#you can tell that lower decks is made with so much love and by people who actually care about star trek

[trashmammal-7]

Guys I won't even lie. I'm absolutely devestated over Lower Decks ending. I'm gonna need 3-5 business days to grieve this show I am not okay.

[luvvyouforever]

my girlfriend (wife) is a witch - sdv harvey x reader

-> in which our beloved small town doctor falls in love with the new resident who just so happens to own a black cat, offer tarot readings in her farmhouse, and loves nothing more than a full moon.

-> not an accurate depiction of witches, just something fun, short, and sweet, harvey's a cutie patootie!

"so, this card seems to be say that your business is gonna take off, which is strange considering your only available pool of patients is about thirty people who all already have yearly appointments booked."

harvey let out a deep chuckle, one that came from the pit of his stomach and traveled up through his chest. to the left of him was a stack of tarot card decks, with crystals stacked on top of those. to his right was an steadily flowing stick of incense that surrounded the backyard patio in a soft haze of lavender.

"maybe the citizens of zuzu will start making their way out here just to see lil' ole me," he said. his fingers toyed with the edge of one of the cards displayed on the table.

you shrugged your shoulders and began to shuffle your deck again, searching for another card. "you never know! the cards once said that lewis and marnie were secretly together and look what happened there! you can't doubt 'em."

harvey chuckled again then, remembering the moment you had bursted into the farmhouse, screaming about finding lewis's purple shorts in marnie's bedroom, all but confirming your suspicions that had been growing for seasons.

he was never much of a believer in anything but the real, practical world. as a doctor, he never allowed himself to indulge in the supernatural or superstitious. going under a ladder is bad luck? not for dr. harvey. however, the moment he fell in love with you, he let himself get absorbed into the world of daily tarot pulls, of drying flowers, of black cats, of full moons, of everything you loved.

snap! snap! "hellooo, earth to harv, please!" your voice snapped him out of his reverie and he noticed two new cards on the table.

"what do those say, dear?" he asked sweetly.

"well, this one says you should give in to spontaneity sometime today and this one is telling me that we should consider forgiving someone's faults," you said, admiring the foil art of the card.

"hmm...maybe i can spontaneously forgive george for verbally accosting me when i recommended that he lower his sodium intake," harvey suggested with a fake thoughtful fist on his chin.

"i think he'd be more open to drinking the elixirs and syrups i make in the basement before eating a salad, hon," you said with a laugh.

after the last pull, you slowly collected every card into a neat pile and tucked them back into their original packaging. harvey admired your handiwork as you placed your crystals back into a wooden box gifted to you by robin. with a smile, you looked up at your husband, only to find him staring at you with love-filled eyes.

you asked, "what are you looking at, huh?"

harvey shrugged his shoulders but made no move to turn his gaze away. "can i not look at my sweet, hard-working wife?"

with a playful roll to your eyes, you stood from the chair and planted a kiss on harvey's head. "speaking of hardworking, i have some strawberries that need harvesting! would you like to come help, my sweet, caring husband?"

harvey gladly stood and followed you through the backyard, into the house full of plants and charms hanging from the ceiling and walls, and out to the porch. at his heels was your black cat, meowing relentlessly for attention. on the porch, he slid on his gardening gloves and sun hat (sun protection is very important, he'd always say, and he always forced you into a straw hat at least).

perhaps his form of spontaneous forgiveness was forgiving himself for not admitting to his feelings earlier, for stressing so hard about finding someone to love, for not knowing sooner that this was always where he was meant to be, tarot cards and black cats and all.

[sgiandubh]

No lies last forever, part 2: the (over)due confirmation

With the Happy Sad Confused Tenth Anniversary Live Special being made available online, I think all doubts have now been lifted about the entire Intergalactic Bullshit this fandom has been deliberately fed for years and years in a row, by a cheap, sad troll and his accomplice. Both imbeciles' determination being only matched by the cast's complete indifference to fandom drama and, as I already wrote (https://www.tumblr.com/sgiandubh/764711074507390976/no-lies-last-forever?source=share), ***'s incompetent, tone-deaf PR.

You can watch the entire recording here, by the way:

The part where S specifically addresses his (non-existent) 'friendship' with William Shatner has been explicitly planted by the end of Jack Quaid's dedicated segment. That it has been discussed and planned prior to the show is obvious. And this time, Josh Horowitz wasn't even subtle - he announced the topic way before it 'spontaneously' popped into the conversation (39:42):

Transcription follows:

Josh Horowitz (JH): 'So, what's the dream for further voiceover roles, do you want a Pixar movie, do you want Outlander -the cartoon, what do you want?'

[laughter throughout the panelists]

S: 'Oh, I'm a Star Trek fan, actually' [women in the audience boo and shout - I wonder why, seriously], 'I am a Star Trek fan, I grew up watching Next Gen, so maybe Below Decks is... come on, guys.. '

[Note: yeah, he's such a fan, he has no idea the correct name of the cartoon spin-off, in which Jack Quaid has a voiceover role, is Star Trek: Lower Decks]

JH: 'We'll get him out in a second' [note: Jack Quaid], we'll talk some Star Trek, amazing...'

See? Not even subtle, if you ask me. I think this is something S wanted out for a good while now. It doesn't erase or even ease the pain and the trauma brought to so many people in this fandom by a pair of idiotic bullies, but I think it was very brave of him and, at any rate, it's better later than never.

And so, I waited. And waited. And waited. And then, here it went (01: 02: 54):

JH (consulting notes):' Um, we also should mention Star Trek: Lower Decks, we talked Star Trek a little bit earlier...'

Jack Quaid (JQ):'And, by, the way, this is the last season of Lower Decks, but we would have loved to have you! What the fuck, I didn't know you watched the show! [inaudible, if someone caught it properly, something like 'that was so close', I'd love to know more and especially who said it - thank you] Unbelievable!'

S: ' That is so cool, man!'

JQ: 'Oh, thank you, dude! Oh, yeah, hey, let's get rendered (?), let's do this, we keep going, let's get him on, let's do it!'

JH: 'Isn't...isn't William Shatner a big Outlander fan? I feel like he is...'

S (very uneasy): 'Ah... erm... yeah... (scratches back of his head)...I hung out with him once, we went to his stables and I watched him like riding a horse and stuff.... And, I don't know, it was really weird, cause sometimes I wonder if I am speaking to him via messages and stuff, or if it's actually his assistant [JQ: 'oooh!'], I don't know...'

JQ: 'Does his assistant look a lot like him?'

S (chuckles): 'Kind of...Yeah, you can't tell them apart. Yeah, no, but I believe he was a fan, until he saw me ride'.

Despite the jocular tone, I think everything is pretty much clear, here. Definitely a prepared conversation, despite Horowitz's efforts to make it sound playful and spontaneous. Something he even took prior notes about and made sure to include in the panel - nothing more serious than that, in fact. As for the sad cretin mentioned there, what would be left to say... S sent the guy to Coventry in barely two phrases and actually poked fun at his appearance and demeanor ('you can't tell them apart'). So long for the fictional 'friendship' and 'communication' between S and The Assistant, so long for the braggadocio that horrible little man exhibited all the way, pretending he actually had a personal relationship with S (well, as we all see, he actually doesn't: he doesn't even have a name, in S's book, as acquaintances, let alone friends, do). His only claim to fame was what, in reality? Answering some X DMs sent by S to his employer? Hello? How about his threats, then? How about his repeated calumny of people he didn't even know, calling them 'crazies', 'in need of medical attention', etc?

And please, don't come after me with that sorry excuse that 'it's S's humor'. There was nothing humorous about it and I have proven it already.

I will leave you draw your own conclusions about the non existent friendship with Shatner, something that has probably been 'encouraged' ex nihilo by *** and taken to dramatic cheapness and conflict with and within this fandom by The Assistant himself, mainly, and his friend, the OG Troll. I do not remember hearing/seeing Shatner himself saying all those horrible things (please correct me if I am wrong), so until I am proven the contrary, it's only logical to have many thoughts and questions about these people's strange, very strange obsession with OL and its two main co-stars.

Not to mention the most idiotic threat I have ever read in this fandom. Something I fell upon by absolute chance this morning. I mean, I couldn't even believe people actually bought such primitive, kindergarten bullshit:

[July 29th, 2017]

' Do you still want OL to continue or not, people?'

Empty, illogical threats: why would *** cancel its actual cash cow show, just because two co-stars had something SO obvious, that people realized there was more than the official narrative to it? And what about the crazy story about Albrecht & co. investigating and allegedly menacing fans with going to court? Has this cretin ever realized the potential media scandal would have far outweighed the inanity of such a claim? That it could very well have a serious impact on ***'s company profile and future projects, even?

I really, really think both of these Unsavory Clowns should find another playground and another obsession to cling on (wasn't the first, would not be the last). Elsewhere. In a galaxy far, far away.

PS: Thank you, regular attendee who bravely spilled the tea and thank you, old shipper who came forward and confirmed. And many heartfelt thanks to all of you shippers, old and new, who also bravely stepped forward with their personal take on everything these two have done to this place.

Dare we hope this is the beginning of the end? What is sure, is that no lies last forever. Or as we say in Romanian: minciuna are picioare scurte și adevărul o ajunge/'a lie's got short legs and truth will always catch up with it'.

[Later edit]: edited to add a new, improved clip that actually does include the entire conversation.

[obaex]

untouchable - rafe cameron

summary: when a fight breaks out at midsummers, an unexpected ally reminds you who you are and whose you are

word count: 2k

a/n: set during season 1 midsummers. indulging in all my favorite things about soft + protective rafe ♡

It was the perfect summer night.

Stars twinkled overhead and the deck of the Island Club was awash in the warm glow of hundreds of string lights that swayed gently in the breeze coming off the ocean. The slow, sweet melody that the band was playing swirled through the air and mixed with the chatter and laughter that surrounded Midsummers.

Your arms wrapped around Rafe’s neck, cheek pressed to his as his arms embraced you, his hands resting on your lower back where his fingers traced small circles as you swayed back and forth. Your eyes fluttered closed as you relaxed into him. You could smell his expensive cologne, his signature scent that was so overwhelmingly him it clouded your head. At this distance, you could feel the heat coming off of his body, feel him hum happily against you as you ran your fingers through the hair at the base of his neck.

He shifted slightly, lowering his lips against your ear as he whispered, “You look beautiful tonight.” You smiled widely and laughed quietly as a blush rose to your cheeks. “I know I’ve said it about five times already, but I’m going to keep telling you, gorgeous. You’re the most beautiful girl here, and I’m damn lucky to be by your side. Tonight… always.” You pulled back to look at him, wanting to see his azure blue eyes sparkle, which they did, with love, with admiration, and with a hint of mischief as he took you in. He leaned down to kiss you, letting his lips linger just on top of yours, brushing them agonizingly close, but not letting them touch, teasing you as his lips curled into a smile against yours, knowing how much this drove you crazy, how much he drove you crazy before he relented; he was never one to deny you what you wanted. His lips worked against yours like no one was watching, warm and soft. He tasted sweet like champagne and your head was spinning. You had lost count of the number of times he had kissed you, but you never got tired of the way it made you feel, like you were floating. You nipped his lip lightly, playfully, and you could feel his hands grip the back of your dress as he tried to restrain himself. “Mmpf you have no idea what you do to me. I will throw you over my shoulder right now if you keep that up” he said between the kisses that you continued to press against his lips.

“I’ll just have to save it for later” you said slyly as you looked up at him with your doe eyes.

“I can have you in the car, to Tanneyhill, and in my bed in 15 minutes” he said seriously, even as his signature smirk rested on his lips, and you laughed. “11 actually, final estimate.”

“I’m having fun, Rafe, we can be patient.”

“Patience is not a strength of mine” he replied, chuckling. That much you knew well.

The band switched to a more upbeat song and people began shifting around the dance floor.

“Drink?” Rafe asked.

“Yes, please” you replied.

He pressed another warm, sincere kiss to your lips. “Be right back, pretty girl” he said as he shifted towards the bar.

You scanned the party quickly, eyes landing on Rafe’s sister Sarah and you wandered over to keep her company. “Dare I ask where Topper is?” you said jokingly. She looked over at you and laughed, rolling her eyes. You two had a close relationship; in many ways you were like the older sister she never had, she confided in you more than anyone else, so you knew all about John B at this point. It didn’t surprise you that she had distanced herself from her boyfriend tonight, and it didn’t surprise you when John B’s best friend approached her, casually brandishing a note in her direction.

“I’ve got a uh note from Vlad” he said, eyeing her knowingly. She was grinning from ear to ear as she took it from him and began reading. JJ’s eyes shifted from her to you, recognizing you immediately.

“Future Mrs. Cameron? Lovely to see you here tonight” he said.

Your eyes narrowed slightly at the nickname, knowing he didn’t mean it as a compliment, but you nodded kindly at him in response.

“Aww, what, that’s all I get? Boyfriend won’t let you talk to me? I’m surprised he left your side for more than two minutes.”

Sarah’s head shot up at his mocking tone as she smacked him on the arm, “JJ” she said, “leave her alone.”

“What!” he said, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. “If I was dating the hottest girl on the island, I wouldn’t let her out of my sight either!”

You rolled your eyes.

“Seriously, sweetheart, when you get tired of the hair gel and inevitably mediocre sex, call me” he said, lifting his fingers to his ear like a phone.

“What? –” you started to say angrily, when JJ glanced over your shoulder, eyes widening as he began to take a couple of steps back.

You felt a warm hand slide around your waist as Rafe appeared by your side, eyes transfixed on the boy in front of him.

“What the fuck did you just say to her?” he said, his voice calm, his tone even, the control he had in the moment somehow more frightening than the alternative.

“Ya know, I’m on the clock right now, I should get back—” JJ said, pointing over his shoulder, quickly trying to backpedal.

“Nah, you know, I really want to know what you said to my girlfriend. I want to know why you thought you could talk to her, or even look at her for that matter?” Rafe continued, his hand slipping off your waist as he walked towards JJ, his imposing figure looming over him.

“My mistake” JJ said, holding his hands out in front of him “thought this was a free country for a second, but I’ll know better next time.”

Rafe laughed and you could tell there wasn’t an ounce of humor in it.

“Next time? Next time. Right, right… There’s not going to be a next time, Maybank. Stay the fuck away from her” he said, the threat lingering in the air, the dancefloor now quiet as people caught on to their argument.

JJ eyed Rafe carefully before nodding, and just as Rafe was ready to bury his anger for the sake of saving your night, just as he was ready to go back to dancing with you, maybe even convince you to leave early with him, JJ said, “But I mean, can you blame me? In a dress like that? She’s practically begging for it.”

Rafe lunged before anyone could grab him and several people near you screamed. He tackled JJ to the ground and landed three solid right-hooks to his face before security arrived and pulled them apart.

“This isn’t over, Maybank!” he shouted as JJ spit blood on the ground at Rafe’s feet, causing him to jerk in the grip of the security guard all over again.

“Sir,” security said, “please follow me” he said, escorting Rafe firmly off the dance floor as JJ was pulled in the opposite direction.

“What!?” Rafe said, “I’m a member here, he was harassing my girlfriend!”

“Sir, please, just follow me” he insisted.

Rafe’s eyes met yours quickly as he was ushered away, afraid that he had ruined your night. “M’sorry baby, m’so sorry” he said quickly.

You tried to reassure him, shaking your head, “It’s okay, Rafe.”

“I’ll be right back, I promise” he said.

You worked your bottom lip nervously back and forth with your teeth as you watched him go before you became all too aware of the silence that surrounded you. As you brought your attention back to the party, you realized nearly every set of eyes was on you, watching you after what had just occurred. You felt the heat of their critical gaze, as every person formed their own thoughts about Rafe, about you, as they whispered amongst themselves. You tried to hold your head high as your chin began to quiver.

“Don’t give them the satisfaction” said a quiet voice over your shoulder. You turned to see Rose walking up beside you, her eyes glaring at the people around you, daring them to say something, to you or to her. One by one as she met their eyes they turned back to their conversations.

You swallowed your emotions. You had never spent much time with Rose, but now you were overwhelmingly grateful for her company, her support. 

She turned her gaze on you as she took a sip of her champagne. “They’ll never understand” she said, “they think they do, but they don’t. They think they know everything” she paused, her eyes narrowing at a group of girls who were whispering nearby. They immediately stopped talking under her gaze and shuffled away. She returned her focus to you.

“They think we’re crazy, you and me. To be in love with men with such a capacity for anger, for violence. But what they fail to see is that these are the same men who won’t hesitate to do what needs to be done, for their families, for you, for me. They love and hate in equal measure. And nothing in this world compares to that kind of love, does it?” she asked, sipping her champagne again as she eyed you conspiratorially. You had never spent any time thinking about the fact that Rose Cameron might be the only person who knew exactly what it felt like to be you sometimes.

“Rafe is so much like his father,” she continued, “that’s why they’re always at each other’s throats, that’s why he’s the hardest on him. That’s also why I know exactly what’s going on in that boy’s mind when he looks at you…” she smiled, pausing. “You’ll find out soon enough that being Mrs. Cameron comes with a lot of attention, and a lot of perks” she added, winking. Your eyes widened in surprise as you glanced at her, did she know something you didn’t?

“If it isn’t blatantly obvious to them, it’s blatantly obvious to me that that boy would burn the world to the ground for you” she said shaking her head as she smiled. “Lucky girl” she whispered, pressing a kiss to your cheek as she walked away.

Her words took a moment to sink in, but then you realized how right she was.

With your head held high you made your way past the remaining onlookers, and inside the clubhouse. You followed the reverberating sounds of raised voices to find Rafe arguing vehemently with two security guards. All three turned to look at you as you approached them.

“M’am” said one of the guards, nodding politely.

“Baby…” Rafe said as he looked at you, apology written all over his face. You smiled warmly at him, taking his hand in your own before turning to the security guards.

“We’re leaving” you said resolutely. One of them looked like he wanted to argue with and you put a hand up to stop him, cutting him off before he could start.

“We’re leaving and you better believe you will be hearing from Ward Cameron about how his son, his family was treated on the night dedicated to recognizing his contributions to this community. About how you let a member of the staff harass me and then deigned to humiliate Rafe when he tried to help. And I’m fine by the way, thank you for asking. Oh wait, you didn’t ask, did you? Stellar performance tonight, gentlemen” you said.

With that, you tucked your arm into Rafe’s and the two of you walked confidently through the front doors.

When you had made it outside, Rafe turned to look at you, glancing briefly back inside then to you again. “Holy shit” he said, “where the hell did that come from?” he was smiling widely at you, practically glowing with admiration, “and why was it so fucking hot?”

You shrugged casually before turning to face him, a proud smirk on your lips as you gripped the lapels of his jacket. “Someone reminded me just how lucky I am to have you, Rafe Cameron” you said, pressing a sincere but passionate kiss to his lips before continuing, “It’s not that I needed the reminder… it’s more that I needed to remind myself who I am, what I am when I’m with you.”

“And that is…?” he asked, pulling your body flush against his, his lips hovering just over yours as his eyes twinkled.

“Untouchable” you whispered, pressing your lips to his and squealing when he scooped you into his arms and walked you to his truck.

taglist: @ietss, @gillybear17, @palmwinemami, @sweetestdesire, @softcoremaybank, @diary-of-jj, @m-indkiller, @one-sweet-gubler

[licorice-tea]

The Captain Who Loved Me (1/2)

Pairing: Trafalgar Law x reader

Content: Angst, Reader is hurt/unconscious (briefly), reader tries to run away from their problems, ends up in a dangerous situation, themes of fear/ danger!, fluff afterwards, sorry for any grammatical or spelling errors!

Word Count: ~1.6k

A/N: Hey… Sorry it’s been so long! My life has been busy, to say the least. Borderline chaotic, but I don’t want to make it out to be a bad thing when there are so many amazing things and people in my life right now. However, there have been a few personal events that have made me less motivated/ less focused on writing. I’m sorry for making you all wait for updates/ requests, but I genuinely am just lacking a lot of interest in writing fanfic at the moment. Still, J appreciate all of your support so so much <3 It makes my day when I go on this app and see that people are still enjoying things I’ve written! So, I hope you enjoy this one too. (Part 1/2 bc i want to do a shorter ending.)

Part 3

Law hadn't thought that when you said you would “go,” you wouldn't really try to leave. And in all fairness, neither had you. You just started walking away from him, way too peeved to even look back or slow down when you heard his stuttered “wait!” And when you got back to your cabin, you picked up a backpack. Then you had filled it with only the essentials (the same way you would pack to go inland for a day or possibly longer.) And finally, with no purpose in your plan besides getting away for a little while and clearing your mind, you headed below deck to the Soldier Dock System.

Franky named this deck the Soldier Dock System because, as he had once explained to you, all of the smaller vehicles housed within the Sunny are like her soldiers. The memory makes you smile as you quietly open the door and close it behind you, then stroll along the small walkway until you spot what you came down here for in the first place: The Mini Merry 2. She bobs in shallow water and seems to call to you; “Get in! Let’s go!”

You’re too tired to make the right decision, so you quickly open channel 2 of the dock system, drop your bag into the passenger seat, and climb in after. An opening on the side of the Sunny lets in higher waters, which carry the Mini Merry out to sea…

~

“Have you seen y/n?”

Zoro’s head snaps up to the other swordsman. The two don’t converse much outside of what's necessary, so he's surprised to see the equally stoic man standing over him while he “naps” (keeps watch) in the crows nest. He shakes his head.

“Nope.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be keeping watch?”

“Yeah, on the ocean. Not my own crew mates.”

Law scoffs, and mutters; “Thanks for nothing.”

Zoro can tell the other captain is annoyed for some reason, and decides to throw him a bone. “Traffy!”

“What?”

“Check the lower levels. They might be hanging out in someone’s workshop… or whatever.”

Law regards Zoro with a suspicious gaze, but it soon turns to one of quiet thanks. He nods and leaves through the hatch in the crows nest.

Cool sea air hits him stronger than expected as soon as he exits the confines of the crows nest. With one hand and both feet planed (somewhat) firmly on the rope ladder, Law leans back to view the weather. A storm is brewing on the horizon, which shouldn’t be any problem for a ship as massive and advanced as the Thousand Sunny. The navigator/thief had briefed everyone on board on the gloomy weather that night after dinner, and though Law had been too distracted by thoughts of you, he had managed to pay a little bit of attention for the sake of important information. You hadn’t been at the impromptu meeting regarding the sea and sky’s conditions, so he had just assumed you were probably resting in your cabin already. No reason to worry over your safety if you were already fast asleep, right?

But as Law continues to survey the waters surrounding his temporary residence, he spots an anomaly. A tiny boat, rocking on the water as the ocean seems to send more violent waves its way. With squinted eyes, Law observes the miniature ship. It’s hard to see through the oncoming rain, but he can make out the lone passenger’s bent knees. They’re apparently trying to brace themselves as they struggle with the steering mechanism at the front of the boat, and their hair is whipped every which way about their face by winds that must be much stronger that far out at sea. It’s hard to make out their features because of the rain that comes down in sheets over their mysterious figure, but when he finally catches a glimpse of their face, Law’s heart drops to the pit of his stomach.

He watches in horror as, what he now recognizes as your ship, is tossed back and forth on the tumultuous waves. You look over your shoulder and back at the Sunny, before you lose your balance. But your head seems to be struck by something at the front of the ship during your short fall, based on the way you first wobble, almost find your footing by leaning forwards, then jolt backwards. Law yells your name at the top of his lungs, but you do not move.

~

When you open your eyes to find yourself tucked into your bed, you think nothing of it. That is, until the throbbing pain in the center of your forehead reveals itself to you. Then the memories of a storm all come flooding back: the freedom you had felt in your first few moments in open water, alone with your thoughts. How quickly that sense of calmness had turned to panic as the weather changed in an instant, leaving you to desperately try to steer back towards the Sunny in a boat no taller than yourself. Slipping on the small deck, only for your head to hit something and… black out. And you remember Law’s voice, too; he had sounded so distant that it must have been your imagination .

The soft creak of your bedroom door draws you from the rush of memories, and you look up to find Chopper making his way into your room with a tray. He doesn’t realize your eyes are open until he’s set it down on a bedside table, and climbed up onto your bed with a stethoscope in hand.

“Y/n! You’re awake!” he gasps.

You offer a weak smile and attempt to sit up, but the reindeer gently pushes you back down. “Chopper… What happened?”

“You had an accident during the storm 3 days ago-“

“3 days ago?”

“Yes, Nami briefed the crew on it. But then Traffy found you on the Mini Merry 2, a mile from the ship!”

“I- I didn’t know there would be a storm…”

Chopper frowns while placing his stethoscope on your chest. You take 2 deep breaths in and he nods to himself before simply sitting beside you. “What were you doing out there?”

You shrug, “I just wanted to clear my head.”

He pays your arm, “I don’t know what’s going on between you and Traffy, but he cares for you a lot. He used his devil fruit to save you in the middle of the ocean, which… could have ended badly.”

This strikes a chord within you. Of course you knew Law cared for you to some degree, but knowing that he put his own safety on the line to help you in your time of need… Perhaps it was wrong of you to assume he was selfish and cold for refusing to admit what was so glaringly obvious to everyone else. What is now so clear to you, too.

He loves you.

“Oh… And is he-“

“He’s fine, but I prescribed him some much needed rest from coming in contact with sea water.”

Chopper finishes examining you and gives you some pain medication for your head, then leaves you alone to properly wake up and get yourself together. To no surprise, your alone time doesn’t last long as an influx of visitors find their way to your cabin.

First are Nami and Robin, who knew you were awake from hearing your voice through shared walls. They come with a small bouquet of flowers from Robin’s garden in a pretty little decorative vase, and each make themselves comfortable in your room. Though the door is closed, Luffy excitedly barges in soon after, followed by Usopp, then Chopper again. He scolds the two young men for disturbing your peace and possibly riling you up, but you assure the even younger doctor that it’s more than fine. Because, in your opinion, there’s nothing like your nakama’s company to raise your spirits. Zoro must have wandered in at some point and decided to take a nap on your floor, which you only realize when Sanji opens the door and hits the swordsman’s leg when he (gently) kicks it open. They resolve to only glare at each other for a moment before Sanji hands you a cup of something warm and sweet, “For someone warm and sweet.”

The 8 of you spend some time chatting and enjoying your company before you find the courage to ask, “Where is everyone else?”

“Jimbei is steering the ship-“

“Brook is keeping watch-

“And Franky is working below deck. Something about improving the Mini Merry 2… But that’s not really what you wanted to know, is it?”

You feel your face heat up as you meet Robin’s all-knowing eye and shake your head “no.” She smiles at you and giggles pass between your crew mates.

Your friends file out of your room (or are ushered out by Nami and Robin, rather, who insist that you should get some more rest.) But soon enough, there’s yet another knock at your door. Your breath hitches, as you feel you already know who’s on the other side…

“Come in.”

Taglist: @augustanna @lavanderdreamve @pinksaiyans @khaleesihavilliard @jennapancake @pinki-minki @loserbee14 @theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction @nyxlai @mrs-monkey-d-luffy @pi-crust @bookboyfriendssaveme @dark-swedish-suitcase-blog

[drghostwrite]

Out at sea…

Disclaimer: So a long time ago I read a fic about Emma having her and Hooks baby on the boat and thought I might twist it a little and give us another chapter to our Regina x reader stories.

Pairing: Regina Mills x reader

Summary: After a hard stretch of weeks the family has a day out but what happens when one member decides to finally make an appearance.

******************************************************** You stood on the ship deck near the bow watching the sea roll out in front of you, being 8 1/2 months pregnant most people would get sea sick but instead you stood letting it calm you. Being commander of armies in the enchanted forest you did a lot of traveling and you grew up on a boat your mother being a notorious pirate, so it always had a way of taking you back to your roots. You felt a pair of arms wrap around you from behind and someone’s chin rested on your shoulder, “enjoying the view?”

“mmm…” you said in response pressing you head into her cheek. “It has a way of taking me back.” You then fully turned in her arms allowing your body to relax into her, taking in the sight before you long black wind blown hair with her deep brown eyes, she didn’t wear makeup and you smiled at how she let out a smirk her perfect white teeth peaking through.

“Do you ever miss it?” She asked holding you the best she could your bump in the way.

“The enchanted forest? Sometimes.”

“Really?” She asked and you pulled back slightly looking over each other features.

