Summary: A messy break-up, scandalous acts and more heartbreak. Things for you and Oscar go south.
Warnings: fineassLeti! 😤, f e e l s, mentions of being under the influence, angsty ending 👀
word count: 2.3K
a/n: Yes, I added Leti as warning cause I know we all hate that ho3! 😆 I am slowly working through the requests, thank u for bearing with me. Per usual: please follow my blog, heart/comment/reblog my content and turn on the notifs for new works alerts!
anonymously requested!
(gif belongs to @merakiaes ✨ miss u!)
“And all I do is stick around. And for what? To be played countless times!” The tears that once clouded your vision now spill over your bottom lids and down your cheeks.
Oscar keeps his lips pressed together tightly. He had no words, he never usually does.
You scoff and wipe your face. With one last look you shake your head, “I really thought you were changing. Once a gangster, always a gangster.”
“That’s right. So go. You ain’t cut out for this.” He says to you. You try your best to keep yourself composed but find it too hard when the safest place has always been in between his arms.
summary: you were in the middle of a case when you ended up getting sick, and dean just couldn’t leave you to deal with it yourself
genre: fluff word count: 2.8k
content: fem!reader, established relationship, reader is sick, dean teasing/making jokes to make reader feel better
a/n: writing this while i’m currently feeling very under the weather. kind of suffering with a cold which is accompanied by a very useless cough. so, i decided to write a little dean fic where he takes care of sick reader :)
It all started with what you thought was a sore throat from allergies.
Followed by a few sneezes and a stuffy nose from what you assumed was from flowers in the last place you went to talk to victims on this case.
But, the symptoms never went away.
As you always did, you tried to power through. The case continuing, more people to question, more time needed to pretend to be FBI agents to find out information.
The day started terribly. You woke up, scratchy throat, nose hurting, body aching. You had no idea that you’d overslept, Dean and Sam having gotten ready already.
It’s only when you heard the motel door close that you peeked an eye open to see Dean sitting at the table, flipping through some police report files. He looked up when he heard you move to sit up.
“Hey, sleepy head,” he smiled, focusing on you. “How’s your throat? Need any more of that allergy medicine?”
You rubbed your eyes tiredly, going to speak, when instead you felt the pain in your throat. Causing you to cough suddenly, groaning after.
Dean’s brow furrowed as he got up to walk over to the bed, “you okay, sweetheart?” He worried.
“Think m’sick,” you sniffled, looking at him.
Instinctively, Dean held the back of his hand against your forehead, trying to get a feel for if you had a fever or if this was just a regular illness.
“You’re burning up,” he stated.
You shuffled, sitting with your legs hanging off of the bed. Your FBI outfit was folded at the end of the bed, waiting to be put on. You needed to get through today, get the last questions done before a hunt could begin.
“Oh, no, no, no,” Dean shook his head. “Don’t even think about it.”
“But we’ve got a case—“
“Not if you have a fever.”
It wasn’t unexpected. He was always protective, always worrying about you. The last time you got sick, he made sure you stayed in bed as much as possible, got all the rest you needed. This time was sure to be no different.
The only problem was this ongoing case.
“We’ve gotta get this family talked to though,” you stood up, moving around Dean to get your shirt and pants. “Before anyone else gets hurt.”
He watched you pick up your clothes, almost immediately put them back down, just as you went to sneeze. Your eyes watery right after, sniffling before going to the bathroom to grab a tissue.
Dean appeared in the doorway, “you’re not coming.”
“Yes I am,” you argued.
“Wasn’t asking,” he gave you a serious look.
“Dean.”
“You can’t question people like this,” his voice softened. “You gotta rest, you aren’t strong enough to be dealing with monsters.”
You sighed, reluctantly giving in. He was right. You couldn’t walk into someone’s home like this, wouldn’t be prepared if you had to suddenly fight a demon or spirit. It wouldn’t be a smart move.
“Come on, let’s get you back in bed, hm?” He reached out to take your hand.
It took a moment, but you nodded, holding onto his hand gently as he pulled you in the direction of the bed. He held the blankets back, watching as you sat in bed, covering your legs right after.
That’s the moment Sam walked back inside, seeing you in bed, Dean standing next to you. Confusion on his face.
“She’s sick,” Dean answered before he could ask.
“Sick sick, or?” Sam asked, needing to know how bad it was.
“Fever,” he clarified. “She’s gonna stay here, in bed. Doctor’s orders.”
You chuckled, glancing up at Dean, “doctor’s orders?”
Dean looked at you, folding his arms as if it should have been obvious. He looked to Sam too, who just shook his head.
“Yea, doctor’s orders,” he shrugged. “Me, I’m the doctor—“
“Yea I got that.”
It was silent for a moment, Sam letting Dean know he’d wait out at the car. You sniffled quietly as Dean sighed, not wanting to leave you here alone.
“Just go, baby, you’ve got a case to figure out,” you smiled. “I’ll be fine.”
“Sure?” He leaned down, brushing your hair back from your face. Feeling how hot you were again. “I can stay, take care of you.”
You reassured him, “it’s okay, go.”
He nodded, heading towards the door. His eyes met yours one more time before he left, leaving the motel room to the sound of the AC unit buzzing, tap in the bathroom dripping. It was almost silent. But it had to be done…
Although, Dean didn’t like it.
The drive in Baby was quiet. He didn’t speak, didn’t talk over plans with his brother. Sam was almost too nervous to speak, knowing he must be worrying about you.
They pulled up outside of the victims house. Not turning the engine off, hands still on the wheel as he looked ahead.
“Go back to the motel, Dean,” Sam snapped him out of it.
He looked at Sam, “what?”
“You’re too distracted, just go back, check on her,” Sam unbuckled his belt. “I’ve got this one.”
For once, Dean didn’t argue. Let Sam get out of the car, watching as he went to the house. A minute later, Dean was turning the car around, driving back the way he came.
Instead of going straight back to the motel, he stopped off at a small store down the street. Hoping to find some medicine and other supplies you could use while being unwell.
Walking inside, suit still on, tie around his neck, perhaps looking a little too dressed up to be in this particular location. It wasn’t his fault he was meant to be a fake FBI agent today.
Finding the aisle he wanted, he picked up painkillers and something to bring your temperature down. He found a couple of boxes of chocolates next, hoping that might lift your spirits, along with a bottle of water to keep you hydrated.
The only thing missing was a tissue box. He couldn’t seem to find what he wanted, only stumbling upon a nine pack of small tissue packets. He picked them up, shrugging, thinking you’d like them anyways.
Dean quickly checked out, paid for all of the items, and finally he could get back to you at the motel.
He quickly got back, parked his Impala, grabbed everything he needed, then he walked to the room, quietly unlocking the door.
Once he got the door closed behind him, he saw you’d laid back down, cheek resting on the pillow as you seemed to be sleeping. He smiled, glad you were managing to get some extra sleep.
He took his bag of items to the table, unpacking the pills, tissues and chocolates. The rustling is what pulled you from the light slumber you were in. Wondering what the noise was, and who on earth was in your room.
As you blinked your eyes open, everything seemed blurry. Maybe the effect of your fever being worse than you thought it was.
“Dean?” You mumbled.
He span around, “yea, hey, sweetheart it’s me,” he whispered, walking over to the bed.
He crouched down, getting to your level to get a look at you. The first thing he saw was your hair sticking to your forehead and cheek, caused by sweat. He frowned.
“Think you can sit?” He asked. “Got you some meds, might help get your fever down.”
“But— the case?” You ran your hands over your face. “Where’s Sam? Did you question the family?”
“Shh, shh, don’t worry about it for now, alright?”
You closed your eyes again, nodding. Dean stood, bringing the box of pills with the water over to the nightstand. You felt his hand on your shoulder next, squeezing softly.
“Just take these for me, then you can lay back down.”
Taking a breath, you let Dean help you to sit up. He sat down on the edge of the bed next to you, waiting to see you open your eyes. But when you did, you were confused.
“Why do you have two ties on?” You questioned.
Dean held onto his tie, “this?” You nodded. “I’m only wearing one.”
“Oh.”
He reached for the water, taking the cap off for you. He handed you the bottle, worrying more but letting you hold it as he got two pills out that you could take. You easily took them with no problems, sipping some extra water after.
Dean took the water from you, placing it down. Then he really looked at you, tilting your head towards him.
“How’re you feeling other than the fever?”
You thought for a moment, “feel a little out of breath.”
“Bad?” Dean worried again.
“Just the usual I get when I’m sick.”
He nodded, “sure it’s not me taking your breath away?” He smirked.
You shook your head, knocking his arm at him making jokes when you’re clearly not feeling well. He just smiled, watching as you laughed quietly. Soon followed by a sneeze.
“Oh, I got some tissues,” he jumped up, rushing to grab them from the table.
Assuming they’d be the normal kind of tissues, you expected a box, maybe a few normal tissue packets But no. He walked over, holding out a pack of animal tissues.
Each packet had a cartoon animal on it. Some were cats, others with bears. It was very adorable. More like something a parent would buy for a child with a similar sickness to what you were dealing with at this very moment.
“Did you get these from the kids section?” You laughed, followed by a cough.
Dean scratched the back of his neck, “it’s all I could find,” he explained. “But I know you love cute animals so…”
You pulled a tissue from one of the packets, quietly blowing your nose to try and get rid of some of the congestion. The effects annoying, giving you a headache along with teary eyes.
“Thank you for these, I’ll make sure to take more pills while you’re gone if I need to.”
“While I’m gone?” Dean let out a low laugh. “I’m not going anywhere.”
You glanced out of the motel window, seeing the Impala, “you’re meant to be with Sam,” You remind him. “Plus, car’s here, how’s he gonna get back.”
Dean shrugged as if it was the least of his worries. His mind was fully focused on you, making sure you were cared for. He’d do all it took to make you feel a little less shitty while being sick.
“I’m sure he can figure it out.”
Normally, you would’ve argued back at that. Told him that he needed to go back to Sam, give him some help with asking questions and trying to find answers. But you were exhausted, short of breath, and didn’t have the energy for it.
Dean moved back to the table again, this time returning with two boxes in his hands. He sat down on the empty side of the bed next to you, placing the two boxes on your lap so you could see easily enough.
The second you looked down, your vision began to spin, you squeezed your eyes shut, “Dean—“ you reached out for him, feeling him grab your hand.
“What is it?” He leaned towards you.
“Dizzy.”
He let go of your hand, only to move the chocolates out of the way. You felt his hands on your shoulders, pulling you to slowly lay down with your head in his lap. Usually this helped with dizziness, and he hoped it’d be even better that he’s here with you.
“Deep breath,” Dean quietly instructed. He watched as your chest rose up. “That’s it… and back out— there you go, good girl.”
You peeked one eye open, looking at Dean above you. He brushed your hair back, not noticing the way you were looking at him.
“Did you just—“
His eyebrows raised, “did I just what?”
“You know what.”
“No.. no I don’t think I do,” you could hear the smirk in his voice.
He stared down at you, keeping the eye contact once you finally opened both of your eyes. The room wasn’t spinning anymore, Dean looked like himself, nothing seemed blurry. Maybe you did just need to stay lying down.
“Feel better?”
You nodded, “not dizzy anymore,” you shuffled yourself further into his lap, your head resting on his thigh.
“Comfortable?” Dean asked.
“Mhm,” you reached back, bunching your hair up to get it away from your face. “Too hot now.”
He had that look again, “damn right you are.”
Your eyes rolled, letting out a soft chuckle. Which again, turned into you coughing. It’s as if the breath caught in your throat, making it all scratchy and irritable. It was a pain, and you hated it.
“Seriously, I don’t think I’ve sweat this much since…” you hesitated. “That case in Texas a few months ago.”
Dean reached for the hem of your shirt, starting to lift it up. He felt for your bra, knowing you still had that on, which gave him the green light to tug your top up and over your head. You lifted your arms, allowing it to come off smoothly. He threw it to the bottom of the bed somewhere.
“How’s that?”
“Better,” you smiled.
Thinking you’d settle like that, you felt Dean shuffling slightly. Trying to reach his hand into the pocket of his suit pants. You had no clue what he was doing. Eventually, he pulled out one of your hair ties.
“Why do you have that?” You asked as he began gathering up your hair in his palm.
Silently, he began slipping the hair tie around your messy hair. Twisting it a few times until it created a loose pony tail. He nodded, happy with his work.
“In case you ever forget one,” he clarified.
Your brow furrowed, “you just carry one on you?”
He thought that was obvious, nodding anyway, “never know when you might need it,” Dean tightened the band, but you didn’t miss the way his hand lingered.
“Would you stop?” You laugh. Too sick to think about the words that left your mouth. “I’m sick, Dean, stop being a freak.”
“Beg your pardon?” He thought that was the most unexpected thing you’d ever said. He continued teasing nevertheless. “Just trying to take care of my girl.”
You moved to lay on your side, practically burying your face against Dean’s belly. His hand rested on the back of your head, stroking over the top of your hair lightly.
“I didn’t know taking care of me included— you know,” your voice was muffled.
“Well… would that make you feel better?”
You glared up at him this time. “Okay, point taken,” he raised his hands in defence. “Anything you need though, say the word, I’m right here.”
As annoying as Dean could be, you knew he was just trying to make you feel better, cheer you up with a little teasing. That was your Dean. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.
You cuddled up to him, your arms wrapping around his waist. He held you as much as he could with this positioning, just making sure you were comfortable against him enough to get some rest.
“Can we get burgers later?” You mumbled.
“From that diner we drove past?”
You hum in answer, “course we can, Sweetheart,” Dean cautiously shuffled, trying to lay down with you. “This okay?”
You moved slightly, resting with your head on his chest more than his belly. His arm was around your shoulders and he leaned down to press a feather light kiss to your forehead.
“Perfect,” you sniffled again, Dean already reaching to grab you another tissue. “Thank you, baby.”
He knew you were tired, could hear the way your breathing seemed like more effort than normal caused by your blocked nose. He was glad he talked you out of the case today, glad he came back to take better care of you.
All he wanted now, was to get you to sleep. Which, turned out to be easier than expected. You were comfortable, not as hot as earlier, surrounded by Dean, who always made you feel comforted enough to fall asleep wherever you were.
Your eyes were closed as you began to breathe through your mouth. Easier that way than through your nose. He had tissues close by at the chance you’d want more.
“When is Sam coming back?” You ask sleepily.
“Not for a while,” Dean whispered against your hair. “Go to sleep, you need it.”
Instead of doing so right away, you looked up at Dean. See he’s already looking down at you, and you smile. A sick, kind of smile where you look exhausted but somehow still beautiful in every sense of the word to him.
“Thank you for coming back,” you curl your hand into his shirt, holding onto it. “I love you, Dean.”
He kissed your cheek, waiting until you closed your eyes again to speak, “I love you too, sweetheart,” he placed his hand over yours. “Rest up.”
You were out like a light in seconds. Dean smiled to himself, happy to be here, happy you could at least get to sleep. Times like this, the case could mean nothing to him. All he cared about was making sure you got better.
taglist: @sturnspup @icpsammy @milkyhrtss | if you would like to join my supernatural taglist, please comment here or see this post
Summary: If it all fell apart—if you forgot who you were—would you love him again? Would the bond guide you back? Azriel doesn't know if that uncertainty is one he can bear.
Word count: 5k
Warnings: Angst, pining
a/n: Omg guysss it's been months but here it is!!! I'm so happy and excited to share this chapter ❤️ Things are slowly coming to a close with this story, but don't you fret because there are still some big plans 👀 The POV bops around a little in the chapter because I just want to capture a lot. Well, enjoy!! Thank you for waiting for me :)
Series Masterlist (all parts ♡)
~~
Nesta Archeron was glaring at you from the other side of the room. The icy stare was a stark contrast to the warm, jubilant nature of those around you, and you found yourself continuously edging into Azriel’s side to avoid the harshness. If the Shadowsinger noticed your growing distress—which you were sure he did—he didn’t make it known. He only allowed you to get closer, subtly shifting his arm to accommodate your movement.
Feyre was speaking on the other side of you, retelling a light-hearted story about the creation of her art studio. You had been part of the construction and she was more than happy to share that information with you.
Meeting her had been immeasurably easier than meeting Nesta.
“I’m so happy you’ve been feeling well enough to do this,” Feyre smiled, her hand on your arm starling you out of your game of avoidance. “I’ve missed seeing you. I know we all have. Elain was furious that she couldn't make it. She got caught up on the outskirts of the continent with Lucien.”
You took a calming breath in through your nose and shifted your gaze away from the chair Nesta was occupying. “Lucien?”
Azirel’s low tone rumbled at your shoulder. “Elain’s mate. He has an interesting story. I’ll tell you more about it later.”
And you trusted that he would.
Since the night the two of you shared, Azriel had become an open book. He had spent half of that night making you privy to the story you shared—how you met, how the bond snapped, and his subsequent idiocy of keeping it from you while you knew the entire time. That point had sent you into a fit of laughter because obviously you would have known. Your magic revolved around parsing out lies and secrets.
Coming to terms with that truth also helped you better understand the bond itself.
Azriel had explained that the cauldron found mates in equals, pairing the souls of those that matched. It had been confusing for you to make a connection between Azriel and yourself. He was an Illyrian with forceful wings and so much power that it needed to be contained in the azure siphons lining his body.
But then, on a particularly quiet night, Azriel had shared his role in Rhysand’s court. His words had been cloaked in reproach as if sharing that piece of him would send you running. You had listened with rapt attention and pieced together the truth of your bond.
Azriel was the spymaster, and you were the truthteller.
It also helped—presumably—that Azriel had gotten into the habit of telling you how much he loved you. Regularly.
He never expected anything following his declarations and never even gave you enough time to think of a response, but he said the words so openly. Handing you breakfast, taking a walk along the Sidra, in between stories from your life; Azriel always said I love you as if he didn’t mean to, like he was making up for lost time.
You hadn’t said it back yet.
Maybe you’d thought it.
“There’s also a book club that I know has been eagerly waiting for your return—”
“So you’ve really lost your memory?” Nesta’s biting tone cut her sister off. You snapped your gaze over to the piercing eyes you’d been avoiding.
“Um—”
“Rather convenient, how cuddled up you are with the spymaster when the rest of us haven’t even seen you. What progression does that show?”
“Nes,” Cassian chided from beside her.
Something heavy made your chest hurt—embarrassment, you parsed out. You leaned away from the warm chest you found comfort in and glanced at Cassian’s exasperated expression as he stared at his mate.
“What? You all have been hiding her away with your typical ploy of protecting her. Why hasn’t she been training with the Valkyries? Who gets to decide when she’s let out for a walk? I presume Rhysand is one of her handlers? I’d ask him but he refuses to speak to me about it and doesn’t show his face unless absolutely necessary.”
“That’s enough,” Azriel cut through. You’d put about an inch of space between the two of you and the missing contact was glaringly apparent.
“Is it? You’re making her weak.”
“Nesta, we weren’t here the first time this happened. We have no idea what she needs,” Feyre argued, squaring her shoulders towards her sister.
Nesta only scoffed. “Well, clearly, she needs something else because she still has no memory.”
“I don’t know what’s going on with you right now, but cool it,” Cassian commanded.
Sharp features ran over your form, analyzing your every move as the conflict continued. You felt exposed, belittled under Nesta’s gaze, and the fae only sharpened the lines of her eyes the more you squirmed. Azriel closed the space between you again, covering your knee with his hand, and Nesta’s jaw worked at the movement.
You wanted to say something, maybe defend yourself, but you were afraid to open your mouth and be ridiculed. Everyone had said you were friends with Nesta. They had described her prickly personality but said you had been fast friends. They said she had been asking about you.
You breathed through your nose and pressed your lips together.
“She’s gotten memories back, Nesta. We were told it’s a slow process,” Feyre reasoned, attempting to lower the tone of the room as Azriel’s shadows became restless.
“Right. And they all happen to be memories of the precious Inner Circle. Another agenda I’m sure was purposeful.”
That was true. You’d gotten back a handful of memories now, all with either Azriel, Cassian, Rhys, or Mor involved, but those were the only people you knew. And they were all distant memories made centuries ago. You had no new context and had started to assume that this process would be chronological. Sort of.
“We are introducing things slowly,” Azriel all but gritted out, his presence large and looming at your back. “Even the process of getting those few memories hasn’t been pleasant. Based on what we understood we thought it would be better if—”
“It’s always what you think. She isn’t yours, Azriel,” Nesta fought, gripping the arms of her chair in a punishing hold.
“Careful, Nesta—”
“You’re scared.” Your voice was sure but quiet as it silenced the room. You stared at Nesta, brows furrowed, and watched the tells of her fear emanate from her. “Why are you scared?”
Nesta looked jarred, affronted. She glowered at you. “I am not scared.”
“I can see it. I don’t understand it, but I can see it.” You met her eyes and something looked different about them—something searching. “Is it about me?”
The room tensed, air becoming still.
Nesta stood abruptly. You straightened your back and were halfway up to follow her, a confusing urge leading you to comfort the woman who obviously did not like you, when pain took your breath away. You faltered, feet failing as you shot them out to balance your wavering posture. You fell forward instead, the ground a harsh pain against your knees.
Azriel
Azriel was so quick to find your side, any vitriol lingering in the room no longer his concern. He pulled you against him and slotted your head in his neck as a whine left your lips.
“What’s wrong with her?” Nesta asked, harshness tinged with underlying urgency.
He had known she was scared—everyone knew that—but you voicing it had made it real, and Nesta was not one to put that out in the open. In another life, just a few months difference, you would have confronted her privately. But you didn’t know.
“She’s remembering,” Azriel muttered, holding you closer as your body became dead weight against his. This part always sent terror shooting through him, but he was getting better at containing it. You needed him to be calm.
“Does she always collapse? You didn’t think to—”
“Nesta,” Feyre interrupted, placing a gentle hand on her sister’s arm. The High Lady shook her head with a wince.
Azriel watched the interaction with lidded eyes, his hands pressed to your head and back. He knew you would come to within a few minutes. Sometimes it took longer and you were far more dazed then, but he’d be willing to sit here for as long as you needed.
“I’ll get the compress,” Cassian declared, kicking up from his chair with a parting hand on Nesta’s shoulder. “Take it easy. It can be difficult when she wakes up.”
Nesta crossed her arms and shifted her weight between her feet as Azriel repositioned you on the ground. He looked down at your face, the way your eyes moved behind the lids, and then tucked you back into his chest. He reminded himself that this was something good; last time you remembered the first kiss you had had with him.
A turn of silence overcame the sitting room and Feyre excused herself to check up on Nyx. Nesta stayed, using Cassian’s return as her weak excuse.
“How long—”
“She’s okay, Nesta,” Azriel said, voice low. “I know it doesn’t seem like it, but she’s okay. You need to give her time.”
Nesta’s brow furrowed and she bit the side of her cheek. “You all have made her weak. She doesn’t need to be coddled.”
“She does. For now. That doesn’t make her weak—to need people.”
Azriel moved your hair off your forehead as a harsh breath left your nose. You didn’t wake yet.
“She would hate it—being treated like glass.”
“I know,” Azriel admitted. “She hates it now. But, as Feyre said, you weren’t there before. This is nothing compared to how we were then.”
“I haven’t seen her in months.” Nesta’s voice was smaller as she dropped to the ground beside Azriel. “She looked so… timid when she came in. She was never like that.”
Azriel let out a sigh and held Nesta’s gaze. “I know how this feels, but you can’t… you can’t blame her for this. You can’t punish her, Nesta. She needs you, too.”
“She hasn’t needed me this entire time, obviously. That was decided rather quickly.”
Azriel sighed again, but before he could help his sister sort out the myriad of emotions he knew she was feeling, you groaned and the sound rattled against his skin. The Shadowsinger pulled you away from his body but kept his arms holding you up. Your lashes slowly fluttered before you pressed your palm into your eye socket.
“Gods, ow,” you complained. “I hate that part.”
