#part two chapter twenty four

[s4sharkteeth]

I’ll think of a better caption eventually idk

PREVIOUS

NEXT

[whytheylosttheirminds]

home for the holidays (part two) - r.c.

❄️ a frat!rafe cameron holiday mini series ❄️ (part one here!)

summary a simple favor for a friend ends with you reluctantly bringing Rafe Cameron, resident campus fuckboy, home for the holidays. It’s gonna take more than a little mistletoe for him to win you over…

content “enemies” to lovers, copious amounts of flirting, eventual smut, a dash of familial angst, parental illness and mentions of parental death, 18+ mdni

(taglist for this series is closed. please see author's notes at the end of the chapter for important info about the taglist!)

Somewhere between his house and yours it dawned on Rafe, much to his annoyance, that he had a big, stupid crush on you.

He tried everything to suppress it. He reminded himself that you didn't like him, that you probably thought you were better than him. He reminded himself how stupid it’d be to get attached to someone only a few months before graduation. 

Jesus, really man? He thought. She’s not your type, Rafe. She hates you. Be a fucking man and pull it together.

But it was the way you were perched in the driver’s seat, scooted all the way forward leaving no room between you and the wheel, smiling as you sang along to Mariah Carey. You looked so soft and cute, the sleeves of his hoodie slipping over your hands as they clutched the steering wheel.

Fuck, he definitely had a crush on you, and he hated having a crush. There was way too much room for rejection. This was one area in which he’d never really grown up, so he opted for his usual defense mechanism - pushing your buttons, like he was ten years old on the playground, pulling your pigtail just to get a reaction.

“So was I right about you not having many hookups in college?” He blurted out sometime during the third play of All I Want for Christmas is You.

Your head snapped toward him, complete confusion and not even a smidge of amusement on your face.

“What the fuck?” You grumbled. “That’s kinda personal, actually…”

“I’m just saying, I’ve never seen you at parties, and you don’t seem to have a boyfriend. Four years is a long time…”

“Everything is about sex with you, huh? Some of us are actually in college to learn,” you scolded him. It was his intention to push you away, and yet the repulsion in your voice still stung.

“Alright, I’ll stop asking,” he conceded.

“Good,” you huffed, shoulders slumping a little.

He looked over at you every so often, determined to find a flaw, some blemish or ick that he could use as a dealbreaker. This plan backfired terribly, his eyes only discovering more pretty features and cute little mannerisms that made his stomach leap every time he looked at you. He felt like a moth, brainless and hopelessly drawn to the warm light of a lamp that was sure to zap him dead at the slightest touch.

After twenty minutes of freezing him out for his “no hookups” comment, you gasped and excitedly pointed out the first of many road signs for your hometown, your annoyance with him replaced with excitement as the signs advertised you were getting closer and closer to home. 

Then you finally gave him something to resent you for. After a remark about how excited you were to see your family, you looked over at him with big, kind eyes, nervously broaching the topic with a light touch on his arm, “I’m sorry about your family leaving you behind. That totally sucks.”

There was a softness in your tone that was so warm and inviting it made him want to jump out of the moving car. He knew he was fucked up for being mad that you were being nice, but he couldn’t help it, the tenderness in your gaze made him feel like a wounded puppy, and he hated your pity.

He pulled his arm away from your gentle fingers like they’d hurt him.

“I’m fine,” he snapped. “They didn’t leave me, it was just a miscommunication.”

You withdrew in more ways than one, pulling your hand back and falling awkwardly silent. Rafe kicked himself mentally, of course just when you’d started to come around to him, he pushed you away. Little did those girls in your dorm know, that was the true Rafe Cameron special.

“So, uh, you were saying something about presents for your brothers? How old are they?” He asked, praying he hadn’t made you shut down for good, trying to re-stoke the fires of the friendship you had been building since you offered for him to come home with you.

You were chewing on your nails, picking at the dead skin nervously. At his prompting you started to speak again, though a bit less enthusiastically than before he’d shut you down.

“Uhm, well,” you sat up a little. “There’s Luke, he’s sixteen. And then Reese is thirteen and Bennett is ten.”

“Fun ages,” he nodded, wincing at his cliché words.

“They are fun,” you nodded, a smile returning to your lips at the thought of your little brothers. The sight of you smiling again soothed the ache in his chest and he leaned back into his seat, full of relief.

“Luke is such a teenage boy, too cool for everything. I got him some Nike cleats because he plays football, he’ll pretend he doesn’t like them but I think he’ll wear them. And Reese is quieter, he’s always been a bit more sensitive. He wants to be a photographer, so I got him a vintage Polaroid camera. Benny was the easiest to shop for,” you smiled at the thought of your baby brother, Rafe could tell you had a special love for him. “I got him one of those giant gummy bears that comes in its own plastic case. It cost a fraction of what I spent on the other two but I guarantee you he’ll be the most excited.”

“I’m sure they’ll all like what you got them,” he assured you.

“They better, they cost me a whole paycheck,” you huffed, thinking of all the hours you’d worked slinging drinks at your college’s go-to student bar to pay for the presents that were currently sitting in your trunk.

“It’s better than what I got my sisters,” he reminded you with a laugh.

“Hey! I spent six whole dollars on those souvenirs!” You scolded him, smiling at the memory of the crappy little knick-knacks in the backseat.

“And I’m sure they’ll love them,” he agreed.

“What about your sisters? How old are they?” You asked.

Surely, you were just being polite, keeping the conversation going after he’d asked about your brothers. But he wanted nothing less than to talk about his family right now, the thought of them all hanging out at the Bahama house, completely forgetting that he existed, still stung fresh. He wondered if Sarah and Wheezie even asked his dad where he was, why he wasn’t on the plane. Maybe they were relieved to celebrate the holiday without him annoying them, he probably deserved it. 

“Hey, isn’t that your exit?” He pointed at the highway sign, advertising that the off ramp to your hometown was only half-a-mile away, trying to distract you from your question.

“Yes!” It worked, you sat up in your seat, excitedly pressing a little harder on the gas as you celebrated the proximity to home.

“Woah, slow down, I’d like to celebrate Christmas alive,” he joked as the needle on the speedometer climbed higher and higher.

“Oh shit sorry,” you giggled, pulling your foot back to slow down a little. “I’m just excited. It’s gonna be so cozy. My dad will have put a bunch of colored lights all over the front of the house, and the tree will be up, probably a fire going and Christmas music playing. I can’t wait to see them!”

His jealousy was almost debilitating. What must it be like to feel this excited to go home? To know what was waiting for you was going to bring you so much joy? He wanted what you had so badly, he was tempted to reach out and touch you just to see if he could absorb your happiness by osmosis.

The little town you called home was just as small as Rafe was picturing, if not more. Though, the tiny houses lining the main street were decked to the nines with Christmas decorations, so much merriment in such a tiny little hamlet. The further into the country you drove, green street signs giving way to rickety, hand-painted ones, the more he felt like he understood you.

You smiled at all the lights, body absolutely buzzing with each turn that brought you towards home. Finally, you turned on a long dirt road, past a field of horses Rafe recognized as the farm you said you grew up next to. Approaching a mailbox with your last name on it, your smile fell from your lips, eyebrows creasing as you turned onto the property.

At the end of the long driveway was a small little split level home Rafe surmised to be yours, only where he expected a display of twinkling christmas decor, there was only one single flickering porch light. If he hadn’t known better, he’d assume the family who lived here didn’t celebrate Christmas at all.

“What the hell?” You mumbled under your breath, concern on your face growing as you pulled the car up and parked behind an old, rusting mini-van. 

Arms full of presents, Rafe helping with your bags, you stumbled anxiously through the front door. The inside of your house was just as disappointing as the outside. It was messy, dishes on the counter and the echo of obnoxious video games ringing through the halls where there should be the familiar chatter of your family having dinner.

“Hello?” You called out, setting the presents down on the kitchen table. You peaked your head over the island, into the open space of the living room. In the far corner, where there should’ve been a Christmas tree, there was a pile of unfolded laundry. 

Two messy headed boys peered over the back of the couch, the third head not moving from its fixation on the TV as his fingers continued to click away on his controller.

“Gigs!!” The smallest one, who Rafe assumed to be Bennett, shouted, he and the second smallest, who he identified as Reese, rose from the couch and made their way towards you.

“Gigs?” Rafe repeated under his breath.

“As in Giggles. It’s my childhood nickname,” you explained, and when you saw his teasing smirk added, “shut up.”

Reese and Bennett nearly tackled you, colliding into you with little bear hugs. Reese was nearing your height, though not quite there yet, and Bennett was small but stocky, his chubby arms squeezing the air from your lungs.

“Rice and beans!” You sang affectionately as you returned their hugs, messing up their hair and pinching their cheeks. You looked to Rafe to answer the question you could see already forming on his lips, “rice and beans, as in Reese and Bennett, their nicknames.”

He smiled at your affectionate embrace with your brothers, nodding with a little, “ah.” Something in him ached, like a haunted limb, a muscle he didn’t even have that was sore from lack of use.

After several moments, Bennett pulled away, eyeing Rafe and pointing a stubby little finger right at him, “who’s he?”

Reese covered his brother’s finger, forcing his hand down correctively.

“Benny, that’s rude,” you said, unable to suppress the little chuckle at your brother’s boyish indifference.

In your concern over the state of the house, you hadn’t planned out how to explain Rafe to your brothers. ‘He’s a friend’ wasn’t totally accurate, but it was the only language they’d understand. Before you could open your mouth to explain anything, though, your youngest brother blurted out, “are you Giggy’s boyfriend?”

“Bennett Alan,” you snipped at him through gritted teeth, giving him a motherly glare as you used his full name in warning. “You’re being rude, and he is not my boyfriend.”

This was true, though Rafe wasn’t sure there was any need for the tinge of disgust in the way you said it. He could sense Bennett formulating another pot-stirring question and jumped in before he had the chance.

“I’m Rafe,” he set his bag down next to the counter and held out a hand. 

Bennett puffed out his chest, putting on his best adult voice as he shook Rafe’s hand, “I’m Bennett, my friends call me Benny.”

You and Reese gave each other knowing smirks, sharing eye rolls over your brother’s precocious antics. 

“And which should I call you?” Rafe played along with his all-business tone.

“Depends, how much money you got?”

Rafe smirked, but you were mortified. “Oh my god, Beans! You can’t ask people that. Here, make yourself useful and put these presents under the tree.”

“We don’t have one,” Reese told you, the first words Rafe had heard him speak, and by his quiet tone and the way he avoided eye contact he understood why you’d called him the sensitive one.

Rafe caught the way you allowed worry to flash across your face for only a second before you smoothed your features back into faux nonchalance, like you were putting on a show for the kids.

“Oh okay, well then I guess we’ll just leave them on the table,” you shrugged, as if you hadn’t been raving about your family’s grand Christmas trees just minutes ago.

Your eyes drifted back to the living room, where your remaining brother still hadn’t risen to greet you.

“Lukey? Help me with my bags?” 

The shaggy haired boy finally turned, eyeing Rafe with a cold distrust that felt like looking in a mirror.

“Looks like he’s already got ‘em,” he grumbled.

You gave him an authoritative glare that had much less playfulness than the one you’d given Bennett.

“Where are mom and dad?” You asked Reese in a hushed tone, shielding the question from Bennett, who was busy dragging a chair over from the kitchen table.

“It’s Thursday,” Reese responded, giving you a knowing look like you should know what that meant. When you clearly didn’t, he added, “chemo day,” in a whisper so quiet Rafe could barely hear it. “Mom’s been asleep since they got back and dad had to work the evening shift.”

Rafe did hear though, and your eyes flicked to him quickly with a vulnerability he hadn’t seen from you yet, like he somehow had something to hold over your head now. He wanted to say the exact right thing to put you at ease, to let you know your family’s business was safe with him. As he was formulating the words, Benny was climbing up on the chair he’d dragged over, standing directly between you and Rafe.

“How tall are you?” Benny asked Rafe once he could meet his eyeline.

“Uhm,” Rafe cleared his throat, pulled from the moment, “I’m 6 '2.”

“I’m 4 foot 1 and three quarters,” Benny explained, as though if this were a competition, he was just a few points behind Rafe, and gaining.

“Nice! 4 '1 is very respectable,” Rafe smiled, deciding it was best to be on Benny’s good side.

“And three quarters,” Benny corrected through gritted teeth.

“Right, sorry, and three quarters,” Rafe put his hands up in defense.

Benny crossed his arms and gave Rafe a once over, as if he was the man of the house deciding if he was allowed to stay. 

Sensing your brother was about to say some other rude thing to embarass you, you stepped in, “Benny why don’t you go show our guest where we keep the air mattress,” you grabbed him off the chair and lowered him to the ground with some difficulty, “and be nice,” you added in his ear.

Benny obeyed but gave Rafe narrow, suspicious eyes the whole way down the hall.

“There’s like a thirty percent chance Benny tries to fight him,” Reese noted as the two of you watched them go.

You chuckled, settling on the couch between your two brothers.

“So who is he really?” Luke asked, still not pausing his video game but at least acknowledging your existence. 

“He’s just a guy from school,” you shrugged. “He’s Brody’s friend.”

“Is Brody here?” Reese asked hopefully. You and Brody had been friends your whole childhoods, and your brother’s were always big fans.

“No, he had an internship or something, but I’d already told Rafe I’d give him a ride, and when we got to his house his family was just, like, gone,” you explained. “They went on a trip and didn’t even tell him.”

“Yikes,” Luke said. “That’s shitty.”

“Language,” you scolded, making him roll his eyes. “But yes, it is shitty,” you added, making him smirk. 

“He’s like Kevin from Home Alone,” Reese quipped. All three of you laughed.

“Honestly? It was kind of exactly like that, only sadder. Like a lost puppy. I mean, who just forgets their kid?” You lowered your voice a bit, hoping it wouldn’t carry down the hall. “I felt so awkward I didn’t know what to do so I said he could come here.”

Your brothers seemed satisfied with your explanation. Even though nothing you said was technically untrue, you still felt like you were somehow being dishonest. You’d never admit it, but it wasn’t all out of pity, there was some small part of you that wanted to bring Rafe home, that was intrigued by him and wanted to see more. But there was no way to explain that to two teenage boys, so you settled for the Home Alone excuse.

Benny came back around the corner, leaping onto the couch and nearly knocking over Luke’s soda.

“Beans, chill,” Luke groaned as he narrowly caught his Mountain Dew before it spilled all over the coffee table.

“Where’s Rafe?” You asked Benny, looking around to see if he’d followed your brother back out.

“He said to tell you he’s going to bed, he seemed kinda grumpy,” Benny shrugged, stealing Luke’s soda when he wasn’t paying attention and taking a swig.

“Oh,” you said, trying to hide the hint of disappointment in your voice. “Okay.”

Down the hall, Rafe snuck quietly into the laundry room as the fading voices of you and your brothers were drowned out by the sound of the water heater, which sat in the cramped space right next to the air mattress Benny had helped him set up.

Your voice echoed in his head, ‘I felt so awkward I didn’t know what to do.’ 

So it was a pity invite. You saw him as some sad character from a 90s movie, not an actual companion you wanted to spend the holiday with. 

He settled on the uncomfortable inflatable mattress. He was in a house full of people, and yet he was beginning to think he might actually feel less lonely all by himself in Tannyhill.

Up before the sun, out the door before breakfast’s done; that’s the way your dad had been your whole life, working a string of manual labor, blue collar jobs that meant he was usually gone before you woke up.

This morning however, you were determined to talk to him before he left, to confront him about the complete lack of Christmas you’d found at your homecoming. You set your alarm at an ungodly hour so you could wait for him to come down the stairs.

Hunched over the counter by the brewing coffee pot, you ran your hands over your face. Your holiday homecoming was nothing like you imagined, the biggest surprise of all being the person you came home with, but you’d figure out how to broach that subject later.

“Hi Gigs.” Your dad’s footsteps were so quiet, you hadn’t heard him enter the kitchen. When you turned to meet him, he flashed you a tired grin.

He’d gotten home after you went to sleep last night, this was the first you’d seen him since your anticlimactic arrival. He looked more exhausted than you ever remembered seeing him. Even more tired than after Bennett was born and he had colic for six months.

“Hi dad,” you approached and gave him a hug before returning to the coffee pot to pour some for him in a travel mug.

“Couldn’t sleep?” He asked.

“A lot on my mind,” you said, turning to face him. “Made you some coffee. If you stay and talk to me I might just be persuaded to make you breakfast.”

Your dad slumped into a chair at the kitchen table, pulling on and lacing up his heavy work boots.

“No time for breakfast,” he waved you off. “You know that.”

“Dad, what’s going on?” You asked, knowing your window to get answers was closing quickly.

But he didn’t answer, he just sighed heavily and shook his head, avoiding your gaze.

“Just not a breakfast guy that’s all,” he joked. You knew he knew that’s not what you meant.

“You didn’t even hang any lights,” you mumbled softly, feeling a bit childish. “And there’s no tree.”

Your dad sighed again. You wondered if there was a record for how many times someone could sigh in one conversation.

“I’ve been working double shifts, there just hasn’t been time. I’m sorry,” he shrugged. “It’s been a long year, kid.”

“Why didn’t you tell me it’s gotten so bad? I would’ve come back sooner,” you said, pulling a side eye from him that you read as: and that’s exactly why I didn’t tell you.

“I don’t know, why didn’t you tell me about the frat boy in the laundry room?” He countered.

‘Oh, right,” you blushed, feeling like when you were twelve and he found you hiding a stray cat in the garage. “Was gonna mention him but, you know, you were working.”

“Could’ve told me you were bringing your boyfriend home,” he scolded you.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you rushed to explain. “He’s Brody’s friend. He needed a place to crash.”

“Ah, Brody’s friend. That makes me feel so much better,” he rolled his eyes. 

Your dad was never a fan of Brody, too much of a ‘knucklehead’ as he called him. You knew Rafe wouldn’t fare much better in your dad’s good graces, no guy you liked ever did. Not that you liked Rafe. Fuck, your blush was getting deeper. You quickly looked down at your feet, hoping your dad wouldn’t notice. 

Luckily, he was too tired to read your facial expressions, he huffed as he rose from his chair and approached you, digging in his pocket for some cash. “Here, grab a tree and some gifts for the boys -”

“You haven’t even gotten them gifts yet?” You sighed.

“I know, I know,” he nodded, his baggy, tired eyes begging you for a little slack. You’d never seen him look so tired, sympathy overpowering your disappointment. “I’m trying here, gigs.”

“I got it,” you gave him a small, dutiful smile and pocketed the cash.

“I knew you would,” he gave you a side hug and accepted the travel mug of coffee you handed him. “I’m sorry things aren’t exactly what you expected. but I am glad you’re home.”

As he slipped out the front door into the chilly dusk, your mind spiraled. You knew your mom was having a rough patch with her breast cancer, but you had no idea it’d gotten this bad. No Christmas was simply not an option, maybe things would never go back to normal for you, or your parents, but that was adulthood wasn’t it? Your brothers shouldn’t have to grow up just yet, and you’d make sure they didn’t.

Everything felt wrong, off kilter in a way that made your stomach twist with the familiar anxiety that comes with any situation you can’t control. So you did what you always do when things feel uncertain; you made a list.

Pulling a notebook from the kitchen junk drawer, you uncapped a pen and quickly scribbled everything you could think of that needed to be done:

Decorations 

⇢ box in garage? lights working?

Presents for the boys 

⇢ wishlists? budget??

Buy and decorate tree 

 ⇢ Douglas Fir? tree lots still open?

Under each item you scribbled all the steps you could think of, as well as any conflicts you might hit along the way. Maybe if you could just work the problem, you could fix this, save Christmas and by extension, your family.

You eyed the empty checkboxes next to each item with worry. If you were going to pull all of this off in just two days, you’d need to call in some reinforcements. 

The door to the laundry room squeaks if you open it slowly, which you did deliberately, milking it for all the disruptive sound it’s worth. Rafe was sprawled out on the air mattress, which had deflated just a bit in his sleep, making his legs stick up in the air a little higher than his upper body. 

He was snoring away, just like he had in the car, your noisy opening of the door not doing what you’d hoped it would. 

You sighed loudly, he didn’t stir. You cleared your throat, still nothing. You coughed theatrically, he was still out cold.

Finally, you opened the lid to the washing machine, taking off one sock and dropping it in, letting the heavy metal lid slam closed as you started a rinse cycle. At the crash, Rafe shot up, nearly falling off the air mattress.

“Oh good, you’re up!” You chirped, as if you hadn’t caused the sudden awakening.

“What the hell are you doing?” He grumbled at you, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His hair stuck up at all angles and he squinted, barely able to open his eyes in his exhaustion. You gave yourself one second to think about how cute he looked before redirecting your focus to the reason you were in here.

“Just doing some laundry,” you told him as he reached around in the dimly lit room for his phone. “But since you’re awake...”

“What time is it?” He slurred, still half asleep.

“I dunno probably like 9,” you shrugged, knowing full well that wasn’t the case.

“I can’t find my phone,” he sunk back into the mattress, making like he was going to go back to sleep. That wouldn’t do.

“Oh, here!” You flicked on the fluorescent overhead light, making him wince and pull the covers over his head.

“Gah! Turn them off please!” He cried out, voice muffled from under the blankets.

“It’s time to get up, we have a big day ahead of us,” you walked over to the mattress, kicking it to jostle him around on the half-inflated plastic.

“I’m on vacation,” he protested. 

“Yes, exactly, Christmas vacation,” you walked around to the end of the bed, grabbing the covers in two hands and pulling them from his body, making him groan and curl up in the cold air like a rolly polly bug. “We have Christmas things to do.”

You tried not to notice the sculpted arms revealed by his grey tank top, and you really tried not to notice how the thin material of his flannel pajama pants was leaving very little to the imagination. He looked up after a moment, blinking his eyes open to catch you staring, his lips twisting in a cocky grin. He opened his mouth to say something smug and flirtatious, but before he could, his eyes caught the clock on the wall behind you.

“It’s 6am?!” He yelled.

“Oh is it?” You laughed, no longer trying to hide your scheme. “My bad, 6s and 9s look the same to me.”

Swiftly, Rafe stretched out his long leg, hooking his foot behind your knee and pulling you toward him, sweeping you off your feet and onto the mattress. A sharp “oof!” left your lips and as you crashed down onto what little air was left in the mattress to catch you. Landing hard, you immediately slid towards him, your body settling square on top of his.

“You wanna talk some more about 6s and 9s?” He grinned at you, his morning voice low and raspy in a way that sent goosebumps rushing up your spine.

“Ugh, you’re a pig!” You smacked him on the shoulder, pins and needles lingering in your hand where your skin had met his, and tried to push yourself up.

Wobbling on the plastic mattress, your attempts to get off of him only had you wriggling further down until your face was hovering over his. This was the closest you had ever been to him, suddenly noticing just how blue his eyes were. The glow of them under the fluorescents actually knocked the wind out of you, freezing your body in place over him as you took them in, feeling like you might drown in them if you stared too long, but letting the waves pull you under anyway.

“Morning,” he lips curved into a smile that was so handsome it almost made you forget your mission.

Grasping at your reason for coming in here like it was a lifeboat, you decided to use the compromising position you had him in to your advantage, leaning a little closer as you said, “I need you.”

Rafe’s eyebrows shot up in shock, was this really about to happen, right here in your parent’s laundry room?

“Oh yeah?” He flirted, muscles tensing in anticipation beneath you. “What do you need, hmm?”

“Just say yes and I’ll tell you,” you purposefully dropped your voice lower, adding a tinge of suggestion to your words to really bring it home.

“Anything,” he agreed, his mind five miles ahead of you in the wrong direction.

You sat up, straddling him, and pulled the list of tasks from your pocket.

“Great, get dressed, we’re leaving in five,” you smiled down at him, relishing the completely baffled look on his face. “We’re gonna save Christmas.”

“No, we don’t have time to stop, we gotta stick to the list,” you protested as Rafe turned the car off the road and pulled into a drive thru.

After tricking him into agreeing to help you, you’d rushed him through getting ready and out of the house, convinced the stores would be packed as soon as they opened. He dragged his feet the whole way, but somehow you’d managed to wrangle him into the car, insisting he drive so you could look through some catalogs to map out gifts for your brothers.

“If I have to be up at the asscrack of dawn, I’m getting coffee,” he shot you down.

“Okay, fine, but if we get there and all the good deals are gone, I’m blaming you,” you conceded.

You tapped your knee anxiously as the line of cars in the drive thru crawled like a herd of snails. Rafe watched your fingers strum out of the corner of his eye, noticing for the first time the way your nails were bitten down to the beds. He wasn’t paying much attention, but he was fairly sure they weren’t that messed up yesterday.