“Yea but that’s not my home anymore, I’m not that person.”

“I can understand that.”

“Regina, listen to me love, I wouldn’t go back to how it was, coming here gave me this beautiful life, and friends and most importantly you, I would never go back if it meant losing you or this baby.”

“You are both my entire world and Henry, I couldn’t lose any of you.” Before you could both say anything else you heard clashing of wood behind you, turning around you watched as Henry and David fought with wooden swords, Emma laughed with Snow as Hook stood managing the helm.

“Hey Y/N care to join?” David called to you, as Henry ran towards you with and extra sword.

You laughed as you and Regina made you way towards the group, “You know its a good thing I’m pregnant otherwise I would come kick your butt.”

“I’d like to see that.” Henry said as you rustled his hair.

“Soon buddy, and I’ll show your grandpa how it’s done.”

“Oh yea!” He said excitedly running back towards the action. Regina had found a spot next to Emma and Snow motioned next to her. You made your way over and slowly lowered yourself.

“So how you feeling mama?” Emma asked.

“As can be expected.” You shrugged.

“I’m sure you’re ready to go though.” Snow mentioned.

“Oh you have no idea.” You shifted uncomfortably in the seat, Regina eyed you carefully.

“how much longer?”

“Depends they said 2-4 weeks Zelena is thinking I’ll be overdue.”

“I’m sure it’ll work out, Charming babies have a tendency to come early.”

“Well luckily she’s not a Charming.” Regina laughed, but you shifted uncomfortably again.

“let me tell you though I don’t think I can do another month, every muscle aches all the time and don’t get me started on the smells, I feel superhuman some days.” Everyone laughed, you all sat and enjoyed the sun before the sky started to cloud over slightly making a cool breeze blow, you let it soothe you but it wasn’t long before your muscles started to ache and you were shifting again, you decided to walk it off. Making your way towards the helm to talk to Killian the other three ladies talking, Regina kept a close eye on you, watching you talk to Hook.

“Hey love you okay?”

“Good as I’ll ever be, just a little sore.”

“You don’t get seasick do you I mean with the baby and all.”

you chuckled, “No I was practically raised at sea so I find it calming.”

“raised at sea?”

“My mother was a pirate, I was her only daughter and she wasn’t going to stop for anyone.”

“Sounds exciting.”

“Yea well everyone has their skeletons.” You felt a hand come to your back, you turned being met by Snow.

“Hey you okay, Regina is down there watching you like a hawk.”

“That’s my wife… I’m just really sore and sitting there wasn’t helping, besides like I said earlier Zelena thinks I have at least two weeks.”

“True but babies come on their own time, she’s just being careful, she cares for you and this baby a lot.”

“I don’t know what I ever did to deserve her.” You both smiled, you watched as the sky was still cloudy, one wave rolled just enough and came up over the side of the ship splashing Henry and David below Regina and Emma laughed at the boys but you were preoccupied by the puddle at your feet.

“Only our boys, am I right?” Snow laughed, but got no response from you, she turned and saw the puddle at your feet.

“Wait that splash wasn’t that big…Y/N?”

“Okay scratch the whole two week thing I think my water just broke.”

“Oh god okay, Regina!” As soon as Snow called she was bounding up the stairs Emma hot on her heels.

“what’s going on?”

“I…uh… mm… my water just…uhhh god here comes one.” You said reaching out, Regina catching you as you dug your nails into her forearm but she didn’t care.

“Looks like another family member wanted to make their appearance today.” Snow said a hand on your back as you leaned into Regina both of them trying to guide you down stairs, you heard Hook call to Emma to put you in his chambers as they’d have more room.

You could hear everyone frantically moving around and it wasn’t helping as you tried breathing through contractions.

“Wait…” you said making it into the large room the bed in the middle, hook redid the inside after permanently moving in with Emma and made this more of a luxury boat, on with large ornate rooms made for comfort which right now you had mixed feelings about.

“What wrong?” Regina asked looking at you.

“Zelena…” you said trying to catch your breath, “You need to call Zelena.”

“Why… aren’t we going to make it back in time?” Emma said looking between the three of you.

Regina and Snow shared a look, “Emma were 6 hours off shore, this baby might not wait that long.”

“Um….hhhnghhh…” you tried speaking another contraction interrupting you.

“it’s okay love.” Regina said feeling your nails dig into her arm again, grip tightening as you battled another contraction that brought you to your knees beside the bed.

“No….no, Zelena thinks there’s complications with the…I…she needs to be here…please you need to call her.”

“Comp…complications?” Regina said, she was so focused but you saw the war starting behind her eyes, she thought about losing you or this baby, she couldn’t do that not again, she’s fought so hard for a happy ending.

“Regina…baby?” You said squeezing her hand and pulling her out of her ugly daydream, “it might not be anything but…” you winced through another contraction.

“Better safe than sorry…” another female voice filled the room and everyone turned their heads.

“Zelena?” Regina looked at her sister, hopeful and confused.

“Hey sis, Hook called,” the redhead looked sympathetically at the younger raven-haired woman who was still guarding you with her body. Before anyone could say anything else you let out a loud guttural moan filling the room. Zelena quickly rushed to your side, placing her bag on the bed in front of you, as you were currently knelt down gripping the blankets on the edge not wanting to move.

"Okay mama just breathe through it... how long has she been contracting?" she looked around the room, all faces showing that no one was sure.

"I've been having braxton hicks, or that's what I thought they were, they started around 8 this morning, and my water broke about 20-30 minutes ago."

"It's 4pm... you've been contracting for 8 hours."

"Y/N, why didn't you say anything?" Regina asked concerned.

"I didn't want to worry anyone and you all were so excited about today, and after the past couple of weeks we really needed it... besides I've treated so many first time moms and they always mistake pre-term contractions for the real deal."

"Darling..."

"I...mnhnhhh...I promise it wasn't...hnhgnhhh."

"Okay mama, these babies aren't waiting I'm going to need to check you out." without thinking about it Zelena let out the little secret you’d both been keeping, helping you drop your pants and get up on the bed she covered your legs with a blanket as you fell back against the pillows.

“Zelena did you just say babies?” Snow asked shocked.

“Um…what’s she talking about? Zelena what does she mean?”

“Twins… we’re having twins.” You strained out sitting up on your elbows.

“I’m sorry I only found out a few weeks ago and Y/N had me promise.”

“that was before she was going to go into labor 6 hours from Storybrooke and on a boat!” Regina yelled.

“Babe… I didn’t wanna get your hopes up, not until we were sure…gahhhhh.”

“She’s right we weren’t sure how it happened but after the run in with our mother something with our magics altered the pregnancy, I wanted to make sure everything was okay with the babies.” Zelena explained as you fought through another contraction.

“Talk later… these babies are coming now.”

“Okay breathe I need to check how dilated you are,” Regina moved to your side while Zelena dug through her bag pulling on gloves, “okay mama little pinch and pressure, just gotta check here.” You nodded letting out a small whimper as you felt her checking you out. “Okay Y/N you’re a lot farther than I thought.”

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

“it means that your baby’s head is almost crowning so this is typically when you start pushing.”

“Wait I thought we had a couple hours?” Regina asked worried, her worst fear was coming back, she couldn’t lose any of you and being out at sea was amplifying all those fears.

“Right now that’s not the issue, these babies are coming whether we want them to or not.” Zelena said trying to snap Regina out of it.

“What do you need from us?” Snow asked into the room.

“Well Snow I’m going to need your hands, Emma I want you to take care of everything above deck, I don’t care what you have to do get us back ASAP…” both women nodded and moved quickly. “Okay now Y/N I need some pushes from you so we can deliver baby number one.” You nodded and some screaming a pushing and a little blood later and cried filled the room as your little boy was born, things moved quickly Snow wrapping him up and holding him while more contractions rolled over you.

It wasn’t long before you felt baby two getting ready, but you watched as she leaned and said something to Snow “Wh-What’s going on?”

“Y/N I need you to…” Zelena started.

“Wh-What’s going on with my baby?”

“Your baby is breech, which worries me with being on a boat and far from the hospital.”

“S-so whagahh- does that mean?”

“Y/N…”

“Zelena do what you need to do, if you need to cut, cut.”

“WHAT NO!” Regina yelled.

“No no nobody is getting cut, I’m not doing a cesarean on a boat, I can do an external version but it’s going to hurt like hell.”

“Do it!.. whatever you need to do, do it.” She nodded and placed her hands on your exposed bump feeling for the baby, she had one hand higher and one lower and tried rotating the baby and she wasn’t wrong it did hurt, Regina was on the bed next you and you turned clinging to her, face pressed against her chest, one arm folded under you as the other gripped onto her bicep, nails digging into her arm as she held you.

“Okay I think baby’s turned, Y/N I need some really big pushes from you.” Two pushes later and you were so close to holding your baby but instead another complication.

“hold on, don’t push, stop pushing.”

“bu—but… what’s wrong?” Zelena looked up at you sympathetically, she placed a hand on your knee.

“The baby… it’s the cord, it’s wrapped around its neck.”

“Zelena save my…nnnghh…save my baby…”

“I will…err… I am.” You could feel pressure and she tried maneuvering your baby and getting the cord loose.

“okay im going to need a really big, big push to help your baby… can you do that for me?” She asked and you nodded, “okay on count of three, 1…2…” you pushed with everything you had, delivering your baby and she quickly started working you sobbed in your wife’s arms as you didn’t hear anything.

after what seemed like an eternity a strong cry filled the room, “yes baby girl, yes, oh God okay… congratulations you have a beautiful baby girl.” She said handing her to the both of you, tears rolled down your faces.

4 hours later you found yourself laid up in the maternity suite at the hospital Zelena was evaluating you to make sure everything went okay as your babies got checked it by the nurses, Regina sat next to you filling out their names on the birth certificate, refusing to leave your side.

[outerbankies]

new light: head over heels — rafe cameron

new light masterlist

summary: You and Rafe make your first return to the Outer Banks after moving away for good, and it doesn't take either of you long to remember all of the reasons you left.

warnings: alcohol and swearing might be it?

a/n: HI HI HI!!! it's happening!!! posting this behemoth (22k-ish last i checked) and dipping immediately, because i'm still not done with season 3 and don't want to get spoiled on here. thank you SO MUCH for holding on for this one - and congratulations to everyone who voted on season 3 arriving before the thanksgiving fic lol. see u soon!!! (this takes place in new light present day)

“Are we really doing this?”

You roll your eyes, albeit fondly, as this is at least the fifth time Rafe has asked you the same question in the last two weeks. The first time was immediately after the flights were booked, the second before he formally requested the vacation time at work. He asked you for the third time when you requested his help in dragging your suitcases out of the closet, which he did begrudgingly. The next time, the fourth, was as you both waited tired and bleary-eyed at your plane’s gate, bright and early this morning at the airport. 

Now he asks you again, as the ferry between Chapel Hill and the Outer Banks starts pulling up to the dock. Passengers have already begun their descent down to the lower levels, to get their cars and queue up to disembark. But you and your boyfriend remain on the upper deck, observing your hometown as the ferry flushes itself to the dock.

“How many times do I have to tell you?” you ask, arms crossing over your chest.

“As many times as it takes for me to believe this was the right choice,” Rafe sighs, turning to look out at the coastline, back the way you came.

“We’re here now,” you point out unhelpfully. “We’re doing this. It’s only four days, baby. We’ve got this.”

“Four nights,” he corrects you, with a furrow in his brows. “Five days, if you count today.”

“Rafe, I’m not your enemy.”

He looks down at you, and you hate that you can already see all the signs of his stress. The missed signals, the tightness in his face and in his shoulders. It was an instant physical reaction to being back in town for Thanksgiving, a few measly months after you’d both left it behind. 

“I know,” Rafe says softly. He places a hand between your shoulder blades, guiding you into his hold, the beer he’d bought at concessions placed on a hightop table behind you. “Hey, c’mere. I know.”

As much as you know it’s your turn to be the strong one, you let him comfort you selfishly, just for a moment. You weren’t near the state Rafe was in, but you’d be lying if you weren’t feeling the nerves as soon as you boarded the ferry, too. It didn’t help that you’d just discovered the airline had left your bag in California, which Rafe swore was a bad omen. You don’t care what he thought it was, as long as he understood you’d be living in a combination of his clothes and whatever you left behind in your childhood bedroom until the airline could fix it.

At least you both have Captain for emotional support, sitting patiently between your legs, where he usually seems to fit himself. You’d become those people you’d always made fun of in your head, the ones that couldn’t leave their house without their dog. Sending him to the cargo hold in his crate was about as much distance as either of you could handle.

“Holy shit,” Rafe suddenly says, the hand he’d been rubbing your back with slowing to a stop. 

“What?” 

“Don’t look now, but our friends are fucking insane,” he chuckles.

Of course you look immediately—and sure enough, Kelce and Topper (plus Blythe), and Gretchen and Margot are all grouped together on the dock. You feel yourself smile involuntarily at them, tucking your face into Rafe’s chest bashfully. “They’re so embarrassing.”

He’s still laughing in disbelief, the sound resonating in your chest. “Why did they all come?” 

“‘Cause they love us,” you say simply. You have no idea how you’ll all fit in however many cars, or who’s even supposed to be driving you home, but you can’t find it in you to care as you finally disembark from the ferry with your dog, Rafe on your heels with his bag. 

“Finally,” Kelce says dramatically, once you approach the group. “I was starting to think you two were finally rain-checking my party.” 

“We’d never,” you say, just as dramatically, before you’re letting yourself get crushed in a group hug from your girlfriends.

“Can confirm,” Margot whispers conspiratorially to the group. “No baby bump.”

“You guys,” you laugh, pushing her wandering hand away from your middle. “Come on.”

“It’s a valid fear!” Gretchen cries incredulously, pressing kisses to both of your cheeks.

Then you trade spots with Rafe, to squish Topper and Blythe in your arms as well, and they squish you back just as hard. “We missed you guys so much. Please come visit.”

“You come visit,” Topper counters. 

“Tried a New England winter once, and I’m good for life, man,” Rafe says, before bringing Margot and Gretchen into his arms. “You guys have to come out.”

“Kelso,” you sigh, surprised to feel a lump in your throat when your best friend hugs you for the first time in you don’t know how long. Kelce’s career took him to Texas after college, and you’d definitely seen him the least out of all of them in the past year or so. “I missed you.”

“Missed you even more. How are you guys?” he asks, words coming out garbled through the squished cheeks you’re currently giving him. “How’s Rafe? Or do we talk later?”

“He’s good,” you tell him honestly. “On edge, you know. But good.”

“And how are you?” he says quieter, and you have to roll your eyes at his earnestness, if even just to prevent yourself from actually crying.

“I’m good, too,” you say, linking a pinky with his quickly. 

Kelce breaks out into a grin, squeezing your pinky back before bringing you into another hug. “You look a hell of a lot better than the last time I picked you up here.”

You detangle your hand from his in order to smack him on the back of his head while he just howls with laughter. It’s easy to look back on it—two years ago now—and laugh. But Kelce had been there for you and your broken heart, and sometimes you think his tough love was half the reason you and Rafe even made it back to each other. 

“Very clever,” you concede, before remembering something with a spark of excitement. “But tell me about you! When does she get here?”

Kelce’s cool demeanor fades when he becomes embarrassed immediately, reaching down to find solace in petting Captain, who seems to be just as excited about the reunion. “Wednesday morning. I’m driving out to the airport to get her.”

Therese was the first girl Kelce had actually told you about since high school, let alone brought home to meet everyone. You were so excited when he called to tell you that Rafe made you  promise to manage your expectations, but you couldn’t help it. 

“So she’ll make the party,” you realize excitedly. “Gosh, I can’t wait to meet her.”

“I’m nervous. Nervous, but excited,” he admits. “I don’t wanna overwhelm her. She’s meeting my parents, and then all of you idiots. All in one day.”

“Hey,” Rafe protests, suddenly slotting back into your side once he’s done fake boxing with Topper. “We are not.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it,” Kelce says, rolling his eyes. “Come on, you guys are riding with me. We have a table at the Island Club an hour from now, think you can manage that?”

You cut your eyes to Rafe, and he already looks a little loosened up after seeing everyone, and he just nods, shrugging his shoulders as if to say why not. “We can say hi to your parents and freshen up. Wheeze has school and Sarah won’t be in until tonight anyway.” 

It seems Rafe has no such plans to see his father any sooner than he has to, possibly not before Thanksgiving at all, you realize. You didn’t even bother to ask Rafe if he’d prefer to stay in his old room at Tannyhill or with you, knowing the answer already. But you’d naively hoped he’d feel comfortable enough to not avoid his father like the plague after some time away. 

“Yeah, we can do that,” you answer, looking back at Kelce with a smile to confirm. You let Captain into the backseat while Kelce takes Rafe’s bag, squealing in surprise when your boyfriend’s hands grip your waist firmly before you get in the car. 

“Hey,” he says quietly, just for you. The sea breeze has already mussed up his hair, and there’s something so comforting about coming back here with him, knowing you’ve always got someone in your corner. Rafe must agree, because he presses his forehead to yours quickly. “I love you.”

“I love you,” you say, giving him a peck modest enough that it won’t tick off Kelce or the rest of your friends piling into Topper’s Jeep beside you. “You can do this.”

“We can do this,” he corrects. “You know. I’m not letting you out of my sight.” 

— 

“I still can’t believe they put me up in the guest house,” Rafe whines, three Bloody Mary’s in, as you both exit the Island Club a few hours later. 

Kelce had given you the ride there, but you both opted for the walk back home, rather than wrangling any younger siblings for a ride. Dylan landed yesterday, but he wanted to have a talk with your parents alone and you needed to stop in at the store anyway. 

Rafe reminded you on the flight that Rose had asked you to make a pie again this year, and Captain was antsy from all of the travel; giving him a second to trot around in the fresh air seemed like a good idea.

You maybe should’ve mentioned it to Rafe sooner, that your mom had been planning to have the guest house—not even one of the guest rooms, but the actual house, which was an entire backyard away from the main property—made up when you asked to have him stay with you for the holiday. But he was already hanging on by a thread about this trip, and you knew he’d beg even harder to cancel if he found out he wouldn’t be crashing with you.

But the shocked look on his face that he quickly tried to hide as he watched your mom tell Dylan to take his bags to the house had absolutely been a little bit worth it.

The displeased grumbling all throughout lunch, maybe not so much.

“She knows we’ve lived together for almost two years now, right? And that before that, we were visiting each other in college all the time?” he prattles on, words growing soft around the edges, not yet to the point of syrupy slow. “And that before that, I was in your bedroom every other night?” 

“Everything but that last one,” you wince.

“So it’s about the house,” he realizes, the two of you now standing outside of the grocery store.  “Her house,” you correct. “Not until we’re married. Maybe she’ll let it go when we’re engaged.” 

Rafe’s face turns mischievous, and you wish that second round of mimosas hadn’t let you let that slip. 

“Noted.”

You roll your eyes, feeling heat flush your cheeks. “Stop. Are you coming in, too? I only need a few things.”

“You go,” he says, not not grinning at your flustered state. He raises your intertwined hands between you, pressing a kiss to the back of yours. Your eyes catch on his notably bare left hand. “Captain’s gonna get snatched up if we leave him tied up out here.” 

“I’m still so sad you lost that ring,” you tell him, pouting. 

Rafe didn’t seem to mind much at all when the gold cigar band went missing after a morning surf, but you were really gonna miss seeing the trademark piece glinting on his hand in the sunlight, or pressing cold into your skin. You’d been looking for replacements ever since, but he was in no rush. 

“It really wasn’t that big of a deal,” he promises, eyes leaving yours.

“It was to me. You’ve worn it forever. I loved that one,” you say, tugging on his bare finger, tracing where the indent was slowly releasing from his skin; the tan-line was pretty horrendous too.

“I know you did,” Rafe teases. “You ripped it off my hand to try on all the time. Maybe you took it.”

“Did not!” you gasp, offended.

Rafe just rolls his eyes, finally kissing the pout off of your lips. “Go, c’mon. Pie won’t bake itself.” 

You hand over Captain’s leash and walk in, still feeling flustered, like you do every time Rafe starts to talk about rings. The way you just barely dodge his ass slap—outside of the local health food store, for god’s sake—doesn’t do anything to help.

Thanksgiving wasn’t for a few days, but Rose had raved and raved about the pumpkin pie you’d brought last year, and you were feeling the pressure—you knew you needed to get a jump on the shopping, so you’d have time to fuck it up at least three or four times before deeming one acceptable.

There’s only so many options for pumpkin puree, but you discriminate over them tirelessly, half because you’re never not set on impressing Rose, and half because your mind is still distracted by Rafe and his “noted.” Things were serious between you about as soon as you started dating, but he’d really been pushing the marriage thing lately.

“Y/n?”

You drop whatever can of pumpkin you’d most recently scrutinized into your basket in near shock, thankful it lands there and not on the floor, all over the shoes of you and Rafe’s ex-girlfriend.

“Chloe,” you say, forcing a smile amid the shock. “Wow, hi.”

“Hey,” she says, pushing her cart toward you. “What a trip.”

It’s the holidays and your town is small, you were bound to see some familiar faces this week whether you wanted to or not, but you’re still in disbelief. “Yeah, um, wow. How are you?”

“Great,” she says, her voice resonating so clearly that you believe her. “I live in New York now, I don’t know if you heard.”

You don’t make a habit of keeping tabs on Rafe’s exes these days, and you and Chloe were hardly ever friends to begin with, so you can answer this truthfully. “No, I hadn’t, actually. But that’s great. Do you like it?”

“Love it,” she corrects, stepping forward to gather a few cans of the puree you’d just been eyeing. She picks them out without a second thought, mixing brands and haphazardly throwing them into her cart, lacking a care in the world, oozing self-assuredness. “I just needed that quick pace, you know? Don’t take this the wrong way, but I always felt like life was too slow around here for me. I wasn’t made for the Stepford life.”

You scratch the back of your neck awkwardly, finally deciding on a couple of cans that look like they’d pass the test to sit in Rose’s pantry that’s always oscillating between the newest diet. “Uh, yeah. No, I get it. It’s always nice to be back for the holidays though. We just got in today.”

That seems to pique her interest, and your head falls forward slightly when you realize your mistake. “You and Rafe? Last I heard you still lived in town.” 

“We did,” you nod. “For a year after grad. But we moved to California at the end of the summer, so.” 

“Wow,” she says, and a small part of you is satisfied that she looks off-balance. Chloe Merrick was never like that. Maybe your teenage mind had exaggerated it at the time in some twisted game of self-comparison, but it looks like it still rang true as she stands before you. Her heels make her stand taller than you, allowing her to look directly down her nose. Her full face of makeup and shiny hair makes you regret letting Kelce rush you out of the house with minimal primping. It’s like she reads your mind, her eyes flicking over your outfit. “Ah, now the outfit makes sense.”

You blink, looking down at your leggings and back to her in silence.

“Well, the traveling and all,” she says awkwardly, like she expected you to agree. “But California, that’s fun. I never thought I’d see Rafe leave the OBX. And it’s nice that Ward lets him work remotely.” 

You can’t hide your discontent at that, because Chloe doesn’t know Rafe well enough at all anymore—and probably never really did, for that matter—to make assumptions about where he’d end up in life, or insinuate that he’d be under Ward forever. “He doesn’t work for his dad, actually.”

When she fish-mouths, you have to look away to not let it get to your head, focusing on the rest of your grocery list on your phone. 

But she clears her throat, and that perfect smile slots back into its rightful place. “Well, we can see how long that lasts.”

The last thing you want is for Chloe to think she’d made it under your skin, or that she’s in anyway correct about you or Rafe, or that you’d care at all what she’d think about either of you. So you cock your head to the side innocently, steeling your expression as best you can. “How do you mean?”

“Oh, be serious, Y/n,” she says, pretenses officially dropped. “Rafe got the perfect, cookie-cutter Figure 8 life he always wanted. And he got it with you. I doubt he even knows how to want anything else.”

Chloe and Rafe dated for six months. Six months of avoiding him, avoiding both of them, toiling over your feelings alone, and associating way too many soundtracks to your teenage angst with the entire situation that there’s still a few songs you won’t touch to this day. 

You’ve loved him for years, and she really thinks she knows him better.

“It’s a good thing you weren’t made for that life, then, isn’t it?” you say, slowly backing away. 

She falters, again, and you know thats your cue. “Nice seeing you, Chloe.” 

—

Spring Break, 6 years ago

“Can I sit here?”

Topper’s eyebrows lift in surprise, but he gestures to the seat across from him readily, tucking his outstretched legs in. “Of course you can.”

You cast one last look at the rest of the small, private plane—Gretchen and Margot, occupying the credenza, looking at you in utter confusion when you give them a half-assed shrug, Kelce looking similarly confused in the club seat opposite the aisle from Topper when you decline a seat near him too, and Rafe and Chloe toward the back, right across from the girls. 

You meant to get to the tarmac the earliest of all of your friends to pick your seat first. But you couldn’t get to bed early enough the night before and slept through almost all of your alarms, and somehow arrived last. 

“What, didn’t wanna watch them play footsie all flight?” Topper quips, following your gaze, and you’re reminded exactly why you chose to sit next to him. 

For the last three months that Rafe had been dating Chloe, everyone in your friend group had been treating you with kid gloves. Everyone except Topper Thornton. To be completely fair, Kelce knows you best of them all, and Gretchen and Margot may or may not have witnessed a drunken breakdown at a girls’ night two weeks ago (that they swore they’d never speak of). 

But there were still the sad eyes, the wayward glances whenever Chloe walked into the room, the less than discrete subject changes and conversation redirectors. You knew it came from a good place but you were sick of them assuming they knew your feelings. And you knew Topper would never dare assume your feelings, let alone act on it. 

He was a constant, the one you’d known longest out of all of them. But that didn’t mean you were the closest, and maybe that’s what made it perfect. Maybe Topper couldn’t read through your bullshit, or maybe he just didn’t feel the need to. Either way was fine with you, if you were going to survive this week. Kelce’s parents had offered up their rental property in the Hamptons to your friends, and after just narrowly convincing Gretchen’s dad to let her go this year, the friendship group had remained in tact, even welcoming one new member.

“Not my cup of tea,” you finally answer, settling into your seat, which was perfectly facing away from the rest of your friends. You pull your hoodie up over your head anyway, tucking your legs under you and opening the window shade.

“I’m probably going to be a boring seat buddy. I got zero sleep last night,” Topper tells you around a yawn. 

You can feel your eyes begging to flutter closed after the lack of sleep you got last night, when you were already toiling over the week that lie ahead. So you settle into your seat more, resting your head against the back of your seat. “Perfect.”

—

It made sense to cling to Topper a little bit after that.

At first, you merely opted to ride in the Uber he requested from the airport, ignoring Kelce’s second betrayed look of the morning when you didn’t pile in with him. But then you also sat next to him when you stopped at the seafood shack on the way home. 

You loved Topper for his obliviousness, but later that night, he still picked up on enough to move the decorative pillow hogging the spot next to him on the loveseat when everyone was gathering around for a movie night.

Topper was quiet, calm and safe—a breath of air among the suffocation you were feeling lately, and that’s all it was. 

And when he’d gone to the gym with Kelce in the morning, you figured you could find solace in a book out on the back porch instead. Rafe and Chloe were unaccounted for, their PDA and softened tones not to be missed by you any time soon, and Margot and Gretchen were still asleep when you left your shared room that morning. 

You obviously hadn’t gone as far as bunking with Topper for the week, but you pulled a pretty good “gosh, I’m so tired” act when you finally slipped into your bottom bunk below Gretchen, turning away from Margot across the room to face the wall. Prying eyes easily ignored.

You don’t possess an ordered list of who you’d most like to be opening the screen door only two chapters into your book that morning, but Chloe Merrick was decidedly not very high on it.

Before Rafe started bringing her around, you never knew enough about Chloe to make anything of her. She wasn’t in any of your classes, but Kildare Academy was small enough that you’d heard of her here and there. She ran in other circles from what you could tell, and she was always nice. You hadn’t heard it from Rafe’s mouth first, but Kelce’s. 

He’d lobbed it out into the open during a study session, and you’d brushed it off to move to the next question, not opting to face it until you had to at the next Boneyard party, when Rafe officially brought her into the group. You aren’t proud of the decisions that you made that night, between getting over-served on beer you didn’t even like and almost macking on a pogue who was cute enough before going home and making yourself very familiar with Chloe’s Vsco account. Pictures of Rafe in the sunset, holding ice cream cones, sitting in the cab of his truck—it’s a miracle your drunken thumb didn’t slip and blow your cover. 