Azriel offered you a melancholy laugh and brushed his lips along your forehead—always stolen touches with him. “I’m sorry, my love.” He paused, sending a sidelong glance toward Nesta. The younger fae was frozen in place. “Can I get you anything?”
“The cold compress, maybe?”
“Cass is already on it. He’ll be back soon.” Another pause as you gathered your bearings. Azriel rubbed soothing circles into any skin he could reach. “Share now or later?”
The question was routine now. Some memories were easy for you to share, spouting them off as soon as you woke up like in the case of the first kiss you had learned about three days ago. Others hurt as if you were reliving them in the moment, like when Rhys was taken under the mountain or when you remembered the pain of Day Court.
So Azriel would wait, and then he would ask.
And if he needed to hold you as you cried afterward, he would do that, too.
Your tongue darted out to wet your drying lips and then your expression pinched. You sat up fully to examine the room, still disoriented if Azriel could tell anything by the rapid way your eyes moved, but you were looking for something—or someone, maybe.
When you looked over your shoulder and found Nesta’s frozen form, recognition shone in your hazy eyes.
“I remembered you,” you revealed. You twisted from Azriel’s grip to sit on the floor before her. “We were talking. Or, I was talking and you were… angry at me for something. We were in a terribly awful apartment. I think it was yours.” Your brows came together as you searched through the memory. You looked back up. “You were afraid then too.”
Azriel didn’t have a moment to protest before Nesta had her arms thrown around your shoulders, her grip on your sweater visibly unshakeable. You had to stabilize a hand behind you to keep upright, and even though Azriel knew your head throbbed after getting a memory back, you didn’t make a sound.
“You’re going to be fine,” Nesta angrily demanded, sounding as if she were placing a curse. “You are stronger than this.”
A minute ticked by, and then another. Azriel sat idly by as Nesta held you against her and you held her back without as much context, but just as tightly.
“Well,” Cassian re-entered the sitting room, cold compress held loosely in his hand. “This seems to be going better.”
~~~
A few days after meeting, and somewhat understanding, Nesta Archeron, you found yourself on a walk with Azriel following the resurfacing of a particularly painful memory. It was something from the war—Azriel was hurt, barely alive, and you were helpless and miles away from him. The memory was mostly just remnants of pain and fear, and it had taken Azriel fifteen minutes to calm you down after.
But that was fine—it was good. Because for every painful memory came several good ones, and those memories made it worth it. You almost felt lucky to experience many of them for the first time again.
“Can I ask you something?” you posed, swinging your conjoined hands as they intertwined between you. You loved holding Azriel’s hand—especially after the first time you’d initiated the contact and he blushed so furiously it warmed his skin.
“Of course you can,” came Azriel’s soft reply.
The low sounds of Velaris winding down laid the background of the conversation. The occasional merchant sweeping outside their shop would wave to the two of you, and although you still didn’t recognize them all, it didn’t hurt as much to grin and greet them. A few of them reintroduced themselves with warm smiles after hearing of your condition, but others just appeared happy to see you in any context.
“When I remembered us after we were married,” you began. “Where were we? I’ve been in most of the rooms in the House and I can’t find it.”
“Ah,” Azriel hummed. His mouth curved up in a beautiful half-smile. “I was wondering when you’d ask about that.”
“You’ve been keeping something from me!” you accused with a playful gasp.
“No, no, not keeping it from you, angel. I wanted you to find it on your own.”
“What do you mean find it on my own? I’ve only recently been able to find my study in the House and I lose my way if I start in certain corners.”
Azriel chuckled, his eyes squinting at the corners.
This felt so good—so normal.
This felt like something that could last.
“How many times have I taken you on this walk?” he asked, gently guiding you forward on cobblestone.
“Are you changing the subject?” Azriel shot you a knowing look that had you rolling your eyes. “Fine,” you relented. “Almost every other day.”
“Why do you think that is?”
“It’s a nice path. The street isn’t too busy but there’s a lot to look at,” you shrugged. “I thought you just liked it.”
Azriel brought you to a stop away from the street. “Look a little deeper.” He gestured around with his chin.
There was nothing out of the ordinary, not at first. He had stopped you in a quieter corner of the street, one you always admired each time you passed it. Soft foliage lined each house you passed, purples and blues and muted yellows obviously cared for among old brick and stone. Gentle water could be heard in the distance, most likely from fountains or small wells meant to provide for families. In the setting sun, the houses were peaceful, serene.
Something called to you. It was inexplicable, but you found yourself without the urge to inspect why you were being called. Your power was usually unexplainable—at least that’s what it felt like—but this was different.
You turned to look on at the quaint cottage Azriel had stopped you in front of.
“Does this place mean something?” you asked, knocking your head to the side as you took in the ivy that trailed up tanned stones.
Azriel could be felt at your back, the Illyrian bringing his hands up to rest on your shoulders. “Yes. What does your intuition tell you?”
“I don’t think my magic works like that.”
“Just give it a shot,” Azriel chuckled by your ear.
It was when his lips pressed a chaste kiss to your cheek, stealing your breath away, that you hoped for more. That your intuition prompted you to ask for more.
“Is this… Do we live here?”
You could feel Azriel’s smile near your skin. You turned to face him, his hands dropping from your shoulders as your expression shifted into pleasant disbelief. Azriel’s smile was twisted into permanent light on his face, and he brushed your hair behind your ears as you stared up at him.
“We do. Picked it out right after we were married. We didn’t think raising a family in the House of Wind was very feasible long-term.” Azriel jolted, stuttering for a moment. “Not that we need to raise a family! Now, or ever, actually. That was just something we talked about before, but things are different now and just having you—”
“Azriel,” you smiled, interrupting his rambling by sliding your arms around his shoulder. “Can I ask you something else?”
Azriel blushed, closing his eyes with a sigh as he nodded in defeat.
“Will you kiss me?”
His eyes snapped open, the hazel searching yours with a quickened intensity. “Are you sure?” he asked. His hands were on your waist and you couldn't remember him putting them there. “You don’t have to—”
“I remember our first kiss,” you countered. Your eyes flickered down to the ring hanging around his neck. That question would be for another time. “Seems only fair that I’d get to experience one in real-time, don’t you think?”
“You don’t want to go in the house? Go see it?” he whispered, but he was leaning down as he spoke the words, his eyes glued to your lips.
“I think I’ll have time later.”
When his lips met yours, Azriel exhaled deeply, the hands on your waist pulling you closer with desperation lining his skin. He deepened the kiss in a way that seemed unintentional, intrinsic, and you saw stars behind your lids as he covered your mouth with his and kissed you harder. You had to take a step back to steady yourself and he only followed, his wings coming around your back to press you tighter.
Something rumbled in the back of Azriel’s throat as your fingers twined through his hair. You only had the faint memory of a kiss, but that one was much different than this. That kiss had been sweet and tentative. This kiss was desperate and needy and you could feel the way Azriel missed you in each of his touches.
And, Gods, did you miss him, too. Differently—a way you couldn’t even understand—but you missed him.
When you pulled back, you were met with Azriel’s furrowed brow, his eyes flickering between both of yours. He kept you close as you let out a breathy laugh.
“Do you always kiss me like that?”
“I should,” he breathed, and then he kissed you and kissed you until your back met the front door of your home.
~~~
“Things wouldn’t be so bad, you know,” Mor announced, breaking the silence in the room. “If you didn’t get everything back.”
You glanced up from the diary you’d been poring over, bookmarking the page as you stared up at your friend. “What do you mean?”
“I just mean if you had gaps, maybe things you never remembered, that would be okay,” Mor continued, rising to sit beside you on the loveseat.
She had come to visit you in the cottage—your cottage—bringing you one of your diaries they had hidden in the House of Wind. You had eagerly ripped it from her hands and dove into the contents, barely greeting her as you ushered her in and flipped the door shut.
“Well, the goal is everything,” you explained. You held up the diary and gave it a small shake. “That’s why Az and I asked for these. And there are still people out looking for the witch.”
Mor kissed her teeth and sighed. “But it would be okay,” she repeated. “If you never got it all back. It would be okay if you were just like this, all the time.”
“What, is there something you’re hoping I won’t remember? Something embarrassing?” you teased, but Mor didn’t laugh.
“I’ve been thinking about something you said a little while ago. It’s been bothering me. I talked to Azriel about it too, and I just… I need you to know that we all love you—that I love you—just as you are now. You aren’t a ghost.”
The smile fell from your lips. You placed the diary down in your lap and turned to face Mor, taking her hands in yours. “Mor, I know that. I didn’t mean—”
“No, you were right. We were talking as if you weren’t there and that wasn’t fair. None of this is fair, but especially not that. You have to know, y/n, that the way you are, right now, that’s still you. I’m sorry. We’ve all been idiots.”
You huffed out a small chuckle. “I mean I wasn’t going to say it.”
Some of the light returned to Mor’s eyes, masking the grief that lingered there. “See, there you are.”
You gripped her hands tighter, yanking her in for a hug. “I forgive you, Mor.”
She clutched at your shirt and laughed. “Thank the Mother. Because Azriel wouldn’t shut up about keeping you all to himself. I was sick of the gloating.”
“Azriel? Gloating?” you feigned a gasp, pulling back with a teasing smile.
“You bring it out of him.”
Memories came in different waves as time went on. Sometimes they were quick, difficult rememberings. Other times you were out for much longer and would wake up disoriented and confused. But you were never afraid of them.
At first, the slow nature of their return did make you afraid. You had feared that this process would take too long and everyone would grow tired of waiting. Maybe Azriel would start rolling his eyes when you lost consciousness or Cassian would start to grumble every time you couldn’t connect the dots in one of his stories. The fear was real and it ate away at you for about one week before it was completely diminished.
Because this conversation you were having with Mor—you’d had it with Azriel too.
He had pressed his lips along your forehead and told you that it was fine if you couldn't remember everything, he’d just make you fall in love with him again.
And maybe you were too afraid to tell him that he’d already succeeded at that feat.
A comfortable silence fell over the room as you and Mor continued your independent tasks, you reading your diary, Mor flipping through a stack of correspondence she had brought along with her. The sounds of scribbling and creased parchment were reminiscent of the first few days after you lost your memory—Mor would bring work into your room and sit beside you as you nursed a headache. Hearing it in this context, in your home, felt like it had a meaning to it.
Azriel
It was later in the afternoon when the front door silently opened, Azriel removing his shoes by the door and setting off to find his mate in the cottage. He could hear someone else and mistakenly thought it to be Nesta before he spotted a head of bright-blonde hair beside you in the sitting room. Mor had been the only one in the family who hadn’t visited the cottage yet and relief filled his chest and the sight of her.
You had started to worry that she didn’t want to see you. Azriel had reassured you several times that Mor just thought you didn’t want to see her after the way everyone acted, but his sweet words had done little to quell your fears.
Your relationship with Mor had been different since you woke up; she had been the one person you could trust for a while. When he was afraid and messing everything up, Mor held your hand and talked you through his idiocy.
He was glad some semblance of a reunion in his sitting room.
“Hi, girls,” Azriel greeted, keeping his voice low to match the calm of the room. He leaned down beside your place on the loveseat, pressing a kiss to your hair. “Should I get a fire going? It’s cold in here.”
You turned your head to grin up at him, and Azriel had to calm his heart as it skipped several beats. He was trying to be casual about all of this—about you in the seat you had claimed as yours several years ago, sitting beside your best friend and smiling up at him, looking as if you belonged here because you did—but you were making it very difficult with your pretty smile and the pretty way you blinked at him.
“Hi, Az. Mor’s here,” you offered.
“I see that, my love.”
You smiled again, this time directing it towards Mor. “She brought one of my journals. It’s from before I met you all. I don’t have any memories of that time yet. Very informative.”
“Thought we could go chronologically,” Mor quipped. She leaned up from the couch and stretched her arms. “I’ll let you guys get to it, then. With… whatever mates do.”
“Will you be back?”
Azriel’s heart hurt a little at the question, and he could tell by the softness in Mor’s gaze that she felt the same.
“Of course. Just not when you and Nesta are having your book club. Made that mistake a few too many times,” she teased, sending parting words out the entryway.
As soon as Mor had vacated the seat beside you, Azriel was occupying the space, rounding his arm over your shoulders and smashing you into his chest as he pressed kisses to your skin. You laughed and attempted to push him away, the journal now lost in a cushion, but Azriel was unrelenting.
“I missed you,” he proclaimed.
“I saw you this morning,” you giggled back, finally giving up and allowing the onslaught of affection.
“Doesn’t matter. I spent weeks not touching you. You just started letting me kiss you.”
“We’ve been kissing for a few weeks now.” Azriel only hummed at your words and moved his hands to cup your face as he kissed your cheeks. “Gods, we sound like children.”
“I love you.”
Main POV
You opened your mouth to reply, but Azriel had already silenced you with his lips. You were breathless when he pulled away, all thoughts emptying from your brain.
“How was your day?” he asked, removing himself from the tight grip he’d captured you in. But he still kept you glued to his side.
You took a breath in and blinked. “Um, it was good. Mor came.”
“You mentioned,” Azriel teased. “Any memories you want to talk about over dinner?”
“None today. It’s been slow over the past few days, I’ve noticed.”
Azriel brushed hair from your forehead. “That’s okay. They’ll come with time.” He paused. “Or they won’t.”
The reminder of Azriel’s promise to you sat behind his words. It echoed Mor’s conversation earlier and you fought the reassurance and dread that battled within you.
Because he was right. They might come, or they might not.
Your family would love you either way.
But, would you have to live with this feeling of… incompleteness forever as well?
Would that fade with time?
You offered a soft smile and leaned up to kiss the corner of Azriel’s mouth. “The things in the journal Mor gave me,” you began. “Usually, when one of you tells me about something from the past I feel a connection to it. Or I get a memory back. But I’ve been poring over this book—” you fished it out from the cushions. “—and, nothing. It’s like I’m reading a story and not my own words.”
Azriel furrowed his brow. “That must be difficult to comprehend.”
“It is,” you nodded. “And, that’s fine—I guess. Because none of you can really reinforce memories when you weren’t there. I just feel strange about it.”
“Can I do anything to help?”
You bit your lip as Azriel stared back at you with concern laced in his features. He was already doing everything he could to help, already pushing aside so much so you could find comfort in this confusing life you’d been dropped into.
You watched the way he held himself back, the way he always kept himself close to Velaris and refused necessary missions to keep you near. You looked on without the means to help him as he stressed over the memories you’d receive. He spent countless hours retelling your story and holding you through difficult bouts of unconsciousness and taking it so, painfully slow with you.
Maybe, if you really thought about it, this hole within you wasn’t that big of a deal.
series summary: You'd had a crush on Rafe Cameron since you were six years old, but he friend zoned you at every turn. Once shy and insecure, you found new confidence and self-love after high school. When your high school friends go on a reunion beach trip, Rafe finally sees what he lost, but he isn't going to give you up without a fight.
tropes: unrequited crush, glow up, she fell first/he fell harder
series content: some angst, eventual fluff, slow burn, tomfoolery and shenanigans, drinking, fem!reader has occasional insecurity and body image issues
⇢ series masterlist
additional chapter cw! non-descriptive mentions of vomit
A swing and a miss, again.
Rafe’s game was all over the place, he hadn’t been able to focus in batting practice all week, and now it was the bottom of the ninth in Academy’s rivalry match against Kildare County. He was down in the count when he asked the ump for a timeout.
He had resisted the urge to look in the stands the whole game, afraid he knew what he would find, or rather, what he wouldn’t.
You usually sat behind the dugout, wearing his old jersey that he’d given you after his record-breaking freshman season, and his number in black eyeliner on either cheek. Sometimes, it would take a few days for it to wash off, and you’d show up to school with the hint of his number still faded on your skin.
No one - not his coaches, not his teammates, certainly not his father - could read him like you could. Sometimes he’d pop his head out of the dugout between innings so you could tell him his swing was a few seconds too early for the pitcher’s fastball, or that he needed to stop chasing the backdoor slider. You were never wrong.
They’d tease him in the dugout, tossing sunflower seeds at him and taunting, “what is she, your hitting coach or your wife?” Then he’d ignore you for a few innings, though he almost never got on base without checking in with you first.
Your absence from this game was glaring, one of those same teammates taunting, “can someone please get Cameron’s hitting coach on the phone for fuck’s sake?” after his third strikeout.
He’d brushed it off, but now the game was on the line, and he realized he’d endure any amount of teasing if it meant looking up and seeing you in the stands.
He stepped out of the batter’s box, took a deep breath, and craned his neck to your usual seat, hands gripping the bat tighter when his fear was confirmed - it was empty.
He struck out, and they lost the game.
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It’s actually about to happen, the moment you’d wished for on every star, every eyelash, every birthday candle since you were six years old. The moment you never thought would actually come. You’ve played this scene in your mind a million times, what your first kiss with Rafe would be like. None of the many versions took place in an alley behind a Florida nightclub, but none of them were real either, so now was not the time to be picky.
Rafe’s thumb was still lingering on your bottom lip, the rest of his long fingers caressing your jaw.
“Can I? Please?”
“Yes.”
He smiled, dimples creasing his cheeks so handsomely, and leaned in. You realized you were holding your breath as you awaited the first brush of his lips against yours.
It never came. The door to the club slammed open, making you both jump. Your already thumping heart flew to your throat as Kelce stumbled out the large metal door.
“Woah, sorry,” he jumped back, smirking at the sight of you and Rafe pulling away from each other quickly.
“What could you possibly need from me right now?” Rafe said, jaw clenched and eyes narrowed in warning.
“I came out here to find her,” Kelce pointed at you. “So calm your ass down.”
“What is it, Kelce?” You asked gently, hand on Rafe’s arm to hold him back as he started stepping menacingly toward his friend.
“Something’s wrong with Carter,” Kelce said.
“What?!” Your face flooded with concern, you started toward the club, and Rafe didn’t stop you, knowing the sound of your sister’s name dashed any hope he had of keeping you in this alleyway.
“What happened?” You asked Kelce as you brushed past him back into the crowded club, Rafe following behind the two of you.
“I don’t know, she got into an argument with Top and then she stormed off,” Kelce shouted over the thundering music as he struggled to keep up with you.
You scanned the whole club, but couldn’t find her, just Topper ranting emphatically to Tom in the corner, and Sabrina and Maddie on either side of the bathroom door, trying to talk to someone on the other side.
Kelce and Rafe were lost to the crowd as you beelined toward the bathroom, forcefully pushing angry clubbers out of the way to get there. You didn’t care, you were locked-in on finding your sister.
“Is she in there?” You asked as you approached the bathroom.
“Yeah,” Maddie confirmed, looking worried, and a little queasy. “But she won’t let anyone in.”
“She’s so wasted it’s crazy,” Sabrina added with a hiccuping giggle.
You ignored her lack of concern for your sister and banged loudly on the door.
“Car? It’s me,” you shouted, “you gotta let me in, alright? I just want to make sure you’re okay.”
After a moment, and the thought that you’d break this fucking door down if that’s what it took, the handle finally turned. She opened the door just a crack to let you slip through, and closed it back firmly behind you.
Sabrina wasn’t wrong, Carter’s intoxication was written all over her face. Flushed, clammy skin and bloodshot eyes. She threw her arms around you, squeezing tight enough to knock the wind out of you.
“What happened? Are you okay?” You asked nervously.
Before you got an answer, she was on her knees in front of the toilet bowl. You rushed to grab her hair and hold it back, getting it all out of the way with just seconds to spare before she got sick.
Thinking through the day's events, you realized no one had eaten much before you left the house, and you knew this group well enough to know it didn’t take much for them to get hammered. What you didn’t know was that while you were distracted with Rafe, the rest of your group was in the club throwing back drinks and racking up tabs like the world was ending.
Rafe was having a similar realization out on the floor, trying to wrangle everyone to the front door where he had a pair of cabs waiting. He physically dragged Topper away from the bar as he demanded another drink, the bartender shouting that he was cutoff. He led Maddie and Sabrina away from some sketchy looking guys who were inviting them back to their house boat, which they proudly advertised held gallons of their homemade moonshine. He stopped Tom from sucker punching a guy who booed when the DJ played a Drake song. He lost Kelce twice.
Once he had finally corralled everyone into the cars, he convinced the drivers to hold up so he could come back and find you. He stood by the bathroom door until you appeared behind it, jumping at the sight of him standing so close.
“I got cabs waiting,” he yelled over the music, eyeing Carter sprawled out on the dirty bathroom floor behind you.
“I can’t get her up,” you told him defeatedly, eyebrows knit together with worry. “She’s not doing good.”
Rafe brushed past you without a word or a second thought, and leaned down to scoop Carter up with ease, fireman carrying her out of the club like your own personal Superman. You followed closely on his heel, feeling guilty that you were thinking about how strong his shoulders looked and not how concerned you were for your sister.
You opened the door so he could lower her into the first cab, which only had enough seats left for you and her. Once you slid in behind her, leaning her head against Maddie, who was already dozing off with her forehead pressed on the window, Rafe made sure you were settled before closing the door.
He motioned for you to roll down the window, ducking down so he could lean on it.
“Yo Rafe let’s go man!” Topper yelled from the cab behind you before Rafe could speak.
“Give me a fucking second!” He yelled back.
Forearms against the window sill, he leaned in close enough so only you could hear.
“Just, um, don’t stop thinking what you were thinking in the alley.”
Your lips twisted into a smirk, “couldn’t if I tried.”
He gave you a wink before hurrying back to the other cab.
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You didn’t stop thinking about it. You didn’t stop when the cab driver took the wrong turn and made the trip twice as long as it should’ve been. You didn’t stop when Carter asked the driver to pull over every five minutes so she could hurl on the side of the interstate. You didn’t stop when you finally got Carter up to her room, ranting incoherently about her argument with Topper. You didn’t stop as she kneeled in front of the toilet bowl again and you held her hair back, attempting to soothe her with gentle shushes.
You should’ve been focused on your sister and the awful night she was having, but you couldn’t stop thinking about the shape of Rafe’s mouth.
The thing that finally pulled you from your thoughts of him was a sight you hadn’t seen in almost a decade; Carter started to cry.
Carter never cried, she was your rock, the shoulder for you and all her friends to cry on. She didn’t cry when she fell off the monkey bars in third grade and broke her arm, or when she was rejected from her dream school, or even when your parents got divorced. But here she was, on the cold tile of the Airbnb bathroom floor, bawling.
“Hey, hey, woah,” you said, alarm ringing in your mind as you rushed to sit beside her on the cold tile floor. “What’s going on?”
“I’m such a mess,” she gasped between sobs.
“Well, for starters we need to get you a makeup wipe,” you countered.
“No I mean, like, emotionally,” she wiped her tears with the backs of her hands, only for a new round of drops to fall and further streak her mascara down her skin.
Your sister spent her life running from difficult emotions. It was something you tried to gently point out to her many times, but she’d typically push it away with a sarcastic joke or just ignore you altogether.
You started therapy about a month after you got to college, taking the university health center up on its free psych eval offerings for freshmen. You’d shown up to your therapist’s office every Wednesday at 2:30 since then, religious about not missing a session.
You recommended Carter do the same, but she’d just brush you off with a teasing, “nah I don’t need all that, I’m supposed to be the normal one, remember?”
Taking the hint, you stopped bringing it up after a few months. But now, with Carter’s tears pooling on the floor of this Airbnb, you wished more than ever that she’d listened to you.
“Well, that’s okay,” you gently brushed the hair from her shoulder. “It’s okay not to be okay.”
Carter laid her head on your criss-crossed lap and let the tears fall harder. You rubbed her back and continued to reassure her all was going to be okay, waiting until the tears began to slow and her breathing steadied to broach the subject again.
“Do you want to…” you swallowed, preparing for her to brush you off again, “do you want to talk about it?”
She was quiet for a long moment, you sighed in acceptance that she would pick the ignoring you route this time.