“What do you want to order?” He asked, unsure why but suddenly only caring about finding a way to distract you.

Without needing to look at the menu, you recited, “venti blonde americano with two extra shots of espresso and a splash, like a really small splash, of oat milk. Actually no oatmilk. And four shots.”

Rafe blinked back at you, your fidgety fingers lifted to your lips as you chewed on your cuticles.

Pulling up to the speaker, he leaned in and said, “yeah grande black coffee for me, and uh, a tall green tea please.”

“That is not what I ordered!” you snipped as he pulled forward to the first window.

“Yeah, I’m cutting you off,” he explained. “If I let you have any more caffeine, you won’t have any fingernails left.”

You dropped your hand quickly, surprised that he had noticed. You were miffed that he was denying you your coffee, but he was probably right. You took a deep breath and sipped your tea as he drove to the first stop on your list.

Somewhere along the highway, the radio jingled the familiar first notes of All I Want For Christmas is You. You sat up, excitedly reaching to turn the volume up.

“If I have to listen to this song one more time, I swear I’m gonna drive the car off this bridge,” he groaned, his hand covering yours to stop you from making his misery louder.

“Oh my god you’re so dramatic,” you raised your eyebrows, giving in and returning your hand to your lap. “She’s the queen of Christmas!”

“Please,” he gave you a pouty lip from the driver’s seat. “It’s killing me.”

“Okay, fine,” you laughed, rolling your eyes at him. “No more Mariah Carey.”

The department store parking lot was swarming with last minute shoppers. You hated that you belonged with them, punished for procrastination. Usually you did things early and thoroughly, now people would think you were one of the careless who pushed things to the last minute. It was a silly thing to worry about, but everything seemed to worry you today. You even made Rafe exchange phone numbers with you in case one of you got lost in the crowd and you couldn’t find each other. Your mind was running wild with worst case scenarios.

Rafe found a spot far from the door, as you walked towards the store’s entrance, you flipped through the catalog you’d snatched from your parent’s junkmail.

“Okay, so I circled everything that’s similar to what’s on the boys’ lists but on clearance,” you explained to him as he grabbed a cart, not fully listening to you. “We’ve got like fifty dollars for each of them, I think we can find a couple good things.”

Once inside the door, Rafe immediately grabbed a bag of chocolates off of the stocking stuffers display.

“That’s not on the list,” you reminded him, jaw dropping when he opened the bag and started eating the candy right there in the middle of the aisle. “And you didn’t pay for that!”

“Relax,” he held the bag out to you, “have some chocolate. Get into the Christmas spirit.”

“Since when are you the expert on the ‘Christmas spirit?’” You eyed him, noticeably not accepting a piece of his stolen candy. “You just threatened to throw Mariah Carey off a bridge.”

“No, I said I was gonna throw myself off a bridge if I had to listen to her one more time,” he placed his hand over his chest as if he was proving his innocence. “Besides, one of us has to have a little joy,” he noted, tilting his head a little to emphasize his point.

He was right, you were stressing a little too much. If Rafe Cameron was out-Christmasing you, then clearly you needed an attitude adjustment. 

“You’re right,” you sighed, accepting one of his chocolates and popping it in your mouth as you looked around the store to map out your shopping plan. “Alright, aisle ten for Reese’s camera lens and then aisle four for Benny’s lego-”

Your sentence was cut short at the feeling of Rafe’s thumb on the corner of your mouth, his face cool and casual as the pad of his finger ran across your lip. Your eyes shot around, there were at least a dozen people in this section, all close enough to see him circling your mouth with his finger.

Before you could push him off, not that you really wanted to, he pulled back. You stumbled a bit, subconsciously chasing the feeling of his touch. He revealed his thumb to you, he’d collected a little glob of chocolate that had smeared around your mouth.

“You’re gonna get us caught for our little shoplifting scheme,” he joked, licking the chocolate off the pad of his thumb as if it were the most normal thing in the world, and not an incredibly sensual action for a fluorescent lit department store at 7am.

“W-we are not shoplifting,” you stammered, fighting speechlessness and praying he didn’t notice the way your cheeks were burning. “You better pay for those.”

“Okay, okay,” he laughed. I’ll pay for them, I promise. But if I forget, I’m saying you took them.” He dropped the chocolates into the cart before you could protest and wheeled toward the first aisle on your list, making you scurry a bit to catch up with his long legs.

“Bastard,” you mumbled, still feeling flustered.

Somewhere between the frozen food section and the office supplies aisle, you actually started having fun. 

Your cart filled slowly, the rush you were in when you entered the store slowing with every moment that passed walking around the store with Rafe. You joked about the hideous holiday decor, and the cheesy romance novel shelf. You stood on the back of the cart as he wheeled you around, nearly taking out a display of canned goods, and got a stern warning from a stock boy that sent you both into a fit of mischievous laughter. He tried on a series of truly awful hats for you, and even let you snap a few pictures.

As you laughed and shopped together, you couldn’t help but notice the cheery looks of the older ladies that passed you in the aisles. You returned their friendly glances with a blush, wondering, though it made you feel like a silly schoolgirl, if they thought Rafe was your boyfriend.

You’d remind yourself how foolish the thought was as you checked items off your list, seeing as this was not the real Rafe Cameron. The real Rafe Cameron wouldn’t be caught dead shopping for gardening gloves and barbeque tongs for your parents, he’d rather be pregaming a party or kicking the girl from last night who’s name he’d already forgotten out of bed. 

And yet, here he was, pushing the cart while you rattled on about Christmas when you were seven when it snowed so hard the power went out, the last time you remembered actually having a white Christmas. The way he nodded along intently had you actually wondering if it could be real, if being with him could be more than just a distraction from a stressful morning.

Your thoughts spiraled even further when he stopped to point out a his and hers sweater set, one reading “naughty” and the other “nice.”

“As long as I get to be the nice one,” you smiled as he pulled the itchy wool over his head.

He leaned down to tug its partner over your head, his voice low in your ear,  “Only ‘cause I know you like it when I’m naughty.”

Butterflies did pirouettes in your stomach, you snapped a picture of the two of you in a mirror, Rafe towering over you from behind as he smiled for the camera. 

“Yeah, we’re definitely buying these,” he said, tucking the tag into your collar, his knuckles ghosting over the skin of your neck.

After a few more shenanigans, you realized two hours had passed, and you still had several more items on your list.

“How about this? For your brothers?” Rafe asked, pointing out an Xbox in a display case. 

You snorted, “there’s no planet on which my brother’s would think that actually came from our parents. They’re still using an old PlayStation someone gave us years ago.”

“Well then I’ll get it for them, you can say it came from Santa,” he shrugged, as if the astronomical price tag below it didn’t even exist.

“Our Santa brings, like, socks and candy. He doesn’t have a black card,” you pulled his arm, guiding him to a cheaper aisle.

“And what does your Santa usually bring you?” He questioned, a not so subtle way to find out what you wanted for Christmas. 

“I don’t ask him for much,” you brushed the question off. “I just want my family all together.”

Rafe didn’t push any further, watching you out of the corner of his eye, realization dawning that you were serious, you actually didn’t expect to get any gifts for Christmas.

Not noticing his eyes on you, you scanned over everything in your cart, adding it up on your phone’s calculator for the hundredth time. You couldn’t remember a day in your life you weren’t worried about money. Every penny counts now more than ever with your mom not working and your dad unable to find a job that pays enough to keep everyone afloat without completely running himself into the ground.

Without realizing it, you brought your fingertips back to your mouth, biting your nails anxiously for the first time since Rafe had pointed out the bad habit several hours ago.

“Hey you know what?” Rafe said, and you were so lost in worried thoughts that you flinched at the sound of his voice. “Why don’t we split up to get the rest of the list? We’ll cover more ground that way. Also, I think I saw some fake trees on sale back there, so I can grab one.”

“Okay,” you agreed, feeling the little bubble of your flirty shopping spree pop. 

He was clearly ready to be done with this little excursion. But you’d had more fun than you thought you would, and there were still several days of break left to enjoy with him. You could feel the walls you’d so carefully built around your heart swaying just a little bit in his wind. The thought terrified and thrilled you all at the same time.

After collecting your half of the gift list, you searched the store for Rafe. You found him in the jewelry section, leaning against the glass display case. You made your way towards him, prepared to tease him for wasting time in a section that wasn’t on the list, before you saw his reason for being there. You stopped short, ducking behind an inflatable Santa to watch with a disappointed glare. 

He was chatting up a pretty sales girl, her store uniform fitted tightly as she smiled down at him, her cheeks rosy pink and pretty smile blindingly white.

Rafe gave her the charming grin you’d begun to hope he only reserved for you, probably drawling some cheeky compliments to cause her to blush in the way you surely did when he talked to you.

The feeling in your chest was unfamiliar, and painfully uncomfortable. Reluctantly, you identified it as jealousy. No, no, you were not jealous over this obnoxious frat boy, you wouldn’t allow yourself to be. That was not how you were gonna start your Christmas break.

Just as you’d resolved not to be jealous, he reached up and brushed his hand against the necklace she was wearing, admiring her jewelry surely just as an excuse to bring his hand close to her chest. She beamed at him, his attempts at flirting clearly working. 

A deep frown settled on your features. He was supposed to be shopping for your little brothers and instead he was feeling up a sales girl? You felt so delusional for thinking you’d misjudged him on the drive down. He was the same guy you thought he was when he showed up at your car yesterday, you should've trusted your gut.

Hoping he wouldn’t catch you watching, you turned quickly on your heel, beelining for check out.

Taking the bag from the sales girl with a wink, Rafe tucked the small item at the bottom of his cart, under the presents he’d collected for your brothers, and began searching for you in the crowded aisles, looking forward to the pleased look on your face when he informed you he’d found everything on his half of the list.

When he found you, you were already half way through checking out, loading items onto the belt and watching with tense shoulders as the total on the screen climbed higher and higher.

“What, were you gonna leave without me?” Rafe joked as he started adding his items to the belt.

“We’re on a schedule, we don’t have time to keep fucking around,” you grumbled. 

Rafe met eyes with the college-aged guy who was working as cashier, both of them flashing knowing smirks as if to say, “chicks, am I right, man?” Their boyish camaraderie made you even angrier. 

Once your cart was empty, you started to help Rafe empty his cart, but he jumped around to the front before you could, blocking your access.

“No, no, I got it,” he said nervously, his body blocking you from reaching into his cart.

Irritation crept up your chest, threatening to take over completely. You suddenly felt so petty and immature, like you were Benny’s age, knowing you were about to say something rude you’d later regret. 

“Fine!” You shoved the cash your dad had given you in Rafe’s hands, “I’ll just go pull the car around then.”

Rafe watched you leave through the store’s sliding glass doors, arms crossed as you exited to the parking lot, which was wet and slippery from the wintery sleet mix that had started falling at some point when you were in the store. You paused and huffed deeply, annoyed by the shift in weather, throwing the hood of your jacket up as you jogged across the lot to your car.

He had no idea what had changed in the thirty minutes you’d been shopping separately. There had been a moment earlier when he thought he’d finally won you over, and now you were back to treating him like he was the bane of your existence.

“This too?” The cashier asked, holding out the decorative mistletoe Rafe had thrown in the bottom of his cart, thinking he could work in some cheeky joke with you and get that perfect eye roll/reluctant smile expression you make that he’d become a little obsessed with.

“Yeah, sure, whatever man,” he agreed with a frown.

As promised, you brought the car around, giving Rafe the cold shoulder as you loaded the gifts into the trunk. When you got to the fake tree Rafe had snagged from the holiday section, you paused.

“What’s that?” You questioned him.

“A tree?” He snapped back. “I told you I was gonna grab one.”

“No,” you shook your head, “we have to get a real tree.”

Rafe looked up at the sky pointedly, the worsening weather causing shoppers around you to duck and run to their car to get out of the misery.

“Are you serious?” He grumbled. “What’s wrong with this one?”

“It just…it has to be real, okay?” You huffed. “I found the last tree lot in the county that still has Douglas Firs, so you can take this one back.”

“Why don’t we keep this one just in case you change your mind,” he suggested.

“Fine, keep it, but I’m not changing my mind,” you threw the box with the fake tree into the trunk and slammed it closed, nearly catching Rafe’s hand in the heavy door as you did.

You stomped around to the driver’s side, leaving Rafe to return the carts to the main entrance, his jaw clenched in frustration the whole way. What had started as disappointment in your change in demeanor had turned into full-on anger. He may not be your favorite person, but you weren’t the only one having a shitty Christmas, and he definitely didn’t think he deserved whatever the fuck this was.

“I’m telling you, it was veer left, not turn left!”

The windshield wipers were working overtime, squeaking against the glass as they tried and failed to keep the freezing rain out of your line of vision. You sat all the way forward in your seat to see through the watery streaks they left behind. You had pulled onto some muddy back road as Rafe read directions from the GPS, trying to find this obscure tree lot several miles outside of town.

“Veer left doesn’t make any sense, I know that road, it’s all factories and empty lots,” you waved him off.

“Okay, well it’s clearly not this road! Is this even a road? It’s like a fucking swamp out here, I don’t know how your tires are even still moving,” He argued back.

“Not everything around here is as nice here as it is in the Outer Banks, Rafe. We’re doing our best, sorry if we don’t meet Cameron standards,” you griped at him.

“Oh my god, that’s not what I meant, just admit you’re fucking lost,” he snipped back.

“I am not lost. It’s probably just taking me on a shortcut. The road will clear up any minute.”

As you said those fateful words, the road got even more unstable, dirt and gravel mixing with the precipitation to make what looked more like a vat of chocolate pudding than a road. 

Stubbornly, you accelerated, determined to get out of this patch of road and prove to him you were right. As you sped up, the steering wheel turned erratically under your hands, your tires skidding on the slippery road, eventually stopping movement at all.

“Hmm interesting,” Rafe quipped sarcastically, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched you try to navigate the situation you’d gotten yourself into.

“It’s fine, I just need to…” you accelerated more, your spinning back tire kicking up mud as it fought for forward motion.

“Stop, you’re gonna - “

POP! The car skidded forward violently just an inch before stopping altogether, the weight of it sinking underneath you as a loud whistling noise echoed from the rear tire.

“- blow your tire,” Rafe threw his hands up in exasperation as the low tire pressure light on your dash illuminated with a little ‘ding!’

You avoided his eyes, hands still clutching the steering wheel as you clenched your jaw in anger. 

“Thanks a lot,” you mumbled.

Rafe blinked at you in disbelief, jaw hanging slack. 

“Me?” He scoffed, looking around the car as if there was someone he could look to for confirmation that you were being insane. “How is this my fault?”

“You’re rushing me! I know how to drive on back roads but you were distracting me!” You were grasping at straws, you knew it, he knew it, but logic had flown out the window when the tire blew. 

Rafe just chuckled humorlessly, pinching the bridge of his nose, “let’s just call someone and -”

But you were already opening your door, booted foot landing with a squelch in the mud.

“What are you doing?” He called after you.

You leaned down to look at him through your cracked door, “never changed a tire before, rich boy?” With a smirk, you slammed the door in his face.

Scrambling in the mud behind you, Rafe tried to reason with you.

“It’s pouring, you’re gonna get sick! Please just let me call someone and we can get a tow home - ”

“We still have to get the tree,” you shut him down, loosening the spare tire from the back of the hatchback.

Rafe threw his hands out in disbelief, “you’re not serious right? You’re still trying to find this fucking farm that, I gotta tell you, I’m starting to think doesn’t even exist.”

“Yes,” you said simply, lowering the tire to the ground and pulling the lug wrench from the trunk.

“You might actually be the most stubborn, ridiculous person I’ve ever met. What is it about getting this tree?” He yelled over the steadily increasing rainfall. 

“Because, Rafe, I can!” You dropped the wrench in the mud and turned on him, tears stinging your eyes as you yelled, letting all your frustration out on this boy, who just yesterday was a stranger. “I can’t get my dad a better job, and I can’t buy my brothers the presents the really want, and I can’t cure fucking cancer! But I can get a goddamn Douglas Fir, like we have every year since I was born. So I’m getting this tree! You can call your new friend from he jewelry department to come pick you up, but I’m staying here and changing this fucking tire!”

Standing back, Rafe buried his hands in his coat pockets, nodding along as you let it all out, the loose threads all twisting to finally weave together an explanation for your shift in mood. He spotted the tears as you mentioned your powerlessness over your dad’s job and your mom’s cancer, feeling like he was starting to understand your stubborn insistence to make this cursed Christmas joyful.

Though he knew he should be comforting you, he couldn’t help the little upward twitch of his lips at your comment about the jewelry girl. That explained your mood at check out, and if he was being honest, made his heart leap a little at the thought of you actually being jealous for his attention.

After several moments of his eyes on you, sizing you up as he digested your outburst, you suddenly felt exposed, and a little silly, “what?” you asked him with a burning blush.

“Nothing,” he shook his head with a grin, leaning down to pick the wrench up from the mud, “just didn’t know you were the jealous type.”

Your jaw fell slack, out of all you’d just said, of course he was zeroing in on your comment about the girl in the store. You were somewhat relieved though, glad to have an excuse to move on from talking about all the sad, stressful things going on at home.

“You’re such an ass,” you laughed, the air between you growing a little lighter. “I bet people call you that a lot.”

Rafe knelt down in the mud, beginning to loosen the screws of the flat tire.

“Not everyone, some people go with ��lost puppy’,” he muttered under his breath.

Your smile fell from your lips, your eyes grew as you realized he was quoting you back to you. He had heard you talking about him to your brothers last night. You replayed all your words in your head with a wince - laughing about how he was like the kid from Home Alone, saying you only brought him home because you felt awkward. God, now you felt like an ass.

“Rafe, I’m…I’m so sorry, that was not cool…”

“It’s fine,” he said, a small grunt leaving him as he used the wrench to loosen a particularly rusted bolt.

“No, it’s not. We shouldn’t have been laughing. I didn’t just bring you home because I felt bad-”

“Why did you then?” He stopped what he was doing, his eyes landing on yours so suddenly, you jumped back a bit, taken by the striking blue, and the vulnerability you were seeing in them for the first time.

Deciding it was time to get your own jeans muddy, you knelt down next to him, hands wrapping around the wrench handle next to his to help him pull, both of you struggling due to the rain making the wrench so slippery.

The bolt still didn’t budge, and you paused for a minute, sitting back on your heels and looking at him.

“Because it’s Christmas,” you answered his question. “And I wanted to spend it with a friend.”

The tips of his ears burned red, he hoped you’d think it was just from the cold.

Going in for a second try, you both tugged on the wrench again, gritted teeth and white knuckles as you combined your strength to turn it as hard as you could. Frosted rain slipping between the end of the wrench and the bolt made it slip, the metal flying through the air. You and Rafe both slipped in the mud under your knees, Rafe trying to catch himself on his hands so he didn’t land on top of you, but not quite in time. His large body landed on top of yours and you both went tumbling down the side of the road, landing side by side in the muddy ditch with an unsettling squelch.

Both of you completely covered in mud, panting and shocked, Rafe turned his head to look at you, “fake tree?”

“Yeah,” you breathlessly agreed. “Fake tree.”

You and Rafe snuck in through the garage,  both of you tracking mud with every step. There was no way you’d make it all the way up to the bathroom without destroying the floors in your wake.

You’d laughed together the entire drive back to the house. What a disaster the shopping trip had turned into, and yet, you were more in the Christmas spirit now than you had been in a long, long time.

“Oh shit,” you yelped, slipping on your own muddy boot and knocking down a pile of boxes as you tried to stabilize yourself.

Rafe’s arms shot out to catch you, your nails digging into his forearms to hold yourself up. You eyed him, still wearing the “naughty” sweater you hoped he’d remembered to pay for.

“Well these are ruined,” you sighed, looking down at your own mud-soaked pullover. “And there’s no way we’re making it upstairs without tracking in mud.”

Before your sentence was even finished, Rafe was hooking his hands into the collar, pulling the sweater up and off with one pull, peeling off the soaked t-shirt underneath it, too. 

Failing miserably to hide your shock at his sculpted form, you bit your lip to silence the gasp that was begging to escape. He was just as built as you expected, if not more. His abs creased in a perfect set of six, sturdy pecs and two thick blue veins running through each bicep. He was somehow tan in the middle of December, and his skin was perfectly smooth apart from the little line of rough hair that ran from his belly button down to the waistband of his jeans. 

He caught you staring, of course he did, and smirked as he flustered you further by unbuttoning his jeans and letting them fall to the floor in a muddy heap, left in only his black boxer-briefs.

Frozen in place, you subconsciously pulled your sleeves down over your hands, as if covering yourself up more could clear the cloud of attraction fogging your brain. Rafe turned and walked towards the door that led into the house.

“Wha-where are you going?” You asked him, snapped out of your trance.

“To take a shower,” he said, like it was obvious. “I’m fucking freezing, but you can stay here and drip.”

He smiled at you expectantly, there was a challenging dip in his voice as he over pronounced the last word. Something competitive rose in your chest, he clearly didn’t think you had it in you to strip down, too. At the end of the day, you were a classic oldest child - you didn’t take kindly to losing.

Keeping your eyes locked to him, you grabbed the hem of your sweater and pulled it off over your head, copying him by pulling the shirt underneath off too until you were standing in front of him in just your bra. Rafe tilted his head as his eyes raked over you, raising his eyebrows when he got to your jeans, just as muddy and destroyed as his had been.

With a hard swallow, you undid the button and zipper with shaky hands, shimmying your hips a little to pull the wet denim over your curves. Rafe went pale and speechless, taking in the little show with a heavy rise and fall of his chest. You piled all of your clothes in the corner, hoping no one in your family stumbled upon them before you had the chance to wash them.

Rafe didn’t even try to hide the way he was drinking you in as you padded towards him in your underwear, brushing past him to get to the door first.

“I mean, damn,” he wolf-whistled at you, quietly so no one inside the house came looking for the sound.

“Shut up,” you rolled your eyes, stepping ahead of him so he couldn’t see your pleased smile.

He followed your tiptoed steps through the hall and up the stairs, stopping at each corner to make sure no one was going to come around it and catch the two of you sneaking around in your underwear. 

Once you made it to the upstairs bathroom, you turned on the shower, excited to step into the steamy water and finally warm up. You were surprised to find Rafe still standing in the open doorway when you turned, sure he’d get the hint that he should wait outside when it came time for you to really strip down.

“What are you doing?” You whisper-scolded him.

“Enjoying the view,” he winked.

“Oh my god,” you groaned, pushing him by his chest so he stumbled back into the hall. “I don’t need your help for this pa-”

Your sentence was cut short by the creaking of wood under incoming footsteps. Panicking, you grabbed Rafe’s wrist, pulling him into the bathroom and locking the door behind him. 

“Woah, is this really happening?” He asked breathlessly, licking his lips before you slapped your hand over his mouth to shut him up, his eyes going wide at your boldness.

“Someone’s coming,” you mouthed, urging him to be quiet as you kept your palm firmly sealed over his lips.

The footsteps in the hall grew louder, their owner getting closer and closer to the door, not knowing you had a half-naked man pushed up against the other side as steam swirled around your bare bodies.

As you both waited with baited breath, your eyes drifted over Rafe’s body, so close to yours in the tiny bathroom. You couldn’t help it, sure that desire was painted all over your features. There was no use in denying it, as the warm steam caused a single drop of sweat to roll down his chest and into the ripple of his abs, you finally allowed yourself to accept that you wanted him, bad.

He felt it too, you were sure of it, his eyes half closed with heavy lids as he looked down over you, drinking in all the exposed skin and soft lace of your underwear set. 

Just as his hand slowly started rising toward your hip, a knock on the other side of the door made you both jump, a little yelp of surprise almost leaving your lips before Rafe threw his hand over your mouth, the tables turned. 

“Hey Gigs?” Benny’s little voice called from the other side of the door.

You tried to move Rafe’s hand from your mouth, but he only allowed you to lift it enough to respond before covering your lips again.

“Y-yeah, Beans?” Your voice cracked in response, Rafe flashing you a teasing grin at your flustered state. You shot him a warning look, praying your little brother couldn’t sense what was going on.

“Can we open the presents you bought us now, pleaseee?” Benny asked.

Normally you’d say no, that they had to wait until Christmas day. But as you were about to reject his request, Rafe pulled his hand from your mouth, letting his thumb tug your bottom lip down as he dragged his fingers to your jaw and brushed the soft skin of your neck. You could tell by his wicked grin he was enjoying seeing how far he could push you, drunk off your blushes and gasps.

