summary: Feelings are out, you're still rambling, and Steve thinks you're wonderful.
A/N: when the world thought i abandoned them, i came back... HORRAY!!!! so this is probably my last instalment to this little series, what a joy it has been to write. i'm really proud of this one and am so excited to see how I'll continue to progress in my writing journey. thank you for all the love the last 3 fics got, you have no idea how much my hear soared when I got a notif from this site. i adore you all. pls lmk if you have any suggestions for future fics!
warnings: sfw, swearing, fluff, making out
You don't think your posture has ever been better than right now, sitting in Steve Harrington's living room, hands firmly clasped and placed in your lap. Your eyes quickly scan the beige colored walls, noting the lack of family pictures. In fact, the decor of the entire living room seemed to be more staged than personal, almost as if wanting to give the illusion that this was indeed a home, but not quite hitting the mark.
Steve walks back in from the kitchen carrying two glasses of water and places them on the table in front of you. As he's about to take a seat beside you, he lets out a shocked gasp before hurrying to the cabinet next to the window, pulling out two coasters.
He chuckles nervously as you eye him contemplatively. "My mom is a real stickler for these," he says after he sits back down, running an anxious hand through his hair. "She'll notice the rings the water make the second she walks through the door."
You let out a hum in acknowledgment, not quite sure how to continue the conversation without making him more tense. You notice his shoulders are sort of hunched in, and he's running a hand through his hair again.
Without thinking, you reach out to grab his wrist, pulling it away from his brown locks. Steve looks at you in surprise, mouth slightly parted.
"You're going to ruin your hair even more and I know for a fact you spent at least half and hour on it this morning," you say, reaching out to fix a piece that has fallen into his eyes. Steve laughs, "Hey, I'll neither confirm or deny."
You feel yourself becoming a bit more relaxed with the friendly environment that Steve's presence brings, slowly sinking into the couch rather than sitting as if the Queen of England was going to walk in at any second. That's the vibe you were getting from his house; meticulously clean to the point you almost questioned Steve if someone actually lived here.
When Steve picked you up earlier, you surprised yourself by not feeling those intense fight-or-flight instincts as you watched him run up to your front door.
Aside from accidentally making fun of his music taste on the car ride over, "Of all people Steve, I did not expect you to like Blondie." "What!? They're great!" and you hitting him with the car door as you opened it because he wanted to open it for you, "Your face! I'm so sorry, I didn't even see you there!" "You barely touched me I swear, I just wanted to be nice!" you waited for the usual rush of anxiety to fill you whenever you were near Steve.
You waited for it to appear during the car ride, you waited for it to appear as you walked into his house, and you're waiting for it to appear now.
It didn't.
That doesn't mean that you're not nervous, but it's more of an excited-nervous. The kind of nervous you felt before doing a big presentation in front of your class or performing in the school play. Steve knows how you feel about him and you know how he feels about you, there's no reason to be nervous around him anymore.
Now it's all about what's next. And because you think you can predict the outcome of this study/talk-it-out session, you feel a a flutter of emotions overtake your body, but instead of causing you anxiety, it's causing you excitement.
However.
You absolutely were not going to be the one out of the two of you to address the elephant in the room (aka the reciprocated crush thing). If Steve wanted to talk about it, he would have to start that conversation. Steve was eager to talk about it yesterday, so he should be eager to talk about it right now... Right?
"Listen, I would say we should get to work on the project, but I don't think that's gonna happen today," the boy in question says.
You direct your gaze to your bag thats on the floor and eye your copy of Pride and Prejudice before glancing up to look at Steve, who was already staring at you. He looked so at ease, one elbow leaned against the couch cushion with his fist pressed against his cheek.
He is so pretty.
You turn on the couch to face him and match his pose before saying, "I don't think so either." You didn't realize until this moment how close the two of you were sitting.
Steve says nothing for a moment as he just stares. You note this is the first time in a while that you're not blabbering nonsense at the boy, you usually talk a lot. Steve notices it, too.
"You know, I never took you to be a quiet person," he comments. "I'm usually not," you respond, "I just feel— I don't know, for once I don't feel like talking, I don't feel the need to fill the silence."
