#Comfort/humor/little angst??

[freyapoststhings]

hc that kids of Apollo with healing powers(Will specifically) can suck one's health/energy too. (More under the cut)

Based on fanart I saw, Apollo's kids can channel their power into their hands. It only works with the demigod's hands, though. (Mini drabble/fic below! No warnings!)

Will discovered it(at least he's the first known person with it) when he was really stressed one day and had to heal some minor wounds(stuff that didn't really need magic to heal).

He was so annoyed that when he touched the patient, they immediately passed out. Will, of course, panicked and started checking vitals, but everything was fine.

The kid woke up a couple minutes later, still with his injuries, mind you. He was fine, but he suddenly felt extremely exhausted.

Will told him that everything was fine with him, no major injuries to be found. Chiron tried to figure out what happened, but all he could determine was that it was something that hadn't happened before.

He recommended calling Apollo to ask about it. So, the next week, when they came to visit, Apollo was immediately bombarded with questions.

He eventually calmed everyone down, before asking what the Hades happened.

Kayla cut Will off and burst into talking animatedly about how cool and powerful her brother was, with Austin nodding along.

Will raised his hands and they both went quiet. This was a trick that Micheal taught Will, back before the war. It was a trick he would use in the infirmary to make it easy to treat patients.

Apollo, who was quite impressed with the little trick, waited patiently for his son to speak.

"Last week, I was treating a patient, and suddenly he passed outright after I touched him. When he woke up, he said he had felt super tired all of a sudden. Do you happen to know what this could be?"

Apollo grinned, snapping his fingers as soon as Will stopped talking.

"Were you extremely tired or feeling a very strong emotion at the time?" Apollo explained, raising an eyebrow at his now flustered son, two young teenagers on either side of him.

"Well....I mean, I was a little tired, I guess? And he only had small cuts and bruises! Nothing a little ambrosia couldn't fix!" Will's tone started sheepish, but slowly annoyance seeped into his voice.

Kayla and Austin shared a look, and then gave their brother a sympathetic glance.

Apollo watched the blonde, who was still rambling about how often patients come in with minor and ordinary scratches and marks.

Apollo held up a tan hand, all three of the other's present hushing up quickly. Will's eyes contained bits of sheepishness, but still had an underlying glance of anger.

Kayla and Austin looked similar to one another, both filled with a mix of curiosity and sympathy.

"Well, it seems like you inherited a trait of mine." Apollo giggled slightly, before sighing and continuing his trail.

"You see, this power you experienced comes with the healing powers. It is extremely rare, especially since most children of mine don't have as much experience healing as you do. That is why you have it."

Apollo took another breath, and continued.

"You're power doesn't have a name, but basically, if you are feeling especially negative, your powers will do a sort of switch."

Before the three could question, Apollo continued.

"What I'm trying to say is, you basically sucked his energy to replenish yours."

Apollo finished, glancing at the surprised faces of the ones he holds dear with amusement.

"So I.....took his energy?!" Will exclaimed. At this point, Kayla and Austin basically had stars in their eyes. Apollo was worried they might be permanent.

"WILL THAT'S SO COOL!!!!" Kayla yelled, crawling over to shake her brother by the shoulders. Austin and Apollo just laughed.

"KAYLAAAAA PLEA-SE PUT ME DOWN." Will exclaimed. Kayla, now out of breath, finally let her very dizzy brother free. Now half in her brother's lap, she tucked her head into his shoulder in an attempt to catch her breath.(Not a ship!!! This is sibling affection!)

Austin smiled, before crawling over to his siblings. They grinned at his brothers' pleading face, before resting leaning against Will's back. Will made one last-ditch effort and looked at his dad for help.

"Dad please! I have work in a few minutes!" Will whispered, still attempting not to wake up his now sleeping siblings.

"I'll take over for a bit, alright?" Apollo smiled gently, before summoning a blanket and slapping it over the three teens. He kissed each child on the crown of their head, before getting up fully.

"Sleep well, my little crows. I love you." Apollo spoke softly, making it harder for Will to stay awake. His exhaustion caught up to him quickly.

By the time the door shut, the demigods were fast asleep, laying against each other on the cabin floor.

He was asked as he left the cabin where his kids were.

"Oh, they're just getting some well-deserved rest."

---

Okay! That took far longer than I thought it would lol. I'm thinking of posting this on my ao3 as a short one shot. Let me know what y'all want! Also, I'll try to find the fanart that inspired this! Hope y'all enjoyed this!

[kybercrystals94]

Tattoos

Read here on Ao3!

Whumptober 2024 - Day 21 - Prompt: Tattoo Gun

Rated: G | Words: 896

A/N: This story makes subtle references to my other story Teal Paint; however, this is entirely a stand alone!

“Do you have any tattoos?” Omega asks, little splayed hands holding the panel up while Tech tightens the bolts. 

“I do not.” 

“Why?” 

Tech sighs. “I do not understand the need for permanent alterations to my person.” 

“Oh.” She sounds disappointed, as though Tech has become a little less interesting than he was a moment before. 

“Wrecker does not have one either,” Tech says. “And neither does Echo.” 

“So only Hunter and Crosshair have tattoos,” Omega says. “And me, someday. Hunter says I have to wait even though I’m older than he was when he got his tattoo.” 

“The fact that we age differently than you, Omega, makes that an unfair comparison,” Tech says. “I hope that if you do decide to forever mark yourself, it will be a little more discreet than either of our brothers.”

Omega laughs. “I won’t get a face tattoo, I promise.” 

“Well, then, you are already showing more discernment than many clones I’ve come across.” Tech finishes tightening the last bolt. “There, that should do it. I appreciate your assistance.” 

Omega bounces on the toes of her boots. “You’re welcome, Tech! Do you need any more help?” 

Tech unlatches his data pad from his belt, checking over his list. “No, I believe that is all until Wrecker and Hunter return with parts.” 

“Okay!” Omega chirps. She spins on her heel and races up the ramp, disappearing from sight. 

Tech distantly hears Echo tell Omega not to run on the ship. Tech rolls his eyes. No matter how many times the rule is reiterated, the girl needs constant reminding. Perhaps he and his brothers were like that when they were at her developmental age; however, the Kaminoans and their trainers were not so patient. 

To Tech’s surprise, Omega returns a moment later, taking the ramp at a much more subdued speed, her arms clutched around a booklet of flimsi Wrecker had gotten for her. “I want to show you my designs.” 

“Your designs?” Tech asks.

Omega gives him a look, a look he believes he might be guilty of giving himself when something is obvious. “For my tattoo.” 

“Ah,” Tech says. 

Omega grins. “There’s some regular sketches too.” 

Omega hands over the bound flimsi, and Tech begins to turn through the sheets. The designs are minimalistic yet detailed, to his surprise, with clean, crisp lines. If he feels a twinge of reminisce of Crosshair’s own sketches, he keeps the emotion carefully at bay. Omega is talented, he must admit.

He stops to admire one work in particular. It is a simple rendition of the skull from his helmet. “This is well done, Omega,” he tells her. 

Omega peeks around to look at the page he has stopped on. “Really? You like it?” 

“Indeed,” he says. 

“I drew it for you,” Omega says. “I saw how sad you looked when you repainted your helmet and had to cover your skull design.” 

Crosshair had designed that skull for him, in another lifetime. Covering it up after Kamino fell was only logical, and Tech thought he had done the task with no visible emotional reaction. However, Omega picks up on many things that seem to elude her brothers’ notice. 

“Thank you,” Tech says. 

Omega beams up at him. “And if you ever decide to do permanent altercations, you can use my design if you want!” 

Tech chuckles. “We shall have to see about that.” 

**

Few things were recovered from the Marauder’s wreckage after it was destroyed; however, a small, watertight box was found, Tech’s name engraved on its lid. Lyana had kept it safe until the Batch returned from Tantiss, and then they had tucked the box away. It felt wrong to open it, somehow, without permission Tech could never give. 

But tonight, Omega wakes from a nightmare she hasn’t had in years. She slips out of her bed and down the hall to the closet. She is able to reach the top shelf now without a chair from the kitchen, her fingers brushing the cold sides of Tech’s box. She pulls it down and takes it back to her room. 

She doesn’t open it for a long time, just sitting with the box in front of her on the bed, as though its presence alone might be the last remnants of the brother she lost so long ago. Then, she unlatches it and lifts the lid. 

Inside are some trinkets, medals from the Clone War, two data sticks, and some random nuts and bolts. A piece of flimsi is folded at the bottom. She lifts it out carefully and unfolds it. And there is her simplistic rendition of the skull from Tech’s helmet staring up at her. Her breath catches in her throat, a smile trembling on her lips. The pride she’d felt when Tech first applauded her work bubbles up anew. 

At the bottom of the sheet, in small neat letters, Tech’s careful handwriting: Skull by Omega 19 BBY - Future tattoo design when the time comes. 

Omega laughs and sobs in the same breath. He’d actually thought about it, getting a tattoo with her design. At the time, she thought he was humoring her, and he probably was. But in the end, he’d saved it, noted its purpose among his prized possessions. 

The time had never come for Tech, cut short and sudden. 

But maybe Omega can get it in his stead.

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[pastafossa]

Preview of Angsty In-Progress TRT What If fic

Right so there won't be a chapter cause I'm still in Covid Brain Fog Town, Population: Me which is affecting my writing (I've gotten a bit written but it's slow going). But I have found time to edit that sad thing I'd been working on BEFORE getting sick and I'm planning to release that because I think it works as a really good illustration of just what the stakes are in TRT if they get this wrong. AKA: a what-if, in which all their preparations fail and Jane is taken (spawned by an ask in my box that's been chewing at my brain for months now).

This will be a really dark and angsty side-fic, and the ending won't be happy per se, although I'm planning to give a little hope at the end since I'm not a COMPLETE monster, but I don't expect everyone to read it regardless and am designing it so there's no need to if you'd prefer to stick to TRT canon. BUT if you DO want to read something like this, here's a preview of the first section.

Warnings for: angst (obviously), blood, reference to shock collars.

Preview wordcount: around 1k

Putting this behind a cut.

Sad Matt gif cause this part's from his POV and it will not be fun.

There should have been a fight. 

That had always been the plan, an unspoken agreement the moment you’d decided to stay. You’d all known the Man in the White Coat, Cyrus James, would come to town eventually. It was an inevitability, a reality, and it was one you’d prepared for. Slowly, you’d gathered in your allies, armor composed of S.H.I.E.L.D., of the Ferryman, of the Punisher and the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen and even Spider-Man, had you asked. There’d been plans and backup plans, alarm systems and fail safes. And just in case that still wasn’t enough, you and Matt had taken to practicing, over and over and over again, all the ways you could signal him should your hunter slip through the cracks. 

It was foolproof. 

It should have been foolproof. That was what you’d all believed. 

You were all wrong. So terribly, terribly wrong.

This isn’t how it was supposed to happen. 

There was no battle. 

It’s my fault. 

No war along the familiar streets that had become your home. 

I should have sensed him. 

There’d been no signal given. No warning, no alarm that rang out, not when you were walking home after a late case. 

Caught alone in the dark.

Where are you, sweetheart? Please, just give me something, anything—

You didn’t even have time to scream, they said.

Not physically, anyway.

He’d felt your fear before on occasion, when you reached for him psychically. Then, your presence felt like the frantic bite of your nails in his skin, tasted like the sharp tang of cold sweat and burning adrenaline, sounded like the stuttered racing of your heart, a drumbeat in his ears that never failed to set his own heart racing as he cast his senses out, hunting for threat-threat-threat and for those that dared to harm you. He’d felt your fear when you woke in the quiet dark of the apartment, and when you’d been trapped beneath the warehouse in a cruel, dusty cell. He’d felt it, too, that night Frank had chased after you. 

He thought he’d known the flavor of your fear. 

But those moments were nothing compared to the moment your deepest, darkest fear became… real. 

The deafening psychic scream that tore through the thread with all the force of a hurricane was like nothing he’d felt before, or ever would again. That storm was all-consuming, the world around him gone in a heartbeat as the sudden wave brought him to his knees, his mouth shocked open on a silent shout. He could barely breathe through that terrified tide, one cold as bitter ice, your panicked heartbeat less a drumbeat than a constant roar in his ears as your panic rolled through him. This was the tremor of muscle and blind, animalistic instinct, the last, desperate sprint of a doomed hare just before the hawk’s talons cinched shut against the back of its neck.

This wasn’t fear. That was too small a word.

It was sheer, absolute terror. 

And in that terror, you managed only a single word. 

“Matt, h—”

You never got a chance to finish. Instead, he was struck by a blinding surge of electricity, white-hot coils of lightning snaking around his throat before locking tight. That shock raced outwards from there, traveling along lines of hidden nerves and thick muscle until his whole body locked up in agony. It was impossible to writhe, to thrash, to fight. All he could do was scream, mindless and furious, your terror matched only by his surge of rage, rage that covered his own wave of terror. Because he knew. He knew, distantly, what this was, and what this meant. 

The collar. 

Just as quickly as it came, the connection was gone, leaving him with nothing but the steady drip of blood from his nose and a ringing in his ears.

He wanted to retch, his stomach roiling, but there was no time. 

It can’t end like this. 

The directional signal he’d gotten from you was worthless. Even when he found where you’d been snatched off the street, they’d left him nothing but droplets of your blood and a fading snatch of cigarette smoke, a poor cover for the faint chemical scent lingering in the alley. Tranquilizers, he’d learn later, meant to knock you out, make you tame enough to be bound, collared, and forced into the back of a van. From there, your scent vanished into the night. 

Caught. Collared. 

Taken.

There was supposed to be more time. 

More time for him in your arms and you in his. 

More quiet touches in the early morning, and laughter in the kitchen, at Fogwell’s, on warm rooftops and cold ones, too. 

Time for him to slip a ring on your finger, and for his name to twine with yours, joyful tears in both your eyes as he pressed his lips to yours on the day you finally became his wife, the keeper of his soul, and he the keeper of yours, for all the rest of your days.

Why hadn’t he asked you?

He should have asked you.

Our rocking chairs should be red, you’d said sleepily last night, when we’re old. 

He should have been faster. 

Stronger. 

Smarter.

“All this, all this that we have here, that you love, is at risk. It always is when I stop. He takes this from me every time, Matt."

He should have protected you. 

He’d promised you he’d keep you safe. 

“No one will take you. I won’t let them, no matter what I have to do to stop them. What happened before—you didn’t have me. I’ll hear him coming from a mile away. We’ll be prepared for him."

“Ciro promised me the same thing. And he was wrong.”

He’d… promised. 

“I promise. I’ll find them before they even get close.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, D.”

And he’d failed.

The Devil’s roar of anguish, of grief, and of absolute agony shook the very bones of the city. 

By that point, you were too far away to hear it. 

It would be seven months before he found you again.

[anisespice]

“ baby steps ” || tokyo rev.

continuation of this post.

pairing: bonten x fem!reader [ mikey, ran, sanzu ]

warnings: mature content ahead. MDI. mature language, crude humor, ANGST w/ comfort (mostly in mikey's), deadbeat!bonten (unintentionally), not proof-read so there may be A LOT of errors :// mikey's is LONG, ran + sanzu's are silly goofy, mikey + sanzu's are a lil unhinged lol and i think that’s it :))

notes: can i just say thank y'all so much for showing "accidents happen" the love that i didn't think it would get, it was made on a whim so i'm so so so happy y'all enjoyed! i tagged as many as i could (or that tumblr would allow) sorry if i missed some of you :( thank you for your patience and let me know how you feel about this continuation format :) !! notes ii: also also, pt. 2 for "accidents happen" coming soon! notes iii: MY COMPUTER CRASHED AND I THOUGHT I LOST EVERYTHING BUT IT'S OKAY IT'S OKAY :'))))

tagged: @fantasycantasy , @illegalspacecow , @captaincyberqueen , @cherryblossiren , @niragiswhore , @awkwardaardvarkforever , @valentsoup , @lovely212 , @miffysoo , @yandere-kouhai , @i-am-just-a-girl-ur-honor , @wisteriarose214 , @kindadolly , @yuwaimo , @sweetbella1221 , @simpingfor-wakasa , @sirachano0dles , @yutahg , @slowlikehonee , @blurpleuni-squid , @haruchiyoreen , @istanstraykidss , @loyard176 , @msluccapotato , @luv444lay , @backgroundcharactera , @jegelskeranime

Ever since you picked up your daughter, there’s been a hovering presence that wouldn’t go away no matter where you went. From the park, to the grocery store, all the way home it clung to you like a bad itch. Despite looking over your shoulder and being met without any sort of threat, that didn’t stop the uneasy feeling. And it only intensified when you received a knock on your front door.

You made a confused hum, checking the time on the microwave to confirm that it was indeed past the reasonable hour for potential visitors. Not to mention, you weren’t expecting anyone.

The hairs on the back of your neck stood up, instincts telling you that something wasn’t right, that your best option was to pretend you weren’t home. However, the person on the other side knew otherwise as they knocked on the door again, this time with more fervor. You inhaled sharply, taking hesitant steps towards the door until you were mere feet away from it. Eventually, you worked up the courage to look through the peephole, your brows furrowing in distress when all you could see was black—They were covering it. All the more reason not to open the door…

What if it’s a robber? Ridiculous, they don’t knock.

What if it’s just the neighbor? Why cover the peephole?

More and more did your mind swirl with endless possibilities, each one becoming less and less believable. Taking a long, deep breath, you doubled-checked the door-chain was on before slowly cracking it open. And as you attempted to peek through the sliver, nothing could’ve prepared you for the arm that forced its way through, startling you as you yelped, stumbling back as it made a grab at you.

Before you had the thought of shoving the door closed on the offender’s arm they grabbed the little chain, then yanked it clean out of the wall. To your terror, a dark hooded figure entered your home, head hung low, concealing their identity.

You began to hyperventilate, backing up to keep distance as they staggered further into your home before kicking the door closed behind them, effectively blocking you from the exit. Surely, someone heard your scream and would check in, or call the police. But, how long did you have before the intruder decided to make a move? Not to mention, your sleeping child just down the hall…

With that last thought in mind, you immediately steeled your nerves.

Even if you had to use your bare hands, you were going to do whatever it took to keep your baby out of harms way.

You reached for the closest weapon without taking your eyes off the figure, hands clasping onto a discarded umbrella that was leaned up against a closet door. It wasn’t ideal, but it would have to do. Taking a defensive stance, you prepared for what you assumed to be the inevitable.

“I-I don’t know who you are, or what you want…b-but if you don’t leave…my..my boyfriend will be home any minute! H-He knows how to fight, and he’ll fuck you up if you try anything!”

Your means of intimation fall on deaf ears. It were as if you hadn’t spoken at all. They just…stood there. Watching you from the darkness. That feeling, that hovering presence you’d been weary about all evening…there was no doubt in your mind it was because of this individual. Suddenly, they gave a watery chuckle, hand coming up to rub the lower half of their face as the chilling noise dissipated into soft snickers.

You sweatdropped. “I mean it! He’ll be here real soon, so you better get out of here before-”

“[_____]…” the figure finally rasped, voice heavy with an emotion you couldn’t decipher in the moment. You froze, eyes widening.

“…How the hell do you know my name?”

Without much urgency, they stepped forward into the light. Beneath the warm glow, it took you mere seconds to recognize the person standing before you. You gasped, trembling hands dropping the umbrella, it landing with a harsh clatter. Soft, mortified hitches in your breath echoed through the small space, memories flashing before your eyes as you covered your gaping mouth.

“M.. Ma..” you whimpered, throat tightening. A shell of a man, who gazed upon you with stormy eyes flooded with tears at the mere sight of you.

He gave another strained laugh, muttering to himself as he soaked you all in. “Needed to know.. Needed to know it was really you…”

Mikey eyed you up, intensely, eerily silent as he did so. Then, he took in the surroundings, the warmth, the interior, the smell of dinner—It truly felt like a home. A bitter pill to swallow once he reminded himself that you built it without him.

His sharp gaze returned to your stunned expression. He sneered.

“Must’ve been easy for you. To forget me and move on, just like that. Like I was nothing.”

You blinked, taken aback. All you could do was remain speechless, cemented to the ground with thoughts and questions racing in your head. Now matter how many times you opened your mouth, no sound would come out aside from choked whimpers.

“Do you know…how long I’d been searching for you? Been mourning for you?” He hissed through clenched teeth. “When you left, I thought… I thought someone had taken you. That I lost you all because I was too stubborn to say I’m sorry…”

As he spoke, Mikey slowly closed the space between you. The more he came into the light, the more you could see how the years had treated him. His cheekbones were more pronounced, the dark circles under his eyes as well. His lips were dry, cracked, his fair skin now ghoulishly pale. If not for the black hoodie you would’ve mistaken him as such; ghost of your past.

Your shoulders shook, hands hovering over your face as you gaped in disbelief. He’d been looking for you?

That night, that stupid fight you could barely remember…he made it crystal clear that he wanted nothing to do with you. He pushed you away. Pushed so hard that you almost believed he really wouldn’t have cared if you dropped dead. You knew he didn’t mean it, knew it was just another dark impulse…but none of that mattered when all your pregnancy tests came back positive just hours prior.

That night, you made the decision for the sake of your daughter. And also, for his sake. At the time, you were certain he wasn’t ready to be a father. He was quick to rage, merciless, losing himself to the darkness you tried to protect him from. If you had stayed, you were certain Mikey would’ve never forgiven himself if he lost control in front of his own flesh and blood, if the child grew to resent him for something he struggled to control.

You thought you were doing him a favor…but it appears to have done the opposite.

“And this whole time…you’ve been here, alive. Playing fucking house with someone else.”

You stiffened. Someone else? Your visible confusion only irritated him further.

He scoffed. “Don’t play dumb. You said it yourself. Too bad he won’t be coming home anytime soon. I’ve already got Sanzu and the Haitanis looking around for the bastard. And when they find him, I’ll make him regret sticking his filthy dick inside you.”

Confusion morphed into realization. You did threaten him with said hypothetical boyfriend…But, that was before you knew it was him!

“Oh, Manjiro…” you whispered. He glared, scorned.

“Don’t you dare pity me. I mean, you got the family you always wanted, right? So who cares who it was with, right? Congratu-fucking-lations.”

You shook your head, exhaling deeply as you held your face in your hands. For years, he thought you dead. Then, when he received word of your appearance, he finds you with child. And not once did he consider that child to be his? It’s like…he couldn’t fathom the thought.

If only he had looked just a little bit closer, he would’ve seen that she had his eyes. How they resembled those pools of ink that used to shine with so much hope back in his youth, so playful and full of love…those same eyes that now gazed upon you with contempt.

It stung.

He thought so low, not only of himself, but of you as well.

Taking a deep breath to reel in your emotions, tears began to well up in your eyes. He assumed they were tears for your doomed lover, further breaking his heart as Mikey clenched his fists to the point of nearly drawing blood. Luckily, even though you struggled to find the right words, someone else happily found them for you.

“Papa..?”

Both of you instantly drew your attention on the toddler standing near the kitchen, one fist clutching her blanket while the other rubbed the sleep from her eye. You glanced at Mikey, and he was stiller than stone. His once dead-stare had morphed into what could only be described as incredulous. Surely, he heard her incorrectly…

With a sniffle, you crouched down to address her, offering a soft grin as you nodded earnestly. “That’s right, sweetheart. Papa’s finally come home.”

The little girl blinked sleepily, taking a second to reboot. But, as soon as the words registered, a bright smile stretched across her face as she excitedly rushed towards Mikey, throwing herself onto his legs and hugging them like a koala as she chirped, “Papa, home!”

Said man hobbled a bit at the force, arms windmilling as he caught himself to keep from falling backwards. He didn’t know what to do with himself, especially when those big, round pools of ink opened and stared right up into his soul. Mikey’s heart nearly stopped. With a hitch in his breath, the gangster did everything he could to hold his composure, looking between you and the child as you both gazed at him with so much warmth…it was suffocating.

Sensing he was overwhelmed, you reached down to scoop up the bubbly bundle, holding her close as you eyed Mikey, apprehensively.

He resembled a cornered animal—Muscles stiff, jaw tight, eyes wild. After a moment, Mikey began to slowly back away into the shadows of your home, conflicted, devastated. It wasn’t until his back hit the door did he eventually fall to his ass, of which caused your child to giggle at how silly he was being. However, all you could do was hold back tears, watching as the reality started to weigh down on a man who just discovered he was a father.

Nervous, you gently explained. “I didn’t leave you because of our spat, Jiro…and I never moved on. I just…thought that I’d be doing more harm than good sticking around when I found out I was pregnant…I didn’t want to add any more stress on your plate, so I…”

Mikey didn’t respond. He sat there, stare vast and unfocused. But, you knew he hung on to every word. So you continued. “I wanted to tell you. But…I wasn’t sure how. At the time, I believed you had stopped caring about me altogether. And to hear you’d been looking for me, I-I’m…I’m so sorry. I’m sorry you harbored all that guilt. I didn’t mean for any of that to happen.”

Your daughter wiggled around in your hold, making small grunts in complaint. Her eyes were trained on his figure huddled in the dark, wanting to be acknowledged, wanting his attention. “Papa!”

Mikey flinched. He focused his gaze on the two you, haloed by the light emitting from the living room. You both were like salvation, reaching down to a broken sinner…How could she want anything to do with him? When he had missed so much already…

To keep from accidentally dropping her, you placed your daughter back on the ground, watching wearily as she wobbled all the way to Mikey, blanket in tow. You weren’t worried about him hurting her, far from it…if anything, he appeared to be the fragile one.

Eventually, she made it to her destination, standing before him with a curious, but eager expression as she rested a hand on his knee. Mikey watched her, took in all of her features, every last detail as he engraved it to memory. She was beautiful, just like her mother. One would think his genes didn’t stand a chance. But the eyes. That was all him. From his mother to his older brother to himself, there was no doubt in his mind that those were Sano eyes.

His lower lip quivered, reaching out hesitantly to caress her cheek. She didn’t cower away, merely babbled as she began patting his knee, allowing his thumb to rub over her chubby cheek. You clasped your hands over your mouth, growing even more emotional at the delicate moment. Mikey looked enamored already, eyes subtly sparkling from what you could see as they interacted.

“I-I told her stories, about you. And I made sure to show her photos, too. Old ones, but still you nonetheless. I wanted her to know who her father truly was. Despite everything else…”

Your daughter cooed, then placed her blanket in Mikey’s lap before climbing into it. Mikey didn’t dare move, rigid as she made herself comfortable. He looked up at you, looking for guidance, for reassurance. Your encouraging smile was enough for him to hesitantly place his hands on her small back for support, carefully adjusting so that she was stable. She laid her head on his chest and stuck her thumb in her mouth, sighing contentedly.

And, for the first time in years, he smiled.

When you hadn’t seen her familiar pigtails bobbing around, or heard any of her excited chatter with the receptionist up front, worry couldn’t even begin to describe what you felt the moment you realize…your daughter wasn’t here.