“Yes, sure, th-that’s fine,” you told Benny, eager to get him away from the door. Rafe chuckled quietly at your compliance, making you clench your jaw even harder in annoyance at him.

“Sweet, thanks!” Benny called, hurrying back downstairs, clearly not having expected you to give him the answer he wanted.

Once you were sure the coast was clear, you glared up at Rafe, “you can’t do that!”

He threw his head back in satisfied laughter, bringing it back down only to drop his lips close to your ear.

“So, how about that shower?” He whispered.

With a little grin of your own, you leaned in too, “Rafe?”

“Yeah?”

“Get out.”

Rafe managed to find his way back to the laundry room without bumping into any of your brothers. He ran his hair under the utility sink faucet to get the flecks of mud out, throwing on some clean, warm clothes before heading to the kitchen in search of a much needed glass of water, his mouth still full of cotton at the thought of you nearly naked in front of him.

As he rounded into the kitchen, he stopped short, surprise flashing across his face.

A painfully thin woman, who he could only assume to be your mother, stood in the middle of the small space, bony hands on the back of an empty kitchen chair. Her bald head was wrapped in a silky scarf, and she smiled an easy grin that reminded him so stunningly of yours.

“You must be Rafe,” she said. “Have a seat.”

(to be continued)

a/n: okay not the single longest post I've ever made on this website. period. thank u for reading!! two more parts w the last taking place on New Year's Eve. merry everything!!

taglist note: the taglist for this series will be posted in replies asap and has gotten very long so it is closed. I'm soooo thankful that ppl want to know when I post you have no idea! but it takes me a long time to do and makes posting difficult, so I am asking that in order to stay on the list for the rest of the series, you interact with each post in some way (reply with feedback, a rb, an ask - anything you'd like!) it really helps me as a writer! thank you!!

if you missed the taglist, just follow @whytheylosttheirminds-works and turn on notifs to be first to know when I post!

[juyeoz]

GOOD GRACES — YANG JUNGWON

SYNOPSIS — You and Yang Jungwon were both a part of your school’s athletics committee. Usually, in a club, all the members got along, correct? However, that wasn’t the case for you two. Hatred wasn’t enough to describe what you felt for each other. Although, you two had two different roles within the club, he always found a way to get into your head. Even if you hated that aspect of him, your president took it as an opportunity to make you two work together on a very important task—the athletics section of the yearbook. Seems like bad luck does exist.

PAIRING — volleyball-player!jungwon x photographer-fem!reader (ft. enhypen, woonhak from boynextdoor, yujin and wonyoung from ive, ningning from aespa, shotaro from riize, jisung from nct, hong seunghan, jiheon from fromis_9, jongseob and intak from p1harmony, minju from illit, haewon from nmixx, chaehyun from kep1er, and mentions of other idols too)

GENRES(S) — smau + written, enemies to lovers, he fell first he fell harder, forced proximity (?), tutor x tutee, highschool au, nonidol au, sports au, slow burn, fluff, crack, and angst.

WARNING(S) — swearing, random timestamps, bantering, insults, spelling errors (on purpose), kys/kms jokes, threats, mentions of gagging, injury, and mentions of being sick + fainting.

STATUS — completed! (oct 22nd, 2024 - feb 6th, 2025)

TAGLIST IS CLOSED!

PROFILES › ONE | TWO | THREE | FOUR

CHAPTER ONE — yang jungwok

CHAPTER TWO — you look schizophrenic

CHAPTER THREE — mistakes my evil twin (0.8k words)

CHAPTER FOUR — OH MY GOD

CHAPTER FIVE — go on without me (0.7k words)

CHAPTER SIX — homozygous

CHAPTER SEVEN — are you stupid? (0.1k words)

CHAPTER EIGHT — BY EMAIL?!$&%

CHAPTER NINE — tell my story thanks!

CHAPTER TEN — road to ***** (0.7k words)

CHAPTER ELEVEN — well….

CHAPTER TWELVE — TAKE IT BACK RIGHT NOW

CHAPTER THIRTEEN — he might fail me yall

CHAPTER FOURTEEN — Who did this to you?

CHAPTER FIFTEEN — that’s kind of kinky…!

CHAPTER SIXTEEN — world pause (1.2k words)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN — at what cost? (1.7k words)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN — what the fuck (0.3k words)

CHAPTER NINETEEN — Lee Heeseung.

CHAPTER TWENTY — yeah so ABSOLUTELY NOT

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE — attacked with a crutch

CHAPRER TWENTY-TWO — fuck you

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE — k so die

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR — Bro?

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE — the return of jungwon…

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX — disgusted (0.6k words)

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN — lmaoo wdym ??

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT — no shit ???

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE — Yeah it’s over . bye

CHAPTER THIRTY — for u and ur broke ass

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE — ofc u would biggie

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO — the boy who swore (0.9k words)

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE — ho Speak.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR — you’re on your own, kid

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE — U AINT HOLLYWOOD

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX — #GotSentHome

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN — OH MY GOD??&:%%]

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT — 𝓱𝓸𝓵𝓭 𝓸𝓷

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE — it must be true love twin!

CHAPTER FORTY — Skin u alive.

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE — not once but twice (0.6k words)

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO — SHE DOESNT WANT U

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE — BRING HOME THAT WINNN

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR — #BlondeHairDomination

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE — Oh. (0.5k words)

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX — Wait a minute

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN — *gulps..*

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT — might fry Lol

COMPLETED!

© JUYEOZ

[etfrin]

❝ꜱᴏᴜʟꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴄʀᴜꜱʜ❞

ᴄᴏʀɪᴏʟᴀɴᴜꜱ ꜱɴᴏᴡ

series by etfrin | not to be post anywhere without permission!

coriolanus snow x fem! reader

snow lands on top

series taglist | series playlist | navigation

about: coriolanus snow refuses to have a district girl (albeit grown up in the capitol) as his soulmate. it's humiliating and below his status. and so with the 10th annual Hunger Games begins creating the utter most chaos in his life and makes him face everything he had ignored! (movie compliant)

note: some dialogue and paragraphs are taken from the book [the hunger games: the ballad of songbirds and snakes]

I do not own any of the hunger games characters or original stories, only the plot of this fanfic.

prologue !

chapter one !

chapter two !

chapter three !

chapter four !

chapter five ! part one | chapter five ! part two

chapter six !

chapter seven !

chapter eight !

chapter nine !

chapter ten !

chapter eleven !

chapter twelve !

chapter thirteen !

chapter fourteen !

chapter fifteen !

chapter sixteen !

chapter seventeen !

chapter eighteen !

chapter nineteen !

chapter twenty !

chapter twenty-one !

chapter twenty-two !

chapter twenty-three !

chapter twenty- four !

THE END . . .

[causenessus]

love notes. | suna r.

she's always looking for new art. he's sending her pictures of romantic street art he finds in cities on away games. they say if you fall in love with an artist, you'll be in their art forever. she's the inspiration behind the love notes he's leaving on walls and sending her pictures of as if he's just stumbled upon them. he's the one she's thinking about everytime she's behind a camera.

suna x f! reader

COMPLETED haikyuu smau

taglist: CLOSED

playlists: 1 ( made by me </3 ) | 2 ( @eggyrocks's SUPERIOR playlist )

warnings & notes: language, alcohol/drinking, lots of written parts probably, extreme extreme pining, boths sides are in denial about how the other party feels about them, college timeskip, msby is a college volleyball team bc i said so and the team is slightly altered, timestamps don't matter, hurt & comfort having to do with family issues, comfort comes from found family <3, suna is a loverboy, miscommunication, friends to lovers, everyone's probably ooc. you can blame the horrors of my past relationships and zodiac sign. i know very little about photography and graffiti but i'm trying my best

THE EXHIBITS: coffee enthusiasts | ride or die bros for life

table of contents: (💌 for any chapters with written content <3)

part one: i know a guy (💌) part two: backstabbing bitch part three: rinnie poo (💌) part four: the "i'm disappointed" card part five: fire extinguisher man part six: rowdy teenagers (💌) part seven: there's life in these walls (💌) part eight: if you're willing to listen (💌) part nine: for as long as you'll have me (💌) part ten: connected the dots part eleven: would you light a building on fire for her? part twelve: support small businesses day part thirteen: big spoon deity part fourteen: one step forward, two steps back (💌) part fifteen: middle school boys locker room core part sixteen: remember in the morning (💌) part seventeen: sorry omi / the incident (💌) part eighteen: making mac and cheese at two in the morning? (💌) part nineteen: unspoken confessions (💌) part twenty: epilogue (💌)

moodboards: love notes, suna, y/n, suna & y/n

extras: kenma photography refs, suna & y/n sending each other tiktoks hc

thank you for reading love notes <3

[peterm4rker]

from the rooftops || m.l

in which biochemistry major mark lee didn’t have time to be swinging around the city fighting crime when he had a chemistry report due in two days and a whole plan to make the girl of his dreams to fall in love with him before the new years party.

or

in which journalism major y/n l/n needed her ground breaking story of the year before fuckass yuna took her place in the college newspaper and decided her favorite superhero was the answer, all while trying to get that cute biochem student to notice her.

★ pairing ;; spiderman!mark x journalist!reader

★ genres ;; social media au, written parts, superhero au, slowburn, fluff, strangers to friends to lovers.

★ featuring ;; ph1, aespa, bnd, riize, xikers, other nct units.

★ warnings ;; profanity, sexual jokes and innuendos, death jokes, alcohol use, maybe weed consumption, very mild stalking, let me know if theres more!

★ status ;; ongoing!

★ updates ;; new chapter every monday and thursday !!

★playlist ;; tba...

★ taglist ;; open!

★ blue's corner ;; i cant be peterm4rker without writing a spidermark au, can i? but anywaysss, i love yall enjoy this as much as i know ill enjoy writing it!

★ please do not copy, adapt or steal any of the content !!!

we know what you are || store bought avengers

zero. hey guys…

one. you could do that

two. not quite

three. or so he thought (written)

four. LOCKED IN

five. MARK LEE 🫵🏼

six. mission accomplished

seven. you hate me cuz you aint me💅🏻💅🏻💅🏻

eight. who lied to you

nine. YOU BROKE ME FIRST

ten. the girl in the green beetle (written)

eleven. the bar is in hell

twelve. PREACH🙏🙏

thirteen. i should've ran

fourteen. NOT IT

fifteen. singles speak up✊🏻

sixteen. what a loser

seventeen. surprise picnic (written)

eighteen. crisis adverted

nineteen. I WISH I WAS😭

twenty. creepy as hell

twenty one. yn protectors

twenty two. the creep ™

twenty three. the conundrum

twenty four. mark fucking lee

twenty five. the start of the end

twenty six. idc😛

twenty seven. the date (written)

twenty eight. DAMN

twenty nine. im not this mans daughter

© peterm4rker, 2024-2025

[suhnandmoon]

beat it!

social media au masterlist

pairing: slytherin team beater!riki x hufflepuff team chaser!reader

genre: hogwarts au, enemies to lovers, temporary memory loss, idiot (riki) to lovers, slight angst (happy ending) sorry reader gets put through the ringer, still unserious

summary: you and nishimura riki, quidditch prodigies of your respective houses, have been rivals for as long as you’ve been at hogwarts. what happens when an accidental, overestimated bludger throw from nishimura sends you plummeting down the pitch, leaving you with temporary memory loss? the answer is a stupid plan on riki’s part to try to get you to be nice to him while you can’t remember your rival. god, what did he get himself into..

warnings: memory loss, mentions of blood status (reader is a half-blood) it becomes a bit of a plot point you’ll see what happens because of it. it creates like a fake conflict

notes: need not fret! my riki au is here!! hope you guys enjoy this one. to my loser heeseung lovers: he's back. and i will most likely be doing a heeseung spin off once this ends.

schedule:

started: 12.12.24

completed: 1.20.25

status: complete!!

teaser: here

character previews: one / two

chapters: one / two / three / four / five / six / seven / eight / nine / ten / eleven / twelve / thirteen / fourteen / fifteen / sixteen / seventeen / eighteen / nineteen / twenty

playlist: here

[johnnysuhbmarine]

On the Same Page ♡ Masterlist

Pairing: Haechan x reader Description: Knowing a change of scenery was what your mental health needed, you transferred to where your brother, Mark, goes to college. The good news is, he’s not too cool for his younger sister, so he lets you join his friend group immediately. The bad news is, Haechan is in that friend group, and a brief encounter four years ago was enough for you to understand he does NOT like you. Even worse news, he’s a lot hotter than he was four years ago…

Genre: smau (some written parts), college au, crack, some angst, some fluff, "enemies" but more so strangers to lovers, brother's best friend, so many (2) ups and downs, general idiocy when it comes to feelings Content Warnings: swearing, death jokes, mentions of depression and anxiety, mentions of bullying, a few punches thrown here and there (reader is not involved)

A/n: Please know I do not take the above subjects lightly and do not intend for it to come across that way at any point in this smau. As someone who struggles with this stuff, I guess I was kind of writing what I needed to hear sometimes (so forgive me for some self-indulgence)...and as a comm major who did an entire research paper around the impact of friends/social support on one's depression, I felt okay addressing those topics here - I promise I’m not uninformed and just trying to add plot points. As always, take care of yourself first. I love you.

Status: completed! Started: October 27, 2024 Ended: December 14, 2024 Taglist closed

[Intro: SM University Besties] [Intro: NCIT Crew] [Chapter One: Female intuition]

[Chapter Two: A SISTER?!?!]

[Chapter Three: why he kinda...]

[Chapter Four: It must be a sibling thing]

[Chapter Five: Chat, am I jealous?]

[Chapter Six: Normal person? No can do.]

[Chapter Seven: a pretty good guess]

[Chapter Eight: mono boy]

[Chapter Nine: He's a sleazebag]

[Chapter Ten: What is a star party?]

[Chapter Eleven: on the way]

[Chapter Twelve: my sister's favorite movie]

[Chapter Thirteen: You’re pretty cool, too]

[Chapter Fourteen: It’s a little bit funny]

[Chapter Fifteen: I'll just ask Mark] (partly written)

[Chapter Sixteen: smol bear] (partly written)

[Chapter Seventeen: doing a great job]

[Chapter Eighteen: locking in]

[Chapter Nineteen: scheiße]

[Chapter Twenty: not as cute as Mark]

[Chapter Twenty-One: Mr. Snippy]

[Chapter Twenty-Two: Take a break]

[Chapter Twenty-Three: couldn't keep my promise]

[Chapter Twenty-Four: The men in y/n's life]

[Chapter Twenty-Five: Halloween]

[Chapter Twenty-Six: A little birdie]

[Chapter Twenty-Seven: I don't need your protection]

[Chapter Twenty-Eight: butterflies in her stomach]

[Chapter Twenty-Nine: EMERGENCY]

[Chapter Thirty: We're so back] (partly written)

[Chapter Thirty-One: lunch dates]

[Chapter Thirty-Two: pretty girl] (partly written)

[Epilogue: three months later...]

[myjjongie]

♯┆FIGHTING FOR FIRST ── P. JONGSEONG.ᐟ SMAU

PAIRING: college student!jay x college student fem!reader

SYNOPSIS: you and jay have been at each others throats for the whole time you've been enrolled at decelis university. the reason for the rivalry in question? the #1 rank on the academic leaderboard in the university. you went through your whole high school life being #1 on the academic leaderboard. you meet jay, who also had the same upbringing in high school. things then start to turn into a constant battle. leaving you constantly in second place and jay in first place every rank update.

GENRE: smau plus written parts (will be specified), college au, enemies to friends to lovers, academic rivals, pining, he fell first but is in heavy denial in the beginning (sigh), fluff, crack

FEATURING: enhypen (all members) p1harmony (keeho) riize (sohee & seunghan) aespa (ningning) + mentions of other idols

WARNINGS: kys/kms jokes, swearing, friendly bullying, inappropriate jokes, mentions of alcohol and drinking (done wisely)

SCHEDULE: every tuesday and friday (will upload early sometimes)

TAGLIST: open ! just send me a ask :D

STATUS: 11/19/2024 - ongoing

PLAYLIST: APT rose ft. bruno mars, all i wanted paramore, r u mine? artic monkeys, poison nct dream, you get me so high the neighbourhood, i wanna be yours artic monkeys, something about you eyedress ft. dent may, my kind of woman mac demarco, glue song beabadoobee, cherry waves deftones, sextape deftones, you nctdream

A. NOTE: noticed not that many people write smaus for jay, so here i am…. first time making a smau as well. i hope you guys like it !! i think thats all i have to say. enjoy this :3

PROFILES.ᐟ ─── (bad bitches + jake)

(thing 1,2,3,4,5) (bonus)

CHAPTERS ─────────୨୧⋆ ˚

one. IM GONNA (K)eep (M)yself (S)afe

two. YAY JAKEY

three. im sooooooooooo drunk rn hehe

four. my girls face card never declines

five. why is bro thirst trapping on my timeline rn..

six. and im not fine shyt

seven. my biggest fans ever chat ! (wc; 821)

eight. then i crashed out and DIED

nine. HOLY FUCK SPEAK OF THE DEVIL BRB

ten. #STANDUPQUEEN

eleven. HE ONLY SHOWED HALF OF HIS FACE

twelve. stage 1. acceptance

thirteen. rest in piss yn

fourteen. jake crashout before GTA6

fifteen. womp womp :3

sixteen. we need to talk (wc; 1.2k)

seventeen. FUCK OFF JAKE SIM

eighteen. i live in a world

nineteen. are you wasted rn?

twenty. yeah i'm goated ik (wc; 2k)

twentyone. oh jaaaayyyy :3

twentytwo. i fear. maybe. maybe he wants you??? (wc; 651)

twentythree. i lob aquarium

twentyfour. bro just play roblox.

more tba....

fighting for first taglist (open)...

@idontknowhowtomakeusernames @right-person-wrong-time @jakeyverse @minthoons @punchbug9-blog @starfallia @heartheejake @ikeulove @rairaiblog @kazemiya @yourssincerely-mimi @wondipity @leehsngs @justalittle-hee @chandmyseven @letwiiparkjay @dylanobr1ens @bbsantc @beigerin @mwahvvis @nickiminajleftasscheek @firstclassjaylee @strayy-kidz @itrytomakesenseofitall @rikizm @sumzysworld @jiheonie @heelovesmeknot @qfeet @jungwoniee @yuyamihi @jayhoonvroom @lockburn-castle @kukkurookkoo @1-itsneverthatserious-1 @luvleyylina

©myjjongie 2024

[charliemwrites]

Part 12 SpecGru reader!!

No content warnings for this chapter.

You mull over your captain’s words in the hours before dinner. Sitting behind Nova in her temporary room, Doctor Who’s opening theme warbling from your laptop’s speakers. You gently work oil into her scalp, following the precise alleys formed by her braids.

It’s a soothing ritual, not just for her, but for you. An act of care for a woman who’s been so kind and patient with you. Who always stood her ground on your worst days, and never allowed herself to be goaded into a useless argument. She’s warm beneath your fingers, soft against your chest, the scent of coconut and cinnamon sweet in your nose.

Slowly, you begin to card through memories you put great care into neglecting.

The day you left the hospital, feeling more pathetic than you ever had in your life. A packet of care instructions folded over in one hand. You remember the way Gaz hadn’t quite looked you in the eye, mouth tight and regretful at the corners. Almost guilty. Even when he handed over a bag of fresh clothes, saying he was glad to see you on your feet.

Did you know then? Was there some twinge of foreshadowing in your gut? Did you hear a foreboding whisper in your mind, of how the following twenty-four hours would devolve?

Maybe you did or maybe hindsight is a liar.

What really stands out, even after all this time, is how betrayed you felt (still feel) when you reflect on that interaction with Gaz. That the best he offered was a weak warning that Ghost and Price were pissed off at you. The hurt that he didn’t even ask how you felt before disappearing for the rest of that awful day. You never saw him after your initial discharge, he might as well have borrowed his lieutenant’s namesake.

And then there was Johnny.

Soap, who made himself perfectly visible, if only to express how pissed off he was. He never bothered to ask how you were doing either – didn’t even seem relieved to see you conscious and in one piece. He was tight-jawed and tense; the few times he deigned to speak to you was clipped and terse.

When you finally left, you remember how your chest ached, knowing (intending) you’d never see his thousand-watt smile again. A fair few of your tears on that flight had been in self-deprecation for expecting anything but his total, unwavering loyalty to Simon. It stung that for all his crowing about being a team, looking out for each other, no one left behind – he couldn’t spare you a crumb of forgiveness for a mistake in the field.

Price and Ghost had almost made sense, really. But Gaz and Soap had been a peculiar sort of pain. Your fellow sergeants, who had made you feel welcome and comfortable in the beginning – who had been the bridge and buffer between you and your intimidating superiors. And maybe it wasn’t their fault that you never quite felt like you had a seat at their table, but they’d tried.

Still… at least you can look at them. You can’t imagine opening your mouth to face Price or Ghost and anything but acid pouring out.

“What’s on your mind, babes?”

You blink, palms automatically cradling Nova’s head as she tilts it back to peer at you. On autopilot, you dip down to kiss her forehead, then the gentle curve of her lips.

“Hmm?”

“Don’t get me wrong, the massage is nice,” she teases, “but you’ve gone over my whole head at least twice now.”

“Oh,” you intone, swiping your thumb behind her ear. “Just thinkin’ is all.”

“I can tell,” she giggles, “there’s practically smoke comin’ outta your ears.”

You grimace a bit, arms lowering down to circle her shoulders in a hug. She curls her clever, slender fingers around your forearm, tracing soft patterns with her blunt nails.

“Sorry, love,” you mumble, flicking your eyes to the screen. Realize you’ve only got a vague idea of what’s going on. “I’m being a bad date.”

“You’re not,” she insists, squeezing your wrist. “This s’all been a lot, yeah? I just don’ want you being on your own in there.”

She taps two fingers against your temple. You used to spend all your time alone in your own head. Not because it was safe – it wasn’t – but it was familiar. It took her and the rest of the team concerted effort to pry anything of value from you.

Now, you muster up an appreciative smile as you nuzzle into her hand.

“I’ve just been trying to decide…”

She pauses the show and wriggles to get a better look at your face, hums for you to continue.

“If I should try talking to the 141,” you continue. “Cap said I should consider it. See if we can put all that old shit to rest.”

“Do you want to put it to rest?”

“I should.”

“But do you want to?”

The question brings you up a bit short. Being mad is easy. You’ve been mad at them for so long, one step short of loathing, that you’ve settled into the feeling. Dug your heels in. It’s an easy way to put a stopper on all the complicated hurt lying beneath.

“I want to talk to them the same way I want to go to the dentist,” you muse.

She picks up what you aren’t saying.

“You don’t want to, but you know it’s healthier if you do.”

You grunt, still too proud to admit it outright.

“The wound closed over, but it never healed properly,” she says. “Maybe you’ve got to reset it, yeah?”

You sigh. “Yeah. Just not sure where to start.”

She shrugs. “Wherever you want to. Do it on your own terms. Only way you’ll be able to stomach them.”

You chuckle. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

“’Course I am,” she chirps. “I’m used to navigating bad weather.”

You nip at her fingers, prompting a bright peel of laughter as she tries to squirm away. As you wrestle her back into your lap, your nerves soften and settle.

Even if you excise this wound, you know you won’t be left bleeding alone. Not ever again.

You haven’t come to any concrete decision after dinner. Not that anyone asks. Nova isn’t one to push and your captain has already said his piece. You haven’t told Nikto or Keegan about your dilemma yet, and you’re not sure if you will.

Nikto’s take on the situation isn’t obvious – though if you had to guess, it would be similar to Nova’s. But Keegan? You already know what his answer would be.

Of anyone in SpecGru, he had to work the hardest to earn even an iota of warmth from you. He reminded you too much of Ghost – and how could he not? The perpetual mask, the sharp one-liners. Gruff and closed off, frighteningly capable, and a crack shot with a sniper rifle to boot.

It used to take everything in you to pull your punches during spars. The rare instances that you would agree to eat with your new team were never if Keegan was present. And more than once, you walked into the rec room, saw his looming figure, and turned right back around.

The only time you could stand to look at him was during missions, but your captain was always sure to receive a killer glare if he paired the two of you together.

Keegan was your partner on the mission that changed things.

It had been a week straight of shit sleep and bad memories, sick on loneliness and anger. When boots hit the ground, you stormed right in, eager to prove to yourself (but really, to them) that you were valuable. Didn’t wait for Keegan, but that had never stopped him from keeping pace with you before.