“Hey Y/n. Mind if I join you?” she asks. You’d never say no, but the thumb holding your book open twitches when you hear the door shut again immediately. Followed by her footsteps—she didn’t wait for an answer. 

“Of course. Are you having fun so far?” you ask her, when she settles into the chair beside you.

“So much,” Chloe says. “Kelce’s place is sick. I feel silly that I was nervous when Rafe asked me here.”

“Nervous?” you ask. “Why?”

“I guess I just always thought you and Margot and Gretchen were so… cliquey?” she says without preamble. “I mean, me—I’ll make friends with anyone.”

“We’re not really a clique,” you say, laughing lightly to mask your discomfort. “We’re close, but there are no initiation ceremonies here.”

If she could tell you were joking, she doesn’t show that she picked up on it, shrugging instead. “I don’t know, you’ve always seemed so… reserved, the group of you. Especially you. I swear, I hardly ever see you without one of the crew inside.”

“They’re my best friends,” you say, matching her shrug. “I’ve known most of them since we were kids. It’s just always been like this.”

“I’ll take your word for it that there wasn’t a group vote on bringing me here,” she says, letting you off even if she doesn’t believe you. And you don’t think she does.

An incredibly awkward silence ensues after that, and you blurt the first thing that comes to mind to eliminate it. “How are things with Rafe?”

“Good,” she says, her eyes suddenly lighting up, your stomach twisting into the knot that had made its home there recently. “Really good. I like him a lot.”

“I can tell he likes you a lot, too. You guys are great together,” you tell her. “I’ve never seen him… well, he’s never really been very serious with anyone, I don’t think.” 

“Yeah, that’s what he said,” she says. “And I was surprised, honestly, I thought… well, can I be straight up with you?” 

“Yes?” you say, maybe against your better judgment. 

Chloe’s eyes shift away from you, and she shakes her head at the thought. “I kind of always thought you guys had a thing for each other. If not dating, at least hooking up. Like, I honestly thought Rafe was lying to me when he denied it.” 

You blink slowly, waiting for a punchline to hit, waiting for her to laugh in your face. To revel in the fact that she tricked you into ever thinking anyone would think you had a chance with Rafe. That he cared about you in that way at all, to the point where other people would pick up on it. But that never comes, and Chloe finally looks at you again, prompting you to speak. 

“U-us?“ you ask, picking at the spine of your book. “Rafe and me?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, no,” you counter, catching up to the purpose of this conversation, getting past the confusing mixture of guilt, surprise, and maybe even giddiness that someone could make that mistake. Someone who likes Rafe enough to pursue him could mistake your friendship for anything beyond that. “No, we’re just friends.”

“Well, yeah, but…” she trails off. “I don’t know. I sensed a vibe, like most people at school I think.”

“Most people?” you ask, feeling your eyes bug out of your head. 

“Yeah, when I told my friend Riley—you know her?”

“I… think so?” you say, hoping not to feed into the cliquey thing, but ultimately failing. Chloe seems unsurprised, but you can’t focus on that right now.

“I dunno, I had a crush on Rafe for a while but could never really get a read on it. She told me I was crazy, that you two have basically been dating since you could walk,” she explains. The tips of your ears start burning.

“We haven’t,” you clarify. “We really, really haven’t.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” she says, a touch dramatically, almost leading you to believe that this isn’t something she’d put to rest after talking with Rafe about it.

That thought—that realization that she’d talked with Rafe about it, about you—sends you into a  quick spiral. You imagine how he must have reacted—did he laugh? Would Rafe laugh about something like that? 

You realize you’ve let the silence drag again, and as you trip over your next question, you wish you would’ve never come to read out here this morning. 

“So did he—did Rafe… Rafe must have made the first move then, right?”

Chloe scoffs, smiling like you’re naive as she places her hands behind her head. “Why? Because he’s the guy?”

“No, no,” you say in a rush. “Of course not. You can totally make the first move. I just meant, if you thought we were together…”

“Oh. Yeah,” she says, now carrying your embarrassment. “Well, I guess it doesn’t matter now, since things changed and we’re official and whatever. At first, I kind of just wanted to hook up with him.”

“Ah,” you say quietly, your book twitching in your grasp, your thumbnail digging into the hard cover. 

“We were at a party. And I think you were gone, which is probably why I even got his attention in the first place. At least in my mind, at the time,” she explains, but you don’t believe it, not entirely. How Chloe could ever feel threatened by you is beyond you, so you assume it’s something else. “And I don’t know, I just decided ‘what the heck, he’s so cute. He can tell me to fuck off if he wants to.’”

You can’t imagine Rafe talking to her like that, or you like that. Or any girl like that. But you nod along, wondering how much more of this you even want to hear. 

“But he didn’t. And he didn’t even want to hook up,” she says, shifting herself to gain a sliver more of sun. “I mean, yeah, we kissed at that party. But considering everything… I don’t know, I was confused. Like why stop there?”

“Right,” you say, finally deciding to shoot it straight. “I’m not trying to judge, Chloe. But just to clarify, when did you find out we weren’t actually dating?”

“After macking, you know I kinda asked him… like, what’s going on here? Everyone who was there saw us. And your entire group was there besides you,” she reminds you. And then she laughs. “And he was so confused.”

You fake a chuckle, your worst fear all but confirmed, feeling white-hot shame creeping up your throat. “I bet.”

“He’s like ‘I’m not with her. I wouldn’t be kissing you if I was with her,’” she imitates, making Rafe seem stoic and serious, which wasn’t very familiar to you. “‘She’s just a buddy.’”

It stings but it isn’t as horrible as you’d thought it’d be—not that Chloe would be keen to offer up anything else of interest. But you’re itching to cut your losses, pretend this conversation never happened, because Rafe is just your friend.

“Well, he’s right,” you say, opening your book again, finding that your place on the page was lost.

“That’s when I knew I wanted more with him. I could tell from the way he talked about you that he was a good guy, and that he’d be really good to me,” Chloe says.

“Yeah, Rafe’s a great guy,” you agree, the loose wicker material on the couch beneath you suddenly of interest. 

“He is,” she agrees again. “It’s weird the way things worked out, but I’m happy. And sorry I thought you two were a thing all this time.”

“It happens,” you shrug, going back to pretending to read. “I think it’s just common when girls and guys are friends. People mistake Kelce and I, too. Even my mom asked me if I had a thing with Topper.” 

You were joking, attempting to steer the conversation away from dangerous territory, but when her eyes light up you know you’re anything but home free.

“That’d be sweet,” she says, and you’re surprised by the earnestness in her voice. “You and Thornton. I’ve seen y’all attached at the hip lately.”

“Oh, no… I don’t think so,” you say, embarrassed. “Top’s just a friend, too. Our parents go way back.”

You return to your book again, still feeling thrown off by the entire conversation, especially Chloe’s admission, your mind in overdrive trying to fill in the missing pieces of that conversation she must have had with Rafe—conversations, plural? How many times had they even talked about you? The thought alone makes you want to book a flight home tonight, and hide from Rafe until you could leave for the airport.

“If not Topper, then who?” 

Your thoughts momentarily clear again, and you look back at Chloe. “What do you mean?”

“Rafe’s mine,” she reminds you, like it’s something you’d ever forget. “Kelce has that waitress at the Island Club.”

“Sidney,” you say.

“Sidney, right,” she nods. “But is there anyone for you?”

“There you are.” 

Rafe appears on the deck just then, suited up in what looks like hiking gear. You never let your eyes linger long, but you especially don’t in the presence of his girlfriend, even if you’re rather interested in the way his sky blue shirt probably accentuates his eyes. 

“You ready, Chlo?”

“Hey, almost,” she answers, standing up.

“Oh, hey, Y/n/n,” Rafe says, like he’s noticing you for the first time. “You wanna come hike with us?”

“No,” you say easily. “I’ve got my book.”

“We’re talking about who we’re gonna set Y/n up with,” Chloe says, and her arms snake around Rafe’s waist. He places a hand on her back, but he looks over at you with mirth in his eyes. 

“Oh yeah? Who?”

Chloe smiles at you. “Well, I suggested Topper.”

You cringe when Rafe laughs. “Yeah, okay.”

“Why not?” Chloe says, pouting at him. You turn away, but you can still hear the smack of their lips.

“She’s too smart for him. She’s too smart for all the guys at our school,” he says.

“And I’m not?” Chloe says, and her tone gives you goosebumps.

You stand abruptly, gathering your book and the towel you’d come out here with. 

“Have fun on your hike,” you say. “I’m gonna go read down on the sand.”

“See you when we get back,” Rafe says. “You’re playing poker tomorrow night, right?”

“Maybe,” you shrug. 

“Oh, c’mon,” Rafe goads. 

“She probably just wants to read her book,” Chloe says. 

You say nothing to that, waving them off as you turn and make your way down the path to the beach to do exactly that. 

—

The truth is, you do end up spending much of that weekend with your nose buried in books, thankful you’d had the foresight to pack extra on top of the one you’d been in the middle of when you left. And the time you don’t spend reading, avoiding rooms that both Chloe and Rafe are in, or sometimes even just one of them at a time, you spend with Topper.

“What are you gonna get?”

“You know, I’m not really that into coffee, Y/n/n,” he tells you regretfully, wincing when you give him a shocked expression.

“What? Why did you let me drag you here?” you ask, your hands fluttering around you, motioning to the coffee shop you’d found yourselves in. The coffee shop, newly opened not even a mile down the road from Kelce’s parent’s house, had been under construction last spring break. You’d driven by it every time you all went in and out of town, bummed you’d just barely miss the grand opening over that summer, but all the more excited to come back and try it next year. Rafe had been excited too, when he promised the two of you could hit it up first thing this year. But things had changed since then, and it was hard not to notice the plastic cup dangling from Chloe’s hand when she and Rafe got back from their hike.

“You didn’t drag me here,” Topper rolls his eyes, motioning for you to move forward in line. “It’s nice out. We’ll probably be stuck inside the rest of the trip when that storm rolls in, and I already feel all cooped up in the house.” 

“Tell me about it,” you sigh, your eyes scouring the menu for anything without coffee or espresso for him. “You could get a matcha?”

Topper grimaces. “Get your coffee. Don’t feel bad. We can hit that ice cream shop down the street after this if you’re not in a rush to get back to the house.”

“Fine with me. Do you know what we’re doing today?”

“Kelce is probably gonna FaceTime Sidney. Margot and Gretch are probably…” he trails off, checking his watch “…at Soul Cycle right now, and are gonna come home and nap until it’s dark. Who knows with Rafe and Chloe. I think we’re on our own until poker.”

“Mm,” you hum noncommittally. “You gonna play?”

“I’m stealing everyone’s fuckin’ money,” Topper claims. “You?”

“I don’t really know how,” you shrug.

“There’s not much to it. Once you learn the rules, you just can’t let anyone know your hand,” he explains. “You’ll have fun. And I’m sure Rafe’ll give you a crash course.”

Your smile dims, and you’re lucky that it’s your turn to order your drink. Topper waits with you, holding the door to the shop open while you take your first sip. 

“Is it everything you ever dreamed?”

“S’okay,” you shrug, swilling the milky drink around, falling into step beside him on the crowded sidewalk. 

You don’t mean to spend the entire day out of the house—honestly. But it’s easy to after you get Topper his ice cream, you take it down to the beach together, talking about your families, college, and Topper’s last surf competition and betting on when Kelce is going to give this Sidney thing an actual try. You tease Topper about Emily but he just pushes you over on the beach towel you’re sharing, and you return the favor when he commends you for your away game at the Boneyard. 

And it gets even easier when Topper convinces you to finally test your newly minted fake ID at some beach club that’s just down the shore, promising to buy the first round (of whatever “frilly rosé” you want) if you’ll just stand up straight and try your luck with the bouncer. 

“Be fucking cool, Y/n/n—act like you’ve done this before,” he laughs, ushering you toward the outdoor bar to deliver on his promise. 

You make sure to return the favor by batting your eyelashes at a group of college boys that feel inclined to buy you a drink. They must not be able to tell you aren’t old enough to have a true drink order yet, or maybe they just don’t care when they start talking about inviting you out to to their boat. That’s when you decide to give Topper the signal, where he’d already been watching you from across the beach anyway. He quickly peels you away, finding two straws for whatever god awful concoction thee boys had ended up ordered you at the bar.

And after Topper picks up the tab for a couple more rounds of frilly rosé—which might have turned into full bottles at some point—because, go figure, he starts to get nervous about one of the bottle girls eyeing you both suspiciously, a sunset swim in the ocean before the storm settles in somehow seems like the best idea you’ve had in your drunken lives. 

The French fries and onion rings you share on your walk home are an even better one though, all the way up until the sky cracks open in the down pour you’d been outrunning all day when you’re hardly a block away from the house.

After the lack of worrying you’ve done all day, you don’t think twice about drunkenly stumbling into the house with your friend. It can’t be any bigger of a deal than whatever flack you’ll get from Margot and Gretchen over it later, but you realize your tipsy giggles and wet feet slipping against the floor is so incredibly loud because the house is silent, the rest of your friends looking at you from the dining table with a variety of looks on their faces.

“Oh. Hey guys. Poker time?” Topper asks, still mowing through the rest of the food you’d picked up, the way the paper bag had gone soggy doing nothing to deter him. 

“Try an hour ago,” Kelce says, eyes flicking between the two of you. “You’re dripping all over my mom’s floor."

“Is it that late?” you wonder, leaning back to peer at Topper’s phone when he takes it out of his pocket, thankful for his hand on your back when you stumble. 

“We tried texting you, Y/n/n,” Margot says, her eyes cutting to Gretchen, who nods, a nervous smile on her face. 

“Sorry,” you say sincerely, but a hiccup gets you toward the end, and you hear Topper chuckle behind you.

“Are you guys… drunk?” Rafe asks, his tone of voice not exactly accusatory, but definitely confused. And the way he’s asking isn’t funny, because if you had a clear head you might think he’s genuinely concerned. The way Chloe’s sitting in a separate chair and still somehow practically in his lap, looking like a dog with a bone not because of that, but because of the way you and Topper are touching, is also nowhere near humorous. 

But Topper’s suddenly got the giggles, and maybe it’s how uncomfortable this entire situation is that makes them so contagious, but you can’t control your own when he finally answers, “why would you think that?” 

“Jesus Christ,” Margot mutters at the two of you, placing her cards on the table to rub at her temples. 

“Are we dealing you in or not?” Kelce says, and you can’t believe your ears when you detect disappointment. 

“Next round?” you try, already heading for the stairs, unsure of who’s eyes you even want to avoid anymore, but deciding it’s probably safest to choose all of them. “I really need to shower.”

“Same,” Topper says, already following you up. 

“Kelce,” Chloe stage whispers. “Don’t interrupt them.” 

Rafe doesn’t stage whisper, because you catch what he says even when you and Topper go your separate ways at the top of the staircase. “He’s not interrupting anything, Chlo.”

—

You don’t know if Topper rallied to join the poker game last night, because the rosé and the sun and the swimming and the running had really caught up to you in the shower, and it was all you could do to brush your teeth before climbing into bed before even drying your hair. 

Getting to bed earlier than everyone, you thought you’d enjoy the downstairs of the house to yourself the next morning, the sound of the rain against the large window panes actually soothing to your impending headache—but you have no such luck.

Rafe is already at the coffee pot, back turned, sans any semblance of a shirt, and you stop so suddenly that your foot catches on the floor loudly, accidentally alerting him to your presence. 

He twists around, assessing your pillow messy hair while rocking his own, awarding you just the tiniest smile. “She lives.” 

“Can you brew a pot?” you say in greeting, already foraging for a mug and the creamer, peeling your eyes away from golden skin.

“I got you,” he says, adding more grounds. Your head aches with every jilted step you take, and you're suddenly reminded why you should always abide by ‘wine before liquor, never been sicker.’

You’re at a loss, surveying the kitchen for some sort of medicine stash when Rafe opens a drawer, tossing you a bottle of Advil.

“Thanks,” you mumble, taking it with you when you slump into a seat at the breakfast bar, pressing your head into the cool tile of the kitchen counter. The only sound in the kitchen after that is the drip of the coffee into the pot, and you suddenly realize this is the first time you’ve been alone with Rafe this entire trip. 

“Here.”

Rafe sets a glass of water in front of you, and then to your absolute horror, leans over the counter in front of you, muscles in his arms straining. You toss back a few tablets and a gulp of water so huge your eyes sting, setting it back down before another wave of nausea hits you.

“Thanks,” you repeat. 

“This place is nuts,” Rafe says. “Can’t even imagine it in the summer.”

“Probably looks a lot like Kildare,” you mumble. “But bougier.”

“True enough. You good?” he asks, not looking appeased when you nod. “What’d you and Top get up to anyway?”

“Coffee at that place. Top wanted ice cream. Went to this beach club,” you mutter, hiding your face in your hands, stomach turning at the thought of alcohol. “He peer pressured me into that one.”

“I’m sure he did.”

“He can be very convincing. I can see why he’s thinking of law school,” you sigh, rubbing at your eyes as you recall the rest of the day. “Then, um—oh yeah, went swimming. Got dinner.” 

“Where?” Rafe asks, and you shrug, wondering when you’ll be able to take this coffee up to your room and crawl back into bed with it.

“It gets patchy after that.” 

“Right,” Rafe sighs, and you hear him shifting around, fidgeting against the counter so aggressively that you can feel it. “He should know better.” 

Your hands fall from your face, your elbows holding you up as you scrutinize him. “What?”

Rafe shrugs, head dipping. “You guys were out alone, not picking up your phones while he’s getting you drunk—probably around a bunch of dickhead frat boys at whatever stupid beach club. There was a storm coming in off the coast, we had no idea where you were and you’re drunk and swimming in the ocean. He know should better. You should, too.”

Your eyes narrow. “I told Gretchen and Margot when I left, and they have my location. Also, I know how to swim.” 

He turns to face you. “I’m just saying—”

“No,” you say, surprising yourself when you don’t let him talk. “Top’s one of my best friends, yours, too. We wanted to get out of the house and got caught up, but we were fine. We were at a bar, not jumping off of the lighthouse or at some random house party.”

Rafe smiles like you’re being ridiculous, a look you aren’t used to receiving unless it’s in jest, and it makes you feel so much smaller than you’ve already felt all week. “Just looking out, Y/n/n. People were worried.”

“People?” you ask incredulously, pushing your palms into the counter to stand-up. “Like who?”

You tear your eyes away from where Rafe has fish-mouthed, sensing someone else’s presence in the kitchen. 

“Hey, you,” Chloe singsongs, strolling into the kitchen in a shirt you recognize.

The pressure behind your eyes is building, the voice in your head screaming at you to get out of here now, coffee already forgotten. 

“Have fun with Topper?” she asks.

“Chloe,” Rafe says pointedly.

“Tons,” you answer, not waiting for either of them to respond before booking it out of there.

—

The storm in Montauk that week was nothing a couple of Outer Banks kids weren’t used to, but the same couldn’t be said for the power lines on the street where Kelce’s parents’ house sat. 

You’re reading, holed up in your room when the power flickers off, all of the appliances that had been humming suddenly silent, making the sound of the rain even clearer. 

“Shit,” you mutter to yourself, realizing you probably can’t hide out anymore.

You turn your phone flashlight on and make your way downstairs, where you’d left everyone after dinner. Things had loosened up in the group as the day wore one, but you hadn’t said a word to Rafe, and the eyes his girlfriend kept giving you and Topper were only making matters worse. 

There’s already a couple of candles lit when you make your way downstairs, shining your phone flashlight on the path in front of you so you don’t trip. 

“Can I help with anything?” you ask Kelce, who’s sitting at the kitchen table on his phone.

“My dad says there’s more flashlights in the closet by the laundry room, could you grab a few?” he asks.

“On it,” you say, putting aside whatever silent battle the two of you had been fighting since you got on the plane to come here.

Kelce’s face looks grateful, illuminated by the candles Gretchen was setting up all over the lower level. “Thanks, Y/n/n.”

It doesn’t take you long to find the closet, right by the laundry room as Kelce had said. You swing the door open to begin investigating, sighing heavily when you see a row of flashlights on the top shelf. “Mother—”

“Fuck.”

The door nearly smacks you in the face, a force pushing it back toward you suddenly where you stand in front of the closet. “What the fuck?”

“Ow,” Rafe groans. “There was a door there.”

“Oh shit, Rafe,” you whisper. “Are you okay?” 

You try to find your phone where you’d left it on one of the shelves so you can shine the light, but he grabs your arm suddenly, trying to get his bearings.

“Shit, sorry—it’s dark as fuck in here,” he says, still sounding like he’s in pain. “Kelce sent me over here to get flashlights.”

“They’re here,” you say. “In the closet.”

“Right. The closet with the door I just introduced myself to.”

“You’re sure you’re okay?” you ask. You couldn’t even tell how close Rafe is to you right now, that’s how dark it is, but his grip on your arm and the way you’re sure you can feel his body heat is enough to have you forgetting all about the conversation you’d had earlier, until he brings it up.

“Are you okay?”

“I didn’t just smack my head on a door,” you laugh lightly, using the arm he’s holding to guide him out of the way, the two of you standing in the laundry room.

“I know—fuck. I’m gonna have a mark,” he says. His touch leaves your arm suddenly, and then you see the flick of a lighter meeting the wick of a small votive candle, which he sets on the washer. 

The two of you are modestly illuminated then, and you see no mark, but you do see the regretful look he’s sporting. 

“I’m sorry. About this morning.” 

“Oh, it was no big deal,” you shrug.

“No, it wasn’t, and I shouldn’t have acted like it was.”

“S’fine,” you say. “I’ve been in a bad mood. Probably shouldn’t have even come out here this week.”

“No, what? Don’t say that—everyone wants you here.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Bad mood or not, Y/n/n—this trip wouldn’t have been the same without you. Top would be lost at sea, most likely.” 

You can’t help but laugh at that, even if Topper is the strongest ocean swimmer out of all of you. Rafe would have him beat in a pool, and he loves to remind everyone of that. 

“I was being… dumb, I don’t know—it’s…” Rafe sighs, his eyes focused on the candle flame flickering between you as he pauses. “Chloe really seems to think you and him have a thing for each other.”

“I told her we don’t,” you groan, ready to try your luck at getting those flashlights on your own, or even returning to Kelce empty handed. 

“I did too,” Rafe assures you. “But last night, I don’t know. I can tell her to cool it, if you want me to.”

You don’t know what possesses you to lean forward, your hand pushing up the hair that had fallen over Rafe’s forehead to investigate the mark forming. You underestimate how close your bodies are in the dim lighting, your midsection brushing against his.

“Am I bleeding?” he asks, his voice hushed.

“No,” you say, retracting your touch, backing into the washer, mindful of not knocking over the candle and sending the house up in flames. “Um, top shelf. Can you reach them?”

“Can I reach them?” Rafe says haughtily, passing them to you as he swipes them off of the top shelf with ease. You hope it’s bright enough in there for him to see you roll your eyes. 

“Come on,” you say, clicking one of the flashlights on.

“Wait, Y/n/n,” he says, his touch soft on your elbow when he tugs you back toward him. 

“What?” you ask, turning to face him again, the way the candle flame lights up his face no less endearing.

“We’re okay, right?” he asks, his tone almost pleading. 

He sounds so earnest, you want to drop the flashlights you’re holding and throw your arms around him, assure him that you’re always okay, always, and that you could never be angry with him for anything. You don’t though, because you almost forgot he has a girlfriend just around a corner somewhere, and you sincerely Rafe Cameron never discovers he can have you just about anyway he wants.

“Yeah,” you say, turning to keep walking back toward the living room. “We’re okay.”

—

Present day

Your parents didn’t open their home to the Outer Banks’ bustling social order often, but your mother really went all out when they did. That might be why you grew up accustomed to peers awkwardly asking you if your mom had mentioned anything about a guest list to you—like she ever would—sent to you to do their parents’ bidding around the holidays. 

Tonight was such an occasion, where you’re expected to have every hair in place, exacerbating the missing suitcase issue. 

Rafe is already splayed across your bed in his shirt and slacks, cuddled into your old throw pillows like he never left, nursing a glass of some sort of dark liquor your dad had dragged him into the study for on his way up here. “There has to be something in here you can wear.” 

“Right now,” you observe, angrily sifting through your closet in just your undergarments. “We’re down to my old school uniform or my prom dress.”

“They’re basically tied in my head,” Rafe calls.

“Neither of them fit.” 

“Even better,” he goads. 

You roll your eyes, wanting to be annoyed but failing to fully get there. You’d been distracted all day, ever since your run-in at the grocery store. Finding something wearable from the remains of your adolescent wardrobe ought to be the best distraction, but it’s nothing compared to the one taking up your bed.

The distraction walks into your closet then, setting his drink on one of the built-in shelves and taking your hips into his hands, tucking himself in firmly behind you. “Come on. There’s gotta be something.”

The door bell goes off again in the distance, and you huff in frustration. “I can’t believe she kept my deb dress.”

“She did?” he asks, reaching around you to hold the tulle in his hands. “She did. Wear this one. I was your date in this one.”

“I was also eight years younger,” you quip, unceremoniously flicking past it. “And I’m not wearing my deb dress to a cocktail party.”

“What gives, Y/l/n?” 

You whirl on Rafe, who sips lackadaisically at his drink, eyebrows raised. “What?”

“You’re being weird. You have a hundred dresses in here,” he says, shrugging. “And you don’t care what anyone downstairs thinks.”

“My mom does,” you remind him, a feeble attempt at an excuse.

“Hey,” he says softly, finger bumping your chin upward. “What is it? Really.” 

“Ugh,” you groan, pushing him aside so you can cross your closet, finding a dress that might be an actual contender. “It’s so fucking stupid, Rafe.”

“What is?” he says, slightly amused as you take it off the hanger. 

“I ran into Chloe at the store,” you say, not checking for his reaction in the full-length mirror as you slip your dress on. It wouldn’t be the most flattering fit, once you zip it up.

“Today?” Rafe asks, and you hear him set his drink down again.

“Yes, today,” you answer, turning to check your figure from the side, then dropping the dress in a huff, stepping out of it and kicking it to the side.

“Okay,” your boyfriend says, seemingly unperturbed. “How did that go?” 

“Nothing, it was nothing. It was fine,” you say, attempting flippancy as you move past him. But he grabs your elbow, pulling you to a stop. He’s a vision in his simple but handsome get-up, and you realize it’s been a while since you’ve seen him all dressed up. Lucky you, you think, scanning him from the ground up. 

“Y/n. It doesn’t sound like nothing, or that it was fine,” he says. “Why didn’t you mention it?”

“It’s not like it’s a big deal,” you say, twisting your fingers around each other. “You guys—well, it was forever ago, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” he says. “Quite a forever ago. A couple. I feel like we’ve lived a couple since then.”

Much like this conversation, there’s a dress hanging in the corner that you’d been tip-toeing around all night. You know it’d be perfect—maybe a little snug but just in all of the right places. You had it stashed here in case something like this were to ever happen. You overthought everything, and it was finally coming in handy. 

You smile up at him briefly before you move past him to take it off the hanger. It slips right over your shoulders and falls exactly how you knew it would. 

“I just got in my head about it,” you say, shifting your hair to one side once you’re standing in front of the mirror once again. Rafe takes the hint, working at the zipper dexterously. “She was always kind of a bitch, wasn’t she?”

“Babe,” Rafe laughs, shocked. You turn to look at him.

“What?”

“Nothing. You’ve just never spoken ill of her before,” he says, pushing your hair behind your shoulders. “It’s kind of refreshing.”

“Why?”

A blush dusts the high points of his cheeks, and he’s swirling his glass again before taking a long pull. “I mean, I nearly laid your ex out at family dinner.”

You bite your bottom lip, recalling that moment in the wine cellar as clearly as if it happened yesterday. You hadn’t seen or heard from Theo since then.

“We don’t have talk about it,” Rafe quickly adds.

You nod gratefully, letting the moment pass without an answer.

“But forgive me if it’s nice to see a little jealousy from you every once in a while,” he says, pressing a kiss to your head.