As soon as the meeting looked like it was wrapping up, you politely excused yourself from the room. Masking your worry wasn't too difficult, but there's no doubt a couple people might've noticed the spring in your step as you exited. One of them being Rindou Haitani. He watched you speed down the hall with mild interest, corner of his mouth ticking up ever so slightly as he thumbed around on his phone beneath the table. Having been updating his older brother during the meeting while he was on his smoke break, he was more than eager to inform him of the storm that was no doubt heading his way.

Little did the younger Haitani know, he was already dealing with one.

"And then, Haruka-kun tries to take Momo-kun's bento box because she had cuter animal shapes, but Momo-kun already said no, and so Haruka-kun pushes Momo-kun, and then tries to take it! But I pushed him and hit him with my fist, like this," she clenched up her tiny fist and held it up to Ran before striking down on his forearm with all her might. It didn't even pitch. "Like that."

The lavender-eyed man merely gazed upon her with mirth. "Did you now?"

"Mmhm! And teacher got so mad, and said that she would tell Ma about me fighting, but she's stupid because Ma didn't pick me up today, and I told Haruka-kun if he snitches, I'll beat 'em up!"

Ran lowly whistled. "Quite the little menace, ain'tcha?"

She pumped her fists. "Yeah!" Then, she paused, holding a finger to her chin in thought. "Wait...what's a menace?"

"Ah, something you inherited from your old man." He ruffled her hair, much to her displeasure. Though her innocent jab earlier regarding his age still hit a sore spot, he was starting to like the sound of it. She, on the other hand, wasn't convinced.

"I already told you; Ma was on her happy juice when she said that. She said not to believe anything she says when she's on happy juice. It makes her do silly things."

Ran chuckled. He knew that all too well. The little girl wouldn't be in this world if not for your inability to hold your liquor. But judging based on how you've raised her so far, clearly you made the right decision keeping him in the dark.

He'll admit, he wasn't the best in terms of commitment. Throughout his day to day, Ran just didn't have the energy. With being in Bonten, keeping an eye out for his younger brother, handling business, dealing with numbskulls and disposing of their bodies, there was never a time to even consider settling down. One-night stands and on and off flings were the easiest choice. At least, until he stumbled upon you.

You were the whole package and more. Classy, independent, witty, and a looker to top it all off. When Bonten started collaborating with the organization you worked in, he couldn't help but to be drawn to you—Like a moth to a flame. It started out as the occasional bantering, trying to one-up the other, catch them off guard. Ran was smooth with his words but could never quite beat your sharp tongue. Thus, things escalated to something more flirtatious. Harmless, but it didn't take long before the months of tension between the both of you began boiling over...and throwing alcohol into the mix, it was the first time Ran finally felt like he had the upper hand. Seeing how poorly you handled just a few glasses of wine, it endeared him. Seeing a piece of you that no one else had the privilege to witness. Your sloppy side, the clumsy, whiny, touchy side. After that long, passionate night beneath the sheets, the one time you and Ran allowed yourselves the space to be vulnerable with one another...you found yourself pregnant. And Ran found himself being nonethewiser.

He wonders, if he hadn't left the next morning and completely ghosted you...would you have kept him in the picture?

Suddenly, his phone dings. Reaching back to pull it from his back pocket, Ran half expected it to just be another update on the meeting or Rindou cursing at him to hurry his ass back inside. But, it wasn't that at all. And at the sound of your kitten heels rushing out of the building and halting at the top of the steps, Ran didn't even need to look up to know who was glowering down from them.

"Hey, Ma! Guess what, the purple man isn't such a meanie after all!"

Ran snorted, finally looking up from his phone to greet the woman who not only still had his heart, but evidently his first child. You, on the other hand, weren't so thrilled to see him.

"Rika. Wait inside. Ma's got some words for the purple man."

He smirked. "Wanna say 'em over a glass of wine?"

"You son of a-!"

"Bad word!" Your daughter covered her ears. You flushed, your composure nearly slipping just by being in his prescence. Ran, immediately seeing the opportunity, teasingly pouts at you whilst covering her tiny hands with his larger ones, shielding her.

"Honey, please, not in front of the child. Can't have her repeating those dirty words at school, can we?"

You fumed, speaking through clenched teeth. "Haitani, as soon as I get her in this building, away from you, I swear to God, I'm gonna wring your neck."

He hummed, amused. "Well. Guess she didn't get her violent side from me after all. Speaking of which, did you know at school today-"

"Hey! No snitching!"

“...What did you say?” 

You were hoping you heard the teacher wrong. Surely it was just your exhaustion taking the wheel. But, when her kind smile didn’t falter, nor did her gushes for the supposed “adorable display”, you immediately grew suspicious.

While heading home from work, you went to pick up your children from daycare. And when you arrived, the teacher merely informed you that it was already taken care of by your very handsome and very devoted husband. 

“I-I think you’re mistaken. My boyfriend and I aren’t married…”

The teacher, finally coming back down to earth, tilted her head in confusion. “Eh? You aren’t?” 

“Did he…say we were?” 

“Well, no. I just assumed since it was easy to tell who he was here for. Hikaru and Kaoru look so much like their daddy.”

You choked on your spit.  Hikaru and Kaoru look so much like their daddy. Hikaru and Kaoru look so much like their daddy.

You did everything in your power to keep from strangling the poor woman. Sure, she didn’t do anything wrong per say…but she sure did make a grave error. And your struggle to restrain your intrusive thoughts must’ve shown on your face from the way she placed a concerned hand on your arm. “Are you alright, miss? You look like you’re about to faint.”

“M-Mhm, yep, great, just peachy.” You squeaked through clenched teeth, sweatdrop on your forehead. “Could you um…confirm something for me?”

“Uh.? Er, sure. I’ll try my best.”

With tense shoulders and a tight smile, you asked, “Their…father…did his mouth have two scars in the corners?”

The teacher blinked, confused. Shouldn’t you already know that answer yourself?, she was probably thinking. And she would be right; you did know. But her simple, hesitant nod was the final nail in the coffin that was your delusion—Haruchiyo Sanzu had found you. And to make matters worse, he had the children.

Your smile faltered, twitching ever so slightly. Covering it with a forced chuckle, you cried, “Oh, that’s..wonderful! He’s always been self conscious about them, and I’m j-just.. beaming with joy that he’s embracing them more. Have a nice evening, Ms. Yuki.”

The teacher didn’t get a chance to respond as you quickly turned on your heel and began speed walking home. You’d apologize for your abrupt exit another day…right now there were more important matters to worry about. For instance—How on earth did Sanzu find you? How did he know about the twins and where they were? Oh, God…did he know about Satoru?

Dialing him up a few times only for the calls to go straight to voicemail weren’t reassuring in the slightest, having you rush across oncoming traffic just so you could avoid any further delays for your fraying nerves. You could see your apartment complex up ahead, heart thumping in your throat at the familiar, black SUV parked a couple blocks down. Had it not been for the heavily tinted windows and no license plates, you probably would’ve overlooked it. He knew where you lived. Stomach in knots, muscles stiff, nerves shot. You didn’t know whether to feel relieved or devastated. Your kids were safe at home, but at what cost? You stood in front of the building, rooted to the ground. Despite mentally preparing for this exact scenario for years, it all went down the drain the second you went to that daycare and discovered your children were missing.

It wasn’t until your phone vibrated did you snap out of your thoughts, shakily pulling the device out of your back pocket to check the notification.

from : unknown 1:06 pm     “ hi, mama.~ ”

Your stomach twisted. Attached to the message were two photos.

The first photo was of your kids eating McDonald's in the kitchen, happily cheesing and waving at the camera. You couldn't hold your choked gasp, hand coming up to hold your quivering lower lip—They were safe.

The second photo...was of Satoru. Tied to a chair, gagged, and beaten senseless. And standing behind him, holding him by his hair so that he could pose for the camera, grinning like a cheshire cat...

Another message pops up. Your grip tightened around your phone.

from : unknown 1:09 pm " daddy's home.~ "

© 2024-2025 anisespice ッ all rights reserved. likes, comments & reblogs much appreciated!

[fushitoru]

helloooo i literally ADOREEE your writing and have read ALL of your jjk works istg!!! i was wondering if you had any recs for any series? ive been in a slump lately and i rlly wanna read some new fics but cant find any :((

oh i gotchu. all of these are NSFW (unless otherwise indicated), well written, and untragic ending (uhhh unless i remember wrong, some of these i read a long time ago) because i'm picky and a pussy.

completed

gojo satoru

convergence theory (ao3)

canon au, marriage of convenience au. tension is well written, and gojo is a little shit lke he would be in canon. beautiful and yummy characterization of him as the complex character he is.

shame on me by @starmapz

canon au. i love how gojo is written, and i love trish's writing style, lol. reader has a curse inside her, like sukuna is inside yuji, and gojo comes to take her to jjt. it's very well written the yearning >

games and matches by @lostfracturess

modern au, dad's best friend au. AHHH HE'S SOSOSO FINE IN THIS like i need him so bad. i just love reader's inner conflict and also the drama. i need dilf gojo <3

pandora's box by @c0pkiller

priest au. it's just so interesting to see them battle their impulses and what their religion has told them to do. the pining is chef's kiss, and satoru is realllyyy sweet in this one. i didn't know what to expect when i was reading it but wow it was very, very well written.

moonlight (ao3)

canon au, mating bond au. sort of omega verse but not really. the sexual tension is INSANE and it's genuinely so well written. the angst is delicious and the comfort that follows is even more delicious.

family formation by @dellalyra

found family au in canon universe. i love this one, super fluffy and well written. it's super domestic, and very comforting. i love gojo (as a father and daddy :p)

ukiyo (ao3)

secret marriage au in canon. super flufy as well baha gojo is adorbs :3

baby steps by @lemonlover1110

pregnancy au, and if i remember correctly canon au. the tea in this is crazyyy actually, and i felt the angst as gojo and reader grappled with the pregnancy. i loved the ending, it felt so rewarding <3

nanami kento

inflitration by @pseudowho

canon au, fake marriage au. i loved the pining in this. It had a lot of my favorite tropes, including forced proximity, the classic making out to avoid getting caught, and fake marriage (to overthrow a cult). also haitch writes this man beautifully so ik it was going to a banger

strangers in love by @ayyy-pee

exes to lover au, and the angst hurts really good. they make up very well by the end and i love this series a lottt. lexi writes conflicts out so beautifully, and im so in love. the end had me on my toes but i was so glad nanami pulled thru <3

your best friend's brother by @delirious-donna

modern au, best friend's brother au. the humor is done amazingly well, and their writing style is amazing. The sexual tension is actually INSANE there were times I was screaming at them to fuck because of the chemistry they had :3

toji fushiguro

unscripted (ao3) by @ryowriten / @kasukuna

modern au, toji's a erotic va in this. ITS SO FUNNy and megumi is super super silly. reader is so me coded (she's a loser basically) and toji is super hot. the sexual tension is amazing and it feels like reading a rom com.

sukuna ryomen

hesitance by @yenayaps

modern au, gym employees au SO FLUFFFYYY READER IS ME. i love sukuna like this, where he's so down bad. the ending is sooo sweeet it'll make you cry

defiance by @yenayaps

heian era au. GRAAHHHHHH THIS ONE WAS SO SWEET IT'S SO CUTE LIKE THE ENDING MADE ME CRY BC IT WAS SO SWEET. everyone needs to read this one, i love heian era aus like this

ongoing (BUT i have very strong faith that they are going to be finished because the authors are active with frequent updates. otherwise i'll kms live on camera)

what you know by @starmapz

sukuna x reader college AU. SUPER self indulgent, sukuna is such a cutie. i would even say found family au because sukuna takes care of his brothers and AHHH IT'S ADORABLEEE <3 it's also really steamy bc sukuna is SO HOT so :333

kickoff by @celestie0

gojo x reader, college AU. oh my god i love this series gojo is so lore accurate if he was a college student in 2024. he's just ughhhh so well written you will have such a crush on him. also reader is a baddie too what can i say

in holy matrimony by @celestie0

gojo x reader, modern au, fake marriage au. the banter in this is BEAUTIFUL it's so fucking funny. it's sort of like a rom com, and the angst is just written so beautifully. reader is just a girl :(

motherhood and matrimony by @alygator77

gojo x reader, fake marriage au ceo au. AHH THIS FIC IS MY GUILTY PLEASURE. please im always on my toes with this one, reader's a single mom and her son's interaction w gojo are sooo cute. gojo best dad :(

controller by @yenayaps

sukuna x reader, ceo au. i haven't gotten the chance to fully read this one but WOW seeing the tags + knowing how sienna writes this is gonna be FIRE

angels in the snow (ao3)

nanami x reader, strangers to lovers. don't be afraid to pick this one up just because it's ongoing, you'll feel very satisfied because it feels like a collection (and has 52 chapters already) than an incomplete series. nanami and reader meet at an airport and have to drive home together bc their flight gets canceled. the progression of their relationship is so sweet, and he's suchhh a green flag. very comfy <3

[thebearer]

making the bed |carmen berzatto x reader| part one

prompt: carmen's stressed. food critics, a newborn baby, balancing work life and married life and now dad life; he's bound to break, everyone knows it. but no one ever thought he'd lash out on you.

or, part one of the devastation fic. based off this ask from the other day. two more parts to come.

contains: mega angst. mega angst, with no resolution in this part. hurt, no comfort (in this chapter, will be later in part 3). mean!carmen, very mean. mom!reader x dad!carmen with newborn teddy. fighting, language, carmen says mean stuff he doesn't mean. past mentions of trauma, family trauma, mikey mentioned. very angsty and a little heavy, please read at your own discretion. word count- 3.5k+.

"Are you ok?"

Carmen now understood why that phrase used to send Donna into such a blind rage, lips pursing and jaw clenching more and more every time he heard it. First at work, then with you, it felt never ending.

It was beginning to feel like critic season with how many were coming in, snooty and demanding to be impressed. It couldn't have come at a worst time, right in the middle of busy season with the start of the holidays. Days at The Bear were filled with frantic panic, running around, making sure everything was perfect, accounted for, and Carmen always had the sinking feeling it wasn't- that he'd forgotten something, messed something up. 

It wasn't rare for him to work himself up like this, a normal that you always warned him about, but he'd always had a solitude. As long as he'd known you, he'd had a place to go, to unwind, to let himself rest and reset with you. And he still did, it was just shared now with a newborn.

Dorothea Michelle. Teddy, for short. The light of his life, yours too. Nearly two months old with a set of lungs that sounded much louder, much more developed than that. Nights were long, sleepless, spent trying to lull Teddy back to sleep, awake even if he wasn't up with her. Carmen couldn't allow himself the selfishness to relax, to rewind, to "take it easy" like everyone told him to. At work, he was the boss; at home, he was a dad.

"Fuck, fuck," Carmen's sleepy stare was broken by a lick of bubbling heat, the lamb's roux popping with the high heat, splashing all over Carmen's chef whites.

"Jeff, c'mon," Tina clicked, shaking her head, moving the pan to lower heat. "What're you doin'?"

Carmen grit his teeth, snatching a rag off the stainless steel counter tops, scrubbing the burgundy stain, huffing when it only spread the stain.

"What happened?" Sydney turned, looking from the burnt sauce to Carmen's stained chef shirt. "Oh,"

"Do we have a spare coat?" Carmen huffed, throwing the rag down with a firm smack against the counter.

"I don't think so, Carm." Sydney shook her head. "You took the last ones home with you two days ago. The wine-"

"-I know, Chef, I know." Carmen snapped, running a hand through his hair. "Fuck, I-I can't fuckin' serve the critics lookin' like this. With shit all over me- fuck."

"Hey, easy, easy," Richie turned the corner, his hands held up. "What's goin' on?"

"Jeff got sauce over him. He doesn't have any clean clothes." Tina muttered, irritated that she had to fix his mess, more irritated that he wasn't taking care of himself. You have a baby, Jeff, you need to rest and take some time, she'd told him. Carmen only waved her off.

"Okay, okay, hey, that's no problem." Richie's voice raised, lifting over Carmen's. "You go home and change, get your spare, check on my beautiful goddaughter, and then come back with your A game. Yes?"

Carmen didn't even humor him with a snarky remark, yanking his coat off and stomping towards the office to grab his things. Richie and Tina looked at each other, shaking their head gently.

"Kids runnin' thin, T." Richie muttered with a sigh. "He's gonna break. It's gonna be bad."

"Yeah, he is. Gonna wear himself out before then." Tina shook her head. "Jeff needs a vacation." They both jumped at the slamming of the backdoor, Carmen's angry exit shaking the foundation.

"Needs to be fuckin' medicated. Fuckin' lunatic." Richie scoffed, rolling his eyes at Carmen's dramatics.

The drive home was filled with silence, Carmen's iron grip on the wheel, tearing through the traffic towards the house- his house, his home. 

Home, but it didn't provide the same comfort that it usually did. Carmen's shoulders still stayed tense, buzzing with rage, not dissipating when he thought of you, or of Teddy, knowing you'd both be there, excited to see him. 

You jumped at the sound of the car door slamming, peeking out the window to see Carmen's parked next to yours, furiously stomping up the front steps. You frowned, grabbing the baby monitor, walking towards the front door.

Carmen nearly hit you with how fiercely he flung the door open. "Woah," You reached for the door, stopping it before he could flick it shut. "Carm, don't slam it. Teddy's asleep. I just got her down." You frowned at him, shutting it slowly.

Carmen looked at you but didn't speak, looking through you with a rage that had your spine tingling before he finally broke his gaze, stomping towards the laundry room. "Carm? What’re you doing home? Don’t you have dinner soon?" You hesitated slightly, lingering in the doorway with an uncertainty you hadn’t felt with Carmen before. 

Carmen didn’t answer, his jaw still ground tight while he rummaged through the clean clothes, carelessly unfolding and shifting the folded clothes.

"Carmen," You said more firmly, caching his gaze. He didn't speak still, just stared at you- through you. "Are you ok?" You lifted a brow, features softening in worry.

Carmen paused, eyes closing, shoulders tensing in agitation. Are you ok? His ears rang, a familiar rage that he hadn't felt in years bubbling up deep in his chest. Frustrated and blinding and rampant, heat rushing through his veins, pulling himself further and further from reality into someplace different- someplace darker in his mind. 

"What's wrong?" You pressed, he could barely hear it, ears ringing at your question. "Did something happen? Did the critic come-"

"-Where's my chef whites?" Carmen barked, cutting you off, his chest tightening more and more with every heavy heave of his chest. You flinched at his tone.

"Uh, I-I haven't seen the whites. I washed your white tee-"

“-You what? Y-You what?” Carmen spat, eye widening with a wild, raged glint in his eye. Your stomach flipped and fell with fear, stepping back instinctively. 

“I-I washed your tee, Carm, that’s all that you left in the laundry basket-” 

"-Are you fucking kidding me?" Carmen boomed, his head spinning, body buzzing with rage. Your breath hitched, frozen in fear at the anger in his tone, the roar of his voice bouncing off the walls, echoing through your ears in a painful drum. 

Carmen moved, snatching the dirty clothes basket, dumping it into the ground with a shake until the dirty chef coat fell on top. He gripped the basket, flinging it across the room with a hard throw. The final push to his bad mood that sent him right over the edge, crashing into a pit of blinding fury, aggravation, breaking him from the inside out.

"Fuck!" Carmen roared, his voice shaking the walls, your breath leaving your lungs in a trembling exhale of fear. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! This is- This is- Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me?” 

You tensed in shock, gripping the baby monitor in fear, maybe surprise, as it started to buzz to life with Teddy's startled whimpers. Her small cries pulled you out of your frozen state, something deeper than fear replacing the ache in your stomach. 

"Carmen-" You gaped, voice wobbling with uncertainty, taking slow shuffled steps towards the stairs. “Carmen, calm-calm down. Ok? Calm down.” 

“Calm down? You want me to fuckin’ calm down?” Carmen sneered, an angry red flush blossoming in splotchy deep hues up his neck, towards his cheeks. “You don’t do shit, nothin’ that I fuckin’ ask for! Just sit around all fuckin’ day an-and I’m supposed to calm down?” 

“Carmen,” Your voice wobbled, throat tight with tears, hurt and fear strangling your words. “I-You didn’t ask me to wash them. I-I didn’t know. They weren’t in the hamper-” 

“-I shouldn’t have to ask you to wash them!” Carmen roared, eyes so wide you thought they might pop right out of his head, neck vein protruding on exemplifying his rage. “You know what I’m going through! You know how much fuckin’ stress I’m under! I go to that-that shit hole, an-and work my fuckin’ ass off so you don’t have to! Then I come home, and I-I can’t even get a second of peace!” 

“Stop,” You hiss, finally regaining your composure, his words fully sinking into you  now, feeling the full effect of them. “I-I just had a baby. I’m still on maternity leave taking care of a baby- our baby, and I’m tired too. But I’m not yelling at you-” 

“-Oh, right. Right.” Carmen laughs sarcastically, humorless as he runs his hand down his face. It felt mocking, left you feeling small and too vulnerable for your liking. “Because in between your napping an-and feeding, you couldn’t stick a fucking jacket in the wash, right? You’re so busy.”  

“What is wrong with you?” You snap, hoping he can’t hear the tears in your voice, the way your voice shakes with emotion. 

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with me?” Carmen scoffs, throwing his hands out. “I get no fuckin' sleep, go work my fuckin' ass off, a-and then I come home so I can go back and work my ass off some more, and-and you can’t do one simple fuckin’ thing? You can’t help me out? And then you wanna know what’s wrong with me? When you sit on your ass all fuckin’ day-” 

Teddy’s piercing wail pulls you out of your shocked trance, nose and throat burning with hurt filled tears you refuse to shed. Instead, you turn, climbing the stairs on shaky legs, the sound of Teddy’s cries growing louder and louder. Anchovy watches you from the top of the stairs, sensing the tension, your upset, sliding against your leg as if to comfort you. 

Carmen scoffs, hands buzzing and trembling with rage, the ringing in his ears growing louder and louder with each of your footsteps on the stairs and down the hall. He can barely hear Teddy’s sobs, hands threading through his hair, pulling at his scalp. He sees you walk towards the bedroom, quickly, hugging Teddy to your chest. 

“Oh, don’t go fuckin’ do it now!” Carmen roared, your ignoring him only infuriating him further. “It won’t be ready in time now. I’ll just look like a fuckin’ idiot for the critic tonight! Not that you care! Why would you, huh? I-I mean just our livelihood, just our fuckin’ income!” 

You swallowed back your tears, head tilting towards the ceiling, hands shaking with every shove of your things into the overnight bag. Just enough to get you through the night, the next day. A few essentials, Teddy’s spare onesies, a charger, your wallet- you stopped mid-shove of your items into the weekender bag, the sun’s rays catching in your wedding ring. Your heart fell, more and more, you weren’t sure how that was even possible. 

Carmen’s furious voice was still booming from downstairs, ringing and shaking in his furious fit. Richie and Sugar both warned you about Carmen’s tantrums, brought them up to embarrass him, tease him about it until he was red faced and hissing hushed threats at them. You never, never in your wildest dreams thought you’d be on the receiving end of one. 

You jumped, another slam of something Carmen had thrown, maybe hit in a fit of rage, causing Teddy to wail louder, Anchovy skittering nervously away. Tears leaked out of your eyes, twisting the ring off your finger, setting it on Carmen’s bedside table. Pulling the carrier out of the closet, Anchovy got in much easier than usual, which you were thankful for. 

Carmen was gripping the marble of the countertop when he heard you again, walking from the bottom of the stairs, quick steps towards the door to the garage, Teddy’s voice nearly hoarse from her crying. You kept your head high, tunnel-visioned towards your car, ignoring his heavy breathing and frantic pacing. 

“Wha-What are you doin’?” Carmen’s voice was softer now, still with a jagged edge that was cutting and harsh. The car door opened, the baby carrier hooked into the car seat. 

“Hey, wha- what are you- where’re you goin’? What’re you doin’?” Carmen’s heart dropped in a damning rush of hour, stumbling on heavy legs towards the garage. You ignored him, shushing Teddy gently, running a calming hand over her wet cheek, trying to coax her paci into her mouth. 

“Baby, no-no, no. Hey, no, I-I- What-” Carmen’s chest felt tight, mind numbing and racing, stuttering nervously. You reached for your bag, his hand reaching to grab the strap. “Whe-Where’re you-”

“-Don’t touch me.” You hissed, teeth bared, eyes shining with tears. Carmen flinched, pulling his hand back like he’d touched a hot stove. “Don’t you dare fucking touch me.” You sneered, pinning him with a watery glare that had his stomach turning in sickening fear. 

“Baby, hey, w-wait-C’mon, d-don’t-You don’t, you don’t need to do this, ok? I-I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Carmen choked out the words, frantic and unsure, his hands shaking when they ghosted over you back just for a moment. Wanting to touch you, to hold you, to grab you and keep you from leaving, but too scared to. Instead, he grabbed the car door you flung open, holding it when you tried to yank it closed. 

“Let go.” You hissed, sniffling back wet, snotty tears of fury and hurt. 

“Please, don’t-do-don’t do this. Please, baby, I-I’m sorry.” Carmen begged, blue eyes deepening with the burning red hues of tears, bloodshot and lashes wet. “Don’t-Don’t do this-” 

“-I didn’t do this.” You sneered, leaving Carmen flinching at your words. “Don’t you dare try to say this was me. After how you just talked to me? The shit you said to me in there? You think I’m going to stay?” Your voice cracked with emotion, lips pressing together to keep a cry in. 

“No, no, no, no, no, baby, please. Please, ju-just come inside. Come inside, please? Please, don’t-” 

“You don’t get to talk to me like that. To say that kinda stuff to me. That hurt, Carmen. That was mean.” You glared at him, tears leaking out of the corner of his eyes. “I don’t care if you’re stressed. I don’t care what’s going on- nothing, and I mean nothing, warrants you talking to me like that. Just because you fucked up, because you forgot to ask me to do it, because you’re stressed out- I don’t care what it is. You don’t talk to me like that, say those things when I’ve been home all day taking care of my ch- our child.” You nod back towards the sniffling baby, whimpering and crying half heartedly, her little eyelids drooping with sleep that was interrupted. 

Carmen felt sick, his knees tightening in fear, he was sure they might give out, that he might fall to the ground right there. Looking at the tiny baby, lip jutted and shaking in the mirror hooked on the back of the seat, then back at you, eyes red-rimmed and glaring at him with a hurt filled anger. 

“Don’t-” Carmen’s chest shook, a white-knuckled grip on the door. 

Your own hand curled around the door’s inner handle, yanking it away from him. “Move,” You hissed, pulling again. 