You didn’t clear your corners, got sloppy and hasty.

Took two stab wounds before Keegan shot the hostile in the temple. When he tried to call the others, you demanded that he finish the mission first. Would have rather bled out than be the reason another mission failed.

The pain and blood loss dragged you under as soon as you choked out the demand.

Then, Keegan’s face was the first thing you saw in the hospital room. Not the mask, him.

Even with dirt and black paint smudging his face, you could see the dark, worried circles beneath his eyes. Could read regret in his angular jaw, relief in the slant of his scarred mouth. For the first time, you looked in his eyes and saw more than an echo of your former lieutenant.

You saw your teammate. The partner you’d left to fend for himself because you’d been handicapped by your own pride. You saw Keegan.

“Did you finish the mission?” you rasped.

He frowned, but your captain stepped forward. “He did – once we were there to stop the bleeding.”

You never saw Ghost in the weave of his mask again.

And soon after, Keegan was the first person you opened up to about the 141.

It was that very same week. You’d been sick on shame and embarrassment, using your injuries to nurse your wounded ego. Skipping meals in exchange for raiding your snack drawers and moping in your cot.

Keegan hadn’t made himself scarce after your discharge. None of your team had, really – but he’d made a point of checking on you. And lacking your usual sharpness, he hadn’t been deterred by your comparatively mild standoffishness either.

Which was how you found yourself stubbornly tucked into the corner of your cot one night, while Keegan sewed the holes in your shirt. He kept shooting you amused looks – probably because you hadn’t taken your eyes off him once. Half wondering why he was there, half waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“You gonna say something, or you just glare all night?” he drawled eventually.

You narrowed your eyes. “Do you plan to stay all night?”

He shrugged, but his eyes flicked to yours, the corner of his mouth ticking up. (No mask. He hadn’t worn one around you since the hospital. Not unless people outside your team were around.)

“If you’ll have me. Been meaning to get you caught up on the show we’ve been watching.”

You huffed, frustrated. “Why?”

He arched his brows at you, needle paused. “Because I like you, despite your best efforts.”

You stared, a little appalled, a little touched. Keegan just chuckled and went right back to mending your shirt. You drew your knees up tighter and hid your quivering mouth with your arms.

“Cap says your last team was shit to you,” he said into your sullen silence.

You scowled. He put a hand up as if in surrender.

“He hasn’t said more’n that, don’t worry,” he continued, “I’m just sayin’… I don’t take any of it personal. You’re a good teammate, I trust you with more than my six.”

Why, you wanted to demand, flabbergasted and all the guiltier because you knew you didn’t deserve it. Why did he trust you? Why was he so patient? Why was he there at all?

You sniffled, but he just kept talking.

“I want to return the favor, ya know? I’m not askin’ you to trust me after the mission, but you don’t gotta be on your own either.”

You were crying quietly by that point, face so hot that your tears felt cold, stomach aching from more than stab wounds. He finally looked up, saw how you were falling apart. But he didn’t shy away, didn’t close himself off. It wasn’t pity or sympathy that softened his eyes.

“The shit you and I carry, we’re not meant to do it alone, sweets.”

And what else could you do, but spill your sorry guts?

You remember the expression on his face when you got to the part about Ghost. Remember how tightly he held you on your cot, all the distance (emotional and physical) closed between you two. Remember waking up the next morning, Netflix still open on your laptop and flopped gracelessly over Keegan’s stomach like a childhood sleepover.

You couldn’t have iced him out again even if you wanted to, after that.

No, there’s no question what Keegan would tell you, if you asked about talking to the 141. He would say there’s no good reason to waste oxygen on a single one of them.

So, you don’t ask.

You climb into his lap in your temporary room that evening, peeling his mask up and off with slow hands. His eyes are already half-lidded, the corner of his mouth curved fondly. His hands spread across your thighs, warm and rough. The scar twisting across his left palm is sweetly familiar when he draws it along your skin.

“I’m going to try talking to the 141,” you admit.

His jaw twitches, eyes flickering. “Now why the hell would you do that?”

You sigh, curl your fingers into the brassy crop of hair he’s been growing out. He’s got a quick temper, and a habit of misplacing it when it’s been triggered by something out of his control. You don’t take it personally, you never have – it’s gratifying to see how much he cares.

“There’s no good reason to waste oxygen on a single one of ‘em,” he growls.

“There might be.”

He sits back, skeptical but waiting.

You continue, “I’ve got a lot of shit to say to them, and they seem eager to hear it.”

“Why give ‘em the satisfaction?” he asks.

“Maybe it’ll help with the nightmares.” That gives him pause. You draw your thumb soothingly across his temple – a bullet graze from saving your life. “We’ve got too much shit to carry, you and me. Unloading some of it is as good a reason as any.”

His hand drifts up your side, grazes the tattoo coiling down your arm. (The second you ever got – a big piece that took hours, Keegan never leaving your side. Nikto, Nova, and your captain periodically dropping in to provide snacks and water.)

He cups your jaw, guides your face down until your foreheads touch. You stay there, breathing him in. He smells like yours.

“What if they make it worse, huh?” His thumb caresses over your cheekbone the way it has a dozen times before, wiping away tears. “I’ll have to kill ‘em.”

You huff softly, amused. “Then kill ‘em. But I’m stronger than I was, Kee. There’s nothing they can weigh me down with that I can’t carry.”

“I know,” he whispers, tilting his chin to drop a sweet, aching kiss on your lips.

“Besides, I wouldn’t be carrying it alone anymore.”

His expression lightens, pride shining from his eyes. “Damn right.”

It’s nearly midnight when you wake from a light doze. Keegan is snoring softly, an arm and leg each hanging over the side of the bed. Your mouth is dry, but you realize it’s your stomach that woke you – pangs of hunger from picking at your dinner earlier. You need to eat.

Quiet and careful, you crawl out from beneath the sheets. Keegan is a heavy sleeper compared to the nearly supernatural senses of Nikto; he hardly stirs as you pad for the door. The hall lights are dim, but you only open it a crack to slip out.

The hall is quiet, no lights on beneath any of the other doors. You hope that means the rest of your team is sleeping peacefully. If you remember right, Nikto and Nova crawled in with your captain this evening. They’re all in good company if nightmares creep in; you pray Keegan doesn’t have any while you’re up.

Thankfully, the rec room is only two halls away. Light is spilling out as you turn the corner – there’s a sensor that shuts them off if no movement is detected for a while. Someone is either in there now or was recently. You half hope it’s the latter, but that doesn’t deter you from entering.

Your surprised to find Soap leaning against the kitchenette counter, a steaming mug in hand. His expression is flat, grim. Tired. You pause just inside the doorway.

“Might as well come in,” he says, voice low and rough. “I’ll clear out in a mo’.”

Even from where you’re standing, you can see that his cup is mostly full.

You exhale and shake your head. “Don’t have to.”

“How gracious,” he rasps, brows twitching like he wants to scowl. Like he can’t quite commit to being as bitter as he should be.

You’re too tired for your usual acid, as well. Just sigh and reach for the fridge door.

“Is that how you want this conversation to go?” you ask.

“Is this a conversation?” he replies.

You pluck out a yogurt cup. “It can be.”

He’s glaring into his coffee now, index finger tapping at the ceramic. Thinking. Or maybe just leashing all the things he wants to say but knows will drive you right back out.

“Why now?” he says finally.

You shrug. “Because I’m ready now.”

A tendon in his jaw twitches. “That’s not fair.”

A hot flicker of anger ignites in your chest. You tamp it down with a spoonful of yogurt, measuring out your words and tone.

“How do you reckon?” you inquire.

“You left,” he says. It’s been a while, but you can detect the hurt underlying the accusation. You suspect it’s something he’s wanted to say for a long time. “You left us behind.”

You click your teeth off your spoon, take a deep breath. It’s factually true. You are the one that left but—

“I wasn’t going to wait for you all to kick me out officially.”

He finally raises his eyes, a dark storm of emotion swirling within them.

“We wouldnae have.”

You tilt your head, cynicism in the flat line of your mouth. “Didn’t seem that way to me.”

“I ken you and Simon were—”

“Don’t.”

His mouth snaps shut, brows furrowed. You point at him with your spoon warningly but bite back the sharp remark on your tongue. Arguing isn’t the point here.

Settle instead to say, “Don’t speak for the others.”

There’s a beat of silence as he digests that, then finally nods. “Alright. Just you ‘n me then.”

You turn back to your yogurt, swipe up another spoonful as you reorganize your thoughts.

“I didn’t leave because of Ghost,” you begin. “Not entirely. I left because I was never part of the team. And what happened after that mission just… made it all very clear.”

Soap frowns, opens his mouth like he wants to deny it, but you hold up a finger to stop him. He takes a long sip of coffee and waits.

“You didn’t check on me at all. You weren’t there when I woke up. You never asked if I was okay,” you continue. “You were too busy being angry on Ghost’s behalf.”

“You almost got the both of you killed,” he argues.

“But you cared more about Ghost almost being hurt than the fact that I was,” you say. And dammit, you feel your sinuses burning, but your eyes stay blessedly dry. The anger disappears from his face all at once as realization sinks in. “I mattered to you less than Ghost.”

His hand tightens around his mug, knuckles blanching. “No. No, lass, tha’s no’… you were always… you survived.”

“I felt the worst I ever had in my life, but you didn’t care because I crossed the almighty Ghost,” you insist.

“I cared about you,” he denies.

“But not more than you did about Ghost.” You drag your gaze up to his. Even his eyes look a little wet now. “And that… that wasn’t enough for me.”

You suck in a shuddering breath, trying to loosen the tightness in your chest. Clear your throat once you feel the threatening prick of tears subside.

“I didn’t… it wasnae that,” he rasps. “I ken you think I’m full of shite, but ‘s true.”

You do think he’s full of shit. Maybe not on purpose, maybe he really does think he cared about you as much as Ghost, but you know better.

“I was just… so angry wi’ you,” he explains. “You could have died. Nearly got Simon killed, all because you thought you knew better.”

You exhale hard. “You’ve never made a bad call?” you challenge.

“It wasnae your call to make. You should have listened to Ghost. Instead, you—”

“I what?”

Your fingers tingle, numb. Can’t even feel the spoon, or the chill of the yogurt cup anymore.

“You disobeyed orders, it was so—”

“I didn’t.”

He stops. Stares. “What?”

You stare right back, “I didn’t disobey orders.”

First | Previous | TBC...

Masterlist

[rememberwren]

/•Harmless Fun 8•\

Former and further chapters here.

You (fem!reader) and Johnny and Simon watch a movie. CW: Fingering, handjobs, cum-eating. For @/laughroditee.

-

Sharing a bathroom with Johnny and Simon turns out to be a lot more invasive than you expected. 

It's not actually the bathroom that’s the invasive part. That is no more invasive than sharing any public space, really. You’re a little more secretive with your tampons, and they’re likely a little more stringent in their efforts to clean up after themselves. Even-Steven and all that. You’re all very careful to never even so much as knock when the door is closed, lest you disturb the person within. 

The worst part is that the bathroom can only be accessed through your bedroom. 

You had envisioned (somehow, sillily) that they would only need the bathroom during daylight hours, and likely when you weren’t home. You trusted them not to go through your belongings, but it felt so personal for Johnny to knock on your door and ask to piss when you’re dressed in your skimpy relaxing clothes (the ones you don’t even subject the rest of the apartment to). 

It felt even more personal to wake up in the night to the water running and catch Simon coming out of the bathroom twenty minutes later with dripping hair in nothing but one of his compression t-shirts and boxer-briefs. The two of you freeze at the sight of the other. He jerks a thumb toward the shower, like that explains everything. You hold up a sleepy thumbs-up, though you’re decidedly less sleepy than you were twenty minutes before you were given a front row seat to just how thick Simon’s thighs are. 

Laying in bed, smelling the steam and scent of Simon’s body wash waft gently from the bathroom, if you roll over onto your belly and slip a hand down your panties, nobody ever has to know. 

Except that’s a problem too. Your time for dedicated masturbating (not the frantic, haphazard rubbing-one-out that you’ve taken to since the other bathroom flooded) has decreased dramatically. Before, you would have felt no guilt locking the door and taking care of your own needs—but now just beyond your door was an intrinsic piece of the apartment. You couldn’t just lock your roommates out and tell Johnny or Simon to come back later. You had to be accessible.  It was a nightmare. 

Johnny was the opposite of a help. He was happy to let you rub against his cock (and more than once you’d come to one of those superficial, limb-tingling orgasms) but he was masterful at distracting you from asking for more. 

It led to some stressful days. 

Today was a bad pain day for Johnny, which had turned him sullen and taciturn. He spent most of the day stationed on the couch (finding every excuse to avoid standing up) and in charge of the remote control. It didn’t help that repairs were being done to the bathroom today, with strangers filtering in and out of the apartment. Simon hadn’t been able to go out on a single run, and you could tell that he was drawn tense as a bowstring. 

You made it a personal mission to remain in your bedroom during the repairs, anxious at the strange men in the apartment and the tense feelings tangible in the air. 

By the time dinner rolls around and the repair people are gone, you are eager to be outside of your own four walls. You can’t help craving Johnny and Simon’s company—or any company really, after an entire day spent listening to drills and hammering, feeling trapped thanks to your own social anxiety. Simon helps Johnny to the balcony and lets him smoke, the tension in his shoulders melting away some. By the time dinner rolls around, Johnny is in a better mood, and starving. 

All three of you eat at the sofa instead of the table, brushing elbows and thighs and trying not to make messes of yourselves. A cool breeze comes in with the evening, and Simon stands to shut the balcony doors. 

“Sit with me?” Johnny asks, spreading his thighs. 

You frown. “I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“Then be gentle to me, aye?” 

You sit with your back against his chest, his arms looped around you. “Jesus, yer freezing.” 

“You’re warm,” you murmur, pressing yourself more firmly against him, careful not to jostle his bad thigh. Simon takes a seat at the other end of the couch and you meet his eye accidentally—but he doesn’t look angry. There’s something surprisingly tender and fond in his gaze. He overhears your conversation and drags the duvet off the back of the couch, laying it over you both. Immediately you are swathed in warmth, melting deeper against Johnny. You loop your arms through his, keeping them wrapped securely around you. 

The three of you get sucked into a movie on the television—some of you more than others. 

It’s hard for you to focus on anything besides Johnny and the ache between your legs. Being so close to him has awoken it, stoked it from embers into a deep burn. It doesn’t help when one of his hands drifts down to grip your thigh softly, thumb stroking dangerously high on the inseam of your leggings. 

Your thighs inch open a little, hoping you can pass it off as just getting comfortable, but Johnny seems to take no notice at all, his eyes glued to the television screen. Sometimes he makes a comment to Simon about the plot, and the other man will hum in agreement. 

His other hand gets restless and slips beneath the hem of your t-shirt to rest against your belly, calloused fingertips trailing softly over smooth skin. Something must give you away—a sound or a movement—because his lips brush your ear as he whispers: “Okay?” 

You nod, not trusting your voice. You’re okay. You’re dying, but it’s fine. His thumb finds the crease of your pelvis and traces along it. You’re so sticky between your thighs that you’re sure you could hear it if you shifted too much. Something about his distracted touches make you feel combustible, like C4 in his hands. 

Johnny’s hand on your belly drifts up—you catch it with your hand. 

“‘M not wearing a bra,” you mutter. 

He snorts softly, breath ruffling your hair. “Trust me. I know,” he says. Then his thumb brushes the full softness of your breast. “Been thinking about it all night.”

“Do you two mind?” Simon says dryly, popping the soap bubble of arousal that Johnny had created around you both. You tense, shame in your belly. How horny did you have to be to be willing to let Johnny touch you on the same couch Simon was sitting on?  

“Sorry,” you mutter. 

Johnny nails him with a throw pillow in the chest, asking: “Do you mind?” 

Simon’s head turns away from the telly, the pillow resting innocuously in his lap. He’s got the darkest eyes you’ve ever seen, nearly black in the dim light. The television lights up the edge of him, throwing his features into sharp, harsh light. 

“No,” he says at length. “Play wherever you want.”

The three of you turn back toward the movie, not a single set of eyes truly watching it. With Simon’s explicit permission, Johnny’s hand comes up to cup your breast softly, thumb stroking over your puckered nipple. A sound slips from your throat—you can’t help it. 

“Pent up?” Johnny asks. You can hear the grin in his voice. 

“Be nice to me,” you mumble. 

Simon snorts softly at the other end of the sofa. Then Johnny pinches your nipple gently between his thumb and forefinger, and the pleasant ache goes straight to your clit. 

“Fuck,” you sigh. 

“Like it?” he asks. 

You nod. 

“Want more?” Your head nearly disconnects with the force of your nod. If he doesn’t touch you, you might go mad. Merciless, Johnny says: “Ask for it, and I’ll give it to you.”

You swallow, mouth dry. “Johnny…”

He hums. 

You turn your head a little, til you can see him out of the periphery of your vision. It’s on the tip of your tongue to ask for him to touch you, to kiss you maybe. But instead something more honest comes: “Johnny—do whatever you want to me.” 

 Johnny groans, burying his face in your hair. “You hearin’ her, LT?” 

“I hear.”

“Sweet as can fuckin’ be,” Johnny says, pressing the words to the soft skin beneath your ear. “Stay that sweet, no matter what I do, aye? Now watch the movie.”

You turn your eyes back to the television. It’s just a conglomeration of color and shapes that your eyes follow, but your brain doesn’t register a lick of what’s happening. All you can think about are Johnny’s hands, the way they cup your breasts. He touches you like you’re something precious, something friable and likely to come undone if he presses too firmly. He hums, a pleased little sound in the back of his throat and rolls your nipples between his fingers. 

Your thoughts leak out of your ears the longer that he toys with your body. It’s hard to sit still with how bad you need something in your pussy—you’re so turned on that it hurts. Against your back you can feel the solid line of his erection and you wish that you were in a position to get your hands on him, to map the shape of him beneath his sweatpants. 

When your mouth is dry from panting, your hands aching from the way your nails have bitten into your palms, Johnny finally smooths a hand down your tummy and cups your pussy over your leggings., your cunt a match for the burning heat of his palm. 

“Stop me if you don’t want it,” he says, coming to slip his fingertips beneath the waistband of your panties. 

“I want it—Johnny please—“ 

Simon shifts on the couch beside you both, and it draws your eyes to him, your face burning hot. He isn’t even looking at you, is instead staring at the television with a bored expression. At your movement, his eyes flicker to meet your own, and his mouth quirks at the edge. Against your will, your eyes shift down to where his cock would be visible— 

His knuckles are pale where he clenches a hold of the throw pillow in his lap. He flexes his fingers when he catches you looking, working the circulation back into them, but it’s too late to hide. Simon isn’t unaffected by this—you’d swear that he was turned on too, and the thought makes the last little whisper in your head (the one that says this is nogoodbadwrong) quiet. 

Johnny slips his hand into your underwear and finds you soaked, the fabric sodden where it drags along the back of his fingers. His cock twitches against your back. 

“Fuck, y’re wet,” he groans. “Just from having your tits played with?”

“It counts as foreplay for a reason.”

Johnny laughs, breath brushing your temple. His fingers sink into your folds before you can say anything else, stroking deep along the length of your sex which is so tender it feels like a blissful bruise. Your hips jerk upward into the touch, and his fingertips nearly slip inside you. Instead he tempers his movements, careful to follow along with the motion of your hips to keep from giving you any more stimulation than he’s ready to.

“Easy,” he breathes. “Relax—just let me play with you.”

I’ve had enough playing, you think to yourself, eyes rolling. But you work to loosen your death grip on the blankets around you, work to relax your hips until they rest back against Johnny’s cock again. 

He plays with you like this: the lightest brush of his fingertips along your vulva, spreading your wetness all over you. Sometimes his thumb will find your clit and stroke over it, but more often than not he avoids it altogether, content to play with the rest of your pussy, to coax more slick from it until his every touch is audible over the sound of the television. 

Simon must surely hear it. The thought makes you clench around nothing, an unhappy sound rising up in the back of your throat. 

Eventually, something happens to you—something breaks in you, maybe. You go soft and pliant against him, your hips still even when he slips two fingers inside you easy as anything, stroking along your walls as best as he can from this angle. Your noises are louder, too, like the muffler dampening them has rusted and worn away. When he sinks inside you, you let out a groan that has Johnny laughing softly against you. 

“Oh, she’s hungry, isn’t she? You’ve been starvin’ her, haven’t you?” 

He’s talking about your pussy. Jesus. 

“Haven’t,” you pant. “Not on purpose, I—“ 

Johnny just hushes you softly. “It’s alright. Bet you need it so bad, it hurts, don’t you?” 

You nod against his chest, tears filling your eyes, this foggy headspace amplifying your own emotions like an echo chamber. 

“I’ll make it all better,” Johnny promises. He slips his fingers free from you and drags the burning, wet warmth of them up over your clit. 

Just a few firm circles, and you’re climbing that peak, the cord in your belly drawn tighter and tighter until it snaps and sends you free falling, your back arching against Johnny’s chest. Frantic, you reach down and grip his wrist, urging his fingers lower until they slip back inside you, filling you up just right as you clench and spasm around them. The meaty part of his palm rubs against your clit and it’s enough to make you cum again before you’ve properly finished the first time, a choked gasp born and dying in your mouth as he fucks you through it with his fingers. 

Your body goes limp against him. This, this is what you needed.

Awareness filters back, your fingers cramping with the strength you use to grip Johnny’s wrist. You let him go, muttering a sorry. You admit: “It feels better to cum when there’s something inside me.” 

“I’ll remember that,” he says, voice rough. He nuzzles against your temple. Carefully, he withdraws his hand from inside your panties and holds it up to the light; he is slick all over from palm to fingertip. Fuzzy headspace gone, you have plenty of room inside now for embarrassment, your face warming as you bury it in your hands. “Jesus, make me still. You made a mess of me. Who gets them?” 

“Who—? Gets what?” 

He wiggles his fingers. You pull a face. 

“Don’t like the taste of yourself?” Johnny asks mildly. 

“Never tried it I guess,” you admit. Is that a silly thing? That you’ve never tasted your own cum? You wish you hadn’t admitted it, anxious about looking like a prude (which you are anything but, thanks. See the casual sex with your married roommate for more information) but Johnny just brushes over it like it’s nothing. 

“Would you like to?” Johnny asks. It’s on the tip of your tongue to say no, but at the last moment you decide what the hell. You open your mouth, and obligingly, Johnny feeds his first two fingers past your lips to let them rest on your tongue. It doesn’t really taste like anything—clean, a hint of musk. Feminine. Not at all what you had expected. You take Johnny’s wrist when he goes to pull away and lick his palm clean, relishing in his stuttered breath. “Converted you, didn’t I?”

“I think I converted myself, thanks.” Speaking of thanks—you toss the blanket off of you both and slip down to the floor at Johnny’s feet, turning around to rest your hands gently on his knees, hyper aware of his bad thigh. Johnny’s cock stretches his sweatpants obscenely, the fabric darkened around the head from how much he had been leaking pressed against your back. “Let me return the favor.” 

“It’s not about being reciprocal,” Johnny says smoothly. 

“Big word, Johnny,” Simon says. It makes you jolt. You had nearly forgotten that he was there—he is so quiet and still, unmoving on the other end of the sofa. God, he had watched you lick Johnny’s hand clean. The thought makes your face flush with warmth, though he seems cool and calm as anything, not repulsed like you might have expected. 

“I know a few, aye,” Johnny says, eyes rolling. He admits to you: “Math is my strong suit.” 

“Well, subtract your pants.” 

Johnny guffaws. It takes him work, wincing as pressure is placed on his bad thigh, but eventually he is able to draw his cock free, and fuck, what a cock it is. He’s uncut, thick. Just looking at him, you can tell that the stretch of him inside you would be blissful. It’s almost enough to have you aching again between the legs. 

You reach out and then hesitate. “Can I?”

“‘course you can,” he says. “Don’t take this as any representation of my stamina, I’ll have you know—“ 

“Tighter.” 

You both glance towards Simon. He’s loosened his grip on the throw pillow, though it still rests in his lap. He’s abandoned any facade of watching the television and has angled his body towards you where your hand looks downright dainty wrapped around Johnny’s cock. 

“What?” you ask him, unsure if you heard him correctly. 

He wets his lips and says: “Johnny likes a firm grip.” 

Your hand tightens, reflexively responding to the instruction, and Johnny groans above you. Precum leaks from the head, dripping down over your knuckles. 

“That’s it,” Simon says softly. “Good. Go ahead.” 

