#<- no idea if i should use these or not but whatever | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

samandcolbyownme · 23 hours ago

Note

The perchance of rafe smut?😝😛🫡

Summary: Reader risks her friendship just to be with the one she came to love most

Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language, sneaking around, flirting, kissing, unprotected car sex, creampie, hair pulling, choking, biting, general filth with fluff

Word Count: 4.5k | unedited

𓂃 ོ𓂃

“Come on.” Kie kicks the end of your bed, “We gotta go.” She yawns, forcing a yawn upon you, “What time is it?”

She looks down at her phone, “It’s seven.”

“Kie.” You shoot up in bed, staring at her, “We were to be there at seven!”

“Oh shit.” Her hands slap her thighs and you quickly get up, running around your room to find your clothes, “Fuck, we have to wash the Cameron’s Yacht today.”

You grab your swimsuit top, turning around to rip your baggy shirt off your body, “I hope Ward isn’t there bitching.”

“Knowing him. He probably is.” Kie sighs, “I thought something felt off.”

After putting your shirt back on, you slide your jean shorts up your legs and button them over your swim bottoms, quickly walking over to slip on your sneakers. You turn your head as Kie speaks, “If Rafe is there, we’re fucked.”

“Why do you say that?” You look over at her and she raises her brows, “Everything has to be perfect for that fuckin’ kook.”

You nod, “Yeah, yeah, you’re right.” You grab your phone and slip it into your pocket, “Alright, ready?”

She nods and you both take off down the hall and out the door.

“Hey where are you-“

“Can’t talk, JB. Gotta run to work. We’re late.” You yell as you and Kie run by the Twinkie.

“I can give you guys a ride!” He yells back, but you and Kie just keep running. You weren’t too far from the marina, luckily.

“Almost there.” Kie huffs, “Fuck, we should have just let John B give us a ride.” You laugh as you slow down from a run to a walk, nodding as you take a deep breath, “Yeah, yeah. That would have been.. a better idea..”

She nods, walking down the hill to the dock, you on her tail.

“Ward’s yacht is over there.” She points as you bend down to grab the buckets and rags, “Is he there?”

She makes a visor with her hand, shaking her head as she looks down at you, “No, I don’t think anyone is here.”

“Good. We got lucky.” You stand up, handing her a bucket with water, “Let’s just.. get started before anyone knows we were late.”

You walk down the dock, kicking off your shoes before stepping onto the expensive boat. You set the bucket down and point, “I’ll work down here if you want to go up there?”

“Sounds good.” She takes her bucket and climbs up the steps. You walk over to the side, working on wiping down the seats.

𓂃 ོ𓂃

After an hour of working, Kie taps the boat, “Hey, Incoming.” You look up at her and she points, turning your attention to the man climbing aboard the still boat.

“You missed a spot.” Rafe points, “Yeah, uh, right where your hand slapped the side of my boat.”

Kie scoffs, “Don’t you have anything better to do than come bother us while we’re working, Rafe?” He glances from her to you and shrugs with a smirk, “I mean, last time I checked, this is my boat..” He looks back up at her, “..so, I can come and go as I please, right?”

“Whatever.” Kie scoffs, shaking her head as she walks away from the edge. “Yeah, Rafe. Couldn’t this wait until we were done. You’re just tracking more dirt in.”

You fight back a smile as he walks up to you, “Relax, okay.” He tilts his head, smirking as his eyes bounce from your bikini top back up to your eyes, “I just need to grab something for my dad.”

You playfully roll your eyes, turning your head as his hand drags across your bare lower back as he moves behind you to the cabin.

You didn’t hate Rafe, not in the slightest. You only had to pretend to because if your friends found out you were secretly seeing Rafe Cameron behind their backs, they would absolutely lose it - big time.

Yes, Rafe was a total asshole, but never to you. In fact, he was head over heels for you, and only you. He showed you his soft side, never raising his voice at you. Never taking his anger out on you - unless you asked him to, of course.

It was fun to play enemies while you were around your friends, it only made the love you had for each other grow stronger.

Your hand wiping down the wall comes to a slow stop as you feel a hand lay on your hip, dragging across your back again. You turn your head as he leans in to whisper, “I’ll see you later, alright?”

He quickly pecks your temple and walks away. You look back at him, scoffing in Kie’s direction when you hear her come down the steps, “Ridiculous.”

She rounds the corner, leaning against the side of the boat, “Tell me about it. he’s so..” she raises her voice, looking towards him, “Annoying!”

He raises his hand, flicking her off before walking down the dock.

“Yeah, literally.” You scoff, “I mean, did he even grab anything?”

“I’m not sure. Probably just wanted to piss us off.” She shakes her head, walking over to sit down, “How much more do you have to do down here?”

“I have to clean the inside and scrub the floor out here. Shouldn’t take too much longer.” You sit down next to her, glancing back at Rafe.

He looks up from the guy he’s talking to, smiling as he continues the conversation. You look back, tilting your head up toward the sky with your eyes closed, “You think he knew we were late?”

“I hope not.”

“How many more boats do we have to clean?” You look over at her and she groans, “Oh don’t remind me.” You laugh and stand up, holding your hand out, “Come on. I’ll put some music on.”

She whines as she takes your hand, “Fiiiine.”

𓂃 ོ𓂃

After the Cameron’s yacht, you had three more to do, which, instead of splitting off, you both worked together in the same area which cut down the time by a lot.

“Do you have plans after this?” Kie looks up at you and you shake your head, “Probably just going to get something to eat.”

“You read my mind.” She laughs, “I’m starving.”

“Hold on.” You smirk at her and make your way down into the cabin where the bedroom is. You’ve cleaned this yacht before, so you know where all the hidden snack drawers are.

You grab a few bags of chips and two granola bars, stopping when your phone buzzes. You pull it out, smiling when you see a text from Rafe, Is my girl okay? You seemed a little down when I seen you earlier.

You lean out into the small hallway before answering him, I’m good, just a little on edge. We were late this morning, scared I’m going to get in trouble.

You put your phone back into your pocket before making your way back up to Kie, “Here.”

“Oh hell yes.” She takes the small bag and rips it open, “I love you.” You laugh, “I’m sure they won’t mind, I don’t even think they’ll notice.”

You take your phone out of your pocket, fighting back a smirk as you read over the text from Rafe, You won’t baby I’ll make sure of it.

Kie moves to sit down to snack on her chips, “Remind me again as to why we’re doing this?”

You put your phone away and walk over to sit next to her, “Be..cause we’re hungry?” You pop a chip into your mouth and crunch down on it and she laughs, shaking her head, “No, no. This. Cleaning boats.”

“Oh, well. Thats pretty simple, because my family is a bunch of assholes, but you’re more family than they’ll ever be, and that’s why you’re here.” You smile at her and she smirks, “I just don’t get why your family want to live in the cut when they can get a place over in kook paradise.”

You shrug, “They’re humble with their money I guess. I don’t know. They want me to go to a prestigious school but I just want to live my life, so in that agreement, I make my own money until I’m ready to accept what they want for me.”

Partly why you loved Rafe. He loved you for you and understood that you were your own person.

“Well well.”

You and Kie jump to your feet, “S-sorry. We were-“

JJ stands there laughing, “Oh I got you guys good!”

“Fuck off, JJ.” Kie rolls her eyes, “That wasn’t funny.”

He laughs and sits down, kicking his feet up, “I thought it was pretty funny.” You push his feet off and wipe the upholstery, “Don’t get things dirty. We already cleaned in here.”

“Whoa, sorry.” He holds his hands up in defense, “Didn’t know you guys took this job that serious.”

“You do when your income relies on it, J.” You roll your eyes, looking around, “I don’t know. It looks pretty clean to me.”

“Done for the day?” Kie raises her brows and you nod, “Done for the day. Let’s go eat.”

𓂃 ོ𓂃

You quickly response to Rafe’s earlier text as JJ and Kie are up grabbing the food, Thank you baby. Can’t wait to see you later.

You sit up, tucking your phone between your thighs as you hear the sound of them laughing growing closer, “Here you go.”

“Thank you.” You take the bag from JJ and he plops down next to you, “So who’s getting beer for tonights bonfire?”

“Bonfire?” You ask, glancing from him to Kie, and she nods, “Yeah, John B has been planning one for a few days now, I told you about it didn’t I?”

You shake your head, “I don’t think so.”

“Oh don’t tell me you’re bailing on this.” JJ groans, “You can’t. You’re a pouge, y/n. That’s like.. like a sin to miss out on this.”

“I didn’t say I’ll miss it. I’m just saying, I’m tired so I’m not staying for the whole night.”

“Lame.” JJ groans, “But fine, I’ll accept that.”

Kie laughs, “You don’t work tomorrow, do you?” You shake your head, “No. thank god.” JJ slaps his hands on the table, “Then there you go. You can stay out late tonight and then sleep all day tomorrow. It’s what I do and it works out for me.”

You raise your brows, “Yeah, okay.” You stand up, “I’ll be back.”

“You runnin’ out on us?” JJ asks and you tilt your head, “I have to pee, J. Is that a sin, too?” You and Kie laugh as he shakes his head and you make your way to the bathroom.

You lock yourself in the stall and press your back against the wall as you type, John B is having a bonfire tonight and I’m supposed to go. I need a good excuse as to why I won’t be there.

You see the bubbles pop up and Rafe’s text comes through, Tell them that you’re doing something that can bring you a lot more pleasure than staring at a fire.

You laugh, biting your lip as answer, fine you’ve convinced me, I’ll meet you at the usual spot at six and I’ll wear that dress you like.

You put your phone back into your pocket and walk out, “I’m going to go home and get ready. I’ll meet you guys at John B in an hour?”

“Oh shit.” Kie looks at her phone, “It is three. He said to come over around five.”

“Well. I’ll be at John B’s.” JJ stands up, “I’ll get the beer. See you guys later.” You look at Kie, “My mom texted me when I was in the bathroom.”

“About what?” She tilts her head and you sigh, “Said she wants to have a chat with me.” You laugh, “Maybe we got busted for being late and they called my mommy.”

“Oh god, I hope not.” She frowns, “Well good luck.”

“Yeah. Thanks.” You turn around, letting out a sigh as you push open the door.

𓂃 ོ𓂃

You run your hands down over your dress, turning in your mirror as you give yourself a once over before grabbing your phone.

“Hey.” You call out, “I’m going to John B’s for a bonfire for a little bit.”

“How long are you going to be?” Your mom calls out from the living room, and you walk in, leaning against the door, “Few hours maybe?”

“Okay. Have fun.” She gives you a smile and you nod, turning to leave. You stop at the front door, turning around, “Actually, mom..” you walk back in and she looks up at you, “Yeah?”

“I don’t think I’m going to the fire. I’m going to go for a bike ride, think about college.”

She raises her brows, “Really?”

You nod, lying with full intent, “Yeah, if any of my friends show up, don’t tell them that. They’ll freak out. I want to be the one to tell them.”

She tilts her head, “What do you want me to tell them?” You shrug, “Just tell them that I went to bed or something, I wasn’t feeling good?” She nods, “You got it. Good luck.”

You turn around and walk to the front door, stopping to text Rafe, Fuck the bonfire. I’m coming now.

A smirk grows on your face as Rafe’s texts back, That’s my girl. On my way.

You make your way out the door and to your bike, looking around before pedaling away from your house.

After a few minutes, you smile when you see Rafe’s car parked in its usual spot and you come to stop, getting off to push it behind some trees.

You run around, getting in and immediately leaning over to press your lips to his, “I’ve missed you.” He smirks against your lips, “I can tell.” He chuckles as you sit back down, sliding his hand to your thigh, “God, you get prettier each time I see you.”

He smiles and starts to drive, “Where we goin’ baby?”

You shrug, smiling over at him, “Somewhere no one will find us for a while.”

He nods, giving your thigh a squeeze before he starts to drive. He drives up to a lookout, overlooking the night life filled figure eight, “How’s this?” He glances over at you and you smile, looking from his eyes to his lips, “It’s perfect.”

You unbuckle as you lean over, your lips crashing onto his.

You can hear your phone vibrating in your bag and you huff, “I didn’t tell them I wasn’t coming.” Rafe shakes his head, “I’m sure they’ll understand, baby.”

“I told my mom I was going for a bike ride to think about college.” You giggle, “But this is much for fun than that.”

“Don’t worry about them, okay.“ He kisses back your jaw, “Just relax and let me take care of you, alright? Nothing will happen, not when I’m around.” He lean back, “C’mere.”

You smile and climb over the console to straddle his lap. Your hands sliding up his chest to his shoulders as you lean back in to kiss him.

His hands slide down your sides and around to your ass giving it a squeeze, “Where’s my girl, huh?”

You bite your lip, sliding your hands down to undo the belt on his jeans, “Right here, baby.” Rafe sucks in a breath as you slip your hand into his boxers, nodding with a smirk, “Damn right.”

He reaches up, pulling you in by the neck to kiss you. You swallow his moans as your hand slowly moves up and down his cock, “a-alright, fuck, baby. Enough teasing me, yeah?”

You bring your hand up, collecting a saliva on your fingertips and rub it on the tip of his cock before lifting your dress up and moving to hover over his lap.

You reach down under, pulling your panties to the side before slowly sinking down into him. Your hands fling to his shoulders as your head falls forward to rest against his, “Fuck, Rafe.” You gasp, “Fuck, I’ve needed you.”

His grip on your hip tightens with one hand while he reaches up and tilts your chin up with the other, “Whenever you need me, baby. I’m all yours.”

You roll your hips, your jaw falling open as you feel the entirety of him stretch you out, “You feel so good.” Rafe groans lowly, watching your body move on top of his, “Yeah?”

You press your hand onto the center console, gripping his shoulder with the other one as you bounce.

“That’s it, baby, fuck.” Rafe rests his head back against the headrest, “Just like that.”

Your moans fill the car, the heat from your bodies fogging up the windows rather quickly.

Your walls squeeze his cock, begging for your release to come on quicker, “Fuck, I’m already so close.” A smug smirk slides onto his lips, “That good, huh?”

You smile, head tilting to the side as you roughen your bounces, “F-fuck, fuck, Yes.”

Your eyes lock onto Rafe’s and you watch as his jaw fall slack, groans leave his lips as your moans grow louder.

He slides his hand up to your neck, squeezing slightly as he pulls you in, “Cum for me, baby, please.” He practically whimpers, “God you feel incredible.”

You slide your hand up to his, squeezing to indicate you wanted him to choke you harder, and he does. You whimper as he follows through, his grip growing tighter as you gasp, “There.. There baby. Fuck.”

“That’s it.” Rafe groans, “So much better than a bonfire, right?” Rafe reaches down, pulling to recline his seat back and his hands move to your hips.

He holds you still as he bucks his hips upward, fucking you through your high, and all you can do is moan in response, “S-so.. much better, R-Rafe..”

“Yeah, yeah I know.” He grunts out, his lips moving to kiss up and down your neck, “Christ, baby. You have me about ready to cum.”

You laugh slightly, “That good huh?”

“Fuck yeah, baby.” He smirks and lifts his head to press his lips to yours, swallowing each of your moans with ease, just like you do in return with him.

“D-Don’t stop.” You whimper against his lips, “I-I’m almost there again.”

He wraps an arm around your waist, tightening his hold as he continues to thrust upward, “C’mon, baby. I got you.” He connects your lips with his, “I got you.”

You press your hand to the window, moaning out loudly as Rafe brings you to, and through your second high of the night. You look down at him, your hand coming up to ready on his cheek as you feel his cock twitch inside of you.

You press your lips to his, swallowing his moans as he pushes you down onto him fully.

Your lips move in a slow sync for a moment before you smile and sit up, “Well, that was fun.” You bite your lip as you go to move off of him, but he stops you, “Uh uh. Where are you going?”

“Back over to-“

“Nah.” He shakes his head and reaches down to lift you up. He reaches under your dress and fixes your panties before he fixes himself.

He pulls you down to lay on his chest and he kisses your head.

After a few moments of silence, Rafe takes a deep breath, “Are you really thinking about going to college?”

“I don’t think so.” You answer quietly, “That would require me to leave and honestly.” You sit up, laying your hand on his chest, “I don’t want to.”

He smiles slightly, laying his hand on yours, “You know I’d go with you right?” He scoffs, “I don’t know what it is about you, but I’d do anything for you.”

You smile, “Damn, I really do have you wrapped around my finger, don’t I?”

He shakes his head with a smirk, “Yeah, I guess you do.” His hand rub over your hip, “Look, I know I’m not really who you’d stay for.”

“Well yeah, you said you’d come with me, so.” You laugh slightly and he looks up at you, “I know.. those.. pouges are you friends and I-“

“Rafe.” You lay your hand on his cheek, “I’m risking everything for love, basically.” He furrows his brows, “What.. do you mean?”

You tilt your head, “What I mean.. is I know you guys don’t get along.. frankly, Rafe. They hate you.” You laugh slightly as he smirks, “I mean, yeah. I get it.”

You lay your hand on his cheek, “I’m risking my friendship with them to be here with you, because I love you.. and I know that.. that it’ll be a shock to them, and they might hate me, too, but no one has ever treated me the way you treat me and I just-“ you sigh, locking eyes with him, “Love.. you..”

His eyes scan your face before he nods, pulling you in for a kiss, “I love you.”

You smile against his lips, moving your hands up to cup his face, “You know.” You sit back, “You are such an asshole.. it’s kind of weird seeing you in this soft sweetheart mode.”

He tilts his head, furrowing his brows, “You’re pushing it.”

“Am I?” You tilt your head and he breaks, cracking a smile as he shakes his head, “No.” He sits up to kiss you and groans, “God, what is wrong with me. You’re like.. a drug that makes me sane.. Jesus Christ.”

He laughs and wraps his arms around you as he tilts his head to kiss you. You wrap your arms around his neck and giggle against his lips, “I wish we could just stay here forever.”

You look over to the window, reaching up to draw a heart. Rafe watches you, a smile resting on his lips, “If they were really your friends, they’d understand that I’m not trying to hurt you.”

He reaches up to tuck hair behind your ear, “It’s not what I want to do.”

You nod, “I know, baby. But with them it’s just..” you sigh, “it’ll take time.”

He shrugs, “As long as I still get to have you.”

You nod, “You’ll always have me.” You lean in, pressing a kiss to his lips, “You should probably get me back. They’re probably outside my house waiting for me.”

Rafe groans, “Fine, if you say so.”

You crawl back over to the passenger seat, pulling your phone from your bag.

Kie: are you coming?

Kie: hello? Where the hell are you?

JJ: a sin, y/n. A sin.

Pope: Kie said you were coming? What happened

JB: yo where the hell are you?

Kie: We’re coming to your house. We’re worried.

“Yep. Just as I said.” You sigh as you toss your phone back into your bag, “They’re going to my house.”

“What are you going to tell them?” Rafe asks, taking your hand into his, “You gonna tell them the truth, or..” he looks over at you and you shrug, “I think I’ll just tell them that I was thinking about collage.” You shrug, “I don’t know. I want to be honest with them, but I just know how they’ll react.”

“Tell them whatever you want, y/n, and if you want me to sneak in later, I will.” Rafe chuckles, “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

𓂃 ོ𓂃

“Where the hell have you been?!” Kie runs up to you, the guys following behind her. She hugs you before you even have time to get off of your bike, “Seriously a text would have been great.”

You get off of your bike and walk through the group of huddled friends, “I was just.. out.. thinking..”

“About what?” John B tilts his head as you turn around and JJ scoffs, “It better have been good enough to miss this fire, y/n.”

You glare at JJ and he raises his hands, “What? I’m just- it’s true!”

Pope shakes his head, “What ever is going on, y/n, we won’t be mad. We want to help.”

You look between them, looking at Kie, “Remember our conversation on the boat to-“ you sigh, “No I can’t do this.” You go to walk away but Kie stops you, “You’re thinking about it.”

You stare at her and the guys look between each other, confused.

“Thinking about.. what?” Pope shakes his head and you swallow, “College.”

“You’re thinking about leaving?” JJ asks and you shrug, “I don’t know, maybe?”

“No.” Kie shakes her head, “That’s not it, is it?”

You shake your head, “I just- no. I can’t tell you. Just.. go home, guys. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

“No, you can’t just leave us on a cliff hanger like that.” JJ yells and right when you turn around, you see a car pull up and your heart skips a beat, “Fuck.”

“What’s he doing here?” John B asks and you all watch Rafe get out of the car, walking around to the group. You shake your head, “Rafe, I didn’t-“

He cuts you off, “Look, I love her and I promise to-“

JJ walks up, socking him across the jaw and you gasp, “JJ!” You run up and push him back, turning to look at Rafe, “You good?”

“Wait..” Kie scoffs, “What’s.. what do you mean you love her?”

“Are you and Rafe hooking up?” Pope asks and you nod, “We’ve been, but it’s a lot more than that.” You take a deep breath, “I’ve wanted to tell you, but I just know that it wouldn’t have ended well and I just-“

“Is that why you haven’t been busting our balls every time you’ve seen us?” John B asks and Rafe nods, “Y/n told me to lay off so.. I did.” He rubs his jaw, “Nice right hook, Maybank.”

JJ smirks, “Thanks.”

“This.. is so weird..” Kie shakes her head, “So you skipped out on the party to see him?”

“No, I skipped out on the party to talk to the only person I know who wouldn’t freak out about me bringing up the idea of college.”

“So did you come up with an answer?” John B asks and you nod, “Yeah. I’ll stay, but it’s not going to change anything between Rafe and I so if you have a problem with that.. that’s on you.”

They all stay silent and look around before JJ raises his arms, “I guess we’re having a non-voyage party then right?”

He claps his hands, “Back to JB’s we go!” He looks at Rafe, “And yeah.. as long as you really love her and treat her with the upmost respect, you can come, too.”

𓂃 ོ𓂃

Haven’t written for the obx in a while, I hope it’s up to par! I love you! Thank you for reading! I’ll catch you in the next one! 🖤

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

206 notes · View notes

neiptune · 1 day ago

Text

this town is fake but you're the real thing

cw: 11k wc, female reader, social media relationship, suna downloads an app that randomly matches anonymous users with each other because osamu thinks it'll help him open up more, strangers to lovers, romance, pining, so much texting, suna is as emotionally constipated as it gets

Against all expectations, it’s Osamu who managed to get under his skin.

An innocent night out to celebrate the new Onigiri Miya branch in Shizuoka, a few beers shared on a bench by the port, what started as innocent conversation about each other’s dating life soon turning into a painfully precise evaluation of why he can’t seem to find someone worth keeping around.

“You don’t really open up to them”, his friend shrugged.

“I open up to them plenty. I’ve been with Yuki for three months”, Suna refuted such harsh remark with a scowl.

“Yeah”, Samu mused, “have you ever shared anything about your friends and family? What’s the most vulnerable thought or feeling you discussed?”.

Rintaro took a moment to reflect, begrudging silence weighing more each second spent quiet.

“She met Motoya”.

Osamu rolled his eyes, “Shit, you’re right— can’t believe ya didn’t propose. Meeting Komori’s the real deal”.

“You know, if I wanted to hang out with the twin who’d be a pain in my ass, I would’ve called your brother”.

With a snort and a handsome grin, Osamu lightly bumped his shoulder against Suna’s. “Ya love us”, then his gaze softened as he took a swig from the bottle, “I’m just sayin’. Maybe a relationship is not what you need right now”.

“Then what do I need?”, despite a fiery remonstrance, Rintaro found himself leaning onto Osamu’s judgement. He’d always been very good at reading people, much like his brother, but Samu’s approach was always balanced and, most importantly, sincere. Perhaps he was right. Perhaps there was something he’s missing about himself, something that shined bright for his best friend to catch instead.

“A connection, dumbass”, Osamu lightly pat his shoulder, “it doesn’t have to be romantic. It definitely doesn’t have to be sexual. You need to find someone you can talk to”.