Carmen wasn’t sure why he let it go, why he let you shut it, locking the door in case he tried to open it again. Why he let you pull out of the driveway, why he didn’t stop you, why he didn’t run after you, only taking soft shuffles down the drive like a zombie as you drove away. Standing in the drive, Carmen swallowed down the spit that pooled in his mouth, stomach churning, sure he was going to be sick. 

He managed to trudge back to the garage, mind racing and far away, the ringing in his ears dulling but still deafening. It felt like he was in a dream- a nightmare, a hallucinating trance that felt like a sick, sick dream- Carmen was hoping it was. That he’d wake up and find you next to him asleep. That he could hug you, pull you into him, nose buried in your neck, still warm from your slumber. 

As the sun began to sink low into the sky, minutes turning into hours that Carmen sat motionless in the garage, staring in a trancelike state, he realized that this wasn’t a dream or a nightmare. No this was his reality, a horrific reality that he’d made into his own. Carmen sat, eyes trained on the concrete of the garage, voice racing and blending in his mind- his words, yours, Teddy’s cries, Natalie and Richie’s, flashbacks of his mother screaming fits. 

He didn’t move, frozen in chilling, eerie fear. What ifs and terrifying possible scenarios, consequences to his own actions that left him feeling sick, hands trembling. A spiraling of fears that only drug him deeper and deeper with every haunting replay of his outburst. Even the flashing of headlights turning into the driveway, filling the garage with light, didn’t pull him from his trance. 

“The fuck is he- Cousin!” Richie roared, laying on the horn. Carmen didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge that he heard it, only stared. Richie frowned, turning the car off, throwing the door open. 

“Cousin? Carm? What-What are you doin’? Dinner service started an hour ago. Syd is freakin’ the fuck out.” Richie threw his hands up, walking towards the man who still didn’t move. Richie’s heart skipped, flashbacks of Mikey flooding into his vision, parallels of the two brothers blurring before him. 

“Yo, Carm, you-you good?” Richie stepped into the garage, his spine tingling with icy fear. It was quiet, an eerie, unsettling quiet. “Cousin, hey, what-what’s wrong?” 

Carmen's chest rose and fell, tighter and tighter. He was suffocating, head spinning and mind racing so fast he felt light headed. He could barely hear Richie’s voice over the noise in his head, Richie’s hand shaking his shoulder finally breaking his trance enough to meet his eyes, rounded in fear filled question. 

“Carmen, what’s wrong? Is it- Don’t fuckin’ tell me it’s the baby. What the fuck is goin’ on-” 

“-She left.” Carmen’s voice shook, raspy and scared. His tongue still felt too thick, head still spinning. He wasn’t even sure he said it, Richie’s widening eyes the only thing confirming that he had said it. 

“What? Who-Who left? Who?” Richie looked around, like the clues might be there, sure that Carmen wasn’t talking about you. No, he wouldn’t- he couldn’t. Not you. 

Carmen’s breath hitched, a strangling of a sob caught in his throat, running his hand over his face. Richie didn’t miss the way it trembled, shaking even as it rested over his eyes. Your car was gone, the house too quiet, no baby Teddy crying, nothing but silence was left. 

Richie’s heartbeat crawled into a rapid, scared pace. “Why? Wh-Why would she-” Richie looked at Carmen, eyes wide but still, reading his expression. “No. No, Cousin, no. What-What did you do? Carmen,” Richie grabbed both his shoulders, shaking him lightly until he met his gaze. “What did you do?” 

Carmen’s face began to crack, behind his eyes, Richie could see flashbacks of something- something he didn’t know what, but whatever it was, it was painful. That was evident by the fear that glossed over Carmen’s eyes, realization and horror. Carmen’s shoulders shook, frame rocking with a sob he tried to swallow, but couldn’t. Deep cries, guttural sobs breaking out of his frame, heels of his hands pressed to his eyes, fingers curled and clenched around his greasy curls in agony. 

The damning realization flooded over him, that you’d left. 

You’d left, you’d taken Teddy, taken Anchovy- you’d left because he’d driven you away. His angry outburst, petulant, mean, hurtful- he’d been so cruel to you. You. His wife, the love of his life, mother of his child, the one person who loved him endlessly without stipulations or boundaries, the one person who truly understood him. 

And he’d driven you away. 

He wished he could blame his mom, his dad, his family for fucking him up so severely, maybe Mikey, even, for leaving him the shit show that was the restaurant, making his anxieties worse and fuse shorter. But sitting in the empty garage, Richie standing above him in silent shock, his sobs and angry sniffles echoing off the cement floor, Carmen knew he had no one to blame but himself. 

He’d fucked up. Really fucked up. Fucked up in a way that made all the other times look obsolete. 

Carmen had fucked up, and for once, he didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t avoid it, ignore it, deflect it like other times. Half hearted apologies and promises of change wouldn’t work, you weren’t here for him to even try to give them to you, and he didn’t know where you went. 

Carmen wasn’t sure where you went, how to fix this, why he’d done what he did, and a million other things that raced through his mind. What he did know, sitting in the too quiet garage, chest stuttering with heaving cries, was that he’d do anything. 

Anything, to get you back home. To make it right. To fix this and make it up to you. 

He wasn’t sure how, but he’d give up everything. Anything. His restaurant, his dreams, his hopes, his life, at this point, to make it up to you. 

[mononijikayu]

just one day — nanami kento.

Do you think, my darling,” he asked after a moment, his voice thoughtful, “that we’ll look back on this day and remember it as one of those rare, perfect moments?” You nuzzled against him, feeling his warmth envelop you. “I hope so. It feels perfect to me right now.” Kento’s smile grew, a look of contentment on his face. “Then it’s perfect. And it’s a memory I’ll cherish.”

GENRE: Alternate Universe - Canon Convergence;

WARNING/s: NSFW, R-18+. Romance, Oral (f receiving), Masturbation (m receiving), Friends to Lovers, Husband and Wife, Friendship, Husband! Nanami, Reader! Wife, Fluff, Drama, Comfort, Falling In Love, Flirting, Fix-It, Humor, Domesticity, Family Life, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Idiots In Love, Light-Hearted, Slice of Life, Pining, Depiction of Sexual Acts, Depiction of Nudity, Mention of Sexual Acts, Mention of Nudity, Nanami Being A Great Husband;

WORDS: 9k words.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: im back hello hello!!! its been a while since i did something for kento. but he won second place in the recent poll and this had to be published soon after. reader and nanami speak danish at home, because reader and kento are fluent. speaking danish at home together makes it easier for them to retain danish!!! anyway, enjoy this~ i love you all <3

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safe and sound | just one day

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HE DOESN’T THINK HE’S EVER BEEN USED TO REST. Nanami Kento wasn’t one for lazy days. His life was always defined by structure, order, and discipline—but today, he found himself yearning for something different.

He woke up to the sun pouring through the curtains, a rare warmth on his face, and instead of feeling the usual rush of urgency to start his day, he felt… content. He had a day off, a luxury in his line of work, and there was only one thing he wanted to do with it: spend it with you. In all ways he can. In all ways he wants. Even if they were a little greedy on his part. 

The thing that woke you up was a soft, feather-light sensation, and it took you a moment to realize it was the brush of Kento's lips. He was nestled between your thighs, his face nuzzling against the tender skin, his mouth moving with an almost reverent slowness. A gasp escaped your lips, your hand instinctively reaching out to tangle in his tousled hair as he continued, his tongue tracing slow, deliberate patterns that sent shivers up your spine.

Your fingers curled into the sheets, and a soft mewl slipped from your throat as his hands gripped your hips, guiding you closer. The sound of your voice, the way your body trembled beneath his touch—Kento could feel his heart swell with a quiet kind of happiness, a fulfillment that came from these rare, precious moments of intimacy.

He didn’t rush. There was no need. For once, time stretched luxuriously before him, each second an opportunity to savor the taste of you, to feel the softness of your skin, and to relish the way your body responded to his every movement. You could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, hear the quiet hum of pleasure in his throat as he lost himself in the moment.

Your breaths grew shallow, each exhale a soft sigh that filled the quiet room. Every touch of his lips against you sent another wave of heat rushing through your body, an intoxicating mix of pleasure and tenderness that made your mind go blank. You could feel the slow, deliberate rhythm of his mouth against you, the gentle yet insistent pressure building as he explored every sensitive inch.

Kento's fingers tightened around your thighs, his grip firm yet affectionate. His touch was both a request and a command, guiding you closer to the edge with a patience that bordered on worship. You could sense his focus, his devotion in the way he moved—completely immersed in you, in the sounds you made, in the way your body trembled under his care.

Your hands slid from the sheets to his shoulders, gripping onto him as if anchoring yourself to reality. He looked up at you for a moment, his warm, honeyed eyes catching yours, a faint smile tugging at his lips. The expression was so soft, so utterly different from the usual calm and composed mask he wore, that it sent your heart racing even faster.

"Kento..." you whispered, your voice barely more than a breath, the name falling from your lips like a prayer. “My love….O–oh—”

He didn't answer, not with words. Instead, he hummed against you, a deep, satisfied sound that sent vibrations through your core. The sensation made you arch against him, a shiver running down your spine as he continued his gentle assault. His hands, strong and steady, slid up to cradle your hips, pulling you even closer as he redoubled his efforts.

That sweet, delicious pleasure had continued to build, an unstoppable tide rising higher and higher, and your body responded in kind, moving against his talented mouth with increasing urgency. You could feel the tension coiling in your stomach, tight and insistent, drawing closer and closer to the breaking point. 

And just when you thought you couldn't hold on any longer, when every nerve in your body felt like it was on fire, he pulled back ever so slightly, his breath hot against your skin as he murmured your name with a softness that melted into your very soul.

"I want to see you, darling." he whispered, his voice husky, a rare vulnerability lacing his words. "Let me see you."

Your eyes fluttered open, and immediately, you were met with Kento’s gaze. The intensity there was almost overwhelming, as if he was seeing straight into your soul, making you feel like the only person in the world. His eyes bore into yours with a kind of fervor that left you breathless, and in that moment, nothing else seemed to exist—only him, only you, and the deep connection that bound you together. 

You felt the corners of his mouth curl into a smile against you, a grin that was both mischievous and filled with a quiet, determined hunger. There was a glint in his eye, a challenge, almost, and before you could take another breath, he pulled you closer, his hands firm yet gentle on your thighs, anchoring you in place. You gasped as his mouth began to move more urgently, his tongue working against you with a renewed fervor, each movement precise, deliberate. 

He devoured you with a raw, animalistic hunger that sent a shockwave of pleasure rippling through your entire body. The rhythm of his tongue was relentless, his mouth eager and commanding, sending electric shivers up your spine. Every stroke, every flick, every swirl of his tongue against you was masterful, calculated to draw out the most sinful sounds from your lips. You could feel your body responding, arching toward him, giving in to the pleasure that he was so expertly creating.

Your head fell back against the pillow, a soft cry escaping your lips as you gripped the sheets tightly, your fingers curling around the fabric as if it were the only thing keeping you tethered to reality. The sounds of your pleasure filled the room, mingling with the soft rustle of the sheets and the rhythmic pulse of your heartbeat in your ears. The heat of his mouth, the way his lips moved with purpose and confidence, sent you spiraling higher and higher, your mind going hazy, your senses overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of what you were feeling.

His hands pressed into the soft flesh of your thighs, fingers digging in just enough to hold you in place, to keep you from escaping the onslaught of pleasure he was determined to give you. The slight sting of his grip only heightened the sensations, drawing a strangled moan from your throat. You could feel the tension building within you, coiling tighter and tighter like a spring wound to its limit, ready to snap.

He continued, undeterred, his mouth moving faster, harder, as if he could sense how close you were, as if he wanted to push you over that edge and watch you fall apart for him. His eyes never left yours, locked in a gaze so intense it was almost too much to bear. It was as if he was silently demanding you to give in, to surrender completely to the pleasure he was giving you, and you found yourself unable to resist.

The sunlight poured over the bed, bathing you both in a warm, golden glow, and you felt it—felt the rush building, cresting like a wave about to break. The sensation was overwhelming, the pleasure almost too much, your breath coming in short, desperate gasps. And then, with a cry that was both raw and helpless, you shattered, your body trembling, your back arching off the bed as you came, waves of pleasure crashing over you in relentless succession.

For a moment, there was nothing but white-hot sensation, your body convulsing with the force of your release, every nerve alive, every muscle taut. You could hear your own voice, your cries mingling with the sound of his name, and the world seemed to tilt on its axis, time itself pausing in the wake of your climax.

Kento didn’t stop, didn’t slow, his tongue continuing its relentless rhythm, prolonging your pleasure, drawing out every last shiver, every last gasp, until you were nothing more than a trembling, breathless mess beneath him. When he finally eased back, his lips were swollen, glistening with your arousal, a satisfied smile on his face. His hands moved up to your hips, fingers tracing gentle patterns on your skin as if to soothe the raw edges of your pleasure.

He looked up at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of pride and adoration, his breathing heavy, his face flushed with desire. “Beautiful, darling.” he murmured, his voice low and thick with satisfaction, as if he’d just discovered a new truth about you, about both of you. "Absolutely beautiful."

You tried to catch your breath, your heart still racing, your skin tingling with the aftershocks of your climax. You could feel a flush spreading across your cheeks, a lazy smile tugging at your lips as you reached down, your fingers threading through his hair, tugging him up to meet your lips in a deep, grateful kiss.

And in that moment, with the sunlight spilling over the bed, with his mouth still tasting of you, you felt an overwhelming sense of completeness, of being entirely, perfectly alive.

This was the truest, the rawest of your husband. This is the side of Nanami Kento that was reserved only for you—a side that didn’t know the meaning of restraint, that didn’t care for the rigid lines of routine. Today, he allowed himself to be utterly devoted to the simple, intoxicating pleasure of you. He was going to enjoy you, worship you, love you; even if it was just for one day.

Nanami Kento hovered over you, your warmth still shining against his lips. He huffed a breath, watching you as you recovered. Your hair was tousled against the pillow, your breathing slow and even, and he felt a rare sense of peace wash over him. He reached out, brushing a few strands of hair from your face, his touch feather-light so as not to wake you just yet. He wanted this — this quiet, stolen moment — for just a little while longer.

When your eyes met his, shining in golden sunlight, a small sleepy smile spread across your lips, and Kento felt his chest tighten with affection. He licked his lips, drowning in the traces of you against his tongue.

“Good morning, my love.” you whispered, your voice still laced with sleep. “You’re too….. ravenous today.”

“Good morning, darling.” he replied, his voice a low rumble. He didn’t move, just continued to look at you with an intensity that made your cheeks flush. “You just looked so good, you know? I couldn’t help myself.”

You felt your face turn even more flustered. “You flatter me too much.”

He smiled at you. “I said nothing that was untrue. Especially not about my beloved wife.” His fingers trace against the loose echoes of your tousled hair. “I have the day off today.” he added, as if it were a secret he was letting you in on. “I’m all yours, my darling.”

You blinked, surprised, then your smile grew wider. “Really? No exercising curses or dealing with Satoru’s antics?”

“None. None at all.” he confirmed. “And I intend to do absolutely nothing. ‘ust wanna be with you today, hm?”

You laughed softly, a sound he always found soothing. “Nothing, huh? That’s new for you.”

“Don’t get used to it, my darling.” he warned, but there was a rare softness in his tone, a hint of amusement that only you could bring out. He slid closer, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you against him. “But today… I just want to stay here with you. No obligations. No responsibilities. Just us.”

You snuggled into his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your cheek. “I can’t think of a better way to spend the day.”

He smiled, a small, genuine smile that you didn’t see often enough. “Neither can I.” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

You looked at Kento, your lips curling into a lazy smile that made his breath hitch. Your eyes were half-lidded, still heavy with sleep, but there was a mischievous glint in them that sent a rush of heat straight through him.

You moved slowly, deliberately, your fingers trailing down to the waistband of his pajama pants. His breath caught in his throat as he felt the gentle, teasing pressure of your fingers tracing the outline of him through the fabric, feeling the stiffness grow beneath your touch.

“Kento…” you whispered, your voice soft but filled with intent. You could feel his body tense beneath your hand, his eyes darkening with a mix of surprise and desire as he watched you. Slowly, you began to rub him, your fingers moving with a deliberate slowness, enjoying the way his breath became uneven, a low groan slipping from his lips.

He muttered your name, his voice strained, barely able to contain the sound of his pleasure. “D-darling…”

You grinned wider, a playful expression that only heightened his longing. You slipped your hand beneath the hem of his pajamas, fingers brushing against his heated skin, and his body responded instantly, hips lifting slightly as if seeking more of your touch.

“I want it, my love.” you murmured, your voice laced with a seductive sweetness that made his heart race.

Kento’s breath came in ragged bursts now, his composure crumbling with every stroke of your hand. He watched you, utterly captivated, as you gripped him more firmly, palming his growing erection, feeling the way it throbbed under your fingers. You took your time with Kento, savoring the feel of him, the way his body seemed to tremble with anticipation.

“Please, my love…” you whispered, leaning closer, your lips brushing against his ear. “I wanna make you feel good too… Please? Let me do it, my love.”

Kento's eyes fluttered closed for a moment, a low groan rumbling deep in his chest. His hand moved to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip with a tenderness that seemed almost at odds with the raw hunger in his gaze. "

Y-yes, darling.” he managed, his voice husky, barely more than a breath. "God, yes…"

Your hand moved with more confidence now, your touch firmer, more assured, as you began to stroke him with purpose. The sounds he made were intoxicating, each moan and gasp made it clear how much your husband wanted you, how much he needed this—needed you to make love to him like this.

He was losing himself to you, the sensations overwhelming, his control slipping with every passing second. His hands gripped the sheets, his head falling back against the pillow as he let out a shuddering breath, surrendering to the waves of pleasure building within him. And you, watching him, feeling the power in this moment, couldn’t help but smile, knowing that today was just for the two of you.

You felt a surge of satisfaction as Kento's breath drastically quickened, his chest rising and falling with each labored inhale. The way his body reacted to your touch was a language all its own—one of trust, of need, of a desire so deep it seemed to consume the very air around you.

His hand on your cheek trembled slightly, his thumb brushing against your lips as if seeking some form of grounding, but even that small movement betrayed his growing desperation. He likes intimacy, your husband. He loves keeping you close. Touching you. You were as enthralled with the warmth of affection that was born from the touch of someone you loved.

Slowly, you leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to his palm, and then another to the inside of his wrist. Your lips trailed gentle, teasing kisses up his arm as your hand continued its steady rhythm, squeezing and stroking him with a tenderness that left him breathless. Each kiss felt like a promise, a whispered assurance that you were there with him, fully, completely, in this moment.

“Kento, my love…..” you breathed against his skin, your voice barely a whisper. “You feel so good in my hands…”

He groaned at your words, his head turning to the side, eyes squeezing shut as if trying to hold on to his composure, but he was losing that battle with every touch, every caress. "I—" he began, his voice hoarse. "I don't… know how much longer I can…"

His sentence dissolved into another low moan as your thumb swept over the tip of his length, spreading the bead of moisture that had formed there, your fingers wrapping around him tighter.

You could see the conflict in his eyes when he opened them again, a mix of desire and restraint, but that restraint was crumbling, fraying at the edges as you continued to stroke him, your movements steady, determined. He bit his lip, trying to hold back, trying to keep some semblance of control, but the way his hips bucked against your hand betrayed him.

“Let go, Kento.” you whispered, your lips now hovering just above his. “Let me see you fall apart for me… Let me feel you, my love.”

His breath hitched, a shiver running down his spine at your words. He let out a shuddering sigh, his fingers threading through your hair, pulling you closer as if he needed to anchor himself to you.

“I… I can’t… hold back, darling.” he muttered, his voice rough, filled with a kind of raw honesty that made your heart skip a beat.

You smiled, a soft, knowing smile, and pressed your lips against his, capturing his mouth in a slow, heated kiss. Your hand continued its work, stroking him with purpose, with a rhythm that matched the racing of his heart. You felt him tense beneath you, his entire body coiling like a spring, ready to snap.

Then, with a deep, guttural groan, he finally let go. His body shuddered, a wave of pleasure crashing over him as he came, hot and thick, into your hand. His grip tightened in your hair, his kiss turning desperate, needy, as he rode out the intense waves of his release. 

You felt his body relax under your touch, his breathing gradually slowing, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. He looked at you through half-lidded eyes, a faint, lazy smile tugging at the corners of his lips, a mix of contentment and disbelief in his gaze.

"You… you always know how to make me feel alive, darling." he murmured, his voice soft, filled with a warmth that made your heart swell. 

You leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips, savoring the taste of him, the feel of him against you. “I love you, Kento. My dearest love.” you whispered, brushing a strand of hair away from his face. “And I love seeing you like this, with me.”

He chuckled softly, a sound that was rare, precious. "And I love you." he replied, pulling you closer, wrapping his arms around you. "More than I could ever say."

For hours after your little rendezvous, the two of you stayed tangled in each other’s arms, sharing quiet conversations, soft kisses, and long silences filled with nothing but the sound of your breathing. Nanami Kento held you like you were the most precious thing in the world, his fingers tracing absent patterns on your back, his gaze never leaving your face for long.

Eventually, you coaxed him out of bed with the promise of a simple breakfast. Kento resisted at first, his limbs still heavy with the sweet exhaustion of your shared intimacy, but the sound of your voice, so light and teasing, and the allure of spending a quiet morning together drew him from the warm confines of the sheets.

He followed you into the kitchen, still half-dressed, the waistband of his pajama pants hanging low on his hips, his hair more tousled than usual, the remnants of sleep and desire still lingering in his eyes.

He leaned against the doorway, watching you move with a quiet grace, your silhouette bathed in the soft morning light. You hummed a familiar tune under your breath, your hands deftly preparing the coffee with a practiced ease.

The scent of freshly ground beans filled the air, mingling with the warm rays of sunlight streaming through the window, and Kento found himself mesmerized by the sight of you. It was a simple, domestic scene, yet there was something about it that felt incredibly intimate, as if he was seeing a side of you reserved only for these quiet, stolen moments.

His heart swelled with a feeling he couldn’t quite name, a gentle ache in his chest that felt like contentment, like peace, but also something deeper, something he wasn’t used to allowing himself to feel.

His life had always been one of discipline, of carefully constructed routines meant to keep him grounded, focused. But watching you now, he realized how much he craved this—these mornings with you, the ease of your presence, the way you moved with such purpose yet without hurry.

He pushed himself off the doorway and crossed the room, coming up behind you. He slipped his arms around your waist, pulling you back against his chest, resting his chin on your shoulder.

"You always look so beautiful," he murmured, his voice still rough from sleep, his breath warm against your ear.

You laughed softly, leaning back into his embrace, your hands stilling for a moment as you savored the feel of him so close, so tender. "Kento, you're still half asleep," you teased, but your voice was gentle, affectionate.

He hummed in agreement, his lips brushing against your temple. "Maybe," he admitted, "but it doesn’t change the fact that it’s true."

You smiled, your heart fluttering at the sincerity in his voice. You turned slightly in his arms, meeting his gaze, and for a moment, everything else fell away. The world outside, with all its demands and expectations, seemed so distant, so unimportant. Here, in this small, sunlit kitchen, it was just the two of you, wrapped in a quiet bubble of contentment.

"You know, my love...." you said softly, reaching up to brush a lock of hair away from his forehead, "I love seeing you like this, too. Relaxed. Happy."

He closed his eyes for a moment, his forehead resting against yours. "I never thought I could have this, you know?" he confessed, almost as if he were speaking to himself. "I never thought I could find this kind of peace… with someone."

Your heart swelled at his words, and you cupped his cheek, your thumb brushing lightly over the stubble on his jaw. "You deserve it, Kento. You deserve every bit of happiness."

He sighed, a deep, contented sound, and kissed you softly, a lingering kiss that spoke of gratitude, of affection, of a love that was growing, deepening with every moment you spent together. When he finally pulled back, there was a softness in his eyes, a lightness in his expression that you rarely saw but cherished whenever it appeared.

“Now, about that breakfast,” he murmured, his lips curving into a small smile. “What can I do to help?”

You grinned, handing him a spoon and pointing toward the eggs on the counter. “Start with those, chef. We’re in this together.”

He chuckled, the sound warm and unguarded, and with a playful roll of his eyes, he moved to the stove, taking his place beside you. As he cracked the eggs into the pan, his movements careful yet practiced, he glanced over at you, and that unnamed feeling in his chest blossomed into something undeniably clear—he was falling for you, deeper than he ever thought he could, in the simplest and most unexpected ways.

Kento watched you with endeared eyes for a moment longer, then finally allowed himself to relax, leaning back in his chair with a contented sigh. For the first time in a long time, Nanami Kento felt like he could truly breathe. And as he sipped his coffee, he decided that maybe, just maybe, he could get used to this kind of day off — as long as it was with you.

Kento listened to you as you spoke about expanding the gardens, your voice animated with excitement as you described your vision. You wanted to add a new section for herbs and perhaps a small patch for wildflowers to attract bees and butterflies. The way your eyes lit up with each idea, each possibility, brought a soft smile to his face. He found it soothing, the way you talked about something so simple and yet so full of life.

"I’ve been thinking, my love." you continued in your sweet voice. "We could plant some lavender along the path leading up to the porch. The scent would be wonderful in the evenings. And maybe a few rose bushes along the fence — I’ve always loved roses."

Kento took another sip of his coffee, his gaze never leaving your face. "Lavender, hm?" he mused, his voice thoughtful. "That would be nice. The smell is calming. And roses… they would suit you."

You felt your cheeks warm at his words, the unexpected compliment catching you off guard. "Do you think so?" you asked, a small smile playing on your lips.

He nodded, setting his coffee down. "Yes. Roses are resilient, elegant… and they add beauty to their surroundings. Much like you."

Your smile grew, and you couldn’t help but laugh softly. "Kento, my love, you’re making me blush."

"Good." he replied, a hint of amusement in his tone. "I like seeing you like this. Happy."

You reached out, covering his hand with yours on the table. "I’m happy when I’m with you, my love." you said softly, and he felt something in his chest loosen, a tension he hadn’t realized he was holding. “Always, my love.”

Kento glanced out the window, his gaze drifting to the backyard—a blank canvas of green that stretched out before him, the morning light casting soft shadows across the lawn. He remembered the way your eyes lit up when you talked about your plans, your hands gesturing excitedly as you described the flowerbeds you wanted to plant, the small herbs you would grow, and the cozy corner where you’d place a bench for reading.

The idea had seemed whimsical to him at first—another project, another commitment in a life already filled with so many—but now, as he stood there, imagining it, he felt a strange warmth blooming in his chest. Nanami Kento thinks that he could almost taste the color, the texture. Everything.

He could almost see it: the vibrant hues of lavender and roses mingling in the sunlight, their colors bright against the backdrop of deep green leaves. The delicate petals swayed gently in a soft breeze, the air filled with their fragrant scent.