Then, in a small, feeble voice, she whispered, “it’s too scary.”
“What is?” You whispered back, hand resting on her arm for comfort, praying she wouldn’t get spooked and would keep talking.
“Loving him,” she confessed.
Your heart nearly burst. You didn’t need to ask who she was talking about.
“Topper, you mean?” you responded.
She nodded slowly, “it was easier when I didn’t love him. I’m supposed to be leaving in a week. I’m supposed to be on to my next big thing, and all I can think about is what the best time to facetime him is if I’m six hours ahead. I should be thinking about me, but all I want is him, and that’s fucking terrifying.”
The thought sent her into another round of sobs, tears soaking the skirt of your dress.
“I know it feels scary, and new,” you tiptoed to your point, “but…have you ever really not loved him?”
She thought over your words, but the alcohol and drama of the evening was starting to pull her into a restless sleep.
“I’m gonna miss you,” she mumbled, half-asleep already. “So much.”
“Let’s just get you into bed, yeah?” You said, pulling her up off the floor. “We can talk tomorrow.”
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In the darkness of Carter’s room, your phone lit up on the nightstand.
You pulled your arm from under her slowly, praying not to wake her up now that she was finally snoozing peacefully, though her deep snores were occasionally interrupted by shaky breaths, the aftershocks of her sobs. You’d gotten both of you changed and into bed with some difficulty, a strategically placed trash can next to her side of the bed just in case. You reached over to check your phone, turning the brightness down so as not to disturb her.
You had a text from a number that wasn’t saved in your phone, starting with the same 252 area code as yours. You didn’t need to ask “who’s this?” because you’d know that seven digit combination on your deathbed. Deleting his contact from your phone had really been more of a cathartic exercise than anything else.
‘She asleep yet?’
‘I think so but it’s been rough, what about Top?’
‘Same, but he’s out like a light now…and snoring like a jet engine.’
You stifled your laugh so Carter wouldn’t hear, keeping your movements slow as you climbed out of her bed and padded towards the door. Wincing at the squeak of the door hinge, you pulled it slowly closed until the handle clicked.
Down the hall, the same click sounded from Topper’s door. Rafe stood with his hand on the doorknob, listening for any signs that his exit woke the sleeper inside.
His eyes flashed up to meet yours, and you shared a knowing, nervous smile. You each walked a few steps towards the other, Rafe immediately picking up on the water pooling in your eyes. You’d held it together up until now for Carter’s sake, wanting to be strong for her like she’d always been for you, but now the heartbreak of seeing her so upset was finally settling in.
“Hey, hey,” Rafe whispered, lengthening his strides to close the gap between you faster. “What’s wrong?”
He ducked to search your face for a second, your small sniffles breaking his heart. When a tear slipped from the corner of your eye, he pulled you in by your shoulders, wrapping his arms around you in a hug. You let your arms circle his waist, not taking the time to worry if this was strange or if you were okay being this vulnerable with him, just reveling in the comforting smell of him and the rise and fall of his sturdy chest under his t-shirt.
A few more tears slipped out, but with his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back while you breathed him in, your sadness faded slowly into a calm reassurance.
“You good?” He whispered, his chin resting on the top of your head.
You pulled back just enough to look up at him, arms still wrapped around his torso.
“I just didn’t know she was so sad,” you explained, your lip trembling slightly at the thought of your sister, with all her strength and tenacity, slumped over on the bathroom floor. “I should’ve been paying closer attention. I came on this trip for her and all I’ve been doing is thinking about myself. I’m so selfish.”
That thought caused more tears to roll down your cheeks. Rafe placed a palm on either side of your face, his thumbs reaching out to swipe away the salty drops.
“You,” he said firmly, his voice just above a whisper now, more concerned with making sure you heard what he had to say than making sure not to wake anyone, “are not selfish.”
Once your tears were dried, he lifted your face towards him so he could look in your eyes. You ever-so-slightly nuzzled your head into his palm, wondering if he could even feel the gentle way you were surrendering to him. His soft grin told you he could.
“He’s a mess, too,” he nodded back toward Topper’s door.
“I love them, but those two are exhausting,” you chuckled softly.
Even as the conversation lightened up, his hands didn’t fall from your face, and your arms stayed firmly in place around him, just holding each other as you whisper-laughed about the antics of the whole group this evening.
“Sabrina said you had to chase Kelce half a block,” you giggled, and he’d never felt so relieved to see someone’s tears give way to laughter. “Your dad instincts really kicked in there, huh?”
“I don’t know,” he smiled, his eyes creasing with the upward tick of his lips, “the way you basically parted the crowd to get to Carter? Topper might have competition for house mother. Maybe we’re the real mom and dad.”
You snorted at that.
“What?”
“Nothing,” you blinked back, “just funny that you’re already talking about being parents when you haven’t even kissed me yet.”
Rafe nodded, tongue darting out to lick his lips, feigning seriousness, “you’re so right. We should probably do something about that.”
“You should probably do something about that,” you taunted.
His persona cracked and he laughed, eyebrows raised.
“Oh yeah? Should I?”
You nodded, cheeks flushed, eyes sparkling at him as he leaned forward, eager to recapture the moment that had been so unceremoniously stolen from you a few hours ago.
Just before your lips touched, a vile retching noise came echoing down the hall from Topper’s room. He was vomiting again, and the romance was zapped from the air.
Your head fell back in frustration, groaning.
“You wanna go for a drive?” Rafe offered, hand sliding down your arm to find yours, fingers lacing together like they belonged there.
You nodded quickly, a smile replacing your annoyed frown. He led you down the stairs fast and you padded behind excitedly, giggling at his speed and urgency.
“Shit,” he paused before reaching into the bowl on the kitchen counter where everyone was keeping their keys. “I forgot Sabrina blocked me in.”
“We’ll take Carter’s jeep,” you offered, fishing around the bowl until you found her fuzzy pink keychain. “She parked on the road.”
“She won’t mind?” He asked.
“I have a feeling she’s gonna be out for a long time,” you pointed out. “I’m driving though.”
“Just like old times,” he grinned, your heart doing cartwheels at the memory.
Fingers intertwined, you let him pull you away from the house, and the risk of any more interruptions.
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The sky glowed with that pre-sunrise blue fog, turning the world around you into a collection of navy silhouettes. The only shape you cared about seeing was the faded profile of the man in the passenger seat next to you.
Though the air still held the chilly nip of dawn, it was warm enough to roll the windows down, which was always your preference. Your hair whipped around you in a frenzy of wind. You could feel his eyes on you as you drove, but you didn’t look back, suddenly filled with nerves, butterflies crowding your stomach and doubt flooding your mind. You just kept driving, suddenly terrified of what would happen when you stopped.
After a few minutes of unreturned eye contact, Rafe finally tore his gaze away from you, poking around Carter’s car to have something to do with his hands. He opened the glove box, and the middle console, fidgeting with every little button and knick-knack he could find.
You smirked at his restlessness and kept driving straight, not entirely sure where you were going. Rafe opened the sun visor above him, gasping at what he found.
“No fucking way,” he laughed with a disbelieving shake of his head, “Carter has CDs? Still?”
He pulled the sleeve of CDs from the visor’s clip, inspecting them closer.
“Wait,” a slow smile bloomed on his face as he observed knowingly, “these are yours.”
“How’d you know?”
“Because they’re the same ones you had in your car in high school.”
“Didn’t think you’d remember,” you scoffed.
“I remember everything about you,” he said, like it was the most obvious and casual admission anyone had ever made.
Even with the cool morning air blowing in through the window, the car suddenly felt too hot. Too hot and too small. Your chest and neck bloomed with a nervous blush as your breath quickened. How were you supposed to respond to that?
Rafe kept sorting through the CDs, nodding at each one in recognition, leaning back in his seat as if he hadn’t just dropped an atomic bomb into the conversation.
You needed to fill the silence before he noticed the tornado of anxious thoughts tearing through your mind.
“You gonna pick one?” You urged him, eager for the sound of familiar music to erase his words that hung in the air between you.
He finally made it to the back of the plastic sleeve, to a familiar silver disc decorated in sharpie in your handwriting; your favorite homemade mix that you’d played every single day from ages fifteen to seventeen.
You’d titled it “car mix,” though a more accurate title would be “Rafe’s mix.”
Sometime during your freshman year, you’d spent a whole day sitting in front of your computer, meticulously sorting through songs that made you think of him, or that you wanted him to listen to, hoping he would hear them and finally understand you somehow. It was a love letter without words, and he’d heard it a thousand times, but you doubted he ever really listened. Par for the course.
“I think that one got scratched,” you tried to discourage him from playing it, the flashback to your desperate, lovestruck younger self a little too much to handle at five a.m.
Rafe turned it over in his hands, inspecting it for those so-called scratches, finding nothing satisfying.
“Looks good to me,” he disagreed, popping it into the CD player and beaming bright as the first song began to play through the speakers.
“Oh my god,” he laughed, “it’s like we’re in a time machine.”
You agreed, the familiar opening notes of the first song you’d picked for him sent you flying back in time, to a girl you thought was long dead, and the boy next to her, whom she’d loved to her grave.
Chills shot up your spine, a warning shot before the tears that were beginning to gather on your lash line. You pulled the car quickly to the side of the road, sand flying up with the screech of the tires. You realized then that you’d somehow found your way to the public beach, the parking lot empty and sandy shore free of any sunbathers or surfers.
Rafe turned the music down, looking at you quizzically as your foot slammed on the break. Before he could ask what was going on, you were pulling the keys from the ignition and throwing off your seatbelt, hopping down from the driver’s seat and slamming the door behind you. He scrambled for his door handle as you started walking quickly toward the water and away from him.
The salty air was so thick you could taste droplets of seawater on your lips before you were even halfway to the shore. The waves crashed violently, remnants of the week’s storms throwing the water back and forth until it was foaming and angry.
Angry. You were as angry as the sea, sand kicking up with each stomp of your foot as you hurried as far away from him as you could possibly get. His long legs were already catching him up to you as he chased you down, calling your name.
Despite your efforts to outpace him, you could feel him gaining on you, nearly at your heel by the time your toes touched the water’s edge. Flight would not be an option, it was time for a fight.
“You remember everything?” You whipped toward him, nearly knocking him over with the force of the glare that met him. You stalked toward him, catching the way he backed up just a step before squaring his shoulders and planting himself until you were nearly chest to chest. “What the fuck am I supposed to do with that, Rafe?”
“What are you talking about?” He asked desperately, scrambling from the whiplash of your sudden outburst. “What the hell just happened?”
He was genuinely so clueless as to the reason for your sudden shift in mood, reeling like he was mentally still back in the car listening to music, eyes scanning your face as he tried desperately to catch up. You almost took pity on him. Almost.
“I can’t,” a lump lodged itself into your throat and you bit your lip for a second to hold it down, “I don’t think I can do this.”
“What? Can’t do what?” He begged for clarity.
You just shook your head, a final plea to your own tears not to fall in front of him, but they betrayed you, one single drop slipping down your face. You turned from him quickly as a final ditch ending to hide them from him, and stepped away further down the beach.
“No, no wait, please wait,” with two easy strides he was close enough to touch you, wrapping his hand around your wrist to turn you toward him. “Don’t do this to me. You said you’d remember the alleyway, we were so close. We are so close.”
“Are we?” You challenged him. “If we’re so close then why can’t I even ride in the car with you without feeling like I can’t breathe? You don’t get it, Rafe. You don’t understand that every memory feels like a fucking sucker punch.”
“Then let’s not focus on the memories,” he suggested, “I just want to be with you right now.”
“Why now?” You burst out, another tear breaking through the barricade and sliding traitorously down your cheek. “Why not then?”
They were the two questions that plagued you since you saw him on the beach. You felt you knew the reason. You looked different, he was attracted to this version of you. Even though it would hurt like a bitch, you really wished he would just admit it, that he only wanted you because of how you look now, so you could finally just hate him and move on.
Instead, he continued his time honored tradition of giving you the exact opposite of what you wanted.
He looked straight at you, no waiver in his voice as he said, “because I wasn’t ready for you. I wasn’t good enough.”
It was the perfect answer, and your worst case scenario. Heartfelt, honest, a hot knife to the wall of ice you’d worked so hard to build between you and him. As he’d done so many times before, Rafe melted you.
Soft eyes, you tilted your head as you studied him, “and you are now?”
“No,” his laugh surprised you, scoffing as if it was the most ridiculous question in the world. “But I’m smarter. Smart enough to know that I’ll never be good enough for you. Who could be?”
The last chips of ice melted away entirely at those words, the image of his sweet smile when he said them etched itself on your heart in a way you knew was completely permanent.
As so often happened when you were at a crossroads with your own mind, you heard Carter’s voice ringing through your thoughts. Though this time, it wasn’t a quippy comment about Rafe, or a catchy mantra to encourage you to hold your head high. Instead, you heard her weak, cracked voice as she cried on the bathroom floor just hours ago; “it’s too scary.”
Suddenly, you knew exactly what she meant.
Your every instinct was to pull away from him, hide away the vulnerable thought to avoid any risk of him making it worse. But as he looked down at you, the first traces of sunrise streaking across the horizon, casting a gold-pink glow on his cheekbones, something in the back of your mind was saying you could trust him.
“I’m scared,” you all but whispered.
Rafe lifted his hand slowly, as if you were an elusive, wild thing that would run off at any sudden movement. When you didn’t flee, he took the chance to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, voice dropping low as he said, “I know.”
“How am I supposed to know you won’t hurt me?”
Your deepest fears continued to flow out of you, into his waiting hands, praying he wouldn’t let you slip through his fingers.
“I don’t think you will until you give me a chance to prove it to you,” he countered.
You knew he was right. Holding him at arm’s length would never get you the answers you needed from him. You’d never know if he had really changed unless you got close enough to relearn him, and you’d never know how he really felt about you unless you gave him a second chance to show you. You aren’t generally opposed to second chances, more likely to give them out then, say, your sister is.
“You know what Carter would say?” You chuckled darkly, unable to detangle your sister’s voice from your own conscience even if you wanted to. “That you don’t deserve any more chances.”
“That might be the first thing I’ve ever agreed with her on,” Rafe was quick to acknowledge. “But you know what else she’d say?”
“What?” You asked with raised brows, skeptical that he had any clue what Carter would actually say, and knowing she would hate that he was claiming to.
“That you deserve a chance.”
Funny thing is, that’s exactly what Carter would say. She didn’t really know how badly you wanted him, that you were starting to suspect you might just be happiest when you’re with him, but she always encouraged you to do what made you happy, even when it was something she didn’t understand.
“And if I’m what you want then I just happen to be the luckiest idiot in the world, because I want you too. You have no idea how badly.”
The tide was coming in, the very edge of each wave nipping at your toes before being pulled back out to sea. Rafe’s confession made you feel so unsteady, you wondered if you’d crumble and get pulled out right with it. Your mind reached for anything to ground you before you drowned in him completely.
“Why?” You asked him, needing his answer like a port in the storm.
“Why?” He repeated, either confused by the question or by the need for it. Somehow, both possibilities annoyed you.
“Yeah, tell me why you want me,” you placed your hands on your hips, shoulders squaring up with him in challenge. “And you’re not allowed to use the word beautiful, or cute, or call me baby.”
“This kinda feels like a test,” he laughed, scratching the back of his head.
“Yeah? Maybe it is,” you huffed. “And this time there’s no cheating, no open book. And no me to slip you the answers.”
“Can I get a few minutes to review my notes?” His cheeky pout was so cute you worried you were about to fold right there on the spot.
“Fine,” you allowed, “you get one minute to think about it.”
He feigned worry, faked stress, biting his thumbnail and looking out over the waves as if he actually had to think it over.
In reality, he was more prepared for this test than any he’d ever taken in his life. He’d spent years thinking about this moment, about what he would say, what he could say that would possibly be enough.
While you waited for him to speak, you mirrored his stance, facing the water with your hands wrapped around you.
Rafe turned his head slightly to take in your profile, the sliver of daylight creeping over the horizon making your features glow so romantically.
You could feel his eyes on you, but you tried to focus on the count in your head, dutifully keeping track of the seconds until his allotted prep time was up.
Evidently, he didn’t need a timer, his voice broke the silence before you had even gotten to forty-five.
“Y’know, I got a walk-on tryout invite for baseball at Chapel Hill,” he started.
You resisted the urge to look at him or respond, despite your mind racing to connect the dots between that statement and the challenge of explaining why he wants you.
“I was…so shitty,” he laughed at the memory, “I mean just awful. Striking out in the cage, my fielding was all over the place, I dropped a fucking pop fly. I’ve made that play a thousand times and the one time it counted, I dropped it. I mean, you wouldn’t have even recognized me out there. And the best part was that my dad came to watch. He bribed an old alum buddy to get him into closed tryouts just to watch me absolutely shit the bed.”
His smile faded.
“It was the worst day of my life. The coaches didn’t even call me themselves, they sent me an automated email to tell me I didn’t make the team. They were nice enough to send me some film from the tryout, though. I must’ve watched it a hundred times. I was spiraling like a bitch, just full on meltdown. I watched that film over and over, like some kind of torture. When I watched it, I just kept wondering how that guy could’ve ever been considered good.”
He turned to you, looking down at you intensely, hesitating for the first time since he started talking.
“I know I fumbled you. I knew it from the second it happened. And,” he swallowed hard, struggling with the next part. “I knew you were in love with me.”
Your head snapped to the side to look at him, face beat red.
“I was an idiot, but I wasn’t blind,” he continued before you could interject a defense. “The problem was never that I didn’t know, it was that I didn’t know why. But the way you looked at me, I don’t know, it made me feel like I must be like, somewhat good. Why else would you care about me if I wasn’t? But then when I was fucking rotting in my dorm watching that film over and over it kind of hit me…you didn’t love me because I was good. I was good because you loved me.”
Breath escaped you, eyes glossy as you let those beautiful words sink in, but he wasn’t done.
“I thought it was just a lucky break that I got you for four years. And of course I fucked it up, I fuck everything up. After those tryouts, I had nothing, no one. I failed my classes, dropped out of rushing a frat, I stopped talking to everyone. Shit, even my sisters were calling me to see if I was okay. I got it together eventually, kind of, but it’s never been the same. I have never been the same…since you. But then I saw you on the beach the other day, and it kind of hit me. The biggest loss wasn’t your love for me, or my fielding skills, or the bullshit frat parties. It was my best friend. You were my best friend. You were - you are - my favorite fucking person. When all that shit happened, you were the only one I wanted to talk to, and I couldn’t, I didn’t deserve to. But god, I’d give anything, anything, to have my best friend back. You don’t have to…be with me. I understand if you don’t want to. But please, can we just be friends again?”
You blinked up at him as he finished his monologue, all his words swirling around your head like cartoon birds, dizzying and all consuming. You wished it really was a test, cause then you’d have a printed copy that you could study and analyze and go over and over with different colored highlighters.
But it wasn’t a test. It wasn’t a metaphor. It was just you and the boy you love standing on the beach at sunrise, looking at each other like you were the only two people on earth.
“No.” You said, shaking your head.
His eyes blinked rapidly, trying and failing to hold back his emotion. Before he could spiral any further, you added,
“I don’t wanna be friends.”
His eyes flicked over yours for just a second, double checking, asking you silently if that meant what he thought it did. You gave him the slightest nod, as if to finally say “yes, Rafe.”
Rafe’s hands landed firm but gentle on either side of your face, pulling you towards him. Your lips met in a symphony of passion and affection and need and a mutual sigh of fucking finally.
He tasted better than you’d ever imagined, a sweet rush to your head as his tongue parted your lips slightly. He pulled back just an inch to let his uncontrollable smile break against yours, laughing into each other’s mouths in disbelief and pure, unadulterated joy. Once he was satisfied that you understood how happy he was, he pulled you back in.
If the first kiss was a spark, the second kiss was a goddamn explosion. He kissed you like the tide kisses the shore in a hurricane, his tsunami waves crashing into you over and over again. His tongue took over, claiming you, taking up space in your mouth like he never planned to leave. His hands drifted, one to the back of your head, laced in your hair, the other on the small of your back, holding you against himself. Your hands snaked up his arms, savoring every inch of him until you reached his shoulders. You linked your arms around his neck, pulling him down to you as you stood on your tiptoes to meet him, finding middle ground for the first time in your lives.
After a while, your lips parted, both of you desperate for breath, the lack of oxygen dizzying.
“So,” he smiled, hand still cradling your head and his thumb sweeping over your bottom lip, “did I pass?”
“Hmm,” you pretended to consider it, “A minus.”
“What? You must be grading on a curve,” he shook his head.
“Maybe you could do some extra credit,” you flirted.
With a sly smile at that, he returned his lips to yours, and you forgot a time when you didn’t know what it was like to kiss him.
Time passed, the sun rose, night bloomed into morning, and Rafe kissed you for what could’ve been a lifetime. With each minute that passed with his lips on yours, you felt all the bad memories fade to gray, the past washing away with the crash of the waves, leaving only him.
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Carter’s Jeep sat parked on the side of the road, the interior dark in the early morning light, except for the phones buzzing uncontrollably on each seat.
On the passenger's side, Rafe’s phone blew up with texts from Topper. The most recent reading ‘dude, we’ve got trouble at the house…’
On the driver’s seat, yours lit up with twelve missed calls and a single text from Carter,
‘Don’t come back.’
(to be continued)
a/n: sorry for any taglist errors, to be the first to know when I post, follow @whytheylosttheirminds-works and turn on notifs <3
series summary: You'd had a crush on Rafe Cameron since you were six years old, but he friend zoned you at every turn. Once shy and insecure, you found new confidence and self-love after high school. When your high school friends go on a reunion beach trip, Rafe finally sees what he lost, but he isn't going to give you up without a fight.
tropes: unrequited crush, glow up, she fell first/he fell harder
series content: some angst, eventual fluff, slow burn, tomfoolery and shenanigans, drinking, fem!reader has occasional insecurity and body image issues
⇢ series masterlist
additional chapter cw! suggestive moments, mature readers only please!
You and Carter didn’t fight, it just didn’t happen.
Like any sisters, you got on each other’s nerves, you disagreed on things, you borrowed each other’s clothes without asking - but you didn’t fight.
Growing up, your parents fought all the time. You and Carter would sit in her bedroom and listen to music, talking and laughing and pretending not to hear. Ever since then, you had a silent agreement; you didn’t fight and you never raised your voices at each other.
The problem with this system was that you were never quite sure when she was upset with you. Your stomach churned the whole rest of your shower, as she stood uncharacteristically quiet at the bathroom sink and did her makeup.
Maybe she hadn’t heard you, or maybe she had just hated your words so much that she couldn’t even respond to them. You knew she wouldn’t like it when you admitted that you’d be with Rafe if he asked you, but pretending it had never been said seemed particularly childish.
A little while later, you sat on a stool in front of the bathroom mirror as she did your hair and makeup. You found your eyes continually drifting up to her, searching for any sign of anger. When a full half-an-hour passed and she still hadn’t responded to your comments about Rafe, you broke down and asked, “are you mad at me?”
“For what?” She scrunched her eyebrows.
“For what I said in the shower,” you wrung your hands in your lap, not sure you wanted the answer.
“Bitch, you know I have the short term memory of an ant, you’re gonna have to give me more to work with.”
You laughed at her bluntness, the lightheartedness of her words relaxing you enough to face your fear.
“What I said about Rafe,” you said. “That I’d be with him if he asked me to.”
She paused her work on your hair, setting the brush down and meeting your eyes in the mirror.
“When did you say that?” She twisted her lips.
“When you came back in, while I was in the shower.”
She shook her head, “must’ve been talking to someone else because I’ve definitely never heard you say that. I feel like I would’ve remembered something so insane.”
You looked down at your hands in your lap, playing the whole thing back in your mind. You had definitely heard someone come in, the door squeaking at their arrival. That means someone else in the house was walking around with your deepest secret. And now Carter knew it too.