“I talk—”

“Someone who isn’t us. Not me, not ‘Tsumu”, he ignored Rintaro’s indignant scoff, “not Shinsuke, not Aran. You need to get out of your comfort zone with someone new. A stranger!”.

“A stranger? You want me to stop someone on the street and casually ask them to listen to whatever trauma is tied to my fear of flying?”.

“Start small”, Osamu’s eyes glinted with the excitement that a good idea usually brings, “try that app Bokuto was trying so hard to get Sakusa to download. Matchpal, was it?”.

“Sounds like a great way to have a fifty year old creep flash me with a dick pic. No, thank you”.

“I’d think about it. Ya know, we’re not getting any younger. Like ‘Tsumu said, you—”

“I should hurry up before I grow old with only my emotional unavailability to keep me company, I remember”, Rintaro finished his beer with a grimace. Osamu chuckled, eventually dropped the topic, but the suggestion remained unpleasantly hanging over his head both like a succulent fruit and a risky presage.

So now he’s slumped in the living room of the spacious apartment the EJP provides, a quiet Friday evening spent cooking some stew for dinner and facetiming his family. The tv is on as a distraction and an easy way out should things get uncomfortable. Surely Dwight will keep him grounded.

Suna’s already downloaded the app but it takes one episode and a half to muster the courage to actually tap on it.

The interface is pretty easy to navigate. It seems he’s supposed to create a minimalist profile first and then he’d be free to start a new, random chat. Users can opt out anytime or, if they wish to keep a specific person as their anonymous match, add them as a friend and pin the conversation within their personal directory. Nothing too complicated.

Suna’s patience wears thin easily and after a few attempts at picking unavailable usernames, he settles for crysnoopy. Finally, original enough at last.

Since not revealing one’s identity seems to be the point of the entire thing, he can’t upload a profile picture and instead has to select one random avatar from the default library. He picks a cartoon frog with big eyes and no mouth on a light green background.

There he is, an anonymous online presence on a stupid app. His profile only contains a nickname, he/him pronouns, age and a cute icon. No interests listed, no boundaries, not a single space where he could leave a polite note— please don’t send unsolicited dick pics. Not that he ever plans on requesting one.

Suna starts a few new chats, faceless identities either ending the conversation right away upon his dry and unoriginal hey or being as odd as one would imagine strangers in an anonymous community could be.

Lavenderhaze

-> Hi.

Lavenderhaze

-> How are you?

He sinks deeper into the nice couch pillows Atsumu forced him to get.

crysnoopy

-> hey. all good, wbu?

Lavenderhaze

-> Good, bored.

Lavenderhaze

-> Should we exchange nudes or something?

Rintaro sighs. Hesitation is laced into the delay of his thumb but eventually he taps the skip option, Osamu’s ominous words still ringing loud and clear in his head. It’s not what he downloaded the dumb app for, it’s not what he needs right now. Fuck, maybe he really should’ve called Atsumu instead.

A new chat opens after a short loading time and his nose wrinkles when he realizes that he’ll probably have to send the first message this time. The username staring back at him is original enough to make Suna take a few seconds to think of something equally entertaining to say. The whole thing is never going to work if he doesn’t take it seriously and actually puts some effort in it, right?

He looks up from his phone for a second. Then, a loud ping makes him jump.

Unfinishedusernam

-> When you shower, do you actively wash your legs or just let soapy water rinse down on them?

Rintaro almost huffs out a laugh. Original username and approach? A good enough start to ignite the hope of finally be talking to someone sane.

crysnoopy

-> I don’t shower.

A beat passes, then the small animation of a hand idly scribbling with a pencil indicates that you’re typing something back.

Unfinishedusernam

-> That’s hot.

-> Why the username?

Suna’s lips twitch, not a smile but almost. He wants to type an equally sarcastic reply, brush the question off and maybe ask something more interesting instead. But then he remembers what he’s doing and forces an honest reply out of his fingers.

crysnoopy

-> my little sister used to scream like an eagle when she cried, the one thing that always shut her up was a snoopy plush I won at the arcade.

Suna barely registers that his leg starts bouncing lightly as he watches the little hand appear on the screen once more.

Unfinishedusernam

-> I’m glad it’s something cute :)

-> Lowkey thought you were an incel

This time he really does snort out half a laugh.

crysnoopy

-> if I was I would’ve asked why your username is edging me.

Unfinishedusernam

-> Fair. So… you do shower, right?

crysnoopy

-> I promise I do.

Unfinishedusernam

-> Damn, my incel detector has truly failed me.

-> You seem suspiciously normal btw, I feel like we could have a conversation that doesn't involve dicks

Suna’s hand blindly reaches for the remote to lower the volume of the show he currently doesn’t seem to need as additional emotional support.

crysnoopy

-> likewise. wanna make it official?

Unfinishedusernam

-> Jeez, at least buy me dinner first

Rintaro’s beat to it, before he can even click on the option there’s already a colorful notification popping up on his screen, informing that he has a new friend request.

He accepts it.

It took some convincing for Samu to agree but, eventually, the spot on the pull-out couch became his. Between Hyogo and Shizuoka, with imminent plans of further expanding in Tokyo, he’s always travelling to make sure the shops are keeping their top quality standard high. The Shizuoka branch is still too recent for him to retreat back to his hometown for good, so he’s there most of the time. Suna had to call him an idiot a million times before Osamu accepted his hospitality, never one to ask for anything, always first in line to help others instead. Suna thinks he still didn’t call him an idiot enough times.

They’re both gone most of the day anyway, between the restaurant and training. The season is about to start and the trip to Osaka feels more imminent than ever, Suna knows he has to be at the top of his game to perform exactly how he’s expected to. Which means, no distractions. He does a good job at avoiding those, dating apps left unopened and the way home now shorter than usual, to circumvent his favorite bakery. Those blueberry muffins will have to wait. Samu’s healthier alternative with gram oats and bananas is one hell of a substitute anyway.

Suna loves his friend, he really does. The house feels less empty when he’s around and there’s always a homemade meal tucked somewhere in the fridge. They share breakfast when they get up at the same time and night conversations at the kitchen table if Rintaro manages to stay awake late enough to wait for Osamu to be back.

But sometimes, being alone is easier. No explanations owed for the one distraction he seems unable to give up, no curious raise of the eyebrows he’d have to confront when the familiar ping from his phone prompts an immediate reaction the wrong twin would tease him endlessly for.

He’s always been a dry texter or so his friends, teammates and relatives have always told him. Suna didn’t ever think he was supposed to make an effort to become better at written communication, or communication in general. But now, there’s you. A faceless, perhaps not entirely sane someone who makes him check his notifications way too often, insides spasming when the message doesn’t come from one of his groupchats and the Matchpal icon flashes across the screen instead.

Suna likes talking to you, so much that he often finds himself being the one to text first. It’s okay if you’ll take hours to get back to him sometimes, he knows for certain that the message is eventually going to light up his screen and that’s enough to make him smile. Sometimes you text first, at either ungodly hours in the middle of the night or during the day, if you’re bored at work. He doesn’t know what your job is, you don’t know precisely what Suna does either because, again, anonymity. The only detail he’s familiar with is that you’re often around “wearing but rewarding humans”, as you’d once put it. The one thing you know about him is that he’s an athlete, something you had briefly teased him for.

When he’s not talking to you, when parts or even the entirety of days that used to belong to him and his routine alone are devoid of your messages, Suna finds himself thinking. Or rather, imagining. There’s a lot he doesn’t know and he refuses to overwhelm you with questions, therefore his mind desperately tries to fill in the gaps to no avail. Are you spending the evening reading a book, watching a tv show? Did you cook dinner or order takeout? How happy are you that it’s been raining for three days straight on a scale of ‘I can only function if it’s sunny and bright’ to ‘leave me in a storm and watch me flourish’ ?

Most times, Suna simply plugs the charging cable into is phone, switches off the bedside light and hopes to wake up to one of your texts. They seem to be making an increasingly dangerous difference between a good day and a bad one. He’s not entirely sure it’s ideal.

Unfinishedusernam

-> The humans are testing me today. Whatever you’re doing, I hope you’re having fun!

-> Ah, look what my mom baked yesterday. Told her I have a friend who’d love these :)

-> [IMG_65209]

Rintaro, elbows resting on his knees and towel haphazardly thrown around the neck, smiles at the screen. God, he hasn’t had a blueberry muffin in over a month, but what he’s really focusing on is that you’ve mentioned him. To your mom. There’s a low, static buzz in his ears now, punctuated by the thumps of his heart growing louder. It makes you feel more real, it also makes something simmer in his stomach.

crysnoopy

-> I’m at training.

-> They look really good. Send me one immediately. How was family dinner?

He’s enabled auto-capitalization for the first time in his life, for god’s sake. The Inarizaki groupchat was so disturbed Atsumu decided to apply the same additional authenticator method used by his online banking and forced Suna to reply to a secret question. One only the real Suna would know the answer to.

He successfully demonstrated the needed personal knowledge concerning the color of Aran’s lucky underwear in high school and thus confirmed his identity.

Unfinishedusernam

-> It was nice! I love spending time with them

-> How’s training?

Rintaro finds himself wanting to give his identity shape too. It’s the first time he’s seen your hand, holding that tupperware underneath the dim light of your mom’s kitchen. He wants to feel more real for you, too.

He snaps a picture of his hand holding a half-empty water bottle, careful to hide his shoes. Not that you’d be able to immediately tell he plays volleyball from those, but just in case. You do get to see part of his legs though, shorts and their very recognizable colors kept out of frame.

crysnoopy

-> [IMG_65209]

-> Almost done, very tired

He watches as the little hand scribbles, then stops. It resumes the writing, then stops once more. His leg is bouncing again, teeth sinking into his bottom lip. He straight up jumps when, suddenly, someone loudly falls on the empty spot next to him and the bench creaks.

“We’re on a roll today, my blocks are almost as good as yours”, Washio grins, temples shining with sweat. He briefly glances down at the phone Suna almost drops when it vibrates against his palm.

“You okay?”.

“Yes”, Rintaro clears his throat, makes a show of shoving the phone right back into his bag, “you’re in shape today. Motoya too”.

“Ready for Osaka!”, Komori fist-bumps Tatsuki right before sitting next to him with an exaggerated groan, “hey, is your friend still in town? The Miya twin. We could go out tonight, get some drinks”.

“We literally leave in three days”, Suna’s fist lightly lands on his teammate’s head.

“Mocktails”, Motoya sticks his tongue out.

“I feel like I already see your faces enough. And I’m about to see them even more”.

“Rintaro don’t be a grumpy asshole, challenge once again failed”, Tatsuki rolls his eyes, “you’re always glued to that damn phone when you’re not playin’. Let’s go out, have fun, possibly get laid?”.

Suna sighs heavily. “Fine. I wanted to visit Samu’s new shop anyway, we can have dinner and take him with us afterwards”. He should get Osamu a gift, a nice plant or a maneki-neko. He’ll stop by a few shops on the way home, he decides.

“Now you’re talking!”, Washio smacks his shoulder with way too much energy, “let’s ask Nagito too, he’s gonna love some free onigiri!”.

“Hey, we’re payin’ for those”.

“Sure we are!”.

“I’m serious, you ass—”

“That’s enough gossiping, boys. Get back to work!”, by muscle memory, their legs react to coach’s boisterous voice and all three men jump up from their seats. Suna spends the rest of the late afternoon training thinking about the text message hidden in his gym bag.

It’s way past 6PM when training ends, the last half an hour was spent studying opponent videos and then simulating different match scenarios. Suna’s brain feels fried and on any other day he’d be so ready to get a massage, eat a well-balanced dinner and melt on his couch in front of a good tv show until his eyelids would grow heavy.

Instead, he takes the long way home, legs heavy as he explores different shops in search for the perfect gift. He settles for a very beautiful, handmade, porcelain maneki-neko, left paw raised instead of the right one because Suna knows Osamu will always care about having more customers who trust his restaurant rather than having more money.

The shop owner puts the gift in an elegant box and seals the bag with a delicate ribbon, he thanks the old lady with a deep bow and despite his limbs feeling heavy with fatigue, as he breathes in the cool air of the evening, Suna is content. He thinks of the message sitting pretty in his pocket as he heads home.

Unfinishedusernam

-> You have really nice hands

He didn’t open it, not yet. It’s reassuring to have the notification sitting there, untouched and polished against his lockscreen.

It shouldn’t matter that a stranger on an app is complimenting his hands, it really shouldn’t. Then why does it, somehow? Suna is happy you find his hands nice, which feels like a recipe for disaster. As he walks past his favorite bakery, he remembers you mentioning how you enjoy grabbing croissants for breakfast at times. When he told you that he was about to leave for a retreat with his team, after asking if their destination was one among Tokyo, Osaka and Yokohama, you proceeded to list all your favorite cafes, bakeries and restaurants for each of them. Just in case he had the time and wanted to check them out. As much as he tries to keep his distance, something as trivial as mentioning the correct city possibly resulting too risky, you always seem to go out of your way to reach closer. Taking the time to prepare three separate lists of suggestions while simultaneously respecting his boundaries is an effort he deems… unexpected. It feels weird in the best way. He almost wants to tell you it’s Osaka after all, give you something real, something new to hold on to. Maybe he’ll even tell you it’s volleyball.

“Coming home from another bad date?”, the unexpected quip startles Suna as he looks up from the sidewalk to find his not so friendly neighbor directing a saccharine smile at him, trash bags in hand. Not too long ago, he would’ve asked if she needed help with those.

“At least I still go on dates”, he purposefully eyes her attire, hoodie and sweatpants. Suna knows she’s just trying to annoy him, she can see the gym bag.

“With women who are blind, deaf, mute and desperate?”, she offers a sly smile and he rolls his eyes.

“That’s not a very flattering description of yourself, now”.

She huffs out a sarcastic laugh but Suna can see right through it: the irritation and the embarrassment.

“Always a pleasure running into you, Suna”.

“Likewise”, he smirks, “careful with those bags”.

Suna says goodbye with an unbothered wave of the hand despite her giving him the finger, positively happy that for a good while the chances of running into his neighbor will be reduced to zero. Osaka can’t come fast enough.

The thing is, he was surprised she lived so close when they first started chatting on a regular dating app. When Suna confirmed they were essentially in the same neighborhood, she was the one to propose a dinner right away.

Truthfully, it had been a bad day for him, for a number of reasons. Training was terrible, he was worried sick about his little sister’s sprained ankle, his own tendinitis was giving him hell and Atsumu had decided to call him to talk his ear off for an entire hour about the surprise party they were supposed to throw for Kita’s birthday. Yet, he didn’t feel like bailing on his date, so he forced himself out of the house with the worst mood.

Dinner was terrible. Awkward, tense, her growing increasingly impatient about his lack of responsiveness, him snapping at the tiniest, dumbest inputs. The entire night ended up being such a disaster she left halfway through her creamy salmon pasta, a few banknotes tucked underneath a glass of water, enough to pay half the bill. He remembers deflating in his seat, feeling terrible for five minutes, finishing his own dinner and then leaving as if nothing happened.

Suna thought about texting, maybe even apologizing, but he just never found it in himself to actually do it. It was just a bad date, bad dates happen. He’d never seen her before, or maybe simply didn’t pay enough attention to notice her presence, so there was no way he could’ve anticipated just how fucking often he’d run into her from that day onwards. She never failed to remind him of her resentment and, frankly, that ended up igniting his.

Of course Osamu’s leftovers are on his kitchen counter, neatly wrapped in tin foil. He remembers how hungry he’d feel after training, so when he knows Suna’s going to be busy until the late afternoon, he always makes sure to cook an extra portion.

Rintaro lets the gym bag fall onto the floor, right next to the couch he drops on with a groan. He’s already showered, he simply needs to change clothes and head out once more. When he checks the latest messages, his brows furrow in confusion.

Unfinishedusernam

-> Still at training?

Unfinishedusernam

-> Fuck, sorry, that was probably weird.

Unfinishedusernam

-> I really didn’t mean to sound like a creep

Suna really, actually smiles at his screen. You’re insecure about complimenting him, which is sweet. He should’ve complimented you first.

crysnoopy

-> Just got home

-> You didn’t sound like a creep, I like your hands too :)

His heartbeat picks up in pace when the hand starts scribbling shortly after, indicating that you’re online and were probably waiting for his reply.

Unfinishedusernam

-> Ugh, see? Now you feel like you’re forced to compliment me

crysnoopy

-> No I don’t?

Unfinishedusernam

-> Liar. Here, if you’re sincere, compliment these.

-> [IMG_98279]

A laugh bubbles from his throat when he opens the picture of your feet in a pair of fuzzy fox slippers.

crysnoopy

-> They’re beautiful. I’d kill to have an identical pair

-> So you have nice hands and cool slippers, good to know.

Unfinishedusernam

-> You’re a flirt in your everyday life, aren’t you?

Once again, Suna hesitates. He is, clearly he is. In all likelihood, if he knew you in real life, he would be. You’re nice, intelligent, funny, someone he can easily see himself being interested in. But it’s not what he downloaded the app for, he shouldn’t wander in flirty territory, he really shouldn’t.

crysnoopy

-> Only if they own a pretty set of slippers

When has he ever been good at following judicious advice?

Unfinishedusernam

-> Knew it. Flirt.

-> Can I ask you something?

crysnoopy

-> Ask away

Unfinishedusernam

-> Why are you on this app?

He sighs. Flirty territory is easier than honesty territory. A quick glance at the clock on his kitchen wall instills a sense of urgency as he types a reply, as raw and sincere as it gets.

crysnoopy

-> I wanted to find out if I could open up to strangers more than I do with people I actually know

He really fucking hopes Osamu is proud. Let it be known that he’s trying.

Unfinishedusernam

-> Do you think you could open up to me?

Suna exhales from his nose. This is definitely not the type of conversation he wanted to have while on a rush.

crysnoopy

-> Maybe

-> I’d like that.

He waits for a few seconds, chat gone silent. Maybe you logged off, maybe you don’t know how to reply, either way Suna feels a weight lifting from his chest. It’s true, he thinks he might have a deeper conversation with you of all people. A faceless someone who sends him pictures of stray cats and nice sunsets, who makes him smile at silly jokes. He shortly wonders if you’d like to open up to him in the same way, if being vulnerable will ever be on the table. For now, he’s okay with simply letting you know.

Osaka ends up being extra motivating.

The EJP Raijin players have been training hard, religiously respecting their schedules: there’s no time for slacking off, days punctuated by a disciplined sleep routine, physical and tactical training, cool-down exercises, refuelling afternoons and evenings spent cross-training. The synergy within the team is off the charts, they have won every single practice match played so far and the excitement is palpable as the game with the Black Jackals approaches.

Their training sessions are usually shorter. Atsumu insists it’s because they’re in better shape, Suna’s almost punched him in the face over dinner.

When he’s not too exhausted, against all odds, he enjoys spending some time with old friends and acquaintances. He knows it’s going to be a difficult game, Sakusa is a pain in the ass to block and Inunaki, their libero, is very talented. But he thinks he’s ready.

As they stroll through the city when their free days or breaks coincide, Suna is sometimes hit with pangs of a sentiment not entirely foreign. Nostalgia, regret? He can never tell for certain. He misses having his friends around, being in the same place at all times, travelling less. As he thinks of Osamu currently being the only occupant of his large, painfully empty apartment, while he shares a portion of takoyaki with an ever annoyingly loud Atsumu, when he listens to Bokuto enthusiastically detail his relationship with Keiji, he thinks he’s missing out on too many things and he’s past feeling unperturbed about it.

“Shoyo says he’s very happy in Brazil, asked us to visit soon. Ya should come”, Atsumu lightly bumps Suna’s shoulder with his as they walk by the river, in search of a good viewing spot. The colorful procession carrying portable shrines is quickly filling up the boats to be paraded up and down the Okawa river. While it’s still early for fireworks, oh and bunraku performances are about to begin on different stage boats, and the air is filled with fragrances coming from the endless rows of festival food stalls. What an unexpected fortune, to be in town for the Tenjin Matsuri.

“Not gonna crash on your friend’s couch”, Suna’s peremptory tone makes Atsumu roll his eyes.

“Why are you being so pissy today? What’s up, scared you’re gonna lose?”.

Rintaro searches for something in his friend’s annoyingly familiar, limpid gaze as Bokuto snickers next to him. He finds his own affection, honed by years of joint quarrels, reflected in it.

“Rin?”, Atsumu’s worried now, head slightly tilted to the side. Suna offers a tiny smile.

“Do you ever miss Hyogo?”.

“No”, the answer comes quick, “I miss my family, I miss my friends. Yer ugly face especially. Places are just places”, he shrugs and Suna feels his shoulders relax.

“We’re lucky, we still get to catch up”, Bokuto smiles, “it’s okay to feel sad sometimes though”.

“I’m not sad”, Suna grimaces, “t’was just a question. Shut up”.

“Aw, don’t be shy! Keiji always says owning how we really feel is important”, Bokuto offers him one of his dangos and he begrudgingly takes it.

“I feel like… you should shut up”, he gruffs out. Atsumu snickers at that and Bokuto pouts. Suna doesn’t pay attention to any of them, too preoccupied with taking a decent picture of the boats. He wonders if he’ll be able to make the fireworks look as pretty as they’re in real life, to show them to you.

He doesn’t care that you’ll know where he is, it isn’t but a small part of himself he wishes to unravel for you. It’s what you two have been doing, no? Occasionally sending each other messages that go beyond jokes and memes. You now know he has twins as friends, just how much he loves his little sister, his favorite dish. Suna knows you live close to your family and visit them as often as possible, that you always bring a can of tuna in your bag should you come across stray cats on the way to work. He knows you’re scared of the dark and can’t look at blood without feeling dizzy. You’re trusting, extremely indecisive, a fierce procrastinator, you spend too much time on tiktok and are scared to death you’re not going to be able to keep those who are important to you in your life, forever. Suna gets it, really.

He hasn’t been able to say much, you opened up to him as if it was nothing and he still can’t bring himself to share much more than comforting words and feeble details. Who cares if he likes yakisoba? He hates how detached he feels from everyone else. He feels lonely. He wishes he still lived in the same town as his friends. Sometimes he goes to sleep with the tv left on, to simulate someone else’s presence in a cold, empty apartment. He misses his family, like, all the time. The thought of getting on a plane paralizes him. He doesn’t think he’s good enough at volleyball, his team may lose and it would be his fault. He doesn’t think he’s good enough.

“Taking cute pics for your mystery girl?”, Atsumu grins widely. Suna keeps a composed facade, calmly snaps a few additional shots, but internally he’s screaming. It’s his fault for expecting a twin to keep a secret, really.

“How d’you know they’re not for my instagram?”.

“You haven’t updated your feed in a year”, Bokuto points at his phone screen, sunarin profile open to prove a point. Rintaro almost snatches it from his hand to throw it into the river below.

“She’s not my girl”, he grumbles instead, “just a random person I talk to. It was Osamu’s idea”.

“It was a good idea. I’ve been trying to get Kiyoomi on that app too, you’re both so closed off”.

On any other occasion, Suna would’ve denied that and retorted with an abrasive remark. Not this time, though.

“Yeah. Trying to improve there”, he huffs, to which Atsumu’s ready-to-take-the-piss expression softens.

“Right. So how is she? Can’t remember the last time you texted with a stranger for more than a week before they were either ghosted or became your girlfriend”.

“She’s okay. I don’t know much”.

“Everyone on Matchpal is anonymous”, Kotaro fills in Atsumu’s knowledge gaps.

“She has to be more than okay if you’ve been talking for over a month”, the older Miya insists, prodding mercilessly at Suna’s discretion.

“She’s funny”, he finally concedes, “and smart. Makes opening up to a stranger look too easy”.