He could picture the lavender—its soft purple flowers nodding gracefully in the wind, releasing that soothing, calming fragrance he knew you loved. The roses, rich and full, would add bursts of color—reds, pinks, yellows—each bloom a testament to life, to beauty, to growth.

The thought of it was unexpectedly comforting. He imagined himself coming home after a long day, his shoulders heavy with the weight of the world, only to be greeted by the sight of your garden, a small oasis of tranquility and life. The idea of it, of having a place that was alive, that was growing—just like the two of you—appealed to him more than he’d expected.

He pictured you there, kneeling in the dirt, your hands stained with soil, a soft smile on your face as you carefully tended to the plants. He imagined the way you’d look up at him, a smudge of dirt on your cheek, your eyes bright with joy and purpose.

The image made his heart swell with a tenderness that surprised him. He saw himself joining you, hands working beside yours, digging into the earth, feeling the cool, damp soil under his fingers, the two of you creating something beautiful together.

And it wasn’t just the visual that drew him in; it was the sound—the gentle rustle of leaves in the wind, the soft hum of bees flitting from flower to flower, the occasional chirp of a bird perched nearby. He could almost hear the faint trickle of a small fountain you’d mentioned wanting to install, its soothing babble mixing with the sounds of nature. It all seemed so… peaceful, so different from the noise and chaos of his daily life.

He hadn’t realized how much he craved that peace until now, standing there, imagining the garden you would build together. A place where time slowed down, where the worries and stresses of the outside world couldn’t reach him. A place that felt like home, in every sense of the word.

Kento’s hand absently brushed against the windowsill, his fingers tracing the worn wood as he allowed himself to linger in that vision a little longer. He could almost smell the herbs you talked about planting—basil, rosemary, thyme—their aromas mingling with the fresh air, bringing a sense of calm, of warmth, of life. He imagined plucking fresh sprigs for dinner, the scent of rosemary clinging to his fingers, the earthy, familiar smell of thyme infusing the kitchen as you cooked together.

And as he stood there, he realized that it wasn’t just the idea of the garden itself that appealed to him—it was what it represented. Growth, nurturing, care. It was a symbol of the life you were building together, the way you were slowly, carefully cultivating something beautiful out of the ordinary. 

Kento’s lips curved into a small, thoughtful smile. He turned to you, watching as you moved around the kitchen, your expression content, your presence filling the room with warmth. Yes, he thought, he could almost see it—the garden, the life, the future you were both creating, one moment at a time.

And for once, the future didn’t feel daunting to him; it felt… a little bit hopeful. He felt a quiet sense of purpose settle within him, a sense that this was exactly where he was meant to be, with you, dreaming of lavender and roses.

"I could help you with it, darling." he offered, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. "On weekends or when I have time. I know you like gardening, but some of the work might be too much for one person."

You beamed at him, your eyes sparkling with gratitude. "I’d love that, my love." you replied. "It would be fun, wouldn’t it? Working on it together?"

"Fun…." Nanami repeated, considering the word. "Yes… I suppose it would be. Life is fun with you."

You blinked at his words. And then you burst into warm giggles, your cheeks rosy red. He realized then that this was what he’d been missing — not just a break from work, but a sense of purpose beyond his duties as a sorcerer. A chance to build something with you, to create a space where you both could feel at peace. The idea of nurturing something, watching it grow, appealed to him in a way he hadn’t anticipated.

"And, oh! My love, maybe…." you added with a playful grin. "Maybe we can add a bench under the oak tree, so you have a spot to read while I fuss over the flowers."

Nanami chuckled softly, the sound warm and genuine. "A bench sounds good, my darling." he agreed. "And I’d like to see you fuss over the flowers."

Your laughter filled the kitchen, light and joyful, and he found himself smiling, genuinely smiling, more than he had in weeks. As you continued to share your ideas over breakfast, Nanami Kento felt something shift within him — a gentle, comforting realization that these moments, these simple, quiet days spent with you, were what he truly needed.

He didn’t need excitement or adventure. He didn’t need a life filled with constant battles and endless challenges. He needed this: mornings filled with coffee and conversation, afternoons spent planning gardens, evenings under the stars. He needed you.

"Alright, alright…." he said finally, setting his mug down with a decisive nod. "Let's expand the garden. Lavender, roses, herbs… all of it."

Your face lit up with joy, and you leaned across the table to kiss him, your lips soft against his. "Thank you, my love." you whispered, your smile bright and warm. "I think it’s going to be beautiful."

He kissed you back, his hand cradling your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin. "It already is." he replied softly, knowing that as long as you were there, it always would be.

YOU WERE EXHAUSTED BY THE END OF IT. After washing up together, enjoying a little more romance in each other’s arms in the bathroom — you finally gently persuaded Nanami to join you on the couch.

You draped a soft, cozy blanket over both of you, and he settled in beside you, his arm naturally finding its place around your shoulders. The morning light filtering through the curtains added a warm glow to the room, and for a moment, everything felt perfectly calm and serene.

You nestled into his side, feeling his steady heartbeat against you, and began to talk about something that had been on your mind lately. “You know, my love….” you started, your voice filled with excitement, “I’ve been thinking about my recent book and my agent said that there’s a possibility that it might be adapted into a television show.”

Nanami turned his head slightly to look at you, his expression curious but attentive. “A television show?” he asked, raising an eyebrow with a small grin on his lips. “That’s great, darling. Though, I have to say — isn’t this quite a leap from a book. How did that come about?”

You smiled, your eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “I was told to keep quiet for a while, but now that things are going on, it’s something I can spoil.”

He grinned deeper. “Oh? You’re willing to let someone hear a very, very important secret?”

“Uh–uh. Don’t tell my agent though. She’ll kill me!”

“Alright, my darling. I promise.” He whispers against your tender skin. “Tell me.”

“So, I’ve been in touch with a producer who’s interested in the story. They think it has potential and want to explore it further. It’s still in the early stages, but the idea of seeing my characters and world come to life on screen is so thrilling.”

“That’s incredible, my darling.” Nanami said, a genuine smile touching his lips. “You must be very excited.”

“I am, my love.” you admitted, leaning closer to him. “But I’m also a little nervous. It’s one thing to write a book and have people imagine it, seeing it visualized… Like you said, that’s a whole different thing. I’m worried about how it will turn out, if it will capture the essence of the story.”

Nanami’s hand gently rubbed your arm, his touch soothing. “I understand, my darling,” he said softly. “But remember, the essence of the story is in your writing. No matter how it’s adapted, that core will come through as long as it stays true to what you wrote. And from what I’ve read of your new work, I do believe it will be quite huge if it happens.”

Your smile widened at his reassurance. “You really think so?”

“Absolutely.” he replied with conviction. “And if it’s something you’re passionate about, I’m sure it will resonate with others too. You’ve always had a way with words, and that won’t change just because it’s on screen. You’re such a great writer, after all.”

You felt a wave of relief wash over you, comforted by his unwavering support. “Thank you, My love. It means a lot to hear that.”

He looked at you with a tenderness that made your heart flutter. “I’m proud of you, you know. Not just for your book, but for taking this step. It’s a big deal, and you’re handling it amazingly. You’re just brilliant, my love.”

You snuggled closer, feeling a deep sense of contentment. Your cheeks turn brighter, as though a scarlet sunrise appeared before Kento. He smiles at how beautiful you look like this in front of him. But in truth, you always were. You always will be. 

“I wouldn’t have gotten this far without you, though. Your encouragement and belief in me have made a huge difference, my love.”

Nanami’s arm tightened around you, pulling you even closer. “I’m always here for you. And I can’t wait to see where this journey takes you.”

You sighed contentedly, resting your head against his shoulder. “I’m glad to have you by my side, my love. Even with all the uncertainties, having you here makes everything feel more manageable.”

He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “We’ll face whatever comes together always, my darling.” he said softly. “And I’m looking forward to seeing your blossoming in what you love to do, hm?”

You both fell into a comfortable silence, the kind that spoke volumes without needing words. Wrapped in the blanket, with Nanami’s steady presence beside you, you felt a profound sense of peace. As you continued to discuss your book and the exciting possibilities ahead, you realized that this moment, this calm and cozy morning together, was just as significant as any big event.

For now, you were content to savor the simple joy of being with him, sharing your dreams and plans, and feeling grateful for the love and support that made everything seem just a little brighter.

After all, there was still that warm morning sun filtering through the windows, casting a soft, golden glow across the room. As though this is where the sun was. This was the center of the world. Just the two of you. The light seemed to weave through the sheer curtains, bathing everything in a warm, almost ethereal hue. It was the kind of light that made ordinary moments feel magical, turning the mundane into something beautifully serene.

As Nanami Kento leaned back into the cushions of the couch, he pulled you closer, and you felt the comforting weight of his arm around you. Your head naturally found its place against his shoulder, the fabric of his shirt warm and soft beneath your cheek. It felt almost like a dream — this rare, quiet intimacy with him, where the usual world of responsibilities and chaos seemed to dissolve into the background.

The stillness of the peaceful life, punctuated only by the gentle hum of the house and the distant chirping of birds outside, created a cocoon of peace around you both. Kento’s own steady breathing was rhythmic and soothing, like a comforting lullaby that made you feel utterly secure. His presence, so close and protective, wrapped you in a sense of calm that you seldom experienced.

In this tranquil moment, you could almost forget the outside world. The usual pressures and expectations faded away, leaving just the two of you and the simple pleasure of being together. The sun’s soft light created patterns on the walls and floors, dancing with the shadows in a way that made everything feel tender and intimate.

Nanami’s body radiates warmth, his heartbeat a steady and reassuring rhythm against you. His fingers lightly traced patterns on your arm, a gesture so gentle it felt like a silent promise of his unwavering support and affection. You could feel his heart beating steadily, a constant reminder that, in this moment, everything was right.

This rare, quiet intimacy with him was a sanctuary from the world outside. It was a space where time seemed to slow down, allowing you both to savor the closeness and the simple joy of each other’s company. Kento’s presence was and always will be your grounding force, anchoring you in this serene bubble where nothing else mattered but the connection you shared.

You closed your eyes, letting yourself sink deeper into the comfort of his embrace. The soft glow of the morning sun, the warmth of his body, and the gentle rise and fall of his chest created a sense of contentment that was both profound and delicate. It was a reminder that amidst the chaos of life, there were these precious moments of calm and connection that made everything else seem secondary.

In the quiet of the room, the warmth of your bodies began enveloping you both. And for a moment, you pray to any god out there. Because this life you’d built with Kento, it was everything. And all you had in you was this feeling of overwhelming gratitude. That you found each other. That you had each other. That you belong to each other for the rest of time. 

You like to think that one of these moments was worth living for. In these moments, so simple yet so significant, that you found true happiness. This is what your mother meant when she said that true love exists, that happiness was so simple and yet was boundless as the seas. Kento was your love, and he was your happiness. 

And you would be happy to be nothing but with him. You’d gladly stay in this bubble, this little planet of your own, this never–ending galaxy of love. The world outside could wait; for now, you were content to bask in the peaceful intimacy of the morning, savoring the rare and precious gift of being together.

You shifted slightly, feeling the soft, steady rise and fall of Nanami’s chest as you nestled closer. The warmth of his presence was soothing, and you took a deep breath, enjoying the tranquility of the moment. There was a brief pause, filled only with the soft sounds of the house and the gentle hum of the morning. Nanami’s arm tightened slightly around you, pulling you closer.

“Do you think, my darling,” he asked after a moment, his voice thoughtful, “that we’ll look back on this day and remember it as one of those rare, perfect moments?”

You nuzzled against him, feeling his warmth envelop you. “I hope so. It feels perfect to me right now.”

Kento’s smile grew, a look of contentment on his face. “Then it’s perfect. And it’s a memory I’ll cherish.”

You both fell into a comfortable silence once more, savoring the peaceful intimacy of the moment. With Nanami’s arm around you and the morning sun casting its gentle glow over the room, you felt a profound sense of contentment, knowing that these shared moments were the true treasures of life.

"Are you sure you don’t have somewhere you’d rather be?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, still trying to process the calm of the moment. 

Nanami turned his head slightly, his gaze meeting yours with a gentle intensity. "There’s nowhere else I’d rather be," he said firmly. "And no one else I’d rather be with."

You felt your heart flutter at his words, the sincerity behind them so very Nanami — direct and without pretense. It wasn’t often that he voiced his emotions so openly, but today felt different. Today, it was as if he was allowing himself to be just a man, rather than a jujutsu sorcerer bound by duty. 

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer, his fingers drawing small circles on your arm. “Tell me, darling…” he murmured after a while. “What would you do on a day like this if you had no obligations?”

You smiled, tilting your head to look up at him. “Hmm, I’d probably spend it just like this… with you. Maybe we could go for a walk later or cook dinner together. Nothing extravagant, just… simple things.”

Nanami’s lips curved into the smallest smile. “Simple things, huh?” he echoed. “I like the sound of that.”

You felt a warm, comforting sense of happiness settle over you. “We could read a book, or just stay here and talk. We don’t get to do that often enough, I think. We’re just both busy most of the time.”

Nanami hummed in agreement, his hand gently stroking your hair. “Talking with you is easy, darling.” he confessed quietly. “Not a dull conversation with you. Everything’s just….extraordinary even in the ordinary.”

His words made your heart swell with affection. “I’m glad, my love.” you whispered, your fingers playing with the edge of his shirt. “You make everything feel like that too, you know? Even the quiet feels meaningful when I’m with you.”

He pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head, his breath warm against your skin. “Then let’s stay like this more often, hm?” he murmured, his voice a low rumble against your ear. “Let’s stay here and let the world move around us for a change.”

You nodded, settling into the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, letting it lull you into a calm you rarely felt. For hours, you stayed wrapped up together, sharing thoughts, stories, and soft laughter that came naturally in the stillness of the day. 

Eventually, the light began to change, the afternoon sun casting longer shadows across the room. You felt Nanami shift slightly, his fingers still tracing patterns on your skin, a small smile on his lips. 

“Do you know what I’ve been thinking?” he asked, his tone contemplative. 

“What’s that?”

He hesitated, as if choosing his words carefully. “I’ve been thinking… Maybe I should take days like this more often. Days where I don’t think about anything but being with you. I think I’ve forgotten how important that is.”

Your heart swelled at his admission, and you reached up to cup his cheek, your thumb brushing over his skin. “You deserve that, Kento. You deserve to rest, to enjoy life outside of work.”

He leaned into your touch, his eyes closing for a moment. “And I think I’ve finally realized that, dearest darling.” he whispered. “You make me realize it. I’m grateful for you.”

You smiled softly, leaning in to press a tender kiss to his lips, feeling the gentle press of his hand against your back as he deepened the kiss. It was slow, languid, like the day itself — a promise that you both had all the time in the world.

When you pulled back, you saw something in his eyes that made your breath catch — a deep, abiding love that went beyond words. He didn’t need to say anything else. He just held you a little tighter, as if anchoring himself to this moment, to you.

“Let’s make dinner together, my love.” you suggested softly, breaking the silence.

Nanami nodded, his expression softening. “I’d like that, darling.” he replied. “And after that… maybe we can sit on the porch and watch the stars come out.”

You grinned. “I’d like that, too.”

As the day turned into evening, you and Kento moved to the kitchen together, the transition from a tranquil morning to a lively afternoon marking a subtle change in the atmosphere.

The kitchen was filled with the sounds of cooking — the steady rhythm of chopping vegetables, the bubbling of boiling pasta, and the occasional sizzle from the stovetop. The air was rich with the aroma of garlic and herbs, mingling with the comforting scent of fresh pasta.

You laughed over small things: a particularly stubborn piece of garlic that wouldn’t mince properly, a splash of water that nearly escaped from the pot, and the playful banter that came naturally as you worked side by side.

Your Kento's laughter, light and genuine, was a sound you cherished. It was a rare and beautiful contrast to the usual seriousness of his days. Seeing him so relaxed, so free from the weight of his responsibilities, made your heart swell with happiness.

Amidst the perpetual chaos in your kitchen, Kento walked over to the record player that sat in the corner of the kitchen. With a practiced hand, he carefully selected a vinyl and set it spinning.

The entire facet of the room was soon filled with the smooth, nostalgic tones of Paul Anka’s “Put Your Head on My Shoulder.” You gasp, knowing what this means. Almsot immediately, the soft, romantic melody seemed to wrap around the room, adding a layer of intimacy to the evening.

As the first notes of the song drifted through the air, your husband glanced over at you with a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. He approached you, a playful smile on his lips. You couldn't help but shake your head bashfully as you smile back at him.

“I think this song calls for a dance, dearest darling.” he said, his voice gentle but insistent.

You looked at him, momentarily distracted from the task at hand. “A dance?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow in mock surprise. “While we’re cooking?”

Kento nodded, extending his hand toward you. “Why not? We can take a break. Besides, it’s a perfect song for it.”

With a laugh, you wiped your hands on a kitchen towel and allowed him to pull you gently away from the sink. The soft, inviting melody seemed to dissolve any lingering tension in the room, and you found yourself happily giving in to the spontaneous moment.

Your husband guided you to the center of the kitchen, the vinyl's music creating a romantic backdrop to the simple joy of dancing. He took your hand in his, his touch warm and reassuring. You rested your head against his shoulder, your body swaying gently to the rhythm of the song. His other hand rested comfortably on your waist, guiding your movements with a gentle precision that spoke of both affection and ease.

You felt a rush of giggles bubble up as Nanami’s hand found your back, pulling you closer. The softness of his embrace, combined with the slow, tender rhythm of the song, made you feel like you were the only two people in the world. The kitchen, with its cluttered countertops and simmering pots, seemed to fade into the background, replaced by the simple joy of being in his arms.

Your Kento's laughter joined yours, a warm, melodic sound that perfectly matched the mood of the evening. He spun you around gently, his gaze never leaving yours, and you felt a sense of pure contentment. The day had transformed from a series of routine tasks into a memorable, heartwarming experience.

As the song continued, you both danced slowly, savoring the moment. The gentle sway, the closeness, and the music created a cocoon of happiness that enveloped you both. It was a reminder that even in the midst of everyday chores, there could be magic and joy — a simple dance, a shared smile, and the warmth of each other’s company.

When the song finally ended, Nanami held you close for a moment longer, his hands resting lightly on your back. He looked down at you with a smile that spoke of deep affection and satisfaction.

“That was nice, wasn't it?” he said softly, his voice filled with warmth.

“It was perfect, my love.” you replied, your heart full. “Thank you for making this evening special.”

Kento's smile widened, and he gave you a gentle kiss on the forehead. “Anytime, my darling.” he said. “It’s these little moments that make everything worthwhile.”

You both returned to the kitchen, the mood light and cheerful, ready to finish preparing dinner with renewed energy. The dance, though brief, had added a touch of magic to your day, a reminder that the simplest of moments could bring the greatest joy.

Later, as evening gently gave way to night, you found yourselves on the porch, wrapped in a soft, cozy blanket that covered you both from shoulders to toes. The air had cooled, carrying with it the faint scents of twilight and the promise of a peaceful night. The porch, usually a simple space, felt transformed into a haven of comfort and tranquility.

The sky was gradually darkening, and you could see the first stars beginning to appear, twinkling faintly against the deepening blue canvas. It was a stunning sight, the stars emerging one by one, like tiny, distant fires illuminating the vast expanse of the universe. The beauty of it was mesmerizing, and it added a sense of magic to the evening.

You leaned into your husband's own body. feeling his warmth and presence next to you. His arm was draped around your shoulders, holding you close in a way that felt both protective and tender. His hand clasped yours, fingers intertwined in a gentle embrace that spoke volumes without the need for words. The connection between you was palpable, a shared sense of contentment and peace.

As you both gazed up at the sky, the stars slowly becoming more prominent, a comfortable silence enveloped you. The occasional rustle of the wind through the trees, the distant chirping of crickets, and the soft hum of nighttime created a serene backdrop, enhancing the feeling of closeness and intimacy.

You turned your head slightly, catching Nanami’s profile illuminated by the soft glow of the porch light. His face was relaxed, his eyes reflecting the starlight, and there was a contented smile on his lips. It was in these quiet moments that you could see a side of him that was often hidden behind his usual composure — a side that was just as relaxed and at ease as you felt.

“It’s beautiful out here.” you said softly, your voice barely more than a whisper, as if speaking too loudly might break the spell of the evening. “It’s just so clear tonight.”

Nanami nodded, his thumb gently stroking the back of your hand. “It is. I’ve always enjoyed moments like these. The simplicity of it, the quiet.”

You sighed contentedly, the comfort of the blanket, the warmth of his embrace, and the beauty of the night sky all coming together to create a perfect sense of peace. “It’s perfect, isn’t it?” you said, your voice filled with heartfelt emotion. “It feels like everything is just as it should be.”

He turned his head slightly, his gaze meeting yours with a softness that made your heart flutter. “I feel the same way, my darling.” he replied, his voice tender. “It’s everything.”

As you both continued to watch the stars, you felt a profound sense of gratitude. It was in these quiet, shared moments that you found a deep connection, a shared understanding that transcended words. The stars above seemed to mirror the feelings in your heart — a sense of wonder, love, and perfect contentment.

The world outside, with all its complexities and challenges, felt distant and irrelevant in the face of this serene, intimate evening. Here, on the porch with your beloved husband by your side, wrapped in the warmth of the blanket and the comfort of each other’s presence, everything seemed to align perfectly.

For a moment, it felt like time had stopped, allowing you to savor the simplicity and beauty of the moment. With your beloved Kento’s hand in yours and the night sky stretching out above, you felt that everything was exactly as it was meant to be, and it was perfect. Nothing could ever get better than being with him. Nothing.

“Thank you, my darling.” he whispered suddenly, his voice barely more than a breath against the night.

“For what, my love?” you asked, tilting your head to look up at him.

“For reminding me that there’s more to life than just work, even if it’s just one day.” Kento replied, face tender with a smile. “For reminding me that… this is enough. You are enough.”

You leaned into him, your heart full. “You’re enough for me too, my love. My dearest beloved Kento.”

[zarvasace]

Description and a bit more info under the cut. 

A series of green, blue, and red graphics using a nice sans serif font and a Zelda display serif font with white and gold as accents. 

First picture. 2024 Linked Universe Fandom AO3 Wrapped, presented by Mina, @zarvasace. (That's me!) 

As a fandom, we wrote 2,273 fics in 2024

That's over 6 a day every day this year! 

In smaller text below: Counting only fics tagged with “Linked Universe (Legend of Zelda)” on AO3. Counting all fics last updated from Jan 1, 2024 to Dec 31, 2024. Data pulled by hand on Jan 1, 2024 at ~2:00 AM GMT-7. 

Next picture. Our favorite tags this year were:

1, Hurt/Comfort with 432 tags

2, Fluff with 352 tags

3, Angst with 335 tags 

4, Not Beta Read with 260 tags. Here there is also a brief exchange in two handwriting styles. One arrow points to this tag with the remark, “perfectionists, much?” Another cursive hand replies “Be nice.” to which the first says, “no”

5, Legend-centric with 251 tags

At the bottom of this image is a piece of parchment. The scratchier handwriting says, “Ha, I'm the favorite. Take that.” and the curlier handwriting replies “Not so fast, Ledge… we aren't done yet.”

Next picture. Favorite tags continued:

6, Blood and Injury with 230 tags

7, Wild-centric with 204 tags 

8, Whump with 215 tags 

9, Emotional Hurt/Comfort with 181 tags

10, Good Older Sibling Warriors with 163 tags. Legend's handwriting says “Din give me strength—” to that. 

Section break, and a bit more: An average of 7.46% fics every month were tagged Whump. Except October, which saw a spike to 29.5%.

Next picture. Our favorite Links. This info is presented in a table, with names on the left and number of tags on the right, organized from most to least. 

Warriors, 1408 (his handwriting says: HA!! I won something!)

Legend, 1398 (his handwriting says: BY TEN.)

Twilight, 1371

Time, 1323

Wild, 1217

Hyrule, 1151

Wind, 1143

Sky, 1137

Four, 1027

At the bottom is another piece of parchment. Legend says: “JUST TEN.” Warriors says: “Jealous?” Legend replies: “I don't know if being the favorite is a good thing.”

Next picture. Our favorite secondary characters were Malon (176 tags) and Racio (160 tags)

Section break. and the most popular pairings were Malon/Time (161 tags), Legend/Racio (89 tags*), Sky/Sun (66 tags).

At the bottom is the asterisk footnote: it's no secret that our fandom tags are a little wonky sometimes. This number adds together the works tagged “Legend (Linked Universe)/Ravio” and “Link/Ravio” where the work was also tagged “Linked Universe,” assuming that people would only tag one. 

Next picture. 2024’s longest fic was: This is an Adjuration by @not-freyja (linked below). 

Editor’s note: linked here!

With a total of 312,547 words. That's almost 971 a day! 

Began July 14, 2023, Finished May 30, 2024. 

Screenshot of the tag summary from AO3, showing a Mature rating, Gen, an archive warning, and complete. 

Significant tags: Time Travel, the Chain as Family, Time Loop, Multiversal Time Travel, Temporal War Crimes, Chain Meets Chain, Chronically Ill Sky, Four Splits Into the Colors, Fairy Hyrule, Hyrule Has a Blood Curse. 

At the bottom, Legend’s writing says: “That sounds like a lot of time travel…”

Next four pictures are a set titled Fandom Trends by month. Each month has, in order, a Popular Link, Popular Duos, Popular Genre, and Unique Tags, along with occasional handwritten commentary. 

January: Twilight. Twilight & Wild. Hurt/Comfort. Crack, Soft Legend. Commentary: Warriors says “aww.” and Legend responds “I'm going to poison your milk.” 

February: Warriors. Twilight & Wild, Twilight & Warriors, Legend & Warriors. Angst. Febuwhump 2024. 

March: Twilight. Twilight & Wild, Time & Twilight. Fluff. One Shot, Linked Universe Discord Server’s 5th Birthday Gift Exchange.

April: Legend. Twilight & Wild, Twilight and Warriors. (Commentary from Legend: “wow Twi”) Fluff. Humor, Canon-Typical Violence.

May: Twilight, Warriors. Hyrule & Legend, Twilight & Wild. (Commentary from Legend, circling Hyrule’s name: “Finally some good taste.”) Fluff. Other Additional Tags to be Added. 

June: Twilight. Twilight & Wild, Time & Warriors. Hurt/Comfort. June of Doom 2024, Sky-centric, Twilight-centric. (Commentary from Warriors: “Wait, doom?! Oh, there's Sky”)

Editor's note: congratulations to @somer-writes who singlehandedly got June of Doom in the top 10 tags of June. :)

July: Warriors. Hyrule & Legend, Time & Twilight. Hurt/Comfort. Twilight-centric. (Commentary from Legend: “leave some for the rest of us”)

August: Legend. Hyrule & Legend, Legend & Warriors, Time & Twilight. Hurt/Comfort. Crack, Fluff and Angst. (Commentary from Warriors: “I'm concerned.”)