Maybe that ache between your legs wasn’t as gone as you had thought. Grip firm, you give Johnny a single, slick stroke from head to base, and it has his head lolling back against the couch cushions, his groan echoing around the apartment. 

“Don’t team up against me,” Johnny breathes. “Please, I already don’t stand a chance.” 

“Twist on the upstroke, if your wrist can manage it,” Simon says, eyes glittering as he watches your hand work over his husband. “Just like that—keep doing just that and—” 

Johnny sucks in a breath, wrenching the hem of his t-shirt up just as his cock bursts, pale seed splattering his tanned abs as his face twists with pleasure, eyes screwed tightly shut. His hips jerk upward on instinct until he hisses out a pained breath, and Simon shifts to reach out and place his broad palm over Johnny’s bare sternum, urging him into stillness as you work every last bit of cum from his cock. 

“Jesus,” he groans, palming at his eyes when you have finished. 

“Your turn,” you tease, holding up two sticky fingers to Johnny’s mouth. 

Johnny laughs. He takes your wrist—guides it towards Simon. 

You expect Simon to refuse—not because of Johnny’s cum, but because of your fingers. Simon looks like he thinks about refusing, his eyes careful as he looks over your hand and then your face, examining the slope of your brows, the raised corners of your mouth even as it likely slips into an anxious frown. He takes your wrist gently and brings your fingers to his mouth. His tongue is burning hot where it laps between your fingers. 

You stare, wide-eyed. 

Simon doesn’t stop until your hand is clean. 

[mmywanda]

Dandelion — W.M

chapter one of Forbidden Pleasure

—

Pairing: CEO!WandaMaximoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: When you decided to join your family's business, you had no idea the ceo of the rival company would be so.. alluring. men & minors dni!

Warnings: None.. yet ;)

Word count: 3.7k

A/N: My first series! I promise it’s going to get more exciting soon, this was just setting things up.

Beta read by @poulengp <3

—

You'd never been into business. Despite your family being famous for their own very successful company, Nexus. No, you preferred working in that little library, where it was quiet, and the most stressful it got was when someone returned their books too late. Why would you want to be involved in a business full of money hungry people who think of nothing but financial success?

So that was precisely what you told your father when he called you up one Saturday morning, trying to persuade you into following in the footsteps of the majority of your family. And what didn't help your case was the fact you'd be laid off from your job, as there wasn't enough funding in the library to keep all four employees.

"I don't want to be a part of it, dad, I've told you this so many times." You spoke between chews, the crunch of your slightly burnt toast echoing through the call.

"You're twenty two, (Y/N), it's time you step up and join us. You could be valuable to the team."

You rolled your eyes, "And what value would that be?" Both of you knew that you'd passed through college with barely average results, and was lucky to have found a decently paying job that didn't require better grades.

"You're good with people, we need that."

Glancing over at the small stack of bills across you on the kitchen table, you sighed. "I don't want it to change me." What if you turned into an emotionless robot? And had to work behind a desk everyday? And that desk may be on the twenty fourth level of a glass tower building?

"You won't change, I know you."

Doubt swirled around in your mind, eyes scanning the small apartment you lived in. You would have to find a job soon, though it would be difficult given your low qualifications and lack of experience. Here you were, being offered a job that would most likely be well paying.

"Fine. I'll do it."

—

The first matter of business was shopping. Your wardrobe consisted of cardigans, faded jeans, a skirt you refused to ever wear again and a few shirts that looked very outdated compared to the modern city you lived in.

Walking into a clothing store that wasn't your typical go-to was scary. You'd chosen a different one so you could find more professional outfits— because you'd probably be kicked out of the office if you were to walk in wearing your usual attire.

"May I offer you some assistance?" A woman appeared in front of you almost two seconds after you'd stepped through the automatic doors. Her eyes scanned you, as it was obvious this was your first time in that store.

You smiled, shaking your head, "No, it's okay thank you. I'm just browsing." When she left with a nod, you walked to the pants section, looking at the wide selection of styles, material and colours. You didn't even know where to begin. Eventually you decided that darker shades like grey, black or navy would be appropriate. Picking a few out, you folded them over your arm, ready for the dressing room later.

Next was shirts, that just like the pants, had a very large selection, perhaps even more. A sigh left your lips.

Twenty minutes later you'd accumulated clothing items and two pairs of shoes. It was a bit of a struggle to get to the dressing rooms, and once inside a cubicle, you dropped the pile onto the stool. Another sigh left your lips. Is this what business people went through every year? Well, probably every month, based on what you knew of business people. Granted, your only knowledge of business style was from The Office, and it wasn't like that show was renowned for its fashion sense.

Trying on a few outfits, matching different things, you decided on what you would purchase. Making your way to the cashiers, you avoided the gaze of the store assistant.

"That will be three hundred and eleven dollars, fifty cents." The cashier's bright smile almost smoothed over your shock, but not quite. Three hundred and eleven dollars?!

As much as you wanted to apologise and leave to find a store that had cheaper prices, you wouldn't be able to handle the judgemental stare of that woman. So, you got your card out and pressed it against the card reader. When it let out a double beep, indicating it hadn't been approved, you tried again, to which the cashier said, "You have to put your card in. The contactless limit is two hundred."

Your face flushed. If it wasn't obvious that you hadn't spent this much money before, it was now.

That evening, you laid on your couch, staring at the cracks in your ceiling, instant ramen in a bowl, cooling down from its boiling temperature. You thought about what would happen tomorrow, your first day in the office. Well, you knew you wouldn't have a desk job exactly, you'd be more like an assistant to any of the managers or executives— whatever that meant.

Trying to shake your mind of all the worries, you ate your ramen, despite it burning your tongue. At least it was a distraction from the overthinking anyway.

—

You woke up with a start, phone alarm blaring. Your first instinct was to sit up, but an ache in your neck forced you to pause. It seemed you'd fallen asleep on the couch, head having been in an awkward position all night. You thanked the you from yesterday who set the alarm in preparation and had placed the phone beside you.

It didn't take long to put your chosen outfit on, but what did take long was pleasing the perfectionist in you. You stood in front of the mirror for a while, adjusting your hair this way and that, fiddling with the simple silver necklace you were wearing.

"It's no big deal, (Y/N), you're not going to meet anyone important on your first day."

That's what you kept telling yourself during your journey to the office building. It took a train and a four minute walk until you reached your destination. Walking into the lobby, you were struck by how sharp, clean and unnecessarily big it was. Pale marble flooring, bright white walls, even brighter ceiling lights despite it being a sunny day outside. And the very large 'NEXUS' logo on the far wall. Your shoes squeaked against the marble, and you wondered what sort of material the soles were made out of. Perhaps the marble was made to mock people with shoes worth less than a thousand dollars.

"How may I help you?" The receptionist asked as you approached him. You smiled, masking your nerves.

"I'm (Y/N), I'm meant to be starting my job today."

He nodded quickly, suddenly sitting up straighter, you assumed because he believed he would get in trouble if he wasn't the most professional he could be in front of his boss's daughter. You then noticed his name badge that read 'Evan'.

Evan picked up the reception phone, tapping a few numbers before speaking, telling someone that you had arrived. The conversation was short.

"Take the elevator to the ninth floor, first door on the right." He pointed you in the right direction. You gave him your thanks and then found yourself inside the small metal box also known as an elevator. You hated them, though you guessed it would have to become part of your routine now.

Once arriving on the ninth floor, you examined the decor— plain walls with an occasional framed art piece (the kind that looked like a toddler had painted that would sell for millions).

Hearing distant voices coming from various closed doors, you decided dallying wouldn't make the start of shift any easier. You found the first door on the right, knocking lightly until you heard a familiar voice call out— "Come in." So you did.

The office was spacious, a desk in the middle, and seating behind it was your father. He gave you a warm smile, standing up with an outstretched hand. You mentally sighed at his usual strange way of greeting family members. You shook his hand before taking a seat in front of him.

"It's good to see you here, when was the last time you visited?" He prompted, clicking his silver pen against the table.

"A few years ago, the Christmas party."

You remembered it begrudgingly. The night you fell onto a table that happened to be seating several ice filled buckets for the champagne. Let's just say it was an extremely humiliating memory that always made you shiver. The chill of the ice had never quite escaped you.

Your father chuckled, nodding as he recalled the same night. "Ah, yes. How could I forget." You rolled your eyes, refusing to smile until he changed the subject. "Anyway, let's talk business."

He pulled out a new planner journal, handing it to you. Flicking through it, you noticed a lot of dates neatly jotted in. You gave him a questioning look.

"My assistant kindly added important dates and meetings."

Your eyes widened slightly, "I'm going to join meetings?" That was something you hadn't expected.

"As a note taker, for now." His expression showed how keen he was for you to progress in your role and reach a high position in the company on your own. He wasn't going to get you a higher job just because you were his kid.

Scanning the dates written down for the current week, you saw there was a meeting scheduled for today. Anxiety immediately bubbled inside you at the thought of being in such a professional setting with equally professional people, as an inexperienced ex-librarian.

"Don't worry, (Y/N). It's not a huge deal." He hesitated, before correcting himself. "Okay, it is a big deal."

You groaned, leaning back in the chair that you had to admit was very uncomfortable. "What is it about? Stock shares or something?" It was very obvious that you pulled the term out of your very limited knowledge on business that lived in the back of your brain, because your father's eyebrows creased in amusement.

"It's our annual meeting with Maximoff Industries. And let's just say our companies have difficulty clicking."

The name 'Maximoff Industries' was familiar. You knew that they created things in the technology area, and as it so happened, Nexus did too, so it was no wonder they didn't 'click'.

"How do they normally go?" You had to gauge how terrible the experience would be for you. Scenarios ran through your mind, the most rational being; raised tones, interrupted sentences, perhaps even a few cold glares (gasp).

"We have a small partnership in a few products, so the disagreements normally stem from financial shares, and what name is listed first under the annual report. It normally ends in a handshake though." He attempted a smile, but it was clear that he had a very strong distaste for Maximoff Industries. "It doesn't help that their CEO, Wanda Maximoff is a.. difficult person to get along with in terms of business."

"Why?" You asked, wanting to know what to expect in the meeting, even if you were going to be sitting in the corner.

Your father sighed, leaning back in his chair. "She's.." He thought for a long hard moment. "She has this look, like she knows more than you, like she's superior. And she very obviously craves control over every situation without explicitly expressing it. It's infuriating, but hard to explain."

It didn't seem like much to go on; having a certain expression and craving control. Wasn't that a description of half of the earth's population?

Your father checked his watch, "It's going to start in twenty minutes." You internally panicked, because you hadn't expected things to start so soon. He smiled kindly, leaning forward in his chair a bit.

"It's okay, (Y/N), you're not going to be talking." That didn't exactly reassure you, because it meant you would have to maintain a calm act in case anyone looked your way.

"Alright, let's do this." Faking positivity was the first step, right?

—

The meeting room was empty when you and other representatives from Nexus walked in, including your father. They all took their seats, presumably their allocated ones. There was a chair set aside from the very long table, which you guessed was for you. Sliding it backwards a bit, you sat, spending a very awkward minute trying to decide how to position your legs. Should you cross them or not? Before you could come to a decision, you heard people entering the room.

You looked up, counting five very professional looking businesspeople. Thinking that was all, you opened your notebook, until you sensed one last presence. Glancing across the room, a woman entered.

She was dressed in a black suit, white shirt and heels. Hair brunette with lighter streaks, eyes a deep shade of green. But the overriding feature of this woman was her aura. Everyone in the room fell silent, most of the Nexus members seemed to have a polite but forced smile.

"Ms Maximoff, it's good to see you." Your father announced, making a small gesture with his hand to indicate for the woman to sit at the opposite end of the table— although she'd already done so.

"Yes, it's a pleasure, Julian." Wanda Maximoff replied, her tone smooth, with an underlying accent you hadn't heard before. It was very alluring all the same. You noticed she'd addressed your father by his first name.

"How have you been? I heard y—" Your father began, until he was cut off.

"Let's just get to business, shall we?" Wanda's hands rested on top of the table, revealing her many intricate and no doubt expensive silver rings.

"Oh, yes." Julian cleared his throat, gesturing to his coworker, a manager to start the presentation. You tried your best to quickly note down the points the manager was making, including comments from the other company.

But you felt your attention slipping, because from your angle, Wanda Maximoff was just to the left of the presentation screen. You were inexplicably drawn to her, the way she held herself, and not to mention her immense beauty.

You were suddenly startled when the face you were staring at turned, green eyes locking with yours. All oxygen left your lungs, not from panic of being caught staring during a professional meeting, but because Wanda Maximoff was piercing. Though her head tilted back to the presentation. Finally you were able to breathe, fingers gripping the notebook edges.

"So what's the point of decreasing the amount of products manufactured if it's in high demand?" Wanda questioned, leaning back in her seat slightly, directing the question towards your father instead of the manager.

He paused, thinking through his answer before replying. "Retailers are going to be bidding higher prices in order to stock it."

Wanda Maximoff's eyebrows quirked, a slight upturn of her lips now revealing to you what your father had described earlier; The Look. It indeed felt like she was in control, as if she was negotiating a deal with a child.

"Why don't we ask someone else's opinion?" Wanda's eyes snapped to you. Horror rushed through you as everyone followed Wanda's directed stare. All eyes were on you.

You felt your face heat up, having absolutely no idea what to say or do other than look towards your father helplessly. He nodded his head, as if urging me to speak so they could move on quickly.

"Uh—" Words were failing you. Wanda's expression shifted from expectancy to amusement. She was enjoying your embarrassment, it seemed. "I think it could work.. people tend to want to buy things that are exclusive." You didn't have anything to base that opinion on, but you hoped it sounded more certain than it did in your head.

Wanda's stare remained on you for a few agonising seconds before nodding once, accepting your answer. "Let's take ten, my team need to discuss this." Everyone nodded quickly in agreement. The Nexus members waited for the others to leave the room, but they didn't. Your father let out a very quiet but infuriated sigh at Wanda's blank though slightly smug expression . He stood, muttering to everyone to leave with him, including you. You'd never exited a room so quickly.

Once you were a few metres down the corridor, you exhaled, leaning against the wall, the conversation between your company distant to your ears. You were busy calming down from the humiliation. You hadn't felt this way since falling into a table with ice buckets in this very building.

Why had Wanda singled you out? Surely she knew how uncomfortable that would be for someone who was clearly new.

You needed water. Luckily you knew of the staff lounge that had a supply of refreshments.

The 'lounge' was thankfully empty, consisting of several pristine couches and counter with a kettle and an array of coffees and teas. You headed towards the water cooler. Grabbing a small paper cup, you flicked on the switch for the water to start filling the cup slowly. It was when it reached the halfway mark that you were startled by a voice.

"It's an interesting opinion that you have."

You spun around, facing Wanda Maximoff. It was hard to breathe again.

"Do you know a lot about consumer behaviour?" She asked, emerald eyes fixed on yours. The question stunned you for a moment, not entirely understanding. But you'd done enough reading to be able to guess what her words meant.

"Not really, I just notice what people around me seem to buy." Good, you're doing good— you told yourself.

"You don't do the buying?" She asked, head slightly tilted to the side.

You let out a nervous chuckle, shaking your head. "Oh, no. I'm the type to keep something until it's completely incapable of doing its job." For example; your toaster.

Wanda's lips twitched into a smile that almost felt like a smirk. "That's an unfortunate attitude to have when you're working in this industry." You swallowed, throat feeling very dry as you still hadn't had that water yet. Wanda seemed to finally notice the cup in your hand.

"Drink."

The simple word felt like a command, and you found yourself raising your cup without hesitation and taking a gulp of water. It felt like a relief to your dry throat. The woman's smile was now definitely a smirk, though what she was smirking at, you didn't know.

"I haven't seen you around here before. When did you start?" The question was a simple one, but the way Wanda delivered it made it seem a lot more important, like she actually interested.

You were just glad it was an easy one to answer. "Today, actually."

She nodded slowly, "You're Julian's daughter?"

"Yeah, he's wanted me here for a while, and I needed a job." You had to tell yourself to just chill out, because you were starting to overthink your answers, despite there being no need to.

Wanda reached a hand out to tuck some of her hair behind her ear, inadvertently directing your attention to her hands. The silver rings shaped her fingers perfectly, the dark red varnish on her nails standing out as they brushed against her hair. You swallowed, forcing yourself to look away.

"Those plants look half dead."

Your eyebrows raised at her very random statement. Since when did plants become a part of the conversation? You went along with it, noticing the few potted plants and vases with flowers that did look very wilted.

"Do you know the name of that one?" Wanda pointed to a specific plant, green leaves and yellow flowers. You knew nothing about plants.

"Tulip?" It was more of a question than an answer. Wanda let out a chuckle at your painfully wrong answer. She shook her head in amusement.

"Dandelion." She stated, suddenly studying you with some type of curiosity and intrigue. "You remind me of a dandelion."

Your expression was quizzical, wondering why a yellow flower could be associated to you in any kind of way. "Why?"

Wanda smiled mysteriously, carefully leaving the question unanswered as she checked her watch. You could tell by the watch strap alone that it was probably worth more than your student debt. "The break is over." And with that, she began walking away, her heels clicking against the floor. You were stunned for a few seconds before snapping out of it. Realising that the cup was still in your hand, you threw it away, walking as quickly as you could back to the meeting room without embarrassing yourself.

Everyone was in the room by the time you'd survived the walk back. You kept your eyes down and sat in your corner (of shame). The conversations started again, and you tried your best, yet again, to make notes. It was a bit easier to concentrate as Wanda hadn't done any talking yet.

It was boring, really, listening to your father and Maximoff Industries' representatives disagree on very simple things like the font for whatever the damn products they wanted to sell.

Finally, Wanda spoke up after listening to the conversation she appeared to have found just as boring as you had. "Let's do it. Less products for higher sales, as ridiculous as it sounds. Though, something would have to be put in place.”

You glanced up from your notebook, pen hovering above the page. Even Wanda’s own coworkers seemed confused.

“I will have regular meetings with a representative from Nexus, just so I can keep up to date with your side of this new decision.”

You could practically see the cogs in your father’s brain whirring, as he probably didn’t know now if this new idea would be a mistake. He cleared his throat. “Okay, I’ll look at my schedu—“

“It will be (Y/N).” Wanda stated clearly. Once again, you found all attention on you. You were just as bewildered as the other surprised faces.

“Me?” You uttered, cheeks flushed at the idea of Wanda Maximoff wanting to meet you again.

A smile twitched on your lips as she studied you from across the room. You felt the presences around you fade away when your eyes locked with green ones. She spoke in a slow but deliberate way, “You will accept, won’t you?”

Without thinking twice, you simply replied, “Yes.”

—

[bbina]

between the lines masterlist

ᯓ★ SYNOPSIS.ᐟ from what started as a simple arrangement to hide your feelings for a certain someone by getting into in a fake relationship soon turns into a tangled mess. in which some things are hard to tell when you can’t read between the lines

ᯓ★ PAIRING.ᐟ park wonbin x reader

ᯓ★ GENRE.ᐟ fluff, angst, crack | 𖡎 – written portions

ᯓ★ STATUS.ᐟ completed.

ᯓ★ TAGLIST.ᐟ closed (limit)

ᯓ★ NOTES.ᐟ first riize smau! bbina is cooking with this one i fear... this fic will contain nsfw themes somewhere along the way and some kys jokes, etc. happy reading! also if you want to be added to the taglist make sure your blog is visible for me to be able to tag you

˗ˏˋ ★ CHAPTERS ★ ˎˊ˗ ☆ INTRODUCTION ☆ ONE ⊹₊ ⋆ do what you must ☆ TWO ⊹₊ ⋆ 𖡎 last minute rain checks ☆ THREE ⊹₊ ⋆ national museum of korea ☆ FOUR ⊹₊ ⋆ 𖡎 campfire ☆ FIVE ⊹₊ ⋆ chemistry ☆ SIX ⊹₊ ⋆ 𖡎 first day on the job ☆ SEVEN ⊹₊ ⋆ shock factor ☆ EIGHT ⊹₊ ⋆ 𖡎 yet ☆ NINE ⊹₊ ⋆ soft launch ☆ TEN ⊹₊ ⋆ thanks for the support ☆ ELEVEN ⊹₊ ⋆ 𖡎 pillow talk ☆ TWELVE ⊹₊ ⋆ 𖡎 count your days ☆ THIRTEEN ⊹₊ ⋆ wasn't part of the plan ☆ FOURTEEN ⊹₊ ⋆ 𖡎 why does it matter ☆ FIFTEEN ⊹₊ ⋆ just be with me ☆ SIXTEEN ⊹₊ ⋆ seoul bound ☆ SEVENTEEN ⊹₊ ⋆ more than welcome ☆ EIGHTEEN ⊹₊ ⋆ 𖡎 trust me ☆ NINETEEN ⊹₊ ⋆ newly improved fake boyfriend 2.0 ☆ TWENTY ⊹₊ ⋆ only my girl ☆ TWENTY ONE ⊹₊ ⋆ next date ☆ TWENTY TWO ⊹₊ ⋆ 𖡎 for my eyes only ☆ TWENTY THREE ⊹₊ ⋆ care package ☆ TWENTY FOUR ⊹₊ ⋆ too early ☆ TWENTY FIVE ⊹₊ ⋆ not like this ☆ TWENTY SIX ⊹₊ ⋆ two months later ☆ TWENTY SEVEN ⊹₊ ⋆ 𖡎 long way home ☆ TWENTY EIGHT ⊹₊ ⋆ 𖡎 thank you ☆ TWENTY NINE ⊹₊ ⋆ fake idgafer ☆ THIRTY ⊹₊ ⋆ 𖡎 boundaries ☆ THIRTY ONE ⊹₊ ⋆ could've had it all ☆ THIRTY TWO ⊹₊ ⋆ out of habit ☆ THIRTY THREE ⊹₊ ⋆ 𖡎 time ☆ THIRTY FOUR ⊹₊ ⋆ deja vu ☆ THIRTY FIVE ⊹₊ ⋆ operation: ynbin ☆ THIRTY SIX ⊹₊ ⋆ it's bad for the both of them ☆ THIRTY SEVEN ⊹₊ ⋆ stories write themselves ☆ THIRY EIGHT ⊹₊ ⋆ 𖡎 ulsan ☆ THIRTY NINE ⊹₊ ⋆ 𖡎 drunken words ☆ FOURTY ⊹₊ ⋆ 𖡎 sober thoughts ☆ FOURTY ONE ⊹₊ ⋆ disappointed ☆ FOURTY TWO ⊹₊ ⋆ 𖡎 afternoon bliss (M) ☆ FOURTY THREE ⊹₊ ⋆ 𖡎 we are so back ☆ FOURTY FOUR ⊹₊ ⋆ what are we ☆ FOURTY FIVE ⊹₊ ⋆ 𖡎 wouldn't have it in any other way ☆ FOURTY SIX ⊹₊ ⋆ new boyfriend lore ☆ FOURTY SEVEN ⊹₊ ⋆ texting and driving ☆ FOURTY EIGHT ⊹₊ ⋆ 𖡎 dior her ☆ FOURTY NINE ⊹₊ ⋆ 𖡎 you’re all i’ll ever want and need ☆ FIFTY ⊹₊ ⋆ between the lines

⋆.˚—̳͟͞͞★ asks | lore | official playlist ₊⊹

[itneverendshere]

you said i have to trust more freely - r.c series (six)

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader; word count: 5.5k requested here; (one); (two); (three); (four); (five)

Being with Rafe was surprisingly easy, like slipping into a routine you didn’t know you’d been craving. It wasn’t over-the-top or dramatic; it was just normal—in the way that holding hands and sharing glances in crowded classrooms felt like the most natural thing in the world.

The guy who used to get under your skin, drive you absolutely crazy, and somehow, now, was making you melt with just one look? You didn’t know when your life turned into a rom-com, but you were pretty sure Rafe missed the part where he was supposed to stop being so intense the second the credits rolled. 

But, no. He was always like this now. Kisses in between classes, pulling you into him like he’d forget how to breathe if you stepped too far away. And you were starting to crave it. The constant closeness, the feel of his hands on you.

Today, it was more of the same—Rafe slipping into the seat next to you during a boring afternoon lecture, sliding his arm around you like it was his assigned spot. Like he belonged there. You had barely settled in before he was leaning in close, his mouth brushing your temple in a casual, absentminded kiss.

“Didn’t you just see me twenty minutes ago?” you teased, glancing up at him.

“Yeah, and?” He didn’t bother to look up at the professor as he trailed his fingers down your arm, sending goosebumps in their wake.

“And,” you whispered, fighting to keep your smile in check, “maybe we should try to pay attention?”