"Woah, who knew you could be so poetic." You lightly smack his leg as he teases you. "Oh, shut up, Harrington!" Steve's laughter subsides quickly and he peers down at your hand that's still on his leg. He swallows down the lump in his throat before picking it up, slowly caressing your knuckles with his thumb.
"You make me so nervous, did you know that?" he whispers before looking up at you again. You feel your cheeks heat up even though you know no color is showing on your face. The look that he's giving you is one that you've never seen before, and you've spent too much time of your time staring at him according to Robin.
"I've made the Steve 'the Hair' Harrington nervous? Wait 'till the girls hear about this." You try to lighten the mood a little, but Steve barely cracks a smile, getting a mere tiny lift of the corner of his mouth in response. His thumb never stop caressing your hand.
"I hope that isn't how you see me, at least not now." You shake your head, "Of course not, I'm sorry, not really sure why I pulled that joke right now." Steve shakes his head fondly and wags a finger at you. "You're something else, you're so different. I can never tell what you're thinking." You blink twice. "Uh, is that a bad thing?" you question.
"Absolutely not!" he exclaims. He suddenly lets go of your hand and flops back on the couch, now laying horizontally, with both hands covering his face as he lets out an sigh. "Steve!" you laugh.
"I've never met someone like you before, usually I have girls just throwing themselves at me—before you say it, I know how that sounds just gimme a sec— but you, god, the more I saw you and the more I learned about you and through Robin and your insane excuses, the more hooked I got."
Your heart is beating way too fast that you're positive it can be heard from three houses down. Holy shit, am I getting my own love confession? Steve sits back up straight and his face is one of amused exasperation. "You've made me go crazy, what have you done to me?"
You suck in a gasp. "Well, my mom says the same thing whenever we fight actually," your mouth is spitting out an answer before your brain can fully catch up. You have no idea how to respond to this love confession—oh my god a love confession—that your mouth is just running on autopilot. "Lately, she's been on me about organizing my bookshelf, but like it's my bookshelf in my room, she doesn't have to look at it, and I'm categorizing and cataloguing my books, so of course it's messy, but she wants to pick a fight when I'm actually cleaning for once, so I do-"
Steve lets out a bark of laughter, "Oh Jesus Christ, just shut up."
And all of a sudden, you're being kissed. Passionately. With two hands holding the sides of your face. Your eyes are wide open while Steve's are closed, both your arms are raised slightly not quite knowing what to do with them.
The kiss ends before you can even process that it was happening. The only way you knew it occurred was because of the warmth on your cheeks left behind by Steve's hands and the slight sheen his lips have from your lip gloss.
"Steve," you start and in real time, you see his face flush with a lovely shade of pink, covering his face and creeping down his neck. "I'm sorry! You were just rambling and I didn't know how to help you calm down and I've wanted to do that for a long time but I should've asked you first before-"
It's your turn to cut him off as you lean in and capture his lips into yours. For a second Steve freezes before his mind and body catch up. He lets out a groan before manoeuvring you closer to him, wrapping an arm around your waist and his hand cupping your cheek. One of your hands is gripping his bicep which holy fuck he is so strong and the other is resting with the hair at the nape of his neck.
His lips are soft and warm and you can taste the mint of the gum he had been chewing as you deepened the kiss. You can actually appreciate this kiss, having had some time to properly process it and melt into it. Fuck, he's such a good kisser.
Unfortunately, because the need to breathe starts to affect you more with each passing second, you separate his mouth from yours with a soft sigh. He leans his forehead onto yours, both arms gently holding your waist now. You stay like that for a few seconds, basking in the afterglow of the most intense kiss you've ever had in your life, especially considering it was with Steve.
Once you put just enough space between the two of you so you're able to see his entire face properly, you let out a small giggle, which turns into two, which turns into three, and eventually your whole body is shaking with laughter. Steve is looking at you incredulously as you place your head on his shoulder before he's joining you, you're laugh just being too contagious.