September: Legend. Time & Twilight, Twilight & Wild. Hurt/Comfort. Sicktember 2024, Legend Has a Bad Time. (Commentary from Legend: “Excuse me?!” Warriors says: “I suppose your immune system is awful now.” Legend responds with: “ha ha.”)

October: Warriors. Time & Twilight, Time & Warriors. Hurt/Comfort. Whumptober 2024, Warriors Has a Bad Time. (Commentary from Warriors: “oh no…” To which Legend responds: “HAHAHAHAH”) 

November: Warriors. Time & Warriors, Hyrule & Legend. Fluff. Crack, Good Older Sibling Warriors.

December: Legend. Hyrule & Legend, Twilight & Wild, Warriors & Wind. Hurt/Comfort. Families of Choice. 

Parchment at the bottom has Warriors saying, “That's a nice note to end on.” Legend responds, “Not so bad I guess.” 

Thanks for coming along with me on this fun stats journey! It's been a privilege to add to this fandom. 

I thought about adding a section for ratings or prevalence of Gen fics, but I think you can guess that we’re a Gen- and Teen-heavy fandom. You can see my raw data and some more charts over on the Google sheet right at this link. Ha, link. :) 

[ultraintrovertedgryffindor]

𝐁𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐋𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐓𝐨 𝐓𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐞

this fuckin Esquire photoshoot has me so feral istg

Summary: You were Helaena's best friend, but her brothers were more than a little interested in you.

Warnings: Modern!AU, mutual pining, tension, angst, eventual fluff, hurt/comfort, slight whump, brief descriptions of domestic violence (from a Lannister), SMUT (MINORS DNI), wet dreams, masturbation, threesome (M/M/F), oral (f and m receiving), praise kink, fingering, p in v sex, anal sex, double penetration, spitroast, and multiple creampies

word count | 7.6k🤙🏻

It had been a couple years since you and Helaena Targaryen became best friends. You both met at university, sharing multiple classes and you just clicked, having similar interests and sharing the same sense of humor. It wasn’t long before she had invited you over for a family night at their estate, meeting most of the family, along with her brothers. 

At first, Aemond didn’t really pay you any mind. He was withdrawn, cautious, even a bit suspicious, as he usually was, though he appreciated that you must’ve been a good friend to his sister. Helaena was never the best at making friends, considered odd to most, so it was a shock to everyone when she said she was bringing her best friend over for a couple nights. You seemed pretty shy yourself, so Aemond made no effort into getting to know you, besides keeping an eye on you to make sure you didn’t cross any lines. Though, that changed after a while.

It took him a few months to start warming up to you, and even then he still wasn’t comfortable being left alone with you. You weren’t quite past the small talk stage, and Aemond absolutely despised small talk, though he was never one to have deep conversations with borderline strangers either. Helaena kept trying to convince him to talk to you sometime, stating how wonderful you were to her and how you’d be a wonderful friend to him as well. So, only for his sister, Aemond started trying to get to know you.

After another couple months, Aemond cursed himself for not trying to get to know you sooner. You were very pleasant to be around, you were kind like Helaena, thoughtful and above all, could keep up with his talks about philosophy. You had very strong opinions, a better word would be convictions. He’d never admit to it, but Aemond admired your sense of justice and how you thought the world should be, even if there were certain aspects of your opinions he’d never believe himself. You listened to him when no one else would, spoke plainly when anybody else besides his family would be too afraid to. It wasn’t long before he gained feelings for you, even though he knew he shouldn’t have. It was hard not to, with you being around almost all the time. Though, that came with another problem.

Aegon.

Though completely different to his brother in almost every way, Aegon did share some similarities with Aemond. When you first arrived with Helaena, Aegon was indifferent. He cared about his family no matter how much he tried not to, so any outsider always put him on edge. But whereas Aemond would be completely withdrawn and prefer to observe, Aegon would be the opposite, trying to talk to you any chance he got, trying to figure out what your game was, if you had any malicious intent with his sister. It was infuriated when he couldn’t find any flaw, any hint that you may have been using them. He cornered you that first night, putting on his favorite mask to try to overwhelm you with accusatory questions.

And despite all of Aegon’s antics, he never scared you away and you never faltered. He got a lashing from Helaena afterwards though, accusing him of trying to scare away her only friend. He rolled his eyes at that comment, he was just trying to see if you were good enough for his sister, that’s all.

Aegon kept an eye on you every time you’d come over, making sure you didn’t nick something from the family. Helaena told him you weren’t like that, not like the company he kept sometimes. Aegon never had a single friend that didn’t try to steal something or ask for money, all of his “friends” were just using him. So maybe he was projecting a little, but he told himself he was just being safe.

To Aegon’s surprise, you had turned the tables on him, cornering him in his own home, asking what his problem was. Truth be told, Aegon was just scared, scared of another person coming into their home just to use them for their money and status to just discard them when they were done. He was more than a little paranoid, he was traumatized. Most of the time, it was Aegon’s fault something was stolen from them. He trusted people too easily, made too many best friends with the wrong people. His own mother threatened to kick him out if he didn’t stop making mistakes; so he quit making mistakes. He wasn’t going to let you be another mistake, even if it would be Helaena making it and not him. He had a feeling he’d be blamed for it anyway, as he often was when something went wrong. He was tired of being the scapegoat, and he hated you for coming there and threatening to undo all his progress.

But you weren’t there to unroot his progress, or take anything from anyone, you just loved being Helaena’s friend; and you wanted to be friends with her siblings as well. And Aegon slowly started to realize that. It took him a while, but he started to see you as you truly were: Helaena’s best friend, close like sisters, looking out for one another. Like Aemond, Aegon hated that he didn’t believe his sister’s kind words about you. He was so afraid of making the same mistakes, he made a completely different one, missing out of being your friend as well. Aegon quickly tried to make up for the lost time, but thankfully, you were happy to spend time getting to know him as well.

Like his younger brother, Aegon started to fall for you too, though neither of them realized it yet.

They were fucked.

Aemond woke with a start, a cold sweat coating his entire body. He groaned as he felt the stickiness between his legs, knowing what must’ve happened, if his dreams were anything to go by.

He angrily kicked the blankets off of himself, feeling hot even though it was the middle of winter, storming to the bathroom to take a cold shower. He was embarrassed, he hadn’t had a wet dream since he was a teenager. He had so much control over himself for the longest time, so this felt like a slight to his own body. He needed to get laid, badly. It wasn’t for lack of options, Aemond knew he could get any woman into bed with him, there was just a very specific person he had in mind.

Helaena told him that you would be joining them for the holidays, your own family not doing anything to celebrate, so they didn’t mind you going tagging along, and Helaena was more than excited to get you all to herself during the festivities. Though, Aemond had plans to get you alone more than once over the course of the weekend. But what he didn’t know is Aegon was planning the exact same thing.

Aemond tore off all his sheets, bringing them to the washer, annoyed to find Aegon nearby. “Aw, did little brother have a wee accident? Did the little Aemy wet the bed? Mate, are you five?” Aemond glared at his older brother, if only looks could kill. Slowly, Aegon realized, much to Aemond’s horror. “Oh, nah, you creamed the bed!” He guffawed, almost doubling over from the force of his laughter.

“Shut the fuck up or I’ll tell mum you’re using again.”

“But I’m not!”

“And do you really think she’d believe you over me?” That shut Aegon up…briefly.

“So…does this little sticky situation have anything to do with her coming over for the holiday?”

Aemond narrowed his eyes at Aegon, tensing and balling his fist, ready to punch his brother’s perfect teeth in. “What makes you ask that?”

Aegon giggled, backing away slightly, having been on the end of one of Aemond’s punches too many times to count. “Come on, little brother. The way you reacted when Helaena told everyone she’d be coming over, it was like Christmas came early…and so did you, apparently.”

“You fuckin’ twat!” Aemond tried to shove Aegon, but he dodged too quickly.

“It’s alright, brother, I’ll take her off your hands if you can’t keep the little guys in!” Aegon giggled as he ran away, throwing a mischievous smile over his shoulder.

Pfft, as if…Aemond sneered.

Besides Helaena, Aemond was the first to greet you as you exited the cab that drove you to their estate and you appreciated the modest welcome.

When you met Helaena, you had no idea her family was so…well endowed, so to speak. From her manners and how she spent her money, you’d think her family was more like yours, so you can imagine how shocked you were when you were invited to her family home for the first time, pulling up to a mansion on a huge chunk of land. It was like stepping into a fairytale. But most of the family you met was surprisingly humble. 

You were nervous about meeting her brothers, but Helaena assured you that they’d warm up to you eventually, they just had trust issues. And that they did, Daeron was no issue, considering he was studying abroad and rarely ever made it home for holidays. Aemond and Aegon, however, it was a race to see who’d warm up to you the fastest. It shocked you to see that the younger brother became friends with you first. It was very passive and slow, his opening up to you. You could tell he didn’t give information freely, and you would never be able to coax it out of him. He was like a cat, he’d come to you when and if he wanted. And when you finally gained his trust, he was like an open book. You never flinched when he showed you what was underneath his eyepatch, you thought he was beautiful and you told him so. He cried, and you held him. You liked to read together, discuss politics and human rights. You felt connected to him deeply, and you started to care about him as much as Helaena.

With Aegon, it was completely different.

When you first met Aegon, he was all over you, trying to find out all about you immediately, to the point you thought he was hitting on you. He was known for his promiscuity at the university you all went to after all, even when the campus was large, word liked to travel fast. But turns out, he wasn’t into you at all, just making sure you were “safe,” as Helaena worded it. It went on for months, feeling like you were being watched whenever you hung out with the Helaena. You were finally sick of it, confronting Aegon and telling him off without being too disrespectful. You thought you broke him for a moment, him just staring at you for the longest time but before you could turn to leave, he grabbed your wrist, quickly explaining himself, stating that he really only wanted to protect his family. He apologized for making you uncomfortable and that it’ll never happen again.

You forgave Aegon, and the two of you became fast friends. Soon, you started to hang out with all of them at the same time, but you had to remember you were Helaena’s friend first. She would always come first…even when you started to harbor crushes on her brothers. 

You knew it was wrong, but you couldn’t help it. You weren’t the most sought after person in the world, you didn’t really know what it was like to have people vie for your attention, so these two boys sent your brain into an overload. They seemed to constantly compete for your attention, to the point you thought your feelings may have been requited for either of them. But how would that even work? You often laughed humorlessly at yourself, what a fool you must be to crush on two men at once. But you did, and you hated yourself for it. So spending a whole holiday with them would be challenging.

“Welcome, welcome, welcome!” Helaena took you in her arms excitedly, a surprising strength making your breath escape your lungs.

“Crushing…lungs…” You heaved, giggling breathlessly when she finally let you go.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m just so happy you’re here. Aemond too, right Aemy?” She tugged on her younger brother’s leather jacket sleeve, an unperceivable smile decorating his lips, one only someone close to him could notice, and notice you did. “It’s felt like forever since you’ve been able to come over.”

“That it has.” Aemond added, taking your hand and placing a soft kiss to your knuckles, making you blush.

“Ever the gentleman, eh?” You tried laughing off your flustered state, pulling him into a hug, smelling his amazing cologne that always made you want to bite him. He held you close, the cold crisp air of the winter months barely noticeable with how warm he was against you. You shivered when he let you go, his warmth leaving all too quickly. “Freezing, let’s head inside, shall we?”

The Targaryens weren’t much of a hugging family, but Aegon was, and he gave you a hug that almost put Helaena and Aemond’s to shame. For someone who was never hugged much as a child, he sure knew how to give the best ones, you thought. “Hello, love.” He smiled, his bright white teeth lighting up the room, giving a polite kiss to your cheek. You were embarrassed how fast your panties soaked through.

Suddenly, Aegon was pushed away by Aemond, who put his arm around your shoulders. “I’m sure she doesn’t want your drool all over her.”

Aegon narrowed his eyes, but still kept a smile, albeit a bit more eggy than the genuine one he directed towards you before. “Says you, brother, you’re the one clinging to her now.”

And that’s how most of the holiday went, Aemond and Aegon constantly trying to spend time alone with you, which you never understood why. You even asked Helaena why they were being fussier than usual, to which she just responded with a mischievous giggle. It was a shame, but you honestly didn’t have that much time to spend with each of them alone, the family’s bread and circuses being too grand for anyone to have alone time. Besides, you were there for Helaena and you didn’t want to leave her side for anything. Even if you, in your heart, desired to spend time with her brothers a bit more. 

During the entire holiday, you needed to relieve yourself more than once in the privacy of your guest room. You brought yourself to your peak with your vibrator, imagining Aegon’s tongue gliding up your neck, kissing his full lips, his cock reaching the deepest parts of you as he taunts you to come for him. You also imagined Aemond, his large hand squeezing your throat as he fucks you from behind, his grunts in your ear and he spills in your womb, rubbing your clit and forcing you to climax over and over until you broke for him. Even, bashfully, having them both fuck you at the same time. You knew no one would ever find out your lecherous fantasies, but you still blushed thinking about it.

You were proud you survived the Targaryen festivities without slipping up and exposing your crushes, the hardest thing you’ve ever done. You really needed to get laid, and you didn’t like it but you knew you had to move on. You needed to go on one of those dating websites, get a quick fuck and maybe even find a relationship. And when university came back in full force and you were alone in your flat with nothing but homework and the spider that had permanently made a home in your coffee cup cabinet, you did exactly that.

Julian Lannister…hmm. He was handsome, for sure. Fit, blonde and blue-eyed…not the type of blonde you personally liked and his eyes were a dark blue that could’ve passed as a type of purple in the dark. He was conventionally attractive, and that was good enough for you. 

Swipe Right.

Aegon heard a loud shatter from across the flat, his feet almost sliding across the wooden flooring as he ran to the source of the noise. “Fuck!”

His eyes widened as he saw the blood stained shards of a mirror scattered in a pile on the floor, seeing his brother’s enraged face glued to his phone. “Aemond?” He exclaimed. “What the bloody hell is going on? What have you done to yourself?” Aegon rushed to Aemond’s side, trying to gently grab his cut up hand, but he lurched away. “What’s wrong?”

Aemond didn’t say a word as he lifted his phone screen for Aegon to see. A text from Helaena. She’s got a boyfriend now. Aegon understood now, as he felt his heart sink in his chest and a similar rage bubble in his chest. But alas, he didn’t feel the need to punch a mirror like his idiot brother did. “Ah…so that’s why you decided to mutilate yourself, you twat?”

It took some convincing, but Aegon got his little brother to let him clean the wounds on his hands. “I fucked it all up…” Aemond mumbled.

Aegon sighed, wrapping a bandage around Aemond’s hand. “So did I. We had the whole holiday but we pussied out, no one to blame but ourselves. Woman like her, she was bound to be swept off her feet eventually.”

“It should’ve been one of us…”

“Yeah…but hey, we’re still her best mates, that’s not gonna change. I’d rather be in her life as a friend than not at all, yeah?”

Aemond nodded his head in agreement. “Just wish I could’ve shown her how happy I can make her, and how happy she makes me.”

“The future’s not set in stone, right? Sure, she has a man now, but that doesn’t mean she’s gonna stay with him forever.” Aemond chuckled. “What?”

“I think that’s the smartest thing you’ve ever said in your life.”

“Mmm, yeah, right, ruin the moment, why don’t ya?”

“Baby, baby, please-!” You were interrupted with a slap from your boyfriend, the force of it shoving you to the floor with a cry.

“Don’t you dare “baby” me, slut! I knew you didn’t love me, you’ll never love anyone more than those Targaryen freaks! Hope you die in a ditch, bitch.” Julian stormed out of your flat, slamming the door so hard the picture you hung up of the two of you fell and shattered, glass flying everywhere.

It had been two months leading up to this moment. Two months since you started dating Julian, who started out as a one night stand, then a two night stand, then you started fucking every night until he asked you to be his girlfriend. In truth, you should’ve told him no, but the sex was decent and you desperately wanted to get over Aegon and Aemond. You led him on, and that was your fault. Now, you were paying the consequences. A bruise on your cheek formed quickly, and you cut up your hands picking up the pieces of glass in a sobbing fit. You deserved this, didn’t you? 

You needed to see your best friends. Honestly, you wanted to see your boys, but you knew that would not turn out well. You were in a bad state, you needed to talk to someone that wouldn’t judge you when you couldn’t control what came out of your mouth while venting. Helaena might be upset you had feelings for her brothers, but you knew ultimately you wouldn't lose her because of it. So to Helaena’s you went.

But what you didn’t know was that Aegon and Aemond were at their sister’s flat while she was at a study getaway with one of her classes, making sure her cat Dreamfire was getting proper attention. If you had known that, you never would’ve knocked on her door.

It was Aemond who opened the door first, his eye widening and brows furrowing in concern, seeing your tear stained face…and then the bruise. “What happened?” He almost growled, pulling you past the threshold into the flat before you could even protest. Aegon said your name in gleeful surprise, but his smile immediately fell when he noticed something was wrong. 

“I never should’ve come here.” You cried, trying to hide your face from the brothers.

“Hey, hey…” Aegon whispered, gently trying to pry your hands away from your face. “Did that Lannister prick do this?” You didn’t have to say anything for them both to know he guessed correctly, both looking at each other with a similar expression. “We’ll kill him.”

“No, please!” You quickly exclaimed, knowing that they could and get away with it. “Please, he’s not worth it. It’s over between us, I don’t want to waste any more time on him, please. Can I just…please, let’s just watch a movie or something, okay?”

Aemond pulled your weak form into a tight hug, his warmth calming you slightly. “We can do whatever you want, love. Right, Aegon?”

He nodded. “Yeah, of course.” He placed his large hand on your shoulder, smoothing the wrinkles on your shirt in a soothing motion. “We’ll always be here for you.”

Since that night, neither Aegon nor Aemond left you alone. If they weren’t in the same area as you, they were always texting you, making sure you were okay or if you needed anything. It felt like you had two husbands doting on you. The thought made you a little bit too happy. But one thing that worried you a little was how fast you heard of something bad happening to Julian. It didn’t even take a week for you to hear about him being in a motor “accident.” He wasn’t majorly injured or anything, but he had to stay in the hospital for a couple weeks before he could start physical therapy to learn how to walk again. You felt bad for how apathetic you were about the whole thing. You were just relieved he was out of your life.

You could spend time with your best friends without feeling guilty now, knowing you didn’t have a boyfriend to cater too. You could finally get yourself off without feeling like you were cheating in a way. You were free. But the downside, your crushes on Aemond and Aegon had only gotten stronger. You would have movie nights all the time whenever you weren’t busy with college or your job. You spent time with them and Helaena at the same time and it was lovely. You didn’t know how it managed to get this way, but they’d even spend the night at your flat sometimes. Not that you minded all that much, it just made it harder to act like a normal person who didn’t have extremely strong feelings for someone, or someones.

It often was the same way, you, Aegon, and Aemond all sitting on your couch watching some stupid movie, much like tonight. And like always, you sat between the two brothers. But something felt different, it felt more charged. Electrified. Maybe it was because Aemond had his hand on your thigh, squeezing occasionally, as if he hadn’t really noticed what he was doing. Or maybe it was because Aegon had his arm over your shoulder, leaning into you just enough you could smell his shampoo. You felt hot all over, and what made it worse, a sex scene in the movie started to play.

It was eerily silent, and you could’ve sworn you heard your heart beating wildly. Aemond squeezed your thigh so hard you shifted in your spot with a wince, making you lean into Aegon more, which in turn made Aegon squeeze your shoulder. You felt like you were going to start hyperventilating, so you did the only thing you thought to do. You quietly excused yourself, claiming you needed a glass of water. And you did, the cool liquid flowing down your throat with ease, but it only made you wish something else was flowing down your throat…

You were startled out of your thoughts by Aegon gently calling your name, “You alright there, love?”

“Oh, uh, yeah.” You stuttered, turning around and leaning against the counter. “Just thirsty.”

“Yeah, you seem really thirsty.” He smirked, coming closer to you slightly. “You sure you’re alright, you seem a little frazzled. Did something happen? Did Julian contact you? I sweat, if that bastard-”

“No, nothing like that Egg, I promise. I just…”

When you didn’t finish your sentence, Aegon walked closer and closer to you, your heart starting to race. You tried backing up but you were already pushed up against the cool counter of the kitchen, making it easy for Aegon to corner you. You felt your face heat up as you started to feel his body heat. You cursed yourself silently as you felt your clit start to throb, a wetness starting to leak out of you. “Is there something you’re not telling me, love?” He asked.

You didn’t say anything, but Aegon could tell what you wanted to say. Ever since you started spending more time with him and his brother, they figured out you must’ve had feelings for both of them. Aemond was the first to suspect it, as observant as he was. He noticed the way your pulse quickened whenever he held your hand as “friends.” He saw how your chest heaved whenever each of them got close to you, though Aegon never noticed before. But now, after hearing all over his little brother’s observations Aegon could see the lust in your eyes, saw how your chest heaved. He placed a hand just over your left breast, feeling how fast your heart was beating. 

“Aegon…” You whispered, and he couldn’t help but place his lips against yours. You couldn’t help the moan that escaped your mouth, a small tear running down the side of your face. Aegon’s hands ran up your sides, gently squeezing the fat that shaped the body he loved so much. Oh, how he wanted to lift you up onto the counter, pull your pajama shorts and panties to the side and shove his cock deep inside your heat as far as you could take him. But you were different, maybe he would’ve done that with someone he didn’t care for, definitely back when he was a troubled youth. No, he had to treat you with care, and also the deal he made with Aemond. He couldn’t have you all to himself, at least not yet.

Aegon let out a whine as he forced himself to pull away, leaving the both of you breathless. “If you hadn’t already figured it out, I have some pretty strong feelings for you, love.”

“Oh, Aegon, I do too…but-”

“Aemond. You have feelings for him as well.”

Your eyes widened. “How did you-”

“We figured it out some time ago, and we’re fine with it. We, uh…have some to an agreement, if you’ll hear us out.”

Before you could question anything he was talking about, Aegon led you back to the living room, where Aemond was sitting patiently for the two of you. “Please tell me you didn’t fuck it up.”

“I don’t think so?”

Aegon sat you down in a chair opposite of them, letting you have the space to back out if you needed. They didn’t want to overwhelm you just yet. Aemond leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, “So, I assume Aegon told you about our agreement?”

“Just that you had one.” You answered, which caused Aemond to shoot a glare at his older brother.

“I thought it would be best to talk to her about it together, dickhead.”

“Anyway.” Aemond growled. “Aegon and I…both have feelings for you, and we know you have feelings for us. It wouldn’t be fair to ask you to choose, so we’re willing to share you…if you want.” It was like a dream come true, no, too good to be true. You couldn’t believe it. Were you dreaming? You must’ve been dreaming. “Are you still with us?”

“This…is a lot.” You sighed shakily, but you knew what your body’s answer was, you just didn’t know how you could mentally handle it. “I do want both of you, but how would that work? I know how…uh, jealous you guys can be, especially of each other. How would you handle sharing me?”

Aemond and Aegon gave each other another one of those silent looks, one of those looks that spoke a thousand words without even opening their mouths. “You’re more important to us than our jealousy. We want you in our lives, and we’re willing to do anything to keep you here.” Aemond answered.

“So, if you’re willing, we want to make you happy. But if you don’t feel comfortable…we will understand.” Aegon spoke, but his eyes were pleading, begging that you’d agree.

In the end, you knew what your answer would be. You loved those boys so much, so you couldn’t imagine having to choose between one of them or choosing neither. Why not choose both?

“You…” You smiled shyly, “have my permission to share me.”

And like a switch flipped in each of them, gone were their nervous and hopeful expressions, they were now replaced with an almost predatory and lustful gaze. You could feel the weight of two pairs of eyes looking you up and down like a meal, your core clenching around nothing. You had never been more aroused than you had ever been in your life, you could practically feel yourself dripping. The feeling got even worse when Aemond stood up from the couch, sauntering over to you and leaning his hands on the armrests of the chair you sat in. You craned your head up to meet his gaze, your eyes heavy with desire as he bit his lip and groaned softly, like he was scared of letting himself go. His silver chain that he often wore snuck out of his shirt and dangled below his neck, and it was driving you crazy how sexy this man was.

Aemond chuckled darkly as he noticed you squeezing your thighs together, causing you to blush and look down, but he gently placed his index finger underneath your chin, lifting your gaze back to his. “Tell me what you want, sweet girl.” He whispered smoothly, his voice grazing over you like silk. 

You whimpered when he reached down to squeeze your thigh. “Aemond, please…”

“Please…what? Hm?” You huffed in frustration, your body so heady with arousal it was hard to put the images in your head to words. “I can’t help you if you don’t use your words.”

“Aemond.” Aegon interrupted, and you both looked over to see him watching in amusement at your interactions with each other. “Our poor girl is so needy she can’t speak properly. You’ve been around, what do you think she wants to ask of you?”

Aemond hummed, shifting his gaze back to you. “I imagine…our pretty girl wants me to taste her pretty pussy. Am I right to assume so?” You nodded quickly, the thought making you whine. “Not good enough, love. I’m going to need you to say yes or no for me.”

“Yes, Aemond! Please…” You whined.

“Oh,” Aegon chuckled, “look who’s using her words now?”

You tensed when Aemond started to get on his knees, clenching your thighs together. “What’s wrong?” He immediately asked, and you blushed, your reasoning a bit embarrassing. “It’s okay, you can tell me. Is this not what you really want?”

“That’s not it at all, I just…” You huffed, putting aside your nervousness. “I’d like to have my first kiss with you first…”

A beat passed, one that almost lasted too long before you started to feel even more embarrassed. But Aemond smiled, a genuine, toothy smile. It was a rare thing to see him smile like that. Most of the time, he smirked or tried to hide his teeth. But god when he really smiled, it was as beautiful as Aegon’s. Aemond leaned forward, still on his knees, so you had to lean down to meet him slightly. You wondered how his kisses would be different from Aegon’s. With Aegon, when he kissed you for the first time, it was heavy weighted and passionate, he leaned his whole body against yours, almost bringing you into a hug at the same time. You felt like you couldn’t escape his kiss in the best way. But with Aemond, at first his kiss was soft and light, like he was kissing someone for the first time; but when you met him with the same eagerness, he deepened the kiss by bringing his hands up to cup your face, tilting his head to fully slot his lips perfectly against yours. It was a gentleman’s kiss, but no less passionate. If you hadn't already been sitting, you would’ve gone weak at the knees.

Aemond pulled away from you slowly, a soft clicking noise as your lips broke apart. He hummed lowly, “I always knew you’d taste so good. I’m sure your other lips will taste just as sweet.” You gasped loudly as Aemond removed your shorts and underwear in one swift motion, his eye darkening as he saw how soaked you were already. “So wet and I’ve only kissed you. Come see, brother.”