“Oh,” you said. “Never mind then.”
“Yeah right, you really think I’m just gonna move on from that?” Carter put her hands on her hips.
“We could just pretend I never said anything,” you shrugged.
“Yes you know me,” Carter rolled her eyes, “I’m famous for letting things go and being super chill when I hear someone say something batshit crazy.”
You sighed, “okay fine, but what you didn’t hear was me following the statement up by saying I know I shouldn’t be with him ‘cause I’d probably hate myself the whole time.”
Carter started working on your hair again, her contorted face betraying her attempt to act casual.
“Please just say whatever you’re thinking,” you urged her.
“I don’t want to tell you what to do,” she replied.
You snorted, “since when?”
“I just, like, ugh,” she dropped her head back in frustration. “Why him? Like I’ve never understood. What is it about him?”
“I don’t know,” you said honestly. “I’ve never really known. He’s just…”
“Arrogant, selfish, a bully…” she finished your sentence for you.
“Stop,” you laughed, shaking your head.
“Just be careful, okay?” She placed her hands on your shoulders, meeting your eye in the mirror. “I don’t want to see you get hurt again.”
“I know,” you nodded. “I will be.”
“If Rafe Cameron has zero haters then I am dead,” she concluded.
“I know that too,” you smiled.
Carter leaned past you to collect a couple bobby pins from the bathroom sink, her shirt slipping slightly off her shoulder and revealing a patch of deep purple marks.
“Oh my god,” you squealed. “Are those hickies?!”
She dragged her shirt back over her shoulder defensively.
“No! I fell!”
“Uh-huh, right onto Topper’s mouth apparently!” You poked her side, teasing her.
“Shut up,” she smiled and you cackled.
After that, the Rafe conversation was dropped as you pressed Carter for more details on her hook up with Topper. She tried to play cool, but you could tell there was something more going on under the surface that she didn’t want to say. You decided to be patient, if she was going to finally come to terms with her feelings for him, she was going to do it all on her own.
When she was finally done with your hair and makeup, you inspected yourself in the mirror.
“Baddie,” she winked at you.
You blushed, “alright let’s go, the boys are probably waiting.”
Carter stood back and crossed her arms, giving you an incredulous look.
“What?” You questioned.
“You’re not wearing that.”
You looked down at your outfit, a crop top, black jeans, and boots. You thought it was a perfectly acceptable clubbing outfit, but Carter clearly disagreed.
“Why not?”
“We’re going out to, like, clubs. In downtown Miami. You gotta stunt on ‘em a little bit,” she argued.
“I am! Look how tight these jeans are,” you did a spin to display your point.
“Good thing I brought the perfect dress in your size for just such an occasion,” she ignored you.
“Oh okay so this was a premeditated makeover?” You smiled.
She ran down the hall to her room and returned with a lacy, red minidress. Knowing you’d lose any argument you posed, you changed into it reluctantly. The corset top hugged your waist, pushing your chest up. Your shoulders slumped instinctually, like you could hide away in yourself. You’d come a long way on your self-love journey, but your self-doubt still crept in from time to time.
As per usual, Carter sensed it right away.
“Shoulders back, head up,” Carter reminded you. “Let ‘em know.”
You took a deep breath, nodding in the mirror, choosing to leave your insecurities behind. You’d borrow her faith in you for just one night.
As Carter, Maddie and Sabrina did their final touch ups and compared outfits, you pulled on your heels and headed downstairs. The other girls didn’t seem concerned with punctuality, but you were sure Topper was probably freaking out about how long they were taking.
It wasn’t Topper you found in the kitchen, though.
Rafe stood at the sink with his back to you, his black button up pulled taught over his defined back muscles as he stared off into space and the cup in his hand overflowed.
You smiled, holding your shoulders back as Carter had taught you, bracing for him to see you in this dress.
“Thirsty?”
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He felt his resolve break with the rest of his brain, dizzy and drowning in the sight of you. He had the ridiculous urge to shield his eyes, like he was hiding them from the sun, your beauty too overwhelming to gaze directly at.
He set the glass down on the counter, drying his hands with a nearby towel, never once breaking eye contact with you.
Licking his lips quickly, he shamelessly let his eyes drag over your bare legs and up your body, knowing full well you could see him take in every inch of you. He didn’t care, he needed you to understand what you were doing to him.
When his eyes finally landed on yours, he clenched his jaw tight, nostrils flaring with his rising pulse. He tilted his head to the side, narrowing his eyes, telling you silently: you’re killing me.
“You like it?” You whispered, running your hands over the lacy fabric.
Rafe opened his mouth to answer, planning something along the lines of “do I like it? Are you fucking kidding me?” but before he could, the rest of the girls came clamorring down the stairs behind you, stealing the moment.
At the sound of clicking heels and giggles, the rest of the boys came filing into the room.
Rafe gave you one more longing look before handing Kelce the glass of water. Kelce tried to protest, but Rafe shoved it in his hands anyway.
“We’re not leaving ‘til you drink it,” Rafe scolded him.
“Taking over Topper’s mom duties?” Maddie laughed at the exchange.
“No, Rafe’s much more dad vibes,” Carter countered.
“Yes and mom and dad will be pissed if our Ubers leave, so let’s go children,” Topper herded the group toward the front door.
Rafe took the now empty glass from Kelce and left it in the sink, and you lingered back for a second, pretending to fix your shoe so you’d both end up at the back of the pack. He watched as you bent down and fiddled with the slingback, hovering close when you stood.
“Nice dress,” he mumbled down to you.
“You think so?” You twisted your lips to keep from beaming at him, trying to maintain some semblance of nonchalance.
“There’s not much of it,” he teased, scratching the back of his head as he looked down over the lacy fabric. “But yeah, it’s nice.”
“You gonna give me the ‘you’re not leaving the house in that, young lady’ treatment?” You pressed him. “You really are like the dad.”
“Why? Would you change if I told you to?” He asked skeptically.
“Not a fucking chance,” you scoffed, swinging your hips as you spun and made for the front door.
He was really planning on staying away from you? What a fucking joke. He followed you out of the house like you had him on a leash. He was in for a long night.
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It took all of five minutes for Carter to grab Topper’s hand and pull him to the corner of the club, and it took even less time for their close talking to become a full on makeout.
You smirked at them as you ordered another drink, knowing you’d need something to help you get through this evening if Carter wasn’t going to be by your side. You could feel Tom’s eyes on you as he approached from the other side of the bar.
The whole Uber here, Tom had been eyeing you in the rear view mirror from the front seat. The only stare that made you more uncomfortable was Sabrina’s. It couldn’t be more clear that she’d grown attached to him on their jet ski ride, laughing loud at his unfunny jokes and hovering in his vicinity all night. You had unwittingly fallen into a love triangle you wanted nothing to do with.
You could feel his attempt to hit on you before he even spoke.
“Put her drink on my tab,” Tom told the bartender.
“Oh, you don’t need to do that,” you said, not wanting to give him any openings.
“Not a problem,” he said. “I know I’ve been kind of a jerk today, the least I can do is buy you a drink to say sorry.”
The bartender handed you the glass, and you immediately took a sip, fiddling with the straw uncomfortably.
“Sorry for what?” You feigned ignorance.
“Last night, I didn’t mean to make you feel weird,” he said, stepping closer to you. He clearly couldn’t see the irony that he was apologizing for making you feel weird while actively making you feel weird. “I just think you’re really cool and I wanted to get to know you better.”
He was crowding your space now, the scent of his heavy cologne choking your senses. Just a few days ago, you found the same smell enticing, but now, there was only one person you wanted standing this close.
Your eyes flicked over Tom’s shoulder, scanning the crowd for him. You found him leaning against the wall, Kelce talking to him emphatically about something you couldn’t hear. You didn’t have to get his attention, his eyes were already on you. Tight lipped smile, you flicked your eyes between him and Tom, trying to communicate your need for his assistance.
Rafe didn’t need anything more to understand what you were asking, tuned in to your every move and sensing your need for him before you even caught his eye. He pushed off the wall and left Kelce talking to no one so he could shove his way through the crowd. Taller than almost everyone, you tracked him the whole way through the sea of people. Tom seemed none the wiser, continuing hitting on you.
“Maybe we could get out of here,” Tom suggested, leaning in a little too close so you could hear him over the music.
“Nah, not tonight bro.”
Rafe appeared by your side just in time, forcing Tom to take a step back as he draped his arm over your shoulders possessively. Tom’s eyes flew between the two of you as you reached up to the hand on your shoulder and threaded your fingers with Rafe’s. Relief swelled through your body as Tom stepped back. You leaned into Rafe’s hold more, wrapping your arm around his waist and giving him a grateful squeeze. You knew he felt it when you saw his mouth perk up at the corners. But he didn’t take his eyes off Tom, his work here unfinished.
“Since when are you two together?” Tom puzzled defensively.
“Look man, why don’t you go find, uh, Sabrina,” Rafe waved him off. “Or literally any other girl here.”
As if Rafe’s suggestion had summoned her, Sabrina appeared at Tom’s side.
“Oh my god,” she slurred, eyes red and glossy with intoxication. “Are y’all a thing now? Girl, I never thought you’d actually do it. Good for you!”
It had the cadence of women supporting women, but the undertone was clear. You didn’t miss the disbelief in her tone, subtly trying to cut you down while appearing to lift you up. If Carter was here, she’d bitch her out. But you didn’t need saving from this one.
You tightened your hold on Rafe’s hand, swinging his arm from around your shoulders but not letting go. You pulled him away from Tom and Sabrina, leading him deep into the crowd on the dancefloor.
Before he had the chance to ask what you were doing, you placed his hands on your waist, spinning in his grasp until your back was flush with his chest and moving to the music. He made no protest, squeezing you between his hands and swaying along with you. Tom and Sabrina watched from across the room, his jaw clenched and her arms crossed.
After a few minutes, both sets of eyes eventually left you, but you didn’t notice, and you didn’t stop. It wasn’t for show anymore. You closed your eyes as you continued to let the music move you. Rafe’s strong arms on either side of you, your brain flashed images of his half naked body in the kitchen and how he kneeled in front of you in the basement. The same fingertips that had so gently caressed your calf were now burrowing into the soft flesh of your hips. One of your arms stretched up, your palm finding the back of his neck, kneading his skin as you clung to him.
When you looked up to meet his eyes, they were ablaze with pure lust. Your lips parted to tell him you felt it too, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say it. Instead you showed him, your body moving through the music like water. The bass pumped through your chest, tangling with your thumping heart beat until you couldn’t tell which was which.
Rafe held you tight against him, like if he let you go you might slip under the waves again. His head sank low, until the tip of his nose was grazing just over the curve of your neck. He was hardly moving, not so much dancing as swaying, letting you do the work his eyes drank in every inch of your body.
With a precise roll of your hips, you pushed against him, and you nearly gasped at the feeling of something hard and demanding pressing into your hip. Your lips twisted with the sweetest satisfaction.
“Thought you were trying to be a gentleman,” you said over the music.
“I was,” he brought his lips to your ear so you could hear him. “But you’re making it too fucking hard.”
Smirking, you twisted in his arms until you were facing each other. You both caught the accidental euphemism and met eyes, breaking into matching laughter.
“You know what I mean,” he rolled his eyes.
“I don’t think I do,” you teased with a quirked eyebrow. “Enlighten me.”
His smile fell, as did his hands, lowering from your waist to your hips. You reached both arms up, wrapping around his neck and lacing your fingers behind him.
His eyes swept over your face as he whispered, “you look so-”
“Cute?”
You meant it in jest, but he didn’t laugh. His eyes darkened and his jaw clenched as he took you in, serious as hell when he said,
“So fucking beautiful.”
You shuddered in his arms, and he ran his hand down your exposed back, tracing his fingers delicately over your spine.
“Been driving me crazy since I saw you on the beach,” he continued.
His hand kept falling lower, though it slowed as it reached your lower back, asking for permission with his hesitancy. Your body arched into him without even thinking about it. His palm glided over your ass, the soft fabric of your dress and your plush flesh beneath it pulling an involuntary groan from him. He went lower still, slotting his fingers in the crease where your ass meets your thigh, lingering, setting up camp like he’d stay there all night if you let him. He found the spot so deliberately that you knew he’d been thinking about it for days.
You waited with baited breath, your silence inviting him to keep talking.
All he said next was your name. It was low and needy, like a request, or maybe a warning. Flames erupted in your stomach and sent a hot blush sweeping across your body.
“Do you…” your throat tightened with vulnerability, “do you want to go somewhere?”
Yes, Rafe thought, anywhere, for any amount of time.
But there was a small voice in the back of his head giving him pause. Your voice, earlier today in the shower, when you thought you were talking to someone else.
“I don’t want you to hate yourself,” he shook his head, sad eyes falling from your face to his shoes.
You tilted your head as you examined him, unsure for a moment what he meant. Then it clicked, realizing those were your words on his lips. He was the one who heard you in the bathroom. You fought the temptation to run away in embarrassment when you remembered what else he must’ve heard.
After all you’d admitted to, the piece he was clearly holding onto was the only part you didn’t actually mean. You had added the detail about hating yourself when you thought you were talking to Carter and that she was upset with you.
It was too much to explain to him there on the crowded dance floor. You slipped your hand into his and pulled him from the crowd, out a side door and into the alleyway.
Once outside, you tucked your hair behind your ears and looked down anxiously at your feet. The loss of the music and the sobering night air weakened the boldness you had mustered inside.
“When you said we should go somewhere I wasn’t picturing so much garbage,” Rafe motioned towards the nearby dumpster.
You laughed, his playful words successfully easing your nerves. You took a deep breath and reminded yourself why you’d brought him out here.
“You heard me, didn’t you? In the shower?”
“I’m sorry,” he blushed, caught red handed. “I wasn’t trying to spy or anything. But…yeah.”
“I didn’t mean it,” you told him.
Hurt flashed in his eyes for just a second, before he nodded and squared his shoulders to cover it up.
“Got it,” he shrugged.
“No, I mean, the hating myself part,” you clarified.
“So the other stuff…?” He was quick to follow up.
The door for you to finally tell him how you felt was wide open in front of you, but you weren’t sure if you could walk through it. The words you’d been holding back your whole life sat on the tip of your tongue, but refused to pass your lips. You looked at him helplessly.
“I can’t,” you shook your head.
Rafe sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.
“What? You can’t what?”
Your mouth fell open in disbelief, incensed that he was the one with an attitude here.
“You know what?” You said, hands on your hips. “I don’t think you have a lot of room to be snapping at me, Rafe. Not after everything you’ve done.”
“Everything I’ve done?” He huffed. “Please, tell me what I did that’s so terrible?”
“Seriously? High school wasn’t that long ago, Rafe.”
“Look I know I was a dick, okay?” He stepped forward, voice softening a bit with his apology. “And maybe you’ll never forgive me. But all that shit? That guy? That’s in the past, and I don’t want to talk about the past anymore, I just wanna be with you now.”
“I don’t know, Rafe,” you shook your head sadly. “I don’t know if I can just pretend none of that happened.”
“How long then?” He threw his hands up in exasperation. “Tell me how long I’m gonna be paying for some shit I did when I was seventeen so I at least have an idea, please. Give me a date so I can plan for it.”
“Let’s see, Rafe, I wanted you for twelve years, you’ve wanted me for like two days. Does that seem even to you?”
Your words struck him, the anger in his eyes dissolving, replaced with tenderness. He stepped towards you tentatively, ducking just a bit to better read your face.
“You really think I’ve only wanted you for two days?” He mumbled softly. “Baby…”
It was the second time he’d called you that today. You were in too much pain when he said it after you fell off the jet ski, but your brain had tucked it away subconsciously to revisit when you felt better. He’d called you baby before, when you were in high school. It had always given you butterflies, and you never called attention to it, afraid he’d stop if he realized how much it meant to you.
Since then, you’d reframed the memories to convince yourself that he never actually meant it, that it was some kind of manipulation tactic. But the way it rolled so naturally off his tongue earlier, and the way he’d breathed it so desperately now, made you reconsider.
“Please don’t call me that,” you pleaded. “Not if you don’t mean it.”
Rafe just blinked back at you, not an ounce of deception in his voice when he said, “I’ve always meant it.”
His confession pinched your heart, the whole story rewriting itself in your mind. For the first time ever, you let yourself actually believe that he cared for you, that he’d always cared for you. To anyone else who knew the whole story, it might seem unlikely, but seeing the look in his eyes right now, you had never been so sure of anything in your life.
You bit your lip as you looked up at him, your deep longing for him stronger than ever. He felt it too, you could tell by the way he drew closer, his body lining up with yours, eyes locked to your lips.
With the most tenderness you’ve ever encountered, he reached his hand up, the pad of his thumb landing on your bottom lip and pulling it gently from between your teeth, undoing you.
“Rafe…” you whispered, a plea and a question, as his lips ghosted over yours.
“Can I?” He breathed. “Please?”
You nodded, never meaning anything more than when you told him “yes.”
(to be continued)
a/n: chat what do we think? are we forgiving him? only 3 chapters to goooo. Also I wrote “shoulders back. head up. let ‘em know.” on my bathroom mirror as my new morning mantra 💘
as always, sorry if I leave you off the tags it's not intentional! to be the first to know when I post a new chapter, follow @whytheylosttheirminds-works and turn on notifs <3
warnings: car crash, drinking, partying, soft!rafe, descriptions of blood, rafe and sarah actually get along, underage drinking? (i guess sarah but this doesnt fit in with the obx timeline), topper and sarah dating, established relationship, surgery, hospital setting, injuries, fluffy, they say i love you a lot
“you good to drive top?” rafe tosses the keys towards his friend. rafe usually wouldn't trust anyone else with his truck, but he wouldn't drive with even one drink in his system when he has such precious cargo.
“yeah, man.” topper catches the keys one handed with ease, pulling sarah behind him with his free hand.
rafe looks to you, wrapped against his side, steps slightly wobbly, a small giggle escaping your lips as he opens the back door for you.
“why thank you.” you step in with rafes help, immediately flopping down in the seat.
“gotta buckle up, baby.” rafe may be slightly tipsy as well, but he's not as far gone as you are, having indulged with your girlfriends at the party, including sarah who is clearly the drunkest out of the group as topper has to physically lift her into the passenger seat.
“mkay.” you hum, letting rafe do up your buckle in the middle seat before you collapse against his side, eyes closing instantly as your tiredness sets in.
“did you have fun?” rafe asks as topper gets in, his arm wrapping around your shoulders.
“mhm.” you hum out again, not wanting to actually open your mouth to speak as the truck moves out of its parking spot, topper carefully driving down the road as he squints slightly into the darkness before turning the brights on to illuminate the road more.
“just head to mine, top.” sarah says, reaching over to place her hand on his bicep. “you can spend the night.”
“in the guest bedroom.” rafe adds on. he can't see sarah roll her eyes, but he knows she does.
“shh, young love is cute rafey.” you mumble, rubbing your head against his chest like a cat would snuggle into their owner.
“im like only three years younger than-” sarah can't finish her sentence as topper blares on the horn seconds before another truck rams into the passenger side, sending the truck spinning through the intersection. before you even realize what is happening, you're upside down, then right side up, then upside down again before the truck ends up on its tires once more, now off the side of the road.
“fuck!” topper shouts out, his hands running over his body, checking to see that he’s okay before turning to look to sarah, who is clearly shaken but uninjured. “everyone okay?”
“baby?” rafes arm caged you against his body during the impact, but the rolling dislodged you as the top of the car crunched down.
“shit…” you groan, reaching up to touch your forehead, having smacked it against something in the crash. you pull your hand away to realize that your fingertips are red with blood.
“im bleeding.” you wheeze out, panic suddenly setting in as you try to move before realizing you’re trapped, leg pinned under sarah’s seat which has been pushed in towards you from the impact.
“baby, baby!” rafes voice breaks through your panic as his hands grip at your wrists until you stop your flailing. “stay calm, im getting us out.”
topper is able to kick his door open before rounding the now completely wrecked hood to get sarah out. he looks at the intersection to see the truck that plowed into them now blocking the center of the roadway.
“i-i can’t get out rafe. my leg is pinned. i-i think its okay though.” you’re not sure if your words are the truth, afterall, your head feels completely fine and judging from the blood you have to wipe away from your eye, its not.
“okay, shit.” tears stream down rafes face as he looks over you, allowing himself a split second of panic before he instantly begins to move in the crumpled truck, tearing at the bottom of his shirt until he’s able to pull off a chunk, moving it to your forehead and pushing against the cut despite your grimace.
“its okay.” rafe assures you softly. “ive got you. you’re okay. you’re okay.” the repeating words are partially for rafe as he reaches with his free hand to under the seat, feeling that your leg isn’t bleeding, just stuck at the ankle by a bar under the seat.
“call 911!” rafe yells, and sarah instantly pulls out her phone from her back pocket, glad it survived the crash.
“fuck-i-” tears form in your eyes as the pain sets in, as you see the panic in rafes face and realize how bad you must look. “im scared.”
“im scared too baby, but its gonna be okay, just stick with me.” rafe can’t help himself, he leans forward and presses a kiss to your cheek despite the sweat and drops of blood, he needs to reassure you that everything will be alright.
when rafe pulls away from the kiss, his eyes are blown wide, brows raised. “what is it?” you begin to squirm again.
“nothing, i got you.” rafe works to unbuckle his and then your seatbelt as the fabric of his shirt is now dyed completely red with your blood. he doesn’t want to tell you how shockingly cold and clammy your skin felt when he pressed a kiss against it.
“topper!” rafe shouts. “try to move this fucking seat!” rafe can’t just sit still, managing to push at it with one of his legs as topper pries at the seat, the sound of sirens approaching.
“see that, baby?” rafe looks at you, even able to tell in the dim lighting that your face has gone unnaturally pale. “help is coming, okay?”
it’s a fire truck that arrives first. they do a quick assessment of everyone at the scene before helping topper and rafe, who have not given up on moving the seat. they get it to budge just enough for you to pull your leg out with a sigh of relief as the ambulance arrives.
“come here.” rafe feels a pang of pain is side, but he ignores it as he climbs out of the car, pulling you into his arms. “she needs to go first.”
rafe knows eventually they’ll all get taken to the hospital, but you’re his priority.
“the other guys got a broken leg-” a firemen begins to explain to the emts as they lower the gurney.
“and hes the one that fucking hit us!” rafe shouts. “my girlfriends got a head injury, she’s going first.”
the emt takes one look at you and nods, motioning for rafe to lay you down. the emt instantly takes over, applying more gauze to your forehead but leaving the crumpled bit of rafes shirt there, hoping that it’s clotting underneath.
they raise the gurney up, rafe climbing in the back with you as a second ambulance pulls up, probably to take the other driver.
rafe tries to talk to you as the emt moves around the back of the ambulance, checking the rest of your body, grimacing slightly when she sees your ankle, which is already swelling and turning purple.
the ride and transfer into the hospital is a rush, and despite rafe not wanting to leave your side, you’re taken for further examination while he has to stay behind.
“sir, we should get you checked out too.” a nurse says softly, his voice too calming for rafe, which just causes the anger he’s been holding inside to bubble over.
“not until i know y/n is okay.” he says firmly, walking out of the waiting room before he can say another word or start punching shit and get himself kicked out. rafe moves towards a tree, pummeling his fists into the bark until they’re bloody and bruised.
with the anger now at a simmering level, rafe walks back into the emergency room entrance, looking for an update on your condition, only grunting his disapproval before slumping into one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs.
rafe doesn’t even realize that he’s fallen asleep until he's being shaken awake by topper.
“y/n.” rafe stands suddenly, cursing at himself for falling asleep in the first place, but his body crashed from the adrenaline.
“shes alright. the doctor just updated us.”
rafe walks past topper, noticing sarah sleeping in one of the other waiting room chairs, relieved to see that they're both fine and not admitted.