"What!?" Steve exclaims. "Am I that bad at kissing or something?" In between fits of giggles you shake your head. "No, on the contrary, it's because you're an incredible kisser." The full blown laughs have finally ceased to a few chuckles and you pry your head away from Steve's shoulder, only to look at him, feel the bubbles of laughter resurface, and place it right back in the same position.
Steve kisses the top of your head and starts running his fingers down your back, causing goosebumps to appear wherever they trailed. "You'll have to fill me in then, babe." The nickname earns another tiny giggle on your part. "Not everyone has that crazy mind that you do." He can practically feel you rolling your eyes at him.
"It's just crazy to me that the one thing I wished would happen to me this year actually happened. I wasn't worried about grades or whatever, I just wanted this. And look! It happened!" You remove yourself from your hiding place to look at Steve. "Me from three months ago would probably go into cardiac arrest if I told her this happened."
Steve smirks. "So basically, your solid plan of running away from the guy you liked to make sure this," he gestured between the two of you, "happened was a success."
You let out a squawk of indignation. "Hey, I was gonna say something to you eventually!" Steve is making a face that can only be translated as are you serious? before relenting and admitting, "Ok fine, maybe I wasn't. But the thought was there! That counts. Right?"
Steve snorts, "Sure babe, of course it does." You let out a pleased hum before a glaring at him seriously. "Just to make sure, this means we're dating right? Because I don't want to get the wrong idea and then mark this day as our anniversary and then our one month comes up and I want to do something small, but cute, and you're all like confused because we never explicitly said that we were a couple, and then I'm all mortified so yo-"
Needless to say, it wouldn't be the only time Steve would stop your ramblings that night with a kiss. And he planned on doing it a whole lot more.
hello!! been a while... anyways, i've had an idea for a fanfic for a really long time, since covid i think, second quarantine (6 years ago crazy i can't believe it) but i've never written fanfic for ao3 before... so i'm looking for help! a beta?? i think thats what they call people who look over others work especially on ao3... correct me if i'm wrong lmao
anyways, it a wolfstar fic and the main gist of it is that remus starts going to therapy and sirius is his therapist, etc. etc. eventually they fall in love blah blah blah, i'll give more details later
again, i have never written to this extent before, and i just need some help bouncing ideas off of someone and how to format this shit since ive never done it before to this level... soooo if you're interested shoot me a pm!! it is finals season at uni so this will come together very slowly but i want to focus on this over the summer!!
woke up thinking about how connor is going to absolutely devour the line “I already chose you, Hollander” and how hudson is going to destroy the world with his reaction to that line. oh holy god none of us will be okay.
Something about the fact that after the Pevensie’s are pulled out of Narnia three of them don’t live long enough to reach those ages again. That Peter is supposed to be around twenty eight by the end of their reign and after returning to England he only lives until he is twenty two. That despite living multiple lives he never makes it to thirty. That Edmund dies at nineteen and Lucy at seventeen.
That Susan is left behind knowing what her siblings would have looked like for several years after their deaths and then not knowing any longer. That she grows up and has to face life without the people she always expected to be by her side. That even in Aslan’s kingdom the Pevensie’s cannot find true peace because someone is always missing.
That Peter never has the chance to graduate university or become a doctor, that Lucy doesn’t even live to adulthood, that Edmund never gets old enough for people to take him seriously. That Susan lives to be older than Peter ever got to be and then older than all her siblings put together before sixty.
That she has to grow up for all of them and they never get to.
The first time Shane calls Ilya baby, they are half asleep, exhausted limbs heavy they finally have a night together, two actually, a tiny bit of time together to fall asleep in the same bed, wake up together. Shane had missed that the most from the cottage, desperately, the intimacy of a shared bed, of waking up with Ilya on his chest, sprawled out and head heavy, sweat at his hairline. He missed the feeling of Ilya reaching for him first thing in the morning, waking up to his pouted dry lips and sleep heavy voice.