“Smart? Okay, ya definitely wouldn’t be her type then”, part of the tightness in Suna’s chest dissipates as his fist collides with Atsumu’s arm.

“I think that’s the point, though. You don’t know each other and will never meet, so you can admit things you wouldn’t normally mention. Be vulnerable”, Bokuto finishes his dangos and crumples up the small disposable cardboard box they came with.

“Yes but at this point she doesn’t really feel like a stranger anymore”, Suna pauses after saying that out loud, surprised by his own words. When has he stopped considering you a faceless someone on a random app, exactly? He realizes he’s given you a voice in his head. A smile he imagines reacting to his lame jokes, when he deflects tentative personal questions. He’s given you a routine, shared most of his. You don’t feel like a stranger anymore but you’re not exactly a friend. What are you, then?

“Uh-oh”, it takes a moment to realize that the teasing sound comes from Bokuto. Crap.

“And we could meet”, Suna pushes, “Shizuoka is not that big”.

“She’s from Shizuoka? Christ”, Atsumu lets out a low whistle, “does she know you live in the same city?”.

“She never asked”, if the justification sounds odd, his friends are kind enough not to point it out. He doubts Osamu would be as lenient. Truth is, he didn’t ask either: after some time, you had just randomly disclosed the information, probably because you perceived him as a very discrete person. Which, for the record, he is.

“I’m going to ask you this question just once. Do ya like this girl?”.

“No”, obviously not, “I don’t even know her”.

“Oh? But you just said she doesn’t feel like a stranger?”, Bokuto’s eyebrows shoot up.

Suna sighs. His limbs feel heavy but it’s a different feeling than the one he gets after practice, more draining.

“He’ll figure it out”, the weight of Atsumu’s hand on his shoulder feels weirdly comforting.

I don’t know what she feels like, Suna wants to say. He settles for saying nothing, as the hold on his shoulder grows tighter for a split second.

Coach is going to have an earful ready for Motoya if he doesn’t show up on time at practice, in the morning. He’s still out celebrating-drinking with other teammates, their first Tenjin Matsuri an excuse good enough to be late. Suna doesn’t mind having the hotel room to himself for the evening, a welcome novelty: he just hopes he won’t have to drag his friend out of bed the following day.

His hair is still wet, the bed way too comfortable to consider getting dressed. You, a distraction that fills his stomach with fuzzy warmth, something that for a second makes him forget why his phone has been exploding with notifications.

It’s that stupid instagram post he decided to share after a year of semi hiatus, online presence proven only by the occasional story he’d upload. Suna feels particularly caught in his feelings today, so why not post the selfie Atsumu took by the river? His comment is pinned at the top of the section, with over 8k likes.

miyatsumu brothers ��️

Bokuto left a heart too, Samu and Kita some of their usual simple but genuine comments. Love you guys. Miss you :). It’s easy for them, a skill he wants to master as well. It’s not enough for the people in his life to simply know that he loves them, Suna wants tell them more.

He takes a look at other comments, smiling faces with heart-eyes emojis and inappropriate compliments from strangers that make him laugh. He shortly wonders what your instagram looks like. Filled with pictures of you with your friends and family, no doubt. A feed that showcases your favorite food and places, creative outfits, witty captions and sometimes no captions at all. It’d fit you.

His phone pings again.

Unfinishedusernam

-> Osaka!!!!

-> Fuck I’m so jealous, I never got to see the festival :( did you have fun?

crysnoopy

-> I did. Some old friends are in town too, we’re playing against each other soon

Unfinishedusernam

-> Your friends are also athletes???

-> Now I feel bad, this is literally how I’m spending the evening

-> [IMG_62371]

Suna smiles upon opening the picture. You’re sitting on your couch and the hand not holding the phone is doing a V sign, a lidded tray balanced on your legs, tv channel set on a show he’s never been interested in. The lights are dim, the room doesn’t seem too big but it feels so cozy. The way a home should feel. He sees a coffee table and some lit candles by the tv unit.

crysnoopy

-> Looks like a perfect evening to me

Unfinishedusernam

-> I only walked 200 steps today.

crysnoopy

-> I’m like trying really hard to find something nice to say

-> Every morning is an opportunity to create a masterpiece called life?

-> Stop surviving, start thriving?

Unfinishedusernam

-> Fuck you for making me laugh, I almost dropped my dinner

He laughs as well, out loud, then double taps your message to like it so that you know he’s still acknowledging it, despite something more urgent suddenly prompting the quick movement of his fingers.

crysnoopy

-> Hey, remember when we talked about how you’re really scared of losing the people you love?

Suna can almost sense your surprise, it’s evident in the way the little scribbling hand appears and disappears repeatedly as you probably try to think of something appropriate to say.

Unfinishedusernam

-> Yeah?

crysnoopy

-> I feel that too

-> Most days I wake up thinking I’m a bad person

Another pause. This must be the most exposed he’s ever felt and Suna is grateful your replies are not as fast as they usually are because his hands are suddenly cold, palms clammy and disgusting.

Unfinishedusernam

-> Why do you think that?

crysnoopy

-> I don’t do enough to show how I feel and one day that could make them leave

-> Maybe stability isn’t for me and that scares me

-> I get bored easily, I don't want to commit. What if what’s regular, easy for everyone else will never be my thing?

Well, that’s a whole lot of fucking baggage he just dropped on you. His first instinct is to apologize, to ask you to just forget it, deflect with some joke about having had too much to drink and being in his feels. But he doesn’t do that. Why? What makes him want to trust you with all that? Perhaps it’s just curiosity, wanting to find out what a complete stranger would think of the thoughts that eat him alive at night. Maybe he’s hoping for some miraculous solution offered on a silver plate. Or he just wants to check if he’s able to even do the whole being vulnerable thing in the first place.

Your response comes after a couple minutes and Suna doesn’t remember the last time he felt so nervous.

Unfinishedusernam

-> How did you meet your current friends?

He furrows his brows.

crysnoopy

-> Most of them I met in school

Unfinishedusernam

-> So they made the conscious decision of being your friends every single day, all this time

-> Btw getting bored easily is okay. A bad person wouldn’t be asking those questions about himself :)

-> You can always work on what you want to improve

crysnoopy

-> You make it sound too easy

Unfinishedusernam

-> Sometimes it really is tho

-> You’re not too late, you know. Tell your friends that you love them, tell your family that you miss them

Unfinishedusernam

-> It doesn’t have to be easy right away

-> You get to make your own regular. Create your new normal

Suna exhales, reads your messages over and over again. It’s oddly comforting realizing that he is, in fact, not too late yet. Why does he always think that he is?

His phone pings again.

Unfinishedusernam

-> I think you’ll find a person you’ll want to commit to

-> That’s what I tell myself after all my failed dates anyway lol

-> Remember, be the change that you wish to see on tinder

Suna snorts, heart lighter in the hotel room he sits alone in. He could get drunk on the relief suddenly filling his chest, it feels like the touch of a cool hand over a feverish forehead.

Unfinishedusernam

-> Still there?

crysnoopy

-> I’m here

How could he not be?

crysnoopy

-> Thank you

Unfinishedusernam

-> How’s opening up to a stranger feel? :)

Good, if the stranger is you. Apparently.

crysnoopy

-> Mysteriously comforting

-> How are you failing those dates? Do I have to beat anyone up?

Unfinishedusernam

-> Nah

-> It just seems the guys I’m into are never into me

crysnoopy

-> That sucks for them

It really, truly, actually does. He doesn’t remember the last time he felt as comfortable sharing something so personal over text, it’s all so natural Suna is convinced he’d be able to do that in person as well. How would it feel to meet you? Would the magic wear out, is this so easy only because an anonymous profile on a silly app?

Sure, Suna doesn’t know your name or what you look like, but that doesn’t make you a stranger. He knows you enough for the words to almost spill out of his hands, words that press threateningly against the pads of his fingers.

He’d be into you. He’d date you. That’s what he wants to say: there’s no need to know how you look or the name printed on some documents, he knows enough. It’s a weird feeling that scares him and clouds his mind for a brief moment, as he waits for your reply.

Unfinishedusernam

-> That’s sweet of you to say!

-> Last time I went out with a guy I really liked it was a disaster

-> He also lived pretty close to me, thank god he moved now

crysnoopy

-> Well, joke’s on him. He’s missing out big time

Unfinishedusernam

-> Stop being cute, I’ll fall for you

Suna takes a sharp breath. Reading the words does something funny to his stomach, something Atsumu would tease him for.

Shit, Atsumu. The game is so close. When’s the last time volleyball disappeared from his brain like that, with the snap of invisible fingers? Can he afford being this distracted?

Unfinishedusernam

-> This dinner fucking slaps btw

-> They opened a new place in my city, add that to the list of spots you have to visit if you swing by shizuoka

-> It’s called onigiri miya

Suna chokes on his own spit so badly he thinks he’s gonna die as he abruptly sits up, coughing fit that brings tears to his eyes. He stares at his screen in disbelief, sudden reminder of how tangible and close you actually are burning like a slap in the face.

Samu picks up after a few rings, it’s late enough for him to be either still in the shop or getting out of the shower.

“Hey, what’s up? Saw your pic with that scrub—”

“Did a girl come to the shop today?”, the question is uttered with so much urgency the line goes silent for a few seconds.

“My day was great, thanks for asking! I’m okay, eating dinner on your couch right now”, the fake singsong tone makes him roll his eyes.

“I’m sorry, this is an emergency. She just told me she was at your shop today”.

“Really? Did she like it?”.

“Osamu”.

He chuckles lightly.

“Okay. First, please tell me why we care so much that she came to the shop today?”.

Suna loves his friend, he really does. Sometimes he wishes he was close enough to be punched in the face. “Stop being a dick”.

“Fine. A girl did come to the shop today”, Suna’s heart almost stops, “… along with a million others”, he deflates against the pillow once again, defeated. He knows it’s something he really shouldn’t do but he still sends the picture to Osamu, slightly cropped to leave out everything that’s not useful to the investigation. The two things his friend gets to see are your dinner and a V sign.

There’s a pause, one Rintaro swears is filled by the loud pounding of his restless heart.

“I know who she is”, Osamu speaks quietly, in a tone that leaves no room for sarcasm.

“What?”, Suna’s voice comes out thin, incredulous.

“I remember her. Came in as I was about to close the shop, bowed and begged for whatever leftovers I might’ve had. She looked like she had a horrible day, so I just…”.

“Put something together for her”, as you always do.

“Yeah! I usually don’t use those trays but I didn’t have any of the regular ones left”.

“Well, how is she?”, Suna cringes at the impatience vibrating in his voice, it makes him sound desperate. Osamu hums, it’s a voluntarily prolonged sound that makes him scoff.

“She’s really sweet. Apologized a million times, left a generous tip. I think you’d like her”.

“Yeah?”.

“Yeah, Rin”, he’s smiling, “I also think you should tell her”.

“Tell her what?”.

“That you want to meet her, dumbass”.

Suna runs a hand through his now dried hair, lightly ruffles it. This feels dangerously real now, something he could grasp if he so much as decided to hold out a hand. You’re so close. There’s something else simmering underneath the fear and Rintaro recognizes it easily. It’s an almost forgotten eagerness that he’s not entirely stranger to.

“Samu”.

“Hmm?”, he’s smiling again. The asshole.

“I think I like her”.

“No shit”, Osamu full on laughs now, jovial and relieved. Despite the annoyance, Suna feels the exact same way.

Shizuoka seemed different upon his return, an endless pool of possibilities where something would inevitably remind Suna of you. He’d made peace with the fact that he had a crush on someone he’s never met and with that truth also came an endless list of associations his brain couldn’t help but make.

Texting you first, whenever he wanted, became natural. What’s more, it was almost as if you were encouraged by his newly loosened state, that one evening in Osaka opening the floodgates of something else, something different. You trusted him with your most intimate thoughts and so did he. There was no more wondering if you were bothering each other or texting at an unconvenient time. You’d once told him you felt self-conscious about that specifically.

Unfinishedusernam

-> Sometimes I feel like I’m too much

-> Would you tell me if I was too much?

crysnoopy

-> What do you mean?

Unfinishedusernam

-> You know, if I was pestering you

crysnoopy

-> You’re not too much

-> And even if you were, I could handle you :)

You were the happiest when he had told you they’d won the game in Osaka. Heck, you baked blueberry muffins (“to celebrate!”) and asked him to go get himself one so you could pretend he was there to eat yours. And Suna did: he got up from his bed, grabbed a jacket, put on some running shoes and made his way to his favorite bakery with a dopey smile on his face. He then suggested a toast and, what a coincidence, you happened to have a bottle of white wine left unopened for the longest time. The occasion seemed worthy.

And so you both ate and drank and celebrated until his cheeks felt hot and your texts started lacking proper grammar. Suna remembers how it felt, slumped on his couch, lights low and mind dizzy as his eyes blinked and blinked and then blinked again while the message sat on his screen, black against white. He just stared at it, not entirely able to discern reality from fictitious.

Unfinishedusernam

-> I wish you were here

-> I’d probly just kiss you

Suna remembers staring at his screen as a wild joy exploded in his heart and took over his entire chest, scorching and vibrant like festival fireworks. He stared at it for so long he still doesn’t quite recall if he wrote the reply or if the reply wrote itself, because the only other solid memory in relation to that moment is drifting off with an empty bottle of wine precariously balanced on his lap.

He woke up the next morning with a sour taste in his mouth, a throbbing headache and sore neck. His phone had fallen to the floor and when he picked it up, it was with a heavy heart that he noticed you hadn’t replied.

crysnoopy

-> I want nothing more

-> I’m from shizuoka too. let’s make it happen?

It wasn’t unusual for one of you to leave the other on read and it wasn’t like Suna to hyperfixate on not receiving a reply but this time, for some reason, it felt different.

As he got up with a groan and shuffled to his bathroom to take a shower, a strange feeling of dread strangled his body from the inside, his mind running a million miles a minute. Were you disgusted? Mad, that he had kept his location a secret? That would’ve been unfair, though, and you had always proved to respect his boundaries. Maybe it was all a joke, then. You thought of all that flirting as nothing short of a game, something stupid to pass the time with a stranger online. Something that wasn’t real. Worse, something you’d never want to be real, especially if given the chance to make that happen. Fuck.

Suna succeeded in keeping himself fairly busy for a few hours that day: he cleaned his whole apartment, did some meal prep, called his mom, called his sister, even called Atsumu. Your silence kept throbbing at the edges of each minute, it became so unbearable he ended up sending you a picture of an aspirin package with a funny caption, to test the waters.

You never replied. Not that day, not the following day, a week later your chat is still painfully empty. Or rather, filled with all the messages he’s sent before giving up.

crysnoopy

-> Killer headache town, population: me

crysnoopy

-> How are you feeling?

crysnoopy

-> Hey, everything ok?

crysnoopy

-> I’m so sorry if I made you uncomfortable.

-> I was really tipsy, I didn’t mean it

crysnoopy

-> Or at least I didn’t mean to sound so pushy.

-> I’d never pressure you into doing anything, let alone meet me

crysnoopy

-> I’ll give you space if you need it, can you just please tell me that you’re okay? It’s been three days

crysnoopy

-> Okay. I’ll be here if you ever come back.

He’s so mad at you. Weren’t you the first one coming forward with all that stuff about wanting to kiss him? Why would you disappear? He’s apologized, what else can he do? Was it all seriously worth so little to you?

Suna feels as if the days are longer now, training unbearable. Instead of keeping his mind occupied, all it does is remind him of how badly his blocks suck lately. He doesn’t pick up when Osamu calls, he’d read everything there’s to read in his seemingly inexpressive tone. He’s mad at himself, for not noticing how stupidly attached he’d become. Is it normal to miss you so badly? He doesn’t remember the last time he missed someone just as much. The world is cruel in relentlessly reminding him of you: an advert you’d find funny, that movie you’d recently discussed making a comeback in cinemas, sunsets painting the sky in orange and lilacs so similar to the ones you’d send him, a pair of fuzzy fox slippers on display in a shop window on the way to the gym.

The toxic part of his brain is ruthless in reminding him that this is why he refuses to open up to new people. That this is why he never lets himself be actually vulnerable and simply plays along: it’s because he’d be left with nothing but mockery, humiliation and loneliness.

But Rintaro doesn’t want to give that part of his brain any more solidity. What he wants, is to be proud of himself. Relieved, even. He wants to feel happy for having been brave enough to take a risk, to trust, to open up. He wants to relish in the joy that the brief encounter with you, anonymous and all, gave him. So what if you never come back or talk to him again? That’s on you. He’ll miss you for a good while, will probably always wonder what you’re up to from time to time, but he’ll be okay. You gave him much more than what you’re probably aware of and truth is, he’s grateful. He just hopes you’ll always be okay too, he hopes life will treat you well. He hopes you don’t regret trusting him with your most intimate thoughts, ever.

It’s not like he doesn’t reread some of your messages, to keep himself company. The most recent ones still have the not entirely pleasant effect of twisting his insides. He’ll have to delete that folder of screenshots eventually.

Unfinishedusernam

-> I’m so glad I stumbled over you on this stupid app btw

Unfinishedusernam

-> You’re sweet, snoopy :)

Unfinishedusernam

-> Today was shit

-> Sometimes I think about how it’d be to have you here, at the end of shitty days

Unfinishedusernam

-> Stop flirting with me, it’s working

Unfinishedusernam

-> I feel so slilly

-> can you evne like someone you nevee met?

Turns out, you really can. He just never fully got around to telling you properly.

And then, one day, Suna’s blocks don’t suck anymore. In fact, they’re just as good as they’ve always been. He speaks with Osamu on the phone, a little bummed that his friend doesn’t have another trip to Shizuoka planned anytime soon: the shop is doing great, his presence is no longer required as often.

“I’ll miss you”, Rintaro still remembers the stunned silence following his words, “come back soon, shop or not”.

The younger Miya twin paused his ministrations, hands sticky with rice, and offered a surprised chuckle, “I’ll be back. Ya can also take a train every now and then, ya know?”.

“Maybe I will. Hey, next time you plan a trip to Osaka, can I come too?”.

“Hell yeah. I wouldn’t have to endure that dickhead alone”.

He talks to Kita and Aran way more these days: when he thinks of one of his friends, he simply grabs the phone and reaches out with a text, a meme or a funny reel. It seems to make them happy.

When his mom tells him that Kaori has been relentlessly asking about visiting her older brother, Suna assures her that he isn’t too busy to accomodate her for a week or for however long she wants to stay. Even if he was, he’d make it work. His mom clicks her tongue, gives her approval for a weekend only, less her daughter falls behind her homework even more. He grins when he hears Kaori scream MAKE IT TWO WEEKENDS in the distance.

Suna hasn’t seen his little sister in months and despite their relationship being exhaustingly conflictual (they are way too similar to each other and she gets a kick out of pissing him off), he loves her deeply and she trusts him just as much. Sometimes being home without him can become a lot and it’s not like she ever directly admits it but he’s pretty sure Kaori misses him, the little gremlin.

He was already 14 when she was born and little Rintaro had faced the news of a new addition to the family (a female, no less!) with infinite crankiness. He huffed and puffed and complained about having to share a room and a bathroom throughout his mom’s entire pregnancy, then a pink little bundle of dark hair and eardrum demolishing shrieks held his pointer finger in her tiny fist for the first time and he swore to guard her with his life, forever.

Suna wakes up extra early to clean the bathroom and his room, which he’s going to give to his sister, and make it girl-appropriate. He always goes on a tiny shopping spree before she visits: kitchen cabinets are now filled with her favorite snacks, there’s a colorful set of strawberry handcream, lotion and lip balm on his nightstand, a sweatsuit set neatly folded on his bed, the expensive vanilla body scrub their mom wouldn’t get her sits pretty in the shower.

He texts her before heading out for practice, demands she keeps him updated about her position. Kaori send a thumbs up and the picture of the blurred view outside the train window.

Unfortunately, as it often happens, coach announces the team is required to stay longer than he had anticipated and Suna doesn’t dare explain that he’s actually in a terrible rush because Motoya has been playing like shit and, of course, that becomes everyone’s problem.

“Get it together, man”, he hisses, way less patient than usual. Komori pouts.

“I’m trying”.

“Try harder!”, Washio snickers from the other side of the court.

It’s not until an hour later that Suna can dash through the gym doors, already forty minutes late to the appointment his sister had agreed on in the morning. When he notified her about the extra training, she didn’t falter.

-> No worries, I’ll find the house.

The train station isn’t at all far from his apartment, a mere 15-minute walk, but Kaori hasn’t visited in a few months and she’s not exactly known for her acute sense of direction. She’d get lost in her own house if it wasn’t impossible to achieve that in a small two bedroom apartment.

“Why is your damn phone going to voicemail?”, Suna grumbles to himself in the middle of the street, torn between running to the station or straight home. It’s not dark yet but the sun has set and Kaori knows very well the one thing she’s never allowed to do is turn her phone off, especially if him or their mom are not aware of where she is.

Right as he decides to head to the train station first, he hears her voice. There’s someone taller with her, which makes the hairs behind his neck stand up right away.

“Kaori!”, he damn nearly trips over his own feet as he rushes towards his sister in the opposite direction, gym bag almost falling off his shoulder while she chats with god knows who without a care in the world.

“Rin”, she stops right in her tracks, “sorry, kinda got los—”

“Why the hell is your phone turned off?”, as if to underline his point, he impatiently taps on his phone screen a few times, another call interrupted by immediately going straight to voicemail. He only now realizes how breathless he sounds.

“Battery died, I forgot my charger at home”, Kaori juts her bottom lip out. She’s the spitting image of her brother. “I was lucky to meet your friend right outside the station”, she looks up and so does he, features morphing into a horrified expression. Out of all people.

“You… what?”, Suna doesn’t know what to say. Was his neighbor even capable of smiling like that?

“It was nothing! We had fun, didn’t we?”.

Kaori nods. “We fed some stray cats on the way here. It’s so weird that you had canned fish in your bag, though”.

“I always carry some! Didn’t you see how hungry Mochi was?”.

For the following seconds, Suna is incapable of uttering another word. It becomes weird enough for his neighbor to wave a hand in front of his face, brows furrowed.

“Suna?”.

“Yeah”, he replies on autopilot, “Yes. I mean, thank you. Kaori, let’s go”, he eyes his sister’s large, pink, glittery backpack. Hanging from his neighbor’s shoulder.

“Uh, actually”, his sister coughs.

“What now?”.

“I kinda need to use the bathroom”.

“You can use it at home? It’s a ten minute walk from here, let’s get going”.

“I kinda need to use it now”.

“Kaori”, he sighs, “it’s ten minutes”.

“I live right here”, the woman from his nightmares indicates the house behind her, “wanna make a pit stop?”.

“Absolutely not”, Suna clears his throat, “she can hold it”.

“She can’t”, Kaori shrinks in herself a little, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

“Fine, I guess we are making a pit stop”, he mutters and his sister exhales in relief, grabs his neighbor by the sleeve and urges her to open the door, quick quick quick please.

Suna watches his sister dash upstairs with a snort as he takes her backpack. It’s heavy as a rock. The hell did she put in there?

“You’re not gonna catch fire if you come in, you know”, his neighbor fixes him with a sarcastic glare as she takes off her shoes, letting her own bag fall to the floor.

“Sorry for the trouble”, he steps in at last, with a low grumble that allows a chuckle to surprise him.

“Don’t be too hard on her. She was panicking, I offered my phone but she didn’t remember your number. I asked where she was supposed to go and when she mentioned the neighborhood, I inquired about her brother’s name. Pretty lucky, huh?”, she’s not looking at him, busy taking off her jacket as well. Suna’s gaze softens.

“Yeah, really lucky. Thank you for taking care of her”.

“I also have a younger brother, I know what it feels like”, she smiles, looking at him at last, “one time we went to a festival without our parents, he thought it’d be funny to play hide and seek without telling me. I think I aged ten years that night”.