He glanced down at you, that half-smirk playing on his lips. “You really wanna listen to this guy talk about the English 18th-century economic policies, or do you wanna tell me what you’re doing after class?”

“Rafe—”

“—Because I’m thinking we grab coffee and maybe—”

“Shhh!” you hissed, your cheeks heating when you realized a few people in front of you were turning around to look. You shot him a pointed look, mouthing, You’re going to get us kicked out.

He just grinned wider, completely unbothered, and leaned back in his seat, looking more amused than ever. “Fine, fine,” he whispered. “But only ‘cause you’re cute when you’re pretending to be all serious.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, settling back against him instead. It should have felt weird, being so openly affectionate like this, but somehow, it didn’t. You knew people were watching, whispering even—Is that really Rafe with her? Didn’t they used to, like, hate each other?—but he made it all feel so… normal. 

He still made it impossible to focus, not dropping his touch from your skin.

“Are you even listening?”

“Not even a little.”

You rolled your eyes, fighting the grin threatening to break free. “You’re going to fail if you keep staring at me.”

He leaned closer, “Worth it. Plus I got a hot tutor to help me out.”

There it was again—that fluttery feeling in your stomach, the one that always seemed to come alive whenever he looked at you like that. You shifted in your seat, your leg brushing against his, and he tightened his grip on you, almost as if he knew what he was doing to you.

“Pay attention, Cameron.”

“Make me,” he shot back, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“Rafe,” you looked around to make sure no one was watching. But of course, a few heads were already turned in your direction. People had started noticing the two of you—how he was always leaning closer, how his arm would always be slung around your shoulders whenever you sat together.

Just as you were about to elbow him the professor started handing back quizzes—the ones you both knew were worth 50% of your eventual final grade.

You were nervous, but not just for yourself. You knew how much these grades meant to Rafe. He wasn’t one to show it, but you could tell. He used to barely scrape by with D’s before you two started your deal. You’d spent so many nights going over chapters together, sometimes until the early hours of the morning, and you were hoping it all paid off. The professor reached your row, placing the papers face down on the desk in front of you and Rafe. You glanced at yours first—an A, not bad. But when you turned your head to peek at his, you froze.

B.

Rafe had gotten a B.

You almost let out an excited squeal right there in the middle of the lecture hall but stopped yourself just in time. You turned to him, eyes wide, a huge grin spreading across your face. “Rafe, look!”

He was already smirking, casually flipping his paper back over, but you could tell he was trying to hide how pleased he was. “Yeah, I saw,” he said, all laid-back like it was no big deal. But the spark in his eyes said otherwise.

“B!” you tried to keep your voice as low as possible, but you couldn’t help it. “You’ve never gotten a B in this class!”

Last quiz he’d gotten a C, which was better... but a B in the last three quizzes? That was something.

“Thanks for the reminder,” he teased, nudging you with his shoulder, “Told you I’d get it together.”

“I told you you’d get it together,” you corrected.

He rolled his eyes, but you could see he was proud of himself. “And I told you I got a pretty good tutor, huh?”

You nudged him playfully. “Pretty good? You mean the best.”

You felt your heart swell at the look on his face. It wasn’t just about the grade—it was about the effort, the late-night study sessions, and the fact that he did care, even if he pretended not to. 

But his touching was even worse between classes.

The second the lecture ended, he was on his feet, gathering his stuff with that effortless, laid-back confidence that made it seem like he wasn’t in a rush, even though you knew he couldn’t wait to get out of there.

“Ready?” He didn’t bother waiting for you to answer, just slipped his hand into yours and pulled you gently toward the door.

Out in the hallway, he barely gave you a second to find your footing before pulling you in close, his hand lifting to cradle your face as he pressed a kiss to your lips. Your pulse jumped, and you felt the familiar rush of heat rise to your cheeks, even though you should be used to it by now.

“Rafe,” you mumbled, feeling a little sheepish when he finally pulled back.

“What?” He gave you an innocent look that didn’t match the way his eyes were sparkling. “Can’t a guy kiss his soon-to-be- girlfriend after suffering through a lecture?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, trying to look stern but failing miserably. “You know half the hallway is staring, right?”

“Let them.” He shrugged nonchalantly, lacing his fingers with yours like it was no big deal. Like being with you like this—in front of everyone—wasn’t the huge deal it still felt like to you. 

The moment you paused by your locker, his hands were on your waist, spinning you to face him.

“Finally,” he murmured, dipping his head down to catch your lips in a kiss that was too much tongue and entirely too distracting for a busy hallway.

“Cameron,” you mumbled against his mouth, your fingers curling around his biceps. “We’re gonna be late.”

He hummed, lips not leaving yours. “Worth it,” he muttered, his hands sliding up your back, pressing you closer. “Always worth it.”

Your heart did a little flip, but you pulled back just enough to give him a look. “You said that in class, too.”

He grinned, looking completely unrepentant. “Yeah, and I meant it then, too.”

Your cheeks heated, and you shot him a half-hearted glare, hoping it covered up the way your purse sped up at the way he was looking at you.

The days blended together like that—Rafe’s hand on you somewhere always—whether it was his arm slung around your waist as you walked to class, his thumb brushing little circles on your knee when you were sitting across from each other in the library, or just… holding your hand, like he needed to feel your skin against his.

You were starting to forget what it felt like to not have him touching you. And maybe that should have scared you a little, but it didn’t. It was nice, easy. The way he’d press a kiss to your forehead before slipping into his own class, whisper something low and teasing when he caught you blushing, smirking at the way you tried to hide your smile.

After a long afternoon of half-hearted studying—thanks to Rafe’s wandering hands and that stupidly distracting grin—you found yourself back in your dorm room, tucked against him on your tiny bed, with a movie you weren’t even pretending to watch playing softly in the background.

It was cozy, almost too cozy. You’d ditched your jeans for a pair of shorts and borrowed one of his hoodies that still smelled faintly like him, and Rafe was propped up against the headboard, his legs tangled with yours. The smell of popcorn lingered in the air, but the bowl had been abandoned on your desk, long forgotten as you focused on something infinitely better.

Him.

You were still breathless from the last round of his kisses—his lips trailing down your neck, his thumb grazing against the line of your jaw as if he were memorizing it. And then his mouth had moved lower, his teeth nipping at your collarbone until you’d let out an embarrassingly needy sound that had him pulling back, smirking.

“What?” you’d huffed, feeling your cheeks flush.

“Nothing,” he’d murmured, “Just love seeing you like this.”

Like this?

You didn’t even know what he meant. All you knew was that he hadn’t stopped looking at you like that since, his eyes following every curve of your face, lingering on the way your lips parted as you tried to get your breathing under control.

“Focus,” you’d said, half-laughing, half-gasping. “We’re supposed to be studying.”

“Pretty sure I was learning a lot,” he’d countered as he ran a hand down your side, “Like how you’re really ticklish right here.” 

And then his fingers had dug into your side, making you squirm and giggle, batting his hand away until you’d ended up tangled even closer together, his mouth pressing quick kisses along your cheek until you finally gave in, letting him kiss you again.

That’s how you’d ended up here now—his arm slung around your shoulders, his other hand playing with the ends of your hair as you half-watched whatever movie he’d picked. His chest was warm and solid against your back, and every now and then, he’d press a kiss to your hair.

“You’re gonna miss the whole movie,” he teased lightly, his voice rumbling against your ear.

“You’re the one who distracted me,” you pointed out, turning slightly to give him a look. “What was I supposed to do?”

“Hmm, fair,” he agreed, grinning lazily as his fingers traced random patterns on your thigh. “But I think I’d rather kiss you anyway.”

 “You’re ridiculous.”

“Only for you,” And there it was again—that look, the one that made your breath hitch and your heart do a funny little backflip.

It was so easy to lose track of time like this—getting lost in him, the way his eyes softened whenever he looked at you, the warmth of his hand against your skin. You didn’t know how long you lay there, just soaking it all in, until he moved a little, turning slightly so he was looking right at you.

“Hey,” he reached up to brush a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Hey,” you whispered back, blinking up at him. He hesitated for a second and then he took a deep breath, looking way too serious for what you’d expected on a lazy night like this.

“Can I ask you something?” his thumb brushed softly against your cheek.

“Yeah, of course.”

“I, um…” He paused, looking almost… nervous? But that didn’t make sense. This was Rafe Cameron—the guy who never seemed fazed by anything. “I was thinking… I mean, we’ve been… you know.”

You blinked at him, trying to understand where he was going with this. “Rafe, you’re not making any sense.”

He let out a breathless laugh, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe himself. 

“Right, sorry.” He looked down for a second, then met your eyes again, “I was just wondering if… if you’d want to be my girlfriend. Officially.”

Rafe? Nervous? Asking if you’d want to be his girlfriend? As if that wasn’t already painfully obvious.

You pressed your lips together, trying not to burst into a cackle as you pretended to think it over. “Hmmm…” you started slowly, watching the way his brow furrowed, like he was already second-guessing himself. “I dunno…”

He blinked, his grip on your waist tightening slightly. “Wait, unless you don’t want to? Because if that’s the case, I’m sorry—like, we don’t have to—”

“Rafe.” You cut him off, watching as his eyes darted between yours, full-on panicking now.

“I just thought… you know, since we’re always hanging out… and the kisses, I mean—unless you think they’re weird? I’m sorry, stop looking at me like that, please.”

You finally let out the laugh you’d been holding in.

“Really? You’re laughing at me now?”

“Cameron,” you said through a chuckle, “I’m already basically your girlfriend. You didn’t have to ask.”

He raised an eyebrow, pretending to look offended. “I’m being a gentleman here, okay? I—I know, okay? I know this isn’t the way people usually do it,” he rambled, suddenly looking adorably flustered. “I was going to do some big, stupid gesture, maybe show up with flowers or whatever, but… I thought about it, and I know you hate surprises, so I didn’t want to make a whole thing out of it and freak you out.” He paused, taking another deep breath, his hand tightening slightly around yours. “But I couldn’t wait anymore,” he admitted. “I just— I want it to be real. I want to be able to call you mine. For real.”

This wasn’t a casual question. This wasn’t some flirty comment in the hallway, something he could brush off if you didn’t react the way he wanted. He was serious. Completely, terrifyingly serious.

 “You really—?”

“Yes,” he said immediately, leaning forward, “I really want this. You and me. No more of this ‘are-they-or-aren’t-they’ crap.”

The smile that spread across your face was blinding, “Okay. I’ll say yes for your sake.”

And then, he was kissing you—hard and fast and completely giddy, like he couldn’t believe it.

“God, you’re gonna make me crazy,” he murmured against your mouth, his hands cradling your face like he couldn’t get close enough. “My girl. You’re actually my girl.”

The second his lips were on yours again, all coherent thoughts went flying out of your head. It was like his mouth had some kind of superpower over you. t made everything else—every little doubt and worry—just… disappear. 

“Oh my God, no. Wait. Tell me,” you said, sitting up a little so you could look at him better. “When did you realize you had feelings for me?”

Rafe’s hand was still brushing against your thigh as he looked down at you. “Like… three weeks into our deal.”

 “Three weeks?!”

“Yeah,” he said it casually, like he hadn’t just dropped that little bomb on you. “We were about three weeks in. You were still going on about Nate, and I was, I don’t know. I started getting annoyed anytime you brought him up.”

You stared at him, trying to wrap your head around that. “So, while I was trying to figure out how to get Nate to like me, you were just… what? Secretly into me?”

He snickered, leaning back against the headboard, looking way too relaxed for someone who’d kept his feelings a secret for months.

“Pretty much.”

“You were such an ass to me back then,” you pointed out, still kind of shocked.

“Yeah, because I didn’t know what the hell to do with how I was feeling,” he admitted, “We acted like we hated each other for years. I didn’t just wake up one day and go, ‘Oh, maybe I like her.’ It took me a minute to figure it out.”

You were still processing. Three weeks in? That was barely when you started realizing he wasn’t the worst person in the world.

“So, what, you just... didn’t say anything?”

Rafe gave you a look, like you should’ve known better. “Of course not. What was I supposed to say? ‘Hey, I know we’ve spent most of our lives hating each other, but now I’m kind of into you’?” He shook his head. “Besides, you were still all hung up on Nate.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands for a second. “Oh my God. That’s so embarrassing.”

“Nah,” he said, laughing softly as he pulled your hands away from your face. “It’s kinda cute, honestly. You had no idea.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “You really waited until I was over my Nate phase to make a move, didn’t you?”

“Yup. I was patient,” he said, leaning in and pressing a quick kiss to your lips. “I was better for you anyway.”

Rafe was still so close, his lips hovering just above yours like he was waiting for you to make the move. But you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction—not yet. “You think you’re better for me, huh?”

 “I know I am.”

You didn’t even have time to roll your eyes before he kissed you again, slowly at first, almost teasing, until his hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you in closer. The way his lips moved against yours, the little rasp he let out when you kissed him back harder—it nearly sent your heart into cardiac arrest.

And then you ruined it. Because then, like always, that stupid little voice crept in. The one that wouldn’t just let you be happy. Yeah, it was perfect now, in your tiny dorm room where it was just the two of you and the outside world didn’t exist. But next week, you’d both be going home for spring break. And that voice kept whispering what you didn’t want to think about.

Back home, it wouldn’t just be the two of you anymore. No more bubble. Just the island. And everyone on it. All the stupid expectations and labels and… baggage.

Because you were you, the pogue girl who worked summers and knew every corner of The Cut like the back of her hand. And he was Rafe Cameron. Kook royalty. The guy who used to make it his personal mission to remind you of that difference every chance he got.

His friends? They were probably still the same assholes who’d laughed about it like you were something beneath them. What if they still did?

And what if—God, what if—he started to see it like that again too? Realize that all this wasn’t worth the hassle? He was always so sure here, like the past didn’t matter, like he wasn’t even that guy anymore, but… what if being back there, where everyone knew who you really were… changed things?

You pulled back slightly, just enough to break the kiss. He made a low, disappointed sound, eyes opening and immediately locking on yours, his hand still holding your jaw. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you lied, “I’m just… I keep thinking about… going home.”

His brows drew together, “What about it?”

“It’s just… things are different there,” you looked away even though his hand was gently turning your face back toward him.

“Different how?” he pressed, like he needed to figure out what was going on in your head.

“You know.” You bit your lip, taking a shaky breath. “You’re Rafe Cameron, Rafe. And I’m… I’m just—”

His jaw clenched, his fingers stilling against your skin. “No. Stop,” he said softly but firmly. “You’re not ‘just’ anything.”

“It’s true, though! I’m still that pogue girl to them. Your friends, your people—Kooks—they’re gonna look at me and see exactly what they used to. And even if they don’t say it, they’re thinking it. I can feel it, Rafe. And you—” You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to meet his eyes. “You can’t pretend that won’t matter.”

Suddenly, he was sitting up, practically towering over you, “Are you kidding me? You think I give a shit what they think?”

You blinked up at him, “Rafe—”

“No, seriously,” he went on, cutting you off, his hand still cradling your face like he was afraid you’d run if he let go. “I don’t care what they think. I don’t care what anyone thinks. I care about you.” He leaned closer, his eyes blazing as he held your gaze. “I’m not that guy anymore. I’m not… that Rafe.”

“But what if—”

“No ‘what ifs,’” he murmured, shaking his head, his thumb brushing over your cheek like he was wiping away an invisible tear. “I’m done pretending. I’m done worrying about who’s watching or what they’re saying. I don’t want to hide this. I don’t want to hide you. I’m not ashamed, okay?”

Your chest tightened painfully. “But what if being back there—”

“Baby, baby, baby,” he cut you off, voice soft but so steady, like he was trying to pull you back to him. “No. Don’t do this. I’m not letting you talk yourself out of this.” He leaned in, his forehead gently bumping against yours. “When I say I want you, I mean I want all of you. Here, home, everywhere. I want to show up with you at every party, every stupid get-together, holding your hand and daring anyone to say a word about it.”

Your breath hitched, feeling stupid tears prick at your eyes, “You—You really mean that?”

“I’m not going anywhere. Home changes nothing. We’re still us. You’re still mine.”

You felt a tear slip down your cheek, and he brushed it away, his lips hovering over yours.

“Promise?” 

“Promise.”

You were a goner after that.

Completely lost in the feel of his tongue slipping past your lips, his fingers teasing at the hem of your shirt. Your heart was practically doing somersaults when you pulled him closer, your nails scraping lightly across his bare back.

“Rafe,” you breathed, your voice barely more than a sigh as his hands roamed up under your top, fingertips skimming along the sensitive skin of your ribs. He made a low, satisfied sound against your lips, his grip tightening just enough to make you want to eat him whole. His thumbs brushed the underside of your bra, and you arched into him, chasing the touch like you were starved for it.

“Baby, you have no idea what you do to me,” he practically cooed, his voice all gravelly and wrecked as his mouth traced down the side of your neck, peppering kisses. “So fucking perfect—”

You tugged his hair lightly, just enough to make him look up at you again, a devilish smirk pulling at his lips. “You know, you’re supposed to be watching the movie,” you teased, breathless, not even pretending to sound convincing.

“Movie’s boring,” he purred, his hands slipping higher, thumb tracing over the lace of your bra. “I’m a lot more interested in you, pretty girl.”

Before you could even think of a comeback, his mouth was on yours again, needier this time. He kissed you like he was desperate, one of his hands sliding back down, gripping your waist as he dragged you onto his lap, and you could feel every lean muscle of his chest, the solid heat of his body pressed up against you. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer as he grabbed a handful of your ass, holding you to him like you were the only thing that mattered.

You made a small, breathy sound as he explored your mouth, his hand sliding into your hair, cradling your face as he angled you just right, and you instinctively leaned into him, waiting more. He tilted your chin up slightly, and his tongue slid against yours, slick and probing, your mouths moving together in soft gasps and heavy breaths. It was like nothing you’d ever felt before. You couldn’t believe this was the same guy who had been your first kiss just a month ago. You knew—knew—that if you kept this up, if you didn’t stop—

The door burst open.

“I swear, if I ever see that asshole again, I’m going to— Oh. Oh.”

You whipped around to see Ava standing in the doorway, looking like she was ready to throw hands, in all her pissed-off, storming-in glory. She was still wearing her cute little date outfit—red crop top, high-waisted jeans—but her hair was kind of a mess, and her lipstick was smudged, like she’d been fuming the entire walk over. 

Rafe’s lips were swollen, red, a little glossy, and his hair was a mess from your fingers. But did he look embarrassed? Even the slightest bit ashamed that you’d just been caught practically swallowing each other’s faces?

Absolutely not. 

But what made you actually gape was the fact that fact Ava didn’t even blink at the sight of you straddling Rafe, his shirt completely off, your own top halfway up your ribs. Instead, she just waved her hand dismissively, like she couldn’t care less that she’d just walked in on a borderline soft-core porno scene. 

“What happened?” you asked, your voice still breathless as you tried to act like you hadn’t been moments away from letting him do whatever he wanted to you.

“I was saying—this fucker had the nerve to tell me that he thinks women shouldn’t split the bill because they don’t work as hard. Like, what the actual fuck?”

Rafe let out a loud, frustrated groan against your shoulder, his forehead dropping onto your collarbone as he muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

You smothered a giggle, trying and failing to glare at him while Ava, completely oblivious, kept right on ranting.

“Seriously, I should’ve just walked out then and there, but noooo, I thought, be nice, Ava, don’t make a scene. And what does this prick do?” She threw her hands up, pacing back and forth as you slowly—very awkwardly—slipped off Rafe’s lap, tugging your hoodie back into place.

“Uh… what?” you asked, doing your absolute best to sound normal while Rafe buried his face against your neck, his shoulders shaking as he mumbled, “She’s such a fucking cockblock,” against your skin. You smacked the back of his head lightly, biting your lip to keep from laughing.

“Shh,” you hissed at him, and he just grumbled something unintelligible, his lips still grazing your shoulder.

“Anyway!” Ava continued, still blissfully unaware. “The asshole pulls out coupons. Like, actual physical coupons. And then he tries to use one to get a free dessert, but surprise, surprise, it’s expired, so what does he do? Blames me. Me! Like I’m the one who asked to go to a place with coupons—”

“Jesus Christ,” Rafe sighed, finally lifting his head from your neck, giving her an exasperated look. “Does she ever stop talking?”

“Shut up,” you murmured, swatting his chest even as you tried not to giggle. Ava’s gaze flicked over to the two of you, her expression still murderously angry—but she still didn’t seem even a little fazed by the fact that Rafe was literally shirtless, looking like he’d been in the middle of something much more interesting.

“Anyway, so then he tries to say that he thinks I’m being too sensitive. Like, are you kidding? Sensitive? I should’ve shoved the damn breadsticks up his ass!”

Rafe let out a sound that was somewhere between a snort and a growl, dropping his head back onto your shoulder with a dramatic groan. “You’re killing me."

You giggled, shaking your head and patting his hair soothingly. “You’ll survive,” you murmured, still trying to keep a straight face. Ava was still pacing, muttering angrily under her breath.

“I swear to God, next time, I’m just bringing a taser. I’m not playing anymore. You think I’m being sensitive? Here, take 50,000 volts and let’s see how sensitive you feel after that—”

Rafe lifted his head again, looking between you and Ava with an expression that could only be described as done. “Can I kill her?” he asked flatly.

You smacked his shoulder again, laughing. “No, Rafe. Be nice.”

“I am being nice,” he shot back, giving you an incredulous look. “I’m suffering, babe. I’m over here, trying to—” He gestured between the two of you pointedly. “—and she’s giving me a freaking lecture on expired coupons.”

“I know,” you whispered, grinning as he groaned and dropped his head against your chest this time.

“Why do I even try?” he sighed, sounding utterly defeated.

“And then he actually thought he could just—”

Ava abruptly stopped mid-sentence, her eyes narrowing as she took in the scene before her. Her attention flicked between you and Rafe, lingering on the way you were still nestled against him.

“Wait a second,” she said slowly, “What the hell just happened here?”

You felt your cheeks heat up as you shot a look at Rafe, who was now smirking like the cat who got the cream.

“Uh, nothing? Just a little... study break?” you stammered.

Ava crossed her arms, her eyebrow arched in that way that always made you feel like she was reading your mind. “Study break, huh?”

Rafe leaned back, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “What can I say? I’m a good tutor. A very hands-on tutor.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, suddenly serious.

“You better use protection, Cameron,” she warned, pointing a finger at him like a stern teacher. “I swear to God, if you get her pregnant—”

“AVA!” you exclaimed, mortified, covering your face with your hands. You could feel the heat radiating off your cheeks, and it was all you could do to not melt into the floor.

“What?” she said innocently, clearly enjoying your reaction. “Just looking out for my girl here. I mean, have you seen him? He’s trouble.”

Rafe, still unbothered, just laughed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “Yup, there she is,” he said, glancing at you with a cheeky glint in his eye. 

You shot him a faux glare, then turned back to Ava, throwing your hands up in exasperation. You groaned, half-laughing, half-embarrassed. “Can we not talk about my potential future children right now?”

She just scooted right between you and Rafe, sitting in bed and throwing her legs over the blanket, settling in like she belonged there. You blinked, caught between amused and confused, as she wiggled down, practically cocooning herself.

"What are we watching?" Ava asked, completely ignoring the fact that she had become the ultimate third wheel.

You could see Rafe moving, trying to reclaim some form of contact with you. His arm was awkwardly hovering like he wasn’t sure what to do now that you were out of reach. You turned slightly—he was full-on pouting. His bottom lip stuck out just enough that you had to fight the urge to laugh.

“Uh, nothing now,” Rafe muttered, his voice full of that trademark grumpiness. “Can't even hold my girl.”

Ava just shrugged, completely unfazed, casually throwing an arm over your waist. “Oh, c’mon, you’ll survive one movie without being all over each other.” She glanced between you two like she was the voice of reason, which—let’s be real—she was not.

You shot Rafe a playful look, but he was still sulking, “Gonna start dragging you to my dorm.”

“Shup up Cameron, let me watch the movie.”

TAGLIST: @sxdghxstsbxxkshxlf @goddmie @voqueflms @mattyskies @maybankslover @psychocitylights @sunny1616 @bokutooooo @justafangirls-blog @cl4uus @persiar9 // if you asked me to tagged and i forgot iM SORRY <3 thank you all for the support!