Anyway it’s the middle of the night, or early morning at this point almost, and Shane is fucking exhausted, sore, he’d been checked hard, more than once in his last game and the the long drive to Ilya right after had left his muscles stiff. He is warm, but doesn’t have the full weight of Ilya, just the tangle of his legs, and Shane wants him, but he’s so half or like almost fully asleep he can’t even make himself roll over closer to Ilya yet. Then Ilya moves, but it’s away from Shane, he’s climbing off the bed and Shane frowns, pouts into his pillow as he listens to Ilya plod sleepy heavy footsteps into the bathroom, feet scuffling. He listens to Ilya walking away from him and he misses him sorely, it’s a pathetic lonely thing, a achey pit under his ribs that feels like notimenotimenotime.
He wants him back, here, now, buried under the hours they have together. Ilya isn’t leaving, (he or Shane is always leaving) but not right now. He wakes a little more, just enough to shuffle onto his side sluggishly, into the head Ilya left behind. He listens to Ilya pee, flush, wash his hands and shuffle shuffle back to Shane, back to their bed. Shane wants him so intensely in that moment, the weight of him crawling back into their bed that his whole body thrums with it, aches, deeply. It fuses with a heady joy of knowing Ilya is crawling back into bed with him. His boyfriend, their bed, them. Shaneandilya how it’s been since the first time, a universe between them, the whole word between their mouths, hands, bodies.
Ilyas steps are slow heavy and Shane wants him here now he wants the heat, weight, shoulders of Ilya right against him. He forces, half lidded, his tired eyes to open just so, watches the shape of Ilya as he gets to the edge of the bed.
Shane reaches his hand out, grabby fingers, licks his lips and half whines, simpers, too tired to ask what he wants to explain that he has this cloying aching insane need for Ilya in that moment- to feel him, to know he knows him, to reach for his boy in the middle of the night and have his hand touch Ilyas skin not his sheets, Ilya two hours away. He wants to want him and have him.
Ilya is in the bed with a press of the mattress, all limbs and warm and his Ilya there, humming back to Shane, a nonsense sound and flops himself half on Shane, wriggling against him to knock their limbs into fitting together somehow, too sleepy to make proper work of it.
But Shane, Shane wants to cuddle properly he wants to be pressed together, wants to feel the shifting of Ilyas breathing, wants to be held.
“Come here baby” Shane breaths, the words half formed an kinda mushed together as he properly pulls Ilyas body over him, hand in his hair to fit his face to the curve of his neck, pressed close and warm.
Ilya lets out a soft keening noise and Ilyas arms, strong and firm and warm squeeze around him, collects him up into his chest tighter, they fall asleep in the next few breaths.
(The second time Shane calls him baby, he’s lucky enough to see the blush that pinks across the high of Ilyas face)
The bard, craving knowledge, makes his way to the Mage’s Guild of Enclave, where he spends his days in their vast libraries. Though deeply devoted to his studies, he still makes time for the occasional adventure.
summary: Feelings are out, you're still rambling, and Steve thinks you're wonderful.
A/N: when the world thought i abandoned them, i came back... HORRAY!!!! so this is probably my last instalment to this little series, what a joy it has been to write. i'm really proud of this one and am so excited to see how I'll continue to progress in my writing journey. thank you for all the love the last 3 fics got, you have no idea how much my hear soared when I got a notif from this site. i adore you all. pls lmk if you have any suggestions for future fics!
warnings: sfw, swearing, fluff, making out
You don't think your posture has ever been better than right now, sitting in Steve Harrington's living room, hands firmly clasped and placed in your lap. Your eyes quickly scan the beige colored walls, noting the lack of family pictures. In fact, the decor of the entire living room seemed to be more staged than personal, almost as if wanting to give the illusion that this was indeed a home, but not quite hitting the mark.
Steve walks back in from the kitchen carrying two glasses of water and places them on the table in front of you. As he's about to take a seat beside you, he lets out a shocked gasp before hurrying to the cabinet next to the window, pulling out two coasters.
He chuckles nervously as you eye him contemplatively. "My mom is a real stickler for these," he says after he sits back down, running an anxious hand through his hair. "She'll notice the rings the water make the second she walks through the door."
You let out a hum in acknowledgment, not quite sure how to continue the conversation without making him more tense. You notice his shoulders are sort of hunched in, and he's running a hand through his hair again.
Without thinking, you reach out to grab his wrist, pulling it away from his brown locks. Steve looks at you in surprise, mouth slightly parted.