“Jealousy?” you say, your eyebrows furrowing. “I… that’s not…”

Rafe looks at you expectantly, smile slowly growing as you fail to vocalize what you’d actually been getting at. That seeing her again had stirred up a deep hurt in you, a hurt he was responsible for whether he knew it or not. And that no matter how much you had healed from it—or how deep you’d buried it—all it took was one run-in with her to bring it all back, memories of Kelce’s Hamptons house occupying your mind all afternoon.

“Sweetheart, it’s alright,” Rafe assures you, eyes searching your face. “I know you love it when I’m jealous, but I kinda just want to keep you up here all night.” 

A knock sounds at your bedroom door, muted from where you two stand in the closet still.

“Come on,” comes Dylan’s voice. “Mom told me to drag you out of here, and I’d rather die.”

You huff, turning off your closet light and waiting for Rafe to follow. Your jewelry is already on—you’d kept it simple with your R necklace and a tennis bracelet from your college graduation. Your shoe selection had also been bleak, and you reluctantly slip into some old wedges. It was hardly attire you’d usually wear to one of your mom’s soirées, but it would have to do for both of you.

“You look beautiful.” 

Your shoulders drop slightly, and you don’t fight your smile. “Thanks, baby.”

Rafe waves a hand as if to tell you not to even mention it as he guides you through your bedroom door. Thankfully, Dylan is nowhere to be found.

“And I’m just saying, I’m so not opposed to seeing the Academy skirt later.”

“You perv. It was standard issue.”

“You rolled it up. I know you did.”

“Everyone did,” you tell him, making your way down the stairs with your boyfriend on your heels. 

“I wasn’t looking at everyone.”

“You make me sick,” you jab, elbowing him softly in the ribs even as you feel your cheeks fill with warmth. 

“You make me sick. Lovesick.” 

“Rafe.”

Rafe’s smile drops at the sound of your father’s voice, his hand moving from where it had slipped dangerously low on your back up to the middle, before falling away entirely. “Hi Mr. Y/l/n.”

“Would you help my wife with the trash in the kitchen?” 

You jump in immediately, hand finding Rafe’s arm. “Rafe’s a guest. Can you ask Dylan to do it?”

“I’ve got it, sweetheart,” he murmurs, before leaving your side at the bottom of the stairs. 

“Thanks, son,” your dad says, patting him on the back as he goes. Rafe turns back to you briefly, a prideful look on his face, eyebrows raised in a way that makes your heart speed up faster. 

—

I’m so cold

my mom should’ve put extra blankets out?

She did. Still

suck it up buttercup

Pretty sure Cap misses you too. Whining at the door

noooooo my baby :(

What about me?

Your simple reply is a shrugging emoji, and Rafe smiles as he tosses his phone to the side on the bed. It really is cold in here, but Rafe might have exaggerated it a little. He could definitely throw some sweat pants on, but he’d rather complain until you ask him to come up. That way there’s no guilt on his part if he gets caught. 

But you don’t appear immediately interested in that, so Rafe does opt for pulling a pair of pants on. Which was a big mistake, because his dog immediately stands where he actually had been whining at the door, ever since Captain realized he wouldn’t be going back to the main house with you. 

“I know, bud,” Rafe sighs, leaning down to scratch behind his ear. “I miss her, too.”

Captain whimpers, louder this time, and Rafe realizes he won’t get much sleep tonight if he keeps him out here. It’s late enough, right? Your parents must be asleep after that party, and it’s not like Dylan would rat him out. He takes one last look at his cold bed, then looks back at his dog, who’s still swishing his tail in anticipation. 

“Alright. Let’s go.”

The pair walk through the dewy grass and back to the main house, and the back door that sits just below your room is miraculously unlocked. And it’s easy enough to keep Captain quiet, even though his excitement builds the more he’s able to realize what’s going on, far and away the noisiest thing in an otherwise dark and quiet house. 

“You’re gonna blow our cover dude,” he whispers, closing the back door as softly as possible. He can see through the house to the base of the stairs, they’re almost home free. He can figure out his escape plan in the morning if needed. 

“Rafe, how nice of you to drop in.”

Rafe cringes inwardly, feeling his shoulders drop a couple of inches as he turns toward the study, where your father leans in the doorway. “Hey, Mr. Y/l/n.” 

“A little late though, isn’t it?” Will teases, checking his wrist watch. 

“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry, I just wanted to let Captain up. He’s been whining,” Rafe says, willing the blush to fade on his cheeks, and hopeful the late night light won’t catch it anyway. 

“Right,” your father says, nodding his head with a slight air of condescension, eyes narrowed. “I’ll give you five minutes.”

“That’s perfect,” Rafe lies, deflating further. “I’ll be back in no time.”

“I know,” your dad says, turning to head back into his office. 

Rafe feels himself going out on a limb before his brain can even process if that’s the best idea. But he’s cold, and he feels a little weird about things with you, and if he were a dog he’d probably be whining ten times as loud as Captain was. “Mr. Y/l/n, with all due respect—”

“This better be good.”

“We live together. We have for over a year now,” Rafe points out.

“I know.”

“And I mean,” Rafe ventures, slightly embarrassed but still willing to go the lengths. “It wouldn’t be my first time spending the night in her room.”

“As far as my wife is concerned, it would,” your dad says, raising his eyebrows significantly. 

“Okay, but—”

“Five minutes,” Will says, with finality. 

“Yes, sir,” Rafe says. 

He leads Captain up the stairs—well, Captain leads him, really, right to your door. He knocks softly, hoping you hadn’t fallen asleep in the last ten minutes. 

“Jail break,” you gasp, once Rafe pushes the door open. You smile when Captain runs to greet you, who collects the attention he desired before finding the bed in the corner of the room, curling around Wilbur. 

“Unbelievable,” Rafe says, walking toward the bed. He leans over you, not letting himself get in because he knows he won’t be able to get out. “Hi."

Your giggle settles something that had been anxious in his stomach all evening, sending you looks across the room when you were out of his reach, talking to your dad or any one of your mom’s friends. Your arms lock around his neck for a quick second, and he tucks his face into your neck. 

“Hi. Thought I heard the back door.”

“The warden downstairs gave me five minutes,” Rafe says, unable to keep himself from smiling when you laugh too. 

“How generous of him,” you say, shuffling to the side the make room. But Rafe doesn’t let you, because that’s dangerous territory. 

“No, I can’t. You’re too warm and you smell too good and I’ll never make it back downstairs in time,” he explains, burrowing his face back into your neck. He feels goosebumps form, and he fails at his only goal of not getting lost in you, pressing his lips into a spot that’s been known to drive you wild.

“Rafe,” you warn, your voice already gone slightly breathy. 

He pauses after a minute, planting one last kiss. “Question for you.”

“Mm.”

“What’s the waiting period here?” he says, propping himself up over you again. You blink slowly, and he loves witnessing the daze he put you in start to evaporate. “Like, if I proposed to you right now, would I be allowed to sleep over tonight?”

You narrow your eyes, and the moment is over, Rafe chuckling as you push him off forcefully. “I hate you.”

“No you don’t,” he says. “Not even a little.”

“I hope you freeze to death in the guest house,” you tell him, already rolling over onto your side to face away from him, the little huffs only endearing him more. “Please unplug my lights on your way out.” 

“Don’t even joke about that,” he says, leaning over you again. “That’s a real possibility.” 

“There should be a space heater in one of the closets. Or maybe you can call Chloe. I’m sure she’d love to warm you right up,” you quip. Rafe falters for a moment, until he leans over just enough and sees your wry grin.

“I have to go before your dad calls Shoupe back over to arrest me, but we’ll unpack that tomorrow morning. Bagels?” 

“Nothing to unpack,” you say. “But yes to bagels. Good night.” 

He heads back down, after unplugging your lights as he was asked to do. You flip him off when he says good night at the doorway, but still answer his ‘love you.’ 

Rafe already detests the cold that awaits him back at the guest house, can almost feel it settling into his bones again. Maybe he should’ve toughed it out with Captain in the end, because he could’ve produced some extra body heat and Rafe wouldn’t have had a chance to remind himself what he was missing in the main house.

He makes no attempt to tip-toe past Will’s office, wanting his loud footsteps to echo just so your father knows he kept his promise.

“Rafe, a word?” Will calls. 

Fuck. Rafe checks his watch, wondering if it had been longer than he thought. He pops his head inside. “Sorry. On my way out now.”

“No, I don’t care about that,” he says, waving a hand. He gestures to one of the chairs in front of him. “Have a seat.”

“Yes, sir,” Rafe agrees, dropping into the seat closest to the door. He sits quietly while Will continues working on his computer, a deep furrow in his brow.

“How was the birthday trip? To uh…” Will asks, doing the snapping thing he always does when he’s thinking out loud. “Aspen? No, that’s not right.” 

“Telluride,” Rafe corrects, nodding at Will’s ‘ah.’ “It was amazing. Y/n flew my sisters out and everything. They can’t ski to save their lives, and I’m hardly better, but we all had a great time. Y/n was very patient with them.”

Your dad smiles, and Rafe lets the silence hang there until it’s clear enough that he’s waiting to find out what this is about. 

“I know it’s late. I find it so hard to corner you when you’re over here. She hardly lets you out of her sight,” Will says after a while, leaning back in his chair, hands clasped over his middle. 

Rafe feels his spine straighten immediately, but he tries to disguise at his readjusting his position in the cushioned chair as he fumbles for a response. “Yeah, Y/n… um. You know.” 

“Mm,” Will hums noncommittally. 

“Why would you need to corner me?” 

Your dad smiles; he loves to freak Rafe out and he always succeeds. Rafe wishes he wouldn’t make it so easy for him, but he never wants to be caught out of step. “How’s the new job?” 

Rafe clears his throat before he chokes on his own spit. “Did… Y/n mention something?”

“Well, obviously that’d be between my daughter and me.”

“Right, of course,” Rafe says, feeling his right leg start to jump up and down softly. That was by far your least favorite habit of his, and he wishes you weren’t upstairs right now so you could tell him to cut it out.

“But she said you were thinking about getting out of development,” your dad clarifies. “Are you?”

“More like thinking about thinking about it,” he says, laughing awkwardly. “Um, no, yeah. Things are fine at the new place; it’s a lot of what I’m used to. Just a different market, completely different. So it’s a change of pace, and it’s good.”

“Is it fine or is it good?” Will asks, tilting his head in consideration. Rafe hasn’t had a proper job interview since his college internships, but this is beginning to remind him of that in an eerie way. 

“It’s good, for now,” he says, daring to be honest. Although he almost feels hurt that your dad even knows any of this. Rafe had merely been spitballing—merely—when he’d mentioned this to you in the past. Development was what he was good at it, it was what he knew. It was all he ever knew, but he didn’t love it. Rafe had been suspicious of that to some extent for a while, and he figured it might go away once he moved companies. But even without his dad breathing down his neck, his heart wasn’t in it. Not like yours was when it came to publishing, not like Topper’s when it came to medicine. Kelce pulled 60 hour weeks often, and Graham was entry-level at some newspaper that underpaid him criminally, to the point he walked dogs on the weekend. And you were all happier than Rafe was. 

He knew it was temporary for him, but he hadn’t made any concrete plans of when or how to get out, and where he was going to go from there. And that apparently hadn’t stopped you from divulging all of this to maybe the second person he’d rather you not, after his own father. 

“But not forever,” Will finishes for him. “So what’s next?” 

“I don’t know how much she told you…” Rafe tries. Will doesn’t budge. “But I guess she had some friends over, and she—well, I make furniture, you know? Uh, woodturning was just a hobby I had in college at first.”

“Right, I knew that.”

Rafe nods, because it shouldn’t surprise him but it still kind of does—he doesn’t even know if his own dad knows that, but he can make an educated guess.

“And then I started doing it for Y/n/n. With our porch swing we left at the old house, and then our bed frame, her bookshelf, I made both of us desks, plus a couple of side tables—”

“I get it, Rafe.” 

“Sorry, yeah,” Rafe says, message received. “But anyway, a couple of her friends were over once, and some of them asked about a few pieces.”

“To buy?” Will asks.

“Yeah, to buy,” Rafe says proudly. “And they’re friends of hers, so I’d have done it free after materials. But they all insisted. So I had to work out some pricing scales and all of that pretty quickly.” 

Will nods, and the unease at being thrown into this conversation before he’d even realized he’d have to have it one day—because of course your father is going to wonder about Rafe’s career and finances—is slightly eased by the thought he might be impressing him. 

“Good money?”

“Listen,” Rafe sighs. “I don’t want to give you the wrong idea about anything, because I don’t know the first thing about freelancing or maybe owning a business? It’s not anywhere near that yet.”

“You could figure all of that out, and I could help you,” Will says, clasping his hands together. “But would it be something you want?” 

“I’m realistic, sir. It’s not something I’d consider as anything other than a side gig,” Rafe says carefully.

“Okay,” your dad says, nodding in consideration. He leans over his desk, elbows pressing into the wood. “So that leaves your actual career… where?”  

“Well—you know, uh. I’m fine working where I am,” Rafe says, before being prompted to add more by Will’s expectant stare. “But not forever. I think the goal is to move more into the contracting side one day.”

“Hm,” your father says. “Get out from behind the desk.”

“Exactly,” Rafe breathes, relieved he seems to be understanding him now. “Maybe do things on my own, or with a couple of partners. I used to work with my hands a lot in the summers, travel to sites all the time. I don't know... I miss that.”

“I see.”

Will doesn’t give him much more than that, which leaves Rafe to fill the pause with his nerve-y internal monologue. “Mr. Y/l/n, I hope it doesn’t come as a surprise to you that I intend to be in your daughter’s life forever. And if you’re worried that one day I won’t be able to take care of her—”

“I’m not worried about that,” Will says, waving the thought away. “I won’t pretend to know the financial situation your parents have left you in, nor do I want you to feel like you should tell me. But I know hers, and she’ll never have to depend on a boyfriend for anything. Ever. That was intentional.” 

Rafe nods, because he know Sarah and Wheezie will probably receive the same treatment when that day comes. He never expected it for himself, but especially not now. 

“And to be honest, Rafe, we’re only having this conversation because I believe you when you say that’s your intention. To be in her life,” Will continues. “But you aren’t exactly… on the same playing field as her, are you?” 

“Not to my knowledge,” Rafe says quietly, looking down at his hands, fidgeting with the newly empty spot on his finger. 

“Which is perfectly alright,” your father rushes to say. “Don’t get me wrong. But that’s why I like to know these things. it’s important to me that she isn’t in a situation where she could be taken advantage of.”

Rafe looks up at that. “You have to know I’d never do that to her.” 

“But I want her to be with someone who will hold their own,” Will clarifies. “It’s only fair.”

“All of this would be settled before I made anything official,” Rafe says. Truthfully, he’d never thought this far into it, in his own head or even talking it out with you. But it’s a no-brainer that Rafe would want to feel stable before you officially joined your lives together, and especially before you brought children into it. “She doesn’t need to count on me, but I want her to be able to."

“I’m just being a father, Rafe,” Will reminds him. “If you have a daughter, or any kids one day, I hope you’ll see where I’m coming from.”

“I’m sure I will.”

Will flicks a hand toward the door, which Rafe takes as his cue to leave, the adrenaline draining from his body in a seconds. “Do what you need to do.”

Rafe shakes his hand before he leaves, stopping by to look at the landing that would take him back up the stairs to your room, wondering if he should risk the wrath of your mother so he can ask you what the hell that was about.

—

The grass crunches softly underneath your boots the next morning, and you feel a twinge of sympathy for Rafe, wondering if he hadn’t been exaggerating about the temperature out in the guest house after all. You know it can be drafty out there, but Rafe ran warm. Even still, you dig your hands even further into the pockets of the vest Rafe had loaned you as you make your way to the guest house, dogs left in the main house while the two of you just went into town to grab breakfast for your family. 

Rafe texted you that he’d come to the main house to collect you, but you opted to come out for him early, just because you wanted to and you missed him.

You make it to the door step before the front door sweeps open, Rafe’s shoulders dropping when he sees you. “I thought I was coming to get you.”

“I missed you too much,” you joke. Rafe’s lips twinge interestingly, like he might have smiled any other time but somehow wouldn’t this morning. He already has his sunglasses on so his eyes can’t give you any indication of his mood, but you still feel comforted by the easy way he slips his hand into yours, kissing the side of your head.

“You ready?”

“Let’s go,” you say, trying to muster your own smile. Rafe must not notice, because he looks like he’s a million miles from here with you as he leads you to the car. 

It isn’t like you to bring things up first usually, but with Kelce’s party tonight and Thanksgiving with both of your families tomorrow, you need to be on solid ground with Rafe. And more than that, you want to be. You want to be able to lock eyes with him across any room, nudge his foot under any table or squeeze his hand in any secluded hallway, and know that you’ll make it out alive.

“Did you want to talk about the Chloe thing?” you ask, the silence too much to handle after only five minutes in the car. 

“Chloe?” Rafe murmurs, sounding lost. “What?” 

“You said you wanted to talk about it today, so,” you shrug, grasping for nonchalance and feeling like it’s far from your reach. “We can talk about it.” 

“Oh, right,” he breathes, adjusting his grip on the steering wheel. “Alright, yeah. What did she say again?” 

“I hadn’t told you what she said yet,” you remind him. “And it wasn’t really even about what she said, honestly. Maybe a little, because she seems to think about you a lot still and definitely had something to say about it—but anyway, like I said, it was more about, like—”

“Babe,” he cuts in. “If it’s important, I need you to spit it out.” 

You recoil. “It’s important, Rafe. I wouldn’t bring it up if it wasn’t.”

“Then what was it?” he asks, no remorse in his tone, only frustration. “If she didn’t say anything, did she look at you wrong or something?”

You never expected Rafe to trivialize you or your feelings, no matter how many times you’d done it to yourself in the past few days, and the world outside of the car suddenly seems colder.

“No,” you snap. “It was more about the fact that she tried to hook up with you even when she thought we were dating, and you knew and still went out with her after the fact.” 

Rafe seems caught off-guard. “What are you—do you mean when we were kids? When we were 17?” 

“I was 16,” you add pettily. “And I didn’t say it was rational. I told you yesterday, it’s stupid.” 

“Then why are we talking about it right now?” he asks, exasperated. 

You can’t help but reciprocate his frustration, even if you don’t find his warranted. “Because yesterday, you said—”

“It was years ago, Y/n/n,” he interrupts.

“I’m not an idiot, I know it was,” you say. You’ve had enough at this point, and you’re more than suspicious of his suddenly rude behavior—a world of difference from the guy who snuck up to your room just last night just to tell you he loved you. “Why are you being like this?”

A muscle in Rafe’s jaw ticks, and that’s when you know he’s really upset about something. He pulls into the parking lot outside of the cafe, turning to look at you as soon as the car is in park. “Because I’m a little concerned that we’re spending so much time on bullshit that happened in high school when last night you were apparently telling your dad I’m about to quit my job so I can freeload off of you.”

You pull back, mind reeling at the abrupt topic change. “What? I didn’t tell him that.”

“Really?” he says, and you get the sense he isn’t waiting for an answer. “Then where did he get the idea that he needed to lecture me about not taking advantage of your trust fund?”

Rafe gets out of the car, leaving you speechless and scrambling to follow him. But he comes around before you can even get that far, waiting for you to get out of the passenger’s side with agitation radiating off of him in waves. 

“Rafe, I never—”

He shuts the door. “When I told you I was thinking about doing something different—literally just thinking about it, Y/n—I didn’t think you’d run and tell Will.” 

“We—no, Rafe,” you say, still scrambling to find your footing on the defensive. “No, we were just talking at their party. He asked about you.”

It’s hard for you to remember on the spot, and because until now it was so incredibly insignificant to you. You had a spare moment with your dad in the midst of your mom’s soiree—he asked about Rafe and his new job, so you told him. 

He stuffs his hands into his pockets, his tongue in his cheek. “So you told him I might need you to bankroll my pipe dream. Got it.”

Rafe turns to enter the restaurant, and the stubborn way he holds the door open for you just angers you even more—like he knows he’s being ridiculous. The two of you join the queue, a few inches separating you. “We’re talking about this at home. We’re not gonna be that couple fighting at the bagel shop.”

“Oh, good. Maybe we can ask your dad to join,” he bites sarcastically. “Fuck it, Dylan can come too. Might as well hear what everyone thinks.” 

“Rafe,” you warn, weary of anyone within earshot. It’s early enough that there aren’t many people around, but you can’t believe his behavior.

“We’ll talk at home,” he concedes.

You stand beside him in silence while the line inches forward, wracking your thoughts for anything you could’ve said that would sic your dad on Rafe like that. You were close to your dad and you shared a lot with him, but you’d never share something that would make Rafe uncomfortable; you knew how important that relationship was to him. You’d honestly just been proud to share something so exciting with him, that Rafe had recently turned a hobby into something more. That people saw what he was capable of and wanted to pay him for it—that he was starting to see himself outside of Ward’s web. 

“Y/n,” he calls, and he’s standing at the register, grasping a single take-out cup. “Dylan wanted almond milk, right?” 

You nod affirmatively, and he turns back to the cashier to hand it over. The rest of the order you’d called in is on the counter before him, he’d been checking it over just to make sure all of your family’s orders were correct. 

“I’m sorry about that,” he apologizes, but the employee waves him off, leaving temporarily to fix it. 

Rafe reaches for his wallet, and a thought occurs to you. Before you can think of it you’re reaching into your jacket pocket. “My dad gave me his card.”

Rafe scoffs gently, a disbelieving smile pulling at his lips. “I can pay for it.”

“Rafe, it’s all of my family’s stuff.”

“I wouldn’t have agreed to go get it if I wasn’t fine paying for it,” he insists, teeth nearly gritted. “Drop it.” 

“That’s ridiculous—” 

The cashier giving the total interrupts your bickering, and the precarious glance he casts between the two of you as he puts Dylan’s coffee back into the drink carrier makes you want to crawl out of your skin. You do the next best thing, grabbing the drinks and leaving Rafe to get the food as you stomp outside.

You’ve been pouting for a full 30 seconds before Rafe even joins you, putting the food in the back seat, and you can tell he takes one look at you and decides not to press it, not saying anything at all until you’re back in your parents’ driveway. 

“I know we were gonna spend the day together,” he says quietly. “But I think we should split up after breakfast. Cool off.”

“But your sisters…”

“Will understand,” he finishes. A sad, little smile graces his lips. “And be even more excited to see you tomorrow.”

“What about Kelce’s party?” you say, grasping at anything.

“I’ll come get you,” Rafe sighs, tugging his hat off to run a hand through his hair. “Or I can meet you there, if you wanted. I just need to clear my head, baby.”

You pull out your last defense, out of desperation but also genuine worry for him. “And you’re fine to go to your dad’s alone?”

“Mhm,” he quickly answers, twirling your keys in his grip. “Did it for like 20 years, so…” 

“Yeah,” you agree, swallowing your hurt when you realize he’s really serious—that even facing Ward alone isn’t enough to deter him from leaving you right now. “That’s fine. I should get to baking. Without distractions.”

“Good,” he says, finally stepping out of the car. You use the time it takes Rafe to come around to the passenger’s side to suck in a sharp, deep breath, bottling up tears so instinctual you hardly even realize they were coming before he opens your door for you. 

“Good,” you agree, stepping out to follow him without meeting eyes.

—

“What’s with all the pies?” 

Dylan plops unceremoniously onto the kitchen counter, almost as unceremoniously as he had strolled into the kitchen. You’d made four pies in an attempt to recreate the one Rose had loved last year, but at least you were down from your grand total of nine last year.

“Don’t ask,” you groan, rinsing the last of the dishes in the sink. Dylan sits with his side profile to you. “But take as many as you want. Just don’t touch the one in the garage fridge.”

He points at the one next to him. “What’s wrong with this one?”

“Too sweet.”

“I can live with that,” he decides fishing two forks out of the drawer beside him, passing one off to you.

“What’s up?” you ask, the two of you picking at the rejected pie.

“Nothing’s up. Why does something have to be up?”

“You don’t usually go out of your way to occupy the same space as me unless Rafe’s here. Or if I fucked up,” you add.

“Well did you? Fuck up?”

You shake your head silently, shrugging with innocence when your younger brother gives you a look. “Promise.”

He narrows his eyes, but shakes his head, too. “Your luggage came. I didn’t haul it upstairs. Rafe can get it.”

“Mm,” you murmur, distracted. “Sounds good. That it?”

He sighs roughly, a loud rush of air, tossing his fork into the pie tine. “I told Mom and Dad. About Everett.” 

Your ears immediately perk up at the mention of Dylan’s new boyfriend, but you try to contain your emotions as not to spook him. “You did?”

“Yeah,” he breathes, smiling so unabashed it makes your heart melt, your own woes temporarily forgotten. 

“And?” you push gently.

“You were right,” Dylan admits, rolling his eyes. “They were all over me about when they can meet him and what he’s like and what his parents do and… yeah, all of it.”

“Dyl,” you say. “I told you.”

“I know,” he sighs, scratching at Wilbur’s ear. “I know.”

“Does this mean he’s gonna come here? And we can double date?”

“You’re joking, right? He’s never coming here,” Dylan laughs at you, like it’s a dumb idea.

“Why not?” you pout. 

“They’re gonna run him off,” he says. “With bloodlines and prenups and just bullshit.” 

You roll your eyes, even though he’s correct. “You’ve been dating for, what, three months?” 

“It’ll be four in a few days,” Dylan admits quietly, only letting you hug him for a record three seconds before he’s pushing you away. 

“Look at you. They can be a lot, though,” you admit. “I probably would’ve waited until my wedding day if Rafe wasn’t from here.”

“Where’s the Rafester anyway?” Dylan says, suddenly peeking around the kitchen, like Rafe’s going to pop out of the pantry suddenly. 

 “Thankfully not around to hear you call him that,” you quip. “He fled.”

“Smart guy,” Dylan laughs, then looks at you in consideration. “You guys okay?”

“We’ll be alright,” you sigh, shrugging. 

“Ev’s gonna have his work cut out for him. They already love Rafe so much,” your younger brother sighs, cringing lightly. 

“Yeah, they do,” you say softly. “But they’ll love Everett, too. As long as he treats you right. And doesn’t have any tattoos.”

Dylan winces and your eyes widen. “They’re not visible. Easily. They’re not… easily visible.”

“Oh my god,” you cry, closing your hands over your ears. “Not my baby brother.”

“Oh, grow up,” Dylan says. 

Your chuckle is cut off when a couple of texts comes through on your phone, two curt messages that make your heart speed up slightly. “Fuck.”

“What is it?” your brother asks. 

“Nothing—um, nothing bad,” you amend, mind racing—any thoughts of Chloe or your dad or Dylan’s boyfriend suddenly forgotten. “I just have to get ready. Will you pretty please go get my bag?”

Dylan groans, heaving himself off of the counter anyway. “Fine.”

—

It was foolish of Rafe to think Tannyhill would offer him any kind of solace. 

It was great to see his sisters, to hear about school and their friends and Sarah’s new internship and Wheezie’s college choices for the half hour alone he had with them before Ward came home, even if it had been permeated by their disappointment and worry at your absence. Which was of no bother to Ward, who seemed more cheery than normal to have Rafe alone, to get under his skin and ask about California without you around to take over, jump in, or just hold his hand under the goddamn table so he know’s he’ll be alright when all is said and done. 

So it’s no wonder he ends up at the Lodge eventually. Topper wasn’t leaving Blythe’s side and Kelce was off to pick up his girl, and Rafe felt a little too raw to invite anyone else along. 

So he’s alone at his hometown bar on the afternoon before Thanksgiving, because in the last 24 hours he’d transformed back into the scared little boy he always felt like he was on this island, running from everything and everyone. Running from you.

And it’s foolish of Rafe to think he ever could.

Because he’s on his third round from his favorite bartender—the one who’s been serving him since he was seventeen, who took look one look at Rafe as he’d pushed open the door at this dive and poured him his calling card—when the door swings open, spilling sunlight and a breath of fresh air into the otherwise dark space.

Your suitcase clearly made it to you at some point today, if the houndstooth mini skirt is anything to go by. It’s hidden by the long coat you’re wearing, but Rafe can tell the black turtleneck you’re wearing looks just as good on you as the sheer black tights and knee-high boots you’re wearing do. The literal definition of a tall drink of water stands before him, and every sorry soul hiding out in this shithole when they ought to be home with their wives can look, but they can’t touch. 