Aegon all too eagerly crossed the room to witness your wetness, his grin making a pang of arousal surge through you so strongly it almost hurt. “Like a fuckin’ virgin.” He stood behind you as Aemond placed a soft kiss on your clit, making your back arch and head loll back against Aegon’s waist, his hands rubbing your shoulders as you whimpered from Aemond’s touch. “You gonna be a good girl for us?”

“Yes, Aegon.” You breathed out, then breathing in sharply as Aemond licked up and down your folds with a groan. “Fu…”

“Mmm,” Aemond groaned, “so sweet, just like I thought.” You bit your lip as he pressed two fingers inside you, a noisy squelch giving away just how turned on you were. “Fuck, baby, you’re so tight. Relax, or else you’ll never be able to take us.”

Aegon leaned down and started to kiss your neck, his hands reaching down to grasp at your hardened nipples. “Such a sweet girl, you’re doing so well for us, aren’t you? Taking Aemond’s fingers and tongue so well.”

You let out a borderline pornagraphic moan as Aemond thrusted his fingers inside you while flicking the tip of his tongue against your clit, Aegon’s finger roughly pinching your nipples getting you way too close way too fast. You wanted this to last so bad, but they didn’t show any signs of stopping and you weren’t about to stop them either. “Are you close already, beautiful?” Aemond asked, and you nodded. “Do you wanna come so soon? I can stop if you’d like.” He teased, sensing how desperate you must’ve been.

“No, no, please, Aemy, please. Please, I wanna come so bad. Please, let me come.” You sobbed.

“Didn’t even have to ask you to beg for it. Good girl. Come for me. Come on my fuckin’ fingers.”

You let out a strangled whine as your first orgasm washed over you, your whole body tensing and relaxing as your pussy contracted around Aemond’s fingers, your clit throbbing intensely as his tongue bullied it expertly. “Such a good girl.” You heard Aegon say, his voice sounding far away as you came down from your high.

“Did you like that, baby?” Aemond asked, palming his cock through his sweatpants. Did he even need to ask? “Aegon, you should have a taste too.” Your eyes widened, knowing how sensitive you are after you come. You wouldn’t be able to handle it. But that didn’t seem to matter to them, as Aegon quickly knelt to the floor, burying his face and tongue in your cunt, making you squeal.

“Fuck!” Aegon purred into you, fucking your pussy with his tongue, your eyes rolling to the back of your head in overstimulation, your mouth open wide practically drooling. Aemond took advantage of that, pulling his cock from his trousers and guiding it gently into your awaiting mouth, taking him eagerly.

“Damn, baby, your mouth feels so fuckin’ good, fuck…” Aemond groaned, restraining himself and making sure he didn’t fuck your face too hard, although you didn’t seem to mind. You were slobbering and moaning on his cock, the slight vibrations making his dick twitch from how good it felt, having to pull out before he released too early. “Need to feel that pussy around my cock.”

“I’m not fuckin’ done here.” Aegon growled, determined to make you come on his mouth.

“She’s too sensitive, she won’t be able to.” That comment from Aemond only seemed to spur him on.

“Are you doubting my abilities, brother?” You had to cover your mouth from screaming when Aegon started to suck on your clit, making you arch your back and twitch against him, not sure if you were trying to get away or push him closer. And you couldn’t believe it, but you were getting closer to another orgasm. Aegon’s mouth sloppily kissing and sucking your clit was too much, it was painful but you didn’t want it to stop.

You were writhing in your chair, Aemond having to hold you down so you didn’t fall off or hurt yourself in any way, the force of his hands holding you making your orgasm rise quickly burst out of you like a fountain, spraying onto Aegon’s face, who was grinning like Cheshire Cat. “Fuck, that was so sexy, darling. If I thought you could handle it, I’d make you do that again.”

“Please, don’t…” You chuckled breathlessly.

“Think you’ll be able to handle something else, then?” You nodded meekly. “Let’s take this to the bedroom, shall we?”

Aegon and Aemond led you on wobbly legs to your bedroom, kissing all over your body wherever there was naked flesh. Already two orgasms in, you were sensitive all over, your skin tingling and tickling from their kisses. You could feel each of their hard, throbbing cocks grinding against you. You reached out blindly, not knowing whose you touched until you heard Aegon groan. “Fuck, darling, you drive me crazy. Think you can take us?”

“Anything you want.” You moaned as Aemond cupped your breast, taking your nipple in his mouth and sucking harshly.

“I want to fuck that tight cunny of yours.” Aegon growled, flipping you over onto your stomach, making you face Aemond, his cock intimidatingly erect. You instinctively licked your lips, wrapping them just over the head of his cock, making him moan. You whined when you felt Aegon push into you slowly, his thick cock stretching your channel so deliciously, feeling every ridge and vein. You had to come off Aemond’s dick when Aegon bottomed out, your face contorting in pleasure. He wasn’t as long as Aemond, but he was so incredibly thick and you could tell you were going to be sore in the morning. “Gods, so wet and tight for me. You alright, love?”

“Yes.” You moaned, trying your best to suck Aemond off properly, your spit and drool running down your chin and drenching his balls. “Fuck!” You shouted as Aegon started a steady pace, the blunt tip of his cock hitting your cervix over and over. “So…deep…feels so good, Aegon.”

“Doing so well, like you were made for this.” Aemond moaned, starting to fuck your face gently, your gags and tears spilling from you spurring him on further. You probably thought you looked like a mess, but you were beautiful to him. To both of them. The way your brows furrowed when they went too deep, your face slightly red with blush and exertion, the pretty noises you made; they were cuntstruck.

“Fuck, gods, no, not yet.” Aegon grunted, his cock twitching inside of you. “Your pussy feels too good.” He moaned, wanting to slow down but ultimately pistoned into you with a force that made you surge forward and gag on Aemond’s cock deeper. Aegon let out a beautiful low groan as he came inside you, his hot sticky cum painting your inner walls white.

Before you could do anything, Aemond was pushing Aegon out of the way, quickly replacing Aegon’s cock with his, filling you to the brim immediately, causing you to cry out. “Her pussy’s that good, huh?” Aemond taunted, groaning loudly as he fucked you like he was trying to break you.

“Yes.” Aegon answered simply, laying next to you, lazily stroking his cock as he watched your facial expressions, wanting to get hard again. “Such a pretty girl.” He kissed you passionately, paired with Aemond’s thrusts made your head spin.

“Gods, I could fuck this pussy forever…” Aemond moaned, pushing the small of your back into the bed, forcing you to arch your back for him, his cock hitting deeper and deeper.

“Please…!” You whined obnoxiously, making the boys chuckle. You felt so out of it, the only thing registering was how good Aemond’s cock was making you feel. “Fuck! Ah!” You sobbed, feeling your uterus contract, another powerful orgasm starting to bubble up inside you.

“Can I fuck you again, darling?” Aegon asked softly, his cock already hard again and ready for you.

“No way, not now, not when I’m so fuckin’ close.” Aemond growled, keeping his body hunched over you protectively.

“I didn’t say you had to stop. If she’ll let me, I’d like to use that other tight hole of hers.” Your eyes widened, a deep pang of arousal surging through you like lightning at the thought of being so thoroughly filled by both of the men you loved. “It’s okay if you’re not comfortable-”

“Yes.”

“Uh, are you sure-?”

“Yes, Aegon! Please! I want you both to fuck me at the same time.”

Aegon smirked, looking at Aemond. “Well, you heard the lady.”

Aemond positioned himself under you so that you could ride him, while Aegon got behind you, grabbing a bottle of lube and applied some to your puckered hole generously, pushing a finger in slowly. You whimpered at the stretch, clenching around Aemond’s cock, causing him to grab your hips roughly. “Relax.” Then Aegon added another finger, then another, trying to match his girth to make sure you were prepared for him.

“Are you ready, pretty girl?”

“Please, Aegon.” You threw your head back against Aegon’s shoulder as he started to push in, the lube and the way he prepped you making it a not too terrible stretch. You could feel a stomach ache coming on, but gods, you didn’t want this to ever end. “Fuck…” You sobbed as he started to thrust into you gently, Aemond doing the same.

You never thought you’d pass out during sex, you couldn’t possibly believe it could feel that good. But these men proved you wrong, and you felt like you could collapse at any moment. You felt like a boneless fish, at the mercy of Aemond and Aegon, each thrusting with abandon, passing you back and forth like a game of tennis. All you could do was hang on for the ride and take it, moaning like a pornstar was all you had to put your energy in, not like you could help it.

Your third and most powerful orgasm came over you suddenly, wracking your body with chills and spasms, yelling so loud you were pretty sure you’d get noise complaints from your neighbors. But you couldn’t care less, with how amazing you felt, it was like an out of body experience. “Good fuckin’ girl, taking both our cocks so well.” Aegon moaned, kissing and biting your shoulder. “Fuck, gonna come again.”

“Me too.” Aemond moaned, “You want our cum deep inside both your holes, hm?”

“Yes, Aemond, yes! Come in me, please…” Both Aegon and Aemond let out deep groans, filling up both your holes with their cum, making you feel so full and complete. They both pulled out of you slowly, gently laying you down in between them on the bed. You shifted uncomfortably when you felt their cum leaking out of you, making a mess of your thighs and sheets. But it didn’t matter when they both cuddled up against you, making you feel so safe and secure.

“Are you okay, baby?” Aemond asked, caressing your cheek.

“More than okay.” You giggled, still breathless. You all were so sweaty, you’d all need a shower.

“That was amazing.” Aegon sighed, cuddling into your side like you were a teddy bear, his arm reaching over your waist while Aemond smoothed out your hair. “You were amazing.”

There was a beat where each of you just cuddled one another, steadying your breathing and taking in each other’s warmth. It was nice, almost as nice as the sex, but it didn’t stop you from thinking, “What happens now?” Your shy voice echoed in the now quiet room.

“Now?” Aegon mused. “Now, we do that again and again.”

Aemond rolled his eye at Aegon’s quip, continuing to smooth your hair down in a comforting manner. “Like we told you before, we both want you, and we’re both willing to share you. Like a polyamorous situation. We weren’t lying about how we feel about you, you know that.”

“If that’s alright with you, darling. We’d like to be your boyfriends, if you’ll have us. Our ancestor did the same thing…but the reverse…and with his sisters. So comparatively, this is normal.” Aegon chuckled.

Kissing both of their cheeks, you relaxed into their embrace. “Then yes, I’d love to be your girlfriend, both of yours.” You giggled when they both started kissing your cheeks, pawing at you like they wanted to go another round. “I can’t imagine the family gatherings won’t be awkward from now on.”

“They’ve always been awkward, love, that’s nothing to worry about.”

didn't mean for it to be this long oops🙈

[itneverendshere]

played me like a clarinet - rafe cameron (two)

request: "Desperately-on my knees-begging for a ''She's all that'' from 1999, with Popular Rafe x Reader. Ooouff, and you want that soul crushing heartbreak when she finds out about the bet he had made" pairing: rafe x smart!nerdy!reader. warnings: more angst <3; read part one here

Rafe can’t pinpoint the exact moment he fell for you. 

Maybe it was that late-night study session in the library, when you two were the only ones left, books spread out around you in a chaotic mess. You were focused, and determined to get through the material, but you still found time to crack a joke about the professor’s outdated references. It caught him off guard, the way your eyes lit up with humor, and he found himself smiling back, genuinely for the first time in a while.

Or maybe it was the day you dragged him out of bed for an early morning hike, insisting that the sunrise was something he couldn’t miss. He was grumpy, still half-asleep, but the way you looked at the horizon with pure wonder in your eyes made it all worth it. You were always pulling him into these little adventures—moments he would’ve missed if it weren’t for you. And each time, he found himself enjoying them more because you were there.

Maybe it was when you’d curl up next to him in his dorm room, no words needed, just the comfort of each other’s presence. You didn’t ask for anything from him, didn’t expect him to be anyone but himself. It was in those moments that Rafe started to realize how much he needed you—how much he craved the simplicity of just being with you.

Then there was that day in the quad, where you were sitting with a group of friends, laughing about something he couldn’t hear from where he stood. You looked so at ease, so effortlessly yourself, that he couldn’t take his eyes off you. It hit him then, a quiet revelation that left him breathless: you weren’t just someone he enjoyed being around. You were someone he couldn’t imagine being without.

He started looking forward to the little things—walking you to class, the way your hand would brush against his as you walked side by side, the shared meals where you’d always steal fries off his plate with a mischievous grin. He fell for the way you listened to him, really listened, even when he was just venting about something trivial. You made him feel seen and understood in a way no one else ever had.

Rafe might not be able to pinpoint the exact moment he fell for you, but he knows that somewhere along the way, you became his favorite part of every day. You made him want to be better, to live up to the version of himself that you seemed to see, even when he struggled to see it himself. 

Of course, he had to fuck up the best thing to happen in his life.

He had never been good at keeping good things close. Maybe it was fear, maybe it was self-sabotage, or maybe he just didn’t know how to handle something real. He didn’t mean to—he never wanted to hurt you—but somehow, he always found a way to mess things up.

He’d forgotten all about the stupid bet. No one had mentioned it in months, he figured it was over. Gone. Like they had never planned it in the first place. It was so fucking stupid of him. He figured it was over, a distant memory that held no weight against what you meant to him now. But he was wrong. So fucking wrong.

The damage was done. He’d never forget the look on your face when you confronted him. It nearly undid him right there. He tried to explain, to tell you that the bet was meaningless, that it hadn’t mattered from the moment he truly got to know you. But every word felt hollow, wrong, as if he was trying to patch up a wound that was too deep to heal. He hadn’t meant to fall for you, hadn’t expected you to become the most important person in his life.

But you did.

You walked out that day, and he didn’t have the strength to stop you. He couldn’t, because deep down, he knew he had no right to ask you to stay. He had fucked up in the worst way

Rafe tried to tell himself that it was for the best, that you were better off without him, but every day without you only proved how wrong he was. He missed you—God, he missed you more than he thought possible. Nights were the worst. He would lay awake, staring at the ceiling, replaying everything over and over again, wishing he could go back, undo it all. But he couldn't.

He'd see you around campus sometimes. But there was a distance now—a wall that he had put there, and it killed him to know that he was the reason for it. 

Whenever your eyes met, there was no warmth, no recognition. It was as if he had become just a stranger to you, and it tore him apart.

Rafe knew he needed to give you space, but the thought of never having you in his life again was unbearable. He would catch himself walking in your direction, only to stop short, turning away because he didn't want to cause you more pain. But he wanted to talk to you, to explain himself better, to make you understand that he never meant for any of this to happen. The words never came out right in his head, and he doubted they ever would in person. But still, he wanted to try.

And then one day, as he was walking through the quad, he saw you sitting alone on a bench, reading a book. For a moment, it felt like old times, when he could just walk over, sit beside you, and everything would be okay. But it wasn’t like that anymore. His chest tightened as he watched you, the familiar ache swelling up inside him.

He was just about to turn away when he heard a familiar voice behind him.

"Rafe, man! There you are!"

It was Kelce, along with a couple of their friends. They were laughing, completely oblivious to his situation. Rafe stiffened, his jaw clenching as he realized what was about to happen. He tried to subtly signal Kelce to keep it down, to not draw any more attention to him—or worse, to you.

But it was too late. Kelce was already too close, and you had already noticed the group approaching. Your eyes flickered from your book to them, and then to Rafe, your expression unreadable.

Kelce, noticing your gaze, gave you a nod and then turned to Rafe, still grinning. 

The fucking nerve he had was astonishing. 

"What are you doing over here, man? Stalking her now, or just reminiscing?"

Rafe shot him a look, but he just laughed, clearly thinking it was all in good fun. 

"C'mon, we were just heading to grab some food. You should join us."

All he could think about was the last time Kelce had been involved in his life—how it was his drunken confession that had ultimately led to this entire mess. Rafe hadn’t forgotten how he had blurted out the truth about the bet to someone else. And now, here he was again, completely fucking oblivious to what he’d done.

Rafe could feel your eyes on him, and it made his skin prickle with unease. He wanted to say something, to explain that this wasn’t what it looked like, that he wasn’t here with them, but the words caught in his throat. He glanced at you, searching for some sign of what you were thinking, but your face was carefully neutral.

Before he could even try to say anything, you stood up, tucking your book under your arm. Without a word, you walked away, leaving Rafe standing there, feeling more lost than ever.

Kelce, still clueless, nudged him. “Come on, let’s go.”

He shook his head, finally finding his voice. “You guys go ahead. I’ll catch up later.”

Kelce shrugged and turned to leave with the others, but not before throwing a careless comment over his shoulder. “Don’t get too caught up, man. There’s plenty of other fish in the sea.”

He wanted to punch him so fucking bad it hurt. 

He took a deep breath. But all he could think about was the look on your face as you walked away. That blank, unreadable expression had become all too familiar. It was worse than anger—it was indifference.

And Rafe knew that was entirely his fault.

As they walked off, he sank down onto the bench you had just vacated. The warmth from where you’d been sitting still lingered, a cruel reminder of how close you’d been, and yet so far out of reach. He buried his face in his hands, groaning. 

What the fuck was he doing? Lurking around you like some creep because he didn’t have the balls to talk to you. Every part of him was still tethered to you.

He hadn't even been brave enough to tell you he loved you. You had walked away thinking you were just a bet. You had walked away believing you were nothing more than a stupid game. And he had let you. He had let you walk away without telling you the truth.

He didn’t just care for you. He didn’t just like you. He was in love with you. 

He knew he couldn’t keep doing this—couldn’t keep watching you from a distance, hoping for some kind of miracle. If he wanted any chance of making things right, he had to take that chance himself. He had to face the mess he’d made, no matter how terrifying it was. Because losing you forever was a thousand times worse than the fear of rejection or the pain of knowing he’d hurt you.

⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷⁀➷ೃ

You’d been trying to move on.

It was the only way to handle what had happened between you and Rafe. You fought to ignore the ache in your chest, to keep yourself busy enough that you wouldn’t have time to think about him.

But the truth was, moving on wasn’t as simple as just letting time pass.

You’d always felt like you had a good handle on things, that you could manage your emotions with a certain degree of control. But this was different. This was a kind of pain you’d never felt before, that crept into your days, making you wary of every familiar corner of campus, every spot you and Rafe had shared. You’d hoped that the sting would slowly fade, that the distance would bring relief. Instead, it seemed to only make things worse for you.

When you saw him in the quad that day with his friends, your heart sank. You tried to focus on your book, tried to drown out the sound of their laughter, but it was impossible. You knew that, despite everything, you would still recognize him in a crowd. It was as if your heart had a direct line to him, a constant reminder of the last time you had seen him.

You had tried so hard to keep your composure, to act like seeing him didn’t matter.

But it did. So much it nearly brought you to tears on the spot. But you weren’t about to cry in public, again, for him. 

Kelce’s comment reached your ears as you walked away and you felt a fresh wave of hurt. The way he laughed, as if the entire situation was a joke, made your stomach churn. It wasn’t just the bet—it was everything. It was the way Rafe had made you feel like you were just another game to be won and then discarded. It was the fact he was still hanging around that kind of people. It was the fact he hadn’t tried to speak to you yet.

You didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of seeing you hurt, but having your heart broken hurt like a bitch. 

You thought you were going insane when Jessica, more precisely Rafe’s ex-girlfriend, sat next to you in the locker room before practice. 

“I'm sorry about him.”

You didn’t spare her a glance, afraid that this was just another sick game you were getting sucked into, “About who?”

Jessica let out a small, humorless laugh. "Fair enough," She paused, her voice softer than you’d ever heard it. “Rafe.”

You didn’t want to talk about him. Bringing him up meant everything was real. 

“I’m not here to stir up drama or anything,” she continued, her tone surprisingly sincere. “I just…I wanted to say I’m sorry. For what he did to you. He’s better than that.”

You finally glanced over at her, skepticism clear in your eyes. “Why are you telling me this?”

Jessica shrugged, leaning back against the bench, “Because you didn’t deserve it. But also because that idiot is clearly in love with you.”

“Love?” The word felt foreign on your tongue, almost laughable after everything that had happened. “That’s ridiculous.”

“I’m serious.”

There was something in her voice that made you falter, a quiet vulnerability that you hadn’t expected. Jessica had always seemed so put-together, so confident, but now, sitting beside you, she looked almost… defeated. 

Jess sighed, “Look, I’m not here to defend him. What he did was fucked up, and he knows it. But I’ve known Rafe a long time, and I’ve never seen him like this before. He’s a mess without you. He won’t admit it, but it’s obvious to anyone who’s paying attention.”

You shook your head, “If he really cared, he would’ve told me. He would’ve tried.”

“Maybe he’s scared,” Jessica offered. “I mean, he’s always been good at screwing things up. Pushing people away before they get too close. It’s like his defense mechanism or something.”

You laughed bitterly. “Well, he succeeded. He pushed me so far away, I don’t think I can ever come back.”

“I get it. But just don’t close yourself off completely. If there’s even a small part of you that still cares about him, maybe give him a chance to explain. He’s not perfect, but he’s not the guy who made that bet anymore.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. 

“Why do you care?”

“Because I hurt him even though I cared for him. What I did was a lot worse, so— Yeah. He lashes out when he’s hurt, unfortunately you got caught in the way. But the way he looks at you? We dated for two years and that motherfucker never looked at me like that."

You felt like crying all over again.

You nodded slowly. You had let Rafe see you, let him into parts of your life that you didn’t share with just anyone. And then, just like that, he had shattered everything.

Her voice broke through your thoughts again.

“I’m not saying you should forgive him, or even take him back. That’s your choice, and no one can make it for you. But I just wanted you to know that he’s different with you. Maybe he doesn’t deserve another chance, but I think he’s trying to be better because of you.”

“I don’t know if I can trust him again,” you finally admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

“That’s okay,” Jessica said gently. “Trust isn’t something that can be fixed overnight. It takes time. But maybe it’s worth considering—if you think he’s worth it.”

You sat in silence for a while, the noise of the locker room fading into the background as you both lost yourselves in your thoughts. You had been so sure that moving on was the only way forward, that putting as much distance between you and Rafe as possible was the best option.

With that, she stood up, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze before heading toward the exit. You watched her go. You had never really thought much about Jessica beyond the typical assumptions. She was Rafe’s ex, the girl who had been with him before you, your cheer squad captain. That was the extent of it. You’d never really seen parts of the real her. You knew she’d left him for someone else, but you strangely felt a connection to her. Like she was the only one listening, understanding how you really felt.

You hadn’t expected her to be so… human. Vulnerable. 

You leaned back against the cold metal of the locker, staring at the ceiling. The idea of trusting him again seemed impossible, like trying to glue together a shattered vase with pieces still missing. But what Jessica had said struck a chord—he was different with you. You’d seen it too, those moments when he’d let his guard down, when he’d been genuine, real.

Practice started, but your mind wasn’t in it. Your movements felt mechanical, your usual enthusiasm gone. You kept replaying everything in your head. By the end of practice, you were exhausted, both physically and emotionally.

Back in your room, you dropped your bag by the door and collapsed onto your bed. The familiar surroundings offered little comfort. You pulled out your phone, scrolling through your messages, half-expecting one from Rafe that never came. 

But maybe, just maybe, it was time to take a sledgehammer the wall between you two.  You sat up, taking a deep breath. If you were going to do this—if you were going to even entertain the idea of talking to Rafe—you needed to be honest with yourself first. You still cared about him. You’d tried to bury those feelings, tried to convince yourself that you were over it, but the truth was, you weren’t. Not completely. Before you could overthink it, you grabbed your phone and opened a new message.

We need to talk.

Your finger hovered over the send button for what felt like an eternity. Once you pressed it, there was no going back. But maybe that was the point. You couldn’t keep living in this limbo, caught between the past and the future.

With a final deep breath, you hit send.

The wait felt unbearable. You stared at your phone, willing it to light up, to give you some kind of response. And then, just when you were about to give up, it buzzed in your hand.

Rafe: Yeah, we do. Tonight?

Oh god.

Where?

You were really doing this.

Rafe: Your dorm?

Was talking to the boy who shattered your heart and trust in a secluded place a good idea? No. But you were tired.

Okay.

You set your phone down, heart racing. The reality of what you’d just agreed to hit you like a punch, leaving you feeling both terrified and relieved. You’d spent so long avoiding this conversation, but now there was no more running.

As you waited, every minute felt like an eternity. You tried to distract yourself, but your mind kept wandering back to the idea of seeing him again, of hearing his voice, of looking into those eyes that had once made you feel safe. Now, they were just a reminder of the pain.

When a knock finally echoed through your dorm room, you jumped. For a moment, you debated not answering, pretending you weren’t there. But you couldn’t keep avoiding this forever. You crossed the room, your hand hesitating on the doorknob before you pulled it open.

Rafe stood there, looking more nervous than you’d ever seen him. His usual confident posture was gone.He ran a hand through his hair, his eyes searching yours as if trying to gauge how much of a mess he’d made.

“Hi,” he said, his voice low, uncertain.

You nodded, stepping aside to let him in. The door closed behind him with a soft click, the sound somehow amplifying the tension between you. You both stood there for a moment, neither of you knowing where to start.

He was the first to break the silence. “I’m sorry,” he blurted out, the words rushed, like he’d been holding them in for too long. “For everything. I was an idiot, and I—”

“Yeah,” you cut him off, unable to keep the bitterness out of your voice. “You were.”

Rafe flinched, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he nodded, accepting your anger like he knew he deserved it. He looked down at the floor, his hands clenched at his sides.

“I don’t even know where to start,” he admitted, “I screwed up. I know that. And I’ve been trying to figure out how to fix it, but I don’t know how.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, trying to keep a distance between you both, both physically and emotionally. “Why didn’t you just tell me the truth?” you asked, your voice trembling with the weight of all the unanswered questions. “Why did you let it get to this point?”

“I was terrified,” he murmured, his voice so soft it almost broke. “Of what you’d think of me. Of how you’d see me if you knew the truth. I didn’t want to lose you.”

“But you did,” you said, your voice trembling with the weight of your hurt. “You lost me the moment you chose to lie.”

Rafe’s throat tightened as he swallowed, his nod filled with anguish. “I know. And I despise myself for it. But I—God, I didn’t know how to stop it. It was like everything spiraled out of control, and by the time I realized how deep I was, it was too late.”

It didn’t feel right to tell you he loved you right now. It would be unfair to you. It would feel like he was only saying it to get you back. So he settled for anything else.

You could see the struggle in him, the way his hands fidgeted slightly, his weight shifting from one foot to the other. He was here, in front of you, trying to make things right—or at least as right as they could be after what he’d done.

“Rafe,” you started, your voice calmer than you felt, “I don’t know if I can ever forgive you for what you did. The way you hurt me—it’s not something that just goes away because you’re sorry.”