“She also used to run away so much as a kid. It’s in our blood, I was the exact same”.

“Doesn’t surprise me for some reason”.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”.

“I’m done, we can go now”, Kaori hops down the stairs, two steps at a time, then glares at her brother. Golden, foxy eyes narrowed. “You’re not being rude, are you?”.

He rolls his eyes but, before he can reply, someone beats him to it.

“He’s never rude to me. We’re friends, remember?”, Suna watches her wink with a smile so warm. Is that really the same person he runs into almost on a daily basis?

Astonished, he witnesses that little, usually quiet, reserved gremlin smile back at his neighbor. Then, remembering how important formalities are in their family, she thanks her with a deep bow. It’s only then that he notices them: fox slippers. Cute, pointed ears, bushy tales and everything.

They both jump when the steel water bottle hits the parquet flooring, Kaori dramatically clutching her chest. “Can you not be a weirdo for five seconds?”.

His neighbor (could it be…???) furrows her brows in genuine confusion. “I think volleyball finally started affecting his brain. Better take him home”.

“Yeah. Let’s go, loser”.

“Shut up, be thankful mom’s not here”, he fires back, fake annoyance to cover the fright that gnome’s actually caused. Suna’s heart is racing for an entirely different reason as he takes another furtive look at those slippers while pushing Kaori out the door, mind racing.

He is completely, absolutely unable to focus. Over dinner, he distractedly listens while his sister paints vivid pictures of boring classes, the art course their mom wants her to give a chance to, the latest fight she had with her best friend. He asks questions and fails to register the answers he gets, over and over again. It’s a relief when Kaori sprints to the bathroom, calling the shots for who gets to shower first. Suna is left rinsing the plates, with a brain that can’t think.

Would it be possible? You’re from Shizuoka. You have those exact slippers. You always feed stray cats. God, the fucking slippers. What are the chances?

He could call Osamu, ask a few questions. Instead, his sister’s voice keeps chipping away at what’s left of his sanity.

Your friend’s cool. I wish my teacher was that nice.

A teacher. Could kids be the wearing but rewarding humans you often mentioned?

He goes back to that disastrous dinner, desperately trying to recall how the conversation felt. What did they even text about prior to that evening? Was that woman as charming as you are? Fuck, he doesn’t remember a single word exchanged that evening. He just remembers being an asshole.

“I’ll be back in ten minutes”, from her comfortable spot on the couch, Kaori watches her brother march to the front door, then bend down to put on the same shoes he wore a few hours before, “lock the door, don’t burn the house down”.

“Where are you going?”, her brows are knit in confusion, never in worry.

“None of your business. Lock the door”.

“Sure, sure, bye”.

“Right now, Kaori”, something in his weirdly brisk tone makes the fourteen year old pause the show she’s watching, not without a dragged groan, and get up from underneath the blanket she had stolen from her brother’s room.

You’re so ready to go to bed early and declare the day officially concluded.

Work was tough, managing a new classroom of overexcited kids had proven to be particularly difficult. Between the increasing pressure from school administrators and the daunting task of creating engaging lesson plans for the new semester, you felt a heavy weariness threatening to swallow you whole.

As you brush your teeth, tired reflection staring back at you, he worms his way back into your thoughts once more. Saying that hearing his name and then seeing him again was unexpected would be an understatement: you were absolutely convinved (and thankful) he had moved. Where the hell did he disappear for over a month? Just to come back and show up like the annoying, irritating nuisance he is. One you can’t seem to whisk away.

Your date was one of the most disappointing nights of your life. Suna, the guy you had talked with for days, the same Suna who was so witty, intelligent and nice, was also just so blatantly uninterested. Bored. He didn’t even make the effort to ask about your day, eyes distant whenever you tried to initiate a conversation. And of course, because life hates you, you have to be reminded of that night every single day because you now see him every single day.

What’s more, you had failed the one person you’ve been able to feel interested in after that big, fat disappointment. Someone who just found himself trapped in the crossfire of your thoughts and stupid, stupid fears. Someone you were selfishly not ready to have so close. Someone wonderful who didn’t deserve your self-serving worries.

You’re already in your pjs when the doorbell rings multiple times, so insistent you almost trip down the stairs as you hurry, terrified that you’re gonna have to face an emergency with pandas printed on your pants.

“What the hell?!”, you instinctively step back as he leans forward, his entire weight resting against the doorframe.

“Sorry, I know it’s late”, Suna takes a deep breath but it’s not really needed. Prior warmup or not, he isn’t at all affected by the sprint through which he covered the distance between his house and yours. “I just had to… hey, can I come in? I’m probably gonna have a heart attack if I don’t sit down”.

You’re staring at him wide-eyed, completely startled.

“Yeah? Sure, come in! Is your sister okay? Did something happen?”, you’re quick to push the door closed as he heavily flops on your couch.

“No, no…”, Suna seems distracted for a moment, eyes scanning the room and zeroing on your tv, which is currently turned off. He stares at it for a while, then lets out a small laugh. “Actually, maybe it’s better if I stand up”.

“Suna, are you on drugs right now?”, the question is serious but his eyes, now fixed on you, don’t reveal any particular emotion besides genuine… amusement?

“I need to tell you something”.

The odd idea that he might be hiding a knife somewhere underneath that leather jacket crosses your mind for a split second.

“Sure…?”.

“When my sister was a baby, she’d cry a lot. I legit thought my ears would explode at some point”, he weighs the words carefully as he approaches you and, for some odd reason, you don’t take a step back. “She’d cry so much, all the time. And then, one day, I brought home a snoopy plush I won at the arcade. It became the one thing that would always shut her up”.

It feels like someone’s toppled a bucket of ice cold water over your head. Suna is standing so close while looking at you in a way you’ve never witnessed, a way so uncommon for him. You can’t focus on the desperation in his eyes and you’d never guess the hopefulness simmering behind a gaze that seems to be discovering you for the first time.

“It’s you”, barely a whisper, but it’s all the confirmation he needs. The relief in Suna’s exhale is intense as he wraps his arms around you and pulls you in. Thank god he does, because your knees feel so wobbly.

It’s a weird sensation, being pressed against him, hanging onto his shoulders for support. He’s warm and smells so good, of bergamot and musk. Your brain can’t quite comprehend that he’s the person you’ve been talking to for the past months.

“I missed you. I’m sorry”, he confesses in the curve of your neck and the words dissolve underneath the thin fabric of your pjs, slowly sink into your skin and bones. “I’m so sorry”, he says again, carefully pulls back to look at you, eyes searching for any sign of discomfort. Mirth flashes across his features for a moment. “Hey, are you about to throw up?”.

“No, of course not!”, you take a tentative step back but he doesn’t trust your stability and keeps a gentle hold on your arms, “why are you apologizing? I disappeared. I should be the one… I should be…”, Suna’s gaze softens, one hand rising up to touch your face but then freezing mid-air, deciding against the risk of freaking you out even more.

“Please don’t cry”.

“What?”, you retort, “I’m not crying. Ew”, but when you touch your cheek, it’s shocking to find it wet. What the fuck.

“Oh, god. Sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me”, a dry chuckle bubbles up from your throat, “listen, there’s no pressure on you. I’m sure this is a real disappointment so, like, we can pretend it never happened and just go on with our lives. I won’t—”

“Are you sure it’s you? The person I’m looking for is pretty clever”, he attempts a smile when you frown, familiar at last. “You think I’d leave my sister alone and race all the way here for a real disappointment?”.

“I think you just wanted to corroborate”.

Suna rolls his eyes, incredulous. “Well, I corroborated. I’m only gonna pretend it never happened if that’s what you want, because it sure as hell isn’t what I want. If you even care about that”.

You angrily wipe your tears, cheeks burning scorching hot with embarrassment. “I didn’t expect you to be so close. I freaked out. I’m freaking out right now because you’re even closer, apparently”.

“Are you disappointed?”.

You look at him, really look at him. His dishevelled hair, naturally narrowed eyes, the bridge of a perfect nose, full lips forced in a severe line. He’s searching for something in your gaze, with fierce determination. How can one person’s eyes be so penetrating? You feel naked, exposed. Vulnerable.

“No”, you reply, sincere, “no, I’m not”. If only you could feel the relief taking over his chest. “But… what now?”.

Suna feels as if he’s seeing you for the first time and, at the same time, it’s like he’s recovering something important, something precious. He’s already trusted you with some of the most important, hidden parts of himself. He hasn’t liked someone that way in such a long time and he’ll be damned if he lets this chance pass by. Again.

He’s not too late. Why does he always think he is?

You curiously watch as Suna takes his phone out and spends a few seconds tapping on it with a smile he can barely hide.

The familiar ping of a notification you haven't heard in weeks makes you stutter.

crysnoopy

-> Now we do this right.

#suna x reader #suna x you #suna rintaro x reader #suna rintaro x you #hq x reader

96 notes · View notes

murdrdocs · 2 days ago

Text

INTERVIEW 030. KICK-ASS murdrtober 2024 remnants. sex machines

Really, you and Kick-Ass should have a handler. Maybe that would keep the two of you from getting into irresponsible, and frankly, odd, situations. Such as this one. 1k+ words MDNI 18+

God, this is so irresponsible. The two of you are irresponsible.

You originally offered to team up with Kick Ass to watch each other’s backs and hold each other accountable. A team, albeit a small one, nothing comparable to Justice Forever.

No other superhero is as active as the two of you, and being alone was never a good look, especially for you. So you needed someone with you, someone strong and recognizable. Someone who sent a message to anyone who even had the idea to threaten you.

Who better than Kick Ass? Plus, you thought he was reliable. Save for the brief stretch where everyone assumed he abandoned his patrols, Kick Ass had been a steady figure in the community, always there to help whoever needed it. In the idea you conjured up of him, he would be that sort of figure in private, too. Someone who would keep you from dicking around as soon as there was a lull on the streets.

Someone who would keep your head straight on your shoulders.

Unfortunately, Kick Ass seemed to be as much of a dumbass as you—possibly even more.

“I mean … when else are you gonna have the opportunity to use something like this.”

And Kick Ass does have a point. The two of you already got what you came here for—a tiny harddrive tucked in your top that you know to have intel about the latest crime boss to terrorize your neighborhood. The penthouse is empty otherwise, and the owner shouldn’t be back for a while, considering she's serving time and all.

You and Kick Ass have the place all to yourselves, but that shouldn’t matter. You should be leaving the way you came out, but as Kick Ass claims: where’s the fun in that?

“What’s it feel like?”

You swallow a moan before attempting to respond, and even when you do, you speak methodically, trying to ward off the way your voice threatens to wobble.

“It feels like I’m being fucked by a machine.”

Kick Ass scoffs. You watch him put his hands on his hips, the muscles in his back flexing. Has his suit shrunk in the wash, or is he just getting buffer by the day? Knowing Kick Ass, it could truly be either. His head turns to the side as if he’s about to turn around, but he stops at the last minute, likely remembering that the one thing you had asked of him was to not look.

“Well that’s not very descriptive.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, did you want me to—” Whatever snarky comeback you were going to throw at him embarrassingly dies before it can be completely born. You can’t help but let out this moan, and to make matters worse, it’s loud.

Louder than the mechanical whirring of the machine working. Louder than the squelch of your cunt sucking up the silicone dildo attached at the end of the mechanism.

You think you see Kick Ass physically shudder, but you can’t tell when you’re struggling to keep your eyes open.

“Is it …” Kick Ass hesitates. He clears his throat and tries again. “Is it better than … you know … a guy?”

You don’t say anything for a minute, too busy trying to balance focusing on the pleasure and attempting to figure out where to go from here. Eventually, you simply say, “Kick Ass?”

When he says, “Yeah,” his voice cracks, but neither of you acknowledge it.

“You can turn around.”

You expected him to question your change of heart. Maybe ask if you were sure. But he doesn’t. He just turns around, the heavy thud of his Timberlands knocking against the hardwood floors one after the other.

You watch his light eyes settle on your face at first, and then slowly crawl down until he’s watching the faux-cock slip in and out of you. His lips part, a voiceless word slipping past them and out into the air.

You don’t have to tell him to come closer, he does that completely on his own. He kneels beside you, attentive eyes flickering back and forth between your spread legs and your eyes with a slight squint that leads you to believe he might need glasses.

Whatever barrier that existed between the two of you before has been completely broken down. You’ll never come back from this, so you might as well feed into it.

When you tell him to kiss you, he doesn’t hesitate. His gloved hands hold your face in place as he practically assaults his mouth with his. It’s sloppy, uncoordinated, and so hot. You’re feeding him moans and he quickly swallows them. You’re sliding your tongue and tongue, mimicking the action of licking ice cream. At one point, you suck Kick Ass’ tongue into your mouth, and he whimpers like a girl. You think he might wet like one, too.

Only one way to find out.

When you pull away, unattractively heaving in breaths of air, you ask him, “Do you wanna fuck me instead? Help me see which is better?”

The pressure is definitely on for him, but he’s so eager with the way he slips his suit and Timberland’s off that you don’t think this could go wrong. And you’re so, so right.

Kick Ass’ eagerness is as useful as it is attractive. You expected his thrusts to be strong and jack hammering, and for a second it is, until you tell him to slow down and then he has passion behind it. Grinding his cock into you, sending all of his length deeper and deeper and gliding his girth along the ridges of your walls. It’s so much better than the unforgiving pace of the machine, and you make sure he knows, too.

Scratching his back, threading your fingers into the curls you’d never seen before today, wrapping your ankles around his back and pulling him as deep as you can get him. You don’t know what you expected, but he certainly exceeds your expectations.

He does wet like a girl, too.

And he’s loud. So vocal as he sings praises about how good your cunt feels (your pussy, as he calls it), how thankful he is that you’re letting him do this, how he’s thought of this ever since the two of you teamed up for the first time.

“I know, Kick-Ass,” you tell him, minutely nodding as you dig your fingernails into the cushion beneath you. “I know. Me too.”

“Dave,” he corrects.

You tell him your name, and then not even a second later you’re moaning his name. He slumps forward, nestling his head into the crook of your neck. His hand comes to the top of your head, holding you to him as you wrap your arms around his shoulders.

“You close?”

You nod, your nose brushing against his shoulder as your breathing increases. “I’m so close, Dave.”

“Yeah? You gonna come?” Dave asks, and you can hear the smile when he says it.

You hit him, because you just said that, but all of the strength in your body is focused on getting you there so it’s nothing more than a weak punch that actually makes him laugh.

“Prove it to me,” he taunts, the competitive side to him that you're so used to coming out. “C’mon. Show me.”

#kick ass x reader #kick ass smut #dave lizewski x reader #dave lizewski x you #icarus writes misc #murdrtober 2024 #kinktober

107 notes · View notes

oediex · 2 days ago

Text

You know what, yeah, that bell hooks quotation wasn't appropriate, it doesn't say what the person who added it think it says.

But I don't think it's fair to say that that man who everyone is pissing on somehow claimed we had to "hold his hand" or "coddle" him or whatever. Or even that women had to do it.

He never once even mentioned the word 'woman' in that post. I'm not excluding that that what he was implying - it's very possible! - but what he said was "the left", and let's be clear, this is his understanding of what the left is. I saw people saying that a "self-proclaimed leftist" should understand that his answer was still drenched in patriarchal thinking. But he never once proclaimed he was a leftist. Perhaps he thinks he is, but all he said was that he got "out" of the "alt-right". For all we know, that means he voted for the Democratic Party and we, who are on the left, all know that's not the fucking left.

The question that was posed was how do we keep young men from turning right wing, and he offered an explanation. An explanation! Not an excuse! Again something that a lot of people just assumed.

And yes, it was a flawed explanation, and yes he has some things to learn, and yes it was uncritical and terribly phrased.

But can we recognise that not everyone has the necessary critical thinking skills to completely dig their way out of the overarching ideology that fucking rules our lives? Critical thinking skills aren't something that we are born with. It's something that is learned, something that you have to train. It's a never-ending project. And from what I know of the educational system in the US? That's not where you get it.

Speaking of bell hooks, at least she understands this. In that book (The Will to Change) she writes that "most men never think about patriarchy - what it means, how it is created and sustained." She writes how the patriarchy sees men's violence and the one emotion they're allowed to have, anger, as "natural". Understanding the patriarchy is something that has to be learned, and you either figure it out yourself by reading, but most of us probably had someone in our lives who talked to us about it, taught us about it, and then we might have started reading more about it.

What if you don't have someone like that? What if all you hear is that the things feminists tell you is bad is what was imprinted on you as "natural" to you?

Here's bell hooks:

Yet no one talks about the role patriarchal notions of manhood play in teaching boys that it is their nature to kill, then teaching them that they can do nothing to change this nature—nothing, that is, that will leave their masculinity intact.

Here's what she says of her own brother:

As patriarchal thinking and action claimed him in adolescence, he learned to mask his loving feelings. He entered that space of alienation and antisocial behavior deemed “natural” for adolescent boys.

She clearly pinpoints the moment of these patriarchal ideas taking hold to be in adolescent, and the question that was posed was, what can we do to stop that from happening? I've seen people say that nothing can be done until we change the material conditions that make it so that men systematically have power over women. And yeah, undoubtedly that is a fight we need to have. But is that truly the only way we can keep (some) boys from falling into the grasp of the (alt-)right? Is there no hope in at least reaching them in the meantime?

I've seen a post saying, "omg of course he goes for misandry" and while misandry isn't real in that men are not systematically oppressed, that doesn't mean that there aren't some out there who express hatred or disgust of men. That's not what the left stands for, obviously, but it is not absent. Here are some comments from the notes on some of these reaction posts (and presumably these are all people who consider themselves leftists):

"you should be hunted for sport"

"makes me want to commit homocide"

"kys right now"

"'leftists constantly said i should die' yeah fucking right"

"we need to double male loneliness and I'm not even kidding"

"I HATE MEN AND THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH THAT. THEY HATE US MORE AND THEY HAVE ALL THE POWER TO DO ACTUAL HARM TO US. Misandry is NOT FUCKING REAL but I wish it was"

"we should kill people who don't get it"

Is that hatred of men (non-systematically)? Not all of it, but some of it definitely or possibly qualifies. And it sure does look like some people (who probably think themselves leftists) think this man (or men in general) are the "scum of the earth" and that they want him/them dead. How else do you interpret some of these phrases?

Now imagine that this is something that you encounter online, and with the help of the stranglehold of the patriarchy, whispers of right wing ideology, confirmation bias, and negativity bias? I can imagine you might end up concluding they "hate you for your immutable traits" (remember patriarchy teaches boys that violence and anger is natural to them) and that they "blame you for everything that's wrong in the world".

Is that the right conclusion? No. But as much as being able to use reason is part of being human, so is not being immune to ideology and propaganda. We wouldn't fucking be where we are right now if that wasn't the case.

How do we teach boys that anger and violence aren't "immutable traits"? How do we educate them about the power of the patriarchy? Well, where does it have to come from if not from the fucking left?

Does it have to be you? No. Does it have to be women? Also no. It's probably good if it's men, and especially men who themselves walked with the right at some point (if someone has already been pulled into the right, rather than catching them before).

It can be a woman though, if there's someone who wants to do it. I don't mind doing it if someone wants to talk about it. Will I be nice? No, I won't hold back and I will tell them if what they're saying is wrong. Will I coddle them? Fuck no. Will I keep trying if someone clearly isn't listening? No. Will I be compassionate? Yeah, I think I will.

Because compassion is really important when you're trying to keep people from falling into the far-right, or even if you're trying to get them out of it (which again, isn't what we were talking about in the first place).

Here's Pete Simi, professor of Sociology, talking about Life After Hate, an American non-profit that tries to help people leave the far-right:

The organization was started by former hate group members who have been doing a lot of outreach in terms of providing testimonials and trainings to schools and law enforcement and other community groups across the country. The focus of their message is the importance of using compassion to inform prevention and intervention efforts and aftercare for individuals who want to change their lives but may need various types of support. I think LAH is a very promising development and I hope it will continue to find the resources that it needs to expand the services it provides.

Being compassionate doesn't mean coddling. It doesn't mean holding their hands and it doesn't even mean being nice to them. It doesn't exclude holding people accountable for their views. It does require patience, though. And I understand that if someone is holding the belief that you are not allowed to exist, that isn't something you can do. And that's fine. It doesn't have to be you.

But somebody has to do it, and it has to be someone on the left.

Now none of that means that the suffering of men under patriarchy, and the fact that this has to be addressed loud and clear, are more important than the suffering that women, and especially women whose oppression intersects with other levels of oppression. I've seen some tags on reaction posts that stated "omg of course centring men in discussions of gender" - but the post was about men. That was the whole starting point!

Because men do suffer under the patriarchy. And it's pushing them to the right, towards misogyny and racism, unless they develop the necessary critical thinking skills to understand their own suffering. And you know who thinks so too? bell hooks.

Often men, to speak the pain, first turn to the women in their lives and are refused a hearing. In many ways women have bought into the patriarchal masculine mystique. Asked to witness a male expressing feelings, to listen to those feelings and respond, they may simply turn away.

Since men have yet to organize a feminist men’s movement that would proclaim the rights of men to emotional awareness and expression, we will not know how many men have indeed tried to express feelings, only to have the women in their lives tune out or be turned off.

It is a form of abuse that this culture continues to deny. Boys socialized to become patriarchs are being abused. As victims of child abuse via socialization in the direction of the patriarchal ideal, boys learn that they are unlovable.

The patriarchal model that tells men that they must be in control at all times is at odds with cultivating the capacity to be responsible, which requires knowing when to control and when to surrender and let go. Responsible men are capable of self-criticism. If more men were doing the work of self-critique, then they would not be wounded, hurt, or chagrined when critiqued by others, especially women with whom they are intimate. Engaging in self-critique empowers responsible males to admit mistakes. When they have wronged others, they are willing to acknowledge wrongdoing and make amends. When others have wronged them, they are able to forgive. The ability to be forgiving is part of letting go of perfectionism and accepting vulnerability. At the same time, constructive criticism works only when it is linked to a process of affirmation. Giving affirmation is an act of emotional care. Wounded men are not often able to say anything positive. They are the grump-and-groan guys; cloaked in cynicism, they stand at an emotional distance from themselves and others. Affirmation brings us closer together. It is the highest realization of compassion and empathy with others. One of the negative aspects of antimale feminist critiques of masculinity was the absence of any affirmation of that which is positive and potentially positive in male being. When individuals, including myself, wrote about the necessity of affirming men and identifying them as comrades in struggle, we were often labeled male-identified. The women who attacked us did not understand that it was possible to critique patriarchy without hating men. Indeed, recognizing all the ways that males have been victimized by patriarchy (even though they received rewards) was a way of including men in feminist movement, welcoming their presence and honoring their contribution.

“in order to create loving males we need to love males” means teach boys that they can be themselves without being less of a man. it means being encouraging and nurturing of their emotions so they don’t become cold and hateful. it means showing boys, early in their lives, that they have value outside of what our society deems proper masculinity. what it doesn’t mean is that it’s our job to handhold men who see women as walking sex toys through the concept of empathy, and maybe if we’re really really nice to them and don’t say things that hurt their feelings they’ll stop killing us for saying no

#bell hooks #racism #misogyny #feminism #patriarchy

21K notes · View notes

claypigeonpottery · 2 days ago

Note

Hi! I was hoping you or your followers could help me.

I'm in my 4th(?) beginners wheel pottery course, and since the class is so small and we've had at least one prior course, the teacher asked us to come with ideas that aren't mugs or bowls.

I've tried to look for ideas, but they're things like colanders and juicers, which don't make me excited.

I appreciate any help!

hi!