“You found me,” Rafe starts, shifting a toothpick around in his mouth. 

“Sarah said you didn’t last an hour at Tannyhill,” you respond flippantly.

“I guess I’m more surprised you came inside,” he scoffs, shaking his head. Charlie makes his way down the bar at this point, glancing at Rafe before focusing his attention on you.

“Can I get you anything?” 

You shuck your coat and Rafe bristles—he’d been right about the top—throwing a significant arm over the back of your chair as soon as you seat yourself at the bar next to him. 

You lean forward on your elbows, surveying the contents behind the bar before glancing at Rafe’s tumbler unsurely. “Whatever he’s having.”

Charlie raises his eyebrow and Rafe lets out a chuckle, shaking his head. “No. Vodka soda, Smirnoff or better. Anything else, don’t bother. And two limes.” 

Charlie nods before he walks off to grab a bucket, and you slouch in your chair, no fight put up. “Probably shouldn’t have anything, honestly. We need to jet.” 

“Why’s that?”

You roll your eyes. “Did you check your phone once today?” 

He furrows his eyebrows, because he hadn’t. It’d been on do not disturb, but your notifications wouldn’t have been affected by that. “No, why?” 

“It’s Kelce.”

“We’re still going to that?” he asks in wonder, because he really wasn’t sure anymore. It’d be smaller than it was in year’s past, your absence definitely more noticeable. But neither of you were one for putting on appearances, and it wasn’t exactly the easiest crowd to conceal things from anyway. He checks his watch, noting the early hour. “He’s not even having people over for a few hours.”

“He called it off,” you say, finally looking at him. 

“What?” Rafe asks. Charlie comes back with your drink, and you thank him with a a sweet smile, only taking a small sip before you swirl the straw around and try to cover up a nose scrunch once his back is turned. Rafe feels something loosen in his chest, observing you sitting here in a bar you have no problem telling anyone who asks that you detest. All for him.

“Therese isn’t coming.”

Rafe leans toward you, retraining his focus on the task at hand. “To his party?”

“To the Outer Banks at all,” you say, your eyes full of emotions, ever the empath. “She cancelled her flight this morning.”

“Oh fuck,” Rafe breathes, sliding a hand over his face once it clicks. “Fuck.” 

“Yeah,” you agree quietly, taking another sip, probably just to be polite. “He’s screening my calls, but I doubt he’s taking it well. Topper and Blythe are already over there.”

“We need to get out of here,” he decides, already looking for his wallet. He throws way too many bills down between both of your unfinished drinks, checking his phone for missed texts from Kelce. From Topper too, plus a few calls. None from you. “Who’s car?”

“Dylan dropped me off,” you tell him, slipping your arms into your coat when he holds it out for you. “So mine, since you took it this morning.”

Rafe winces. “Your car’s still at my dad’s. I drove my truck here.” 

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

“Didn’t really plan for this scenario,” he says sheepishly.

“So, what? You were gonna drink all day and then drive yourself back to Tannyhill? And then come back over and let me get in the car with you?” you huff, turning to exit with an eye roll. Rafe races to catch up, barely catching the door when you fling it open. You stand with your arms crossed, stilling on the sidewalk, and Rafe realizes you don’t know where he parked.

Your questioning is logical, and leads Rafe to realize this is probably the only way this day would’ve ended, with you somehow making everything alright. But that’s what he’s supposed to do.

“Baby, I’m sorry,” Rafe begins, not even sure what he’s apologizing for yet. “I wasn’t thinking.”

“God, Rafe, it’s fine—I know you wouldn’t—ugh,” you sigh, aggravated. But then you reach out and take his hand. “I know we have shit going on right now, but I want to put it aside for tonight. For Kelce’s sake.”

Rafe swallows, nodding, suddenly very sober. He strokes a thumb along yours, reveling in your touch when you don’t reject him. Rafe squeezes back. “Yeah, of course.”

—

It’s a scene all too familiar to him—Kelce’s backyard, where he's sharing a short, glass-top table with Topper, the two of them lounging in a pair of matching Adirondack chairs. A few years ago, Rafe might be rolling up a joint in his lap, trying and succeeding at peer pressuring Topper into partaking with him. But things have changed, and all that sits between them is two tumblers of dark liquor, more expensive than they’d have ever spent their own money on back in the day. But both of their dads’ liquor cabinets were always fair game in both of their eyes.

And instead of perusing the backyard—discussing anyone who caught their eyes—Topper has a lapful of longterm girlfriend, while Rafe’s is just inside. 

Kelce had been in a state once you two arrived tonight—weird, quiet, shutdown. Far from his usual, especially tonight, his self-proclaimed favorite day of the year. You’d taken one look and pulled him into his parents’ living room to talk it out. That was your forte, so Rafe had quietly slipped out to the yard to find solace. Besides, he wasn’t feeling too inclined to dole out relationship advice right now.

“He wouldn’t want us to feel bad for him,” Topper says, and Rafe nods along in agreement. “But I can’t help it. This shit sucks.”

“Yeah,” Rafe sighs, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees.

“She didn’t have to wait until the last second,” Blythe says, and Rafe looks over to see her shrug. “Well, it’s true. If she decided not to come today, she’d probably been hesitant for a while. She didn’t have to let him get his hopes up.”

Rafe can’t argue with that, and he wonders if this could be the end for Kelce and this girl. Because he might have a hard time moving past this one, should he ever get the chance to meet her. He knows you will.

“People get weird around the holidays,” Topper explains. “Families and whatever. It’s hard.” 

“How can I forget your first time meeting my parents?” she teases. Topper’s cheeks blush red, and Rafe would push for more details if he had the emotional energy to feel invested enough. 

“Babe,” Topper groans. 

“Rafe, you should’ve seen him on the plane, he was—”

“Babe,” Topper insists, but with a chuckle, and his arms tightening around her, not an ounce of an edge to his tone. Rafe averts his eyes and grabs his drink, swilling it around half-heartedly before taking another longish pull. 

“And what about you?” 

He looks over when he realizes the question had been meant for him. “Me?”

“Yeah,” Blythe smiles timidly. “How is it being back home?”

Rafe doesn’t cut his eyes to his friend, but he’s sure Topper is panicking. Blythe had always been a little bolder than him, and in a balancing way. “S’fine. I’m staying with Y/n/n’s parents, but I saw my sisters today.” 

“That’s fun,” she says, and her eyes find Topper’s. “How’s Y/n?”

Rafe smiles, sensing where this is going. “She’s just inside, if you’d like to ask her yourself.”

“Well, we just…” she trails off, looking to Topper. He looks to Rafe, his lips tucked into his teeth. 

Rafe sighs, feeling his shoulder drop a few inches. 

“I can leave,” Blythe offers. Rafe waves her off quickly as he downs the rest of his drink, knowing anything shared with Topper is as good as said right in front of her anyway. 

“Let it out, bud,” Topper implores, and Rafe sinks further into his chair. 

“Oh, fuck off. Her dad riled me up,” Rafe says, condensing his story as best he can. “About work stuff. Money stuff.”

“Yeesh,” Blythe cringes.

“You’d think I’m trying to put a ring on her finger, tomorrow, dude,” Rafe rants. 

“Aren’t you?” Topper laughs, taking a sip of his own drink. 

Rafe feels his eyes roll at that. “Not tomorrow.”

“Oh, sorry, next week,” he amends. 

“Dude,” Rafe laughs, feeling himself start to relax slightly, wondering if his problems might not be as big as he’d made them out to be in his head. After all, Topper’s jabs were based in truth, and maybe Rafe needed to act like he was asking you to marry him tomorrow. There probably would be a ring on your finger right now, if you asked Rafe when you first started going out. But that was before quitting Cameron Development, before California, before you helped Rafe realize he had a lot of work to do on himself if he ever wanted to be half the man you or any of your future kids deserved. You were his real deal, and maybe your dad had finally called him out for not acting like it. He already knew that’s how your mom felt.

“Y/n says her dad loves you,” Blythe says, confused. 

“He does,” Topper says. “So really? That’s what all of that tension in there was?” 

Rafe flushes at the implication that everyone could pick up on the jilted greetings you both gave upon arrival, becoming briefly concerned of any flack he might get from Kelce later, especially given the heart-to-heart taking place inside right now. He cranes his neck, trying to spot you through a kitchen window without any luck. “Most of it. And also, super random, she ran into Chloe, I guess?”

“Chloe Merrick? From high school?”

“Mm,” Rafe murmurs, distracted and already thinking about how he can smooth things over with you later tonight. The skirt will make things difficult if he lets it, so he needs to be on point.

“Well, bud—why didn’t you lead with that?” Topper laughs. 

“With what?” Rafe asks.

“With Chloe.”

“Wait, who’s Chloe?” Blythe says, her words coming out whiny.

“Rafe’s ex,” Topper supplies. “Which literally explains everything.”

Rafe furrows his eyebrows, feeling not drunk but definitely tipsy enough to render him unable to understand Topper’s reasoning. “How’s that?”

“Dude, she hates Chloe.”

“Y/n doesn’t hate anyone,” Rafe says easily, pointing at Blythe when she nods, as if to tell Topper ‘see?’

Topper scoffs. “Sometimes I forget how fucking dumb you are when it comes to Y/n/n.”

“Baby,” Blythe chides, but Rafe feels himself a disbelieving smile pulling at his own lips.

“You think I don’t know my girlfriend?” Rafe asks.

“Not all the time. Not back then,” Topper amends. “Junior year? The Hamptons?”

“Oh, don’t even fucking—”

“The Hamptons?” Blythe muses, scandalized. “What happened in the Hamptons?”

“You really wanna talk about the Hamptons?” Rafe says, taking delight in the way Topper’s cheeks burn red, like he wishes he could put the words back in his mouth.

“No, we don’t have to.”

“You brought it up, bud,” Rafe reminds him, pushing himself into a standing position. He starts winding his arms around, throwing in a stretch for the effect. “And I’ve always meant to beat the shit out of you for taking my girlfriend to dinner.” 

Topper sputters momentarily. “We did not—it was not—”

“Dinner!” Blythe gasps, before smiling wickedly. “You took Y/n/n to dinner? Did you kiss her? Did you date? Did you—”

Rafe slips away silently, taking the cue he perfectly set up for himself, but not before receiving what he hopes is a good-natured glare from his best friend. The mouthed ‘I hate you’ from over the top of Blythe’s head really seals the deal.

But Topper’s implications sit funnily in his stomach, and he doesn’t like the feeling at all. He heads back inside, hoping to a higher power you’re done talking with Kelce so he doesn’t have to rip you away, because he can’t stand another minute with so much unresolved. 

—

“I really thought… Y/n/n, I don’t know what I thought,” Kelce says dejectedly, his fingers interlaced, head bowed between his knees. “But I didn’t think this.”

You watch sadly as he swipes his beer off of the table, not even interested in drinking anymore, just needing something to hold. “I’m so sorry, Kelso.”

“I don’t know why this always happens to me. Like I finally find someone I like and who understands me and loves me—I thought. But she just runs.”

It’s difficult to give someone you don’t know the benefit of the doubt when they’ve put your friend—someone who you’ve already seen go through so much heartache, who’s seen you through your own—through something like this, but you try for his benefit anyway. “Maybe when you get back to Austin she’ll be able to explain, Kelce. Right? Didn’t she say she wanted to talk?”

“Does that sound like a good talk to you?” he deadpans. “‘I’m not coming to meet your family and friends, and I think we should talk when you get home?’”

“Kelce…” you say morosely, leaning into his side. “I don’t know what to say.”

“I just wish—I wish she’d told me, or that she’d come anyway. We could’ve talked, just us. Would’ve cancelled the whole fucking party and locked you all out if it was too much for her, seriously,” he says. “We could’ve worked it out.” 

You hear Rafe’s soft laughter filter in through the open screen door, and something tugs in your stomach. “Even when you really love someone, Kelce, sometimes it’s just easier to run.” 

He looks at you, unamused.

“I’m serious,” you say, lowering your voice. “Look at Rafe and I.”

Kelce scoffs. “Okay.”

“I mean it,” you answer, becoming impassioned. “It took us forever, and sometimes… sometimes we still fuck it up.”

“Yeah, but,” he says, actually sipping at his beer this time. “You always work it out.”

“Not always,” you murmur. 

He seems surprised. “What? You talking about Rafe’s little storm cloud?”

“His what?”

“He gets like this every time he comes home, Y/n/n. Come on,” Kelce says, like you should know what he means.

“I don’t follow,” you say, leaning back into the couch, crossing your arms over your chest.

“You know what? Of course you don’t. Because you’ve never been subjected to it,” Kelce laughs. “He’s like an angsty teenager again as soon as he steps foot on this island, especially before y’all got together.”

You think back to what Rafe had said in the car this morning, how he’d casted you off and walked right into Ward’s house without you. “Think it’s more than that this time around.”

“How so?”

There’s a knock at the entryway into the living room, and then your sheepish boyfriend stepping into the frame, leaning up against it while you both gaze upon him. “Hope I’m not interrupting.”

“Never,” Kelce says, moving to stand. “I was wondering when you’d come get her. Actually starting to worry.”

You roll your eyes but you stand to, looking for your bag and your keys because you could tell Rafe was ready to head out from one look at his face. 

“Kelce, man,” you hear him say. “You good? We’ll stay.” 

“I’ll be alright,” Kelce sighs. “And I’ve got my hands full with Top, Blythe. Girls should be here soon, too. Wouldn’t be the first time you two left my party early.” 

“Kelce,” you chastise.

“I’ll probably invite whoever didn’t make the original guest list,” he continues, returning from the kitchen with a fresh beer. “Full house. Gonna invite Sarah and John B and his friend who has a thing for Y/n. Griffin might even sniff it out. Chloe, too, since I heard she’s int own.”

“Alright,” Rafe cuts in. “We get it, Jesus.” 

“You’re sure?” you say. 

“Oh my god,” Kelce sighs, leaning into press a kiss to the top of your head. “Go. Both of you.” 

You walk away to wait awkwardly in the entryway as they say their own goodbyes, wondering a second too late if you should’ve strained your ears harder to hear once it takes a little longer than a normal parting for the two of them. 

Just as Rafe emerges into the entryway, Gretchen and Margot both pop through the front door, giggling and holding an impressive number of pink bottles in between them. They both startle when they see you, their faces transforming from glee to the opposite once they look at you for a little longer.

“Why are you wearing your coat? Take off your coat,” Gretchen demands, stomping her foot. 

“We’re heading out,” you say sadly. “Kelce is in the living room.”

“Nooo,” they chorus, leaning into fuss over you. 

Margot notices Rafe standing behind you then, narrowing her eyes. “Cameron.”

“Not tonight, Margot. And take it easy on Kelce, yeah?” he warns.

She looks called out, and you can practically hear the argument forming in her head. “Buddy—”

“For the love of god please take her,” you whisper to Gretchen. 

“We better see you guys tomorrow night. After dessert, at mine?” she pleads, smiling when you nod. “Good. Oh—let me get a picture.”

“Gretch—”

“Rafe, get over here,” she demands, interrupting whatever quiet squabble Margot has taken up with Rafe, who looks more than relieved to take your side. 

Gretchen picks up the film camera you hadn’t noticed hanging around her neck, backing up a few steps and pointing it at you both. “Pretend like you like each other, at least.”

Rafe’s arm settles around your shoulders, pulling you back into his frame, and you try your best to put a believable smile on, recalling Kelce’s words.

The flash goes off and Rafe presses a kiss into the back of your head before moving away from you, his hand falling to your back. 

“That’ll work,” Gretchen says, turning to follow Margot where she stomped off, no doubt in a beeline to a grieving Kelce. “Love you guys.”

“Let’s go home?” Rafe finally asks, his voice quiet even though nobody is around to overhear him.

“Home,” you confirm, grabbing onto his hand and leading him out the door. 

—

Rafe’s done a few dumb things in the last day or so, but this might be the dumbest.

The trellis below your window hadn’t changed at all, but Rafe’s ability to navigate it might. He hasn’t gone up this way in years, and it’s not as romantic as he remembers it being. Maybe it’s because now he’s groveling instead of trying to woo you, or maybe it’s because you’re not aware of his sojourn, not sticking your head out the window and looking down at him sweetly, hair flitting around you and ready to tug him over at the last step. Not tonight though, not after Rafe had sent you off to your room with nothing but a kiss to your forehead and loose promise to talk tomorrow before Thanksgiving dinner at Tannyhill.

And maybe Rafe’s just not as young as he used to be. Which is why he’s surprised to find the window open at all, allowing him to tug himself over and in, miscalculating the footing and landing on his ass, the box in his pocket stuffed under his hip awkwardly as he makes contact with the floor. “Ow.”

“Oh, thank god.”

“Babe—ow,” Rafe winces, realizing he’s probably gonna bruise as he gets to his feet. “I—you said—thought we were gonna talk in the morning.”

“Yeah,” you say weakly, from where you stand in the doorway of your bathroom, your hands twisting together. “I did.”

“But you left your window open for me?”

“Yeah,” you shrug, wrapping your arms around your midsection.

“Because you—baby, baby, don’t cry, no,” he says in surprise, heart breaking as he crosses the room to you and your wobbling bottom lip and big, sad eyes. “Hey, come here, pretty.”

“Rafe,” you cry, muffled in his shirt when he takes you into his arms. “I’m so tired of this shit. I don’t—I don’t wanna be mad at you anymore.”

“I don’t want you to be mad at me either,” he says, leading you to the chair that sits at your vanity table, helping you sit while he crouches down in front of you. “I don’t like it.”

“You usually don’t know,” you laugh, hiccuping slightly. 

“Can’t argue with that,” Rafe says, using the cuff of his long sleeve to pat under your eyes softly, stroking your thigh with his other hand while you calm down. “Baby girl, you’re breakin’ my heart.”

“It’s so stupid—with Chloe, and just—I’ll talk to my dad, I promise I will,” you ramble. “Because he can’t just—he can’t. Why the fuck did we even come home?”

“Hold on, hold on. Breathe for a sec,” Rafe reminds you, pleased when you follow his lead, taking in a long, shaky breath. “Good. There you go, sweetheart.”

“I’m sorry,” you say meekly, still fielding stray tears but on the whole looking better.

“You’re good, you’re good. Do you want water?”

When you shake your head, Rafe feels good to stand, leaning up against your table, still within arms length as he strokes your back through your sleep shirt of his. 

“What’s going on with Chloe?” he finally asks after a beat of silence. 

You huff, but start talking when Rafe bumps your chin with his knuckle in encouragement. “I never liked her.”

“I see that now.”

“I’m glad I did such a good job of hiding it when I was younger,” you laugh dejectedly. “Thought I was so obvious.”

“Apparently I’m the only one who didn’t catch on. Even with Topper dangling you in front of me like a carrot at the Hamptons house,” Rafe says, rolling his eyes.

“He did not,” you defend.

“Oh, he did so, baby girl,” he counters, scoffing. “Are you kidding?”

“Rafe. You had a girlfriend on that trip,” you point out. “And Topper didn’t even know…” 

“He knew.” 

You shake your head. “No, no that can’t be right. Topper? Topper Thornton? He’s like the least likely to meddle out of all of them.”

Rafe gives you a look. “That isn’t saying much when it comes to our friends.” 

You nod in consideration, your eyebrows still furrowed as you prop your head up on one of your hands.

“But, baby…” Rafe says, stroking a hand over the top of your head, his fingers digging into the hair at the nape of your neck. “You can’t still be worried about it. Not after all this time?”

“It isn’t like that anymore, Rafe. I mean, you’re a catch and I’m never gonna take that for granted,” you pause to crack a small smile when Rafe won’t let that one go so easy, tugging at the end of your ponytail, “but I’d like to think you’d never hurt me or leave me.”

“Never ever.”

“She was making comments about our lives and whatever, like she still knows you. Like she knows you better than I do,” you explain, picking at your nails. “And it pissed me off.”

“Okay,” Rafe nods, unsure if he wants to ask what she said specifically, and ultimately deciding against it. “But that wasn’t all?” 

“What do you mean?”

Rafes eyes scan your face. “These aren’t angry tears. And I know you can handle stupid island gossip.”

You groan, hiding your face in your hands again. “It’s so dumb.”

“It’s not,” Rafe insists, batting them away. “Not dumber than anything I’ve been mad about today.”

“Rafe.”

“What were you talking about in the car this morning? Seriously, baby. Let me in,” he says.

“Are you making me?”

“Yep.”

You sigh one last time, sitting back in your chair with your arms crossed. “We weren’t dating. But you were still like one of my best friends, right?”

 “Correct.”

“So it just… I don’t know. It sucked that you dated her, because she was perfectly fine going behind my back before she knew we were nothing.”

“We weren’t nothing, baby.”

Frustrated, you push at his knee. “Don’t be cute, you know what I mean.”

“I’m serious. I think a lot of people thought we were something, Y/n/n. In hindsight, I was pretty obvious at least,” Rafe says sheepishly. 

“I know, I know,” you groan. “Which is so embarrassing by the way. That that many people knew.”

“It is, but it worked out. Just a little bit,” Rafe reminds you. You bump your knee into his leg in acknowledgement. “So what gives?”

“I don’t judge you for it anymore. I got it over it so long ago,” you recall. “In probably the worst possible way.”

Rafe hums in disapproval. “So we’re even?”

“There’s no getting even, Rafe. I don’t hold anything against you from when we were like, infants.” 

“Clearly you do.”

“I don’t. I was young and emotional and just really, really confused about you,” you promise. “I don’t hold it against you, but I haven’t seen her in forever and she just got under my skin about it.” 

The image of a younger you, in anyway hurt by Rafe when he was arrogant and young and stupid and above all else still totally in love with you somewhere deep in his heart before he even knew what love was is always too much for him to bare. Even when he keeps a home with you, shares a dog with you, shares a life and all of his future plans and hopes and aspirations—and shares his heart with you. Even after all of that, it hurts. “I was such a stupid kid.”

“You weren’t,” you tell him, your hand taking a place on his knee again, maroon-painted nails digging into the skin under his shorts. “This is why I didn’t want to talk about it, because it’s just stupid teenage insecurities that I still let get the best of me sometimes. She started talking about how I’m your cookie cutter Figure 8 dream, and your dad, and then when you flipped about my dad—”

Rafe finally digs deep into his pocket, at a loss for his own words but one-thousand-percent sure he can’t sit here and listen to you doubt him or yourself anymore, setting the velvet box down on your vanity with authority.

Your words die in your throat, and you take one glance at the box before closing your eyes. “I know you’re not doing this while we’re talking about Chloe Merrick.” 

“I’m not doing that,” he says, hoping you don’t actually ever think he’d propose marriage while standing taller than you, while standing at all. “Jesus, baby.”

“Then what—” you reach your hand out, then retract it, doe eyes staring up at him timidly. “Can I?”

“Open it.”

You gently pry it open, setting it back on the desk once you can see inside, recognition crossing your features. “You found your ring?”

“I found your ring,” he says as he plucks the gold band out of the box, grabbing your hand. “Actually never lost it.” 

“What are you… wait, why does it fit me?” you wonder, once Rafe can stronghold your fidgeting enough to get it down your ring finger. On the right hand, he’s not psychotic. “Rafe, why does it fit me?” 

“You know Wren’s friend Stephen?” 

“Yeah,” you answer, flexing your hand, marveling at the ring’s new size. 

“Well, he’s a blacksmith, right? And your birthday was coming up…” he shrugs, bashful now, after all of his brevity. “We melted it down. I thought I knew your size, but I swiped that little silver twisty one you always wear when you were sleeping—just to be sure.”  

“Rafe.”

“And then it really wasn’t that hard—but it was so cool, baby, he like let me hold it and everything while he worked the metal, and I have pictures, if you want—”

“You melted your gold band.”

“Yes.”

“So I could wear it.” 

“Correct.” 

“The one you’ve been wearing since we were teenagers.”

“The very one.”

You twist the ring around on your finger, sliding it right up to your knuckle and seeing how it doesn’t give easily, how it was made to fit your finger. You work it off anyway, sliding it to the ring finger on your other hand. Your left hand. “Rafe.”

“You like it?”

“You know you can’t take this back, right? Like you can’t just—”

“I know, sweet girl, kinda the point—there’s even a seam if you really look. But it’s yours now.” 

Rafe can forgive himself for the way your eyes well up, because he surmises that this time they’re happy tears—even though he’ll always hate making you cry. “I swear I was gonna save it for your birthday. Or Valentine’s.”

You sniffle. “I love it. I’m glad you didn’t save it. You’ve just been carrying it around?”

He shrugs. “Wanted it close. I felt so bad when you were as upset as you were it was missing.”

“I should’ve known you didn’t lose it in the ocean,” you grumble.

“And now you won’t either,” he quips. “I love you. Don’t worry about the bullshit. Seriously, baby.”

You stand up then, and you two fit perfectly when your arms wrap around his waist, and his fall around your shoulders. “What about my dad?”

Rafe sighs, stroking a hand up and down your back, fingers catching on your tank top. “Let’s head to bed.”

You narrow your eyes, pulling out of his hold. 

“Okay,” you agree, reaching for a tub of lotion on your bedside table, before leaning in for a quick kiss. “I’ll see you in the morning.” 

“I scaled the wall,” Rafe explains, watching you rub lotion into your arms lackadaisically, barely paying him mind anymore. “And it's one a.m.” 

“Hm, better be careful on your way back down,” you say, moving onto your legs, tantalizing him. “You always said that one rung at the bottom is getting faulty.”

Worse and worse every time he uses it, and he won’t make it any worse tonight. “You don’t want me to stay?”

“This bed is for people who express their feelings,” you say, burrowing yourself under the covers. Rafe sighs, finally kicking off his shoes, moving them to the corner so you won’t claim a tripping hazard. 

“Shove over,” he grunts, slipping in behind you once he unplugs your lights and makes sure your window is shut.

When you remain stubborn, Rafe uses an arm around your waist to move you over himself, grinning when you squeal in delight. “Rafe.”

“I told you to shove over. You’re gonna wake up your brother,” he chastises.

“He’s probably up late. Talking to Ev,” you say, sounding swoony. “I think he’s two hours behind, maybe three? Young love.” 

Rafe presses a kiss into the back of your head, using his free hand to trace the shell of your ear, tucking a few wayward strands behind it. “We used to be like that.”

“You were so cute, pretending you weren’t falling asleep on FaceTime,” you say wistfully. “Miss that.”

“I don’t,” Rafe says. 

“No? The window entrance was a little nostalgic tonight.”

“You really didn’t think I was coming?” 

Your shrug moves your body against his, and Rafe laces his free hand through yours. “I mean, I put the dogs with Dylan so they wouldn’t bark, but I dunno. This is one of those things that just makes you shut down.” 

He hides his head between your shoulder blades. “I don’t mean to.”

“I know,” you say, struggling to turn around in his grip, getting a hand under his chin once you do. “But I hate when you push me away.” 

“I don’t mean to,” he repeats.

“I know.” 

“I think your dad was right.”

The understanding immediately leaves your face, and you pause your petting. “What?” 

He kisses your forehead slowly, buying himself time before looking back down at you. “He was. Kinda. I need to get my shit together.”

“Rafe, no…” you shake your head. “No. You don’t have to listen to him.”

To Rafe, it’s as simple as the fact that he does have to. But you wouldn’t stand to hear any of that. “It’s okay.” 

“No, it’s not. You had your entire life mapped out until a few months ago,” you say. “You don’t need to have everything figured out right now.”

“Sooner the better,” he mumbles, mind reeling as he thinks back to Topper’s sentiments from earlier, about how he pictured a different ring on your finger at this point. It makes him feel better that you’re currently tracing it with your thumb anyway, knowing you normally take your jewelry off before bed but you didn’t tonight. “He’s never gonna let me get serious with you until I do.”

“Did you discuss my dowry with him, too?”

“Y/n/n,” he sighs.

“I’m gonna wear this to dinner tomorrow,” you decide, turning to face away from him again. “Give him a fucking heart attack.”

“Just let me know so I can go to my dad’s first.”

It’s quiet between you two after that, until you clear your throat. “How was that today?”

“You found me at the Lodge.”

He can practically hear you pouting as you pull his arm tighter around you. “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault,” Rafe reminds you. “He just… you know how he is. I shouldn’t have gone at all, ‘cause I know he’s probably thinking a million different things about us right now.”

“Who cares what he thinks? Or what my dad thinks?”