[ivysprophecy]

Am I Okay? Masterlist

summary: y/n moves to the outerbanks thanful for a fresh start away from a very heavy past. once she gets there she falls into this diverse crowd of kooks, pogues, and everything in between. north carolina may be the south but she shows them what texan looks like. shockingly, rafe takes interest in his sisters friend. someone so drastically different from him. girl next door. what ever will he do?

authors note: im gonna be honest a LOT of this fic is gonna be self serving. i know its not gonna be everyones cup of tea but i started making it for my friends and i and its really grown so i decided to post. there will be a lot of names you wont recoginze and with that being said its got quite the back story so i will be posting a sort of 'key' if that makes sense.

throughout this fic i will be touching on some sensitive subjects such as physical abuse, drug addiction, drug rehab, being drugged, ptsd, sexual assault and more as we go on. this is something thats going to affect you please continue at your own risk.

some other notes will be that this is not show accurate entirely, as i said this was VERY self serving and very, fanon, if you will. the pogues and kooks get along, no to little topper or kelce mentions.

[ read before starting series! ]

key | profiles part one | profiles part two | profiles part three | moodboard

[ smau series are labeled as 'part's and written series are labeled as 'chapter's ]

| part one | chapter one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven | chapter two | part eight | part nine | part ten | part eleven | part twelve | chapter three | part thirteen a | part thirteen b | part fourteen | part fifteen | part sixteen | part seventeen | part eighteen | part nineteen | part twenty | part twenty one |

[andvys]

Dancing with our hands tied | S.H.

Chapter twenty four ⭐︎ I once believed love would be black and white, but it’s golden

Warnings: confrontations, angst, mentions of loss and death, confrontations, lots and lots of fluff, allusions to smut

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: You introduce Steve to your family... and step out of hiding.

Word count: 10.6k

Author’s note: @hellfire--cult thank you for helping me proofread and writing this chapter bby<3 can you believe we’re almost done with this story?

Series Masterlist ⭐︎ Previous Chapter ⭐︎ Next Chapter

♡

Sun kisses your skin with its warmth, the smell of fresh flowers and wet grass lingers all around you, the leaves that are slowly changing color are still dripping with water from the light rain that greeted you this morning. Your hand is safely embraced by your boyfriend, who is rubbing soothing circles on your skin, squeezing you and holding you close as he stares at the names engraved into the stone, where the bodies of your parents lie six feet under, the only remains left of them buried underneath the ground. The only things evident of their existence are all the pictures ever taken of them. 

He can feel your sadness as you stare at the names of your parents, he can feel your grief, even after all these years, you still feel it just as deeply as you did back then. 

But Steve doesn’t know that you no longer feel alone, that his presence comforts you in ways nothing else ever could. You squeeze his hand and lean your head on his shoulder. 

You wish he could’ve gotten to know them differently, your father would’ve loved him, your mother would’ve adored him. Steve would’ve been a part of your family. 

But this is the only way. 

You spent the morning in your bed, going through old pictures, ones he hasn’t seen yet, you shared sacred memories with him, introduced him to your favorite pictures of your family, he watched and listened with a smile on his face, a longing look in his eyes, wishing that he could’ve had a good relationship with his own parents too, wishing that he could’ve met yours. 

So when you offered to introduce him to them, even if only like this, he immediately said yes. He stopped by the store and got flowers to put on your parents' grave, the flowers that were your mom’s favorites. 

You whispered softly when you arrived, ‘hi mom, hey dad’, you touched the stone and looked down with tears in your eyes, Steve’s heart broke at that moment. But then you stepped back and took his hand again, and for the first time, you introduced him as your boyfriend, though you both wished it was under different circumstances, wishing he could shake your dad’s hand instead, that he could hand those flowers to your mom, that he could talk to them, that he could promise them that he will take good care of you, just like he would like to promise it to your best friend. 

There are fresh flowers on his grave too, ones that can’t be older than a day or two. He knows they are from you, blue tulips.

He never asked himself that question before but now he wonders how much time you spend at the cemetery. How many lonely days have led you here, to your best friend, to your parents. The thought only breaks his heart even more.

A sigh falls from your lips and he turns away from the flowers and looks at you. You are staring at Max’s letter that fused into the grass, the ink nearly washed away from all the rain that followed since that day. 

“Come on,” you whisper, no longer wanting to be here, standing before the grave of your best friend who should’ve been anywhere but here, every time you’re here, your heart breaks all over again. You tug at your boyfriend’s hand and start to pull him away, eying his burgundy car already but Steve stops you, with a squeeze of his hand and a kind smile on his beautiful face. 

“Wait, give me a moment will you?” He asks softly, fishing out his car keys from his pocket, he hands them to you and takes a step closer, pressing his lips to your temple, “I’ll be right there, darling.”

Despite the curiosity and the confusion building up in you, you close your hand around his keys and nod, looking into his soft hazel eyes, you match the look on his face, smiling at your boyfriend, you let go of his hand and grab his shoulder instead, rising up on your tippy toes, you kiss his lips before you step away and give him the privacy he asked for. 

Steve watches you walk away, a fond smile still resting on his features, you are wearing his jacket, pulling it tighter around you when the wind kisses your skin. His heart skips a beat when you pull the collars around your neck tighter as well. It will smell like you and he can’t wait to breathe in your scent once he wears it himself again. 

When you get into the passenger seat of his car, Steve turns around again, facing the grave he hasn’t seen since the day he drove Max here. 

A sudden nervousness rushes through him and settles in the pit of his stomach, a tension he hasn’t felt in a while surrounding him now, the kind he only ever felt when he was around Billy. He never liked him and Billy certainly never liked him either. 

The cold breeze blows through his hair, messing it up just the slightest bit. Steve clears his throat and looks around, restraining himself from crossing his arms.

It’s almost as though he is here. 

The awkward tension hangs heavy in the air, he can feel it but he needs to do this, he has to. 

“Hey man,” Steve breaks the silence, feeling a little ridiculous, standing here before Billy’s grave, greeting him like he was a friend. “I know I’m probably the last person you wanna… uh… hear or see?” He mumbles, scratching the back of his neck as he stares at his name.

“But I just… I know what you mean to her, I know what she meant to you… and fuck… I hurt her… many times, so many that I’d deserve to get beaten to death by you. But I promise to make up for all of that. I will protect her… for me and for you. I promise. I’m pretty sure that if I’d ever hurt her again, Eddie would honor you, Hargrove, and just kill me.” Steve chuckles, knowing how fucked he would’ve been had Billy known everything. “But I promise, I will never hurt her again. I love her, I love her so much, there is nothing I wouldn’t do for that girl, Billy. It took me a while to open my eyes and put away my pride but I see her now, she has my heart.” He speaks with a softness in his voice. 

The wind blows again, a little softer this time but the leaves fall from the trees and onto his gravestone. The silence that follows reminds him of how ghostly the place is, how full yet empty it is, how lifeless yet… not. But everyone in here is gone, including your best friend. 

Steve looks down at his hands, he might never understand the bond you two shared, but he knows one thing for sure, he kept you safe, when he was here and when he was not. 

“Thank you,” Steve whispers, feeling sad over a man he could never stand but one that means something special to you, “for protecting her all along, in life and in death.” 

And then, Steve takes one last look at Billy’s name, at the grave you visit so often, “I got her now,” he promises before he steps away and leaves. 

You don’t question him when he gets into the driver's seat of his car, you don’t give any more curious, questioning looks, you simply smile and take his hand when he reaches for yours, a habit you had quickly gotten used to and very comfortable with. 

It’s only been a few days since you had started dating officially, it feels much longer than that… with good reason. 

You haven’t seen any of your friends since ‘the party’ at Eddie’s place, you only talked to Eddie on the phone and told him about what happened, and Robin… she only called Steve one more time before she gave him the space he asked for. 

You wanted alone time with each other, you wanted to exist with only one another. You barely left the house for three days and most of that time it was spent in your bed. You went out to get food and didn’t hide when you held each other’s hands or kissed in the parking lot of the diner, not caring that your friends who are still clueless about your relationship could see, and while you are both excited for the big reveal, you can’t help but love this little secret between you, the secret that you now live out openly, the bubble you have both created, the one that is about to burst. 

When Steve parks his car in Eddie’s driveway, you feel the calmness in you slowly transforming into dread and anxiety, knowing that you will have to face a person, a girl you considered a close friend you now see as someone unpleasant, especially after all the treatment you received from her in the past few weeks, the words she spewed at you, the words you never revealed to Steve. 

It was hurtful and offending but still, you couldn’t repeat the things she said to you, not to him. She is still his best friend, still the person who wanted to protect him from pain and heartbreak and you have no intention to break them apart but you can’t digest the words she hit you with, they were distasteful and rude and the disgust in her eyes cut you deep. 

“Hey,” your boyfriend whispers, pulling you out of your thoughts with his gentle voice. He brings your hand up towards his face and kisses your knuckles, looking at you with a reassuring smile on his face, “it’s gonna be okay.”

You look into his hazel eyes and you can’t help but wonder what he would think, how he would react if you told him about the things she said to you, how he would react once she tells him what happened between you and her – you know she will, you know that despite her fear of losing him, she will tell him everything. 

“Yeah,” you smile weakly. 

You can tell that he is anxious too, with the way he runs his fingers through his hair and sighs, holds your hand tightly and looks at Eddie’s house with a hint of fear in his eyes. 

Eddie and Steve haven’t been on the best terms either, you know why, that’s why you aren’t angry at Robin for wanting to protect her best friend, you are angry at her for the way she judged you, for the way she approached this whole situation. You saw the guilt and the regret in her eyes when she realized how wrong she was about you but it did nothing to mend the anger and the hurt in you. 

Steve’s comforting hand is on the small of your back when you make your way up Eddie’s porch, you can’t even ring the bell or knock before the front door opens suddenly and your best friend’s eyes meet yours. You feel Steve tensing up beside you when he looks between you both and then down at your joined hands. A look of relief, a look of happiness for you crosses his face and then, he steps out and grabs your hand, pulling you away from Steve and into his embrace, he hugs you tightly, tighter than he ever hugged and held you before, not only because he is happy for you but also because he missed you. 

A smile tugs at your lips, warmth blooming in your chest at the love you feel for him. You lift your arms up and hug him back. 

“Hi Eds,” you whisper. 

“Hey stranger,” he whispers and squeezes your arms, “I missed you.”

Steve looks between you both with softness in his eyes and a warm smile on his lips. Though the tension in him is still strong and the one in Eddie too, Steve can see it when he pulls away from you and takes a long look at him. He can see the guilt in his eyes, the awkwardness and the missing coldness that he looked at him with for the past months. 

“Steve,” Eddie mumbles, nodding at him. 

“Hey man,” Steve greets him with a hint of a smile. 

Both are tense, both are awkward. 

You clear your throat and step back, reaching for your boyfriend’s hand again who takes it happily, giving it a tight squeeze. 

“Right uh,” Eddie mumbles and scratches the back of his neck, stepping back into his house and inviting you both in. “Robin is in the living room, we can uh… talk, no one’s here, Wayne went out with Susan, Max went with them.” 

Steve nods at his words, he breaks eye contact with him and looks back at you. He doesn’t know a single thing about what happened between you and his best friend, he doesn’t know what words were thrown around, what had been said, how bad it actually got. He knew it was bad, he knew it from the moment he saw the hurt look in your eyes, the disappointment towards his best friend, towards someone you thought was your friend too. You were angry, you were hurt and still, you protected her from his anger by not telling him but he needs to know now. 

“I’m gonna talk to Eddie for a second, I’ll be right there,” you tell him, growing nervous as each second passes. 

He nods, “alright, I’ll go talk to Robin.” 

You don’t want them to fight, you don’t want him to stand between you both but you can’t stop anything now. 

He gives you a smile, one that says ‘everything will be okay, no matter what happens, we’ll be okay’. He lets go of your hand and cups the side of your face, he leans down and presses a soft kiss to your lips before he steps away from you and Eddie, leaving you both in the hallway while he makes his way into the living room, where his best friend is already waiting, sitting on the couch with shaky hands and a bouncing knee, staring at the ground with nothing but anxiety and fear written all over her face. The paleness in her cheeks matched the one from the night in the upside down, when she thought that he would die of rabies. 

It hurts him to see her like this and he can’t help but want to pull her into his arms. With a sigh, he speaks her name. 

Robin’s head snaps up at the sound of his voice, she freezes, staring at him like she’s seen a ghost. She doesn’t stand up, doesn’t make her way over to him, she just sits there, quietly and unmoving, like a kid caught doing something their parents have warned them not to. 

“Hey,” Steve mumbles softly, slowly walking towards her, wanting to go in for a hug but she stops him, holding her hand up, motioning for him not to come closer as her eyes well up with tears already. 

This time it’s he who freezes, furrowing his brows at her. 

“Do you know what happened?” She rushes out, her voice even shakier than her hands. 

He runs his hand through his hair, sighing as he shakes his head. 

“No, I don’t, I don’t know what happened, Robin. I don’t know what you said to her, she didn’t want to tell me.” 

Robin sighs loudly, she shuts her eyes and leans forward, burying her face in her hands as she mumbles, “t-that makes it all worse.” She tugs at her hair and sniffles, the guilt consuming her now because even after she threw all these hurtful, disgusting words at you, you still decided to protect her from her best friend’s rage, from losing him. 

How could she misjudge you so poorly? 

How could she say all these things to you? 

She nearly ruined that one thing that he wanted so badly, she nearly took it all away from him.

She feels the couch dipping lower, she smells his cologne and his hairspray as he sits down next to her. He doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t demand answers but he waits, he waits for her to speak up about what happened. 

She takes a deep breath and pulls back, looking around herself but not at him, she can’t look into his eyes, she can’t bear to stand the disgust in them once she tells him everything. 

Her heart is already pounding in her chest and her palms grow sweaty, she wipes them against her jeans and takes another few deep breaths, trying to calm herself down, trying to get rid of that gnawing feeling in her chest but there is no stopping it, no escaping, she knows how this will end. 

“What I told you about her…” She begins, still refusing to look at him, “wasn’t true… That she had no feelings for you, that she… that you were just a hookup to her… that wasn’t true, you were never just that, I was wrong about it, about her.” 

“Yeah, Robin.” Steve sighs, “you were wrong about her.” 

She closes her eyes again, scrunching them shut as though she is in pain.

“I’ll understand if you will hate me after this, I deserve it.”

Steve shakes his head, “Robin–”

“No! No, you don’t even– fuck… I said some hideous things to her, Steve, and I thought badly of her, really badly.” 

She opens her eyes, though she lowers her head again when she hears your footsteps, when she feels your eyes on her. She feels shame rising in her, growing bigger and bigger until it’s nothing but that inside of her. 

From the corner of her eye, she sees you taking a seat beside Steve, he sees his hand settling on your thigh, reaching for your hand, naturally, openly. She knows what this means, she knows what you are to one another now, and it only makes the feelings in her worse because she was the one who nearly made it all impossible. 

If you were still the girl that she first met when she attacked you with vile words, you and Steve wouldn’t be here now, not like this. You’d both be broken, unaware of each other’s feelings and all because of her mistake. 

The urge to put all the cards on the table prompts her to spill it all out, with no hesitation, with no stopping, she spills out every word she had said to you, confesses the ugly truth to her best friend, to the one she always just wanted to protect. 

Tears escape her eyes the moment she finally takes a look at him, he is angry, he is angry at her, for what she said to you, for how she hurt you. Robin had never seen him this way before, seething, furious and red in his face from the burning emotions in him. 

This is the first time that Steve feels anger towards his best friend. 

And as he looks at her, at the girl who knew about how he feels for you, how dear you are to him, he is in sheer disbelief, unable to understand how she could throw such comments at you, make disgusting remarks about something she never judged him for, how far was she from insulting you further? 

He gets up from the couch, turning his whole body towards her, he points an angry finger at her, “you knew what she means to me! Yet you decided that breaking her apart was still the best idea!? Even if you wanted to protect my honor!? I would have understood what you did if we were in fact in an official relationship at that time, but we weren’t Robin! We were oblivious to each other’s feelings! If she did hurt me in any way, it was unintentional! But you… you judged her without knowing anything, you judged her feelings and her, you hurt her! Did you think that it would make me feel better? Do you think that hurting her would fix my pain? What the fuck, Robin?” He throws his hands up, still staring in disbelief and confusion, unable to understand how she, Robin, could do something like this. 

And now, she won’t even look at him as tears spill down her cheeks. 

“Steve,” you whisper softly, reaching for his hand and pulling him back. 

Steve knows what you are trying to do, that you are still trying to stop him from losing a friend.

He opens his mouth to speak, though your best friend cuts him off. Eddie clears his throat and breathes in shakily, he sits down besides Robin and takes a nervous look at Steve. 

“I’m not innocent in all of this either,” he admits, “it’s not just her you should be mad at. She came to me to talk about you both, about your feelings,” he mumbles, pulling his gaze away from Steve and directing it at you instead. 

You raise your brows at him and cock your head to the side. You knew something happened, even before the argument with Robin, you knew they talked, you knew there was something.

“She wanted to know what you felt for him and I lied, I told her there was nothing.You asked me to keep it all a secret so I did, you didn’t want to lose him and I thought I was doing the right thing by not telling her the truth. You always thought that Steve would break things off if he found out about your feelings so… I didn’t want to give you away, if I knew about his feelings, I wouldn’t have lied but she told me the same thing I told her so…” He shrugs, not hiding the truth from either of you. 

Steve rubs his temples, feeling a migraine coming in as he looks between yours and his best friend, the anger continuing to build up in him. 

But you, you can’t be mad at Eddie for wanting to protect you, not a single emotion of anger rushes through you. 

“Is that why you were such an asshole to me this whole time?” Steve asks, staring at him intensely. “The moment you found out about us, you treated me like I was air.” 

“Can you blame me?” Eddie scoffs, “or did you forget about how you reacted when I thought you were a couple? And besides, with your reputation? I knew what she went through, Steve. I knew how deep her feelings were for you… was it bad to be cautious around you? And it’s not like I–” he pauses, glancing at Robin who only sighs at him when she meets his eyes. 

“It’s not like he cussed you into oblivion… He was… still civil with you. Because unlike me towards Blondie,” she mumbles quietly, looking at you for a brief second, “Eddie gave you the benefit of the doubt.” 

Eddie shakes his head, “I did swear on my mom’s grave and Hargrove’s I would punch your dick if you hurt her. Was gonna make sure that dream of yours of having six kids didn’t come true. And I still stand by this if you do hurt her in the future.” 

You look down at your hands, shaking your head as a small smile appears on your face. 

Steve scoffs and rolls his eyes, runs his fingers through his hair again as he takes a look around him, at Eddie and at you before he glances at her, Robin who is still hiding her face from him and from you, not shaking anymore now that the truth it all out, but her shoulders are slumped and relaxed now, there is no fear anymore, just sadness. 

He is still angry. 

He is still disappointed. 

For a moment, it’s quiet, no words are said, no looks are shared, not until Eddie is the one to break the silence again when he stands up and steps towards Steve.

“I’m sorry for the way I treated you, man. I like you, I really do, you have been a good friend to me after all the shit went down and I shouldn’t have been that way towards you but, I love her, Steve. She is my best friend, I just wanted to protect her,” Eddie says, looking down, “I know I could’ve done that without being a dick though… So, I’m sorry, I really am.” 

Steve’s brows pull together, another sigh falls from his lips. He understands it, he really does and he is glad that you have a best friend who loves you so dearly, who is loyal to you and defends you even if you don’t ask for it. 

“It’s okay, Eddie, I understand it. And I accept your apology.” 

Eddie presses his lips together, he nods, flashing you a quick smile before he looks back at the brunette. 

“So… we’re cool?” 

“Yeah, we’re cool,” Steve mumbles, still having to force a smile. “And I promise, I won’t ever hurt her again.”

Eddie’s face grows serious again, he squints his eyes and leans closer. 

“Yeah, you better don’t, Harrington.”

You look between them both, a smile appearing on your face when they shake hands and Eddie smiles at him. You still sense the tension, you can see it written all over your boyfriend’s face, he needs a moment to digest all of this, you can see it in his eyes, especially when they lock on Robin’s figure. 

The shuffling from your right pulls your attention on both men away, you glance at the girl, who gets up from the couch, wiping her tears before she looks around you all, unable to face you still. 

“I’m sorry for what I did… It was never my intention to hurt any of you, b-but I did… and I’m really fucking sorry,” she says, sadly. “I’m gonna go now.” 

You straighten your back as you watch her, watch how she is ready to walk out of here without asking for forgiveness, ready to leave without friends. Your eyes follow her, just as Steve’s and Eddie’s do too. 

You push yourself up from the couch, not wanting her to leave like this. 

But Steve, he steps away from Eddie and makes his way over to Robin before she can even come close to stepping out into the hallway, he steps in front of her, blocking her way. With a sigh, he wraps his arms around her and hugs her tightly, not allowing her to walk away from you all. 

He might be angry, he might be hurt but she still means the world to him and even after everything, he knows her intentions were good, she wanted to protect him just like Eddie wanted to protect you. 

“Thank you for loving me, Birdie.”

A sob falls from Robin’s lips, though it comes out muffled as she hides her face in his chest, “Shut up… I don’t… I don’t love you… ew.” She lies, which only makes him tighten his hold on her. 

“Keep telling yourself that, Buckley.”

Her sniffles are loud, her knuckles turn white from how tightly she holds onto him. You can practically feel her regret and her fear. She thought she lost him and she was ready to let go if that’s what he’d asked of her. 

But you would never be able to live with yourself if he lost her, and all because of you. 

You decide to give them a moment, you glance at Eddie and nod your head towards the direction of his kitchen. He gives you a nod and starts making his way out of the living room, with one last glance at the two best friends, you follow him. 

But a gentle hand stops you from leaving and you halt in your tracks when you look down to find Robin clutching your hand tightly, pulling you back. You furrow your brows and raise your head to look at her apologetic face, the tears still wet on her cheeks, her eyes puffy and filled with sadness. She pushes away from Steve and takes a step forward. 

“Can we talk?” She asks and begs with her eyes, “please…”

Steve looks between you both, giving you an encouraging nod when you look into his eyes. 

You breathe in deeply and nod slowly, “okay…”

Eddie looks between you both from the doorway, now gesturing to Steve to follow him so you two can talk because he can see that Robin wants to be alone with you. Steve pats Robin’s back and gives your temple a soft kiss before he leaves, though hesitating when he sees how uncomfortable you both still look. 

“C’mon,” Eddie murmurs to him. 

“Yeah…” Steve sighs. 

The tension returns once you and Robin are left alone in the room. She wipes her tears before she looks into your eyes again, her cheeks are red, whether from all the tears she shed or the fear in her, you don’t know. 

You wait patiently, not pushing her to talk, you wait until she is ready. 

She starts with your name, speaking softly, “I’m so sorry… I-I was so horrible to you… and you never deserved it. It was never my intention to hurt you. If I would’ve known about your feelings, I would have never done this, I would have never said such… ugly things,” she says, scrunching her face up as she thinks back to the day. “I don’t expect you to forgive me, I haven’t– I haven’t treated you kindly… Maybe if I would’ve paid more attention to you–”

“You didn’t have to,” you shrug, cutting her off, “Steve comes first to you, Robin, I understand that.”

She nods her head but the guilt in her eyes remains. 

“Yeah… I just… I would do anything to keep Dingus safe, I didn’t want to see him hurt anymore, not because of others.” She sighs and looks down, finally letting go of your hand. “But I could’ve approached it all differently, I-I never meant those things I said to you, I never meant to judge… I was angry– and that doesn’t excuse shit but… I’m just… I’m sorry.”

You nod, though the hurt is still deep. 

Whether she meant it or not, she cut you deeply in that moment. 

“I would’ve done the same for Eddie, but I can’t say that I wouldn’t have looked at the other person. I wouldn’t have stepped on someone else’s feelings… not without knowing them.” 

She looks back up at you, the fear still evident in your features, it almost makes you, yourself feel guilty when you speak your next words. 

“... I don’t forgive you, Robin.”

Her shoulders slump, her blue eyes widen and well up with fresh tears, the hurt and the shock are written all over her face. She opens her mouth to speak but no words come out. She looks like she is ready to beg as her big eyes stare into yours. 

“But we can start over.”

She blinks a few times, staring at you like she is frozen in place and then, relief washes over her features and she lets out a deep sigh. 

“Really?” She asks as her eyes soften. 

“Yeah, really,” you whisper and give her a soft smile. “You hurt me but I really like you and I don’t want to lose another friend.” 

Her next move is sudden and you nearly lose your balance when she throws her arms around you and hugs you tightly, pulling you into her embrace as she begins to whisper apologies into your ear followed by promises to never hurt you again. 

You wrap your arms around her too and hug her back just as tightly. 

“Thank you,” she whispers, squeezing your arms. 