I personally am very fond of jars and other lidded containers. lids can be a challenge and I delight in trying new lid-making methods and adding sculptural bits to them

you can experiment with throwing a closed form (I found that very challenging) and cutting it to make a lidded vessel -that’s how I made this little pumpkin

there are infinite ways to alter a piece of clay, but altered pieces with a lid and a place to keep little things is at least 12% more whimsical

this one is hand built obviously but you could put a garlic shaped lid on a wheel thrown jar (a garlic pot, maybe?)

once you get comfortable with lidded vessels, you could try making a teapot! they are a difficult thing to make, and little tiny details can completely change a teapot’s aesthetic (for better or worse lol) but you will learn a lot in the process

(and if you’re anything like me, you’ll then have a teapot that can hold a single cup of tea lmao)

there are also plates, which I found very enjoyable to make on the wheel. and spoon rests! I personally think everyone should have spoon rests lol

other potters (wheel throwers especially) please share any non-mug/bowl ideas that you can come up with!

good luck with your class, and feel free to share pictures of whatever you create! 😁

#I’m actually excited to see other answers #because maybe it’ll be something new that I can try #I’m always looking for inspiration #ask #asks #pottery #ceramics #wheel throwing

79 notes · View notes

transsexual-assault · 2 days ago

Note

tgirl here and your blog changed me. knowing I’m a goddess on earth is such an intoxicating feeling and I’ve become so much of a sick pervert by letting it get to my head. can’t stop cumming to the idea of punishing rapebait ciscunts for teasing my twitchy gock with their bodies. they should know their fucking place and offer me their holes on their own, and it’s transphobic as fuck that they don’t. one way or another I’ll force them to understand that I’m a divine being and they’ll beg for my forgiveness while I empty my balls into them over and over and over…but it’s all their fault anyway, so I probably won’t give it to them.

i love you sis, lean into that feeling because you deserve it! If a cis cunts body is making you hard, she deserves whatever you're dreaming of doing to her. She's asking for it when she walks into your line of sight.

Never forgive them for being rapemeat, they need to spend their lives working as hard as they can to make us happy and their debt will never be paid.

#transfem supremacy #ts assault #ts ask #transfem superiority

69 notes · View notes

babyfoxflower · 8 hours ago

Note

I had an idea, Alastor having strange feelings around Angel Doe! reader, the reader would be an angel, sent from heaven later to help at the hotel, perhaps reader because she is an angel she is very innocent and does not see or understand why alastor acts strange around her

My Angel

Alastor x Fem! Angel Reader

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Mentions of Murder, Jealousy, Possessiveness, No Smut (just cuz the requester didn’t ask for it)

It had been three months since Heaven sent you to help at the Hazbin Hotel, and Alastor for one could not stand it. It wasn’t that he hated or even remotely disliked you. You were a perfectly pleasant girl. A sweet little doe.

You never bothered him with stupid questions. You respected his boundaries, laughed at his old timey puns, and always greeted him with one of the prettiest smiles he’s ever seen. In fact you smiled a lot, something he appreciated probably more than anyone.

You also had the prettiest eyes, the loviest hair, the sweetest face, big adorable fluffy ears, and whenever he saw your fluffy little tail—he wanted to gently tug on it just to hear you bleat.

You radiated beauty and grace, and were beacon of warmth and comfort. Everything about you was perfect. You were a creature of God, never touched by evil or impurity. There wasn’t a single mean bone in your body.

What he couldn’t stand was this strange feeling he felt around you. It was as if he had butterflies in his stomach and his dead heart would beat faster, even occasionally skipping a beat.

What was more annoying was that you seemed completely oblivious to the what you were doing to him. At first, he thought that this was some kind of effect that angels had on others. However when he asked the others about it, none of them felt the same way he did around you.

“Sounds like you’re in love,” Vaggie said.

“Ahahaha! That’s a good one, my dear!” He laughed.

“Hey, I wouldn’t believe it either. But what you’re describing is what it feels like to be in love.”

In love? Was he really in love with you?

Sure, he felt extremely jealous whenever anyone else was taking up your time. Sure, he felt that you should only be by his side. Sure, he murdered a few sinners who were staring at you when the two of you went out for walks together. Sure, there was a time when an especially lowly wretch had the gall to ask you, the most gorgeous lady to ever live, on a date and Alastor ripped the man in half with his bare hands when you were distracted. And sure, he had frequent dreams about you where he would press you up against a wall and…

“Hmm, perhaps what that angry little woman said was true…I’m in love.”

———————————————————————

“Y/n, my dear, may I speak with you?”

“Of course!” You flashed him that gorgeous smile.

Alastor led you away to a corner where you two could have privacy.

“What is it, Al? You look nervous.”

“Y/n, I…You’re making this more difficult by batting your lovely doe eyes at me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you frowned.

“No, you don’t have to be sorry. Damn it! Why is this so hard to tell you!?” He exclaimed.

“I find it easier to just blurt out whatever you need to say,” you replied.

“You’re right. I’ll just say it! I love you.”

You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks, “Pardon?”

“I love you, Y/n. You’re the first thing I think of when I wake up and the last thing I think of before I go to sleep. You’re constantly on my mind, even in my dreams. I love you so much that I can’t breathe when you’re not by my side. When you walk away, I miss you even before you are out of sight. I love you.”

“You mean more than a friend, right?”

Alastor sighed, “Way more than a friend, my darling doe.”

Suddenly that smile that he loved so much returned to your face, “I love you too, my sweet stag! Everything you just said, I feel the exact same way,” you licked his cheek affectionately.

He blushed.

“Oh sorry! I forgot that you used to be human and that humans don’t tend to lick each other.”

“It’s quite alright, my love,” he licked your cheek in the same fashion, “I’m not a human anymore, my doe. I’m your stag.”

Taglist 🏷️: @2dmenforme @xghostnuggsx @alastorthirsty

#alastor fluff #alastor x reader #alastor x female reader #alastor x you #alastor x y/n #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x female reader #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel fluff

71 notes · View notes

ghostofbriggiesmalls · 2 days ago

Text

And to quell dissent, the post 9/11 media (i.e. movies and tv shows - think 24) facilitated this. This is undoubtedly due to influence by the Department of Defense - they pour MILLIONS into funding movies and TV shows every year and give access to military equipment, provide consulting, etc.

They wanted what they were doing to look unpalatable but necessary. And the reality is that MOST people, the military included, bought into that idea. Fuck, I would say even people who should know that shit doesn’t work who were doing the actual torturing probably deluded themselves into believing it does.

Study after study in the post 9/11 world, however, has shown that people will say whateverthefuck under duress just to make the torture stop. Does it make them confess? You’re goddamn right it does. They’ll confess to murdering that guy. And their mom. And to having faked the moon landing. And to having shot JFK. And to being secretly 3 raccoons in a trench coat. Whatever you want just to make it stop. And, for clarity, when people are being enhanced interrogated tortured, it’s not like the detainee is saying “ok, you waterboarded me enough so here’s the plan…” They’re being asked simple questions like, “were you at the meeting” or “do you know Steve” and are being tortured until the torturer gets the desired response. “No” and “I don’t know” aren’t the right answers and result in more torture. So you say “yes” to make it stop.

The FBI was the only US security agency to actually get relevant information from adversaries in the post 9/11 era because they’ve been running interrogations of people for fucking ever and they know how to do it. ACAB. They established a relationship, got the person talking, then got relevant info. ACAB. That’s a normal part of law enforcement. ACAB. Fuck the cops forever but at least they got that right. ACAB.

Interestingly, this is where the movie Zero Dark Thirty is kind of a wild case. When it came out if got MASSIVE blowback for its torture scenes. People were saying it was pro-torture because they show these scenes where a character is being tortured and he ends up giving up information. And the characters in the movie are like, “yeah this is unsavory, but look at how effective it is.”

But, and this is critical, the information they get is wrong and useless. It’s not until one of the characters takes the prisoner out of the cell, starts talking to him, feeds him, and basically treats him like a person, that they get actual useful information. Sure the characters who are ostensibly the protagonists are pro-torture, but the plot shows that it’s actually bullshit and they’re wrong.

All that to say, yeah, torture doesn’t work irl and pretending like it does in media is irresponsible and dangerous because it helps all of us pretend like it does and just keeps us doing more torture.

Things that work in fiction but not real life

torture getting reliable information out of people

knocking someone out to harmlessly incapacitate them for like an hour

jumping into water from staggering heights and surviving the fall completely intact

calling the police to deescalate a situation

rafting your way off a desert island

correctly profiling total strangers based on vibes

effectively operating every computer by typing and nothing else

ripping an IV out of your arm without consequences

heterosexual cowboy

#us politics #media literacy #media tropes

131K notes · View notes

3liza · 1 day ago

Text

everyone arguing with material analysis/assertion about how art is a "luxury" has rarely if ever spent rent or food money on art, if they even pay rent or buy their own food, and if they did that would be considered extremely dysfunctional, and thats what i/we mean. artists are not providing a necessary service.

our plane crashes in the Andes and you are not particularly excited about my "can draw that Playboy centerfold of Marge Simpson from memory" like that is not an essential survival skill. lots of extremely skilled workers work in luxury artisan and craft jobs, it's not an insult to say even a very famous and very talented and influential artist is not producing a commodity necessary for the furtherance of human life. none of us are doing that, no matter how we stretch and strain the definitions of "essential" or even things like "morale" or "group identity". i will burn my copy of Finnegan's Wake to stay warm and thats what it comes down to.

i get foamy crazy snarling and biting about the idolization and obfuscation of what artists actually do because it is a labor issue! the public conception of artists as people possessed of a divine talent they dont consciously work to develop like any other skill, and the public idea that we are simply pleased and privileged to make art all day and "not work", something people say to my face every time i get asked "what i do", is largely responsible for the absolute dogshit reality of how subsistence and working class artists have to survive. we usually dont have health insurance unless we're so poor we qualify for medicaid AND live in a state that will enroll us. most of us are too disabled or crazy to go to a real job every day. most of us have tried, over and over, to enter the normal workforce, and have failed, and been forced to develop alternate skills that allow us to make rent in the ten hours per month we're actually functional. many of the artists i know work from bed because standing up is dicey. this has been turned into a charming eccentricity of famous artists and writers instead of people wondering why a person would need to stay in bed all day and take the enormous bother of bringing their stupid pens and paper and writing board or typewriter or whatever to their bed instead of just getting up and getting dressed and going to work. ive done this, i spilled ink in my sheets. its a huge hassle.

and artists play along with this mystique because people dont want to buy paintings from sadlords! they want to buy paintings and books and marge simpson nudes from cool guys who get a lot of chicks and wear rockstar outfits and party a lot, because of the transitive properties! of course!!! this is basic marketing!!!!! and if the artist doesnt play along they turn into Sad Story Artist where they're doing emergency commissions and posting about how sick they are all the time. this is not cool or fun or sexy. it's a sand trap and its very hard to recover from. im struggling with this right now!

famous and successful artists and writers are constantly ending up 60-90 years old with cancer and multiple sclerosis and dementia, being the subject of some sort of public, last-ditch, humiliating GoFundMe because painting paperback covers fr 60 years means you dont get a pension, you often dont even have kids who can take care of you, you dont have life insurance, you dont have health insurance. 'died penniless and alone' is one of the stereotypical artist endings for a reason, that is not fiction. this happened to more artists than i can list on two hands. look up what happened to Peter S. beagle, the guy who wrote The Last Unicorn. you write a book like that you should be set for life, right? NO. thats not how it works

i'm not saying 'all artists are disabled and working class or poor' because that isnt true, observably. nepo babies and trust fund artists exist, obviously. but they take an outsized portion of the spotlight when the public thinks of the concept of "artist". they are not actually the norm. the average artist is probably making under 40k and living in extremely precarious circumstances and has had periods of homelessness, illness, extreme debt and/or bankruptcy.

this is true even for the 'successful' artists. having one or two or ten good projects and being a household name does not save you from just not having the safety net provided by a normal career path. i was very close with a major, famous 2000s network television creator and team that you have heard of. they won awards, they changed culture entirely, they were a big deal. one of them was turned down for a half dozen projects by the same network that made millions or bilions on their franchise over several years (each pitch is completely unpaid btw, imagine carefully preparing a PowerPoint for morons for months at a time for no reimbursement and thent he morons ask you if you can put a teenage witch looking for her lost cat in the alps in it and you're like, haha, well, it's a 4 part hard sci fi miniseries set on Europa and takes place entirely inside a pressurized lander settlement, i mean Ridley Scot said he was interested already and he pitched a bottle episode about a carbon monoxide poisoning, soooooo....and the executives look at each other and they're like "it's jst not really what we're looking for right now, thanks for coming in" and you go to coffee bean and tea leaf and kill yourself and thats sort of what its like. i made that example up it didn't actually happen i'm using an illustrative example), worked on a canceled film, and just. gradually ran out of money. thats what happens. that guy ended up slowly selling off all his belongings, getting roommates in a one bedroom apartment, and then eventually having to just live on a friend's couch for years. famous guy. you probably know his name. another major member of that same team ended up in GoFundMe/commission hell for years (might still be there) because they had to take care of their two dying, dementia patient parents by themselves. these are people who go to GenCon and sign autographs for four hours at a time. THE PUBLIC IS NOT AWARE OF THIS SHIT and i'm sick of it. im sick of going to a gallery opening night ("vernissage") and drinking bad wine and having a guy with an email job that pays six figures and benefits tell me being able to push "undo" on the computer is cheating. that's a real example, that has actually happened to me. more than once.

artists currently have zero labor protections whatsoever. all of us are undercutting each other in an unregulated market and relying on welfare and private insurance and not having families or buying houses. zero security until we get so old all our illnesses and dysfunction finally ground us permanently and then we get turned into a charity case by fans (humiliating) or just fade away into ghosts and die

whats my punchline? idk i dont have one. it's possible and likely that any given artist you meet is permanently in precarity and will be until they die, even the famous ones. the culture of selling art demands that artists do not admit to this in public unless shit gets really really bad. i guess my point is you should know this, as a person who looks at or listens to or reads things that people have made for your amusement, not for your survival

#blog

113 notes · View notes

threepandas · 1 day ago

Text

Bad End: Century Demons

The steam engine blasted vapor into the air. Cacophonous chatter from the crowds all around us, pressing like a physical weight. I truely did hate traveling. Granted, there was nothing for it, we were needed. Being their Majesty's Special Task Force and all. But STILL! Awful. Just, awful!

It was the pushing, really. The constant shoving. Flashs of insight into lives I wanted nothing to do with. That individual? Marriage was collapsing. This one? Had debts. The girl who just stepped on my foot, thought she was in love, but honestly? Any adult could tell you how badly it was going to end. He was using her.

Frankly, I wish we could walk. At this point? I would honestly take a flipping DONKEY! But nooooo! What has my husband decided to do? "Let's take the TRAIN, darling! It'll be an ADVENTURE! Save so much TIME!"

He's lucky I married him AT ALL. Fuck. I HAD options! Could have been a Baron's wife. Well-to-do! But NO, I wanted to HELP people. Like a FOOL. Gods, my mother was RIGHT! Cute air-heads WOULD be the death of-!

I finally spot Arthur, the sweet idiot, looking lost by our baggage. Map in hand. Like a confused puppy told to do arithmetic or be scolded, his anxiety is palpable. I gather my skirts and shove. Fuck being polite. Everyone ELSE seems to be fine, being stampeding herd animals. Why not I? Move!

"O-Oh thank goodness! Darling!" Arthur gasps, nearly dropping the map as he reaches for me as I get close. His eye are wide and his expression frazzled. Tone as though someone has been compressing his chest. "There are-! There are so many PATHS! I didn't-! And I-! Oh dear. W-what do we do? Darling, I can't-! It's so-!"

Damn it! I KNEW this would happen! This was an awful idea! Reaching for my husband's face, I cup his cheeks, propriety be damned. Pull him close to press his forhead against mine. Match my breath, dear. Focus, darling, just... focus. Close your eyes. You do not See. Curse crowded places and what they do to us. We should have moved to the countryside years ago.

But no, no Arthur would never leave his Sister. And I'll not leave him behind. Damn it all, why? WHY?

Why did she have to pick the Nobility Route?

It was bad enough, remembering this world "wasn't real". That it had a "plot" for Gods sake. Bad ENOUGH to realize that the monster under the bed very much WERE a real and present threat, that I SHOULD be concerned about. But fool that I am? Did I HAVE to fall in love with the Protagonist's brother? Sweet and foolish? A simple, if air headed man? Apparently!

All I could do, now, was try to protect him. Try and protect myself.

Ignore the nasty, judging looks, being sent our way. Piss off! The lot of you! I took no vows to YOU. Stood in no church! There us exactly ONE person in the train station I care about, and it is NONE of you, so keep your snide opinions to yourself! Breathe, Arthur. There we go, dear.

Pulling back slightly, I check his eyes. They flick and track things unseen. He is still unusually pale. He... he will be rather disappointed. He was excited to try the trains. To him? They are a bold new technology.

Maybe once we get farther from the city. Here, at least, he is drowning.

Then, a change. Sudden and swiftly building. Whatever Paths my husband traced were disappearing, narrowing, even as terror sweeped across his face. Only twice I had ever seen this before. Once, was an earthquake. The largest seen in over 400 years. The other? A bombing just before the royal wedding, we had been still engaged then. But the way he had frozen? Mid-sentence?

It is BURNED into my mind. Just like the horror that followed.

Bellowing, I command everyone to get out. Evacuate.

NOW.

But already... it is too late. Down the line of the train, terrible symbols flash into being. Molten red metal, on the side of the train cars themselves, instants before the BLOW. Unspeakable shrapnel bombs. Made of people and metal and MAGIC. The train cars lifted from the tracks by the knock back, smashing into fleeing crowds, even as the next car goes off. And then the next. And the next.

A writhing chain of death.

Like the dying spasms if a great snake.

My husband is frozen. No. As I drag him down? I realize with horror, worse. Seizing. It has NEVER been this bad! What is HAPPENING?! What Path is he SEEING that could cause such OVERLOAD? Terrified, I watch as thin trails of blood, seep from his eyes, his nose. Oh Gods. Oh GODS! Arthur? ARTHUR!

Love! Stay with me! Please! D-Darling, Please! Focus on my voice! You have to let them GO! Close your EYES, Arthur! Don't look! Please, DON'T LOOK! It's KILLING YOU!

"That's rather the point."

I stop. From on the ground, where I crawl. Dragging my unresponsive husband to safety. My gaze finally whips around to ahead of us. Amongst the chaos... stands a conductor. Pressed uniform clean and hair entirely too long. His eyes... oh Gods, his EYES. I do not need to touch him to know. That? THAT is not a human.

Not anymore.

Shrapnel flies harmlessly over us, but comes no where near him. As though where he stands is Forbidden to touch. All around him, those fleeing? Suffering? Do not notice him. Do not SEE. Yet, on instinct alone... avoid him.

Because, of course they do. B-because that?

That Is A Demon.

We weren't even remotely prepared for this. And even if we WERE. Everything is packed away. Pressed to the floor, all I can do? Is drag my husband close. Feel tear begin to fill my eyes and choke my throat, as I curse the Gods. Damn it. D-Damn it! I drag Arthur under me. A-as though... as though we were just... just resting at home. Cuddling, as we so often do.

I-It will be okay, darling. Come back to me. Arthur... Please...

(We promised to go together...)

"He really is useless, isn't he? Can't protect you. Couldn't warn you. Can't even die, where he's supposed to be. Really, how hard is it? To just get on the damned train? Quite inconsiderate, your worthless lump of a first husband. It really won't be hard, no doubt, to surpass him in every way."

I drag Arthur closer. Cradling his head to me chest. You'll have to go through ME, you fucking monster! It's.. it's a laughable defense. I'm tissue paper. We both are. With out supplies and the proper anti-demonics? H-he's going to SHRED us. But... but! I took a VOW.

Married this man.

I... I love him.

Even if he's not awake. Even if he's trapped in his own gifts by this BASTARD of a Demon. That's.. That's okay. I'm still here. W-We're still together. And I love him. Silly, ridiculous, air-headed fool that he is. My quite scholar. M-My best friend. I glare at the damnable creature before us.

"You really do have such lovely eyes." It notes, tilting it's head. "Does he appreciate them? Somehow, I doubt it. He makes you live in squalor, after all. Dresses you in rags and works you like an animal. You were meant for so much... more. I can feel it."

With a boneless grace he squats, bringing him closer even as I try to drag us away, he reaches out. One hand both perfectly human yet tipped with claws. In the distance, I hear doors being forced open. Commanding voices. Prayers and the glimpses of shining light. The Paladins are here.

Too late... I... I fear it is too late.

Demon skin touchs my face and I scream, as I am cast beneath the waves. It is so dark. Oh Gods. OH GODS. IT IS SO DARK. HELP ME. HELP ME! IT HURTS! It HuRtS! HELP M-!

"Shhh, drink deep and sink down, Love. I will be there to catch you. Forget about him. Forget about everything. You are made for so much more. We were meant to be together. Just let go, sweet."

"Just let go..."

#threepandas #yandere #yandere x reader #yanblr #reader insert #yanderecore #yandere otome #demonic yandere #married reader #psychic reader #bad End century demons #bad end century demons au #tw death

44 notes · View notes

zyafics-recs · 1 hour ago

Text

i know this gonna break my heart... sigh... taking deep breaths... let's go ⬇️

It was almost easy, something he wouldn’t have believed a few years back when everything he touched seemed to go up in flames. There’d been a time when he was just too much—angry, impulsive, doing all the wrong things for all the wrong reasons.

first and foremost, i love the characterization of rafe. something about ur interpretation of him feels so lively and real, especially because it relates to his canon. when i was reading thru his thoughts, i was like, woah, rafe would act this way.

He’d been selfish, reckless, it was intense, way too intense, and when you fought, it was like you were both throwing grenades, just waiting to see who’d blow up first. You’d pushed him away, he’d pushed you harder, and you’d both crossed lines that should’ve never even been close.

i love the line throwing grenades, waiting for who to blow up first. ur metaphors have always been some of my favorites, so i always love highlighting and pointing it out <3

Rafe didn’t know what the fuck to feel when he got the news. He knew what he was supposed to feel, right? He’d done it before with his mom, now it was his dad’s turn. The man who had raised him, the one to teach him everything he knew about how the world worked, even if it wasn’t pretty.

i love the turn of internal conflict, that rafe - who has always been loyal as a dog to ward - can have his own conflicting emotions about his father

Ward was a hard man, a strong man. The kind of guy who commanded respect, even if he didn’t always show it the way others might expect. But that’s the thing, he was a man of respect. To Rafe, that meant something. Everything

but at the end of the day, rafe recognizes that he has to set his father on a pedestal because that's all he's ever done. all he'll ever do.

At first, it was subtle—small things. He’d catch you looking at him like you didn’t quite get him anymore. You’d pull away when he needed you to listen, when he was ranting about Ward, and even though you tried to hide it, Rafe could see the dissociation.

that actually hurts, the idea that you're dissociating, going somewhere where he can't follow u? oh the miseryyy

He wasn’t perfect, but he was the only father Rafe had ever known. He was gone all of a sudden and that was what had hurt the most—knowing he’d never get the approval he’d always been chasing, even when he was clean, even when he was doing better. There was no fixing that.

i love u pointing out the validation-seeking 🙂‍↕️

Three weeks after the funeral he spent his days surrounded by a few bottles of scotch he’d stolen right out of his dad’s stash. Who was gonna stop him now, anyway? He almost laughed. Three years clean. Shit, that was something, wasn’t it?

this is such a bitter moment, but it's also shows how rafe just reverts back to his younger self in the presence of his father. that even if ward's death, he will continue to haunt the narrative. also, "shit, that was something, wasn't it?" was such a bitter realization.

Every time he saw himself— on a window, mirror, whatever—he had a drink in his hand, and something about it just felt terrifyingly right.