“room 1007.” topper calls out as rafe moves past the nurses station to find you.
you are still groggy as the medicine works it's way through your system, and the feeling of stitches on your head is an unusual weight against your skin, yet you still smile widely when rafe enters the room.
“im okay.” you confirm instantly as he rushes to the side of your bed.
“god,” rafe places his hand on your cheek, his gaze darting between your eyes and the gash on your forehead, looking a lot less serious now that the bleeding has stopped. “im so sorry baby.”
you shake your head. “i really am fine. this nice nurse was explaining to me that head injuries bleed a lot and always make it seem worse than it is. and my ankle is just bruised and sprained, not even broken.”
“you won't be using that ankle any time soon anyways.” rafe leans forward to press a gentle kiss against your cheek. “you're getting carried everywhere, i hope you know that.”
you laugh before suddenly stopping, watching as rafes face turns pale, a sheen of sweat seeking to suddenly appear over his face.
“rafe?” you watch as he blinks heavily, once, twice, then his eyes slide closed as he drops forward, landing on the bed, body completely slack.
“nurse! nurse! help!”
--
“ma’am, you should be resting in your own bed. you're still a patient here.”
you're well aware you're a patient, moving around the floor in your hospital gown and hauling the iv attached to your arm.
“ill rest when i know my boyfriend is okay.”
“he had internal bleeding and wasn't seen for hours after the crash. he's in surgery but it won't be short, we are being as thorough as possible to make sure he's going to be okay.” the nurse explains to you gently.
“ill go sit.” you say, mostly because you feel like your legs might give out at any moment, and you're tired of hopping around on your one good ankle. “but i will not be resting until i know rafe-”
a bell dings and cuts you off, the nurse rushing off without another word.
“shit.” you groan, just glad she ran off in the opposite direction of where rafe is in surgery.
you hop back to the waiting room and drop into the seat next to topper.
“im so sorry, y/n.” topper says, apologizing yet again.
“it wasn't your fault, top.” you shake your head. “he hit us out of nowhere, you couldn't have done anything.”
“maybe if id just gone a little slower-” you tune out whatever else topper is saying, stomach churning as you watch in waiting for an update on rafe.
--
“he's awake and asking for you.”
“thank god.” you jump up, cringing when you land on your hurt ankle.
“im taking you there in a wheelchair whether you like it or not.” the nurse whose been with you all night says. “but ill walk fast.”
you sit on the chair, needing to get to rafe as fast as possible, and you know the nurse understands just how much you need to see him as she rushes down the hallway.
“baby.” rafe is sat in bed, looking so much younger and vulnerable in that moment. “are you okay?”
“me?” you laugh and shake your head, moving to carefully sit on the bed next to him. “you just got out of surgery. you needed a blood transfusion.”
“mmm.” rafe shakes his head. “are you okay?” he asks again.
“yes.” you nod, tears coming to your eyes. “im okay now that you're okay. don't you ever put your health off again just for me.”
you lean forward and press your lips against rafes, kissing him softly even though he can barely manage to move his mouth to meet you.
“i love you.” you tell rafe. “and i don't want to live without you.”
“i love you too baby.” rafes cheeks stretch as he smiles, and your chest flutters with relief as the spark in his eyes comes back.
Summary: If it all fell apart—if you forgot who you were—would you love him again? Would the bond guide you back? Azriel doesn't know if that uncertainty is one he can bear.
Warnings: Angst, PINING, injury, references to nonconsensual situations
a/n: This series is in progress :) Thank you all for reading!!! ♡
drew and y/n at the obx3 red carpet. where they are at the afterparty and they forget that there are cameras everywhere and then they kiss and it leaks on the internet and everyone freaks out about it.
Unattended
drew starkey x fem reader fluff
Masterlist
A/n: absolutely melting at this interaction
Warnings: Suggestive if you squint
You stood at one of the high bar tables deep into the venue talking and laughing with JD when you felt a presence coming up from behind you. One that caused your heart rate to slow and the world to stop. As he stepped next to you, his fingers ghosted lightly and discreetly over your upper thigh covered by the silk dress you wore, yours, drew a slow line from his wrist until they tangled with his fingers briefly. In that moment, the sounds around you turned into an echo over which you could only hear your shallow breathing, mere seconds of intimacy that quickly ended once you remembered where you were and then you noticed Austin’s presence. He immediately placed his arm over JD’s shoulders and smiled at the two of you.
“We’re gonna let you two talk while we go for a drink, alright? Don’t do anything I wouldn't do” he joked.
“Definitely don’t” JD assured, before walking away with Austin.
“We won’t” You smiled, obviously glad that your friends and co-stars knew about the relationship.
Your eyes landed on Drew and you couldn’t help the smile that crawled onto your face, the way your eyes smiled too and shined as you looked back at him.
“Hi” he greeted shily.
“Hi” you repeated before you two chuckled at your behavior.
“You having fun?” he asked with that smile you looked forward to see constantly since the party started.
You hummed looking around, your eyes landed on people who were actually having fun “I am… i’m just looking forward to getting out of here, can’t stop thinking about it”
“Oh, yeah?” he smirked. You nodded, biting back a smile. One foot danced balancing on the heel of your shoe as your skin seemed to get hotter and your hold on your champagne glass, stronger.
“You were right, we should’ve changed in the same hotel room, maybe we would’ve had time to–”
He nodded, his lazy smirk making you dizzier than all of the alcohol in the venue could “I know, but you said we would’ve been late”
“And you know i was right but still, this is like torture and you look really good” you answered, the desperation in your voice didn’t go unnoticed.
He smiled “Thank you, so do you, beautiful” he discreetly leaned in “And you’re wearing that perfume i like so much so it seems to me like you’re the one torturing me”
“Mmm…well you weren’t supposed to get this close to me” you smiled up at him as he had barely pulled away.
“Can’t help it” with a delicate hold of his hand under your chin, his lips pressed lightly against yours in a tender kiss he tried to make last as long as possible. It was already bad that he was kissing you at the event but it would've been worse if he started making out with you.
From one side of the scene, JD and Austin almost choked on their drinks, eyes widening at what they witnessed. They both fumbled to leave their glasses at the bar and moved through the crowd to get to you and from the other, Madelyn pulled Madison away from a conversation and turned her attention to the short but surely intense kiss. Their eyes widened as they tried to walk as calmly fast as they could. When both pairs arrived at the table, you had already stepped from each other but were definitely still in the trance. You scratched a non existent inch behind your ear as you looked down at your drink, chuckling lightly. Although that lovely feeling was soon washed down by the two pairs standing in front of you.
“What the hell are you two doing?” asked JD frantically looking back to see if there were any phones raised in your direction. You and Drew looked at the other and just smiled like two kids caught doing something they shouldn’t.
“God Y/n, I thought you were with JD” exclaimed a very disappointed Madelyn.
You offered her a gritted-teeth apologetic smile “I was”
Austin lifted a finger “That might’ve been my fault–”
“Austin” warned Madison under her breath.
“I thought they would be fine! They have been apart the whole damn night! We just went to the bar for five minutes” he explained, while both you and Drew tried to conceal your laughs, they were more protective of your relationship than of their own.
“It’s fine I didn't see any phones.” added JD
Madison rolled her eyes as she pulled you away, you smiled innocently at Drew yet your eyes clouded by lust, conveyed something else “See you later”
He smiled “I’ll come find you”
Madelyn shook her head “No you won’t, not until this party is over”
Madison cursed under her breath as she glared at you because you couldn’t keep yourself from glancing back at Drew “God, we can’t leave you two unattended”
Turns out, JD was partially wrong. No one had seen you with their own eyes, sure, but the morning after, your fans noticed something in the background of someone else’s video of the night, they zoomed in as far as they could and reposted the video. The captions and comments were those of mixed feelings and opinions since the quality and length of the clip was questionable.
Drew and Y/n kissing at the OBX 3 premiere after party?
emeverett it’s honestly hard to tell, it could be anyone
↳ prsleyyluca5 it’s them!! I’ve seen photos of the party and Drew wore a dark suit and Y/n a navy blue dress
↳ aubryc.34 looks black to me. most of the women wore black dresses
levvy789 as delusional as i am wanting them both to date since season 1, by doing this y’all are just gonna mess up their friendship just like y’all did with rudy and madison’s
selahrea weren’t y’all the same ones preaching that he was dating Odessa three days ago??? 🤨 i can't keep up with y'all but if it's them i'm throwing a party at my house to celebrate 🥳‼️
umanelson whether it's them or not, that kiss looked so fucking intense i'm weak to my knees
↳alvarezzale that's what i'm sayinnnnn 😩
↳budstmaria the finger under her chin, i repeat THE FINGER UNDER HER CHIN
violetsamsonn i’m not believing this, she met paul mescal a few weeks ago, there’s still hope 🤞🙏
↳ evelyn.8morrisss they seemed to hit it off pretty good but only in a friendly way, Drew will treat her better
↳ maya0.lovesdrew friendly way?? she was all over him, just like she’s all over the guys in the cast
↳ lennah.pog me when i’m possessive, delusional, judgy, jealous and insecure:
floflo0764 they would look sooooo good together 😩
hayleycalle2 am i the only one who literally just sees two blobs of paint?
↳ zelievenin you’re not, trust me 😭
alorahenry people in these comments are chronically online like just leave them aloneee
Supernatural (Dean Winchester x Female!Reader) Masterlist Pt 1
(Y/n) (l/n) was trained by her father, who was a well-known monster hunter before he settled for the apple-pie life, after the death of her mother when she was very young. Now in the wake of her father's death, (y/n) has been going solo on the whole hunting buisness. That is until she meets up with the Winchester brothers and teams up with them. What could possibly go wrong?
Prompt: “You’ve changed, Eli. I barely even know who you are right now.”
A/N: WHEN I TELL YOU I AM SO EXCITED
Based off of: Cobra Kai 04x08, 04x09 and 04x10
Warnings: some swear words (because tumblr apparently doesn’t like that), poorly written fight scenes (i swear, i struggle so much)
Pairing: Eli Moskowitz x F!Reader
Summary: hi 👋🏼 I don’t know if you take any request now but I will still ask.. Can you write about the scene of the grocery when Conrad just lean on and take a sip (he was soo f hot ) and make it like more flirty and it can go like you want between Conrad x yn? thanks u ❣️
Warnings: Sexual references (Minors DNI)
Author’s Note: I’m not taking requests atm but this came through and I was inspired so maybe I am taking requests, we’ll never know xoxo
“This is the hottest it’s ever been I swear to God,” Conrad grumbles from the couch, hand resting on his chest.
“Well you try and fix the air con then, because it’s doing fucking nothing when we try,” Steven shrugs his shoulders, his head resting back against the seats of the couch from where he sat on the floor.
“You’re an engineer Steven, isn’t this like your job?” Belly points out, dragging her hair away from her face.
The air conditioning in the house had been out all morning and the temperature had been slowly rising with the sun. Now, it was stifling hot inside the house and just as bad outside too. And, clearly, the group were at their wit’s end.
“Okay, can we please stop talking about it? Like, can we talk about anything else?” You roll your eyes, your back against the couch where Conrad was laying, your head mere inches from his.
The two of you had been friends for years, ever since Belly and Steven had started coming to the summer house, you had too. The group of you were always inseparable whenever you were all in Cousins. But, before this summer, you and Conrad had realised your feelings for each other. He’d started calling you every night, texting you more and more often, and eventually the two of you spoke to each other more than anyone else. You’d both agreed, however, that is was not worth the drama for the rest of the group to know that anything was going on. You’d kept things completely private and, so far, it worked.
You’d turned up to the summer house this year terrified to see him again, and when you had done, it was like there was a weird tension that you’d never known before. There were sparks whenever he looked at you, electricity coursing through you whenever you briefly touched. You hadn’t even kissed the boy and yet all you could think about was doing so. It was driving you insane.
“Well, what else do you want to talk about, (y/l/n)?” He turns his head so that it is facing you but you keep your gaze averted away, worried he’ll make you blush.
“Anything,” You groan, “Like, seriously, it’s making it worse if all we talk about is how hot we are.”
He smirks, “You think you’re hot, (y/n)?”
You whip your head around to face him and roll your eyes, “Grow up, Con.”
His smirk remains, eyes trailing over your face as the conversation grows behind you. Jere and Belly were agreeing on getting into the pool and Steven was refusing to join them under the premise that he couldn’t find any swimming shorts in his suitcase.
“How about we head to the store?” Conrad suggests, pushing himself up to sit on the couch, “We can get some cold drinks, some ice cream, anything remotely cold.”
The group all sound into chorus of agreement and you nod too.
“Yeah, just get anything they’ve got,” You encourage, watching as he swings his legs over the side of the couch so that he’s sat next to you now, his knee bumping your shoulder.
“Oh, you’re coming with me,” He nudges you, “I need someone to help me push the cart.”
Conrad stretches out a hand to you and waits for you to take it.
“Right because that’s definitely a two person job,” You roll your eyes, taking the grip of his hand and pushing yourself up from the floor.
“Oh, absolutely it is,” Conrad shrugs his shoulders, walking out of the lounge towards the front door, grabbing his car keys on the way.
———
You sit in the passenger seat and he sets his hand behind your chair as he reverses, the air con in his car blasting enough for you to both cool down.
“Why didn’t we think of coming in your car earlier?” You question, glancing out of the window at the changing street beside you.
Conrad turns his head in your direction, “Because then they’d all want to come.”
You nod in agreement and fall silent, fiddling with your hands in your lap.
“So, has anyone said anything about…”
“What? Me and you?” You finish the sentence for him, “Why? Do you think they know?”
Conrad smirks a little, “Jere told me that sometimes you talk in your sleep and he can hear you through his wall.”
You frown just slightly, cogs turning in the expectation of what he was about to say.
“Apparently he heard you call my name,” Conrad fully grins then, turning the car into another corner as he approaches the store.
You feel your face heat up more than the sun was capable of, your heart sinking a little, “I did… I mean he heard… what?”
Conrad chuckles gently and his hand moves from the wheel to squeeze your leg, “Oh come on, (y/l/n), I already knew you were obsessed with me.”
You clench your jaw and look away from him, the embarrassment seeping through you. He squeezes your bare leg again and keeps his hand there as he pulls into a space in the parking lot.
“Okay I’ll get a cart and I’ll meet you at the checkout,” You nod, taking a deep breath to relatively compose yourself as you get out of the car.
Conrad follows behind you, fighting back the smile on his face. He walks up behind you as you go to get a cart, his arms dropping to either side of your hands on the handle, thumbs brushing your pinky fingers.
“See, Ive just got so many questions,” He mumbles the words into your ear as his chin drops to your shoulder.
You feel a tingle go over your spine and quickly step out from underneath his arm, “And I won’t be answering them.”
Conrad persists, of course, pushing the cart into the store and following your every move.
You both take a silent sigh of relief at the feeling of the air con in the store, walking a little slower as if to revel in it for as long as possible.
“Okay, so what was this dream about?” Conrad asks, stopping the cart as you throw in a few items from the produce section.
You make brief eye contact with him in the coldest glare you can muster, “Con, I said we’re not talking about this.”
“I mean, it must’ve been pretty good for you to be calling my name,” He points out nonchalantly, throwing a few bags into the cart, “So, tell me what it was about?”
You spin on your heel and grip the end of the cart, squeezing down on the plastic as you look at him, “Conrad, I don’t remember, okay? Now can we please drop this because you’re being an asshole.”
He raises his hands as if in a gesture of surrender before placing them back on the cart and following you still in your slow steps around the aisles.
Conrad didn’t need to know to boost his ego, or to use it against you. He needed to know because the thought of you thinking of him like that made him feel like a kid with his first crush. He was infatuated, and his curiosity was getting the better of him.
Things were awkward between the two of you now, and neither was willing to break the tension with any form of conversation.
You were embarrassed, of course you were. The chemistry between the pair of you had been sky high since you’d arrived back in Cousins - all of the awaited feelings of seeing each other again had come bubbling to the surface. And yet neither of you could do anything about it. So there it stayed - bubbling wildly on a surface that would not release. Of course you were thinking about him, how could you not be?
“Okay, you get the ice and pay for this, I’ll meet you at the car,” You nod, holding your shoulders a little more sure of themselves.
“Oh, so I’m paying?” Conrad raises his brows, stopping in his tracks with a bag of ice in his hands.
“Your daddy’s credit card will,” You taunt in response, disappearing around the corner of another aisle to leave him to his own devices.
Minutes later, Conrad appears through the sliding doors of the store, the fully loaded cart bumping in the parking lot in front of him. You’re stood by the car, waiting for him, two large drink cups in your hands.
“And what’s this?” He nods his head a little towards the drinks, eyes returning back to yours.
“A peace offering,” You shrug your shoulders, “I’m sorry I got annoyed about you asking about… I just, I was embarrassed and I didn’t want you to think I was some weird stalker that was obsessed with you or something.”
Conrad laughs gently, the kind of laugh that always manages to ease your worry. He steps out from around the cart so that he’s mere inches from you.
“You know,” He lowers his torso down to take a slow sip from the drink, darkened eyes staring up at you as he does, “If you wanted to be screaming my name in the night, you should’ve just asked.”
Your mouth falls agape slightly as all words seem to escape you.
“Come on, I’ll load this up before the ice cream starts melting,” He clears his throat, as if nothing had happened, “Get in the car.”
You oblige and sit in the passenger seat waiting for him as he piles the bags into the trunk, climbing into the driver’s seat shortly after.
He reaches over to take his cup from your hand and his fingers brush yours - still electric as you repeat over the words he’d just said.
“So, home?”
You hum in agreement and keep your eyes focused on the road ahead of you as he reverses out of the spot, unable to hide the smile tearing at your face.
———
“We’re back!” Conrad calls out as the two of you head inside, arms full of brown paper bags.
“Thank god!” Jere exclaims, grabbing a couple of the bags from you to alleviate the weight, “Successful trip?”
You and Conrad exchange a quiet glance before looking back and both saying at the same time, “Yeah.”
Jeremiah frowns at you and his brother, “You two are weird.”
He helps to unpack the shopping before turning back to both of you.
“Hey, Con, did you ask (y/n) about her dre-“
“Grow up Jere,” Conrad snaps quickly, throwing the last bag of ice into the freezer.
You look at him and smile a little to yourself, averting your eyes back to the drink in your hand.
Jeremiah rolls his eyes at his brother and disappears out of the kitchen, leaving just the two of you once more.
“Here, they’ve not melted yet,” Conrad pulls an ice pop from one of the boxes and unwraps it, handing it to you.
You set down your drink and take hold of the wooden stick. Now was your chance to get him back. You make sure you’re stood as close as you can get to him, your eyes gazing upwards to focus on his. And you stick out your tongue, drawing it from the bottom to the top of the cold ice, not once breaking eye contact with Conrad as you pop the top in between your lips and suck gently before pulling away.
You watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows the lump in his throat, and find yourself hiding back a grin at your obvious effect on him.
“What’s wrong Connie?” You ask him through batted eyelashes, “You look all… flustered.”
It’s almost as if you see the second that the cogs turn in his brain as his hands stretch out to grip your waist, both tightening to lift you up and onto the kitchen counter behind you.
And then, without a second thought, his hand grips your face and he pulls you in to kiss him. It’s rushed at first and overly fueled by passion but you don’t care. He can taste the sweetness on your lips and it only seems to encourage him more, kissing you like he’d been waiting to do so for years. His hand tightens once more on your waist, pulling you into him as closely as he can as your hands grip onto his shoulders.
Conrad pulls away then, only breaking contact at your lips to catch his breath as his forehead rests against yours.
“Don’t tease me,” He grumbles quietly, his lips plump in the absence of you.
You chuckle a little, nudging his head a little more, “From what just happened there, maybe I should be teasing you more often.”
Conrad smirks and pulls away, standing up straight as both of his hands settle on either side of you on the counter. He glances behind you at where the large glass doors lead out to the garden, “You know, nobody’s actually in the house.”
You turn over your shoulder to catch a glimpse, “Yeah, looks like it’s just us.”
He takes the opportunity as you’re turned away to kiss at the exposed skin of your neck, his touch hotter than any weather was capable of.
You let out a quiet moan and grip the back of his head. Damn, he was good at this.
“Connie-“ You hum, pushing into him as closely as you can.
He smirks against you and pulls away, eyes widening slightly at the mark left on your skin from his lips.
“We should probably join the rest,” You comment, dragging your fingers through his hair.
He flutters his eyes closed at the contact and sighs, “Five more minutes.”
Conrad leans in to kiss you again but stops as he hears;
“Conrad! Can you bring the ice pops out?” It’s Stephen yelling to the pair of you.
You look at Conrad and laugh a little, hopping down from the countertop, “Come on, before they suspect anything.”
“I think that mark on your neck will make them suspect enough.”
You bend down to take the ice pop box from the freezer and reach one hand behind your head to untie your hair, letting it fall around your shoulders.
“There we go, it’s like it never happened,” You wiggle your eyebrows and saunter outside towards the garden.
Conrad watches as you go, a smile on his face before his eyes drop to the barely-touched ice pop you’d both discarded onto the counter.
summary: you come back to cousins beach after a few years away. conrad is not particularly happy that you're back - and you aren't particularly thrilled, either. too bad there's a history (chemistry?) neither of you can deny.
warnings: drinking + smoking. lots of plot + flashbacks. there is some mention of injuries, body issues/self esteem (reader is a competitive swimmer), complicated family dynamics (reader is eldest daughter), slight allusion to alcoholism.
a/n: ohhh this turned out much longer than i expected it to be!! honestly i have so many ideas that this will probably become a series. for now please enjoy the summer, childhood friends to lovers to strangers vibes ;)
you still crave lemonade, but the taste doesn't satisfy you as much as it used to. you still crave summer, but sometimes you mean summer, five years ago. (alida nugent)
now — summer, age 18
driving up to the beach house after so many summers have passed, you’re struck with the memory of your first time swimming.
it was mid-june in cousins; you must have been four years old. you stood on the edge of the pool for an eternity, until your father became impatient and threw you into the deep end. you screamed, imagined your lungs being filled with cold water, drowning in darkness. your neighbour had run over when he heard, and your father had to hold him back from jumping in to save you. instead, your life jacket kept you afloat, and soon enough you were kicking as though it was the most natural thing in the world. you discovered your love of swimming that afternoon and in that your father found his star athlete. you also realized your love for conrad fisher, the boy next door.
your summers in cousins, the friends you’d met here, conrad fisher — these composed your metaphorical lifejacket, once preserving your childhood. you’d taken it off for too long, spent years in the deep end alone, keeping yourself afloat, moving towards a carefully constructed future. now it all started to crumble, and here you were again, a different person; you wondered if the others were different, too.
it wasn't your first choice to come back to cousins, but you were determined to make the most of it. after unpacking your things, you decide to make your way to the beck house, right next door to your own family’s.
you knock once, twice, three times. there's no answer, so you figure that everyone is either in town or at the beach. you start to walk away when you hear the front door open.
"excuse me!" laurel park's voice calls. you turn around, and the shock on laurel's face is clear. "y/n! oh my god, i almost didn't recognize you!"
"four summers can do that," you note.
you hear your name from inside the house, and before you know it, belly conklin excitedly runs out and tackles you in a hug.
"hey, bells," you laugh. you notice how dressed up she is, something that changed from the oversized t-shirts and patterned shorts you remember her always wearing. "cute dress. where are you off to?"
"oh. there's a high tea at the country club. sort of like an introduction for the debutante season."
you raise an eyebrow, looking past belly towards laurel. "is this a lemon jelly belly situation?" you’re referring to the code phrases you used to exchange for different situations, depending on different flavours of jelly beans: pear, toasted marshmellow, lemon. it might have been childish (you were kids at the time), but it always worked. more than anyone, you know what it’s like to be pushed into something too quickly, too soon. even after all these years, and even though belly is only two years younger, your instinct is to defend her at all times.