Rafe does, and he knows you do, too. Maybe not as much, so he just lets the question hang there, suspended in the air.

“I don’t want you to feel like you don’t have a home here babes,” you say quietly. “You do. My dad just… I think he really cares about you. He’s probably had the same conversation with Dylan.”

Rafe squirms. “I don’t know.”

“Do you want me to talk to him?” 

“For the love of god, no,” Rafe says, smiling a little when your laugh shakes your whole body against his. Rafe left a company for you, but he doesn’t ever want you to be in a situation like his. Because some fathers didn’t love their kids, but yours loved you. “I will.”

“Good enough for me,” you murmur, angling your chin just so to ask for a kiss. Rafe meets you halfway, but lets his head hit the pillow beneath him when you posture your own body over him, your leg slotting between his. 

“Mm, baby,” Rafe murmurs in surprise, accepting a trail of neck kisses while he guides your leg over his lap completely, your knees bracketing his hips. “Baby.”

“Hm,” you hum, pushing yourself up on your hands, gazing upon him in a way that makes his heart seize. 

“We’re in your parents’ house,” Rafe practically whispers.

You shrug, making to move off. But that’s not what Rafe wanted, not at all, so his hands flex on your hips to keep you firmly in place. “You gonna let me off?”

“Well I didn’t say that.”

—

“I could get my CPA.”

You cut your eyes to Rafe where he’s walking beside you, both of your breath visible in the early morning chill. “Do you want your CPA?”

“Good money.”

“Insane hours,” you point out. 

“Used to that,” he grunts.

“True. Well, if you want to…”

He shrugs, gripping Captain’s leash a bit harder when he almost gets tangled with Wilbur for the umpteenth time that morning. “Or I could get my MBA, too. I originally wanted to go right into it after undergrad.”

“Really?” you ask, coming to a stop when Wilbur wants to wander off and sniff for a while, Captain following behind him. “Since when?”

“Freshman year. Decided against it senior year.”

“Really?” you reaffirm, continuing when he nods. “Why? Not because of us.” 

It isn’t a question, because Rafe knows you’d never let him do something so rash.

“I didn’t wanna be away from you anymore,” Rafe says, to your surprise. “It would’ve factored into where I went, for sure. Just like it would now.”

“Rafe,” you say, confused. “Why have you never… you could’ve gone anywhere you wanted. You should, still. But why… oh.”

“You’re right though,” Rafe says, ignoring the Ward of it all completely. It’s a dead horse to him, the way Ward controlled his life for so long. Forcing him back home after graduation is child’s play. “I should still. I could.”

“Do you wanna?” you ask, shifting Wilbur’s leash behind your back when he walks further off, and eventually following after him to the bush he’s intent on investigating, still glancing back at Rafe when he speaks.

“Not right now,” he says. “I knew what I wanted to do back then. I knew why I wanted to be in school.” 

“Right, no, yeah,” you assure him. “But if we ever needed to move… way ahead of myself?” 

“Miles. Lightyears,” Rafe smiles, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of your head, eyes still bleary from a night of not enough sleep for either of you, followed by a prompt exit the minute you heard movement in the house. “But I appreciate the sentiment.”

“College Rafe was such a vibe,” you sigh wistfully, reminiscing. “Bring him back.”

“Chill,” he laughs. “I could work finance anywhere. Get a job in tech on some 55th floor in the city. 401k match, stock options.”

You furrow your eyebrows at the second time he brings up money. “Do you want a job in tech?”

Another shrug. “Your dad does pretty well.” 

“Rafe…”

“I don’t have the same safety net I used to, baby. I walked away from all of this,” he says softly, almost under his breath, the old build homes you’re surrounded by suddenly feeling bigger and taller, the lawns more manicured and the cars shinier, the eyes in the windows more prying. “And I’m so happy I did. But I wanna give you everything you deserve. I wanna give it to our kids.” 

“Rafe,” you tut, stuffing Wilbur’s leash into his hand so you can wrap him in your arms, your cheek smushed into his jacket. “You’re going to. I’m gonna be here while you figure it out.” 

“I hate not having everything figured out,” he whispers. “I felt like I always did.”

“Even before you had me?” you venture, tilting your head back to look up at him. 

He smirks, looking down at you, ignoring the tug on his arm coming from the leashes. “Maybe not everything.” 

“S’what I thought,” you murmur, calves stretching with the strain to reach up and kiss him. He meets you halfway. 

“A year ago, I was telling you to quit your job,” Rafe says. “Remember that? That’s how sure everything was.”

You fake wretch, and Rafe hooks an arm around your neck, pulling you into him so he can press kisses wherever possible. 

“You’ve come so far,” you tease, batting him away half-heartedly.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket between you and Rafe groans, knowing you have to pull away in case it’s family. You do so reluctantly, reaching to tug it out of your pocket.

“How much time do we have?” Rafe sighs, assuming it’s Dylan or your parents wondering when you’ll be back. But it isn’t.

“No, it’s—Gretchen sent me our picture. From last night,” you say, eyes trailing over your faces. Rafe’s arm sits around your shoulders, where he’d half-heartedly pulled you into his body at her command. His head rests against yours, but the smiles on both of your faces don’t reach your eyes.

Rafe cranes his neck to look at it, humming a short noise before looking away. “We look…”

“A little bit miserable,” you finish, laughing lightly.

“Very,” he agrees.

You groan, your head falling to his chest as you feel the dog leashes start to tangle around you, effectively cementing you to your boyfriend. “M’so glad we moved.” 

“I kind of suck here,” Rafe admits, laughing when look up at him incredulously. “I do!”

“You better figure out how to not suck here, Rafe Leopold.”

“It’s a miracle we ever found the time to fall in love on this island,” he marvels. “We’re doing Friendsgiving in California next year, by the way."

“I know you want our kids to have OBX summers one day,” you accuse.

“They will. And we’ll pick ‘em back up from the airport in September,” he jokes. 

You push at his chest and almost send yourself falling back into the grass as you do so, forgetting your current predicament. He clutches you to him, a hand wrapped around your wrist.

“Careful, baby, Jesus,” Rafe laughs, holding your hand for balance while you attempt to untangle you both from the leashes. “You got it?”

“Think so,” you huff, sighing in relief when you’re finally freestanding, one of two separate leashes clutched in your free hand.

“Still wearing it?” Rafe says.

“Hm?” 

He tugs on your ring finger, fingers catching on the gold band you have no plan to take off soon. 

“I told you, no take-backs,” you joke, falling into step with him again while he clutches your left hand. “By the way, you know you only get one more ring, right?” 

His neck flushes pink, from the parts left uncovered by his jacket. “I think I know which one you’re talking about.”

“You do,” you tell him, bumping into him sideways. “And if the next time you pull out a velvet box, it’s not that one—”

“Oh, come on,” he says. “You didn’t actually think—in your childhood bedroom with Dylan next door—I was wearing basketball shorts.” 

You giggle. “No, no. I didn’t for more than a second.”

“Really?”

Now you get to feel embarrassed, ducking away from his mischievous eyes when you feel heat creep up your own neck. “No. I don’t know, Rafe. It’s a little velvet box. We’ve been dating for years.” 

“Sweetheart,” he coos, throwing an arm around your shoulders, pressing a kiss into the side of your head. 

“Shut up,” you mumble.

“I wasn’t even kneeling.”

[skyheld]

"You can't blame yourself." from asharen to ameridan

ASKBOX MEME 059 / ARCANE S02E07-09 | selectively accepting | @mercysought

It's the second time he leaves a place where he was meant to die.

Stands up on shaking legs, brushes the dust of time off his clothes and picks through the remains of his old life for things he needs to keep. There isn't much left, now. He gave most things away when he joined clan Lavellan, to the few friends he has made in the last ten years, or to the clan itself. He had no need or interest then in riches or treasure. Only a few keepsakes.

Some people watch as he comes out of the aravel. The last few weeks as his strength waned he left is more and more rarely, and while many come to visit him, there are some faces he hasn't seen in all that time --- faces of those he was never close to, or who felt too uncomfortable to sit in a room with a dying person, seeing the way life left him a little bit more each week. When he steps out now with a small pack slung over his shoulder and the staff in his hand, he stands straighter than they've ever seen him. There's strength in his legs, carrying him down the landing, and in the hand that holds his staff. His eyes are unclouded, his lungs draw deep the air of the forest around them. But he doesn't look at those faces, even the ones he loved most dearly. He's afraid they'll turn away.

And anyway, how can he ask for them to look at him? How can he deserve a heartfelt farewell from these people when he failed them so utterly? They took him in so he would be safe, so he would know peace. He risked their lives, allowing a demon to possess him. He brought them war.

Thanks to that they live, but he isn't sure that matters.

"I do not blame myself", he tells Asharen as they meet below the aravel's deck. She sees through him, of course, sees the guilt clawing at him from the inside, but it isn't blame. "I did what I did to save them. Now I live with the consequences. I just wish... I wish there'd been another choice."

Hakkon looking out through his grey eyes, seeing the things he sees and adding his thoughts and emotions to Ameridan's mind, blurring them both. Hakkon coming to him that night when the clan was attacked, Hakkon's strength in his dying body, Hakkon tearing their enemies to shreds, laughing with Ameridan's voice but not his laugh, not his joy in the killing.

He wishes the others didn't have to see it. That they didn't have to look at him now and know that the one they called hahren and bestowed the name of their clan is an abomination. That his back is straight and his hands strong and that he stands in the sunlight again because something else is standing with him.

Ameridan Talvas Lavellan, he was for a while. But he cannot use that name anymore.

"We should be off", he says. A little further away, others are waiting for them to catch up. New faces, but they seem like good people. The one they call Rook has put together a capable group. Harding. He'll need to tell her too when they reach their sanctuary.

He's not sure if it's grief or shame that wells up and fill his eyes with tears, but he turns quickly, lowering his head to brush them away. He wanted to stay here. He didn't want to die, but he was ready to let it happen as he knew it would; he got the peace he always yearned for, and if it had to end, at least it would end in the best way possible. But now all that is different, and that peace is gone.

You are making this so much harder than it is. Hakkon has been quiet in his mind, and now that he speaks it sounds like mockery. And yet he is right in a way. Staying here, thinking about what he's walking away from makes the walking harder. He needs to just leave. Without another word he brushes past Asharen and joins the others, giving a single nod of his head when Rook asks if he's ready for the walk to the nearest eluvian, if those are all his things, is he is alright---

But before they've reached the edge of the camp, where signs of recent battle are still visible, blood drying brown in the grass where Hakkon's battleaxe tore throats and chests open, someone cries out behind them. A girl has escaped her parents' vigilant eyes and come running, calling his name.

Elirin. She's lost two front teeth since last he saw her. When he was strong enough to sit by the fire and tell stories, she'd ask for ones with Da'harel in them, then curl up with her head on his leg and pretend to be a very small wolf while he spoke. Now she wraps her arms around his legs and sobs into them until he manages to untangle himself from her grip so he can crouch down and hug her properly. Her parents wouldn't want him to. They'd worry about the demon. But he can't push her away, and he knows there is no danger.

She's holding a straw hat, like the ones the members of the clan make for themselves and to sell. At first he thinks she must have just been working on it when she saw him leave --- it's clearly her handiwork, childish and clumsy and therefor lovely --- but she presses it into his hands.

"Oh", he says, as his hands close round the brim. "Is it for me?"

She nods, her face set with determination.

There clearly is no fighting that. He would hurt her if he tried to decline. Blinking away more tears he takes the hat and puts it on --- it's a little large, probably not made for him to begin with, but it stays in place if he's careful. There are places where the straw sticks out and places where the woven pattern breaks. He loves it. One of the adult's perfectly crafted hats wouldn't have filled him with as much love as this one. "Thank you", he says, voice brittle. "That should keep me safe from the sun in Antiva."

Satisfied, Elirin turns to run back to her parents. Ameridan straightens up. The straw hat casts a shadow over his face until he turns back to the others, facing the sun.

Ameridan Talvas Lavellan. Maybe he keeps the name, at least for now.

"I'm ready", he says, and this time he feels it. "Let us go."

[escapingrealtiylovinginsanity]

Joe Velasco Part 2 

Part One (Here) Part Three

Joe was ramrod straight with tension. He was trying to keep from pacing like a territorial animal in the space in front of the room you were giving your statement in, but it was hard. His mind had been racing since Bruno had called, and his body was telling him that there were things he should be doing. So many things, his brain just couldn’t seem to supply him with what those things were. He was frustrated and angry, and even though he had seen you and knew you were in one piece, fear clenched in his stomach. And if he was forced out of one more room, he was seriously considering decking someone. 

He didn’t care how irrational that was. He had been a detective with the gang unit for two years and SVU for three. He knew that the victims of assault were more likely to disclose all the information when they were questioned alone. They often felt like they may be judged or looked at differently by their friends and family and in turn often held back necessary and critical information. While he didn’t want to believe that you would feel that with him, he knew that statistics said you would.  

Joe also knew how annoying it was to have extra people in the room while getting a statement. They often talked over the victim, smothered them to the point they didn’t want to talk, or worse started to victim blame their own loved ones. How many times had he cut off worried partners, led angry fathers out of the room, or denied friends or family access to victims because they made his job so much harder? He was usually unapologetic in it too. He was in the right after all. This role reversal and the raw emotion building in his chest at the inadequacy of not being able to do anything, had him promising that he would go into the next situation like that with sympathy instead of irritation.  

He looked back into the window to the room that you were in. You were half slumped in your chair talking to Bruno and Finn. The right side of your face was badly bruised in black and blue splotches from the bottom of your jaw to the top of your cheekbone. There was a cut on your eyebrow, and your bottom lip was busted open just shy of the lower right corner. Joe knew that there was no way that it could be your only injury and the way that you had been favoring your left side only confirmed it. You shifted uncomfortably and looked away clearly unsettled by a question asked. Joe was luckily, or perhaps unluckily, saved from the urge to rip open the door and storm into the room by Olivia and Carisi coming up next to him subsequently blocking the door. 

“So, you and the lab tech that got attacked are together?” Joe nodded stiffly, “You know you have to stay out of this case or risk the validity of it.” Joe had the urge to punch the matter-of-factness out of Carisi. While the other man’s tone was firm, not condescending it rubbed Joe’s raw nerves the wrong way. He had the pull to call the center where you had been attending your training and demand the security surveillance that he knew they had. To locate the man that had hurt you and beat the hell out of him until he was unrecognizable. Only then would he pull out his gun and end the poor bastard's pathetic life. He had never felt more willing to pull the trigger of his gun.    

“I know,” He grumbled coldly, “I’m just waiting until she’s done giving her statement so that I can take her home.” He could feel Oliva’s heavy gaze on him as he continued to look in the window.  

“Velasco you are on mandatory leave for a few days.” 

“Already planned on it Captain.” The lack of argument made Olivia equally suspicious and concerned. Joe finally turned to look at the pair, “You really think I would leave her alone? While the guy that attacked her is out there. While she is the only witness to the rape that could put him in jail for the next fifteen to twenty years.” His voice got deeper, angrier. “I have no intention of giving him even the slightest chance of getting to her again, though I would love for him to try.” Joe’s hand rested unconsciously on the gun strapped to his hip. The words hung heavy in the air as he turned back to the window.  

Sonny was the one who broke the icy silence with a sigh, “I don’t blame you, but how about you keep those thoughts to yourself okay?” Joe didn’t bother to respond. Sonny opened his briefcase and fished out a piece of paper. “Here,” Joe barely glanced at the offered paper. 

“I don’t need that.”  

“Actually, you do. While NYPD doesn’t have a no-dating policy, they do require couples to sign a relationship disclosure. It’s a safeguard when it comes to legal issues including court-”  

“I don’t need it because we already signed one.” Joe cut off Carisi’s impending lecture. 

“You did?” 

“Yeah, six months ago. All the proper paperwork has been signed and filed. NYPD’s ass is officially and legally covered from liability.” Olivia and Carisi share a disbelieving look. SVU was close-knit and secrets were hard to keep in the unit. Keeping a relationship or hookup under wraps for six months was unheard of.  

“Joe, I never got a relationship disclosure from you.” 

“That’s because I gave it to McGrath.”  

 。°。°。°。°。°    

“Can you give a description of what he looked like?” Finn asked.  

“Not really,” You respond without much thought. You were starting to feel beyond exhausted, and the dull pain had turned throbbing. You felt like one big, irritated bruise. 

“Any little thing can help. His race, age, anything that you would be able to recognize him by?” Bruno prodded. You were shaking your head before he had even finished. “Just think about it for a minute. Tell me what you do remember about him.” You sigh heavily through your nose, rubbing at your eyes. You try to oblige him. Normally talking to Bruno was a treat, he was smart and had a wisecrack for every occasion. Right now, you wished he would stop talking altogether.  

“He was white. Maybe mid-thirties? He was wearing a black sweatshirt and navy baseball cap.” You watched Bruno start scribbling on his notepad. A snapshot of the man’s face above you flashed through your mind. A numb feeling took over you and left you chilled to your core. You pulled Joe’s shirt closer around you his sent wafting to your nose in a comforting embrace. “He had blue eyes, like really blue. And...” You pause.  

“And?” Finn prompts gently.  

“He had a tattoo on his neck.”  

“Which side?”  

“Right,” You shake your head at yourself, “No, wait it would be his left.” The picture in your head started to get fuzzy around the edges. “I-I don’t remember what it looked like. I swear I saw it though.” You admit. “I’m sorry, I guess I don’t make a very good witness. It all just happened so fast.” 

“You did great.” Finn disagreed, “Sometimes it just takes a while for it all to come back. Traumatic experiences are hard like that. Memories can come back in bits and pieces.” 

A few minutes later they were telling you that you were all set. Finn opened the door, and you stepped out. Once again Joe was waiting for you at the door. Olivia and another man were standing with him, and you pause unsure if you should interrupt. Their conversation looked serious. Joe makes the decision for you as he comes over to you and wraps his arm around you. You melt into him. You still feel cold from the inside out, and his body heat and the familiarity of his strong body bring you warmth. “I want to go home now.” Your voice sounds whiny and pathetic even to your own ears. 

“Of course, mi amor. I’ll get us a car-” 

“Didn’t you take the bike today?” Joe looked at you strangely like you were the one being weird. When he just stares you furrow your brows tilting your head in question.  

“Yeah...” The word is drug out almost comically long. “Cariño, you shouldn’t be riding... right now.” It was clear to you that he had edited himself midsentence.  

“Seriously? It’s only a few blocks. We could be back at the apartment by the time it will take you to find us a ride.” Joe looked ready to object and the others seemed uncomfortable with the idea. “Or I could just walk it, but I am not taking a cab. It’s ridiculous.” You don’t know why you were arguing with him. Logically it was more than reasonable for you to take a car. The bike would jostle your injuries and leaning for turns would be a painful endeavor. Later, months later, when you were trying to make peace with the day you would realize it had come from a lack of control. You wanted to feel like you had some power and were able to make your own decisions. 

Joe conceded under duress as he led you out to the motorcycle. He put the helmet on your head tightening the strap before forcing you into his jacket. You regretted your decision in the time it took you to get on the seat. It was one of the longest, most painful rides you ever had. You were almost in tears by the time he parked. You struggled to get down and wince grabbing your ribs. The breath had been pulled from your lungs harshly leaving a sharp pain. Joe for his part said nothing as he waited for you to gather yourself. When you find were able to catch your breath he wrapped his arm around you. The gesture was made to seem like it was out of affection and not helping hold you up as you limped to the elevator. However, when you finally made it to his apartment Joe closing the door and locking it didn’t bring you the relief you had hoped it would. 

I couldn’t seem to write anything for a few days there, but I finally got this part done! xoxo  

[familyvideostevie]

october ninth

day nine: bradley "rooster" bradshaw a girl who isn’t you hits on rooster at oktoberfest | jealousy (not really), fluff, established relationship | 1.1k

You’re ready for a nap by the fourth bar. The crawl has been going on all afternoon and you got up hours before that, but it seems like being in the Navy gives you an absurd ability to rally.

Bradley’s hand is firm on your lower back as he steers you towards the bar. There are more people at this one dressed for the Oktoberfest theme than the last but everyone in your group is in regular October California attire — jeans and a light top and a flannel, for you. The bars have been hot and crowded so you keep tying it around your waist or handing it to Bradley.

It’s your first crawl with the group — apparently they’ve been doing it for years — but Bradley has been talking about it since before you were even officially together. The usual goal is to go out until everyone has someone to go home with.

Which you are clearly throwing a wrench in as his girlfriend. But he doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, he’s assured you multiple times of the fact.

“It’s exhausting,” he said that morning. “I mean, I don’t even like one-night stands that much.”

“Sure you don’t,” you’d said. He pulled you close in the kitchen.

“Seriously,” he said. “I much prefer a pretty girl to come home to every night. So I can love on her anytime, spoil her, fu—”

“That’s enough, Lieutenant.”

You believe him. Bradley is a good guy and an ever better boyfriend. He dotes on you and in the words of his squad mades is “obsessed and whipped beyond belief.” Not a bad deal from where you’re standing.

“What do you want, babe?” he asks. His arm is now fully around you, hand resting on your hip so you’re in his space and no one can get in yours.

“Water, I think,” you say. “I’m gonna take it outside for some air.”

He looks mildly concerned. “You okay?”

You nod. “Just want a little break.”

The bartender sets down your glass and his beer. “I’ll come,” Bradley says.

“No, I’m okay,” you say again. “Go play darts with Fanboy. I’ll be back in a bit, okay? I just want to sit in a less crowded place.”

His brows are furrowed. “Okay,” he says, dragging out the word. “But if you want to go home, tell me, okay? We’ll go.”

You kiss his cheek, his slight stubble rough under your lips. “I will.”

The bar is crowded so it takes you a few minutes to make your way to the back deck which is…also crowded. But you manage to find a place to perch and sip your water.

The music plays and people chat and cheer and you feel oddly at peace. Probably the beers in your system. Maybe when Bradley wants to go home you’ll nap for a bit and then order food. He’ll ask you to play with his hair and you can watch a movie and stay up late in your post-nap haze and then you can convince him to sleep in tomorrow.

Bradley is the life of the party when there is one and you love that about him. His energy is contagious and you know he loves the attention, but he also likes to do his own thing. He likes routine and quiet mornings and kissing you before he leaves for work and siting on the couch after a long day with your feet in his lap. He buys you flowers and likes to watch you do your skin care as you tell him about your day and he always picks up when you call.

As far as boyfriends go, he’s the best you’ve ever had. And a not-so-small part of you hopes he’s the last.

Thinking about how sweet he is makes you want to be close to him, even if it means wading through a sweaty and loud bar. You want his hand on your hip, his mustache scratchy against your face as he whispers in your ear.

So you head back inside to try to find the group. You spot Hangman first, always the loudest. He’s talking to some girl who looks very pleased to be pressed close to him, her face inches from his as she laughs at something he says.

And then you see Bradley. He’s no longer at the bar, instead at the wall by the door. He’s leaning back on it, no drink in sight, nodding even as his eyes keep moving around the room.

He’s talking to a girl.

Well, a girl is trying to talk to him. They look totally different than Hangman and his new friend — Rooster’s arms are crossed and he’s not ignoring her but he’s not touching her, either.

So you don’t hurry as you go through the bar because, whatever. Your boyfriend is hot and someone is flirting with him. You walk a little faster, sure. But you know the moment he catches sight of you because he stands up straight and grins. He says something to the girl, who looks a little confused, and leaves her mid sentence to meet you in the middle. He reaches for you and manages to grab your bicep to pull you close into a slightly sweaty hug.

“You okay?” he asks. One huge hand cups your face like you’ve been away for hours instead of minutes.

“I’m fine,” you say. You jerk your chin in the direction of the girl he’s abandoned. “I think you left her hanging, Bradley.”

He huffs. His fingers trail down your side and sneak under the hem of your shirt to touch some bare skin. “She’ll survive.”

“Don’t be mean,” you chide. “She seems quite taken with you.”

“I’m not mean!” he says. “I just missed you, is all. You jealous?” He wiggles his brows.

You roll your eyes. “You wish.” He might, actually. When someone flirts with you Bradley usually gets a little handsy, which you think is fun. “But here I am. No need to miss me.”

His eyes are bright and his smile turns soft. “Here you are. Do you want to go home?”

Between the lingering fatigue and your grumbling stomach and the maddening sensation of his fingers on your bare skin, yeah, you do want to go home.

So you nod. “Yeah, I do.” Bradley kisses you right there in the middle of the bar, shocking you a little until you respond just a little, pressing your lips to his firmly in a smile. “What was that for?” you ask when he pulls away.

“God, I’m lucky,” he says. That does not answer your question.

“Bradley.”

“Nothing,” he says. “Just wanted to kiss my girl. I’ll call a car.” He pulls out his phone and taps on it a few times. “5 minutes.”

“Okay.” He pulls you close to him again.

“Guess I have to kiss you until then.” You laugh but allow it.

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here! promptober masterlist, find all fics under #fvspromptober23

[alexanderlightweight]

I love reading all your stuff! Writing Wednesdays cheer me up because I know there will be great things coming. As for an idea, I was hoping for a different first meeting for Malec where Alec is defending some warlock children (or other Downworlders) from demons/Circle members/others and Magnus comes in to see this hot guy defending his people despite the history between their worlds.

okay so i love this prompt so much. especially because canonically, alec is super soft for kids. i hope you enjoy! thank you for the prompt and all you image comments i adore them

<3 lumine

-

Alec stares at the large brown eyes of the little girl he’s chosen to protect, and he lets out a subvocal sigh before kneeling beside her.

“I will protect you, until I fall.” Alec tells her quietly and he holds out his hand and lets it rest in the air for several moments before she takes it.

“I don’t want you to die.” She whispers, voice hoarse and barely audible and Alec gives a tired, worn smile to the tiny child who he decided to protect.

“It’s okay.” He assures her tiredly and he almost pats her hair before he remembers the grime coating his hand. He starts to lower it and she darts closer, mulishly snuggling under his lowered arm and Alec smiles tiredly. “I’ll protect you.” He promises, exhausted and fading despite his best efforts and it feels like a lie, but he won’t let it be one.

When the door turns, when more bodies with runes come in, Alec tears from the corner he’s been left to rot in. It takes mere moments to tear his teeth through the vulnerable flesh and trachea of the newly made shadowhunters. The cup alone cannot give you abilities and Alec is a nephilim born and bred, not made.

He cuts through his opponents like a knife through soft butter and when he’s done — bloody and his sides heaving — he returns to the corner he rested in and slowly unpacks the barricade he made.

“Madzie—” he whispers quietly, and then tiny, thin arms are wrapping around his waist and Alec lifts her up, holding her tightly as he tries to find a way out.

The downworld doesn’t even know Valentine is alive and Alec doubts that the clave has informed anyone of his own disappearance. Not when Alec was on a mission for them that he now believes was unsanctioned.

So, Alec holds Madzie tight and when he makes it out of the prison and finds himself on the deck of a ship he grits his teeth, because the choice is clear.

“You remember telling me you can breathe underwater.” Alec murmurs quietly and against his neck, Madzie nods. “Don’t be scared sweetheart, we’re just avoiding danger.” He tells her and then he leaps.

Alec can hold his breath for several minutes and Madzie will befine.

That’s what gives him the strength to swim with her for almost a mile before he surfaces. The shore is nearby, and Alec manages to get close enough and throw Madzie onto the bank before hauling himself up.

"It's okay," Alec tells her hoarsely, choking up water that he couldn't help but swallow while fighting to get her to shore. "This is all Valentine's fault." He promises her, because he can recognize shame and self-hatred when he sees it. "You didn't do anything wrong."

—

Magnus stares at the child warlock he was asked to save and the way her magic sparks bright and ferocious.  Her gills are fluttering and already the oxygen is hard to breathe, and Magnus can see the shadowhunter seizing on the forest floor.

“I won’t hurt him.” He promises and behind him, Cat sucks in a startled breathe, “he saved you, didn’t he?”

“Alec isn’t bad.” The little girl tells him solemnly and her gills flutter before the vacuum cuts off. “They tried to hurt me. He got them to hurt him instead and saved me. You can’t hurt him too.”

“I won’t—” Magnus promises and then he steps closer, and she gives him a wary, concerned look but lets him near. The shadowhunter is gorgeous and young and when his eyes flicker open, he lunges to protect Madzie. His body forming a shield, like he expects to fall and readily welcomes it rather than let her be hurt.