HE SAW HIS FATHER

Half the people were staring, too. Waiting to see if he was gonna go off, if he was back to the same volatile Rafe he used to be, the one they loved watching spin out. And just when he thought he could ignore it, some random pogue, scruffy, half-drunk, threw out a comment loud enough for the whole group around him to hear.

i love the depiction of seeing rafe as nothing more than a prop, an entertainment for the rest of the kooks. it gives u this zoo-like viewing of rafe rather than human.

It didn’t matter that he was twice as drunk as he should be; all that mattered was the way his father’s name was rolling off this nobody’s lips.

he's so protective over his father

“And you,” you called out, enough to silence the chatter around you. “Keep your fuckin’ mouth shut.”

I LOVE HER FOR THIS SOMETHING ABOUT THIS OWNS MY HEART

You took a step forward, finger pointed at your chest, “Don’t I? Because I remember standing in this very house, watching him tear you down every chance he got. You’re so busy mourning this man who treated you like shit, that you’re pushing the people who care about you away. It’s not just me. It’s everyone.”

she's real and she should speak on it

“Don’t you dare roll your fucking eyes at me,” you retaliated, stepping up beside him. “I stood by you through all of it, I’m not gonna stand here and watch you kill yourself because of him. He’s the reason you felt like you had to be so perfect all the time, why you’re always trying to prove yourself to people who don’t deserve it. And now he’s gone, and you still can’t see it. You’re still trying to be good enough for him!”

i love her but god that must've hurt

His breath was shaky, too fast, but he didn’t care. “So now I’m blind, huh? I didn’t see you sneaking out the door when I needed you? I didn’t notice how you pulled back, how you stopped giving a fuck about me? You’re just waiting for me to give you an excuse to leave.”

i love that he only picked up the things that he hears, not the fact that he's blind to see it, but rather accusing him of being "dumb"

he has such self-destructive tendencies omg

“Don’t. Don’t you dare try to make this about me,” he spat, the words ugly in his mouth, it felt like they were scraping their way out of him. “You don’t get to make me the villain in your story just because you’re tired of playing my fucking hero.”

i love their arguments so much, because it's so bitter, and resentful, and sharp and it cuts so deep. that's one of my favorite things about this series, is when they're talking, they're going all in

That shitty plan had gone down the drain once he saw you speed away at that party with absolutely no regard for your safety or Topper’s. He’d seen that wild look in your eyes before—the one that said you were about to burn it all down. Or when your dad’s gala came around, and he couldn’t sleep properly knowing he wasn’t going to be there that year, knowing how you spiraled every time you had to step on that stage.

SOMETHINGS WRONG GO HELP HER

But how the fuck was he supposed to act when the girl who had been everything to him was hurting?

my favorite line

He blinked, thrown off. “I broke her heart? She broke mine!” He laughed, but it was harsh, bitter. “I did us a favor. We were just—”

he's hurt too (but he's a dick) but he's hurt too 🥹

He had no reason to stay, you’d made it clear as day. He was supposed to be gone—out of your life for good. You’d told him you didn’t need him, he told you he didn’t need you. So why the hell was he still standing here?

i love the lingering love, especially because i believe rafe to be the type of person who cannot mourn loss whatsoever, he keeps it in his chest forever, when he loves someone, he'll love them forever

“I don’t think that’s the problem,” she murmured, with a knowing sadness. “I think the problem is that you two will never stop loving each other. He’s still hurting from dad’s passing, he’s angry because he doesn’t know how to stop loving you. And you—you’re here, angry that he loved my dad so much, hurt that he left, trying to protect me from him, still worrying about me when you should be focusing on yourself. You’re scared he doesn’t care anymore, and he’s scared you don’t need him at all."

ONE OF THE BANGER LINES OF THIS PART AHHH

“You’re allowed to be someone without him, and you’re allowed to find out who that is.”

oooo i love this, sometimes i be forgetting they're toxic.

💌 — i love love their argument in this one. i love how u manage to capture rafe's essence with this characterization, especially post-ward, because i often don't read a lot of fics with ward being a dead presence but haunting the narrative. and that make rafe's viewpoint so conflicting, especially since he's trying to grieve but come to terms on who his father is. i absolutely love how u build up to their breaking point, because they have all these things festering under the surface that neither are willing to talk about until someone breaks, and that's how their relationship dynamic is. every time we get to see an insider scope of rafe's head, i am amazed, because the way he analyzes things, flowing from one thought to the next, makes sense. he's insecure, he's grieving, he's angry, and all of these emotions are hitting him at full-force and no one is allowing him the proper space to actually deal with them—especially because ward never did. and when their argument was just bitter shots at one another, just to hurt each other, you know it hurt. oh oh, gigi, u amaze and fascinate me so much!!

LOVED YOU AT YOUR WORST - r.c series - SIX

pairings: ex!sweethearts; rafe x thornton!reader; rafe x sofia. chapter warnings: mention of pregnancy; abortion; lack of self-care; drug and alcohol addiction;

Rafe had been clean for the past three years.

Over the course of the year, things between him and you had been smooth sailing.

Eventually, both of you learned to talk instead of shouting, learned when to back down instead of pushing buttons just to get a reaction. You’d gotten better at letting each other breathe. He’d pull back when he felt himself getting heated, and you’d do the same.

It wasn’t perfect; sometimes you’d still get into it, still end up in an argument that felt like old times, but it was different. There were no more lines on the bathroom counter, no disappearing at all hours.

Until Ward died.

Ward was a hard man, a strong man. The kind of guy who commanded respect, even if he didn’t always show it the way others might expect. But that’s the thing, he was a man of respect.

To Rafe, that meant something. Everything.

Ward had shaped him, he couldn’t just forget that, couldn’t act like that wasn’t important.

At first, you were there for him, no question.

He knew you hated Ward, you barely tolerated the thought of him even existing in the same room as you. You spent those first few weeks with him, making sure he didn’t spiral back into the shit that nearly destroyed him. He needed the support, even if he didn’t always know how to ask for it.

You were there, holding it down. You got through it, the late-night talk, but then, you started getting distant.

He pretended he didn’t sense it, tried to tell himself you’d come around.

After all, this was his grief, and no one else was going to understand it the way he did. His dad had been everything to him—maybe not in the way you thought he should’ve been, but that was just the reality of it.

For the first time in years, it felt like you weren’t there with him. It didn’t make sense to him how you couldn’t see it.

Ward had been a tough guy, sure, cruel sometimes, but he was also a provider, a father who tried to teach him how to survive, even if it didn’t always come wrapped in the right way.

He wanted to mourn in peace, but no one seemed to understand why Ward still mattered to him, not even Sarah.

He’d had people telling him he wouldn’t make it three weeks, let alone three years. Shit, his dad sure didn’t think he’d get this far. Only you.

Rafe squinted at the amber liquid swirling in his glass, then leaned back in the worn leather of his dad’s old armchair. It felt weird being in here, in his chair, in his office, breathing in that persistent smell of old cigars and varnish.

After the whole “funeral”, with everyone looking at him like he was a wild animal about to snap, this was the only place he could sit without someone judging him.

If you’re so clean, why are you drinking yourself half to death? He took a slow sip, letting it burn down his throat.

It wasn’t like it used to be, that high that hit fast and hard, and didn’t care if it broke him apart.

This was different, a slower, quieter process.

Besides, he was in control this time. Just a drink, he told himself, fingers tightening around the glass. No powder, no pills. That was progress.

So what if he had to take the edge off? Who wouldn’t, if they’d just said goodbye to their only living parent and had to look at their younger sisters crying like that?

He was practically swimming in alcohol. Rafe knew he was overdoing it, but he didn’t care.

Every time he saw himself— on a window, mirror, whatever—he had a drink in his hand, and something about it just felt terrifyingly right.

Grounded.

Nobody understood him; they just kept looking at him with that worried face, like he was on the verge of losing it like he used to when he was younger. Maybe he already had.

You watched him—really watched him—and yeah, he could tell you were pissed. He saw it in that little wrinkle between your eyebrows every time he took another sip. But you didn’t say anything.

Even Wheezie was on his case in her quiet way.

She was hanging around, throwing out old jokes and trying to make him smile, but he barely reacted. She was looking at him like she was scared, as if he was some stranger she was trying not to set off. And he hated that—God, he fucking hated it. So he kept his distance, hoped she would back off, let him get through this his way.

But then came that night at the beach bonfire, when everything changed.

He probably shouldn’t have gone, but he needed to get out and feel normal again—even if that just implied showing up and pretending, he was fine. He dragged you along, flashing that cocky grin you could see right through, but you followed anyway, probably just to keep an eye on him. He could feel it—the way you were watching him, worried as hell, that just made him want another drink.

“Guess Ward Cameron finally found some gold he couldn’t buy his way out of, huh? What was he thinking, running off to some country where people don’t just take bribes? Practically killed himself.”

It took everything in him not to lunge right there, but he was too plastered to keep the anger off his face. He pushed his way over to the guy, hands clenched into fists.

“You got something you want to say to my fuckin’ face?”

The guy shrugged, muttering something under his breath, people were looking now, everyone watching to see if he was finally going to give them a show.

Before he knew what he was doing, he was shoving him back, hard enough that the dude stumbled, beer splashing out of his cup. The crowd around them stirred, murmurs, but nobody did a thing—they were just staring, waiting to see the blood spill. He felt tempted to hurt someone, felt that cameron fury crawling up his throat.

It didn’t matter that he was twice as drunk as he should be; all that mattered was the way his father’s name was rolling off this nobody’s lips.

He felt you grab his arm, long nails digging hard enough to pull him back, he jerked his shoulder, trying to shake you off, but you weren’t letting go.

“You’re gonna waste your time on him?”

Rafe gritted his teeth, but you didn’t give him a chance to argue. You hauled him back, forcing him away from the guy, who was still standing there with that smug look plastered on his face.

“Get out. Now,” you urged him, voice calm but with the tone that even he didn’t want to test. He glared at you, mouth opening to argue, but you didn’t let him get a word in. “Rafe. Now.”

You were mad at him.

It was enough to knock some sense into him, and he let you reel him away, but not before you turned back.

“And you,” you called out, enough to silence the chatter around you. “Keep your fuckin’ mouth shut.”

There was no bluff, no hesitation, and Rafe watched as the pogue’s smug expression dropped instantly, eyes widening as he realized you were dead serious, your family’s name always had an impact around town, old money and all.

As you dragged him to the car, he muttered that he didn’t need you playing bodyguard, but you ignored it, taking him out of the spotlight he hated but couldn’t seem to avoid.

His head was spinning, his blood boiling, and he couldn’t even look at you, not with how angry he felt.

By the time you pulled up to his house, you got out, guiding him inside with that hard, that silent determination he both hated and admired in you.

You were there, right behind him with that look on your face—angry, disappointed, like he was missing something big, as if he was the one who didn’t get it.

He stumbled into the bathroom, holding himself against the sink, and before he could even catch his breath, you turned on the faucet and splashed cold water in his face. He jerked back, sputtering, wiping it with the back of his hand. When he looked at you, his anger burned again.

“What the fuck is your problem?” he snapped.

“My problem?” you scoffed head already shaking, “Are you serious?”

“You don’t get it,” he growled, barely controlling the rage, the shame—everything. “You don’t know a fuckin’ thing about him. I had the right to defend him.”

Rafe laughed bitterly, the sound humorless. “Oh, here we go,” he muttered, rolling his eyes as he turned back to the sink, gripping the edge hard enough to make his knuckles turn white.

He didn’t look at you, didn’t want to see the indignation—or worse, the pity—in your eyes.

“Just stop,” he muttered, but you were past listening.

“No, I won’t stop. I can’t. I can’t keep watching you do this to yourself again. You’re better than this.”

He suddenly pushed himself away from the sink, and turned to face you, his blue eyes practically black with a hurt that was older and deeper than either of you could touch.

“You don’t get to stand there and tell me what I deserve.”

“I know what you deserve.”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes again, though his face had gone a shade paler. “You think you know everything, don’t you?” he sneered. “Think you know what’s best for me? Get off your high horse.”

“You’re damn fucking right I know better than you do, I’m not the one who’s drowning every night in some pathetic tribute to a man who wouldn’t piss on you if you were on fire.”

He could feel it now, the bitterness you’d been hiding for weeks. It wasn’t just about him drinking himself stupid. It was everything—every fucking thing you’d been ignoring, it had festered between you two while you pretended things were okay.

“You’re the one who’s just tired of me, of everything that comes with me.”

You took a step back, eyes narrowing, but you didn’t flinch.

“What?” Your rage momentarily dialed down, the sound gurgling, “You think I’m tired of you? I’ve been here this whole time, trying to make you see the truth, but you won’t even look at me. You won’t let me in. You’re too fucking blind to notice.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but he wasn’t done.

“You don’t get it! I didn’t need you to fix me, I needed someone to stay. But instead, you—" His voice cracked, the anger choking him up, "Instead, you started to make me feel like I was a b-burden. Some mess you had to clean up. How am I supposed to deal with that, huh?"

You were shaking your head, your eyes had already been filled with tears, your chest suffocating.

“I’ve been here. I’ve been standing right next to you, waiting for you to pull your shit together. I didn’t walk away. You did.

His stomach churned, as if you’d taken every inch of space in his chest and twisted it, just for fun. The worst part was, he couldn’t even argue with you. Not really. He had been so wrapped up in his own shit, so obsessed with keeping everyone out, that he hadn’t even seen how far you’d already gone.

“I’m not trying to play the hero!” you screamed, stepping closer, your eyes were cold. “I’m trying to help you see that you have to fix this. Not me. Not anyone else. But you. And if you’re so fucking broken you can’t see that, then maybe you really don’t need me.”

The silence that followed was thick, suffocating. Rafe could feel his heart racing, that agonizing coil in his chest, but he couldn’t stop.

“Maybe you’re right,” he said, voice quieter, but just as venomous.

He turned his back on you, walking to the door. The sound of his boots clamped against the wood floor like a countdown.

“Maybe I don’t. Grab your shit and go.”

"Don’t you fucking—" you snarled, but he was already moving, grabbing your jacket off the hook by the door and throwing it your way, “You know what? Fine. Maybe I will.” You shoved that stupid thing on, hands shaking as you yanked the zipper up. “Don’t come running back in two days like you always do. Don’t come crawling back.”

Rafe paused, hand on the doorknob, his jaw clenched so hard you could see the muscle ticking.

He didn’t turn around, didn’t look back at you.

“I don’t need you to feel sorry for me.”

“Good. Because I stopped feeling sorry for you a long time ago,” you replied sharply, every syllable punctuated with weeks of resentment. “What I feel now? That’s just disappointment.”

You watched his shoulders lock up; his whole body wound so tight it was like he was one wrong look away from completely losing it. He didn’t turn around either, even as you slipped out the door, but he knew.

That was it.

Two moths later, almost three, he was standing in front of the ER pacing like a complete fucking idiot after you passed out in his arms earlier.

He’d told himself he’d stay away, make it easy for both of you.

He had stupidly thought that maybe, one day, you two could still be friends. But today? That shit blew up in his face, for the second time in the span of a week.

He forgot what you could invoke in him when you were standing merely an inch away. He promised himself that he’d moved on, forced to consider that the love of his life might not be someone he could spend his lifetime with. Maybe you weren’t meant for each other.

But how the fuck was he supposed to act when the girl who had been everything to him was hurting?

No, no, no.

Sofia was what he needed.

Someone who didn’t know shit about his past, who didn’t ask questions he didn’t want to answer. She hadn’t seen him the way you had, hadn’t been there through every drunken rant and punch he’d thrown at the wall or someone’s face, hadn’t heard him rail against his dad or drag himself back from one of his darkest nights.

She hadn’t called him a fucking idiot when he chose to throw his father’s ashes on the ocean. She wasn’t going to call him a coward for it. She didn’t have a clue about any of it, and that was supposed to be what he wanted.

He looked up at the ER doors for the millionth time in the past hour, his fingers clenched around his jeep keys so tight they left marks on his hand.

It was over between you two. He’d make sure to keep the fucking distance, two whole months. If he didn’t give you enough closure, you’d hate him faster and you’d both get over it.

So why the fuck was he about to set the whole hospital on fire as he watched John B’s beat up twinkie pull up to the parking area? It shouldn’t have surprised him, but it did.

Of course you’d call her, his own sister—his father's favorite.

Sarah had always been the golden child, Ward’s little angel who could do no wrong, while he was the family screw-up. Even now, you’d picked her, just like Ward would have.

He didn’t think before he moved, closing the distance between him them in seconds.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He barked right up in her face, daring her to explain herself.

Sarah didn’t back down, though. She just looked up at him with that same cool, level expression she always had whenever he tried to get a rise out of her.

“I’m here because she called me.”

“She called you?” He scoffed, eyebrows pulling together in disbelief. “You? She called you?” He took a step closer, “So what, you’re her savior now or some shit? Why the hell would she call you if I’m right here?” His eyes narrowed, searching her face like he couldn’t believe it. “Are you kidding me?”

Sarah threw her hands up, a look of pure exasperation on her face.

“Are you dense, Rafe? You’re with someone else! Why would she want the guy who broke her heart to drive her home?”

He blinked, thrown off. “I broke her heart? She broke mine!” He laughed, but it was harsh, bitter. “I did us a favor. We were just—”

“Oh, right. A favor?” Sarah cut in, voice dripping with sarcasm. “That why you’re pacing out here like a goddamn lunatic?”

“Go away. I’m driving her home.”

She stepped closer, her voice steely as she looked him dead in the eye.

“No. She called me, she wants me here. Not you. So do yourself a real favor and go home before you do something even more stupid.”

A breathless chuckle escaped his lips, “She already hates me, Sarah. What’s the fucking harm, huh?” He threw his arms out, as if daring her to come up with an answer that would hurt less. “What’s one more screw-up on top of everything else?”

“You’re real dumb if you believe that. But if you wanna make it worse, then by all means, go ahead. You’ll just prove her right.”

He stayed rooted in place, chest heaving, the conflict ripping him to pieces. His hands shook, his throat tight with words he couldn’t even begin to understand.

But Sarah had already turned her back on him, heading toward the entrance.

“Walk away,” she warned him, looking over her shoulder, “That’s the only thing left for you to do right now.”

Rafe didn’t know why the fuck he listened to her.

It was as if his body had already made that decision for him, understanding that if he didn’t leave right then, he’d end up doing something stupid—something even more fucked up than what he’d already done. His tongue was locked in place, a curse on the tip of his pursed lips, but it never came.

His feet wouldn’t move, his hands stayed at his sides, and that tightness in his throat wouldn’t let him get a single word out, not one that would make any fucking sense. He hated that. Hated that you still had this kind of control over him.

Hated that he just…felt like something was wrong.

You hadn’t been this frantic, so impulsive since he had to take you home after your sister passed. He didn’t want to remember that night—you damn near threw yourself out of his truck.

But he couldn’t ignore the memory, the desperation on your face, the screams, the fight in his grip as he pulled you by your shirt back inside.

He’d felt like he was holding on to something breaking apart in his hands, something he couldn’t fix but couldn’t let go of either. He’d seen it again in your eyes when he’d caught you earlier at the beach clean-up, the way you’d tried to dodge his stare, voice cracking, legs wobbling when he mentioned the hospital.

Rafe still felt like he’d swallowed shattered pieces of glass every time he thought about you. And if he could just push it down, if he could just get through one fucking day without looking back, maybe he’d start to forget you.

His feet were glued to the hospital pavement, his heartbeat thundering in his ears. If you were about to crash, if this was anything like before…He didn’t know what the fuck he was going to do.

Perhaps because he remembered the last time he’d let you walk out, the way he’d watched you disappear, thinking he was doing the right thing—giving you the clean end you’d both needed.

Maybe that made him sick to his stomach now, thinking of you in there with Sarah, telling his sister things you wouldn’t say to him, letting her be the person he once was to you.

But you’d called her, not him. You’d picked Sarah to be here, and that hurt like a bitch, but it was what he’d asked for, wasn’t it?

This was what he deserved. He told you to grab your shit and go, forced you to leave because that was supposed to make it easier.

He’d impulsively made his choice the minute he’d wrapped his arm around Sofia, pulling her close in front of everyone who’d once known he was yours. He’d talked himself into it. It was the right call, moving on was the only way to finally get you out of his system.

He was the one who decided it’d be easier to act like he forgot you than to actually try. He thought he could make it easy—pain-free.

Rafe pinched the bridge of his nose as he walked back toward his Jeep. He gripped the door handle so hard he could break it in half if he wanted to, feeling his knuckles strain.

If he let go, if he closed that door and stormed inside, he’d just be right back where he started.

He stared at his reflection in the window, his hardened face staring back. His pulse was pounding in his temples, his gut twisting and turning as he tried to bury it all six feet under—the need to just go to you, to hold your hand or yell at you for making him care so fucking much.

He finally released the death grip he had on the door handle, forcing his fingers to relax, his knuckles still throbbing. He slid into the driver’s seat, the cold leather you’d help him choose, mocking at his skin as he slammed the door shut.

With a quick flick of his wrist, he threw the car into drive, the tires screeching as he peeled out of the parking lot.

He drove like he was being hunted down. He wanted to get as far away from that place as possible, praying the miles between him and you would stop the churning inside him.

You’ll just prove her right.

He hated her for saying it, hated Sarah for knowing exactly what buttons to push.

As he rounded a curve, his headlights swept across Topper’s house. Rafe cut the engine and stalked toward the backyard. Topper’s sprawled-out form on a reclining chair, arms crossed over his chest, sunglasses somehow still on evenly.

He stomped up and smacked the end of his chair.

"Wake the fuck up."

He jolted, nearly tumbling off the chair, ripping his sunglasses off and squinting up at him. “Jesus fucking christ, dude, ever heard of calling ahead?”

But Rafe didn’t answer. He just paced, hands in his growing hair, digging into his scalp like he could rip the frustration out of his skull. Topper sighed, propping himself up on one elbow, he didn’t even look at him, just kept muttering to himself, biting his lip, pacing.

“What the hell happened?”

Finally, he stopped, “I need you to find out what’s wrong with your cousin,” he muttered, not wanting to admit he cared enough to ask.

Topper blinked, brow furrowing. “What do you mean, what’s wrong with her?”

Rafe only shook his head, hands on his hips as he stared at the ground. “I don’t know, okay? She just…she’s acting off. And I can’t—I’m not supposed to care, Top. I’m not. I’m with Sofia now, alright? But she’s still…” His voice trailed off, as he scrubbed a hand down it.

Topper tilted his head, eyeing him knowingly.

“Right, yeah, whatever you say. I’ll figure it out.”

If Sarah Cameron didn’t walk through that hospital door within the next three minutes, you’d lose all the courage you’d summoned over the last hours. Or was it just an hour? You weren’t sure how long you’d been lying there, the IV needle taped uncomfortably into your arm.

Your fingers curled into the thin blanket draped over you, and you wished—desperately—that you didn’t feel so…empty.

Ten minutes later, she strode in with a glance at the door, as if she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to get there on time. The relief on her face when she saw you was reassuring but it only made the confusion in your chest heavier.

She was so different from Rafe, yet still looked so much like him. She sat in the chair by the bed, eyes scanning your face like she was trying to gauge just how bad it was.

“Hi.”

You swallowed, blinking up at the ceiling to keep the tears at bay.

“Thanks for coming.”

“Of course,” She reached for your hand where it lay on top of the blanket, hesitating for a split second before giving it a reassuring squeeze. “You okay?”

You felt a laugh bubble up, “Not even a little.”

She let out a small breath and nodded, squeezing your hand again. “I figured,” she said quietly, and you appreciated that she didn’t pretend to have some miracle answer, “I made him leave.”

She’d made him leave.

You could imagine his face distorted with anger.

You wondered if he’d put up a fight or if he’d just walked away, giving in to his sister in that infuriating, self-pitying silence he’d perfected.