"You're going to ruin your hair even more and I know for a fact you spent at least half and hour on it this morning," you say, reaching out to fix a piece that has fallen into his eyes. Steve laughs, "Hey, I'll neither confirm or deny."
You feel yourself becoming a bit more relaxed with the friendly environment that Steve's presence brings, slowly sinking into the couch rather than sitting as if the Queen of England was going to walk in at any second. That's the vibe you were getting from his house; meticulously clean to the point you almost questioned Steve if someone actually lived here.
When Steve picked you up earlier, you surprised yourself by not feeling those intense fight-or-flight instincts as you watched him run up to your front door.
Aside from accidentally making fun of his music taste on the car ride over, "Of all people Steve, I did not expect you to like Blondie." "What!? They're great!" and you hitting him with the car door as you opened it because he wanted to open it for you, "Your face! I'm so sorry, I didn't even see you there!" "You barely touched me I swear, I just wanted to be nice!" you waited for the usual rush of anxiety to fill you whenever you were near Steve.
You waited for it to appear during the car ride, you waited for it to appear as you walked into his house, and you're waiting for it to appear now.
It didn't.
That doesn't mean that you're not nervous, but it's more of an excited-nervous. The kind of nervous you felt before doing a big presentation in front of your class or performing in the school play. Steve knows how you feel about him and you know how he feels about you, there's no reason to be nervous around him anymore.
Now it's all about what's next. And because you think you can predict the outcome of this study/talk-it-out session, you feel a a flutter of emotions overtake your body, but instead of causing you anxiety, it's causing you excitement.
However.
You absolutely were not going to be the one out of the two of you to address the elephant in the room (aka the reciprocated crush thing). If Steve wanted to talk about it, he would have to start that conversation. Steve was eager to talk about it yesterday, so he should be eager to talk about it right now... Right?
"Listen, I would say we should get to work on the project, but I don't think that's gonna happen today," the boy in question says.
You direct your gaze to your bag thats on the floor and eye your copy of Pride and Prejudice before glancing up to look at Steve, who was already staring at you. He looked so at ease, one elbow leaned against the couch cushion with his fist pressed against his cheek.
He is so pretty.
You turn on the couch to face him and match his pose before saying, "I don't think so either." You didn't realize until this moment how close the two of you were sitting.
Steve says nothing for a moment as he just stares. You note this is the first time in a while that you're not blabbering nonsense at the boy, you usually talk a lot. Steve notices it, too.
"You know, I never took you to be a quiet person," he comments. "I'm usually not," you respond, "I just feel— I don't know, for once I don't feel like talking, I don't feel the need to fill the silence."
"Woah, who knew you could be so poetic." You lightly smack his leg as he teases you. "Oh, shut up, Harrington!" Steve's laughter subsides quickly and he peers down at your hand that's still on his leg. He swallows down the lump in his throat before picking it up, slowly caressing your knuckles with his thumb.
"You make me so nervous, did you know that?" he whispers before looking up at you again. You feel your cheeks heat up even though you know no color is showing on your face. The look that he's giving you is one that you've never seen before, and you've spent too much time of your time staring at him according to Robin.
"I've made the Steve 'the Hair' Harrington nervous? Wait 'till the girls hear about this." You try to lighten the mood a little, but Steve barely cracks a smile, getting a mere tiny lift of the corner of his mouth in response. His thumb never stop caressing your hand.
"I hope that isn't how you see me, at least not now." You shake your head, "Of course not, I'm sorry, not really sure why I pulled that joke right now." Steve shakes his head fondly and wags a finger at you. "You're something else, you're so different. I can never tell what you're thinking." You blink twice. "Uh, is that a bad thing?" you question.
"Absolutely not!" he exclaims. He suddenly lets go of your hand and flops back on the couch, now laying horizontally, with both hands covering his face as he lets out an sigh. "Steve!" you laugh.
"I've never met someone like you before, usually I have girls just throwing themselves at me—before you say it, I know how that sounds just gimme a sec— but you, god, the more I saw you and the more I learned about you and through Robin and your insane excuses, the more hooked I got."