He took a step closer, his hands shaking as he reached out to you but stopped himself, not daring to touch you without permission.  “I get it,” he said quietly. “I don’t expect you to forgive me. I just—” He paused, struggling to find the right words. “I just want you to know that I’m trying to change. I’m trying to be better, even if it’s too late for us.”

You let out a slow breath, your heart still aching, but something in his voice, the way he seemed so genuinely broken, tugged at you. “I can’t just pretend like everything is okay.”

“I don’t want you to,” Rafe said quickly, desperation creeping into his voice. “I don’t deserve that. But I can’t stand the thought of losing you completely. Even if you don’t forgive me, I still want you in my life.”

You looked at him, really looked at him, and saw the sincerity in his eyes. It was hard to reconcile this version of him with the one who had shattered your trust. But maybe that was the point—people were complicated, and sometimes they didn’t fit neatly into the boxes you wanted them to.

“We can try to be friends. I’m not saying it’s going to be easy, and I’m not saying it’ll work, but we can try.”

“I’d like that. I’d really like that,” he said, his voice almost breaking. “I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give.”

Friends.

The word sounded weird when you said it out loud.

The first few interactions were awkward—half-hearted smiles, stilted conversations, but both of you were trying. You started to see each other around campus more often, exchanging brief greetings that gradually turned into longer conversations. Rafe kept his distance, respecting your boundaries, but it was clear he was trying. He showed up at places he knew you'd be—not in a creepy way, but more like he wanted to be near you, to remind you that he was still there.

There were moments when the old him, your Rafe, the one who had made you laugh and pulled you into adventures, would slip through. He’d make a sarcastic comment in class, and you’d catch yourself smiling. Or he’d casually bring you coffee during your study sessions, just the way you liked it, without making a big deal out of it. 

You started to remember why you had fallen for him in the first place—his humor, his kindness, the way he could make you feel like you were the only person in the room. It wasn’t easy, though. Every time you began to let your guard down, a voice in the back of your head reminded you of the bet. You were friends, that was it. 

The cafeteria buzzed with the usual lunchtime chatter as you and Rafe sat across from each other, trays of food between you. It had become something of a routine—meeting up for lunch between classes. What had started as an awkward attempt to maintain your friendship had slowly become one of the highlights of your day. The easy banter was back, the kind that had drawn you to him in the first place, and it was nice to feel some semblance of normalcy returning between you two.

As you took a bite of your sandwich, you noticed Rafe was unusually quiet, focused intently on you. It made you self-conscious, the way his eyes seemed to see straight through you, and you couldn’t help but squirm a little under his scrutiny.

“What?” you asked, raising an eyebrow as you tried to sound casual.

He just shrugged, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Nothing. Just thinking.”

“About?”

“About how good it feels to have this again,” he said softly, his words wrapping around your heart and squeezing tight.

Before you could respond, a voice interrupted the moment. “Hey, Rafe.”

You both looked up to see a girl from your econ class standing beside your table. She was pretty, with a confident smile that didn’t waver even as she glanced between the two of you. You recognized her—Luíza, or something like that. 

“Hi,” Rafe replied, his tone polite but distracted. His eyes flickered back to you almost immediately, as if he was already bored with the conversation.

She didn’t seem to notice—or care. She flashed him a bright smile and leaned a little closer, clearly ignoring your presence. “Wondering if you’d want to study together for the next exam? I’m struggling with some of the material, and you seem like you really know your stuff.”

Well, he did. Because you were smart enough for both of you and a hell of a tutor. 

He barely spared her a glance, his focus still on you. “I’m good, thanks,” he said casually, picking up his drink and taking a sip.

She blinked, momentarily thrown off by his disinterest, but she quickly recovered. “Oh, come on,” she purred, undeterred. “I’m sure we could help each other out. Maybe over dinner?”

You felt a wave of irritation rising, but before you could say anything, Rafe finally looked at her, “I’m not interested,” he said bluntly, then turned back to you, his eyes softening instantly. “So, what were you saying?”

The sudden change in his demeanor caught you off guard, and you felt your cheeks flush with embarrassment. Luíza, clearly realizing she was getting nowhere, shot you a glare before muttering something under her breath and walking away, her heels clicking sharply on the floor. 

You stared after her, your heart pounding. When you finally turned back to him, he was watching you with an amused expression, as if nothing had happened.

“What the hell was that?” you demanded.

He just shrugged, completely unfazed. “What do you mean?”

“You didn’t have to be so rude to her,” you snapped, though part of you was secretly pleased. “She was just being nice.”

Rafe leaned back in his chair, giving you that infuriatingly calm look. “She wasn’t just being nice, and y’know it.”

You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest. “Still, you could’ve handled it better.”

He smirked, clearly enjoying how flustered you were getting. “Why would I? I wasn’t interested. You know who I want.”

Him and his stupid mouth. 

The directness of his words sent a shiver down your spine. There was no mistaking the meaning behind them, and it made your heart race in a way you hadn’t expected. You opened your mouth to say something, anything, but the words died on your lips. Instead, you just stared at him.

Rafe seemed to take pity on you, leaning forward and lowering his voice. “I’m not playing games here,” his gaze locked onto yours, “You’re the only one I’m interested in. No one else.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, all the doubts and uncertainties you’d been holding onto felt insignificant. You wanted to argue, to tell him off, but the way he was looking at you made it impossible to think straight.

You took a deep breath, clearing your thoughts, “This doesn’t change anything,” you muttered, though even you could hear the lack of conviction in your voice.

“I know.”

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The week had been a blur of exams, stress, and late-night study sessions. Your head was spinning from all the notes, formulas, and flashcards when Rafe found you slumped over your desk in the library.

“You need a break,” he said, gently tapping the back of your chair with his foot.

You sighed, rubbing your tired eyes. “I can’t. I still have two more chapters to get through before tomorrow.”

“Trust me,” Rafe insisted, “Come on sweets, let’s go shoot some hoops.”

You looked at him skeptically. “You know I’m terrible at it.”

“That’s why I’m going to teach you,” he grinned, his confidence contagious. “Come on, you’ve been helping me study all week.”

Reluctantly, you let him pull you out of the library and onto the campus basketball court. It was empty, the sun just beginning to set, casting long shadows across the pavement.

He handed you a basketball, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Okay, show me what you’ve got.”

You dribbled the ball awkwardly, trying to recall the little you knew about the game. When you attempted a shot, the ball sailed way off the mark, bouncing across the court.

He laughed, jogging over to retrieve it. “Alright, not bad for a first try. Lemme show you how it’s done.”

He stood behind you, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his body. His hands guided yours, positioning the ball just right. “Keep your elbows in, aim for the backboard, and follow through with your wrists. Like this.”

You tried to focus on his instructions, but it was difficult with him so close, his breath warm against your ear. You missed him. You made the shot, and though it didn’t go in, it was closer than your last attempt.

“Better!” he encouraged, still holding your hands on the ball. You could feel his heartbeat through your back. 

You turned your head slightly, and your eyes met his. Rafe’s attention dropped to your lips, his grip on the ball tightening. You could see the conflict in his eyes, the same one that had been gnawing at you for days. This wasn’t just friendship—you were aware of that, of course. There was always something more here. 

Without thinking, you stepped back to face him fully, and in that instant, your foot caught on his, throwing you off balance. You fell forward, your hands clutching at his shirt for support as you tumbled against his chest. His strong arms wrapped around you instinctively, steadying you as you both laughed, the moment both awkward and perfect. You were so close now, his face inches from yours, your breath mingling in the space between you. The laughter faded, and so did your common sense, because you didn’t push him away. His hand came up to brush a stray lock of hair from your face, his touch lingering on your cheek.

“Rafe...” you began, but the words caught in your throat.

You knew that look in his face. You knew every little thing about him. It was as if he was asking for permission, waiting for you to make the next move. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, every nerve in your body screaming at you to close the gap between you. But before you could act on it, the sound of voices echoed from the other side of the court, breaking the spell.

Oh god. You were about to ruin everything. 

You both stepped back. Rafe looked away, a pained expression crossing his face, eyes pitched closed as he ran a hand through his hair.

“We should, uh, probably get back to studying.”

“Yeah."

As you walked back to the library, side by side but not quite touching, you couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened if you hadn’t been interrupted. And from the way Rafe kept glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, you knew he was thinking the same thing.

He opened the door for you, his hand brushing yours as you passed. The touch was brief, but it was enough to send your heart racing again. Once inside, you both settled back into your usual spot, surrounded by stacks of books and papers. But studying felt impossible now. Every time you looked up, you caught Rafe’s eyes lingering on you, only for him to quickly look away when you noticed.

After what felt like an eternity of trying—and failing—to focus, he finally broke the silence. “Look, about what happened back there…” He trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “I didn’t mean to make things weird.”

You shook your head quickly, trying to dismiss his concern. “It’s okay.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

No. Not at all. You missed everything about him even when he was standing so close to you.

His fingers drummed against the table as he debated his next words, but you beat him to it.

“It’s just… things are different now,” your attention dropped to the open book in front of you. 

“Different how?” His voice was low, almost tentative, a rare thing for Rafe. He leaned in slightly, waiting for you to elaborate.

You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to look up, “Can we not do this right now? Please? ‘M really tired."

His shoulders slumped. He wanted to argue, to push you for more, but he could see the exhaustion in your eyes—the way this was all taking a toll on you. He nodded slowly, swallowing back the urge to fight.

"Yeah, okay," he leaned back in his chair. "We can just focus on studying."

But neither of you could focus. You kept your eyes on the pages of your book, but the words blurred together, your mind unable to process anything other than the way Rafe was sitting so close yet felt so far away.

Minutes ticked by, the silence between you stretching on, both of you too afraid to break it. You could feel him watching you, his gaze a weight that you couldn’t ignore, but you didn’t dare to look up, not trusting yourself with what you might see in his eyes.

Finally, he sighed, the sound heavy with frustration. "I can’t do this," he muttered under his breath, more to himself than to you.

You glanced up, your heart skipping a beat at the vulnerability on his face. He looked torn, like he was fighting an internal battle that he didn’t know how to win.

"Do what?" 

“Pretend like everything’s fine. Like we’re just friends. Because we’re not, and we both know it."

The honesty in his voice made your throat tighten. You’d been trying so hard to keep things simple, to keep your emotions in check.

“You said you’d take anything I give you. It's been a month.”

Rafe groaned, rubbing his face in frustration. “I know that. And you’re my friend, fuck, you’re my best friend but every time I look at you— I feel like I’m dying.”

“What do you think I feel like?” you snapped, slamming your book shut. “You wanna talk about hurt feelings?

His face paled, and for a moment, he looked as though he might argue back, but then he just sighed, defeated.

“I know, okay? I know I messed up. And I’m not asking for you to forget that,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost broken. “But pretending like we can just go back to being friends is killing me.”

“I don't want to talk about it."

He stared at you, his eyes searching your face for something—anything—that would give him a clue about what you were feeling. But you couldn’t look at him, not with your heart so conflicted, not with the memories of how things used to be clashing so violently with the reality of now.

Finally, you spoke, “I think I need time.”

“Time for what?” he asked, his tone careful, but you could hear the desperation beneath it. He needed to understand, needed to know if there was still hope.

“To be away from you,” You swallowed hard, the words catching in your throat as his face fell into a frown, “Maybe it’s too early.”

He didn’t push you. He just nodded.

“Okay. Take all the time you need,” he said even though you could tell it was killing him to say it. “I’ll be here. Waiting. No matter how long it takes.”

You nodded, unable to say anything else. 

“I think I should go,” you said finally, standing up and gathering your things. You couldn’t handle being around him right now, not when your feelings were exposed.

Rafe stood too, but he didn’t try to stop you. He just watched you with that same look of quiet desperation, as if he was afraid that letting you go now meant losing you forever

“Okay.”

You turned to leave, but then you hesitated, your heart pulling you back. Without turning around, you whispered, “I’ll see you later, Rafe.”

He didn’t respond right away, and for a moment, you weren’t sure if he even heard you. But then he said, “I’ll be here.”

And as you walked away, your chest tight and your thoughts racing, you couldn’t help but wonder if things between you and Rafe could ever really go back to the way they were.

[aliyahwritings]

THE CONTRACTED HEART — Rafe Cameron (08)

MASTERLIST | Basketball Player & Model!Female Reader

Summary: Rafe Cameron, a basketball star, needs a marriage to fix his image, while Model!Reader needs one for citizenship. They may be the perfect solution for each other.

Warnings: smut, descriptions of violence, jealousy, usage of drugs, talks about body image/ed, angst, and lots of bickering. Reader is confident, a people-pleaser, has a traumatic past, and is a sunshine with an attitude. Rafe is a whore, possessive, cocky, and secretive about his past.

Word Count: 6.5k

Aliyah's Notes: i fucking hate this so much. i dont like anything about this chapter but the next chapters are gonna be yummy. hope u enjoy this trash :)

You stepped through the threshold into Rafe’s penthouse, and you were immediately struck by the space—clean, modern, and surprisingly immaculate. The quiet hum of New York City below faded, giving way to a silence you didn’t expect. The place felt polished, with clean lines and a minimalistic aesthetic that was entirely different from the messy and chaotic persona Rafe projected.

The living room opened up to an expansive view of SoHo’s city lights, stretching out in glittering rows beneath the vast windows. Soft, ambient lighting spills over sleek furniture—a large sectional couch in dark charcoal, a glass coffee table with a few tasteful magazines stacked in one corner, and a matching armchair positioned just right. Everything was so... neat. Even his shoes by the entryway were perfectly lined up.

You hesitated just inside the doorway, suddenly hyper-aware of the tension still knotted in your chest. After everything tonight, the walls of this calm, organized space almost seemed to close in around you, amplifying the turmoil still spinning inside your head.

“You can come in, you know,” Rafe’s voice broke the silence, snapping you back to the moment. He was standing beside you, watching as your eyes roved around the room. “Promise, there’s no trapdoor waiting to drop you,” he added, his attempt at humor softening his tone.

You managed a weak smile, stepping fully into the apartment. “Yeah, of course, no—uh, I guess I just… expected it to look different,” you admitted, letting your fingers drift over the cool surface of the console table by the door. There wasn’t a speck of dust anywhere.

“What did you expect?” He grinned, kicking off his own shoes and motioning for you to make yourself comfortable. “Mountain of pizza boxes? A shrine to myself?”

The corner of your mouth lifted, and despite yourself, you chuckled. “Something like that.”

“Thank you.” He placed a hand over his heart with exaggerated gratitude. “I’ve put a lot of work into fooling people into thinking I’m a responsible adult.”

That got another smile out of you, and for a moment, the silence settled into something comfortable. You took a few tentative steps further into the space, letting yourself take in the polished decor, the subtle hints of personality hidden in the smallest details—a leather-bound book resting on the side table, a worn-in baseball cap hanging from a hook by the door, the faintest scent of coffee lingering in the air.

“Here, let me take your jacket,” Rafe offered, holding out a hand. His voice was calm, and there was a warmth in his eyes as he met your gaze. You hesitated, gripping the edges of your coat a little tighter before relenting, letting him slide it off your shoulders and hang it neatly by the entryway.

“Thank you,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

“No problem.” He gave a gentle nod, gesturing toward the couch. “Why don’t you sit for a minute? Or, if you want something to drink, I can grab you some water?”

The idea of sitting felt almost foreign to you, as if your body couldn’t settle even if you tried. “Water sounds nice,” you said, though your voice wavered as you followed him to the plush couch, perching awkwardly at the edge.

Rafe returned a moment later, handing you a glass of water. You muttered a thank you, taking a slow sip as he settled down beside you, keeping a respectful distance. For a while, the two of you just sat in silence, the soft hum of the city outside the only sound filling the space.

After a beat, Rafe broke the silence. “Wow,” he began, glancing sideways at you, “Tonight was insane.”

You nodded slowly, his words sinking in. For a moment, it felt like everything was too quiet, too still, and your mind began to race, searching for something—anything—to fill the silence.

As if sensing your discomfort, Rafe tried to lighten the mood, leaning back and stretching his arms across the couch. “So,” he started, an easy smile playing at his lips, “not to brag, but I make a mean cup of ramen. Best in New York. You hungry?”

The words landed like a trigger, setting off a wave of anxiety that you’d tried so hard to keep at bay. You felt your throat tighten, your heartbeat quickening as an overwhelming rush of emotions began to build. His casual offer had hit a nerve, and suddenly, the walls of the penthouse felt like they were closing in.

“I don’t… I don’t need anything,” you replied sharply, your voice wavering as your grip tightened around the glass of water. But Rafe’s well-meaning gaze didn’t falter, and the pressure inside you began to build, spiraling out of control.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice still gentle, still concerned, as if he wanted to make sure you were truly okay.

The question, that seemingly innocent offer, tore through you like a wound reopening. It was as if he’d taken a crowbar to a door you’d worked so hard to keep shut, prying it open until every raw, painful memory began flooding in, drowning you. Your breaths came faster, shallow, the room closing in around you as you tried to hold yourself together.

“No, I don’t want anything to eat! Why does everyone keep asking me that?” Your voice rose, sharper than you intended, and you could feel yourself teetering on the edge of something dark and manic. The walls seemed to close in around you as the noise in your mind grew louder and louder. “I don’t want to eat! I’m fine, okay? I don’t need anything!”

Rafe’s eyes widened in surprise, and he leaned back slightly, hands raised in a calming gesture. “Whoa, hey… I didn’t mean to upset you. I just thought… maybe you’d want something, that’s all.”

His words were gentle, but they only fueled the fire. “Everyone thinks I need to eat,” you continued, almost hysterical now, your voice shaking. “It’s always about food, isn’t it? Do they think I’m starving, or that I can’t take care of myself? I don’t need anyone to tell me to eat, or to make sure I’m doing it right, or to ask if I’m hungry every five seconds. I can take care of myself. I don’t need—”

Your voice cracked, and suddenly the weight of your own words hit you, the admission cutting deeper than you’d realized. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t stop the flood of emotions that had finally broken free. All of the pressure, the expectations, the shame—it all came crashing down, suffocating you.

Without waiting, you shot to your feet, stumbling as you rushed toward the bathroom. Your breaths were coming in ragged gasps now, your heart hammering in your chest as you slammed the door shut behind you. The mirror loomed in front of you, but you couldn’t bear to look at your reflection, couldn’t face the hollow, haunted expression staring back at you.

Instead, you leaned over the sink, gripping the edges until your knuckles turned white, trying to keep the nausea at bay. But it was too much—the panic, the shame, the weight of Rafe’s eyes on you, seeing everything you’d tried so hard to hide. With a shaky breath, you turned away from the sink and sank to your knees, the familiar wave of nausea rising as the tears spilled over, thick and heavy.

The sound of your own sobs echoed off the tiled walls, and you buried your face in your hands, feeling the last of your composure slip away. It was a battle you’d fought alone for so long, a pain you’d hidden from everyone, even yourself. But here, in this stark, sterile bathroom, the weight of it all felt like too much to bear. The shame, the desperation, the need for control—it all crashed over you like a wave, drowning out everything else until you were left gasping for air.

Your throat burned, and the nausea twisted deep in your stomach, leaving you hunched over the toilet bowl. You gripped the sides of it, trying to will the shame away, trying to breathe through the crushing weight of panic that made it hard to even look up.

Then the door opened, and you froze, shoulders tensing as you felt his presence behind you. You wanted to scream at him to go away, to leave you alone, but before you could, you felt his hands on your back, warm and steady, rubbing gentle circles along your spine.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. I’m here,” he murmured, his voice low and calm, completely different from the usual playful, cocky tone. He crouched beside you, one hand reaching to hold your hair back, careful not to touch your face but close enough to keep it out of your way. It was a kindness you hadn’t expected—a tenderness that caught you off guard, that almost made it harder to keep from crying.

“Rafe…please…just go,” you choked out, voice barely a whisper. “I don’t want you to see me like this.”

But he stayed, his hand warm on your back, grounding you as your breaths came faster, rougher. “I’m not leaving,” he said quietly. “I don’t care about seeing you like this. Just focus on breathing. I’ve got you.”

Your shame deepened, the tears spilling over as the familiar cycle took hold, and you couldn’t stop it. But Rafe was right there, anchoring you, holding your hair gently and murmuring quiet reassurances as you retched, his hand never leaving your back.

When the worst of it passed, you slumped forward, feeling completely spent, the last shreds of your dignity scattered. You could barely bring yourself to lift your head, and when you finally did, you couldn’t bear to look him in the eyes. “You…you should’ve left,” you mumbled, your voice trembling as you wiped at your cheeks with shaky hands.

Rafe ignored your words, shifting so he could reach for a washcloth by the sink. He dampened it with warm water, and before you could protest, he gently tilted your chin, dabbing at your face with a gentleness that almost broke you. “Shh. You don’t have to say anything.”

The warmth of the cloth felt soothing against your skin, and the quiet intimacy of the moment—of Rafe here, with you in your most vulnerable state—left you speechless. He wasn’t supposed to see this side of you. This was meant to be an arrangement, something on paper, and yet here he was, his touch gentle, his gaze filled with an unexpected tenderness that left you feeling more exposed than ever.

Once he finished wiping your face, he reached for a glass of water, holding it out. “Here. Just rinse. You’ll feel better,” he murmured, his voice calm and steady, as though this were the most natural thing in the world.

You managed a weak nod, your hands trembling as you took the glass. After rinsing your mouth, you set it aside, still feeling hollow and raw, the weight of everything pressing down on you. Rafe didn’t pull away. He simply stayed close, watching you with a quiet patience that made your heart ache.

Then he reached into the cabinet, pulling out a tube of toothpaste. He unscrewed the cap, squeezing a bit onto a fresh toothbrush before handing it to you. “Here,” he said softly, his eyes meeting yours. “Trust me, it’ll help.”

His steady presence, his calm, unhurried movements, made it impossible to hide. You took the toothbrush, swallowing hard as you glanced away, barely able to hold back the fresh wave of tears that threatened to spill over. “You…you don’t have to do this,” you murmured, your voice breaking.

“I know,” he replied, his voice a soft murmur as he leaned back against the counter, staying close without crowding you. 

You closed your eyes, brushing your teeth in silence, every movement feeling surreal, like you’d stepped into someone else’s life. Rafe’s presence, his quiet support, felt too real, too genuine. For a moment, you allowed yourself to imagine that it was—all of it. That he was truly here for you, that you weren’t alone.

When you finally rinsed and set the toothbrush aside, he reached over, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “There,” he said, his voice warm. “Better?”

You nodded, though words felt impossible. He offered a soft smile, his hand lingering at the edge of your shoulder. “You’re okay,” he said quietly. “You don’t have to keep this all to yourself, you know?”

You let out a shaky breath, feeling the ache of those words settle deep inside you. This was supposed to be fake—a carefully crafted arrangement, a performance for the public eye. Yet here he was, holding you in a way that felt so real it hurt.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, barely able to get the words out.

He shook his head, brushing a tear from your cheek with his thumb. “It’s all right. You don’t need to apologize.” For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence settling around you like a gentle blanket. Then, he tilted his head toward the hallway, his voice low and warm. “Come on, let me show you where you’ll be sleeping. You look exhausted.”

You nodded, the fight in you all but gone, and let him guide you down the hall.

He led you down the hallway off the living room, his hand light on your shoulder as if he was afraid to push too hard, but still determined to keep you steady. The quiet around you felt different now, no longer suffocating, but soothing. The weight of your earlier breakdown lingered, and you were acutely aware of his presence, the warmth of his hand anchoring you even as your mind replayed your outburst. But he said nothing, just kept moving forward, offering a silent comfort that, strangely, made you feel safe.

He opened the door to a room on the right, flipping on the light to reveal what appeared to be his guest room—if it could be called that. The room was filled with clutter: a stack of boxes against one wall, a few stray bags on the floor, and clothes that hadn’t quite made it into the closet. It was the only part of his home that didn’t feel curated, and you almost laughed at the mess, a strange relief filling you at the imperfection.

Rafe rubbed the back of his neck, looking almost embarrassed as he glanced around the room. “I, uh, haven’t really had the time to keep this room… organized,” he admitted, shooting you an apologetic smile. “Usually, it’s just storage, but—well, it has a bed.” He gestured to a neatly made bed tucked into the far corner, the only part of the room untouched by the chaos.

A small, involuntary smile tugged at your lips. “No, it’s perfect.”

Rafe’s expression softened, his hand dropping to his side as he watched you. “Good. I’m glad,” he said quietly. He took a step back, giving you some space as he gestured to the dresser by the wall. “There should be some extra blankets in there if you get cold, and if you need anything else…” He hesitated, meeting your eyes. “Just let me know. I’ll be right down the hall. Or, actually,” he added, seeming to correct himself, “I’ll probably be downstairs on the couch, but I’ll leave the door open. You know, just in case.”

What he didn’t say was that he couldn’t shake the worry gnawing at him. After seeing your outburst, and watching you throw up, he couldn’t bring himself to fully leave your side. He’d stay close enough to hear the slightest sound from your room, ready to be there if you needed him. The open door was his quiet reassurance: he wanted to be close enough to protect you, to do anything possible if the night took a turn.

You nodded, a quiet understanding passing between you. Despite everything, despite the tension and confusion that had brought you here, there was an undeniable comfort in his presence tonight.

Rafe lingered in the doorway for a moment, watching as you settled onto the edge of the bed, hands twisting nervously in your lap. You were still reeling from everything, still shaky, but the exhaustion was starting to settle in, weighing your limbs down. He looked at you, something unspoken flickering in his eyes, before he gave you a small nod and turned to go.

But just as he was about to close the door behind him, he paused. “Oh, wait. Here.” He pulled open a drawer in a nearby cabinet and took out a plain, oversized T-shirt, holding it out to you. “Thought you might want something more comfortable to sleep in.”

The kindness of the gesture caught you off guard, and for a moment, you just stared at the shirt in his hands, your heart unexpectedly warm.

“Thank you, Rafe,” you murmured, taking the shirt from him. The fabric was soft between your fingers, worn in a way that felt comforting.

He gave a soft, almost shy smile. “Anytime. Get some rest, alright?”

You nodded, watching as he closed the door halfway, leaving it just slightly ajar, a sliver of light from the hallway casting a gentle glow across the room.

Once alone, you changed into the shirt, the fabric falling around you in a way that was oddly comforting, like being wrapped in a part of him. You slid under the blankets, pulling them up to your chin, and tried to focus on the steady rhythm of your breathing. But even with the warmth of the bed and the security of the walls around you, sleep wouldn’t come. Every time you closed your eyes, your mind replayed the events of the night.

Minutes ticked by, each one stretching longer than the last. You tossed and turned, shifting under the blankets as you tried to settle, but your mind wouldn’t quiet, the unease creeping back in. Finally, with a sigh, you sat up, clutching the edge of the blanket as you tried to weigh your options.

You could hear the faint murmur of the TV downstairs, the soft hum of sound carrying through the quiet penthouse. Something about it felt reassuring, like a reminder that you weren’t alone here, even if everything in your mind felt isolated and dark.