You weren’t going to ask, the less you knew, the better.

“Good.” You were relieved, but it felt bittersweet, “I didn’t want him here.”

Except your voice shook, like it simply had to let her know you were lying.

You’d been telling yourself for so long that you didn’t need him—that you didn’t want him anywhere near you. But the second you pictured him there, waiting… God, you hated yourself.

Hated that tiny, pathetic part of you that still wanted him to care, even if it was just a sliver of anything that wasn’t anger or flat-out ignoring you.

“He threw a hissy fight, but don’t worry. He’s not coming back.”

You nodded, half in agreement, half in frustration, “He never listens.”

“Especially when it matters,” Sarah added, rolling her eyes. “I swear, sometimes I think he just likes to make things worse for himself. And everyone else.”

You recalled the sound of his footsteps trailing yours earlier, the way his hand had hovered near you when you swayed, the wild look on his face when you told him to back off. He had seemed…hurt. Like he wanted to fix something he’d already smashed to pieces.

“I don’t want to talk about him.”

She respected that—she wouldn’t insist. There was a lot to unpack when it came to Rafe, but you didn’t need to go there right now. She could tell.

"Okay. Do you want to tell me why you called me and not Topper?”

There wasn’t any judgment in her tone—just plain curiosity, confusion. And you couldn’t blame her. If the roles were reversed, you’d be asking the same thing.

You had to bite your lips to avoid crying for the hundredth time that day. You hadn’t planned on telling someone the biggest secret of your life in a public space, or after nearly having a mental breakdown.

Not like this, with the IV in your arm.

"I—" you started, the words tangled in your throat. "I don't trust him," you admitted quietly, "I don’t trust him with this.”

This.

You turned your head to look out the window, the late afternoon light pouring through the blinds, but it never touched the void you felt inside.

“He’s too close. He wouldn’t get it. I needed someone who could just… not be involved, you know? I mean—You’re still his sister but—”

Sarah’s already frowning, interrupting your pitying party, “Sweet girl, you don’t have to explain your reasons to me. I’m listening either way. I don’t know what’s going on, but I get it, I understand why you’d want to keep him out of this.”

“You’re the only one I can trust to keep this a secret,” you confessed, “If anyone finds out—if Rafe finds out—it’s over. I’m not ready for that.”

A shadow crossed Sarah’s face, her lips pressing into a thin line. She didn’t ask questions about what you meant—about how Rafe had ruined things before. She didn’t need to.

“I won’t tell him,” Sarah promised, her grip tightening on your skin. “It’s safe with me. I’ve got your back.”

You closed your eyes, breathing out slowly.

This was hard, harder than anything you’d ever done before, and that was saying something considering all the shit you went through when your family died. She had no idea what you were about to say, and you couldn’t help but wonder if it would change everything between you—between you and her, and you and everyone else.

"Sara, I—" The truth choked you once more, cutting you off. You couldn’t breathe.

Your chest felt vacant, something was missing, something that you didn’t know how to fix, but you had to say it. It was the only way out.

“Are you—" she started to ask, but you quickly shook your head. You could hear the hesitation in her voice.

"Just… just let me tell you,” You begged, pushing the words out before you lost them. “I-I’m pregnant,” you finally blurted out, as if confessing it all at once could make it easier.

But it didn’t.

You didn’t dare look at Sarah right away.

Your eyes were stuck on the ceiling, blinking rapidly, you didn’t need her to see how much this was breaking you or how terrified you were. You could feel her eyes on you now, and your hand clenched around the blanket, your knuckles white from the lack of circulation.

Then, slowly, Sarah squeezed your hand again, she was giving you a moment to breathe, even though you didn’t feel like you deserved it.

“Rafe’s?” she asked quietly, confirming what you already knew she understood.

You nodded, not needing to say it aloud; she could sense the truth in the way your chest hitched, how you couldn’t bring yourself to meet her eyes.

“God,” Sarah breathed out, "And you... you want to...?"

You nodded again. She wasn’t asking if you were sure; you could hear it in the hesitation of her question. She was asking if you were ready to make the choice.

“I don’t want this,” you choked out, the tears finally breaking free. “I can’t have it, Sarah. I can’t. I’m not ready for that. I’m not sure I even know what I want anymore," you spit the doubt out with the brokenness you felt, wiping the traitorous tear that traced down your cheek. "I don’t know what to do."

“I’m here. Whatever you need, however you need to do this—I’m here,” she promised, making sure you wouldn’t float away.

“I can’t… I just… I don’t want him to find out,” you managed between shallow breaths. “If he knew, he’d… I don’t know what he’d do. Maybe it’s stupid, but I don’t want him to look at me like… like he owns me something.”

Sarah nodded, not a hint of judgment on her face, “He won’t know a thing from me, I swear. He’ll never have any say in this, not unless you want him to. This is your choice, no one else’s.”

You didn’t know you’d been holding your breath, but it came out all at once in a shaky exhale.

“Thank you. I just… I didn’t know who else I could ask.”

“Hey,” she said, her voice gentle. “This? This is exactly what I’m here for. I’ve got you, no matter what.”

The empathy there, the way she held space for all your broken pieces.

“New Mexico’s clinic rules… they won’t let me go through with it alone. They said I need someone with me.” You took a shaky breath. “I can’t imagine anyone else but you there, Sarah.”

“Then I’ll be there,” she said, without hesitation. “I’ll get the tickets, we’ll go together. And if you feel like breaking down, then break down, because you don’t have to keep any of this in anymore.”

Her words broke something in you that had been holding everything so tightly. The relief, the gratitude— “You’re really… You’d really do this for me?”

“Of course,” she murmured, pulling you close so your head rested against her shoulder, her fingers brushing through your hair soothingly. “Sweet girl, I’d do this a thousand times over.”

“I mean—he’s your brother. I don’t want to mess things up between you two even more.”

She sighed, giving a small, sad smile, almost like she’d been waiting for you to say that. “You think he’s my priority right now? Don’t you worry about me and him, we always figure it out. Trust me, I’m used to it.”

“He might hate me for this. And if he takes that out on you…” You couldn’t finish.

“Listen to me,” she sighed, “I’m here because I care about you. Rafe and I, we’ll always have our issues—he’s stubborn, and he thinks he has all the answers. But that’s our problem. He’ll never have a say over what I do or who I’m there for. Especially not with this.”

You swallowed hard, “I don’t want you to regret it.”

She gave a wry laugh, brushing a piece of hair back from your face. “You don’t have to protect me from him, remember? He’s my brother, yeah, I love him despite all our shit, but I’m not here for him right now. I’m here for you.”

“You’re sure?” you asked, the question a whisper, almost childlike. You were afraid of the answer, terrified she’d eventually pull away.

“Of course I’m sure,” she replied, tilting your chin so you’d meet her eyes. “Whatever’s going on with Rafe will figure itself out—But right now, you need someone who’s all in, no strings, no doubts. That’s me. You focus on you. I’ll handle him.”

You looked down at your hands, fidgeting with the edge of the blanket, “I don’t think he loves me anymore,” you admitted, almost hoping she wouldn’t hear it, “I was so mean when your dad died.”

When you finally looked up, Sarah was watching you with a sad smile, one that made your heart hurt in both comfort and ache. “You really believe that?” she asked quietly, and you could hear the disbelief in her voice as if it was so obvious to her, something you couldn’t see.

You nodded, swallowing down the sting in your throat. “He doesn’t want me, not really. He’s…he pulled away. Like he’d rather hate me than be close to me. He’s with her.”

The words tasted bitter, and made you want to hurt him twice as bad, but there was finally some relief in saying it out loud.

She sighed, looking down for a second, almost like she was thinking how to tell you something that hurt her to admit.

Your lips quivered, your heart about to leap out of your throat, your tongue darted out, briefly brushing your lips.

You weren’t sure you should say it out loud, but maybe you had to. “We’re better off without each other, aren’t we?”

“You’re allowed to be someone without him, and you’re allowed to find out who that is.”

You were slipping, falling back into that spiral of guilt and shame, the one that told you maybe this was all you were good for. Maybe Rafe was right to break things off, perhaps he’d realized that, in the end, you weren’t worth fighting for.

And shit, you hated yourself for still caring. For still wanting him to want you, even though you knew it was poison. Even though you knew that being with him, needing him, was only dragging you both down.

“Thank you.”

And as you sat there, in the stillness of that room, with the sunlight dimming outside, you felt that maybe someday you’d be able to trust yourself too. To believe that you were worth more than the heartache you’d come to accept as your own.

TAGLIST: @maybankslover @october-baby25 @haruvalentine4321 @hopelesslydevoted2paige

@rafebb @rafesbby @whytheylosttheirminds

@zyafics @astarlights @bruher @nosebeers @carrerascameron

@serrendiipty @sunny1616 @yootvi @ditzyzombiesblog

@psychocitylights @maibelitaaura @kiiyomei

@stoned-writer @justafangirls-blog-deactivated2

@starkeygirlposts @enjoymyloves @ijustwanttoreadlols @icaqttt

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron series #rafe cameron (by @itneverendshere)

2K notes · View notes

hannahssimblr · 13 hours ago

Text

The U-Bahn rumbles along as Jonas and I sit, our back to the window as tile wall rushes by, station to station. The light flickers. His arms are crossed, and he’s bundled in his big, winter coat, ears poking out under his short fisherman hat, laced up boots crossed at the ankles.

“It’s funny to me how you keep bothering Leon so much whenever we see him.” He says. He always sounds so conversational, so curious when he’s saying things that call me out on my behaviour.

“Funny funny or annoying funny?”

“I can’t decide. I just think he would have liked to pay for all our meals tonight. To me, it seemed nice.”

I scoff. “It was a power move, Jonas. I don’t know why you can’t see that.”

“Well, sorry,” as he shrugs, the waterproof material of his jacket rasps. “I don’t think I can. It’s pretty common for someone to want to pay for the entire table, especially if the meal was their idea. He wanted to do it for Elias’ birthday.”

“He does too much. He’s always swinging his wallet around.”

“I think maybe it’s because he can afford to swing it.”

The train halts at a station, and a handful of people clamber on, filtering into the space in front of us.

“It’s not abnormal for me to want to pay for myself and my girlfriend. He should have let me do it without making that face. You know what I’m saying, right?”

“When a restaurant charges forty five euro for a bowl of pasta and we order three bottles of wine worth one hundred each, I will be very happy to allow for my meal to be paid for.”

“So, what’s a couple hundred quid, anyway? It was to make a point.”

He pauses thoughtfully. “Well, I’m not sure I understand the point.”

“Leon can’t just pay for my shit, okay? I don’t need him to. I can afford it myself.”

“I can see it’s a point of pride for you.”

“It’s not like that, it’s-” I break off. “If he pays for me, he’ll find some way to hold it over my head later. I know him.”

“I would argue you don’t know him very well at all. In fact, you barely speak, if only to have some kind of verbal sparring with one another.”

“Well, I’ve known people like him, okay? And that’s what they do. They use money to control people, and that’s what he’s doing by being all flashy with his credit card and his big, fancy restaurant.”

“I imagine the restaurant was to impress his boyfriend on his birthday, and not to make you feel insecure.”

“Well, even if it was, it wouldn’t have made me insecure.”

“I’m sure.”

“Jonas, I feel like you’re on his side.”

“I’m simply being an observer.”

“You don’t even like him. You’ve said it straight out.”

He sighs, adjusting his hat with one hand. “He’s not my favourite person, but I make an effort because he’s important to my friend. I choose the path of least resistance.”

“Well, I choose the other path.”

“Most resistance.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever. Someone has to.”

“I don’t think that’s true.”

Whatever. I don’t care. I’ve already zoned out, staring out the window at the tiles as they zip past the window.

Beginning // Prev // Next

#lucky boy 2011 #gif warning #ts4 story #sims story #sims 4 story #sims 4 storytelling #simblr story #simblr #show us your story

43 notes · View notes

theoddest1 · 1 day ago

Note

Regarding Alastor's backstory and how he rose to power in Hell... it just kind of feels out of character to me.

Because he's more like someone who puts in the work for what he wants, because it would feel more rewarding than just asking for it on a silver platter.

Now, I can understand him making the deal if it was around the time he first arrived in Hell and tried to rise up, only to get curb stomped by demons stronger than him and did worse things. And he makes the deal to feel in control again like when he was alive, that I can understand.

But the leak just... completely destroys Alastor's character AND his role in the story.

If I were to write his character, I'd make it where he never really asked for such things because the thought of asking anyone for help was absurd and breaks his already set idea of himself. [outside of the spirits, he asks for help and protection though he sees then more as tools than gods.]

To him, being a Fawn was completely out of the question. No longer will he be under someone else's egregious, yet sloppy, thumb. He pulls the reigns, and so he shall always do so. This also plays a huge part in how I believed he performed his radio host persona when alive.

"Amongst the people, I am the announcer, the charismatic showman, the one who provides the latest news and tales to tell. I have made the stage and set the standards so no man, woman, or child could ever hate or doubt me in a world made against people who look like me. So how, then, would I be touched? I am no ordinary man, I am their star in their night sky, and they don't even see me! Hah! All they see is tale after tale, horrors that they had no rhyme or reason to believe could bleed into their realities. Yet, without a single thought, the one who marks each harrowing inclination that rattles within is the one who made sure each drop of blood stained their perfect white cloth. Oh, how I LIVE for the spectacle, and they live for me."

This is how I viewed him. Meglomaniac, who is assured in his strength, who doesn't think he needs to make deals, or feel threatened when another powerful foe comes to face him regardless if he were dead or alive during this encounter [He is too assured of his self worth to care about what another strong enemy thinks of him]. He is all about being "alive" in the moment and in control. He does what he wants and sees no hope in his well-being, and with that, he manages to at least gain wisdom in being honest with himself. He knows he's a shithead and understands that what he has done was with no remorse or care because he gave up on being a kind soul long....loooong ago. Someone made sure to seal that fate for him. Why should he care what people think when he already has a stubborn viewpoint of himself? It is what it is.

EDIT: I forgot to add that I also made this one of major reasons for why in Hell he is made into a buck/deer. It is a reminder of what he hates most: an animal known stereotyped as docile, a perception he once wore before he turned to a life of crime. This form is a mockery of his ideals and his self-image.

But nah, the show instead has him as a piss baby spouting modern terms like a braindead Twitter user losing an argument over subjective material. He feels far more insecure and irritable, making whatever rule he set up about his smile feel more like cope rather than a well-rounded point. He smiles, yet his irritation and need to prove himself lessens its impact. He laughs, yet will turn around and cuss at someone all cause they think his name for the Hotel is trash rather than making a confident witty comeback. He asserts "dominance" but the way he does this is by using pure force alone and barely any mi d games, making it feel as though he isn't truly as clever or well thought out as he had hoped. Everything we have seen of him in the show destroys what little he had in the promotion of the pilot AND the pilot. He was more witty and charming back when Ed was still his VA on Hunicast. A true waste of a potentially well-made character.

#anon ask #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel critical #hazbin hotel criticism #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel leaks #hazbin leaks #vivziepop critical #vivziepop criticism #viv get a grip

40 notes · View notes

smilesrobotlover · 3 days ago

Text

First|| <-prev next-> (soon)

AO3

Chapter 11- Attack on Castle Town

It was infuriating

Two whole days had passed since Link and Rusl arrived to Castle Town, yet it felt like no one was making an effort to come up with a plan. They had talked about hunting the beast down, luring it in, or waiting to see when it would attack again to then strike. But it felt like they were talking in circles, the conversation melting into the talk of the mundane.

Rusl, of course, loved visiting with his friends and talking to them about whatever came to mind, but not now. Not when that thing just attacked his children and threatened his home. The anxiety ate up at him, and he found himself unable to sit still at the table where everyone else sat. So he stood in the corner, his arms crossed as he glared at the others.

“So we should head to Faron since it was in Ordon last night, right?” Shad asked, staring at the map.

“No, it was just in Faron, it might’ve moved,” Link corrected.

“Didn’t sound like it moved from when it first attacked you guys,” Ashei butted in, her arms crossed at the table.

Link pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes. “I guess…”

“So we head to Faron?” Auru suggested, and Sheik finally stepped into the conversation.

“It seems like the most logical place to go, but we need to know how to fight this monster. If five soldiers couldn’t kill it, then I doubt six of us could.”

“Yes, but we do have one more person,” Shad said, his finger in the air, “and we’re more prepared.”

“It’s not like the soldiers of Hyrule are anything impressive,” Auru muttered, and Sheik looked away.

“Will you be fighting though Shad?” Link asked, and Shad gave him an offended look.

“Why—of course, old boy! I may not wield a sword but I have a weapon stronger than that!” The scholar patted his book, and Auru snorted.

“Are you going to throw the book at the monster?”

The group erupted into laughter and Rusl rolled his eyes. They were getting off track again.

“No! I have my head right here!” Shad defended himself, and Auru laughed harder.

“Great! So we’ll use your head as a weapon when the rest of ours break!”

“I meant my brain!” Shad stood up in fury, but his fiance pulled him back down, an amused smile on her face.

“We get what you mean, Shad,” she said and gave him a peck on the cheek. Rusl sighed and cleared his throat loudly, catching the attention of Auru and Link. His son looked down, a slightly guilty look on his face, and his fingers interlocked together.

“Well, we may have a better chance than the soldiers, but we still need a plan,” he said, and Rusl felt relieved that they were finally strategizing. He and Link discussed strategies several times, but ultimately they wanted to brainstorm with the others for more ideas.

“You fought the beasts, old boy,” Shad started, his anger having disappeared entirely, “what is your suggestion?”

Link looked down, his eyebrows furrowed. “I… I don’t know. This isn’t a normal shadow beast.”

“I remember they were a challenge,” Auru contemplated. “Having to kill them all at the same time was… infuriating.”

“They just kept coming back to life,” Ashei added, and the rest of the group nodded.

“Well, as long as you killed them at the same time, they were relatively easy,” Link said. “But this beast is alone, so I don’t think we have to worry about it coming back to life once it’s dead. It’s just… tough.”

Sheik nodded. “It has to have a weakness though. We will weaken it, keep our distance, and…” they grabbed their right hand, “perhaps we could get the light spirit’s assistance? If it’s from the twilight, I doubt pure, divine light will feel good, hm?”

Link’s eyes widened as if he realized something and he nodded. “That’s a great idea, Sheik. We’ll get the light spirits to help weaken it, and while it’s down, we’ll give it everything we have.”

The group seemed to agree with the plan—if Rusl could even call it a plan—and Auru raised his drink.

“To victory then,” he cheered, and the others raised their own, with Link simply bumping his fist since he didn’t have one. Rusl let out a sigh and pushed his frustrations aside. He wasn’t sleeping well, and the anxiety felt like it was eating him up inside, so he was much more quick to anger than normal. But he had to try to be patient—they were going to get to deal with the threat, he knew it. He just had to slow down with the rest of them.

“Alright, let’s head out then,” Rusl muttered, stepping closer to the group, but Sheik stood up.

“Not yet. I must convey this information with some… allies. They may help if something were to go wrong.”

Link and Ashei seemed understanding while Auru and Shad seemed indifferent, but Rusl was exasperated.

“What? We’re not—when will you be back?” He asked, a sharpness to his voice as his patience was wearing thin.

“I’m not sure, hopefully before tonight—”

“Tonight? Where in the spirit’s name will you be going?” He snapped. Sheik’s eyes widened in surprise and they looked around uncomfortably.

“I just have things I need to do,” they muttered, and Link looked up at his pa, a worried expression on his face.

“We don’t have time! We should leave now and deal with it before it takes more people!” Rusl argued, and Auru stood up.

“If what Sheik says is true, then we should get help if something were to go wrong. Calm down—”

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” Rusl shouted, leaving everyone surprised. “You don’t know what type of a threat this thing is! If we wait any longer, we could lose it!”

“Rusl,” Auru started, his hands raised in an effort to calm him. “I know, but we are merely six people… and… really it’d only be four of you physically fighting it—I may not be able to do much. We need all the help we can get.”

“But it’ll be too late! We won’t be able to travel until the morning!”

Shad hummed. “Maybe leaving at night would help us find it better.”

“No, that's a horrible idea,” Link jumped in, and Rusl let out a groan.

“I can’t sit around any longer, I need this thing dead!”

“Goddesses, what has gotten into you?” Auru asked. “You were perfectly fine this morning—”

“That was because I thought we were safe during the day,” Rusl spat. “I thought we had more time as long as everyone stayed in at night. But no, it’s dangerous no matter what time it is! We can’t stall anymore!”

Everyone looked at each other. Ashei looked understanding, Sheik looked guilty, while Link looked uncomfortable at the outburst. Rusl blinked a few times and let out a sigh, running his hands through his hair.

“I–I’m sorry I…” He started, but he couldn’t get the words out. He looked up at Auru who stared blankly at him and he turned away. “You do what you need to do Sheik, I’m gonna go cool my head,” he said softly, and he left the backroom, ignoring Telma’s confused look as he burst through the door to the bar. He didn’t know where he was going—he supposed he was simply walking around the town to clear his head. The lack of sleep from the past few nights was catching up to him, and the fear surrounding the shadow beast plagued his waking mind. He felt like he couldn’t escape it, and he just wanted it taken care of so he could finally rest. He supposed with his own children and grandson having to get involved, it finally caused him to break.

The loud noises of the town wasn’t doing him any favors, so he went through the southern gate to escape to somewhere quieter, leaving behind the shops lined up next to Telma’s bar and entering a clearing. It was empty and peaceful, with a fountain in between cobblestone stairs that poured out the bluest water. Rusl walked to the fountain and kneeled, the anxiety and anger leaving his body to make way for vulnerability. He opened his heart and prayed.

He didn’t know who he was praying to; he wasn’t exactly praying to Ordona, or the light spirits themselves. But he found himself praying to someone. He prayed that he and the others would be safe, he prayed that his children would be safe, and he prayed that his wife would be protected. Goddesses she must’ve been worried sick over them—she always got extremely upset over these things. He hoped that she would know that the children were safe, and that she wouldn’t blame herself for what happened. As he prayed, tears started to trickle out of his eyes, and he leaned forward to rest his head against the stone. He was so tired, so tired from everything that happened to him from the past few days. The beast would plague his mind every moment, even if he was asleep. He couldn’t escape it no matter what he did, and now his own family was involved—his own children.

“Papa?”

Rela’s soft voice broke the silence, causing Rusl to sit up and turn his head to look at his daughter. He wiped his tears quickly and forced a smile, and she looked nervous as her hands fidgeted with each other.

“Rela, what the heck are you doin’ out here by yourself?” Rusl asked. “I thought you were sleeping.”

“I… Uh… I couldn’t sleep,” she said softly. “I wanted to talk to you and I saw you walk out so I followed you and… uh…”

Rusl’s smile went away and he sighed. “I don’t want you by yourself in town. Monsters ain’t the only thing we need to look out for.”

“I know… but…” Rela’s arms wrapped around her waist. Her pa gave a more genuine smile and gestured for her to join him. She was hesitant, but she finally joined him, kneeling on the ground as she stared at the fountain. Rusl stared at her for a moment and finally pulled her close, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as she leaned into his hug. She was never a touchy person, always hating his hugs and kisses, so he made sure to enjoy any moment where she enjoyed his touch.

“Um… papa….” Rela started, her fingers fidgeting more now. “I need to tell you something.”

Rusl raised an eyebrow and pulled away to fully look at her. “What is it?”

“The reason… um… the reason that me and Colin and Kori are here is that… um…”

“The monster?”

Rela shook her head, shame apparent on her face. “No… I mean—yes—but… it’s my fault we’re here.”

Rusl frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I was… I was tryn’a teach Kori how to sword fight ‘cause I knew that there was a monster in the woods but… I accidentally left your wooden swords in the water at the spring and I went to go get them and…” Rela sighed. “I dragged everyone into it ‘cause I was dumb… I’m sorry papa.”