Only now as you stand here in the middle of your best friend’s living room, in her embrace, do you realize just how much you missed her friendship, her kind presence in your life, how much you despised her cold shoulder because you just missed her, how much it hurt to receive that treatment from her. 

“Vickie got mad at me because of the way I treated you and now she is not talking to me… I guess I deserve that.” 

A frown makes its way on your face, you pull back from the hug, feeling a little surprised to hear that the redhead came to your defense. You get along with Vickie but you aren’t exactly close. 

You place your hand on her shoulder and look into her guilty eyes, “she didn’t break up with you though, did she?” 

She shakes her head quickly, eyes widening at your question. 

“Then it’s gonna be okay, we’re okay,” you point between you and her, “you and her will be too. Besides, that girl is like… head over heels gone for you. It’s written all over her face, she can’t even look away from you.” 

A blush creeps up to her cheeks, her lips twitch and curl into a smile as her blue eyes light up, she looks down and breathes in shakily, staying quiet for a moment before curiosity takes over her features and she raises her head again. 

“Like you couldn’t look away from Steve all these years?” 

Now it’s your turn to blush and hide your face from her. 

“Yeah…”

“I wish I knew…” Robin whispers, in guilt and in regret. When she found out about your feelings, she was taken back to all the times Steve had hurt you with harsh words, the pained look in your eyes, the wetness in them and the hurt in your expression suddenly made sense. If he were anyone else, you wouldn’t have been touched in the slightest but it was him, Steve, the guy you had fallen in love with long before she even befriended him. The guy who disliked you to the point of throwing vile words at you, even after you risked your life and jumped into unknown waters just to save his life. The guy you watched fall for his ex-girlfriend again, the same girl that hurt him and broke his heart, the same one that broke his heart for a second time. 

Only when it was too late, when the damage was down, did she realize just how much you loved him. She was so blind to the way you looked at him because she was so focused on protecting him, if she had looked closer, just for a single second, none of this would have happened. 

“It’s okay, Robin. We can move past this now.”

She nods with a small smile, a sad one. 

“He really hurt you didn’t he?” Robin mumbles, now knowing how much you suffered, all these years, all because of your feelings for someone who didn’t reciprocate them until now. 

It doesn’t matter anymore, the past has slipped away. 

“He made up for it.” 

“Yeah,” she breathes, and looks into the hallway, you both can hear their voices coming from the kitchen, the sound of a beer bottle opening. A smile appears on her face and she looks back at you, “did you watch him run around in his stupidly short gym shorts during PE?” 

A snort escapes you and you slap her shoulder, rolling your eyes when your cheeks heat up at her question. 

You did. And you enjoyed every second of it. 

“Stop.”

A giggle falls from her lips and she pinches your side, “you so did!” 

You push her hand away with a laugh and take a step back, starting to make your way out of the living room with her hot on your heels, her teasing voice following you into the kitchen where Steve and Eddie sit around the table, with drinks in their hands and looks of surprises when you and Robin walk in giggling. 

Steve’s shoulders slump in relief when he sees your frowns replaced with smiles, the relaxed look he missed on your face back again, the heaviness gone in his best friend’s eyes. 

Eddie gets up with a smile and walks towards his fridge to get two more beers out for you and Robin. 

Steve pulls back the chair beside him, beckoning you over to him with a gentle smile. You get comfortable next to your boyfriend and lean your head on his shoulder, smiling at the kiss he greets you with. 

Robin takes the seat beside Eddie, nodding at him with a smile, letting him wrap his arm around her shoulder. 

Everything is okay again. 

Steve and Eddie can talk to each other again, with no tension, no awkwardness. They can joke around and laugh with one another again. 

And you can open up more about your feelings for Steve to Robin, about the ones she never knew of until a few days ago. 

You even show her pictures of your parents, the ones that are always tucked into the little pocket in your burgundy wallet. 

Yeah, it’s all okay again. It for sure isn’t perfect, not yet but it will be. 

-

A warm, adoring smile rests on his happy features, his hazel eyes are glowing with love, hands itching to touch your exposed skin that is kissed by the golden sun rays shining into your room. Steve is leaning against the doorframe, fixing the cuffs on his white button down as he admires the way you look in your beautiful black dress. 

Your hair falls down your exposed back in waves, glittery hair pins adorning them. The silky material clings to your curves, hugging your body perfectly, like it was made just for you. Your pink heels, the ones you have told him about weeks ago, are high, very high, he will probably have to carry you back into the house because your feet will hurt by the end of the night, but he doesn’t mind, he looks forward to it. 

Your perfume lingers in your room, your skin is glowing from the moisturizer he put on your skin after your shower together. You’re wearing pretty earrings and a bracelet, your ring finger is bare, for now. 

Steve slips his hand into his pocket, his heart skips a beat when he touches the cold item that he kept in the drawer of his bedside table for the past few weeks. 

With excitement bubbling inside of him, he makes his way over to you, the floorboards creak beneath his feet, the smile never leaving his face. Your eyes meet his through the large mirror you stand in front of, your own lips curl into a smile as well when you look at him, you tuck the lipstick you just used into the little purse you picked out for this outfit and put it down on your table. 

“Hi, handsome,” you whisper, going to turn around to face him and admire him in his getup but he stops you with the touch of his hand on your waist, he keeps you in place. 

“Hey my beautiful girl,” he murmurs and leans down to press his lips against your shoulder, kissing you softly. “You look so gorgeous, this dress was made for you, darling.” 

You fall back against him, melting into his arms and embracing all the butterflies that go crazy inside of you. 

He looks at you like you are the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid eyes on, and it makes you weak in the knees. 

“Thank you, Stevie.” You whisper and take his hand in yours, bringing it up to your lips, you kiss his knuckles and close your eyes when you lean back into his chest again. He presses his lips back to your shoulder. 

“You smell so good,” he murmurs against your skin, “like a goddess.” 

A giggle falls from your mouth, your stomach flutters when his hands move up your body, his minty breath ghosting against your skin. The sudden coldness around your neck makes you gasp. Your eyes widen when you open them, the warmth inside of you melting even further, your heart soars in your chest as you stare at the chain around your neck, the little pendant, the dainty, silver star with the glittery crystal in the middle catching your eye just like it did that day you saw it at the jewelry store. Your lips part the longer you stare at it, your eyes softening and shining with adoration. 

You went back for this necklace, only a few days after you had first seen it but it was gone. You envied whoever had gotten their hands on it first, you never would've guessed that it was him, he got it, he got it for you, back then. 

You bring your hand up, touching the pendant with softness in your eyes and in your touch, emotions crawl up inside your body, pushing at your eyes and turning them glassy, you look at him through the mirror, staring at the smile on his lips, at the love in his eyes. 

“You… You bought it?”

He nods sheepishly, whispering a small ‘yes’. 

His hands return to your waist when you turn around to face him. 

“You mentioned it that one night when we talked on the phone, I got it the next day.” He explains with all the giddiness in him. 

You blink. 

Feeling stunned by his words and by his actions, you can only stare into your boyfriend’s warm eyes. You remember telling him this before your feelings were known… when that spark of hope was dwindling inside your chest. 

“I knew it was this one,” he explains and glances down at the necklace, “well, I had a feeling it was, besides you love stars and shiny things, so I–”

You cup his cheeks and cut him off with your lips, kissing him deeply and softly, with all your love and all your adoration, messing up your freshly applied lipstick in the process but you couldn’t care less at this moment. Your heart is beating strongly, the hotness in your body consuming you fully. 

Steve melts into your touch, into your kiss, he slides his hand down to your lower back, touching your exposed back and pulling you tightly against him as he happily reciprocates the kiss, smiling into it, loving every second of it. 

“I love you,” you whisper, softly. “I love you so much, Steve Harrington.” 

He tilts your chin up with his fingers, pecking your rosy lips once more after he whispers your name, “I love you so much more.”

You still need time to get used to it all, to get used to his I love you’s, to the softness in his eyes. It all still feels so surreal – just like it does to him. Steve feels like he is the luckiest man in the world, in the whole universe. 

You pout at him so cutely, it makes him want to drop to his knees before you. 

“No, I–”

He cuts you off this time, pressing his lips back to yours and stealing your breath away with a strong kiss, one that makes you moan and squirm in his arms. Heat builds up in you as you grow weaker for your man. You are forced to fight the urge to grab at slicked back hair, mess up this masterpiece he had spent so much time on. You love the look of it, of him in a suit but you can’t wait to rip his clothes off and mess up his hair, later in the night. 

“S-Steve,” you whimper when he trails down kisses to your neck, breathing in your sweet perfume. 

A lazy smile appears on your lips, “w-we have to…” Another moan escapes you, cutting you off when he kisses that one spot that makes you scrunch your brows together. His strong hands bunch up the material of your dress, he breathes heavily against you, humming in delight as he praises your beauty. 

“S-Stevie… we have to… we’re gonna be late,” you whimper and grab at his biceps, not making much effort to push him away though. 

His hands roam your body, grabbing at your butt, feeling the hunger in him rising. 

“C-Come on, baby.” You whisper as your eyelashes flutter, “w-we can… we can use the backseat of your car later…”

He pulls away with a smirk on his face, squeezing your butt once again, he wiggles his eyebrows at you, “what, in the church parking lot?” 

You slap his shoulder playfully and shake your head at him, which prompts him to just pull you tighter against him. 

“They’re not even getting married there,” you chuckle. 

“No?” He asks as he leans in again, going straight back to your neck, making you hum in delight. He smacks his lips against your skin, repeatedly, not getting enough of you. 

“N-No, just at the… Steve…!” 

With a chuckle he finally pulls away but not without pecking your lips first, getting all the gloss on his own. 

“Okay, okay,” he murmurs as he squeezes your waist, “will you help me put this on?” He reaches for the bow tie on the little table you had kept all your makeup on. 

You take it from his hand right away, nodding happily. 

He leans down, giving you more access to his neck when you reach your hands behind him to place the tie under the collars of his button down. Your stomach flutters yet again when you breathe in his cologne. 

You fix the bow on the front, trying not to smile when you feel him staring at your face. A smile graced his lips. 

“Steve…” You whisper, blushing. 

“Yes, baby?” 

“You’re making me nervous.” 

He smirks at your words, adoring the look on your face, “I’m just admiring my gorgeous girl, you truly look like a goddess, especially in this dress.” 

“And you look really handsome in your suit and tie, Stevie.” You lean closer to him, pressing your lips to his ear, “really sexy too.” 

His smirk widens, his hands dip lower on your body again as your own move down his chest as your hungry eyes meet one another’s and your bodies instinctively move closer and closer. 

It’s safe to say that you don’t make it out of your house in time but with good reason and under good disguise — Lego Head picking up Blondie for a wedding? Who thought that it would’ve been a good idea? 

When Steve parks his BMW in the parking lot of the beautiful venue that Joyce had picked out, you share a look with each other when your friends catch sight of you both. They’re all standing around Eddie’s car, in their gowns and suits. 

You unbuckle your seatbelt and grab the handle of the car door. 

“Ready for the show, Lego Head?” You smirk. 

A chuckle leaves his lips, he has to fight the urge to kiss you right here and in front of all your friends. 

“So ready.” 

You wink at him before you turn your back to him, opening the door when he stops you with his hand on your thigh. You look down and then back at him over your shoulder.

“I love you.”

Your eyes soften, you crave his soft lips on your own so badly.

“I love you too, Steve.”

Your heels barely hit the ground before Max and El come rushing over to you, excitedly, gushing over your dress and how pretty you look. 

Steve has to bite his tongue at that moment, fighting the urge to agree with them and tell them how gorgeous his girl is. 

“Took you long enough!” Dustin says, throwing his hands up.

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve murmurs, shrugging as he points at you, “don’t blame me, Blondie didn’t know what shoes to pick.”

Nancy furrows her brows at his words, an amused smile making its way on her face as she eyes the pink heels you have picked out weeks ago, already. 

“Hey, don’t blame me, Lego Head. You showed up too late cause you took forever with your hair.” 

Eddie and Robin share a look of confusion. 

“Funny you show up late together,” Lucas grins, wiggling his brows at the both of you. 

Will snickers beside him, shaking his head at his friend. 

You stop beside Steve and he nearly gives you away already when he lifts his arm to wrap it around you, stopping midway and playing it off by fixing the sleeves of his jacket but someone had caught him already. 

Argyle whistles at you, making Jonathan chuckle, “you look so gorgeous, chica. Save me a dance, will you?” 

Steve takes a step closer to you, something that makes both you and Eddie share an amused glance, the metalhead speaking softly to you. 

“Save me one too, sweetheart,” he winks at you and then looks at Steve smugly, who only shakes his head at him in response, at his teasing. 

Dustin smirks at Eddie and wiggles his brows, leaning in to whisper something in his ear. 

Nancy, who is standing next to Will, eyes Steve’s face, watching the way he rolls his eyes at the curly haired teenager as he takes a step closer to you. A small chuckle escapes her mouth, something that makes Will smile to himself. 

“I think Blondie and Steve should dance!” El beams at the two of you, loving to use the nickname he gave you. She looks between the two of you with a huge smile on her face. 

“Me and Lego Head?” You snort, acting like you aren’t dying for him to lead you to the dance floor and drop this act once and for all. 

“Yeah,” Steve snorts, mimicking you. He doesn’t look as serious as you do, he struggles to. “She’s probably gonna step all over my feet.”

Eddie can see the lovesick look in his eyes, the way Steve struggles to hide his smile, the way he has to restrain himself from pulling you into his arms. Oh, he is gone. He can’t understand how he hadn’t seen it before. 

“Yeah, I wore them just for you, Stevie.”

Your eyes lock and for a moment, everything around you disappears, it’s just the two of you. Your smiles spread and your eyes shine for one another. 

The tension between you a different than ever before. 

But it still goes unnoticed by most. 

During the ceremony, you sit between your boyfriend and your best friend. You are unaware of Dustin’s and Lucas’s snickers when they keep glancing your way. You hold Steve’s hand, the whole time. A few tears escape your eyes when Hopper speaks his vows, when he openly shows his love to his pretty bride. 

And in that moment, Steve holds your hand tighter than before, he plays with your ring finger, thinking about one thing only as he stares at the two people on the altar, exchanging their rings and kissing one another with nothing but love. 

A soft smile graces his lips when he looks at you. He can’t wait to be the one putting a ring on your finger. He can’t wait for his future with you. 

The evening goes by in a blur, you laugh with your friends, and share drinks, laugh at all the speeches spoken, cry at the ones from Will and Jonathan when they show their appreciation and love for their mom and the man who promised to take care of his family. 

You hold Steve’s hand beneath the table, play with his fingers and sneak glances and smiles at him. He whispers sweet nothings into your ear when no one is looking but you both get tired of putting on this show.

A very tipsy Hopper makes his way to your table, he stops behind your and Steve’s chair and greets you two with a big smile before he looks around the round table. 

“Are you here to take a few shots with me, Chief?” Eddie grins at him, already holding up the vodka bottle. 

Hopper waves at him, “your uncle’s sitting over there, young man.” 

Eddie snorts and follows to where the older man is pointing at, his uncle is sitting next to his girlfriend, smiling at her. 

“Mr. Munson is preoccupied,” Argyle chuckles and nudges his chin at Wayne who is now pulling Susan on the dance floor. 

Hopper nods and looks around the table before he directs his glance at you and Steve, “how come I have seen everyone on the dance floor but the two of you?”

Steve chuckles and shrugs. 

“Yeah, Steve, why didn’t you ask her to dance with you yet?” Lucas grins, wiggling his brows to which Max only giggles. 

“Yeah, be a gentleman and take the lady for a dance,” Robin smirks at her best friend. 

Hopper grabs Steve’s shoulder, pulling him up, “come on, boy.” 

You giggle at the older man, staring at the teasing grin on his face as he forces your boyfriend to stand up. Steve straightens his back and looks down at you with a grin, he’s been waiting for this moment, all night, to take your hand and lead you to the dance floor. 

Hopper pats him on the back, fixing Steve’s collar as he grins at him, “go on, ask her.”

You and Steve are both very well aware of all the eyes on you, of the teasing glances from the friends who know and the ones who don’t but neither of you care, not anymore. 

Steve clears his throat and offers his hand to you, “would you like to dance with me?” He asks softly and looks into your eyes with love. 

Your eyes run up and down his body, your lips curling into a happy smile. You place your hand in his, “I would love to.”

You let him pull you up, let him place his hand on your lower back, you let him lead you away from the table your friends sit around and you follow him onto the dance floor. 

“Took you long enough, Steve,” you tease him and shoot Hopper a smile as he passes by, making his way back to his now wife. 

Steve wraps his arm around your waist, not caring to hide any longer, he pulls you closer against him, he smiles down at you, “mhm, gonna show everyone whose girl you are.” He says rather possessively. 

Your stomach flutters with butterflies, your eyes lighten up but your lips curl into a teasing smile, “is that jealousy I hear in your voice, Stevie?” 

“What if it is?” 

“Then I’ll tell you that there is no reason for you to feel that ever, I’m all yours.” 

Steve pulls you into the middle of the dance floor, lifting your hand and twirling you around before he pulls you against his chest, making you giggle. 

“That’s right,” Steve murmurs and envelops your body in his, stepping out of hiding, showing everyone that this is more than just a friendly dance, that you and him are more to each other than anyone thinks, that you are his and he is yours, “my girl.” 

There beneath the dim string lights, surrounded by a love song neither of you pay attention to, because in this moment, nothing around you exists, nothing but you and him. You look at each other happily, adoringly. 

“My boy,” you whisper and take another step closer, pressing your chest to his, gripping his hand tighter, melting into his touch as his palm lies on the small of your back. 

His eyes swim with love, lighting up at your words, his heart goes crazy in his chest. 

“I’m all yours,” he whispers and leans in closer, blood rushes to his cheeks, his lips curl into a soft smile. Steve nuzzles his nose against yours, coming closer and closer. Every wish of his, every craving from these past few months with you, finally come to life. 

Steve can hold you, he can pull you closer, he can gaze at you with starry eyes, he can kiss and love you openly. He can do this now. Pressing his lips to yours, he kisses you deeply, softly, passionately. He cradles your cheeks and shows the world that you belong to each other and his heart screams in joy at that — just like yours does, your heart soars, everything in you screams out of happiness. 

Your eyes are closed, your arms now wrapped around his neck as your hand gets lost in his hair, no longer caring about not messing it up. You feel him smiling into the kiss and you can’t help but do the same. 

Eddie and Robin watch you both with smiles on their faces, happy for their best friends. 

Mike is rambling into Lucas’s ear about how much basketball sucks, that he should drop it and just focus on DnD again. The teenage boy only rolls his eyes in response, turning away from his friend, he opens his mouth to ask Max for a dance when the sight before him makes him freeze. His brown eyes widen and his jaw drops. Feeling as though his eyes betray them, he rubs them. You and Steve are in each other’s arms, swaying to the music with your lips locked. 

Lucas leans over his girlfriend, slapping Dustin’s shoulder, “dude… dude!” He says for a second time, loudly enough for everyone at the table to stop their conversations and look at him. 

Dustin frowns at him, shrugging, “what—“ He pauses and follows to what Lucas is pointing at, his own eyes widen and he nearly bolts from his chair when he sees the two of you kissing, “what!?” He shrieks, making El cup her hands over her ears. 

Dustin stares at you and Steve in disbelief. 

“But…” He mumbles and slowly turns to Eddie, pointing between you and him. 

Everyone looks at the two of you now, Jonathan’s eyes are wide, just like Argyle’s are, though there’s a hint of something else in his eyes as he tilts his head at the both of you. 

A warm smile lingers on Nancy’s face, she knew it already, she knew it this whole time, she saw the way you looked at him, the way he looked at you, the way he never looked at her. She is happy for him, he finally found his person and she is happy for you, that you found someone who will cherish you and give you the love he always wanted to give, the love that you deserve. 

El is admiring the two of you, silently. 

Max and Will share looks with each other and smile. 

“But I thought… What the hell? Are they drunk?” Dustin asks Eddie.

“Nope.”

“Then why are they…?”

Eddie grins at the curly haired boy, slapping his hand on his shoulder, “they’re dating.”

Dustin shakes his head, furrowing his brows, “no she is not, she is dating you.” 

Lucas slaps his hand over his head, “you’re a fucking idiot.”

“She is my best friend!” Eddie laughs loudly, “besides, I have a girlfriend, you met her!” 

Dustin rubs his head, glaring at Lucas who is now grinning as he watches you two. 

“I thought it was a bluff!”

Lucas points at you, “she is literally kissing Steve right now!” 

Will clears his throat and leans forward, “yeah, and she’s been kissing Steve for a while now.”

Everyone snaps their heads at Will, everyone except for Max.

Eddie’s brown eyes flicker with confusion, he pulls his brows together and stares down at the boy, “what did you just say?” 

“It was around like… before the fourth of july, right?” Will asks, glancing at Max, who nods with a smirk on her face.  

“Oh yeah, that sounds about right.” 

Robin nods at Eddie, pursing her lips, “fourteen year olds are more perceptive than us, Munson.” 

Everyone gapes at them, especially Lucas who squints his eyes at his girlfriend, “you knew this whole time and you didn’t tell me!?” He throws his hands up, “I was the one who wanted them together!” He says dramatically. 

Argyle slaps Jonathan’s chest, eyes widening, as he finally remembers, “I told you I saw him grab her ass!” 

Jonathan’s frown slips from his face and he straightens his back, “and I told you I saw her kiss him!” 

Argyle slumps back in his chair, mumbling quietly, “and that one time they walked out of the bathroom together.” 

Nancy, who is stunned at her boyfriend and his best friend's words, turns to face them both, “and you never said anything!?” 

Jonathan throws his hands up in surrender, “we were high as a kite! We might’ve been hallucinating for all we knew! I mean they hated each other!” 

Will chuckles at his brother, “you didn’t have to be high to catch these two, they always held hands and kissed when they thought no one was watching.”

Mike turns to face his best friend, he hasn’t given any reactions yet, not until now. 

“And now you didn’t say anything?” 

Will shrugs at him, “didn’t you hear the part when I said ‘they thought no one was watching’? They were clearly keeping it a secret.” 

Your giggle tears everyone’s attention away from Will. Steve is now twirling you around as the love song ended and an upbeat song took over. Your smile is wide, just like his. He’s laughing with you, staring at you like you are the only girl in the world. You are clinging to one another, dancing like it’s only you and him in this world, not caring about anyone around you, not minding the prying eyes or the curious looks. 

Lucas is grinning, though still confused about how it all went by him, how he never noticed a single thing but he is happy to see you two together. 

Eddie and Robin are smiling too, well, everyone is smiling. 

“Come on,” Lucas stands up, pushing his chair back and bowing down before his girlfriend as he offers his hand out to her, “let’s dance.” 

Max bites back her smile, hiding her blushing cheeks behind her hair, she takes his hand and gets up, smoothing down her gown. 

Eddie watches as the teens join you both on the dancefloor and he looks over at Robin, nudging her shoulder, “wanna join them?” 

Robin raises her eyebrows at him, glancing over at the four of you, “sure, let’s go,” she shrugs and gets up, passing by Dustin, she ruffles his curls, “come on, Dusty, you’re coming with us.” 

When the metalhead comes up beside you, he steals Max away from Lucas, chuckling at the offended look on his face, “sorry, gotta dance with my sis for a while, Sinclair!”

And as everyone joins the dance floor, the girls try to snatch you away for details, while the guys try to ask Steve what the hell happened, you don’t let anybody rip your hands apart. 

Long months, nights, days, hours and minutes, hidden in the shadows away from everyone else. Hiding from one another even, not showing your true feelings. You both don’t want to hide any longer. You both want to remain open, and for everyone to see and to know. To talk about. You both want people to envy your love, as well as want it. That’s how strong it is.

Soft whispers of I love you’s are shared, every time your mouth grazes his ear, or he comes closer to press his forehead to yours. It was the perfect night, yet, you weren’t afraid of the end of it. You two will see each other the next day, and the next, and the next… the moment will never be over.

So when the both of you are sitting on your kitchen table, your feet in a bucket full of ice water, both drunk out of your minds but still laughing while eating McDonald’s, and he watches you eat lazily, with adoring eyes and a look of love on his face, he takes your hand and whispers–

“I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

♡

tagging friends and mutuals

@prettyboyeddiemunson @mysticmunson @moon-flowerrs @corrodedcorpses @taintedcigs @munson-mjstan @munsonlore @joekeerysmoles @maroon-cardigan @sherrylyn0628 @thecreelhouse @agirlwholovesrockstars @ibellcipem