"possibly," laurel sighs.
"it's not," belly insists, giving her mother a pointed look. "i wanted to try something new this summer, and susannah promised it would be fun."
the two of you walk back towards the house. when you reach the door, laurel brings you into a tight hug. the three of you walk into the kitchen, and you find yourself taking the seat you had once claimed as your own — a stool at the counter, third from the left. belly settles down next to you, and laurel grabs a pitcher of sweet tea from the fridge while you reach over to take three glasses from the drying rack.
belly explains more about the debutante season, and mentions that steven and jeremiah are both working at the club this summer. she doesn't get around to what conrad is up to, because laurel suddenly checks her watch, then sighs.
"i hate to cut this reunion short, but belly, we'd better leave if we want to make that tea of yours."
"right." belly looks at you with a frown, like she's worried you'll disappear if you're out of sight. "i'll see you later?"
you smile, reaching over to squeeze her hand. "i'll be here all summer," you promise, and belly beams.
"you’re coming to my book party?" laurel asks, though it's more of a statement than a question.
"yeah, sure," you promise, sipping your sweet tea. "i'll see you guys there."
with one final see you later and another hug from belly, you're left alone in the kitchen. you wonder if the fishers still keep the cereal in the same cabinet; if their cupboards are filled with the same sugary snacks you were never allowed to have, but you and the boys would sneak when the adults weren’t looking.
"y/n, my little mermaid, is that you?"
susannah always called you her little mermaid — inspired by your love of swimming, yes, but also that one summer you were convinced that mermaids were real, so you and belly spent hours looking for clues on the beach and painting your nails iridescent turquoise. all the adults scoffed at you, but susannah was the only one who played along, who allowed you to believe that magic was real.
instantly, you rise from your seat and hug susannah.
"you have no idea how happy i am that you're here this summer," susannah whispers. as you break away from your hug, susannah places her hands on your cheeks. she looks happy and healthy, if a little tired. you can't help but think of the years you’d been gone when susannah and her family were dealing with so much. there was only so much connection texts, calls, and emails could provide. to be here now, seeing susannah fisher alive and well?
it was almost too much.
tears threaten to spill, but you swallow them. instead, you reply: "so am i." and, certainly more than before, you mean it.
“conrad’s out back if you want to come say hi. i’m painting his portrait. he’s been a bit down lately, but if anyone can make him feel better, it’s you.”
you feel your cheeks heat up. you finish the rest of your sweet tea and put your glass in the dishwasher, not quite feeling ready to face conrad — there was a complicated history between the two of you. unresolved tension, hurtful words, that sort of thing.
“i’ll, uh, let you keep painting. i should go get ready for laurel’s book party.”
“alright. i’ll see you there, sweetie.”
“yeah,” you confirm. you start to walk away before hearing susannah’s voice again:
“and, y/n?” you turn around. “i’m so glad you’re home.”
later that night, at laurel's book launch party, you watch conrad pour another glass of wine, and wonder whether or not you should join him. his eyes catch yours from across the room, but he quickly looks away. belly ended up having a date, she'd texted you earlier, and you were roped into a conversation with your mother and susannah before you could find stephen or jeremiah.
"they grow up so fast," susannah muses. she then wraps an arm around your shoulder. "i can't believe that our eldests are 18! conrad’s off to brown in the fall — how about you, y/n?”
“princeton,” your mother boasts, draining the rest of her cup and grabbing another from a tray passing by. that’s her third glass, by your count. “we were so proud. it’s the best women’s swim team in the country.”
“stanford is a close second,” you interject. “besides, we don’t even know if i can start swimming for real by then.”
you’d broken your ankle a month and a half before. it didn’t need surgery yet and you were out of your cast, but you couldn’t return to your usual level of activity for a while — which meant no training camp, like you’d been going to the past few summers.
“you know, i did always picture you on the west coast,” susannah smiles at you. “all those beaches and sunshine.”
your mother frowns, ignoring susannah. “don’t be ridiculous. if you spend the summer doing your physical therapy and resting, you’ll be back in the water before we know it. your father and i agreed — that’s why you’re here.”
you resist the urge to argue with her and instead block her out as she brags about your siblings getting top prizes in their academic decathalon. the twins were thirteen now and had plans with their friends tonight, sparing them from attending this event. no offence to laurel or susannah, of course, but you’d rather be with your friends.
when you look for conrad once more, you notice that he's been roped into a conversation with laurel and someone who your mom had pointed out as cleveland castillo. even after all these years, you can tell when he needs backup: the impatient tapping of his foot, his eyes searching the room for an out.
after excusing yourself from the conversation, you make your way over to conrad.
"hey," you greet, nodding at laurel and cleveland. "mind if i borrow this guy? we've got some catching up to do." if either laurel or cleveland said anything more after yes, then you don't hear them, already pulling conrad away.
you lead him to the back corner of the room, near a small couch. neither of you make a move to sit; neither of you say anything. up close, you could see the shadows under his eyes, the creases in between his brows. he was always quiet, the more calm and thoughtful one of the group, but always with soft edges, especially when it came to you. now, quiet could have been replaced with brooding, and all those soft edges seem sharper.
“so,” you start. you grab the wine from conrad’s hand and take a sip. “are you gonna keep ignoring me, or are you gonna welcome me back?”
“when my mom said you were back, i didn’t believe her.” conrad looks at you, his face still. “i wish you hadn’t come back.”
stung, you take a deep breath. after everything, conrad thought that was the best way to greet you? if cold and closed off was how conrad wanted to act, you could play that game, too.
“fuck you,” is all you say before joining jeremiah and steven on the other side of the room.
steven’s eyes widen once they land on you. "no fucking way. y/n!" steven exclaims. "thought you'd never come back here, man." there’s a joyful undertone to his comment as he smiles. same old steven: always blunt, always laughing.
"yeah, well, i’m here.”
jeremiah just beams at you, picking you up and spinning you around.
“jere,” you giggle, half scolding, fully floating.
“sorry, sorry!” he laughs, setting you down. “i just — i can’t believe you’re here. how come you didn’t tell me you were coming?”
“yeah, well.” you shrug. “i thought you liked surprises.”
“well, i do. especially if it involves seeing you.”
"yo, speaking of surprises — what if we ditch this party and surprise belly at the drive-in?" stephen suggests.
you shake your head, though leaving was very tempting.
"or, instead of ruining your sister's first date, we get some booze, light a fire, and go get drunk on the beach," you suggest.
"oh, i am so down!" jeremiah exclaims. "you've got my vote."
“hell yeah.” steven grins and throws his arm around your shoulder. "you always did know how to show us a good time."
then — summer, age 11
you had plenty of bonfires before, on the beach with your parents, but that summer marked the first one with just the kids. you begged and begged, and eventually the adults were okay with it since conrad had earned his boy scout badge for fire safety in the spring.
it was the beginning of july, and an unseasonably cold evening — basically, perfect bonfire weather. jeremiah helped susannah make hot chocolate for everyone. belly wanted s'mores, so you had biked with her to the store earlier that day for the ingredients. everyone was stuffing their faces with slightly burnt marshmallows as melted chocolate and graham cracker crumbs decorated your cheeks, and you chased it all down with lukewarm chocolatey liquid. you were kids and it was summer; life was sweet, life was good.
"conrad," steven announced, turning to the boy who was pushing a marshmallow deeper into the fire. "i dare you to go dunk in the ocean." a grin erupted on steven's face, and in the glow of the fire, he looked like the cheshire cat.
"no way, man. it's freezing."
you knew the real reason conrad didn't want to go into the ocean. one night the week before, when the parents were out to dinner and the other kids were asleep, you and conrad had stayed up to watch jaws together, having rented it secretly from the local video store. ever since, conrad had been coming up with excuses to not go swimming at the beach.
"what's the matter, con? you scared?" jeremiah taunted, wearing a similar cheshire grin to steven’s.
"what?" the marshmallow conrad was trying to roast fell into the fire. he huffed, and belly handed him another one. "i'm not scared. it's just freezing."
"come on, man. you’ve gotta do it. besides, there's a fire and hot cocoa here for you when you get back," jeremiah reasoned. ten-year-old jeremiah was never very concerned about following the rules, except when it came to truth or dare.
"i'm good," conrad snapped.
"aw, i think he's scared," steven laughed.
"i'm not scared —"
"what if i went with you?" you interrupted him.
"but it's not your dare," belly pointed out as she continued carefully assembling a s'more. nine-year-old belly was competitive, so it was very important to her that the rules of any game were followed.
"yeah, but if connie —"
"is scared," jeremiah coughed under his breath.
"wants company," you continued, ignoring jeremiah. "then, it'll be more fun, right?" you were a mix between jere and belly: you were competitive, but you didn’t particularly care about following the rules. especially when it came to your friends, even more when it came to conrad.
conrad smiled at you softly. "right."
reluctantly, jeremiah, belly and steven agreed to the terms of the dare. you removed your beach cover up, and conrad his shirt, leaving you both in your swimsuits, dry even with swimming in the pool a few hours before. you ran to the water, pulling conrad with you. you stopped at the edge of the sand, waves tickling your feet and the light, and warmth, of the bonfire a recent memory. it was much cooler here, closer to the water.
"ready?"
conrad nodded once. "ready."
hands still clasped together, you jumped into the ocean, leaving the comfort of the shore behind.
now
jeremiah finds stale marshmallows in the kitchen and steven makes a bonfire on the stretch of beach between your two houses. you head home to change out of your silk mini skirt and back into denim cutoffs. you switch your cream blouse for a short-sleeved button down, left open over your favourite bralette. when you get back to the beach, the boys have invited some people over, most of whom you don't recognize.
"here," jeremiah hands you a lukewarm beer, which you accept gratefully. then, he throws an arm around your shoulder. "come on, there's some people i want you to meet."
jeremiah introduces you to a few guys he works with at the club, and some girls who are doing the deb thing with belly.
"jeremiah mentioned you’re a swimmer." gigi, one of the debs, smiles, eyeing the way jeremiah leans against you. "what's that like?"
the girls all wait expectantly for you to answer.
"intense," you decide. you leave it at that. the fire flickers a few feet away, vibrant and alive.
you want nothing more than to go back to those summer nights when you were kids. you want belly to be looking at the stars for elaborate constellations while jeremiah burns marshmallows to a crisp. you want steven to be laughing and making outrageous, impossible dares. you want the five of you together, huddled around a small fire that conrad had carefully crafted. you want conrad to be okay.
"i hear that competitive sports can like, really fuck with a girl's self-esteem and body image," gigi continues. you don't necessarily think she means it as an insult, and it's certainly not anything you haven't heard (or felt) before, but you still bristle.
"like i said: intense," you answer cooly.
"hey, man, when are we gonna get the marshmallows going?" steven suddenly appears, his face slightly flushed. he holds hands with shayla, who, as jeremiah pointed out earlier, steven is dating.
"in a bit. i asked con to pick up chocolate and graham crackers for s'mores." jeremiah looks around before saying: "speaking of: look who's here!"
jeremiah runs off to meet his brother, while you stay back and take a sip of your beer.
"looks like he brought nicole, too," steven observes.
who the fuck is nicole?
nicole, you learn as the group sits around the bonfire and roasts marshmallows, is the girl conrad is either dating or hooking up with. jeremiah isn't quite sure.
the night grows darker. the air is warm with smoke from marshmallows roasting, the smell of burnt sugar dancing around. people start to leave to go to other parties, and soon enough it's only steven, shayla, nicole, conrad, jeremiah, and you. having less people around made it harder for you to ignore conrad. nicole is nice and pleasant to talk to, but you can't help but feel something churn in your stomach when you see how close nicole and conrad are to each other. plus, she's wearing a red sox cap, and you know for a fact that conrad hates the red sox, unless that obviously fundamental part of his personality changed too.
jeremiah must have noticed, because he suggests a drinking game for the group to ease the tension.
"never have i ever gotten a tattoo."
you’re the only one to take a sip of your drink.
"i meant a real one," steven rolls his eyes.
"i do have a real tattoo." you remove the button down and point to the left side of your rib cage.
the others take a closer look, except conrad, of course. he was always an expert at pretending not to care, but so were you. tonight is a prime example: since the bonfire, you hadn't said a word to each other.
"why a starfish?" nicole asks. she leans further into conrad’s arms.
you look at conrad, briefly, then shrug. "i like the beach."
the game continues until the fire dies down, and you’re left with a burning sensation from conrad glancing in your direction, at the starfish etched on your skin.
then — summer, age 13
"that's disgusting," steven said, scrunching his nose.
"no, steven, that's friendship," you replied, just as jeremiah leaned over to take more from your cup, and vice versa.
"right, friendship." belly raised her eyebrow at you, and you rolled your eyes in response. you then decided to take an interest in your formerly white sneakers (after so many summers, they were now decorated with sand and sea water and permanent marker doodles. your mother hated them.)
that summer, belly became convinced that jeremiah had a crush on you. she said that he was absolutely lovestruck and that you were too blinded by years of being best friends with him to notice. jeremiah had made you promise not to tell belly the hilarious irony of the situation — that it was belly he so clearly loved.
"see, steven. friendship can be sweet!" jeremiah grinned, chewing the chunk of bubble gum he had fished from your cup. that was the type of cheesy thing only jeremiah could say and make others laugh unironically.
years before, when you were just kids, you and jeremiah believed you had solved the most complicated problem in the world. you loved bubble gum ice cream, but hated the bubble gum chunks. jeremiah loved bubble gum chunks, and didn't care if the flavor clashed with his favorite rainbow sherbert because he loved you even more (platonically, of course).
during the whole interaction, conrad was silent, looking out towards the beach.
the five of you had walked to the nearest ice cream shop (there was no baskin robbins in cousins, but some nautical themed place with 50 flavors and unlimited toppings). you decided to come back and sit on the porch of the fisher house (where there was a decent amount of shade) rather than on the beach. it was one of the hottest afternoons of the summer, late july, when the sun was at its peak. those who'd been coming to cousins their whole lives knew that being at the beach in such weather was only good for swimming.
you glanced at conrad, who took another bite (an actual bite) of his chocolate ice cream. he was sitting on the railing instead of the stairs like the rest of you, so you had to crane your neck slightly. you tapped his ankle, which was decorated with a temporary tattoo. the night before, the two of you had found a few left over from when you were kids and, having a sugar rush from too much cream soda and root beer (and maybe stolen sips of sangria when the adults weren't looking), decided it would be hilarious to see if the tattoos still worked. so, conrad had a cartoonish-looking shark on his ankle, and you had a similarly cartoonish-looking starfish on your arm.
"you okay, connie?" you asked. you only got a nod and a small smile in response. more and more, as summer crept on, conrad would be laughing, loud and lively, one second (exhibit A: using those temporary tattoos the night before was his idea -- we don't want them to go to waste, y/n, he grinned mischievously) and the next he'd be silent, closed off (exhibit B: since you came back from your ice cream excursion, he'd barely said a word).
even though you couldn't really read minds, you had an aching feeling that you knew what conrad was thinking in that moment, because you’d been thinking it, too: time was passing too quickly. in a few days, it would already be august, and september was just around the corner. the summer - your childhood - was as temporary as yours and conrad’s tattoos: vibrant and saturated, slightly faded, then gone.
"i wanna go swimming. anyone wanna join me at the beach?" jeremiah suddenly asked.
"i've gotta pick up the twins from day camp, but i'll try to meet you guys later." you knew that wasn't true though — things were getting more and more tense between your parents, your father storming out angrily after useless arguments and your mother passing out on the couch after one too many glasses of wine. someone needed to watch your siblings, and neither of your parents seemed pressed to find an actual babysitter.
"i'll stay with you," conrad said.
belly and steven took jeremiah up on his offer. once the other three were gone, you stood up. "scooch over." conrad shifted slightly and you went to join him on the railing, your knees practically knocking together.
"so. did the tattoo help you get over your fear of sharks?"
conrad took another bite of his ice cream, this time with a giant chunk of chocolate. "i don't fear sharks," he replied. then, he turned to you and shrugged. "i just respect them, you know?"
you bumped your shoulder against conrad's. "right. you respect them so much that you avoid the ocean at all costs."
conrad smirked. "says the girl who avoids eating on the beach because she's scared of seagulls!"
you were laughing, teasing each other, not caring that your ice cream was melting, when mr. fisher opened the front door, car keys in hand.
"oh, hey kids. we were wondering where you were."
"we went to scoops ahoy," you explained. you took a bite of your ice cream and resisted the urge to spit it out once you realized that it had a chunk of bubble gum in it.
"better watch the ice cream, huh, y/n?" mr. fisher said, smiling like he said the funniest thing in the world. he patted his stomach to further his point. "if you want to keep up at those swim meets."
you suddenly froze, mid bite. you cleared your throat and dropped the spoon back in your half-empty cup, suddenly queasy.
"dad," conrad said, not raising his voice, but definitely irritated. "what the actual fuck."
"language, conrad," mr. fisher scolded. without another word, he got in his car and drove away.
"he shouldn't have said that," conrad said instantly.
"it's fine," you replied, too quickly to be true. you set down your ice cream between you and conrad. "it's nothing my own father hasn't said to me."
being a teenage girl was brutal, and competitive swimming amplified that, especially the older you got. there was always someone faster, someone more skilled, someone better. ice cream churned in your stomach at the thought. was your father right: had you wasted your summer, not practicing your technique and stuffing your face with sugary treats?
conrad picked up your ice cream and handed it to you. he then took the spoon from his own cup, and stated: "fuck dads who are jerks."
you couldn't help but smile. somehow, he always knew what to say to make you believe that you weren't alone, that things would be okay no matter how fucked up the world was.
"fuck dads who are jerks," you echoed, raising your spoon.
"and,” conrad paused. he looked at you with gentle eyes. “to always being there for each other."
you smiled at him, heart soaring. "to always being there for each other."
you clinked your spoons together, and ate your ice cream, and shifted closer so your legs pressed together — and it didn't feel like a temporary promise.
now
you always loved mornings in cousins. the beach was particularly beautiful at sunrise, the water at its most peaceful.
the morning after the bonfire, you need that peacefulness to wash over you. as quietly as you can to avoid waking up the rest of your family, you make a fresh pot of coffee and pour some into your favourite mug. it’s from the rainforest cafe: bright green with a cartoon frog on it. you brought it back from a swim meet in niagara falls when you were 10, and got one for the fishers as well. theirs was orange with a cartoon iguana. conrad would use it all the time; you imagine it collecting dust in the kitchen cupboard now.
you make your way down to the beach, and notice someone already sitting at your usual spot by the water.
conrad doesn’t say anything when you sit next to him. he’s wearing a red hoodie over his clothes from last night, a cigarette tucked behind his ear. he glances at you as you sip your drink.
“morning,” he whispers.
you shiver, and not just from the cool morning air. you’re reminded of the last time conrad spoke to you so softly, the last time you’d caught an early morning sunrise together. such a contrast to where you are now.
“morning,” you finally reply.
as the sound of waves fills the silence between you, conrad lights his cigarette and takes a puff. then, he hands it to you. in turn, you offer him your mug. a peace offering — you both accept. the space between you becomes open, comfortable.
“since when do you smoke?” you exhale, letting the smoke warm your lungs.
conrad takes a long sip of coffee, looking out towards the ocean. “since i quit football.”
“i thought you loved football.”
“i loved it,” conrad answers. he takes another sip, then gives the mug back to you. “i don’t love it anymore.”
you take another drag of the cigarette. your fingers brush against his when you return it to him.
“once you love something, you never really unlove it,” you muse, even though you know exactly what he means — when it comes to sports.
“don’t misquote spirited away at me,” he laughs, and you can’t help but smile. the first time you'd watch that movie was when you were 8. all the kids crowded into the den of the fisher house on a rainy day. susannah prepared an impressive spread of candy, popcorn, and soda for you all. you drank dr. pepper from a twizzler straw and cried when chihiro reunited with haku.
conrad glances at you and the sunshine highlights his smile, his brown hair, the hazel of his eyes. golden, radiant.
you shiver again, looking away. before you know it, you feel something draped across your shoulders.
“i’m not sure nicole would like it if i was wearing your hoodie.” you joke, but your words are laced with a bitterness you hope conrad doesn’t catch. unlucky for you, conrad knew you too well.
“you don’t get to do that,” he snaps.
“do what?”
conrad scoffs. “be jealous.”
“well, you don’t get to tell me how to feel.”
“so, you are jealous?”
you exhale sharply; you can practically feel the wall between you two reappear.
“it’s too early, con. and i’m too hungover to deal with this.”
there’s nothing more left to say. you get up, throw his hoodie on the sand, and walk back towards your house, the beach and conrad further away with every step you take.
it makes sense that way: you were always the one to leave first.
summary: you come back to cousins beach after a few years away. conrad is not particularly happy that you're back - and you aren't particularly thrilled, either. too bad there's a history (chemistry?) neither of you can deny.
warnings: lots of plot + flashbacks. angst with fluff in betweem. slightly suggestive dialogue/situations but nothing more than the actual show, a guy being pushy about hooking up with reader but nothing happens, mention of injuries and blood throughout, hints of alcoholism, brief mention of dieting (reader is competitive swimmer and deals with certain pressures from that), reader gets her period, takes on too much responsibility and argues with her mother (aka eldest daughter syndrome)
a/n: thank you thank you thank you for so much love on my first conrad fic!! i'm so excited to share the rest of the series, so stay tuned :))
read part one here
the best friends of our childhoods are the loves of our lives, and they break our hearts in the worse ways. (fredrik backman)
now — summer, age 18
you throw in some extra sprinkles, along with a few more tablespoons of sugar. belly has a huge sweet tooth. it's the night before her birthday, and you're in the kitchen at the fisher's house baking her coconut confetti cupcakes.
born on june 21st — the summer solstice — belly conklin is the definition of a summer child. she's summer, personified: sunshine, sweet tea, sand, and smiles. having missed so many birthday celebrations, you’re determined to make this year special.
you go to the fridge to grab some eggs, and when you close the door, you're startled by the person standing behind it.
"what are you doing here?" you ask, holding a hand to your chest and setting the carton of eggs on the counter. the joy you felt making birthday cupcakes for belly fades away, replaced with a tingling in your chest. you and conrad hadn’t spoken more than three sentences to each other, or even been in the same room alone, since that morning on the beach. as the distance between the two of you grew, so did your frustration at him.
conrad raises his eyebrow at you. he reaches around you into the fridge and pulls out a beer.
"i should be asking you that."
"the oven at my house is broken and your mom said i could come over."
“i’ve heard that one before,” he mumbles as he leaves the kitchen. you almost can’t believe he brought it up, even if just in a passing, somewhat snarky remark. conrad probably thought you didn’t hear.
these past few weeks, conrad hasn't just been cold towards you — which was a relief as much as it was heart wrenching. he seems more closed off in general, more inclined to spend time with others who hadn't seen him grow up. in fact, you imagine he’s on his way to see nicole now. maybe with her, he can pretend everything is fine. but not with the people in this house, who knew him inside and out.
you would never admit it — if conrad wants to ignore you, you could ignore him just fine — but it was eating you up inside, and it took everything in you not to confront him, to comfort him about whatever he was going through. you’d have arguments when you were kids, but it was nothing a ring pop or tub of cherry jello couldn’t solve. this time is different; the wound is deeper, harder to heal.
you wanted the old conrad back: the sweet boy who cared for you and let you care for him in return.
then — summer, age 14
belly was turning 12, and you wanted to surprise her with homemade cupcakes for breakfast. only, the oven at your house was broken, which meant your intention of baking her birthday treats would have fallen through, if not for susannah’s ever-present generosity.
everyone else was out of the house — you even asked laurel and susannah to take belly shopping to not ruin the surprise. you were decorating the cupcakes when conrad walked in from the deck. his wet hair stuck to his forehead and he was wearing a rash guard, so he probably got back from surfing. he looked paler than usual, even after being in the sun for hours, but you didn’t think much of it at first.