“Oh.” Rusl certainly wasn’t expecting Rela to say any of that. “So… y’all left Ordon?”

“Well… me and Kori were practicin’ in Ordon spring, but we met the soldiers and we showed them where y’all found the monster…” Rela sighed. “But we wouldn’t have been there in the first place if not for me. I’m sorry.”

Rusl stared, not knowing how to react. He could be angry, he could be sad, or he could be horrified, but he brushed it all away. She shouldn’t blame herself.

“Sweetie, I wasn’t clear enough with y’all,” he said softly, looking down at her. She did not look back up at him. “You didn’t understand the danger we were in. I certainly didn’t make it more clear. Don’t put all the blame on yourself.”

Rela frowned. “But… I still left.”

“Not on purpose. And I suppose I should’ve told y’all to stay away from the spring.” Rusl let out another sigh and he gave Rela a squeeze. “Besides, it’s in the past. Me and Link are gonna head out tomorrow to fight it. I want y’all to stick with Colin here until it’s safe, ok?”

Rela nodded. “Ok…”

“Wait, we’re not goin’ home—”

Rusl and Rela flinched at Kori who was suddenly behind them, with Rusl grabbing his daughter closer to him as he moved from the young twilian. Kori watched them with a bewildered expression as they stared horrified, and Rusl let out a breathy laugh.

“Spirits above, Kori. You scared the living daylights outta me!” He breathed, letting Rela go. “Why’re you here?”

“I heard Rela leave,” he answered simply, and Rusl rolled his eyes with an annoyed smile.

“Ok, no more going out into Castle Town by yourselves, ok?” He scolded. Kori looked down and tapped his feet on the cobblestone, and Rusl raised an eyebrow. “Where’d you come from anyways? I didn’t hear you at all.”

“Oh, I was in the shadows!” He answered, and Rusl and Rela glanced at each other.

“What the hell are you talkin’ about?” Rela asked, and Rusl let out a sigh.

“Watch your language sweetie. And Kori, I have to ask as well. What do you mean you were ‘in the shadows’?”

Kori grinned, his dimples appearing just below his black markings. “Watch this!”

To Rusl’s surprise, his grandson suddenly morphed into a dark figure, diving into his and Rela’s shadow next to them. Rela jumped to her feet and stared at her own shadow wide eyed, Kori’s little blue eyes appearing to stare back.

“Kori? Since when could you do that?” She yelled out, and Kori emerged from the shadows, giggling slightly.

“Since last night.”

“And you’re mentioning it now? Do you realize how cool that power is? You can hide in the shadows!”

Rela and Kori began to chatter excitedly over his new power, while Rusl glanced around at the empty plain in front of him. The wind blew slightly, the sunlight dimmed, and an uneasy feeling began to overwhelm him. He stood up and started to nudge the kids closer to the gate, checking behind him to make sure he wasn’t being followed. There was nothing there, but he still hurriedly pushed the kids to safety.

“Alright, it’s time to head back to the bar,” he said, his arms wrapped around the two. “And I’m serious about not traveling alone in town. It’s dangerous, ok?”

“Yes papa.”

“Ok grandpa!”

Rusl smiled, but it quickly faded as he thought about the two, his babies, facing such a horrifying monster…

They were too young, too innocent to see such horrors. Goddesses, what kind of a man was he—what kind of a father was he—to let them suffer so? His grip on them tightened as he led them through the busy town, determination flowing through him. He wasn’t going to fail again— he was going to protect them. Even if it killed him.

“Kitties!”

Kori suddenly pulled away from Rusl, running to a home with cats in the front playing with a ball. Rusl sighed, but he allowed the children to play with the cats, not really wanting to see the others just yet.

“Hi baby,” Kori cooed, holding his hand out for a kitten, who sniffed at his hand cautiously. Rela tapped the ball, sending it rolling for the other cats to chase after, and she giggled as they pounced each other. Rusl wished he could enjoy watching them play, but a sinking feeling of dread made him antsy, and he kept looking around him as if he were to be attacked any second. The townsfolk seemed to be anxious as well, with them hurrying to the homes and emptying the streets. Rusl turned to the kids and tapped Rela’s shoulder, gesturing to the direction of the bar with his head.

“It’s time to go. Say goodbye to the kitties.”

“Aw, but he just started to like me!” Kori whined, holding the kitten in his arms.

“I’m sorry kid, but it’s time to head back. Come on.”

Kori pouted but obeyed, reluctantly leaving the kitty behind. Rusl was pushing them faster now, wanting to get inside the bar as soon as possible, which clearly annoyed them with his hands gripping their shoulders.

“What’s the matter, grandpa Rusl?” Kori asked, glancing at Rusl’s hand.

“Nothin’, I just think it’s best if we head inside. A storm might be comin’.”

“Well you don’t have to grab my shoulder like that!” Rela complained, trying to shake off his hand as she spun around. “I can walk on my own you kno—”

A scream from his daughter interrupted her, and Rusl moved on instinct, grabbing the two children and sprinting towards crates for cover. Behind him he heard a slam along with screams, and when he turned, the beast was watching him, snarling growling.

The beast… the shadow beast… it was here—it was here.

Was it following them?

The beast’s snarl was aimed at him, and Rusl froze in fear, the fear of that night returning to him in full force. He was in danger, it was going to kill him, he was going to die, he was going to die he was going to die—

Rela screamed again in fear, burying her face in Rusl’s shirt while Kori remained quiet and stiff, which snapped him out of his stupor. It wasn’t just him that was in danger, but his children. By the goddesses he wasn’t going to let this thing hurt them again.

The shadow beast watched him, as if waiting for him to make a move. Its black, leathery skin looked like a void against the light cobblestone, save for the yellow teeth that dripped a black goo out of its mouth, staining the stone. It didn’t look different from when Rusl first encountered it, just as horrifying as before, yet it felt far more powerful, with a dark magic emanating from it. People were screaming in the town, running like wild animals to get away from the beast, but Rusl ignored them, shoving Rela and Kori behind him.

“Rela, get Kori to Telma’s bar and tell the others to come here,” he commanded, keeping his eyes on the beast as it stared.

“B-b-but p-pa–” Rela stuttered, but Rusl pushed her away.

“Get away from here!” He yelled, causing Rela to flinch, but she got up, trying to drag Kori behind her, though the boy was frozen.

Right as she and Kori moved though, the beast reacted and began to charge at the two. Rusl gasped and grabbed a crate, swinging it and throwing it right at the beast, which stopped it before it could reach the children. The crate shattered on impact, allowing Rusl to grab a broken piece to use as a makeshift weapon against the beast. It wasn’t as good as a sword, but hopefully it’d be enough to buy Rela and Kori time. Rusl swung the broken piece at the beast’s head before it was able to fully recover, it being almost pathetic at how little it reacted from the hit. After the wooden piece bounced off its head, it turned and snapped its jaws at Rusl, the teeth smacking against each other when it missed.

“Come on! Over here!” He shouted, trying to divert its attention from where Rela and Kori were, which worked for a moment as it turned its head to look at him.

“Come on Kori! Move!” Rusl heard Rela shout, and it drew the beast’s attention back to them. To Rusl’s horror, Kori was frozen in fear, staring at the beast with wide eyes as Rela tried to drag him back to the bar. Rusl sprinted to them just as the beast charged. Rela screamed and ran away, her hand slipping from Kori’s as she tried to pull him with her, leaving him alone as the beast got closer and closer. But Rusl got to him first.

He grabbed his grandson and rolled out of the way, dodging the beast’s rampage. Rusl searched for his daughter, but she was long gone, and the beast recovered too fast for him to stall any longer. He sent a prayer to the spirits to keep Rela safe and he ran to Malo Mart, slamming the door and setting Kori down. The poor boy was still frozen, his breathing rapid and tears forming in his eyes. Rusl moved him away from the door, cupping his face.

“Kori, look at me,” he said as calmly as he could as the boy started to sob. “Kori, I need you to be brave for me, ok? Hide out here, and do not come out unless I say so, ok?”

Kori stood sobbing for a moment, and Rusl wiped his tears and readjusted his head so he was looking at him.

“Kori, everything is going to be ok, ok?” He reassured, and he buried the boy in a hug. “Now hide in the shadows or whatever it is you can do and stay away from the door, you hear?”

Kori sniffled and nodded, seeming to calm down just enough to be able to think. Rusl smiled, but the moment of safety was gone in an instant when the roof broke, and a large, black hand reached out to grab them. Rusl pushed Kori away right as the hand landed on him, knocking the breath out of him.

Rusl grunted as the hand tightened around him, and he was lifted up through the hole. Kori watched in horror, moving to try to reach him, but Rusl waved him away, struggling in the thing’s grip.

“Hide Kori!” He yelled out, and he was pulled out of the building, his grandson’s voice calling out to him from within the building.

Rusl clawed at the fingers wrapped tightly around him, and he was suddenly inches away from the thing’s face. The stench from the monster’s hot breath nearly suffocated him, the endless, black mouth was open wide, and he flinched away, only to be trapped in its grip. Panic spiked within his chest as memories from the night of their first meeting flooded in—the memory of the tight throat swallowing him down, the slime and goo falling on every inch of his body, the tendrils in its stomach grabbing onto him…

“No, no no no!” He shouted, struggling against the beast’s hold while staring at its teeth in horror, but it didn’t put him in its mouth again. Instead it simply put him in one of its back hands as if he were a worthless toy, going back to digging around in the shop, and Rusl gasped as realization hit him. It was after Kori.

“KORI!” Rusl yelled in warning as the beast broke another hole through the roof. He squirmed and shifted, but his arms were pinned to his sides, the monster’s grip tight around him.

Just as the beast was about to tear another hole into the roof, an explosion hit the monster’s left side, causing it to shriek in pain. Rusl felt its grip around him loosen, and he was able to get one arm free before the grip tightened again. He looked to see where the explosion came from, and he saw Auru kneeling on the ground, his bazooka on one shoulder as he glared at the beast. Ashei and Shad were behind him, with Ashei’s longsword drawn and protectively in front of Shad, who stared at the beast wide-eyed.

“You better drop him now or else I’ll shoot again!” Auru yelled, aiming his weapon, but the beast didn’t seem threatened, and instead returned to trying to find Kori. Auru followed through on his threat and shot at the monster again, it shrieking in pain when it was hit, but it remained stubborn. Rusl watched Ashei run to the building, climbing to the top with her sword still drawn. She sprinted to the beast and sliced at its injured shoulder, making it flinch away. Annoyed, it went to smack Ashei off the roof, but she dodged and countered with another swipe of her sword, hitting its right arm once again. The beast snarled and directed its full attention to the woman, slamming its fist at her as she hopped back and forth. It soon began to swing its claws at her when squishing her didn’t work, but Ashei was quick despite the armor she had on, and she ducked to avoid the beast’s claws. The shadow beast grew agitated, and it slammed its fist hard against the roof next to Ashei, which didn’t hurt her, but it caused her to lose her footing, and she wasn’t able to dodge the monster slapping her off of the roof. Ashei yelled out as she flew, landing on the cobblestone ground with a sickening crack.

“Ashei!” Shad shouted as she fell off, sprinting to her side as she struggled to stand up. Her face was pale, she cradled her side, and she looked like she was struggling to breathe, which made Rusl worried. The beast turned to look at Ashei and Shad, and Auru let another shot from his weapon loose, which hit it right in the chest. It shrieked in pain, but remained standing on the roof.

“How many hits is it gonna take?” Auru exasperated, loading his weapon again.

“Auru, I’m afraid you’re going to hit Rusl!” Shad yelled, but he didn’t listen as he shot the beast again. Everytime, Auru hit the beast head-on, which Rusl felt as the shock rippled through his body, the heat making him sweat. But the blasts never hurt him directly, with the monster feeling most of the pain, and its grip loosened enough for Rusl to get his other arm free. But once again, its fingers tightened around him just as he was about to slip away.

“Oh come on,” Rusl groaned in frustration, feeling his sides bruise from the grip. The beast recovered from the blast again, and faced Auru with fury radiating off of it. But before it could pounce, Rusl heard a sword being drawn and spotted Link right as he landed on the beast, the blade of his sword facing down and piercing the leathery back.

The shadow beast let out a shriek that rang out through the entire town, stinging Rusl’s ears from the shrill, and he gasped as the grip finally loosened, causing him to fall. He landed on the roof with a painful thud, his knees and ankles stinging from the impact, but there was no time to sit there as the beast wailed in pain.

“Link!” Rusl shouted, scrambling to his aching feet. His son glanced over at him, his grip around his sword tight. “Kori’s below us! It’s after him!”

Link’s eyes widened in realization, his glare turning into a horrified expression, but before he could do anything, the beast stood up straight, making Link hang onto the sword still embedded into its back. Then it jumped back, threatening to crush Link. Link jumped to Rusl before he could get trapped between the roof and the monster, and the roof beneath them collapsed from the impact. Pain exploded in Rusl’s body as Link landed on him, and everything went dark, the sounds of debris falling being the last thing he heard.

~~~

There was chaos in Castle Town. She knew from the screams and broken buildings, but she paid it no mind. As soon as Rusl’s daughter barged into the bar where she and the others still sat, they were all up and ready to go fight the beast, knowing that the time for planning was over. Sheik had planned to tell Edmund about the beast, as a safety measure in case she didn’t make it back, but she supposed there was no time for that now. She just had to trust that Edmund would notice the giant shadow beast attacking the town.

Instead of joining the others in the fight, however, Sheik was standing in her room at the bar, praying to the light spirits the same way she did ten years ago. She knew that the light arrows she acquired from them would aid them in the fight, but it was a matter of getting them to help again. Truthfully, she didn’t know if they would. The tyranny of Ganondorf was over; the threat of the world was no longer there, but she hoped that they would understand the threat now.

“Oh light spirits,” she started, the only sound of her voice in her room feeling awkward, but she continued, “I ask for your help once again, to help defeat an evil that threatens Hyrule.”

Nothing happened, so she continued, ignoring the unease in her heart. “I need the light arrows to defeat this foe. It is a shadow beast, but it is a powerful one. Please, it’s taken and harmed my people. I need to defeat it.”

It remained silent, the familiar feeling of the divine spirits didn’t appear, and panic began to settle in. Why weren’t they responding? They immediately replied to her during the invasion, granting her the light arrows that stunned Ganondorf long enough for Link to fight him. But now it felt like they were ignoring her. Why?

“Please,” she begged, kneeling on the ground and bowing her head. “Please, help me. I must protect Hyrule, I must fulfill my duty as a queen and—and as a mother. Please.”

Frustration began to build up in her as nothing happened. Everything felt easier back then for her despite nearly losing her kingdom. She felt like she could focus, like she could clear her head to figure out what to do. But now everything felt hard, impossible. Like she was trapped in quicksand that she couldn’t escape. Every decision led to a terrible consequence, where she would bear the weight of the blame due to her position. Not looking into the disappearances earlier, not spending time with her family, not building good relationships with people, stretching herself thin where she felt like she could barely do anything—

Goddesses, she couldn’t fail. There were too many people depending on her—an entire kingdom depended on her.

“Please, I need your help,” she tried one more, resting her head on the ground, her voice shaking, “I cannot do this without you.”

“Zelda.”

Her head shot up, finding herself in a dark world that was lit up by the water and the light spirits watching her. Relief swelled in her, and she bowed her head.

“Thank you, light spirits,” she started, “I need you help—”

“No you do not,” the spirit of Lanayru interrupted her, the snake-like eyes watching her. Zelda paused, taken aback from the sudden bluntness.

“W-What do you mean?”

“You do not need our help.”

“I–Yes, I do. I need the light arrows to defeat a beast of darkness—”

“And you were wise in searching for the light arrows…”

“But… you’re not going to give them to me?”

Eldin moved closer to her. “You already have them…”

Zelda paused, looking down at her empty hands. “I…I already have them?”

“You’ve always had them,” Faron jumped in, tilting their head. “They never left you.”

“I—How do I get them then? I’ve never used them since Ganondorf.”

“That is something you will have to figure out yourself…” Faron explained.

“You do not put enough faith in yourself…” Eldin added.

“And so you struggle to find that divine power…” Lanayru finished.

Zelda frowned, rubbing her right hand where the triforce of wisdom glowed. “How do I find it then? How… how do I simply put faith in myself?”

“It is no easy task…you’ve dealt with many obstacles in your life now…we do not blame you for struggling so…”

“But you must learn to be kind to yourself…you are only a Hylian…”

“A Hylian that is responsible for my kingdom,” Zelda grumbled. “I must be hard on myself otherwise I’ll never make the right decision!”

Lanayru shook their head. “You’ll simply overthink everything…you put too much pressure on yourself…”

Zelda paused, looking down at the bright water, the memory of her and Edmund’s conversation playing through her mind.

“… looking at you now, I’ve grown more worried than upset,” Edmund said to her. “You’ve overworked yourself so much to the point that you collapsed. That’s not a good thing. I suppose I… I just want to know why you’re so intent on doing everything yourself, when I’m here to… help you.”

She had put so much pressure on herself that she literally passed out from exhaustion, and her mind has felt foggy ever since. Perhaps it’s felt foggy long before the disappearances have gotten worse, since the twilight invasion…

Goddesses, everything has felt impossible, cloudy, and too heavy for her to bear. But she didn’t know how to receive help—she didn’t know how to fix it. Yet it clearly was keeping her from the light arrows, so much so that the light spirits recognized it.

“I…see…” she simply said. “I’ve always had the light arrows?”

“Yes…you’ve always had them… you just need to learn how to use them…”

Zelda sighed, frowning as she stared at her hands. A familiar, warm tingling sensation started at where her triforce piece lingered, and she nodded. She could do this, she had to.

“Can I ask you one more thing then?” She asked, looking up at the light spirits. They each nodded, and Zelda got to her feet, still keeping her head bowed. “What are we up against?”

Ordona stepped forward, with the others making way for her. “This is a shadow beast… one of the first created by the usurper Zant…it has lingered in the Twilight Realm all these years, getting stronger…”

“If it’s from the Twilight Realm, how did it get here?” Zelda asked, thinking of Midna somehow coming back for Kori.

“It has stolen force from the Twili there… growing strong enough to be able to move between worlds while staying hidden…”

“Force? Like… life force?”

The spirits each looked at each other, and the world around them began to fade.

“Your kingdom needs you, Queen of Hyrule…go, and save them…”

Zelda blinked and she was suddenly back in the room. She still felt clouded and weak, but she knew that her friends needed her, as did her kingdom. Ignoring the questions that weren’t answered, she looked at the triforce of wisdom on her hand and closed her eyes, reaching deep within her to access the magic she had. The warm feeling in her hand began again, and it spread throughout her chest. For a moment, she felt the power in her flow through her veins, a warmth in her fingers.

Then it went away.

Zelda opened her eyes to see nothing in front of her, only the empty room above the inn. Her brows furrowed as she stared at her hands, the fingers trembling slightly.

“I don’t understand,” she whimpered, clenching her fists, “I need them! How do I… why couldn’t you just tell me?”

The room remained silent as Sheik sat there, her prayers unanswered and her hands empty. She looked around her, kneeled down, and once again tried to reach deep within herself to find the arrows, but there was nothing. Not even the faint glow of the triforce of wisdom appeared.

“Come on! I can’t leave without them! I said I’d get them, why can’t I get them?” Sheik punched the floor in frustration, her divine magic suddenly feeling like it was being sucked out of her. She simply asked back then, and the light spirits answered. Of course it had to be different now, of course it had to be harder for her.

A faint explosion was heard outside, along with screaming, and Sheik finally sat up, looking around the room. She could sulk in the room forever, but she still had a duty to the resistance; she needed to help them, empty-handed.

Admitting defeat, Sheik stood up and ran to the window, jumping out and climbing onto the roof. Immediately she spotted a cloud of smoke ahead of her, with the sounds of roaring and yelling, and she took off towards it. A shop in front of the fountain was completely destroyed, with Link trying to distract the shadow beast while Rusl laid unconscious in the rubble, and Kori worriedly looked over him. Sheik grimaced at the sight, dread resting in her stomach as she watched Rusl, pale and unmoving.

“G-Grandpa–” the little boy whimpered, shaking him gently, but he didn’t wake up.

“Kori, get out of here!” Link yelled, but Kori remained frozen at his grandfather’s side. They were helpless against the thing, and Sheik couldn’t help but feel her blood freeze at the sight of the creature. It truly looked far more powerful than the normal shadow beasts, and she could feel the power—the force—radiating off of it. Memories of the twilight invasion came flooding in, with her watching shadow beasts killing her soldiers right before her very eyes, her own parents twisting and morphing into the black creatures by Zant’s hands, and her watching helplessly as it all happened. It’s all she was—helpless!

It turned from Link and spotted Kori, directing its attention to him, and Link tried to get it to turn back around.

“Don’t you dare—LOOK AT ME!” He yelled, desperate to keep his son safe, but it was in vain as the beast turned fully to Kori, who hugged Rusl in fear. The rest of the resistance seemed to be down, with Shad trying to help Ashei off the ground and Auru loading his bazooka frantically, and Sheik knew that Link wouldn’t be able to stop it from charging at Kori and Rusl. For some reason, a vision shot through her mind, one of the beast attacking her daughter in the same manner, and something inside her snapped. If she failed to kill this monster, then it was going to harm her daughter, and she couldn’t bear to let that happen.

She wasn’t going to let it happen.

As soon as the beast started to charge towards Kori, she jumped from the roof, landing in front of him and aiming her right hand at the beast. The triforce of wisdom glowed against her hand, shining brightly against her eyes as the diving light warmed her entire body. The magic was soon condensed and it formed into the bow of light and arrows, floating before her until she grabbed hold of it. Without having time to think, she pulled the bow back with a light arrow and shot it straight at the beast’s chest.

The shriek from the beast rang out through the town, the light attacking every inch of it like lightning as if flinched away from her. Sheik heard a confused grunt and turned to see Rusl wide awake, his brows furrowed and eyes wide as he stared at Sheik.

“Look out!” Sheik heard someone yell, and she turned just in time to see the beast charging, its mouth snarling open wide that almost paralyzed her in fear. She’s never seen their faces before. Breaking out of her fear, she shot an arrow at it when it was inches away from her, and it shriveled, growing agitated from the pain. Sheik was about to shoot it again, but it began slamming the ground in anger, nearly smashing her in the process if Rusl hadn’t pulled her out of the way, and she was huddled up next to him and Kori. The beast shrieked as the light attacked it, and Link got close to finish it off, but he was smacked away from the chaos.

“Papa!” Kori yelled, and ran to where his father landed.

“No! Kori!” Rusl yelled, holding tight to his grandson and following.

Before they could move past the monster however, black magic formed from where the beast rampaged, spreading right under Sheik and the others. A red swirl appeared in the center beneath the shadow beast, a sight that was all too familiar to Sheik, and she suddenly felt trapped in one place from the black magic surrounding her. A dizziness assaulted her as she tried to stand, and to her horror, she watched as the light arrow and bow disappeared from her hands. Her fingers began to vanish, turning into black squares that were being sucked into the center of the portal, and the last thing she saw before disappearing was Link reaching out to her.

#Kori #love at twilight #smiles writes #yayyy!#1 year anniversary!!!#and everything is going terrible! :D #idk I think writing all that action in whumtpober made writing action here nearly IMPOSSIBLE #it was so hard #and so the ending is kinda weak #but hopefully y’all can tell what’s going on #thanks as always to the lovely Bearie for beta reading and giving me suggestions 🙏#a true homie #twilight princess #gosh we’re getting to the exciting stuff hehe #cant tell you how satisfying it is to see a long chapter index ah!#I’m one of the fanfic writers !! :D

51 notes · View notes