Your heart is beating way too fast that you're positive it can be heard from three houses down. Holy shit, am I getting my own love confession? Steve sits back up straight and his face is one of amused exasperation. "You've made me go crazy, what have you done to me?"
You suck in a gasp. "Well, my mom says the same thing whenever we fight actually," your mouth is spitting out an answer before your brain can fully catch up. You have no idea how to respond to this love confession—oh my god a love confession—that your mouth is just running on autopilot. "Lately, she's been on me about organizing my bookshelf, but like it's my bookshelf in my room, she doesn't have to look at it, and I'm categorizing and cataloguing my books, so of course it's messy, but she wants to pick a fight when I'm actually cleaning for once, so I do-"
Steve lets out a bark of laughter, "Oh Jesus Christ, just shut up."
And all of a sudden, you're being kissed. Passionately. With two hands holding the sides of your face. Your eyes are wide open while Steve's are closed, both your arms are raised slightly not quite knowing what to do with them.
The kiss ends before you can even process that it was happening. The only way you knew it occurred was because of the warmth on your cheeks left behind by Steve's hands and the slight sheen his lips have from your lip gloss.
"Steve," you start and in real time, you see his face flush with a lovely shade of pink, covering his face and creeping down his neck. "I'm sorry! You were just rambling and I didn't know how to help you calm down and I've wanted to do that for a long time but I should've asked you first before-"
It's your turn to cut him off as you lean in and capture his lips into yours. For a second Steve freezes before his mind and body catch up. He lets out a groan before manoeuvring you closer to him, wrapping an arm around your waist and his hand cupping your cheek. One of your hands is gripping his bicep which holy fuck he is so strong and the other is resting with the hair at the nape of his neck.
His lips are soft and warm and you can taste the mint of the gum he had been chewing as you deepened the kiss. You can actually appreciate this kiss, having had some time to properly process it and melt into it. Fuck, he's such a good kisser.
Unfortunately, because the need to breathe starts to affect you more with each passing second, you separate his mouth from yours with a soft sigh. He leans his forehead onto yours, both arms gently holding your waist now. You stay like that for a few seconds, basking in the afterglow of the most intense kiss you've ever had in your life, especially considering it was with Steve.
Once you put just enough space between the two of you so you're able to see his entire face properly, you let out a small giggle, which turns into two, which turns into three, and eventually your whole body is shaking with laughter. Steve is looking at you incredulously as you place your head on his shoulder before he's joining you, you're laugh just being too contagious.
"What!?" Steve exclaims. "Am I that bad at kissing or something?" In between fits of giggles you shake your head. "No, on the contrary, it's because you're an incredible kisser." The full blown laughs have finally ceased to a few chuckles and you pry your head away from Steve's shoulder, only to look at him, feel the bubbles of laughter resurface, and place it right back in the same position.
Steve kisses the top of your head and starts running his fingers down your back, causing goosebumps to appear wherever they trailed. "You'll have to fill me in then, babe." The nickname earns another tiny giggle on your part. "Not everyone has that crazy mind that you do." He can practically feel you rolling your eyes at him.
"It's just crazy to me that the one thing I wished would happen to me this year actually happened. I wasn't worried about grades or whatever, I just wanted this. And look! It happened!" You remove yourself from your hiding place to look at Steve. "Me from three months ago would probably go into cardiac arrest if I told her this happened."
Steve smirks. "So basically, your solid plan of running away from the guy you liked to make sure this," he gestured between the two of you, "happened was a success."
You let out a squawk of indignation. "Hey, I was gonna say something to you eventually!" Steve is making a face that can only be translated as are you serious? before relenting and admitting, "Ok fine, maybe I wasn't. But the thought was there! That counts. Right?"
Steve snorts, "Sure babe, of course it does." You let out a pleased hum before a glaring at him seriously. "Just to make sure, this means we're dating right? Because I don't want to get the wrong idea and then mark this day as our anniversary and then our one month comes up and I want to do something small, but cute, and you're all like confused because we never explicitly said that we were a couple, and then I'm all mortified so yo-"
Needless to say, it wouldn't be the only time Steve would stop your ramblings that night with a kiss. And he planned on doing it a whole lot more.