“hey,” he greeted, sounding slightly out of breath. “what are you doing here?”
“the oven at my house is broken, so your mom said i can come over to bake these for belly’s birthday tomorrow.” you gestured at the clumsily decorated treats. the cupcakes had bright pink frosting and rainbow sprinkles. you weren’t a professional by any means, but knew that belly would love them.
“but i’m sure she wouldn’t miss one or two, if you wanna try one,” you offered, smiling at conrad.
he smiled back, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “yeah. yeah, let’s do that. i’m just gonna get changed first.”
conrad walked past you, and that’s when you noticed him limping — along with a bloody gash just below his left knee.
you instantly dropped the spatula back into the half-empty frosting bowl.
“connie, what the hell happened?”
“i’m fine,” he answered. “i wiped out, got cut by the fin of my board.” conrad must have noticed your eyes widened with worry because he grabbed your wrist gently, thumb rubbing soothingly on your pulse point. he was bleeding out on the kitchen floor, and there he was, trying to make sure you were okay.
“i’m fine,” he reassured.
the blood dripping down his leg suggested otherwise. years ago conrad would faint at the sight of blood, and though he’d mostly outgrown that, you knew it still made him queasy. you imagined the pain definitely wasn’t making it easier. without another word, you pulled him into the bathroom and made him sit on the edge of the bathtub. you washed your hands then sat cross-legged in front of him.
“you here to fix me up, sweetheart?” he smirked as he watched you gather supplies from the cabinet underneath the sink, your brows furrowed in concentration.
“what?” you paused, almost laughing. until you saw his wound again, and you got back to work.
“it’s from the hunger games,” he explained. “when katniss finds peeta in the arena? and he’s all, like, injured.”
“well, he was definitely in worse shape than you,” you assured. “your cut’s not that deep, it just looks bad.”
“it doesn’t feel great, either.”
conrad exhaled sharply when you started applying pressure to his leg with a damp washcloth. you placed your other hand on his right knee.
“it’ll be fine, connie. i’ve got you. keep your eyes on me, okay?”
he looked down at you, wet hair framing his face as he offered a short nod.
you gestured at him to take over, and your fingers brushed together when he grabbed the washcloth, but he never looked down. his eyes still followed you as you searched the bathroom for something to cover his wound.
a comfortable silence followed. the two of you used to spend hours talking, sure, but what you loved about spending time with conrad is that silence didn't bother him. you could each be in your own worlds while in the comfort of each other's company, and that was enough.
once the wound was cleaned and the bleeding slowed down, you placed a gauze pad over his cut before wrapping a cloth bandage around it.
“i’m pretty sure it’s ‘you here to finish me off, sweetheart?’,” you remembered.
conrad shook his head. “i’m pretty sure it’s not. i’ve read the book like, three times.”
you move to sit next to him on the edge of the tub.
“how sure are you, connie? because i’m pretty damn sure.”
conrad shrugged. “i’m pretty damn sure, too.”
you rolled your eyes, but with a smile. “okay, fine. we’ll check. but, when you see how wrong you are, you have to come with me to see jaws 2.” it was playing at the local movie theatre during their weekly throwback thursday — you and belly had seen it advertised on your way home from getting ice cream. you had wanted to ask conrad, but couldn’t find the right time.
because you hadn’t meant it to be a date, but you also hadn’t not meant it to be. something changed about how you felt towards conrad that summer; or, maybe, you just figured out what was different about the love you felt towards him compared to everyone else.
(yes, love. again, something you would never admit.)
you thought maybe — maybe he felt it too. there was something different in the way he teased you, laughed with you, looked at you when he thought you couldn’t notice.
you did notice. it happened so much that eventually you decided that either it was all in your head and he didn’t love you that way, or he was also scared of what would happen if he did. which, to be fair, was the position you were in. you were very scared of what would happen if you crossed that line.
“i’ll agree to that,” conrad said. “if you agree to having a picnic with me on the beach. if i have to face my fear of sharks, then you have to face your fear of angry seagulls stealing your food.”
a picnic on the beach. you wondered if this was conrad’s way of subtly asking you on a date. did he also want to cross that line, become something other than friends? he looked at you so eagerly, you hoped he did.
“fine.” you held out your hand. “but you have to protect me from angry seagulls.”
conrad smiled at you brightly as he grasped your hand.
“always.”
in the end, conrad lost the bet. the screening of jaws 2 was cancelled, so you rented it from the video store instead. you got his favourite movie snacks, and some of yours as well, and made sure the couch had the comfiest pillows and the warmest blanket. you felt butterflies just thinking about the two of you watching together, cuddling on the couch.
when the time came though, your plans fell through. the playdates your siblings had lined up both cancelled. your mother had plans to meet a friend at the bar, and claimed she couldn't reschedule. by then your parents were divorced and your father was elsewhere with his new girlfriend, so it fell to you to babysit your siblings.
conrad came over anyway: he helped you make rice and lentils for dinner, convinced your brother to eat his vegetables, and let your sister paint his nails. the four of you watched night at the museum and ate all the junk food you had gotten, with you and conrad sitting on opposite ends of the couch, but stealing glances and shy smiles at each other. when your mother came home, a bit after midnight and a little tipsy, she got angry that you’d kept the twins up so late and cheated on the diet she had so carefully planned for you — to keep you in shape for swimming, she claimed. you rolled your eyes, and that made her angrier. without you saying anything, conrad took the twins upstairs to get ready for bed as you and your mother argued. by the time conrad walked back downstairs, your mother had gone into the living room for another drink and you were in tears. he asked if you were okay, and you told him to go home.
you never talked about that night again, and everything went back to the way it was: with neither of you crossing that line.
now
the only reason you let belly drag you to nicole’s party is because it’s her birthday.
as soon as you enter the house, nicole and the other debutantes whisk belly away to a table filled with elaborate cakes. you can’t help but feel slightly embarrassed by how elegant they look in comparison to the cupcakes you made her.
"come on," taylor groans. "let's get a drink."
taylor grabs two beers and hands one to you. you gratefully accept. the two of you catch up for a bit, when suddenly jeremiah starts serenading belly in an outrageously funny musical number. you laugh along with them, until you catch a glimpse of conrad with nicole on the couch at the other end of the room. nicole is sitting in conrad's lap, and she leans over to whisper something in his ear before kissing his cheek. your entire body heats up.
conrad was right before: you were jealous. as frustrated as you were with him, you were even angrier at yourself for feeling that way.
"i’m gonna go find the bathroom!” taylor says, practically shouting over the music.
"okay!” you yell back. “i’m gonna go get another drink."
you know all too well that it isn’t a good habit to get into, but you need something stronger if you’re going to survive this party. you examine the drink table, finally picking out some mediocre tequila. you take a shot, then another.
“tequila. my kind of girl.” someone declares, creeping up behind you.
it’s a terrible pick up line, and you already have a feeling that the guy trying to flirt with you is some rich entitled asshole.
but, the guy — liam — can hold a decent conversation, and he’s cute enough.
he’s no conrad, though. you take another shot when that thought crosses your mind, and force yourself to flirt with leo. liam. right, liam.
liam leans in close, pretends to listen to you, lets his gaze linger on the deep v-neck of your shirt. you’re so close, you can smell the alcohol on his breath.
“five minutes,” you boast after he asks how long you can hold your breath underwater. somehow, the conversation veered towards your time as a competitive swimmer. you’re just the right amount of tipsy that your inhibitions start fading away.
“wow,” liam says. “i have to say, i’m glad you didn’t have that training camp this summer.”
you bat your eyelashes at him. “oh? why is that?” you lean closer, trailing a finger down his chest.
“because then i wouldn’t be able to do this.”
liam kisses you then, and you kiss back. he slides his tongue in your mouth, runs his hands over your body. you feel nothing. it’s fine.
“let's go upstairs.”
liam’s grabbing your wrist before you have a chance to answer. as he tries to tug you up the stairs, your eyes meet conrad’s from across the room.
suddenly, you feel nauseous. you rip away from liam’s grip and place a hand on the wall next to you to steady yourself.
liam turns around sharply. “what is it?”
“i changed my mind, actually. let’s just hang out downstairs.”
liam grabs your wrist again, his grip tighter than before. “don’t be a tease.”
this time, your voice comes out louder. “i just changed my mind. that doesn’t make me a tease.”
“don’t be a bitch, then,” he scoffs, and you’re this close to breaking this guy’s nose. “do you wanna fuck, or not?”
“i don’t,” you answer instantly, struggling to break free from his grip.
“okay, whatever. we don’t have to go all the way, but we can still go upstairs, and have a good time.”
he manages to drag you up two steps as you strain against his iron grip, now almost cutting off your circulation. your heartbeat quickens and you feel dizzy. finally, you grab onto the railing for leverage, forcing liam to stop in his tracks.
“what is it now?” he groans.
“just stop, liam.”
“listen,” he starts, speaking to you almost mockingly, like you’re a naive little girl. “i know what girls want, so you don’t have to be shy. we’re going upstairs right now and —”
“liam, is it?” the rest of the party is in full motion, but here’s belly, giving liam one of the most intense death stares you’ve ever seen. belly, who if you cut open, would bleed sugar. “i’m gonna have to ask you to let go of my friend.”
“whatever,” liam answers, rolling his eyes. “if you don’t mind, we’re kinda in the middle of something.” he tries to move you forward, but you stand your ground.
jeremiah is also glaring at liam from the bottom of the stairs, his golden retriever personality long gone. “back off, man,” he warns.
“just mind your own business,” liam snaps.
“they said leave her alone,” steven asserts, walking over once he sees what’s happening. “and you don’t wanna mess with us, trust me.” he clenches his hand into a fist as if proving a point.
in other situations, you and belly have definitely teased steven for his tendency to act all tough, but right now, you couldn’t be more grateful.
“who the fuck are you? her bodyguards?”
“just let her go,” belly orders.
“i think she can speak for herself. she wants this, but if you’re jealous, you can join, too.”
your stomach churns. liam leans in close to whisper in your ear. “maybe we’ll see if those 5 minutes come in handy when you’re sucking my —”
as soon as liam lets go of your wrist, his hand trailing downward, you shove him away and punch him in the nose before he can finish his sentence. you deliver a final blow to liam’s ego as he’s doubled over:
“what i want is for you to leave us the fuck alone. there are other people in this house who i’d rather hook up with. people who aren’t complete assholes with fancy cars to compensate for their tiny dick.”
the flirtatious smile falls from liam’s face, replaced with the kind of anger only rich entitled assholes have when they don’t get what they want — figures that he only gets the hint when it literally hits him right in the nose. he’s angry enough to deliver a punch right back to your face.
you hear a crack upon impact, and pain radiates from your nose. you fall down the stairs, but belly manages to catch you before you hit the ground. she holds you as jeremiah and steven step in front. you hear them shouting at liam over the music, but their exact words don’t register.
you lick your lips, tasting blood. your ears are ringing, and the room is suddenly all fuzzy.
“i’ve got her.” conrad’s calm and measured voice cuts through the chaos. you feel a strong, familiar arm wrap around your waist. “go find cam — the rest of us have been drinking, but he can drive her home.”
somehow, you find yourself in a bathroom, sitting on the counter as conrad stands between your legs. he carefully examines your injury, but you notice how he avoids making eye contact.
you feel your head spinning all over again. maybe it’s the alcohol, or the adrenaline, or the fact that the two of you haven’t been this close in a while — probably a dangerous mix of all three.
“you here to fix me up, sweetheart?” the question slips past your lips before you could stop it.
conrad looks slightly amused, and he finally meets your gaze. “that’s not the line,” he deadpans. you know (from trying not to but ultimately not being able to pull your attention away from him all night) that he’s had a few drinks as well; it seems like the two of you ignore each other best when you’re sober.
but, still, he remembers. his comment earlier and his smile right now is all the confirmation you need: somewhere in the back of his mind, he replays memories of you. no matter how cold he acts towards you, he still cares.
he continues wiping the blood off your face. “how’s your hand?” he asks.
you flex your fingers, inspect your hand. “it’s been better,” you answer, though your knuckles are slightly aching. “worth it.”
“i guess all those years away made you a badass.”
all those years away. the reminder feels like a stab to the heart, but you wouldn’t let it burst the comfortable bubble you and conrad had somehow stumbled into.
instead, you offer him a lopsided smile.
“oh, connie,” the nickname rolling off your tongue with ease. “i was always a badass.”
“yeah, yeah. but it’s different now. you’re different.” he pauses. you’re worried he’s going to say something else.
but he doesn’t. instead, he asks, jokingly: “did you join a fight club or something?”
you take that as a good sign: like you, he’s trying to preserve the playfulness between you before everything else seeps in and ruins it, before you’re brought back to the present, where you’re both heartbroken and not talking to each other.
“you know the first rule of fight club —”
“don’t talk about fight club,” you finish together.
conrad laughs, even though it’s not that funny. you laugh, too.
a silence falls over you, one that’s not unfamiliar, but not entirely comfortable either. conrad holds the cloth against your nose to make sure the bleeding stopped.
it seemed to be a strange pattern between you two — being there for each other when you bleed.
then — summer, age 12
it was the end of july when you got your first period.
you had made lunch for your siblings and walked them to their day camp, when you suddenly felt an ache in your abdomen. that ache turned into a sharp pain by the time you got home, and you ran to the bathroom to confirm what you’d suspected.
that afternoon, mr. conklin was taking all the kids to mini golf, but you weren’t feeling up for it. you texted belly about what happened and spent the rest of the day curled up in bed.
you didn’t hear him knock over the sound of the movie you were watching, but suddenly you saw conrad standing by your door, holding a bag from the candy shop.
“jesus, connie, you scared me!” you exclaimed, pausing the movie.
he smiled sheepishly and flopped down on the bed next to you. “belly told me you weren’t feeling well. here.” he handed you the bag.
you opened the bag, grateful that conrad picked out your favourite treats. you take one and bite into it. your stomach growled — you hadn’t eaten earlier because you felt nauseous, but now you could eat that entire bag in one go.
“how was mini golf?” you asked, popping another treat into your mouth.
“it was awesome! i finally managed to get past that giant hippo and get a hole-in-one. i got the highest score.”
you frown, wishing you had been there. if anything, to beat conrad’s score.
“don’t worry, we’ll go back another time,” conrad added. “you can beat me then.” sometimes, you swore conrad could read your mind. he then asked if you were feeling better.
“no. i got my period,” you huffed. “it sucks.”
“oh.” conrad adjusted his glasses, a sign that he felt awkward. “i’ve heard about those. they sound pretty brutal.”
“health class?”
“no. my mom, actually.”
health class wasn’t much help for you either, and neither was your mother. you were lucky enough to have susannah and laurel, who had explained everything to you and belly.
“anyway, what are you watching?”
“the hunger games,” you answer. “i just finished the book.”
“cool.”
conrad didn’t move — he actually leaned back against the pillows even more — so you figured he wanted to stay. you moved the laptop so it sat between the two of you and started playing the movie again.
“you know, it doesn’t seem fair that you miss out on having fun just because of your period,” conrad said as katniss finds peeta injured in the arena.
you frown, about to point out that he has no idea how painful cramps can be.
he lifted his hand up to stop you. “not that i can judge what you’re going through. i’m just saying when it’s this bad, instead of being alone, just text me, and i’ll be there.”
when the time came, he watched movies with you in bed. he brought you junk food and pain killers. he even biked to the store when you’d run out of pads.
he was there for you, just like he promised.
now
those moments from past summers now feel warm and sickly sweet, like popsicles melting in the sun — then again, that might just be the remnants of tequila flowing through your veins. you think about what happened earlier, how belly, jeremiah, and steven stepped in to protect you. how conrad is here with you now, taking care of you so tenderly even after you’ve ignored each for so long. it’s like nothing changed. but once you leave this bathroom and the alcohol leaves your system, it wouldn’t be the same. you feared you'd never get that magic back, and that weighed on your chest so much, you felt like you couldn’t breathe.
“why’d you go for liam, anyway?” conrad asks, breaking you away from your thoughts. he removes the cloth from your nose so you can answer, and the bleeding seems to have finally stopped.
“you really wanna know?”
“yeah. liam’s an asshole. and you’re…” conrad places his hands on either side of your thighs, leaning close. “you.”
“i went for liam because….well, honestly, i didn’t care who it was, as long as they made me forget you,” you admit, because what did you have to lose. you probably have a broken nose, you definitely have blood on your shirt, and your time with conrad is running out.
conrad’s eyes darken. his fingers start to play with the hem of your shorts.
“did it work?” his voice is a whisper, but he’s so close that it’s crystal clear.
“no.”
it’s hard to determine who leans in first, but soon enough your lips are on conrad’s. it's not the most elegant kiss — it's messy, urgent, with your noses bumping together, and teeth clacking against each other. he cradles your face in his hands, and you wrap your legs around his waist to bring him closer. you taste beer on his tongue, and maybe a hint of lime, but it’s overwhelmed by the salty, metallic taste of blood stained on your lips. you tangle your hands into his hair, and you swallow his moan as you gently tug. it’s clearer now: you’re not dizzy from the alcohol or adrenaline, but dizzy from him.
when you run out of air, feeling like your lungs could burst, you pull away. conrad’s gaze is heavy on yours as he traces your top lip with his thumb.
“connie,” you whimper, itching to kiss him again.
“you’re still bleeding.”
conrad wipes away your blood with the cuff of his flannel. before either of you can do or say anything more, there’s a knock on the door. jeremiah, letting you know that it’s time to go.
and, just like that, the moment is gone.
a few days later, belly invites you over for a girl’s night. you paint each other’s nails, eat sour candy, and watch rom coms, just like you used to. she updates you on debutante season, the argument she had with taylor, and her blossoming feelings for jeremiah. you let it slip that you and conrad kissed at nicole’s party, though you admit you aren’t sure what it means — as if you hadn’t spent hours and hours thinking about the kiss, about him. belly gives you a knowing smile, but you change the subject before she can comment any further.
you’re halfway through 10 things i hate about you when belly falls asleep. you grab your phone, deciding to finally reach out to conrad, when you get a text from him.
he’s already on the dock when you arrive, looking out onto the water.
“hey,” you greet as you stand next to him. “i was actually about to text you —”
“did you tell belly that we kissed?” he interrupts. you can’t quite read his expression as he waits for you to answer.
“no, i didn’t,” you lie. “but…would it matter if i did?”
“well, i mean, belly’s close to nicole and i don’t want her finding out," conrad explains. his words are deliberate, and you suspect he'd spent some time perfecting what to say to you. so far, you didn't like where this was going. conrad delivers another blow:
"it’s not like it meant anything.”
you feel like you could shatter into a million pieces right then and there.
“it didn’t?” you hate how fragile your voice sounds, compared to conrad’s stoic demeanor.
conrad shrugs. “i mean, we were both drunk and the thing with liam happened, so we just got caught up in the heat of the moment.”
“you’re saying there’s nothing between us, then? nothing other than friendship?”
he turned away before he answered. “no. nothing.”
“then what about last summer?” you demand. you force yourself to keep it together, your tone firmer than before. “i guess that didn’t mean anything, either.”
“y/n…” he pauses, and you know you caught him off guard. “i don’t know what you want me to say. we’re barely even friends anymore. you come back here, after all this time, after so much shit has happened, and expect us all to drop everything to fit you back into our lives. but, you don't. we moved on. i moved on, and i can’t deal with you —"
“got it,” you snap, already turning to walk away. “loud and fucking clear, conrad.”
it’s not like it meant anything. we’re barely even friends anymore.
you replay conrad’s words as you crawl into bed next to belly, holding back tears as to not disturb her sleep.
you decide then that you didn’t love conrad anymore. you couldn’t because it would eat you up inside.
then again, it doesn't seem like hating him would be any easier.
Summary: Last December you broke Conrad’s heart, now it’s April and seeing him again for the first time he wants to know why (inspired by back to December by Taylor Swift) angst with a happy ending
A/N: initially posted 06/07/23
You’d never really been one for small talk, it all seemed too formal and stiff to you. Standing there and asking the most basic level questions where the answers would barely change the response seemed so menial, so trivial. What did it matter talking about the weather? You wanted to know things about people, their deepest secrets, the things that made their hearts beat and their souls tick.
The first time that you met Conrad Fisher you were 11 almost 12 years old and he was 12 and a half. He was slightly shy at the prospect of meeting a stranger, a stranger his mother wanted him to meet no less and he shuffled over to you on the porch with his arms crossed stiffly behind his back. “I’m Conrad” he said and you nodded “y/n.”
There was a beat of silence then the awkward sound of mosquitos buzzing in the air and your mother and Susannah’s laughter drifting from the kitchen as you stood there. “It’s hot isn’t it?” Conrad finally asked you after a moment and you nodded “yeah.”
He cleared his throat, eyes darting around nervously “erm…so do you like the weather in Cousins?” He asked and you sighed internally, hating the prospect of dreaded small talk. You turned towards him and looked him dead in the eye, seeing the way he gulped but didn’t drop your gaze.
“When was the last time you cried because you were happy and why?” You asked him and he blinked.
“What?”
You looked at him with all the stoicism a tiny eleven year old could muster and repeated “I said when was the last time you cried because you were happy? I don’t care about the weather, tell me something real.”
He thought about it for a second and then almost hesitantly as if he wasn’t sure he should be telling you this he replied “when I won my first football game and dad told me he was proud of me…he’d never said that before.”
You smiled at him and the tension started to roll from his body. In the following years you’d come to cringe when you thought about this interaction, at your brazenness and choice of question, but it was your instant openness that had shocked him and drawn Conrad to you in the first place. Just like that the ice was broken and the two of you were friends, the rest was history.
In the present day that felt like a lifetime ago and in many ways it was. Almost a decade had passed, you were older and time had brought you closer and closer until it snapped and now you might as well have been strangers.
You sat at the table stirring your tea for what felt like the millionth time, the sound of the spoon scraping against the cup jarringly loud against the silence. He was too far away, his body angled away from yours even across the table and you ached with the desire to reach out and touch his hand.
“How’s work?” He asked after what felt like an eternity of silence. You paused the incessant stirring of your tea and looked up at him. His eyes were focused on a sugar packet on the table refusing to let you look too closely.
“I quit” you said and for a second his eyes flashed up, shock evident in his features.
“Oh” he replied “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay” you said instantly “it was a shit job anyway, I think I’m gonna go to college.”
“Really?” You could see that he was remembering how you’d given up your dream college, how you’d moved back home and let the fear of change keep you behind. He was remembering all of the fights that you’d had about not giving up, all the times he’d tried to convince you to follow your heart. It was ironic that it had taken losing him for you to see that he was right, that your stubbornness had only led to regret.
He swallowed “that’s…good” he said “I’m happy for you.”
You were dying inside, the boy you knew would have picked you up and spun you around, he would have laughed, he would have said ‘I told you so’ or teased at the very least. Sitting here, making idle conversation was like sitting with a stranger. It was a performance, an act between two people who knew enough about each other to fill in every single gap but were too shattered to exist together anymore. Two broken puzzle pieces and you only had yourself to blame.
“The weather is miserable” you finally said after another stretch of silence you needed to say something, anything because breathing the still air was starting to feel like inhaling glass “I’ve never seen Cousins like this.”
Conrad turned to face the window, the raindrops beating on the glass were fierce, the wind belligerent and howling. He picked up his cup and sipped slowly his eyes far away as he watched the storm. “It’s like this a lot in the winter, completely different to the summer.”
Your eyes closed automatically, you’d never seen cousins in the winter before except for once. Last December, when it all went wrong, when you tore everything apart.
It hadn’t been raining then, it had been snowing. Powder white snow that crunched under foot covering the little town with a fine mist. Your breath had fogged up the windowpane as you’d driven into town and Conrad had squeezed your hand tight. Everything had started so perfectly, your relationship at that time was so beautiful but so fragile just waiting for the hairpin cracks to fracture.