It’s so incredibly attractive that Magnus’ heart flutters and he uses his magic to push Alexander to the ground and forcibly heal him.

“You and the child are safe—” Magnus promises him gently and while Cat normally disparages his bedside manner, Magnus feels like a god who cannot be denied. “You’ve done well, shadowhunter.”

The benediction and praise seem to be all the other needs to fade into a restful sleep and Magnus immediately begins to make plans.

Alexander is a treasure he will not easily let pass him by.

[monstrousproductions]

I would listen to a audio drama about "your boy jonah" but also, tell me about your boy! Here is a free space to ramble. Please info-dump.

Free space to ramble?! Don't mind if I do!

So, in case anyone is unfamiliar with the story of Jonah, it begins with Jonah minding his business and suddenly being called upon by God to go to Ninevah [the capital city of the Assyrian empire] to call them out for their sins. Instead, Jonah seals his place in my heart by running away from God.

I just find it so immediately endearing that his reaction to being given a divinely ordained job to do is to absolutely nope the fuck out and run for the hills. It's not just hilarious, but it also feels so honest? Like yeah sometimes we know rightly what we're supposed to do, either because of the leading of the spirit or because of our own morals, and sometimes it's fucking terrifying!!

So he runs away, he gets on a boat to sail off to Far Off Lands (poss. southern Turkey) and obviously... God knows. Because it's God. You can't just duck behind a tree and suddenly God forgets you're there lol And God is big mad and sends a storm that threatens to break the ship into matchsticks. The sailors are terrified - I imagine them as these hardened sea-faring men who are used to all sorts of things, and this storm is so fierce they're absolutely terrified.

And Jonah... is fast asleep. Conked the fuck out on one of the lower decks, like he isn't moments from being smithereened. Running away from God is a tiring business, I guess! Also, as a chronic procastinapper, I can't help feeling like he just felt like he had too much on his plate and decided napping is way less scary that That Whole Mess.

So the captain drags him up and demands that he pray to his god because clearly the gods of the sailors are not paying attention lol But they also want to know where the storm came from and why, so they draw lots to see who's to blame? And of course Jonah draws the short straw.

And then this bit I imagine Jonah being super sheepish about OK. Because in this era and place, it was quite normal to accept that other people's gods were real and powerful, but they just weren't your gods. But different gods have different areas of power, so the sailors ask Jonah who his god is. And very grudgingly, Jonah admits that ummm yeah ok so actually his god is... the one who created the sea and the land.

And I imagine there's this moment of absolute silence as these sailors take in the fact that this guy has pissed his god off and who's his god again? Oh yeah, only the one who MADE THE OCEAN which is currently trying to KILL THEM.

"So they picked up Jonah and hurled him into the sea."

But Jonah doesn't drown! God sends a fish to swallow him up, and he sits in the fish for three days and prays while he's in there, because actually all things considered it was pretty neat of God to send a fish to swallow him instead of letting him drown and he's like "I think maybe I have got close enough to death and I would like to stop having an adventure now and go back to being all the way alive."

Which is very cool having his time in the fish being this sort of pseudo-death? Like he was getting a little taste of it. And he even talks about it as being in Sheol, and being out of sight of God and longing to be alive and back where God can see him.

So God tells the fish to vomit him up and tells Jonah again to go to Ninevah, which this time he does! It's a huge city, it takes three days to walk across it, but Jonah made a promise and he sticks to it. He walks and talks and the city repents and God relents from whatever punishment he was going to send.

Which, in a turn that never fails to touch my heart, makes Jonah... absolutely fucking livid. He is so mad about this decision. He's like, "I fucking knew it!! I knew you weren't going to smite these fuckers!" and God is like ??? excuuuuse me ???

And Jonah - I love him so much - he storms off, he stomps out of Ninevah and builds himself a little hu and he sits in his hut and he stares at the city, wishing hellfire and damnation on everyone in it, and sulking like nobody on earth. He is raging and I love it.

But it's the fucking Assyrian desert, it's hot as balls and even in his wee hut, Jonah's got the sun beating down on him. And God makes this plant grow next to him for shade, which Jonah is pretty pleased about - until the next morning, God sends a worm that attacks the plant and kills it. And also throws in some scorching winds and fiery sun for good measure.

And Jonah's lying there about to pass out and he's like, "I would literally rather be fucking dead" and then we get my favourite exchange in the whole Bible:

But God said to Jonah, “Is it right for you to be angry about the plant?”

“It is,” he said. “And I’m so angry I wish I were dead.”

I just love it!! He's having none of it! He is furious and he is feeling more righteous and miserable than any angsty teenager ever could and he's telling God straight out, "You have pissed me off like nobody has ever pissed anyone off before" and I love him so much!!

And God points out that he's that angry about the plant dying, which he didn't even grow or tend to, but somehow it's not fair for God to not be particularly keen on destroying an entire megatropolis full of people and animals who by the way God is responsible for and cares for? Double standards much? And the book ends! It's made its point and off it fucks.

Also there's a bit at the end there where it describes the thousands and thousands of people in Ninevah as "not knowing which is their left hand and which is their right" which I assume is a metaphor for not knowing right from wrong but which I also just love as such a read. Like, "Really? You expect me not to look after these people? Look at them. They're morons, Jonah. They're the kind of morons who would think, oh, I don't know, that they could hide from God in a boat."

I just love how angry Jonah is, and how afraid, and how human! And I love that he has this sassy back and forth with God and that he gets angry at God and argues and has to get put in a fish for a time out. It feels like such a close, bickering sort of relationship and I think the world would be a better place if more people felt like they could look God in the eye and say, "YES! I AM ANGRY!! I AM SO ANGRY I COULD DIE!!!"

[abigailnussbaum]

I put off watching it for a while because I was pretty sure I was going to have this reaction. But now that I've bitten the bullet, I'm sorry: the Strange New Worlds musical episode is bad. It's bad as a Star Trek story, it's bad as part of the Strange New Worlds story, and it's bad as a musical.

To start with, I think it's time to admit that the musical episode concept is pretty depleted. "Once More, With Feeling" was more than twenty years ago, and what was once fresh and shocking now feels almost rote. Very few shows really manage to earn it, because they don't have to - the musical episode of a non-musical show is an established trope, which means the very thing that made it so groundbreaking is now gone.

But it's specifically a bad fit for Star Trek, not because it can't justify the concept - there's honestly no daylight between Buffy's "a demon who makes people sing and dance" and SNW's "subspace anomaly pulls us into a universe where people habitually break into song" - but because that kind of fourth-wall-breaking, genre-aware storytelling doesn't belong in Star Trek (or, at the very least, it belongs in something a lot more heightened like Lower Decks).

Star Trek isn't knowing. It isn't genre-savvy. Star Trek is earnest. And it takes its world seriously and treats it like something coherent in its own right, not something you can poke holes in and peek into our own universe from. When it comes down to it, the core flaw of all NuTrek shows is that they're often less concerned with being Star Trek, the story, and more interested in being about Star Trek, the franchise.

Strange New Worlds is an odd duck in this respect, because there are parts of it that so clearly understand Star Trek, the story, and are so clearly interested in expanding it, that I can't help but fall in love. Episodes like "Spock Amok", "A Quality of Mercy", and "Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow" do such a great job of slotting into the existing story while making it their own (though I could wish the show was better at telling original stories). I'm especially wowed by how they're handling Kirk, who is such a smart, non-sensational take on the character while still having all the recognizable flaws and quirks of the original.

But it's also a show that thinks breaking the fourth wall is the height of sophistication, that is more than willing to comment on its storyness in a way that runs completely counter to its Star Trek-ness. You see this in episodes like "The Elysian Kingdom", "Those Old Scientists", and now "Subspace Rhapsody". And if the first two of those at least had a Star Trek link - "Elysian Kingdom" is essentially a holodeck episode (even if it isn't as good as any of them), and "Those Old Scientists" is obviously all about Star Trek (even if, like so many media franchises these days, it collapses living in the Star Trek universe into being a Star Trek fan). But "Subspace Rhapsody" is just a gimmick, fundamentally no different from similar episodes on Lucifer or Grey's Anatomy or The Flash.

And worst of all, it's a bad musical. One effect of the fact that this trope has become so familiar is that it has created an sideline for talented songwriters who can knock out an episode like this without putting much personality or style into it, just hitting the required beats. There's got to be a power ballad. There's got to be a comedy song. There's got to be a kicky saloon number and a big finale. "Subspace Rhapsody" feels like the nadir of that cottage industry's output. The songs are all generic. The lyrics are forgettable while you're listening to them. There's no unified theme or style, because the point isn't to be a musical. It's to convey a general sense of musical-ness. Beyond the novelty value of a Star Trek musical - which, as noted, is pretty degraded in 2023 - there's nothing here of artistic merit, much less something that feels uniquely like a Star Trek musical.

(Case in point: the Klingons. Having them do boy band music is a joke that's funny for the audience, probably means nothing to the characters, and most importantly, does not make sense within Star Trek. Of course Klingons would sing - they would sing opera.)

As if to add insult to injury, the biggest character development in the episode - which is also driven by the only memorable song - feels baffling, and ends up shortchanging a relationship that the show has been trying to get us to invest in for more than ten episodes. Spock and Chapel got together at the end of episode 6, had a crisis in episode 8, and are now, in episode 9, breaking up for another, unrelated reason. Seems like a better use of everyone's time might have been to let these characters and their relationship develop organically, rather than informing us, through song, that Chapel has suddenly decided to prioritize her career (by, um, leaving Enterprise for so short a period that most couples wouldn't even consider it a major relationship challenge). Are we meant to understand that something deeper was wrong, and that the internship has brought it to light? If so, why haven't we seen it? It's hard not to feel that the musical was being used as a shorthand for emotional development the show didn't feel equipped to deliver, which is only one more way in which it underserves the show.

[halothenthehorns]

Chapter 1: I GO CRUISING WITH EXPLOSIVES

And so it begins, the book you've all been waiting for...mostly (Looking at you HoH, we'll get there when we get there.)

PJOPJOPJOPJO

Jason didn't mean to overhear, but he was walking past an open door tossing cornnuts into his mouth so he got a shoddy reception of an answer to a question he hadn't thought to ask.

"- so the counters keep track of health, for both monsters and gods characters. And a second set tracks attack points-"

Something about that excited voice nagged in Jason's mind. It was more of a feeling than a memory, something that glitched in and out of his mind to fast to understand the impression of someone once saying this to him, but he turned about and poked his head into the door on instinct to hear more.

"-and the counters have two sides, different colours. You can choose a colour for the game, so everyone knows whose pieces belong to who. There are tons of options, because people like to buy them to match their deck's theme-"

"Do they have them in tie-dye?" Jason found his mouth moving on autopilot, an old joke he was suddenly sure he'd made once before. "Just in case you can't pick a color?"

Nico startled, his deck fleeing from his hand in a cascade, a wolf card landing near Jason's shoe. Will looked up, completely unabashed, and smiled. "I bet we can make our own. I'm all for getting creative with it."

"How about we actually get through a full game before you start trying to invent your own rules," Nico told him in exasperation as he shuffled around, rotating his hips and his bum to try and snatch them back. Then he turned to Jason, an obvious flush to his cheeks as he glanced around at their set up, then a stubborn set to his jaw as he met his eyes like he was waiting for something.

"Can I play?" Jason asked.

That clearly was not what Nico had been expecting, and his jaw went slack, along with his hands were his cards scattered again.

Will pursed his lips, his eyes darting between them, but Jason didn't have time to worry what that hesitation could be about as Nico gave a weary, but pleasant smile. "Yeah."

...

Magnus and Alex's dinner lay in a chair forgotten as they sat laughing and practicing with each other.

"No, you're using your fingers to much," Magnus gently corrected, showing her again slower. "It's just your palm, angle lower."

She tried again with a look of curious concentration.

"Perfect!" Magnus signed and said. "Now you're embarrassed!"

"Sweet," she signed as well, her mismatched eyes gleaming with pride. "Okay, let me try freestyle, and correct me if I'm wrong as brutally as you need to."

"Oh, I'm sure that won't be necessary," Magnus grinned as he watched her attentively sign she loved pottery, art, and painting.

"You got all the signs right," Magnus promised before she could even ask, "but you look angry. I know you're just concentrating, but try to relax. Facial features matter, it's a very expressive language. Take a breath, you know those, try again."

She took a deep breath, shook out her hands, and then looked him in the eyes and smiled, her face alighting with excitement like she was telling him all over again her favorite hobbies were pottery, art, painting, and reading.

"That was, perfect. No notes, I promise!" He insisted before the words were even out of Alex's mouth, or hands, to protest.

Alex laughed with pleasure, and Magnus was guilty for a beat he wasn't actually deaf while he got the joy of hearing such a thing.

"Hearth is going to be astounded when we get back," Magnus grinned in that dopey way he didn't even seem to realize made him look so open and happy. "Just meeting someone else who can sign even a little, it'll make his day."

"Then show me another," Alex said, shaking out her hands eagerly.

His mind went blank, and not in the usual 'Alex just blew my mind by existing' kind of way. "I, um, don't think I know anymore," he confessed, feeling like he should use the sign for embarrassment himself now. "I haven't been doing this all that long myself. I'm sure I'll sporadically remember more, but um, without him around to practice with," he trailed off sheepishly.

"That's cool, maybe we can get that fridge to cough up an ASL book or something so we can keep practicing," she tried to sign fridge, cough, and practice while she was speaking, and while she still occasionally got a look of consternation in place while she kept everything in mind, she really was a natural. She was obviously great with her hands, and multitasking.

"Yeah, that sounds like a great idea," he agreed after only a beat of hesitation, but his smile was oddly longing like she was teasing him.

"You know, you haven't shown me a rather important one," she offered. Magnus hadn't brought it up himself since she'd announced it. "Do you know what genderfluid is?"

Magnus's smile looked a little sad now, giving her the answer before he shook his head. "No, and um, I'll be honest, I don't think there is one."

Alex raised a brow in surprise, more confused than offended, for now.

"Not everything in ASL has a sign," Magnus tried to explain. "It's not exactly a universal language, and, some of it is just used in local communities." He probably wasn't doing that good a job. "Like, like slang, but, more specific to signing cultures."

"Like my name," Alex repeated.

"Right, a deaf person has to actually give you your sign name. Hearth's not genderfluid, that I know of anyways, but, we were hanging at a community center once and I saw a flag and tried to ask him about it and he wasn't sure of some signs himself for the whole LGBT plus of it all as we tried to communicate," Magnus nodded.

"Hmm, guess that'll just be something else to work on," Alex said, the interest in her tone unfakeable.

Magnus's heart skipped a beat as he realized what they'd been doing. Talking about the future, like hanging out at that community center one day. She hadn't batted an eye to hear him say that either. "Hey, can I ask-" then Percy and Thalia entered, eating and laughing, and he lost his nerve.

He'd swear he saw her at a soup kitchen once. Maybe. Out of the corner of his eye. Alex wasn't a face easily forgotten. Yet to say that exposed him for what he was, unless it was even worse and she had been there volunteering or something.

Jason came in with Will and Nico, all three of them shuffling cards and muttering together with smirks on their faces like they were doing something they weren't supposed to be and knew they were about to get caught. Probably by Percy biting his tongue against calling them nerds.

Who wasn't paying them much mind for now. Once he registered everyone was in here he went over to the blood red book that had an orange five on the spine. The color disturbed Percy as he picked it up. He'd had many an injury over time, and a part of him wondered if he'd had his life drained out of him and put into these creepy things.

Heaving a sigh as he went to flop into his beanbag beside Thalia, he watched her for a few moments, who was watching the trio over there nerd out about stats and critical chances and defenses.

She had that look on her face again. Indulgent, excited. The feeling nagged in the back of Percy's mind why it reminded him of Chiron watching over practices when they weren't exactly over there doing anything spectacular.

"Hey guys," Percy finally interrupted. "I'm exhausted, and now I want my food coma, but Thalia insisted we should at least start the next one."

She shrugged without remorse. An innate sense in her told the moon wasn't very high in the sky yet, and more than that, she couldn't imagine what horrors to expect even before the battle began which would be awful enough to get through. Best to at least split up some of this chaos.

They broke off, some more eager than others. Will looked like he was dragging himself to his seat by force, Nico muttering something to him with a look of concern.

Jason flopped into his cushion beside Thalia and began showing her some of his new cards. She smiled and nodded politely with completely forced enthusiasm, but she obviously wasn't going to be the one to shove him off so Percy began with a feeling of unease that holographic tentacle monster was going to appear any second down here.

I GO CRUISING WITH EXPLOSIVES

He stopped at once with a groan.

"Well, Percy's to young to join the navy, so that's out," Alex chuckled.

"I'm hoping he finally found a way to blow up Luke's ship!" Jason said excitedly, it was the only cruise ship that needed blowing up.

Will winced so visibly Jason startled in concern what he could have said. Was it possible the Camp somehow hijacked a Caribbean cruise and it got sabotaged?

Percy tried to keep going without his voice shaking, but it was hard. He wished he wasn't the reason Thalia, Will, and Nico couldn't just tell them all what happened in the least awful way possible, but the fact was the details, the slow trickle of information was the only way he could filter in everything without his head exploding in pain. This wasn't Jason's fault for his ignorance, it was his, whatever he'd caused to make Will wince like that, of that he was instinctively positive about.

The end of the world started when a pegasus landed on the hood of my car.

"I knew the others had to be jealous of Blackjack," Will chuckled like nothing had happened, "they're over there trying to enforce your attention now."

Nico knew better. He'd been watching the way Will studied the cards and building ideas in his head. He had a pretty good poker face when he needed it, probably from to much time in the infirmary keeping the panic off his face not to scare the kids.

He was doing that now, hiding well from Percy how badly this was going to go. Nico had tried to ask him what happened, but he'd only shook his head with a look of nausea. Whatever this was, it was bad enough Will didn't want to lightly share it and have Percy, or anyone, suffer the answer to early. He spent so much of his time carrying and worrying about everyone else, Nico was beginning to suspect if he needed his own advice thrown back at him about repressing all of this alone. Will was the only one here who really knew every awful thing that had gone on at camp because he'd been there for it all. He and Thalia had only heard of tidbits in their comings and goings.

Percy had kept reading after a mild laugh, but Nico kept watching Will for a few paragraphs more.

Up until then, I was having a great afternoon.

"Well now we know the end of the world is on nigh!" Magnus grinned.

"I've had a few pleasant weeks at camp," Percy tried to protest, but he felt how untrue that was. Every good memory he'd slowly gained back had a hollow feel to it, a sense of finality. He knew he'd better savor those while they lasted, because he never knew if he'd get another.

Technically ...didn't turn sixteen for another week... let Rachel an I borrow his Prius.

"Woah, woah, woah, what was this?" Alex twirled her hand and cuffed it to her ear like a trumpet.

"Yeah, Paul's a cool guy like that," Percy tried to say nonchalantly around a blush.

But Percy didn't have an ounce of chalance in his body, and Thalia's laughter ruined it anyways. "You and Rachel were driving around the beach in your step-dad's car? Oh Zeus, where was the Beach Boy's soundtrack?"

"It wasn't a T-Bird Thalia," Percy groaned.

"Because that was the important detail to focus on," Jason gave Percy a pitying shake of his head he wasn't going to get out of this.

Not for lack of trying, as Percy loudly attempted to keep going a few more words like this was nothing out of the ordinary. The briny salt in the air that made his skin tingle with power, the feel of the engine under his feet like he'd only dreamed of being in control of, Rachel's hair getting everywhere as they laughed about last week and the art museum she'd taken him to. She'd been trying to tell him about The Persistence of Memory, but all he'd seen were a bunch of melting clocks and told her they needed some ice cream. Rachel had tried not to laugh, he'd leaned forward and threatened to lick the painting to see which would go best, and they were chased off by security.

A normal, mortal security guard who just shouted about rambunctious kids. No monsters. A perfect day. Like the many before.

The vivid memory drowned out the rest of their snickering so he could keep going in almost peace for another second.

... I know you're thinking, that was really irresponsible of him, blah, blah,

"Literally nobody thought that," Nico snorted.

"Which clearly means we need some adult supervision in here," Thalia rolled her eyes so hard it looked like it hurt.

...My dad, by the way, is Poseidon.

"Shocker! Percy, why didn't you ever tell us!" Will snorted.

"You know me, I'd forget the difference between Chiron and Charon again if I didn't live with one of them half the year," Percy shrugged.

He can do stuff like that.

"But would he?" Alex asked in concern. "I'd hope he'd have better things to do than worry about your date."

"It's not a date!" Percy spluttered at once...yet to his own ears that sounded like a lie. Even in his own memory he'd felt the unspoken that had nothing to do with his other half of being a half-blood, which had not happened since he'd lived with Smelly Gabe. Things with Rachel were just, normal. Uncomplicated. Rachel's favorite person in the world hadn't sold his soul to an evil Titan and was threatening to eviscerate him or anything. Little things like that.

...so why did he feel so guilty for remembering all of this with such deep longing?

... Rachel's folks were willing to let me tag along to the Caribbean.

'One man's frozen pizza is another man's Caribbean,' Magnus shook his head. The fact that Percy had a loving family to fight for made his life seem as fantastical to Magnus as Rachel's did to him. Rachel Dare was in a different stratosphere of his understanding altogether.

... I seriously needed a vacation. This summer had been the hardest of my life.

Percy shivered as memories crept into him.

...I was "on call" for a mission... when I turned sixteen, bad things would happen.

"And where better for them to happen than far away from everyone you know and care about?" Alex offered.

"Tempting," Percy admitted. He just knew he'd never go through with it, no more than he'd be able to stay on Ogyigya.

... "I know the timing is bad, isn't it always bad for you?" She had a point.

"Which I'm sure Rachel knows full well," Will chuckled, even if he did wish she were here to laugh about Percy having to admit it.

...she'd earned my respect by nailing him in the eye with a blue hairbrush.

"Only because it's blue," Nico rolled his eyes. "I bet if it was red you'd call it a lucky shot."

"You wound me Nico, I have plenty of admiration for the throw no matter my team colors," Percy grinned.

Thalia finally managed to give a half-hearted chuckle when the others did too. She still pictured Luke first, and she hated that about herself, but it was clearly the same thing her little sister had been going through back then and she wanted to be stronger for it in case Annabeth didn't take well to the news of what they'd been revisiting once they got out of this.

... He wants me to go to Clarion Ladies Academy in the fall."

"Is their uniform better or worse than Goode's?" Alex asked in disgust.

"Really shouldn't be basing school choices on that Alex," Magnus sighed.

"Well obviously her opinion matters most," she sniffed, "I'm just saying, there's obviously a lesser of two evils here."

...Can you see me in finishing school?"

"Learning which direction to cross your legs and which fork to use?" If Thalia crinkled her nose up any more she'd look like a pug. "I'd fail etiquette class on purpose by stabbing the first person who tried to teach me a new name for spoon."

"They wouldn't even have to be a monster," Percy agreed.

...It was hard to imagine her learning to be a socialite.

"I mean, has she tried both?" Will asked in sympathy. He knew she was currently at that school and had made some friends, even if it wasn't her favorite place. "Being a socialite would be a better guarantee to make changes for those Yellow-Bellied Sapsuckers."

"She shouldn't have to have money to make a difference," Alex grumbled, even though she knew that was how it worked.

... "He thinks if he does a bunch of nice stuff for me, I'll feel guilty and give in."

Alex felt like her stomach was going to rebel in disgust at hearing of this manipulation. She might have been thrown out of her home, but she'd never looked back for reasons exactly like this. She couldn't take fake niceties anymore, pretending and pandering and worse.

 ...so serious we'd have to go to St. Thomas to talk about it?"

Percy felt instant guilt for understanding why that would be as his mind hovered on the absurdly awkward conversation she wanted to have out of their home state. He'd found it easier over those past weeks to talk to Rachel about camp than he ever had with somebody in camp.

...something was bothering her, but she put on a brave smile...sunlight made her hair look like fire.

Percy had never before felt such a painful combination of embarrassment and longing. How was it possible his memories with her were easier to come back than anything involving Annabeth?

The time she convinced him to paint his nails blue, and he left it like that until it chipped off. The first time he'd been over to her place and she actually swung from a chandelier in one of the seven dining rooms they had and Percy had felt like he was in a drunken dream doing this for fun instead of in Antaeus's tournament. Just walking around New York, eating every kind of pretzel man could make and laughing about a movie they'd seen. Being able to teach someone else something for a change, as she'd managed to go a whole block without falling off his skateboard.

He wanted to slam this book shut and tell all of them to butt out, but thankfully there wasn't a judgemental face in sight. Thalia just looked very, very awkward, he couldn't imagine what she'd want to say to him, or Annabeth, or Rachel right now, but it seemed she'd be staying out of it, mercifully.

... remind myself that the mortal world was still out there... monsters using me as a punching bag.

Nico winced like he'd been called out. Being in here really made that seem obvious, especially the way Percy read it with that longing in his voice for something normal he'd been lacking in here, when this was the closest thing to normal Nico had ever really experienced.

... what would it take to get the stupid guy to kiss the girl, huh?"

"A song number by a Jamaican crab, a boat ride, and even then I don't think he'll take a hint," Jason snorted.

"You can't remember your own last name but you're over here making Little Mermaid references at me?" Percy asked in betrayal. He couldn't be the only clueless guy who didn't know how to act on these things?!

"You make it to easy Perce," Jason snorted.

"Oh-" I felt like one of Apollo's sacred cows; slow, dumb, and bright red. "Um-"

That at least earned a snicker of delight from the assembled group. Percy sighed but let them laugh as long as they liked. He had a horrible feeling lurking in him the idea of humor was living on borrowed time. A feeling strong enough that he was already having to concentrate against bending the water to his will, throwing it around with all his might to get out of here and escape something that had nothing to do with Rachel wanting him to kiss her, though that seemed like reason enough to him.

... Rachel didn't hide much. She let you know how she felt.

Thalia clenched her jaw tight to stop herself reminding Percy it wasn't Annabeth's fault she was so protective of her feelings, after all the times she'd been hurt. She could understand Percy's ease with Rachel, but she still wanted to defend her sister shouldn't be dismissed so quick either.

It wasn't her place...but she worried what would happen if this kept progressing. She didn't want Percy's mind to come out of this, still vulnerable and confused and to break Annabeth's heart again. It would be her place to kick his ass if he did that, but she couldn't sit here and tell him not to fall in love with someone from his past if he felt like he'd made the wrong decision of this-

She was snapped out of her reverie by Jason whispering gently, "stop freaking out Thals, you're not in this alone."

She nodded with slight embarrassment. She did keep thinking about this in her own scope. She'd been taking care of her for so long, it was an instinct that was hard to let go that other people could look out for her best interests too. She kept trying to hold that idea in mind that's why Jason was even alive when he should have been dead all this time, somebody out there had been taking care of him.

...Hey, boss, a voice said in my head. Nice car!

"I think Blackjack has successfully saved your hide more than you have his," Magnus said. "Maybe you should start calling him boss."

"Pass," Percy frowned, his mind still stuck on a loop of Rachel smiling at him like that.

... I didn't think my stepdad would be real stoked.

"I bet he takes it to use as a learning opportunity with you," Will offered almost sincerely. "Don't change lanes in intersections, hit the breaks if you can't see their tires, don't let horses land here, all those important lessons."

"I'm just glad that car wasn't a stick, I had enough stress adjusting those mirrors," Percy gave an exaggerated shiver.

...who was riding on his back, and I knew my day was about to get a lot more complicated.

"Annabeth?" Alex asked with only the kind of amusement she could, the chaotic I want to see the world burn kind.

"No," Percy sighed in relief. Gods, for the first time he was grateful she wasn't here. He felt like he was stuck in a twister of every emotion at once.

Charles Beckendorf,

"Oh yeah, the guy that jumped on a dragon's back," Magnus said with all the confidence of one who should have a therapist on speed dial.

"How's that dragon doing?" Jason asked excitedly, only making Magnus's fingers twitch more. He didn't even own a cellphone.

"Doing pretty good actually," Percy said in his own surprise. "He hasn't eaten one camper, he's great border patrol and likes to bring Peleus monster scraps."

"Because that's a normal standard," Magnus sighed. It hurt all the more because he wouldn't believe even Mr. D had met that standard if every camper tried to convince him so.

