This," he declared, "is the Heartslabyul Rulebook."

You took it, nearly dropping it due to its weight. No dorm rulebook should be this heavy, you thought. "This thing could kill a man."

Grim peeked at it over your shoulder and immediately recoiled. "Ugh! Words! Too many words!"

"That is exactly the issue," Riddle snapped at him. "You do not read the rules, and as a result, you break them." Riddle then turned to you, his face no longer red. "As the Ramshackle Prefect, I expect you to look after your dorm members. Therefore, I expect you to read this book in its entirety and teach Grim to behave himself in my dorm."

You blinked at him. This seemed hardly fair. Why did you have to be punished?

You opened the book to have a look.

Rule #1: Always respect the Queen’s Decrees.

You promptly closed it.

"Yeah, I’m not doing that," you said.

Riddle frowned.

At first, you did try to read the rulebook, but between all your other work, assignments, and the endless errands you had to run, it simply wasn’t feasible. Not to mention how utterly ridiculous some of the rules were.

So instead of reading his rulebook, you wrote your own. For fun.

Grim was pleased with the outcome.

It had started as a joke, something to vent your many grievances about the amount of rules in Heartslabyul, but you quickly realized something: your rulebook wasn’t about Heartslabyul.

It was about Riddle, which Grim had helpfully pointed out.

"Myahaha! Look at this one! ‘Rule #23 – Riddle can and will recite the rules you broke.’ That one's good! Let me add some too!"

And so, The Prefect’s Unofficial Guide to Riddle Rosehearts was born.

The Prefect’s Unofficial Guide to Riddle Rosehearts

(Compiled by the Ramshackle Prefect, with essential additions and doodles from Grim. Rules may be ignored at your own risk. Side effects include but are not limited to: exasperation, lectures, punishments, and possible collaring.)

Rule #1 – Anything is legal when Riddle has his back turned. (Grim wrote this.)

Rule #2 – Riddle will scold you for running in the halls, even if you are running to avoid being late for a meeting with him. (It was a no-win situation. You’d be scolded for being late or scolded for running. There was no escape.)

Rule #3 – Riddle has a ‘stern nod’ and a ‘very stern nod.’ Learn to tell the difference. (One means ‘I am disappointed in you.’ The other means ‘You will be collared in five seconds.’)

Rule #5 – If Riddle goes silent mid-sentence, he is either (a) so angry he can’t speak, or (b) realizing you have a point but refuses to admit it.

Rule #12 – If you see Trey baking tarts, congratulations! You are in the presence of Heartslabyul’s unofficial MVP. Do not let Riddle (or anyone) see you sneaking one.

Rule #18 – If you notice Riddle's face is turning red, you have exactly three seconds to mentally prepare for whatever comes next.

Rule #23 – Riddle can and will recite the rules you broke.

Rule #28 – If you compliment Riddle out of nowhere, he will malfunction like a broken automaton. (Highly effective distraction technique.)

Rule #31 – If Ace says, 'Housewarden Riddle will never know,' Housewarden Riddle will absolutely find out.

Bonus Section:

Rule #31.1 – If Ace says, 'I have a great idea,' walk away. It is neither 'great' nor 'an idea.'

Rule #31.2 – If you try to hide something from Ace, he will immediately become interested.

Rule #34 – Riddle pretends not to have a sense of humour, but he does. (It’s just deeply buried under layers of responsibility and rule enforcement.)

Rule #38 – Trey has a 70% success rate of calming Riddle down. (Cater has a 50% success rate. Ace and Deuce have a -500% success rate.)

Rule #41 – Riddle secretly likes animals, but will deny this if accused. (He takes good care of the hedgehogs and adores them.)

Rule #53 – If Riddle ever finds out I like him, I am done for.

You weren’t sure why you wrote that last one. It was a joke. Mostly. (It felt easier to admit on paper rather than to say it. It was most definitely not a joke.)