You could tell that he was thinking about it, about last December with the way that his face was twisted. There was a wrinkle between his furrowed eyebrows he only got when he thought hard, one you’d often teased him for, pressing your thumb over it to smooth out the soft skin. You were too far away to do that now and not just physically, you no longer had the right to tease him, to touch him so casually.
“How’s your mom?” You asked and he looked up from the napkin he was twisting between his fingers and caught your eye for the first time.
“She’s good” he murmured and his voice was tender and full of love. No matter what happened between the two of you you’d always have a shared love for Susannah. No one else in the world apart from Jeremiah understood how wonderful she was like you. “She got the all clear last month…she’s getting better every day.”
You’d heard it from your own mom but hearing it from Conrad directly was still a wave of relief. The bridge between you two narrowed ever so slightly as you shared a look of desperate relief.
Looking into his eyes directly was hell. These were the eyes you’d once called home, the soft blue your paradise and your dreamland. Now there was a wall behind them, the easy openness gone and you couldn’t blame him for that. His guard was up and you knew why.
December flashed across your mind again and you saw Cousins painted in snow once more, picturesque, beautiful and blissfully unaware that in her cold lay the end of it all. You saw Conrad and the bouquet of crimson red roses, so bright and vibrant against the pale grey sky. “I love you” he’d said “I’ve always loved you” the words were so sweet but they tasted bitter when you breathed them in. Everything was happening at once, Conrad was in college and you were working at home so far away from each other. Life had been padding along all this time and suddenly it had decided to sprint and everything was changing. Susanna was sick again, you’d given up your dream, Conrad was changing so afraid to lose his mom. The future which had always been something to look forward to was suddenly a terrifying thought, vast and open and bleak in front of you with no clear direction.
He held out the roses to you, told you that he loved you and asked you to move out to be closer to him and you fled. You abandoned your plans of spending a pre Christmas weekend in Cousins and ran all the way back home. You’d lost everything, most importantly your sense of self and you didn’t feel like you deserved Conrad’s love. You left without turning back, leaving the roses on the kitchen island.
Bizarrely in the coming days, weeks, months as you mulled over your decision the roses would be what you came to focus on. Did he throw them away as soon as you left? Did they wither and crumple at the bottom of the trash can buried under cans of beer and pizza boxes? Or maybe he threw them straight onto the fire, watched them be consumed by flames turning to ash and curling into smoke burning out as fast as the two of you. Or maybe he did what you suspected he did, what the most Conrad thing to do would be. Maybe he put them in his mothers big pink vase on the kitchen window sill…watched them slowly die day by day, petals falling and crumpling to the ground as he waited for you to come back and claim them, unaware that you never would. Did each crumb of hope wither away with every hour that the roses died? You thought that maybe as the scent of their decay filled Susannah’s lovely bright kitchen, cloy and thick in the air, that he finally gave up on you and left December behind.
You couldn’t look at him anymore and you broke away from his eyes shamefully. You looked at the house, the kitchen island, the old white chairs, the fireplace and the white washed walls. It was all so familiar but so different, once again you were seeing it in a new season for the first time and with Spring some of its life had washed away. In every crack in the plaster, every scuff on the hardwood floors there was a memory.
Every summer since you were 11 years old, had taken place in this house. All those beautiful, vibrant days coloured every room in shades of grey, the present failing to compare to the memories of the past.
You saw Conrad sitting next to you at the table, squeezing your hand when Jeremiah teased you. You saw yourself drinking Susannah’s sweet tea on the porch, playing chicken in the pool, laughing till your lungs ached in the living room. The summer everything became new flashed through your mind, Conrad kissing you for the first time on the porch, Conrad with sand in his hair laying beside you. Your hands tangled together, your laughter echoing in the car, sneaking down to the beach at midnight, playing games in the surf. A mirage of happy memories contrasting with the dreary April that you lived in now.
You were silent and sedentary, trying to stop the tears falling from your eyes as you thought about all you’d lost, the memories that made it hard to sleep at night. Conrad was the one to break the silence, his voice cutting over the ringing in your ears and bringing you out of the sunshine filled memories into the grey. “Why are you here?” He asked finally and his voice was defeated, tired and worn.
You swallowed hard, that was the question of the day, the question of the hour. You’d asked him to meet you in Cousins, asked him to drive down in the middle of his college break and he’d done it, despite everything he’d made time to see you and now he needed to know why.
“I-“ your voice caught and you clenched your fist under the table keeping ahold of your emotion “I needed to see you.”
His voice was thick, his gaze steadfast down at the table as he refused to look at you “why? after you left I thought you never wanted to see me again so I need to know why.”
“I made a mistake” you whispered “Conrad I made the biggest mistake of my life when I left you and from the minute I walked out of here I knew it was wrong…I - god” the tears that had been threatening to spill finally flooded out and you couldn’t speak, crying hard, pressing your palms into your eyes desperately trying to stop the flow.
You didn’t hear him stand up, didn’t hear him close the distance between the two of you. You jolted with surprise when you felt his hand on your shoulder, so warm in contrast with the freezing room. He said nothing, looked only at a fixed point above your shoulder but he stepped closer and closer until his chest was level with your head, his other arm stiffly coming to stroke through your hair. Even after everything he was still comforting you and the thought made you cry harder, tears soaking the thin fabric of his Henley.
It reminded you of another night Conrad had comforted you, the first time he’d ever seen you cry. The glum September after your beloved pet died. You were 14 and Susannah brought the boys over for a weekend in an attempt to cheer you up. It resulted in you hiding in your room crying your eyes out when Conrad had tiptoed in. He’d said nothing even then but he’d held you in his arms letting you cry until your breath was rattly and your voice was hoarse. “It’s okay” he finally whispered to you, “I’m here.”
The force of that memory was what made you finally be able to stop the tears, you pulled away and looked up at Conrad, wiping away the tears on the back of your hand. He started to say something but you cut him off “please, please just let me say this” you begged him and he paused before nodding and reluctantly taking the seat opposite you once more.
“I’ve made so many mistakes in my life” you began “so so many but none as big as when I let you go…I never explained it to you I didn’t know how to but you deserve that…I asked you here because you deserve that. I don’t expect you to take me back, I don’t expect you to forgive me, I don’t expect you to do anything.” Your voice wavered “I hope we can be friends again one day because well…because I miss you but I wouldn’t blame you if you never wanted to see me again after this.”
You took a deep breath and he went to speak again but you cut him off. “I left you because I was afraid, I loved you too much and I was so scared that you’d realise I was messed up and leave that I left you myself.”
He made a sound of surprise, indignation, shock you couldn’t tell which but you carried on “you were in college, you’d met all these people and I just felt like I didn’t fit in your life anymore…you were driving for hours almost every weekend coming to see me when you should have been having fun moving forwards but instead I was making you stay stuck with me…”
You finally looked at him “I tried to set you free Conrad, I thought it was for the best but every second of ‘freedom’ has been nothing but missing you, wishing I’d realised that you were right and you were everything to me. From the minute I left this room I’ve lived here, I go back to December all the time wishing I could change my own mind and see what was real, what was my future, because it wasn’t my insecurity or my fears…it was always you.”
Conrad’s eyes were glossy with his own unshed tears and he reached across the table taking your hand in his, squeezing your fingers hard like he couldn’t believe you were there in front of him “I thought you outgrew me” he confessed “I thought I was overcrowding your life, coming around all the time when I was unwanted.”
You shook your head “that couldn’t be further from the -“ and he interrupted you, his words hurried and rushed like he needed to expel them.
“I lied to you” he said “I told you college was good, that I was having fun but the truth was I hated it. I really hated it. I missed my mom, my brother…I missed you. I didn’t care about any of the parties, no one understood about my mom or even understood me…I thought if I hid that from you and made you think I was having fun you wouldn’t see how much of a loser I’d become…that you wouldn’t move onto someone better.”
You stood up abruptly, your chair scraping loudly against the hardwood floor. “Conrad Fisher” you rushed to his side, squeezing his hand tightly “you were never a loser…not to me I had no idea I thought -“
“I should have told you, we should have talked to each other. I could tell you felt scared of the future but all I did was push you when I should have asked what was wrong, don’t take all the blame.”
You sniffled, wiping away a tear “how did we become such a mess?” You asked and he stood up, looking down at your face as he cupped your cheek.
“Life’s a mess” he whispered “but you were always the best part of it.”
You pressed your own fingers over his, closing your eyes briefly “I love you” you whispered “I’ve always loved you.”
You felt his breath fan across your cheek as he exhaled “I love you too, so goddamn much…do you think we could ever be what we used to be?”
You shook your head “no” you replied instantly “because If we loved again I swear I’d love you right, no more roses left to die…all in.”
Conrad blinked “I’d like that” he said “on one condition.”
Your breathing stopped “anything.”
“Let me love you too” he leaned in until your lips were inches apart, blue eyes warm as they stared into yours “please.”
You bridged the gap and kissed him, the cold frost of winter melted away in seconds, December already fading into an old memory. Spring was in bloom and you had a really good feeling that everything would be okay.
‣ Pairing: Neteyam (20) x Fem!Omatikaya Reader (19)
‣ Summary: The story of two idiots with poor communication skills and a whole lot of daddy issues trying to not kill each other on a daily basis.
‣ Warnings: explicit smut, violence, manhandling, bruises, biting (sexy and none sexy), blood, slut shaming, p in v, dom!neteyam, hair pulling, choking, oral sex (f receiving), edging, creampie, praise kink, weapons and probably more to come.
‣ A/N: My enemies to lovers baby. Take a seat and enjoy the angst.
SERIES TAG | SERIES PLAYLIST | JOIN THE TAGLIST
‣ 𝑷𝑨𝑹𝑻 𝑰 » “Which one of you is going to tell me what happened?”
‣ 𝑷𝑨𝑹𝑻 𝑰𝑰 » “Insatiable… Like a Palulukan in heat.”
‣ 𝑷𝑨𝑹𝑻 𝑰𝑰𝑰 » “You look good with my hand around your throat.”
‣ 𝑷𝑨𝑹𝑻 𝑰𝑽 » “Tell me you want this.”
‣ 𝑷𝑨𝑹𝑻 𝑽 » “And I’m not your responsibility anymore.”
A/N: It’s been so long but with season 4 coming out at some point I figured it’s time to start writing again. Anyways, had a request from a while ago about at reader x Spooky sneaky link. Hope you guys enjoy!
Summary: Reader is Sad Eyes sister, secretly dating Oscar “Spooky” Diaz
Warnings: language, slight smut
Word count: 3,000
You moved to sit back in the passenger seat, pulling your shirt back down to cover your chest. Sweat caused the loose hair at the back of your neck to stick to your skin and you struggled to catch your breath as you watched the equally breathless Santo, in the driver’s seat, fix his pants. He glanced over at you and raised an eyebrow when he caught you staring.
“This would be a lot more comfortable for you if we were in a bed.” He gesture to the hand you were currently using to rub your neck. Sex in a car can be fun but somehow you always found yourself bent in odd angles that left you soar, and not in the good way, afterwards.
“And would that bed be at your place, where there’s always Santos hanging around or mine where my over protective brother could walk in on us?” You replied.
You didn’t wait for his response and instead you reached to open the door and stepped out of the car. You leaned down and smiled at the Santo, and before closing the door, said “see ya later Oscar.”
You made your way down the street to your house, aware that Oscar was watching to make sure you made it inside, you could never be too cautious late at night in Freeridge. What you weren’t aware of were the four other pairs of eyes watching from across the street.
“Ohmygod!” Jamal whisper shouted as he turned to his friends, “did just you see what I just saw?”
“Do you mean Y/N getting out of Spooky’s car or what they were doing before she got out?” Ruby asked.
“This is not good, oh no this is really not good. Do you think her brother knows?” Jamal asked in a high pitched voice.
“If her brother knew I doubt they’d be sneaking around,” Monse said before turning towards Cesar and asking “did you know about this?”
Cesar put his hands up “I had not idea! They barely talk whenever she’s at my place.” He said.
“You know it kind of makes sense that they don’t talk too much what with her brother being Sad Eyes, Spooky’s homie, they probably wouldn’t want to draw too much attention or have any rumors started.” Ruby said.
Jamal looked at the group, “So what are we going to do?” He asked.
“I’m going to go home and WE-” Monse replied, “-aren’t going to do or say anything about what we saw.” She looked pointedly at Jamal, “I mean it Jamal, nothing.”
“You know I don’t do well with secrets” Jamal whined as the group began walking again.
“All you have to do is avoid Y/N” Cesar said.
“And Spooky, and Sad Eyes, and probably any other Santo for good measure” Ruby said, laughing at his friend’s expense.
——————————————————————————
“Hey where you been?” Your brother, Antonio, asked as you stepped into your house. He was sitting on the couch with a few other Santos, who looked over at you.
“Out” you replied as you slipped off your shoes.
“You know I don’t like you going out alone at night,” Antonio said, “It’s not safe.”
“Deja de preocuparte Tony, I’m fine.” You said and made your way down the hall to your room.
——————————————————————————
Two days later.
The door to your room opened, Antonio come in and threw himself on your bed.
“Ew gross get off! You smell like weed!” You yelled at him, trying to shove him off of the bed but he resisted, rolling himself up in your blanket instead.
“You’re fucking annoying,” you said giving up trying get him off of your bed and going back to the text you had just received.
Antonio let out a laugh, knowing his presence was annoying you, he reached over and snatched your phone out of your hands, “who you texting?”
“Give it back Tony! You play too much” you made a grab for your phone, you weren’t sure what the text said but you knew you didn’t want him to see it, but you brother stood up holding the phone over your head. You hit him in the stomach, “I’m serious!”
“See you at the party tonight?” Antonio read the message off of your phone, he looked at you, all humor gone from his face. “What party? The Santo’s party? You told me you weren’t going?”
You crossed your arms, a scowl on your face, “well maybe I changed my mind. I didn’t know I had to run my decision by you. ” You said.
“You know you’re not supposed to be hanging around Los Santos without me knowing Y/N, its not safe.” he said through gritted teeth, “and who the fuck is asking you that? Is there some fool you running around town with?” He gestured to the contact name in your phone a simple heart emoji.
“It’s none of your business.” You said.
“The fuck its not! You ain’t gonna be running around these streets with some dude!” He yelled at you.
“Oh so you can run around and bring a different girl home all the time but with me it’s different?” You asked.
Antonio nodded his head and replied, “yes exactly.”
“I don’t really see what the big deal is, you were probably just going to drag me to the party any ways. You always do.” You said, shrugging your shoulders and hoping to divert his attention away from the text.
Antonio let out a sigh before handing you back your phone, “Fine you can go with me tonight, but you’re gonna show me who this guy is you’re trying to meet there.”
You just watched your brother walk out of the room, there was no way you could let your brother find out who your boyfriend was. Your phone chimed with a new message as you threw yourself onto your bed ‘you ignoring me now mamas?’ It read. You typed out a quick response confirming that you’d see him there then rushed to get ready.
You followed your brother through Spooky’s house and out to the back yard where the music grew louder and people stood around drinking.
“Aye keep up’ your brother said placing his arm around you shoulders to keep you close. You rolled your eyes, this was going to be a long night. Before you knew it you found yourself standing in a circle with several of your brother’s friends, his arm still keeping you stuck to his side. Your eyes scanned the yard looking for any of your friends. “Looking for tu novio?” Your brother asked.
“Nope, just anyone that can get me away from this boring ass conversation.” You said, rolling your eyes and trying to pull away from Antonio.
“Aye Sad Eyes, que onda compa?” A familiar voice interrupted the two of you, distracting your brother enough for you to take a few steps away from him. You brother turned to speak to Oscar.
Oscar nodded toward you, “sup Y/N? Aren’t you usually off dancing with your little friends?” He said.
You smiled softly at Oscar before glancing back at your brother, scowl back on your face you replied, “I would be but I’m being held hostage by this fool.”
Oscar let out a laugh, “hostage?” he asked Antonio.
“Man, she thinks she’s slick running around with some little secret novio.” He said, sucking on his teeth.
Oscar raised his eyebrow as he looked back at you, humor laced his voice as he asked, “A secret novio huh? What’s this guy like.”
You were saved from having to answer as a familiar face popped up, the person shoving past Oscar and hugging you, “Y/N!” Cesar said, his friends each hugging you after Cesar pulled away.
“Hey guys, how are you?” You asked. You were pretty close to the four high schoolers as you had spent a lot of time watching Cesar as he grew up. Whenever Oscar and your brother had to go on a run Oscar would bring Cesar over and you would take care of him. Soon enough it turned into the core four having sleepovers at your place.
“We need to talk” Jamal said, urgently pulling on your arm.
“Looks like I have more important things to do than stand around here.” You said, flipping off your brother and following the teenagers.
You came to a stop by a cooler full of beers and picked one up as you turned toward the group, “so what’s up?”
“What, oh nothing. We just couldn’t stand the awkwardness going on over there anymore.” Jamal said, gesturing to where Oscar and Antonio stood. A few girls had moved to join them and your brother seemed to have forgotten about you as he leaned down to talk to one of them. Oscar, on the other hand was staring right at you, a smirk on his full lips as his eyes wondered over your body before meeting your own. You glanced away feeling a blush rise in your cheeks.
“What awkwardness?” You said, confused that the teens would pick up on anything.
“Ok look I know we said we weren’t going to say anything, but you guys know I’m not good with secrets,” Jamal started, Monse tried to cover his mouth but he continued, “We saw you and Os-Spooky doing the humpity dumpity in his car the other night.”
Your smile dropped, a cold sweat taking over your body at his words, “what?’
“WE SAW YOU GUYS BUMPIN UGLIES, you know, taking a trip to pound town, you were letting him check your oil girl!” Jamal said before you were able to cover his mouth.
“Ok chill, shut up about it.” Your hand still covered the kid’s mouth, “now if I remove my hand are you going to keep quiet?”
Jamal nodded his head. Slowly you pulled your hand away and looked at the group, “Now, how did you guys even see that?”
Cesar rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, “well, uh, we uh-”
“We were walking home and we saw you guys, and to be fair anyone could have walked outside and seen you guys I mean you weren’t even parked far from your house and I’m surprised no-one has found out about this considering how so not careful you two are being.” Ruby said.
You stared at him in shock, you had to admit he had a point but, “you guys can’t say anything about this. I mean it.” You said eyeing Jamal and that big mouth of his.
“You can trust us Y/N” Monse said.
You nodded and glanced back over at Oscar to find he was already looking at you. He nodded his head toward the house before breaking eye contact and walking toward the backdoor. You looked back at the teens, “I’ll be back” you said before quickly following in the direction Oscar had gone. You entered the house to find it was pretty empty. You made your way down the hall and opened the door to Oscar’s room. He was already there and he turned when he heard you enter.
“So tell me about this novio of yours.” He said laughing as you closed the door.
“Shut up, this is serious” you said, slapping his chest. He leaned down, arms wrapping around your waist, and placed a soft kiss on your lips.
“It’ll be fine mamas” he mumbled against your lips.
“How can you be so sure?” You asked as you wrapped your arms around his neck, moving your body closer to his.
Oscar began trailing small kisses along your jaw and down your neck before answering with, “because I am, now can we get back to this?”
You let out a giggle, “oh so is this all you wanted me for?” You asked.
Oscar stopped his movements and pulled back to look you in the eyes, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. His deep brown eyes staring into your own eyes. Finally he spoke, voice soft and low, “you know this is so much more right mamas? That you mean so fucking much to me? You know how much I love you Y/N?”
You smiled at him, bringing you hand up to cover his where it was on your cheek, “Yes I know that baby, I love you too Oscar.”
Seemingly satisfied with your response his hand slipped behind your neck, drawing you closer to him, his lips meeting yours in a kiss so passionate all of the stress of the idea of your brother finding out or the core four knowing about you and Oscar disappeared. Oscar brought his hands down to your ass giving it a squeeze before lifting you up and walking over to his bed. He laid you down, climbing between your legs, and began to trail kisses from your neck down the deep plunge of your top.
It was rare that you and Oscar found yourselves alone in a room and you two planned on making the most of it. Slowly, Oscar slid his hands up your shirt and pulled it over your head, discarding it somewhere across the room and stared at the newly exposed skin, his fingers traced along the lace of the bra that still covered your breasts before his thumb rubbed over your hardening nipple. Even through the fabric of your bra the sensation was enough to cause your back to arch up off of the bed, you breathing quickened as he continued to move his thumb in slow circles. you reached under your back and unclasped your bra, wanting to feel his hands on your bare skin. Oscar watched as you slid the straps down your arms until you fully removed your bra, exposing your breasts.
“Damn” Oscar said, voice deep with lust as his eyes roamed your body. He leaned down and placed light kisses across your chest before capturing your left nipple in his mouth and sucking, his hand expertly rubbing your right nipple. The sensation of his mouth and hands on you had your core heating up and you knew your panties were already soaked.
Oscar’s mouth left your nipple as he continued to trail kisses down your stomach to the top of your jeans. Slowly he unbuttoned them and hooked his fingers in your waistband, pulling your pants down your legs and making sure to take your panties with them.
“WHAT THE FUCK!” A familiar voice yelled.
Oscar’s movements stopped as the both of you looked towards the door to find your brother standing there, a furious expression on his quickly reddening face. You expected him to yell, to come charging at Oscar, but instead he just shook his head and slammed the door.
You and Oscar stared at each other before quickly getting up and throwing your clothes back on. Within seconds you were both out the door and rushing down the hallway and into the living room where a livid Sad Eyes was pacing the room.
“Tony it’s-“ you started to speak but stopped when his gaze met yours.
“What you wanna sit here and lie? Tell me I didn’t just see you two fucking?!” Tony yelled, getting in your face, “I didn’t realize my sister was a pinche Santo whore!”
“Aye watch it foo” Oscar said as he put himself between you and your brother. You always knew you would have to tell you brother eventually but this was not the way you had imagined things happening. Fear seized your heart at the idea of a fight breaking out. Both men, you knew, could hold their own but there was a reason people around Freeridge called Oscar Spooky and you knew things wouldn’t end well if it came to a fight.
“Oh what you stepping up now, Spooky” Tony taunted as he shoved Oscar, “you and my sister! My fucking sister man!”
Oscar’s jaw clenched, his hands in fists at his sides, “You need to remember who your fucking talking to” He said, shoving Tony back.
You quickly wrapped your hand around Oscar’s wrist, he stared down at your hand before meeting your eyes. His face softened as he stared into your worried eyes “no te preocupes mi amor.”
Your eyes shifted back over to your brother who looked more confused than angry at Oscar’s response to you. “Tony, this,” you said, pointing between you and Oscar, “this is real, I love him and we aren’t going to stop seeing each other. So you’re gonna have to get use to it.”
Tony rubbed a hand over his face then glanced between you and Oscar, he sighed in defeat “she’s my baby sister man.”
Oscar nodded his head, “I know” he replied.
“You better treat her right” Tony said and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding as Oscar looked down at you,
“What were you even doing going into Oscar’s room?” You asked your brother.
“I was looking for you.”
You scrunched your face up in confusion, “but why would you look for me in Oscar’s room?”
“I was just checking the house because that foo said you were in here.” He said, pointing behind you.
You and Oscar turned to find Cesar, Monse, Ruby, and Jamal, who was nervously crouching behind Cesar, standing in the hallway staring.
“In my defense,” Jamal said, “I said that I wouldn’t check the house if I were you.”
You stared at him incredulously, “Jamal, one day you’re really going to have to learn how to keep that big mouth of yours shut.”
Next to you, Oscar started to laugh as he pulled you closer to him.
Tony cleared his throat, “I mean it compa, you better take are of her.” He said before walking out the front door.
“I plan to,” Oscar whispered in you ear, “why don’t we go finish what we started?” Before you could answer Oscar had picked you up and was carrying you back towards his bedroom. This is going to be an interesting new part to your relationship…