...would make most monsters cry for their mommies.

"I bet Echidna actually appreciates it when they come over to visit and vent, she should send him a gift basket," Nico chuckled. He felt Will flinch and looked around in surprise, but it still took a few moments to click why. He didn't know the names of the kids around camp very well, but he did remember the sparse few that lingered when they died. Beckendorf had been one of them, seen by him alone. His essence just needed a little guidance to move on, he'd had a lot of unfinished business there.

Oh. Now he finally managed to link together the spiral Will wouldn't shake out of. This very well might finally be the mission Beckendorf didn't come back from.

...took out a whole legion of Kronos's evil meanies as soon as the first harpy went flush.

"Monsters use the bathroom?" Magnus really, really kept expecting for these things to sound normal eventually, but here was yet another brick to his shattered reality.

"Sure, all those demigods they eat have to come out somewhere," Percy shrugged. "They were all in this Thai buffet restaurant when we snuck in to put the bomb in place, and ooh boy, you do not want to know what in the sweet and sour beef they smelled like coming out. We did a public service that day."

Magnus absolutely had not wanted a single one of those extra details.

...His explosives bag was slung over his shoulder.

"He has a whole bag for explosives?" Alex grinned.

Percy couldn't answer. The words lodged in his throat. He couldn't laugh along and promise to keep that way from Alex, he couldn't even breathe for a moment as his skin flushed as if with a spontaneous sunburn. Wrong, wrong, wrong, something was very wrong...

Thalia finally got his attention by shocking him a little harder than she should have, but he barely felt it and didn't even notice his hair standing on end. He looked at her and then back at the book with a deep pit of dread that kept growing wider the longer he forced himself to read, like Kronos was manifesting Tartarus inside him.

...We'd been planning for weeks, but I'd half hoped it would never happen.

"I'm starting to suspect Saturn messes with your time stream or something," Jason admitted. "Just yours, making your hours and weeks skip."

Percy frowned how that might be possible and he'd never know it. Just because Ares was the only god who had cursed him to his face didn't mean the others wouldn't trickle some in.

... Percy's told me- uh, he mentioned you." Rachel raised an eyebrow. "Really? Good."

"Is it though?" Magnus asked in concern. He liked Rachel, the more he got to know about her the more he liked her, but all he could picture was Annabeth shoving her straw up Rachel's nose and worse if this kept escalating with Percy never taking a hint.

"I thought so," Percy sounded defensive. Beckendorf and Silena had been going strong through the summer, their dates escalating past where Percy wanted to hear, but Beckendorf had been worried about her pulling away recently. She vanished for hours and got really quiet when she came back and then would go days back to her normal, happy, bubbly self.

Percy had made himself an easy ear. He felt the exact same way about Annabeth, it had been easy to commiserate together while staking out locations. Rachel had come up sporadically, what they'd been up to, what plans they had made next, how he wished it was this easy with Annabeth and all the mixed, beaten, whirlwind emotions he constantly had.

He glanced miserably at all the books they had to go. He hoped nothing happened to Beckendorf while he wasn't there to watch his back, he felt like he had just as much to unload while it all simmered in his mind fresh as ever.

... I figured this might be the last time Paul loaned me his car.

"I wouldn't bet on that," Thalia chuckled. He and Sally were so generous it was unreal, he'd offered Thalia his car to take her fellow Hunter to the hospital when they'd shown up until she explained they just needed a safe space for a few moments.

... Rachel kissed me before I could even react. "Go kill some monsters for me."

Percy tried to read past that as fast as he could, but he knew his stuttering, blushing, tongue-tied words only caused them to laugh harder rather than their blank faces would have lasted. He was half surprised nobody made a crack about him having to blow up a volcano to get there with her, but Posideon himself must have stepped in to stop that happening.

...what Rachel wanted to talk to me about, and whether I'd live long enough to find out.

Percy was quickly losing faith in his mortality as he tried to garble through that with as much confidence as he could. For all he knew he'd been chucked into this room and Rachel had been looking forward to having that conversation at the bottom of the ocean and he'd somehow botched that too!

..."Oh, gods," I muttered. "Don't even think about it."

"Tell Annabeth what?" Annabeth said from the doorway.

PJOPJOPJO

Or, I guess I shoud have said, the scene you've all been waiting for. Yeah, that sounds better.

See you all on Monday!

[mama-qwerty]

Heart to Heart

This was written WAAAAAAAY back when I first got into Sonic, when Callie was going to be Maria, and Shadow was gonna come in. It references ideas I had for my big Shadow story, which may or may not get written now, but I think you can infer the details from the piece.

It's been rotting away on my hard drive, so I thought I'd toss it up. Not sold on Shadow's character portrayal here, but, as I said, this was really early on in things and I was just playing with a scene in my head.

~~~~~

Shadow sat on the deck steps, listening to the noises coming from the house. Silver’s sobs had quieted, but he could still hear the boy sniffling, his voice trembling as he spoke. Another voice answered him, calmer, soothing. Silver responded, and then there was quiet.

He sighed, dropping his head into his hands. He didn’t intend to hurt Silver, but he had anyway. Something inside him had urged him on. A whisper in the back of his mind. As though someone else had taken control of his body.

Was his chip still active? Those cold, hard thoughts had surfaced as they sparred, identifying Silver as ‘weak’ and ‘pathetic’. Shadow had teleported without thinking, landing a strong kick to the back of Silver’s head, sending the boy to the ground face-first, hard. Images flashed through Shadow’s mind then, of grabbing the back of Silver’s head and smashing it over and over into the hard dirt.

Weakness was not to be tolerated. It was to be eliminated without mercy.

Before Shadow could act on it, Silver had uttered a muffled cry, bringing a hand to his nose. It came away bright red, and Shadow had become himself again. Cold fear flowed into his belly, and he stood shocked at what he had done. Silver sat back on his ankles, lifting his head to the sky and releasing a loud sob, which brought Callie running.

She lifted Silver into her arms, ignoring the blood dripping on her shirt, and had shot Shadow a look the boy couldn’t identify. Anger? Shock? Fear? The one thing he was sure of was its meaning—don’t go anywhere.

He rubbed his hands down his face, uttering a soft moan in the back of his throat. All his life he’d wanted his freedom. To be out of the ARK and doing what normal kids do. To have Ria—Callie, her name was Callie now—with him and together they’d have fun and do things normal people do.

But he wasn’t normal. Tower had done things to him, had made him do things, that were terrible. He still had nightmares. Thoughts he was sure weren’t his. Memories that didn’t belong. There was so much stuff in his head, and he wished so hard he could get rid of most of it.

And that was just one part of his problems. The other was Silver. Callie kept referring to him as Shadow’s brother, which was absolutely not true. They weren’t brothers, Shadow didn’t have to care about him, the boy was simply an intruder in what should have been a nice reunion with Ria. Callie.

Silver was too needy. Too touchy.

Too weak.

Shadow closed his eyes tightly. He didn’t want to go down that mental road again. Stop it.

The kitchen door opened, and footsteps moved toward him. Callie lowered herself to sit next to him, elbows resting on her knees, her fingers intertwined.

They sat in silence for a minute. He dared a quick glance to his left and found her simply staring at her hands. Her face unreadable.

“How much trouble am I in?” he asked, his voice quiet.

She twisted her mouth and he smiled to himself in spite of the situation. It was something she always did when thinking. Moments like this reminded him that she really was still the person he loved back at the ARK. His Ria.

“Wanna tell me what happened?” she said, turning to him. Her voice was soft, no hint of anger. His smile dropped and he turned away.

“Didn’t he tell you?”

“I want you to tell me.”

“Why?”

“’Cause I wanna hear both sides. So spill.”

He sighed, letting his head fall into his hands again. “I kicked him and he fell on his face.”

“Okay, that I figured out,” she said, cocking an eyebrow at him. “Rewind a bit. How did it start? What were you two doing?”

Shadow lifted his head and stared out into the trees. “He wanted to learn to fight. To get better with his powers.”

She gave a short nod. “Probably not a bad idea, actually.”

“That’s what I thought. So I brought him outside to do a little sparring.” He turned to her. “Nothing major, I wasn’t really gonna hurt him or anything. But I was gonna throw some punches so he could practice blocking.” He gave her a pleading look. “I really didn’t want to hurt him. You have to believe me.”

She looked in his eyes for a second before smiling. “I believe you, Fuzzbutt. What happened next?”

He turned back to the trees, brow furrowing. “We did some back and forth for a bit, and he was getting pretty good at blocking and redirecting my punches. I added some kicks and he was doing really well. He managed to knock me down, and it was a pretty good hit. That’s when . . .” His brows drew together.

“When what?” she asked, her voice soft. “What happened, Shadow?”

He shook his head. “I . . . I don’t know. Suddenly it wasn’t fun anymore. I felt like I . . . wasn’t in control. I felt . . . cold. I could see myself getting up, and Silver must have seen something wrong because his face changed. He looked kinda scared. I teleported behind him, and kicked him really hard in the back of the head.” He grabbed his arms to hug himself. “My thoughts were so . . . violent. Like I really wanted to hurt him. Bad.”

Callie sat quiet for a minute. “Then what happened?”

He shrugged. “Then he screamed and I saw the blood and suddenly I felt like myself again. And I was so scared.” He turned to her. “Not of getting in trouble, but because I had done that. Without thinking. I hurt him, and would have kept hurting him if he hadn’t cried.” He released his arms and buried his face in his hands. “I can’t get his voice out of my head.”

“Silver’s?”

Shadow lifted his head to look at Callie, his muzzle pulled into a hateful snarl. “Tower’s. It’s his voice I hear when I have those violent urges. Those horrible images in my head. ‘Strength is power, Shadow. Weakness must be eliminated. To be weak is to be dead.’” He pushed the heels of his hands against his eyes. “He made me this way. Messed me up. I’m not a person anymore. Just some weapon to hurt people. Even when I don’t want to.”

“Hey,” Callie said, taking his hands away from his eyes and holding them in her own. “Look at me.” He opened his eyes and she locked them with hers. “You are not just a weapon. You’re a boy who was put through some horrible things, and you’re dealing with the trauma from that. I wish I could get you the help you need, but I can’t. I’m trying to read everything I can get my hands on about dealing with kids with trauma, but yours is such a unique case I’m not sure any of them could really help.”

She released his hands to cup his face. “Shadow, you’re my boy, and I love you so much. I know you’re hurting and dealing with such hard things. I wish I could take all that on myself. It kills me that I can’t. But I want you to know that I’m here whenever you’re struggling. You find me, and you tell me what you’re feeling. I’ll help you however I can.”

He pulled his face from her hands and turned away. “That doesn’t do any good when these thoughts appear out of nowhere. I was fine, until I wasn’t.” He screwed his eyes closed tightly. “What would have happened if he hadn’t screamed when he did? Would I have . . .”

“Stop it.”

He turned to look at her, brows furrowed.

“Shadow, I can’t pretend to know what happened to you,” she said, her voice quiet. “What they did to you. Tails said there was a lot of code on your chip. He managed to disable it as well as he could, but we didn’t have much time at the lab. It’s possible that some part of it is still active. But it’s also possible that what you’re experiencing is simply . . .” She rolled her hand, as though looking for the right word. “A conditioned response. A kind of muscle memory. You were ‘programmed’ to respond a certain way to certain stimuli. When you sparred with Silver, it’s very possible your training kicked in automatically. When you took that hit, you went into a sort of survival mode and reacted.”

Shadow turned back, his head lowered and looking at his shoes. It made sense. It was possible. “But that doesn’t explain the thoughts I had once he was down. If it was just survival mode, why did I . . . want to keep hurting him?”

“Because that’s what Tower would have wanted,” she said, her mouth twisting at the taste of the man’s name. “And you were programmed to his liking. But,” she said, giving him a half smile, “you didn’t follow through.”

“I thought about it.”

“But you didn’t. I was there from the very beginning, remember? I know how fast your reflexes are. If you really wanted to hurt him more, it wouldn’t have mattered if he cried. You wouldn’t have given him a chance to. Yes, you had those thoughts, but you did not act on them.”

He thought about this. That made sense too.

“Honey, I know you’re hurting. I know you’re having nightmares you don’t tell me about. I hear you at night. Sometimes you cry out in your sleep. And all I can do is sit by your bed and hold your hand.” She smiled at his shocked face. “You didn’t know I did that, did you?” He shook his head. “I sit with you until you calm down and fall into a deeper, more restful sleep.” She leaned closer to kiss his forehead. “I really wish I could scoop out all those bad thoughts of yours and take them on myself. So you could be free.”

He said nothing, but wiped the tears that had started running down his cheeks.

“You need to let me in, baby,” she said softly, running a hand down his spines. “I want to help you, but I feel like you’re intentionally keeping me out. Please, talk to me. Let me know what you’re thinking and how you’re feeling. We can figure this out. We’re stronger together than we are apart. Remember?” He nodded, swiping his arm beneath his nose. “Because we’re a family. You, me, and your brother.”

“He’s not my brother,” Shadow hissed, suddenly angry. He stood and moved to the edge of the deck. “Stop calling him that. He’s just someone who lives in the same house.”

“Shadow.”

Her tone was not one of anger, or of frustration. It was calm, but firm. He turned to her, brows furrowed. “He’s not.”

“And I’m not your mother,” she said, shrugging. “If you really want to argue semantics, I’m not your mother or your sister. I’m just some girl who was tasked with looking after you way back when.”

He crossed his arms, turning away. “That’s different.”

“Why?”

He turned back, muzzle pulled unto an angry snarl. “Because you were mine before you were his!” he hissed, the tears returning. “You were mine and he’s here calling you ‘mom’ and acting like he belongs here and getting all these hugs and kisses and it’s not fair I feel like the odd one out when you were mine first!”

Callie’s eyebrows shot up, as the true understanding of his moods clicked home. Yes, he was dealing with all the crap Tower did to him, but beneath that was the very real, very simple pain of feeling like the person he loved most in the world suddenly didn’t love him as much as she used to. That some other boy had taken his place within her heart. In her life.

“Oh, Shadow,” she said, turning toward him. “Oh honey. Is that what this is about? You think I love Silver more?”

He shrugged, wiping at his cheeks. “He’s not messed up. He’s not dangerous. He’s--”

“A refugee from a post-apocalyptic world,” she finished, her voice soft. Shadow gave her a look of shock, and she nodded. “He’d been on his own since he was five, in a world that was pretty much turned to ash from something that happened before he was born. There was little food or water, and he had to worry about roving groups of bandits finding him and slitting his throat for whatever meager supplies he had.”

He moved closer and sat back next to her on the steps. “I didn’t know that.”

“He was incredibly underweight when he came here. Dehydrated too. And scared, oh the boy was so scared because that’s the only life he knew up to that point. He’s so affectionate with me because he was extremely touch-starved. He’d literally never had a positive experience with physical touch since he lost his family when he was just a little boy. That’s why he’s such a snuggler.”

Shadow lowered his head to look at his shoes. “I guess that makes sense.” He didn’t know what else to say.

“Honey, I love Silver. In a lot of ways, he helped me work through your loss when he showed up. But baby, he never replaced you. He was somehow thrown into this world, quite violently actually, and he needed someone to take care of him. And I did. And I love that boy so much.”

She tucked a knuckle under his chin to make him look at her.

“And I love you so much. It’s not a competition. There’s not some set amount of love in my heart, like a pie that needs to be handed out in even slices. I love you both so, so much. You’re both my boys. My sons.” She ran a hand down his spines. “Now, it’s okay if you don’t want to call me Mom. It’s even okay if you don’t want to call Silver your brother. I can respect that. But don’t you dare think I love either one of you more than the other. You’re my Fuzzbutt. He’s my Bug. And there’s more than enough room in my heart for both of you.”

“Mom?” a timid voice from the kitchen door called. The two turned to see Silver standing there, half-in and half-out of the house. “The bleeding stopped.”

“I told you it would,” she said, reaching a hand toward him. “C’mere and lemme see.”

The gray hedgehog walked out, flicking his eyes quickly to Shadow, before moving them back to Callie. He lowered the ice pack he’d been holding to his muzzle. “My nose hurts.”

“Yeah, it’s probably going to be bruised for a few days,” she said, gently inspecting his nose and muzzle. “Just keep holding the ice pack on it for a bit longer. It should help with the swelling.”

“Okay,” he said, lifting the ice pack back up. “Can I have a popsicle?”

“Hmm, why don’t you wait until I come in? I think we’re just about done.”

“’Kay.” The boy turned and walked toward the door. He pulled it open and turned back. “Can I watch TV?”

“Sure, sweetie.”

Another eye flick toward Shadow, and then Silver was gone, back inside the house.

“So how much trouble am I in?” Shadow asked, pulling his shoulders up.

“Well, that depends,” Callie said, resting an elbow on her knee and propping her chin in a hand. “Did you actually listen to what I was saying, or did you just tune me out and nod in the appropriate places?” She bumped his knee with hers. “’Cause I know you do that sometimes.”

He gave a little laugh. “I listened. I didn’t know any of that about Silver.”

“Where did you think he came from?”

He shrugged. “Dunno. The same place Knuckles and Tails did? Or he could have been on Earth for a long time, like Sonic.”

“Nope. He came about a year an a half ago.”

“Oh.”

They sat in silence for a moment before Callie sighed. “I don’t want to punish you for something you might not have been able to control. But if I don’t do anything, Silver might think that I don’t think what you did was a big deal.”

He shrugged. “You can go ahead and punish me. I feel bad about what I did. A punishment seems right.”

She looked at him, a small smile on her lips. “You’re a good boy, Shadow.” He shrugged, his muzzle burning pink. “Okay, no video games. You set and clear the table every night, and help me do the dishes. For one week. Does that sound fair?” He nodded. “Do I have to tell you to apologize to your bro—ah, Silver?” He shook his head. “Good. Let’s head inside.”

They walked into the kitchen, and Callie pulled two popsicles out of the freezer. She handed them to Shadow, who walked into the living room, where Silver was watching TV.

“Here,” he said quietly, holding a blue popsicle out to the gray boy.

Silver flicked his eyes between the frozen treat and Shadow, finally reaching forward to take the offered pop after tossing his ice pack on the table in front of them. “Thanks.”

Shadow climbed onto the couch, sucking on his own popsicle. “I’m sorry I hit you like that.” Silver didn’t respond. “I really didn’t want to hurt you.”

They sat in silence for a minute before Silver spoke. “You changed right before you kicked me.”

Shadow turned to him. “What?”

“You changed,” Silver said, licking his popsicle. Blue food coloring was already staining his muzzle. “Your face. It got kinda scary looking. Like you were really mad.” He turned back toward the TV.

“Oh.”

Another few minutes passed. Silver finished his popsicle and now chewed on the stick. When he spoke, his voice was soft. “Do you hate me?”

Shadow jerked his head to the side. “What?”

“You don’t seem to like me very much,” Silver said, turning his golden eyes toward the dark hedgehog. “I’m not sure what I did to make you hate me. Whatever it was, I’m really sorry.”

Shadow chewed the last of his popsicle, considering what the younger boy said. “I don’t hate you, Silver.” He sighed. “I guess I was jealous.”

Silver cocked an eyebrow. “Of me? Why?”

Shadow shrugged. “Because Callie loves you so much.”

“She loves you too. When she found out you were still alive, she got really upset. She nearly beat up that commander guy to try and find you.”

“She did?”

Silver nodded. “It was kinda funny, but kinda scary. I’ve never seen Mom that mad before. And even when Tom got mad at her for not telling all she knew about you, she was still really focused on finding you. She never gave up. Even when you were beating up Sonic and Knuckles. She always wanted to get to you.”

Shadow thoughtfully chewed his popsicle stick. He knew she tried to get him to remember her during that . . . incident, but didn’t know any of the details.

“She really loves you, Shadow,” Silver said, his voice soft. “I know it bothers her that she can’t help you like you need. But she would do anything to keep you safe. You have to know that.”

Shadow nodded. “Yeah. I know.” He looked at the boy next to him. “She really loves you too. She told me about where you came from. How terrible it was. I’m sorry I never asked about it.”

Silver shrugged. “I don’t like to think about it, let alone talk about it,” he said, tossing his stick onto the melting ice pack on the coffee table. “It was . . . bad. I still have nightmares about it sometimes. But being here is so much better. I love it here.” He paused, his cheeks turning pink. “I love Mom. She was so nice, and took care of me right from the beginning. She made me feel safe. That’s . . . that’s something I hadn’t felt since my . . . my family was with me.”

Shadow smiled. “Yeah, she was with me for as far back as I can remember. She sang to me, and taught me, and made the time at the ARK fun. Well, as much fun as we could have, anyway. She was my only friend.” He furrowed his brows. “My only family.”

Silver was watching him, his brow pinched. “Shadow?”

The dark hedgehog looked over. “Yeah?”

“Do you think we could start over? Like, try to be more like friends?”

Shadow stared at the boy next to him for a long moment, before a smile curled his lips. He held out a hand. “Hi. I’m Shadow.”

A wide smile spread on the gray hedgehog’s lips. “I’m Silver,” he said, grabbing the offered hand and shaking it quickly. “Nice to meet you.”

[one-winged-dreams]

Save the Date

ship: what do angels dream of (angeal x adriel) (pl: adriel & zack) source: final fantasy vii word count: 1408

JUST TALKING WEDDING PLANS WITH ZACK, DON'T MIND ME

tag list: @dearly-beeloved @camellias-and-coriander @rebel-wolf13 @sunstar-of-the-north @mahitoslittlebird @goldenworldsabound @edencantstopfallininlove @sosoftandsweet @dorothys-wife @faerie-circle-ships @kylars-princess

"So you've got a date decided, then?"

Adriel stopped pacing at the question, his hand coming up to grip the wrist of the hand holding his phone to his ear.

He wasn't sure if Zack had initially called to talk about wedding plans, excitable as he was. The answer to THAT particular question was up in the air, but Adriel never minded speaking with him at any rate.

And Zack's question WAS going to come up eventually.

"Yeeesss," he answered tentatively, looking out one of his living room windows. The day had passed by rather quickly, but it was difficult to ascertain just HOW quickly based on how early the sun set this time of year.

"What do you mean 'Yeeeessss,' you gonna tell me or what?" Zack prompted. At this point, it didn't matter why he called, Adriel knew that the conversation was now irrevocably wedding-related, regardless of initial intention.

He sighed, unable to help but smile, not doing so a difficult enough challenge around Zack in general.

"Why? Thinking about letting your plus one know? And your plus one's plus one?"

"Sure am! Cloud's not usually the type to go to these sort of things, but he'll have a good time since you and Angeal are my friends. And you're gonna LOVE Bee," Zack began to ramble, only stopping as he heard Adriel chuckle, "What? Are you laughing at me? Come on, just tell me."

Adriel's smile spread further, and he leaned against the back of the couch, placing a hand on the edge to support himself.

"You'll get your card in the mail the same day as everyone else, Zack."

A huff on the other end of the line made him giggle.

"Might as well send out the invitations already if that's how it's gonna be."

This brought a blush to Adriel's face rather than a smile, one of his hands instinctively coming up to cover the lower half of his face.

"W-We're still working on those. The save the date cards will be out tomorrow, Reeve's not letting me skimp out on the actual invitations. He wants us to make something nice, I don't know. It's not really a big deal to us, they're just cards," he mumbled.

Zack made some sort of exasperated whine that truly hammered home what a puppy he was.

"They're not, though! You and Angeal are two out of three of my BEST FRIENDS! So you make something with heart, 'cause I'm gonna keep it FOREVER."

"Zack…" Adriel murmured, touched by the sentiment. It didn't come as too much of a surprise, but it incited a strong emotional response regardless.

"So is that why you're not doing field work right now? Reeve's got you on leave so you can plan the wedding? By the way it sounds, it's gonna be pretty soon."

"You can say that, yeah," Adriel's eyes scanned the room as he adjusted the phone. That was all he would say on the matter, and it was clear Zack knew he wasn't getting any more out of him, "You doing delivery work with Cloud right now? Working even on your days off, huh?"

"Of course! Holidays are coming up, and Cloud can use all the help he can get. It's like everyone in Midgar and their mom need a package sent, it's CRAZY. What about Angeal? He helping you out today?"

Adriel paused and then sighed.

"He's in Junon with Genesis, heading security detail for Rufus. They're expanding on the self-sustaining energy plan over there, and a lot of people who still support Shinra's old cause are… Unhappy, to say the least."

"Damn. They couldn't get Sephiroth to do it?" Zack's pout was nearly audible.

"He and Owen are helping Reeve check out the old reactor in Corel. Trying to make sure it's not causing any problems. It's been all hands on deck lately. Except for me, I guess," Adriel let out a breath through his nose, his own pout materializing as he ran the circumstances over in his head again.

"That really sucks. But Reeve's right, at least one of you needs to start on those wedding plans. And you know Angeal's no good at that sort of thing," Good ol' Zack, trying to remain positive despite everything.

"And I am?" Adriel only half-joked, tilting his head back to stare at the ceiling. "It's not gonna be a big deal. We're just taking a handful of you guys to Banora. Might have Lazard officiate, might have Genesis. It depends on if Genesis can behave himself. He REALLY wants to officiate, by the way."

"Oh I'll bet! Good luck with that, have Lazard put something together just in case."

This got another chuckle from Adriel, Zack responding with a pleased hum.

"Angeal calling you often?" Zack minorly changed the subject.

A smile returned to Adriel's lips, soft and affectionate.

"At LEAST twice a day."

"Ohhh, at least, huh? Do I wanna know what any extra phonecalls might be about?"

The comment was so brazen that Adriel couldn't suppress a flustered laugh in time.

"ZACK!"

"Guess I don't! Alright, I'll stop. When's he coming home, anyway?"

As Adriel looked out the window, the sun was setting low, the sky ablaze with warm colors that incited a sense of romanticism.

"Hopefully? Tomorrow or the day after. My money's on the day after, God knows how long Rufus is going to be doing his thing over there. I was a SOLDIER, I never understood the bureaucracy thing."

His audible disappointment was interrupted as the doorbell rang, eyes narrowing to a squint.

"That's not you at the door, is it?"

"Me? Nah, I'm in Sector 7 right now. This is my last round for the day. Why, you want me to come over?"

Adriel frowned thoughtfully, approaching the door but keeping his phone loosely at his ear.

"You can if you want, but I-"

"A little chilly out here, hope there's someone home to warm me up," came a familiar and far more than welcome voice from behind the door.

Eyes widening, Adriel nearly dropped the phone.

"I have to go."

"Uh, okay see y-" Zack was cut off as Adriel hung up and tossed the phone onto the couch.

After a quick dash to the door, he all but flung it open, the ultimate object of his desire standing there, rolling his shoulder. Angeal had probably been holding that traveling bag for a while if he had walked all the way home from the bus station.

As the door opened before him, Angeal stopped mid-stretch, a grin immediately spreading across his face.

"Oh, lucky me. My angel was home after all, good. I don't think I could have waited another minute to see you again."

The tears that sprung to Adriel's eyes were expected, his weepy expression paired with a deep blush making Angeal laugh.

"I'll take that as to meaning the feeling is mutual. Can I get a-"

He was ultimately unable to finish the request, as Adriel had flung himself at him so hard and so quickly that he had to drop his bag to catch him.

As always, Angeal was a brick wall that didn't budge an inch, no matter how hard Adriel threw himself at him. As he heard Angeal laugh again, feeling his strong arms wrap around him as he buried himself in his chest, he whimpered in the most pathetic and unflattering manner.

"What? What's the matter my angel? Don't cry, I'm here," Angeal chuckled while offering a tight squeeze.

"I ju-just! L-love you so mu-uch!" came Adriel's weepy reply, gripping the fabric of Angeal's shirt so hard it was a wonder it hadn't begun to tear.

Humming affectionately, Angeal placed a kiss on the top of Adriel's head.

"I know. I love you too. Let's go inside, mh? It's cold out here, and I did ask if someone could warm me up. Someone being you, if that wasn't clear," Angeal half-teased, not releasing Adriel as he leaned to the side to pick up his bag.

Proceeding to move the straps down to the crook of his elbow, Angeal didn't hesitate to turn his hug into a bridal carry, reveling in the yelp that it incited.

"Angeal!" Adriel exclaimed with a sniffle, his arms immediately wrapping around Angeal's neck by habit alone.

"Hope you weren't in the middle of any wedding planning. Because we've got a lot of 'warming up' to catch up on."