The rulebook remained a harmless source of entertainment between you and Grim. You had your fun, and Grim even doodled in a few pictures of angry Riddle before resorting to drawing himself.

It should have remained a private joke. It really should have. But, of course, nothing involving Grim remained a secret for long.

It was another ordinary evening in Heartslabyul, where you had reluctantly agreed to a study session with Ace and Deuce. The plan was simple: Ace and Deuce would attempt to get their grades up, you would try to prevent them from slacking while trying to study as well, and Grim would… probably not study.

Riddle had allowed you all to use one of the study rooms, though not without a warning about ‘proper conduct.’

You had meant to be careful, really. You had every intention of keeping your very unofficial, very embarrassing rulebook far away from prying eyes. You just hoped nobody looked through your stack of books, among which laid your rulebook you had accidentally brought. Unfortunately, for you, Grim had other plans.

Grim huffed, then pawed through the stack of books on the table. "There’s too many words in here! I wanna read something fun."

"You’ll think studying is fun when you see your test scores improve," Deuce said, diligently copying notes and actually putting in an effort.

"Nyah! Where’s our rulebook? I wanna add another one about Riddle’s scary angry face!"

You immediately froze and, like a shark smelling blood in water, Ace perked up.

"Rulebook?" he echoed. "Wait, wait, wait. Is it another one of Riddle’s? Man, you’re actually reading that thing?"

Deuce actually looked impressed. "That’s really responsible of you, Prefect."

"It’s not the Heartslabyul Rulebook," Grim piped up, completely missing the way you were silently willing him to stop talking. "It’s hench-human’s rulebook! The one ‘bout Riddle!"

A beat of silence.

Then, with alarming speed, Ace lunged for your stack of books before you could even stop him. (Rule #31.2 was being displayed right in front of you.)

"HEY–"

"Hold on, hold on," Ace said, flipping the thin book open. "This is– ooohhh. You wrote an entire guide to our Housewarden? With rules?" He barked out a laugh. "Rule #1: Anything is legal when Riddle has his back turned."

You snatched for the book, but Ace twisted out of reach.

"It was a joke! Give it back!"

Deuce, peeking over Ace’s shoulder, frowned. "I don’t know if this is a good idea–"

"‘Rule #31: If Ace says, Housewarden Riddle will never know, Housewarden Riddle will absolutely find out.’" Ace read. "Hey, what the hell! That’s slander!"

"It’s true!" you snapped.

Ace ignored you, flipping further. "‘Rule #38: Trey has a 70% success rate of calming Riddle down. Cater has a 50% success rate. Ace and Deuce have a -500% success rate.’"

Deuce looked offended. "Hey, why is mine also negative?"

Ace grinned. "Because you’re the one who keeps making it worse by apologizing wrong and getting us caught."

"I– wait. I do not!"

"Stop arguing and give it back–"

"Prefect, Ace, Deuce," came the voice of Riddle Rosehearts from the now open door.

A terrible, horrible, no good, very bad silence followed.

The three of you went completely still, and Grim decided he would hide behind you.

This was the worst possible outcome ever. In Ace's hand was your silly book, in plain sight, and there stood Riddle in the doorway with his brows furrowed. Riddle’s eyes flicked to the book in Ace’s hands. Ace immediately noticed and hid it behind his back, but it was far too late.

"Ace," Riddle said, stepping forward. "What are you hiding?"

"Uh… nothing?" Ace tried, clearly lying.

"Nothing," Riddle repeated flatly. His gaze sharpened. "Ace Trappola, hand it over. Now."

Ace, being Ace, grinned as if he could still salvage the situation. "C’mon, Housewarden. Maybe this is one of those things you're better off not seeing–"

"If you don't hand me the book, it's off with your head!"

Ace immediately caved, sighing. "Alright, alright. Here." He handed over the book, and you had never felt such levels of anxiety in your life. Not even facing overblots made you feel the level of panic you felt now (that was an exaggeration but, still).

Riddle took it, immediately glancing at the cover. Then he flipped open the first page. Then the second. Then the third.