Rafe x Girl next door type/Sweet!Pouge Reader: He sees her at a party and he sets his eyes on her, wanting to hook up with her for the night and ditch her the next day. He gets surprised thought when he actually talks to her, how kind, sweet and genuine she is # and to also find out that she is the relationship girlfriend type that would never have sex with someone random # but does not end it right there with him then trying to find someone else for the night but actually find himself drawn to her and wanting to take care of her/protect her and offers to drive her home (and whatever else you can think of, just a suggestion)
lamy's notes: i hope you like it, angel!
the party is in full swing, neon lights flickering against the walls, bodies packed tight with the heady scent of sweat and liquor thick in the air. rafe cameron leans against the kitchen counter, a red solo cup dangling from his fingers, half-full of something he’d stopped tasting an hour ago. his sharp blue eyes scan the crowd, predatory, practiced, already picking out his next conquest.
then he sees you.
it isn’t like the other girls he usually finds himself entangled with. no plunging neckline, no practiced sultry gaze or desperate attempt to get his attention. you’re different—sweet-looking, soft around the edges, the kind of girl who smiles at people like she means it. the kind of girl who doesn’t belong here.
and fuck, does that make him want you more.
you’re laughing, head tilted back just slightly, talking to a couple of your friends who don’t seem nearly as enthralled by you as they should be. you aren’t drinking, he notices. just standing there with some soda in your hand, cheeks flushed but not from alcohol. from joy. genuine, untainted joy.
rafe smirks. this will be easy. the sweet ones always melt in his hands, naive enough to believe whatever story he spins, desperate for that kind of attention from someone like him. he pushes off the counter and makes his way toward you, predatory confidence in every step.
“didn’t peg you as the party type,” he murmurs, sliding in beside you. your head turns, and when those warm, wide eyes meet his, something in his stomach twists.
you smile. actually smile at him. no coyness, no pretense. just a simple, friendly, fucking devastating smile. “yeah, i guess i’m not,” you admit, a little sheepish. “but my friends wanted to come, so here i am.”
rafe arches a brow. “and you’re not drinking?”
you shake your head. “not really my thing.”
his usual lines, the easy teases and flirtations, catch in his throat. there’s nothing to latch onto here, no feigned innocence waiting to be shattered. just…you. real. unaffected. completely unlike anyone else in this house.
“not your thing, huh?” he echoes, tilting his head. “so what is?”
you give a small shrug, your fingers curling around your soda cup, you begin to ramble about random things. “i don’t know. movie nights, bonfires on the beach, making pancakes at midnight just because. you know, wholesome stuff.”
wholesome.
jesus christ.
rafe hasn’t felt this off-kilter in years. he came here tonight looking for a quick fuck, someone to drag upstairs and forget about the next morning. and yet, here he is, utterly hooked on you talking about making pancakes at midnight.
“you’re not from around here, are you?”
you laugh, light and warm. “born and raised.”
“huh.” he studies you, trying to pinpoint exactly what makes you so different. maybe it’s the way you look at him, not like he’s some trophy to be won or some cautionary tale to be avoided, but just…like a person.
he doesn’t know what to do with that.
“so,” he tries again, leaning in slightly. “if you’re not into parties, what’s keeping you here?”
you tilt your head, studying him right back. “good company, i guess.”
rafe isn’t used to being caught off guard. isn’t used to having the script flipped on him like this. but instead of pissing him off, it just makes him more intrigued.
for a split second, he thinks about cutting his losses, about finding someone else who’d be easier, who wouldn’t make his chest feel tight in a way that has nothing to do with lust. but the thought of walking away from you right now?
doesn’t sit right.
“let me drive you home,” the words are out before he even realizes he’s said them.
your brows lift slightly, surprised but not suspicious. “you sure? i wouldn’t want to take you away from the party.”
he smirks. “believe me, sweetheart, nothing here’s worth sticking around for.”
you hesitate for a moment, then nod. “alright. that’d be nice.”
rafe has never been interested in nice before. nice doesn’t get you anywhere. nice is weak. but as you walk beside him out of the house, trusting him in a way he knows he hasn’t earned, he thinks—