You watched, frozen in place, as Riddle continued reading, his expression shifting between scandalized and exasperated.

Then he was at the last page. You could tell the exact moment he read the 53rd Rule. His face went from normal to red in an instant.

Oh no.

You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment and then opened to meet Riddle's blue-gray ones.

“I see,” Riddle said, his voice carefully even but his face red. "Is this true?"

You considered your options.

Lie. (Too late, he’s already read it.)

Run. (Where? He knows where you live.)

Pray. (The Great Seven can’t save you now.)

You picked option 4. Deflection.

"You were not supposed to read it," you said, your voice steadier than you felt.

"So I gathered," he muttered. He looked at you then glanced at the audience.

"Ace, Deuce and Grim," he said. "I expect a 2000 worded essay about the need of study ettiquette and rules."

Ace groaned. "Aw, c’mon, Housewarden–"

"2500 words," Riddle amended, not even hesitating.

Deuce sighed but nodded, already resigned to his fate. Grim, however, let out a dramatic wail. "But I didn't even do anything!"

"Then you may explain, in 2500 words, why you are a menace to the dorms."

Grim gasped. "Wha– ME?!"

"Now leave," Riddle said, and Ace wasted no time grabbing Grim and Deuce by the collars, dragging them toward the door.

"Good luck, Prefect," Ace called, grinning like a traitor before the door shut behind them.

And then, silence.

You were alone with Riddle. You could hear the pages of the rulebook crinkling slightly under his grip. He wasn’t saying anything. Oh no.

Riddle took a deep breath, and exhaled. His face was still tinged red, and you had no idea if that was a good sign or if you were about to be executed on the spot.

"Why," he finally said, "did you write this?"

You hesitated, rubbing the back of your neck. "It was just a joke. Grim and I wrote it for fun."

"Fun," Riddle echoed, a slight twitch in his brow. "So, you thought it would be fun to create an entire guide about me?"

"When you say it like that, it sounds weird."

"It is weird!"

You winced. Was it Rule #18 red or Rule #5 red? Either way, this was not looking good for you.

(Back in your world, you used to laugh when your friends talked about the embarrassing things they did and noticed about their crushes. You thought it was ridiculous. Now the tables have turned and you feel like you want to throw up.)

"Look," you said, shifting uncomfortably, "I didn’t mean for you to see it. I mean, it’s not like you don’t do all those things–"

Riddle inhaled sharply. "That’s not the point!"

There was another terrible pause. You could feel your soul slowly trying to escape your body.

Then, he huffed, closing the book with a thunk against his palm. "So," he said, eyes locking onto you, "Rule number 53."

Your stomach flipped in a very bad way.

"That one was a joke," you blurted out.

He raised an eyebrow. "Was it?"

You swallowed. "Mostly?"

His lips pressed into a thin line. "Mostly," he repeated. He tapped his fingers against the book, thoughtful. "I find it strange, Prefect. You wrote a rather detailed guide about me, yet you conveniently included that rule."

You remain silent.

"I am asking again. Is it true?"

You opened your mouth. Shut it. Opened it again.

"...Yes."

Riddle stared at the floor. His fingers curled slightly. You silently braced yourself for the rejection. All you had to do was not cry and act as level headed as you could.

Then, after a long pause, he muttered, "I think I should make my own rulebook."

You blinked. "Huh?"

He looked up, red-faced, but determined.

"Rule #1 : If the Prefect likes me, they are not done for."

You felt your face burn. Embarrassment rising up again.

"Rule #2," he continued, flustered, "If the Prefect insists on writing about me, they should expect me to read it and respond accordingly."

You could feel yourself sweat. "Riddle–"

"And Rule #3–"

He hesitated, then turned away, mumbling, "...They should expect me to like them back."

Your heart soared and you almost cried in relief.

Riddle sighed, covering his face. "This is the worst rulebook ever."

But there was a small, shy smile peeking through his embarrassment.

© ladyfocalors