Almost on autopilot, you slipped out of bed and padded toward the door, pulling it open quietly as you stepped into the hallway. Your feet moved almost without thinking, carrying you toward the staircase and down into the living room, where Rafe lay sprawled on the couch, his gaze fixed on the TV. He looked comfortable, one arm draped over his head, his eyes half-closed, the flickering light from the screen casting shadows across his face.

As you approached, he noticed you, his expression shifting from surprise to a warm smile. “Can’t sleep?” he asked, sitting up a little, his tone gentle.

You shook your head, wrapping your arms around yourself as you stopped just a few feet away. “I… I just couldn’t quiet my mind.” You hesitated, glancing at the empty space beside him on the couch. “Would you mind if I… joined you?”

Rafe’s eyes softened, and he patted the cushion next to him. “Of course. Here, take a seat.”

You eased down beside him, feeling the warmth of his presence as he settled back, his arm stretching out along the back of the couch. For a while, you just sat there in silence, the quiet hum of the TV filling the space between you.

After a moment, you took a steadying breath, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. “I’m sorry… about earlier. About… the way I reacted.” Your voice trembled slightly, and you kept your gaze fixed on your hands, avoiding his eyes.

Rafe shook his head, his tone firm but gentle. “You don’t need to apologize, Y/N. Not for that.”

You managed a weak smile, feeling a twinge of relief at his understanding. “It’s just… sometimes I feel like everyone’s always watching me. Watching what I eat, what I do, how I look.” The confession felt raw, vulnerable, but sitting here with him in the dim light, it felt almost safe.

Rafe’s gaze was steady, attentive, as he listened to you, his hand resting on the back of the couch just inches from your shoulder. “I get it,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “Sometimes it feels like no matter what you do, someone’s waiting for you to slip up.”

You glanced at him, surprised by the understanding in his eyes. “I… I guess. I didn’t expect you to understand.”

Rafe’s expression turned thoughtful, almost pained, as he shifted, his gaze dropping to his hands. “I know that feeling more than I’d like to admit. It’s like… I’m always trying to be someone for my family, or at least… the son my dad wanted. And after my mom died…” He hesitated, his voice catching slightly, and he looked away as if he was afraid to let you see the rawness in his eyes. “I guess I felt like I had to fill a space I didn’t even know how to reach.”

Your heart twisted, a soft ache blooming as you watched him open up. You saw him differently in that moment, the weight of expectations he carried, the vulnerability he kept hidden behind the confident mask he showed the world. Slowly, you reached over, placing your hand over his, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingers. “I’m so sorry, Rafe. I didn’t realize…”

“It’s okay,” he murmured, his voice gentle. “It’s not something I talk about much. But… I guess it feels different with you.” His thumb brushed against your hand, the light touch sending a warmth through you that you couldn’t ignore. There was something in his eyes, something unspoken, a tenderness you hadn’t seen before, and it made your heart beat just a little faster.

The warmth in his voice, the sincerity, made your chest tighten in a way you hadn’t expected.

You managed a small smile, feeling a strange warmth settle over you. “Thank you, Rafe… for tonight. Really.”

He reached over, gently placing a hand over yours, his touch reassuring, grounding. “Anytime.” His voice was low, sincere, and the intensity in his eyes made your heart race, a warmth spreading through your chest that you couldn’t quite ignore. “I know this started out as a… as a deal, but I’d be more than happy to talk to your family, if that would help.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you felt a softness in your chest that you hadn’t felt in so long. No one had ever made an effort like this for you. You squeezed his hand gently, meeting his gaze with a warmth that mirrored his own. “Thank you, Rafe.”

For a long moment, you just looked at each other, the quiet intimacy of the night wrapping around you, pulling you closer. His thumb traced slow, comforting circles over your hand, the warmth of his touch sending a thrill through you that you hadn’t expected. You didn’t know when it had happened, but something had shifted between you. 

As the quiet settled around you, the intensity of the moment began to ease, replaced by a warmth that made you feel unexpectedly at peace. Rafe still had his hand over yours, his thumb brushing soft, idle circles across your knuckles, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth as he looked at you.

“What?” you asked, noticing the spark of amusement in his eyes.

He shrugged, leaning back a little, though his hand didn’t leave yours. “I don’t know… you just have this look right now. It’s kind of cute.”

You laughed, rolling your eyes. “Yeah, right. After everything tonight, ‘cute’ is the last thing I’d call myself.”

Rafe’s smile softened, and his eyes held a kind of warmth that made your chest flutter. “No, seriously,” he said, his voice low and sincere. “You’re always beautiful, but right now… it’s like you’re letting go of something. And that’s what’s cute. You’ve got this calm about you, like you’re finally breathing easy.”

You blushed at his words, warmth spreading across your face. “I… I don’t even know what to say to that.”

“Say nothing,” he replied softly, his thumb still tracing small circles over your skin. “Just let me say something. I’ve been a mess lately… and I know I’ve been distant.” He hesitated for a moment, his gaze flickering away. “I owe you an explanation. About ghosting. The last two weeks… I know I hurt you.”

Then, just as you were about to look away, unsure of where this was going, Rafe continued; “I’m sorry for disappearing on you. I should’ve talked to you, explained. But I didn’t know how. I still don’t really know how…” He trailed off, his voice faltering for the first time since you’d sat down. “I didn’t want to mess things up, and I thought that if I kept my distance, it’d be easier.”

The honesty in his words made something ache in your chest, but it wasn’t just frustration anymore. There was understanding there too, a quiet sympathy for the walls he had built around himself, the things he wasn’t willing to confront until now.

“Why didn’t you just tell me that?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly. “Why pull away?”

Rafe’s lips twisted into a rueful smile. “I don’t know, Y/N. I don’t know why I do half the shit I do sometimes.” He shook his head. “But I didn’t want you to think I was using you. I didn’t want you to think this was just about the deal. Because it isn’t,” his gaze meeting yours, and the vulnerability in his eyes hit you like a wave. “Something happened,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “With my family.”

You frowned, trying to make sense of what he meant. “What do you mean?”

He let out a long breath, like the words were difficult to get out. “It’s about my dad—but it’s… more than that.” His fingers traced the edge of the couch, his eyes avoiding yours as he searched for the right words. “I didn’t want you to see me like this. I didn’t want you to think I was a mess.” He paused, then let out a humorless laugh, almost bitter. “But I am.”

Your heart sank as you watched him, the walls he had built around himself starting to crumble in front of you. Rafe’s eyes were distant now, focused on something you couldn’t see.

“My dad called me two weeks ago,” he continued, his voice tight. “He’s always… well, he's always trying to control everything. He told me I had to come to this meeting with him—something about my career and how I was handling things, how I’m not living up to the expectations he set.” He shook his head, a frustrated sigh escaping him. “But that wasn’t the worst part. It wasn’t just him. It was my stepmom, too. They’ve been pushing for me to change, to be more like my sister. She’s got this perfect life, the one my dad’s always wanted for me. And I don’t know how to explain it, but that day, I just… I couldn’t take it. I couldn’t keep pretending I was someone I’m not. So I shut off my phone. I just…” His voice trailed off as his hand dropped into his lap, the frustration still evident in the tension in his shoulders.

You listened in silence, the weight of his words sinking in. You had always seen Rafe as someone in control—confident, cocky, never afraid to face any challenge. But now, sitting here beside him, you saw a side of him you hadn’t expected. A side that was raw, real, and 2human.

“I couldn’t talk to you because I didn’t know how to handle it,” Rafe admitted, his voice softer now, more vulnerable. “I saw your texts. All of them. I just… I didn’t know what to say. I thought if I ignored it, it would be easier. But it wasn’t. And I’m sorry. I hurt you, and I should’ve been better. I should’ve communicated. I don’t expect you to just forgive me right away, but…” He paused, taking a deep breath.

Your chest tightened as you processed everything he was saying. It wasn’t just about the deal anymore, and it never had been. It was about everything he had kept buried deep inside of him—the weight of his family’s expectations, the pressure of trying to live up to something he couldn’t even define.

“I… I don’t know what to say either,” you whispered, your voice shaking a little. “You’ve hurt me, Rafe. You disappeared for two weeks without a word, and I didn’t know why. And it wasn’t just the silence—it was the feeling that I wasn’t even worth telling the truth to.”

Rafe’s expression softened, and he looked like he might say something, but you raised your hand to stop him, needing him to understand before he tried to apologize again.

“But I get it now,” you continued, voice a little stronger. “I get that it wasn’t about me. It wasn’t because of something I did. And maybe that helps, a little. But I can’t just pretend it didn’t hurt, Rafe. I’m not that strong.”

His eyes flickered with regret, and he nodded slowly. “I know. And I’m sorry. I really am.” He was still so vulnerable, still unsure of what the next step was, but something in his eyes—something raw and genuine—made you believe him.

The room fell into silence again, but this time it wasn’t the same heavy silence. There was understanding, there was pain—but there was also the unspoken possibility of moving forward. You weren’t sure where it was going, or what would happen after this, but for the first time in two weeks, you didn’t feel completely lost. You could see the cracks in him, and maybe, just maybe, you could help him heal them.

Rafe was leaning close, his hand resting over yours, fingers brushing softly. His thumb traced lazy circles across your skin, it felt like a reassurance. His gaze flickered down to your lips before meeting your eyes again, and you could see the hesitation there, the uncertainty, but also the longing.

You could feel the way your body responded to him. The way your chest tightened, how your breath hitched every time his thumb brushed your hand. And then, as if something finally clicked between you both, you leaned in, closing the distance just a little bit more.

Rafe’s eyes flickered down to your lips again, and this time, there was no hesitation. His hand, still covering yours, shifted until his fingers curled gently around your wrist, guiding you closer. His breath brushed against your skin as he closed the space between you, his lips hovering just inches from yours.

You both paused, breath mingling, sharing the same fragile moment. His eyes searched yours one last time, like he was trying to read you, to make sure you were truly there with him, in this moment. And then, without another word, his lips brushed against yours—a gentle touch, hesitant, as if he was testing the waters.

But when your lips met, it was like everything inside of you unraveled. His kiss was soft but insistent, like he couldn’t hold back any longer, like this was the one thing that could break through all the tension, all the confusion, all the weight of the unspoken things. And you kissed him back without thinking, without second-guessing, as if everything inside of you had been waiting for this exact moment.

His free hand lifted, gently cupping your face, his thumb grazing over your cheek as his lips pressed harder against yours. The kiss deepened, a slow, aching rhythm that made your heart race. You could feel the emotions, the vulnerability, the rawness in every touch, in every second of the kiss.

When you finally pulled away, it was only just enough to breathe. You rested your forehead against his, both of you trying to catch your breath. His eyes were closed for a moment, as if savoring the closeness, before he opened them, meeting your gaze once again.

“So…” You began, your voice light but purposeful. “About this whole marriage thing.”

Rafe blinked, pulling back, looking at you with a raised eyebrow. “What about it?” 

You smirked, feeling the words roll off your tongue before you could stop them. “I don’t know, I just keep thinking about how weird it’s going to be to call you ‘husband.’”

The effect was immediate. Rafe froze for a second, his gaze locking on yours, wide-eyed, as though the word had sent a shock through him. You noticed the way his breath caught, the way his hand tensed around yours, and the flush creeping up his neck.

“Wait, what?” He stammered, trying to mask the surprise but failing. “You’re—seriously, you just said ‘husband’ like it was nothing?”

You raised an eyebrow, your lips curling into a teasing smile. “Well, it is a word I’m going to have to get used to, right? You’re going to be stuck with it, whether you like it or not.”

Rafe let out a low, almost nervous laugh, but you could see the way his mind was clearly spiraling as he tried to regain his composure. “Yeah, well… I mean, it’s just—uh, it’s a little weird to hear it come out of your mouth. You know? ‘Husband.’”

You couldn’t help but smirk at the way he was tripping over his words, clearly caught off guard by the casualness with which you said it. 

“Oh, I’m sure it’ll feel more natural once we’re actually married.” You gave him a wink, knowing exactly how to throw him off balance.

But Rafe was looking at you differently now, his eyes softening as they flickered over your face. You could see the way his jaw clenched and unclenched, his gaze lingering on your lips before he snapped his focus back to your eyes, clearly struggling to rein in whatever thoughts were spinning in his mind.

And then, as though he couldn’t contain it anymore, he leaned in suddenly, pressing his lips to the side of your face, just below your ear. It was a quick, almost frantic kiss, like he couldn’t resist any longer. The next moment, his lips were on your temple, then your cheek, the soft, warm press of his mouth against your skin like an involuntary response.

You blinked, taken aback by the suddenness of it all, but a small, surprised laugh escaped you. “What was that about?” you asked, breathless from the unexpected affection.

Rafe pulled back, his expression almost shy now, like he hadn’t meant to do it but couldn’t stop himself. “I don’t know,” he muttered under his breath, not quite looking you in the eye. “You just… you said it again. And you looked so fucking pretty right now. I couldn’t hold myself back.” He was talking to himself more than to you, the words tumbling out as his hand found its way back to yours, his fingers curling around yours as though grounding himself.

You were silent for a moment, studying him with a mixture of amusement and something else—a warmth that spread in your chest, a recognition that maybe, just maybe, this whole marriage thing wasn’t so bad after all. His reaction was unexpected, but it made something stir in you. You felt a little giddy at the way he was reacting, the way he was unraveling in front of you. There was something so raw about it.

“Rafe,” you said softly, your voice teasing but with a deeper hint of affection now. “You’re really freaking out over the word ‘husband’?”

He gave you a sheepish look, a little embarrassed but still leaning in a little closer, as if he couldn’t help himself. “It just—did something to me, okay?” His voice dropped to a low whisper, eyes flicking from your lips to your eyes. “I don’t know. The way you said it… made me feel something I wasn’t ready for.”

Before you could respond, he kissed your cheek again, this time slow, deliberate, as if he was trying to savor the moment. He pulled back just enough to glance at you, his lips brushing against your skin as he murmured, “I swear, you’re killing me with that word.”

And then, almost without thinking, you whispered the word again, dragging it out just a little for dramatic effect. “Husband…”

His eyes closed at the sound, his breath catching in his throat. His reaction was instant. His hands cupped your face just as you had done, and suddenly, his lips were everywhere—across your forehead, along your jawline, down the side of your neck—each kiss soft, urgent, as if he couldn’t get enough. It wasn’t frantic, but it was definitely filled with a need that he wasn’t trying to hide anymore.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly between his kisses, your heart racing from the sweetness of it all. “Rafe,” you murmured through your laughter, “are you okay?”

He pulled back for a second, his forehead resting against yours as he let out a breathless chuckle. “Am I okay?” His voice was soft, almost incredulous. “I’m better than okay. I’m…” He stopped, looking at you with a look that was so intense, so unguarded, you felt it in your bones. “I’m kind of losing my mind over you right now, sweetheart.”

Your heart skipped a beat, the warmth in his eyes catching you off guard. The words hung in the air, a confession he hadn’t meant to make but couldn’t help. You swallowed hard, trying to keep your own composure. This wasn’t the time for heavy emotions, not when things were still so uncertain between you both.

But as you looked at him, his lips still slightly parted, his breath mingling with yours, you couldn’t deny the pull that had formed between you, something that felt more real than the arrangement you had set out to create.

“So… about that husband thing,” you said, a teasing smile curving your lips. “You sure you can handle it?”

Rafe chuckled, pulling you a little closer, his hands now resting on your waist as his eyes softened. “I’m starting to think I might be in trouble.”

“Trouble?” You raised an eyebrow, playfully narrowing your eyes. “Only if you keep kissing me like that. Otherwise, you’re fine.”

He smirked, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. “Good to know,” he whispered, “I’ll make sure to keep kissing you then.”

chapter nine

[aventurineswife]

aventurine, sunday, and any others when reader pretends to not remember them after a bad injury hehe…[angst with fluff at the end] i love giving my poor babies heart attacks mwahaha

anyways love u and ur writings btw k byeee drink water ok byeee 💕✨

“I'm sorry, but who are you?”

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Sunday x Reader, Ratio x Reader, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Soft Fluff, Light Humor Angst to Fluff, Established Relationship, Memory Loss, Reassurance.

Warnings: Emotional distress (brief moments of fear and confusion).

A/N: thanks for the reminder, anon! 😪😮‍💨I really need to drink some water

Aventurine's eyes widened, his usual playful smirk faltering as you looked at him, confusion clouding your gaze. He reached out, as though instinctively wanting to close the distance between you, but he hesitated. Your words cut through the air, soft and fragile.

"You… you are… who exactly?"

The words stung more than he expected. His heart raced in his chest as he observed the faint, distant look in your eyes. He had always been in control of the game, masterful in reading people, but this? This was a blow to his carefully constructed facade.

"You don’t remember me?" His voice was softer now, the bravado slipping as his pulse quickened.

You shook your head, an empty feeling creeping into your chest. "I don’t think so. Sorry… am I supposed to?"

Aventurine's smile faltered, and for a moment, you saw something raw beneath his cool exterior. Pain. Fear. He stepped back slightly, trying to hide the cracks forming in his walls.

"I suppose I’ve miscalculated…" he muttered to himself, voice barely audible.

But then, you reached out and touched his arm gently.

"I—"

Aventurine looked at you, his breath catching in his throat as you softly smiled. "I do remember you, though. Maybe I was just… testing you?"

The game was on again, but this time, it was different. He chuckled, a soft, relieved sound that made the weight of his worries lift just a little.

"You're dangerous, you know that?" he said, his voice returning to its usual lighthearted tone, though there was an underlying tenderness now.

You smiled. "I think I’ll keep you on your toes."

And with that, the shadows of doubt lifted, replaced by the warmth of your presence—one he could no longer imagine being without.

Sunday stood there, his eyes darkened with a mix of concern and confusion, staring at you as if you were a stranger. His fingers twitched slightly, an impulse to reach out, to make sure you were real, that you hadn’t slipped into some other world.

"You… you don’t recognize me?" he asked, his voice almost a whisper, fragile under the weight of his own disbelief.

You blinked at him, the blank look in your eyes unnerving him more than he cared to admit. "I’m sorry… I don’t think I do. Are we… close?"

The air between you seemed to freeze, thick with unspoken emotions. His mind was racing—how could you forget him, forget everything you had shared? The kindness, the warmth, the bond he’d built so carefully with you...

"I see," Sunday murmured, his gaze softening with a hint of sadness. "I suppose it’s a part of the dream, isn't it? To forget… to lose everything."

You could see the strain in his expression, the hope fading from his eyes. "Sunday, I… I didn’t mean to forget you."

You reached for him, your hand trembling as you touched his sleeve. The contact seemed to pull him out of his thoughts, and his breath caught.

A moment of stillness.

Then Sunday smiled faintly, the sadness still lingering. "I suppose we’ll just have to make you remember, won't we?" His voice was gentle, though you could hear the underlying fear in it.

You smiled, this time with a reassurance he needed. "I think I already do."

A sigh escaped him, a soft, grateful breath as he pulled you into his arms.

"Don't ever scare me like that again." he murmured into your hair, holding you close.

Ratio’s usual air of unshakable confidence was nowhere to be seen. He stood before you, his eyes wide with confusion and an almost frantic edge to his movements.

"You—don’t remember me?" he repeated, his voice betraying a crack he hadn’t expected.

You stared at him, trying to piece together the fragments of the world around you, the details of his appearance leaving you more unsettled than anything. "I… I’m sorry, I don’t think I know you."

His frown deepened, his expression unreadable but filled with something you couldn't quite place—was it hurt? Disbelief?

"I see. This is… unfortunate," he said, voice smooth yet tinged with something that didn’t fit. He folded his arms over his chest, eyes narrowing slightly. "I expected better from your memory."

You looked at him more closely, sensing a vulnerability underneath the sharpness of his demeanor. He was, despite his intellectual brilliance, losing himself in this.

You took a step closer, closing the distance between you, your hand reaching for his, gently catching his wrist. "I’m sorry… but I’m sure we’ve met before. I just—"

He paused, his sharp breath catching in his throat as he looked down at your hand on his. For a brief moment, his composure cracked, and you could see the raw emotion behind his usually controlled facade.

"Don't do this to me," he whispered, his voice barely audible, as if the weight of the situation was too much to bear. "You must remember."

You smiled softly, understanding now. "I remember. You’re the one who always insists on teaching me things."

His gaze softened instantly, a relieved exhale leaving him. "Good."

Ratio’s usual brilliance returned, but this time, there was something gentler about him. "Perhaps next time, try not to lose your memory so easily."

And though his words were sharp, his hand reached out to take yours, a reassurance that you were not lost to him.

Me lmaoo

[yndrgrl]

your boyfriend, katsuki bakugo, loves you dearly, but you're scared you'll never be deserving of him

cute lil dabble. lowkey songfic. fem! reader. angst to comfort. fluff. established relationship. any au. overthinking! reader.

warnings: there are none :D

a/n: picture a "too sweet" by hozier girl x "i wanna be yours" by arctic monkeys boy relationship !

-

katsuki is always characterized as hostile yet calculating, a man who knows exactly what he wants. he's destined to be the top of the food chain, everyone knows it. he's powerful man with a deadly gorgeous face, his fangirls would describe.

& in comes you. plain old you.

you honestly have no idea what katsuki sees in you. like, if you're digging deep in yourself, maybe he likes your for your dark, crude sense of humor that always seems to make him belly laugh.

it's said that he's an early bird. he's awake before you every single day, asleep & sound by 8:30-- on the weekends, he'll push it to 10:00. before you've said your first words of the day, he's already made his side of the bed, made & ate breakfast, put away the laundry, & is off to his morning run after his morning workout. his good habits he's developed early in life has benefited him in every way.

he never procrastinated on chores, his paper work is flawless, & you could learn a thing or two from his time management skills. he's always making time for spontaneous dates you wanna go on, festivals you wanna visit, & he makes sure that the pantry is stacked with your favorite snacks. any of your interests are his interests, even if he doesn't fully understand it.

when it comes to katsuki, you ought to wonder if he ever wants to experience something different from his strict, repetitive lifestyle. you sometimes feel stupid for wanting more out; you want to travel somewhere far away, you want to go out clubbing with a bunch of strangers, you want to move to the country side & live in a cottage. katsuki always reels in your dreams, encouraging you but also reminding you that you need to stay consistent to achieve them. you're jealous with how fast he can accept reality.

"babe? you listening?" katsuki questioned, snapping you out of your thoughts. you blinked a couple of times then nodded almost-too enthusiastically. he let out a little chuckle & stroked your cheek with his thumb. "what're you thinking about?"

"nothing, i'm sorry," you sighed with your hands in your lap. you both were on the couch, doing your own thing. he was on his phone, & you were supposed to be doing some work on your laptop, but you found yourself spacing out again.

"don't apologize. i'm just curious about what's going on in that pretty, little head of yours," he told you before he took your hand & pressed his lips against your knuckles. you thought to yourself, i'm not good enough for this man.

you debated whether or not to tell the truth. on one side, he has been your devoted boyfriend for years now, but on the other, he could just be asking out of curtesy. like, what if he actually does not care at all- "(y/n)? talk to me. i know you have something you wanna say," katsuki commented, scooting closer to you. he set the pillow that you placed your laptop on the coffee table so he could get your undivided attention. he caressed your thigh to help ground you.

you stayed silent for a moment, & he waited patiently. you swallowed, your eyes darted from his piercing red ones to the floor to his hands. finally, you said, "you're too sweet for me." he laughed & laughed, & you couldn't help but crack a smile. "what? what's so funny?" you pouted.

"sorry for laughing, princess. it's just no one ever calls me sweet. like, ever," admitted katsuki as he settled down from his fit of laughter. what he said was true though, he didn't have a problem with it. he was not sweet at all, he was rough around the edges & egotistical with the skills to back him up. he only ever thinks about himself & you. "but what makes you say that, hm?"

"well, for one, you always treat me out & take me anywhere i want. we never go where you wanna go," you pointed out, jabbing your finger in his toned chest playfully.

"that doesn't make me sweet. i have the money, & i don't fuckin' care about where we go to eat."

you chose to ignore him, rolling your eyes at him because that was his excuse every time. "two, you're literally in the prime of your life, & you choose to go to sleep at 8:30? how do you sleep so well?"

"(y/n), what is this really about?" he questioned. katsuki brushed your hair away from your face, tucking the silky strands behind your ear. "& don't lie to me, i know you."

"ugh, fineee," you groaned as you threw your head back. maybe it was for comedic effect, or to gather your thoughts & regulate the tears that started to well in your eyes. "do you think i'm like, worthy of you?"

"worthy of me?"

"yeah, do you think i'm good enough for you?" you rephrased, pulling your hands away from him to rub your upper arm. it's embarrassing to admit something, it's scary too. what if, once you point it out, he'll agree & leave you?

"'course i do! i'm the best around & i got the best fuckin' girl, why are you thinking this shit?" katsuki exclaimed, his passion that you wish you had seeping through to his tone. a moment of thick silence followed, you took a deep breath. you suck at emotions.

"you're too good for me, okay! you're so much stronger than everyone, & if that wasn't enough, you're insanely smart! i'm just... here. average at best. people praise you like the morning after an eternity of darkness. you're the rain after a heatwave. everything works out for you, & i'm just the one holding you back from even better things-"

"babe, you're not holding me back or whatever. you've never held me back," he stated like it was a fact, but you felt as though he was just saying that to calm you down. it angered you, & you were ashamed that you were angry because it wasn't even directed at him, it was directed at the fact you felt unworthy.

"no, you don't get it! i aim low because it's realistic for me, i can't afford to aim for anything else because i'm destined to fail. you, on the other hand... you have so much potential. don't you get embarrassed about having a girlfriend like me?"

"no." he answered so quickly, like it was rehearsed, like he knew what you were going to say. "i've never felt embarrassed of you ever. you're so fuckin' dense, you know that?"

you paused just to stare at him. katsuki sure had a way with comforting people. even after years of being a hero, he never learned how to traditionally comfort people. tough love, everyone would call it. but with you, he forced himself to be tender because you deserve treatment no one else gets from him.

there were so many things he wanted to say to you. don't you realize what you do for him? god, katsuki would go mad living without you now that he knows what life is like with you, his missing rib. the two of you are meant to be, you're two sides of the same coin. so what if he's as bright as the morning? you were his darling night, the very universe was visible through your eyes.

"you must be dense if you really thing you're just average. would i go for an average girl?"

"i mean-"

"no, the answer is no. you're deserving of love, my love. everything you've accomplished, everything you've overcome, you're just diminishing it because what? you think you're dumb or something? you- you..." you're the reason my world goes round, you are so talented, he was so desperate to shout these praises at you.

he was never one for romantic gestures through words. if he did, he would've been the best damn poet in the game. "i am yours."

it was such a simple sentence, yet it shook you to the core. you stared into his lively, crimson eyes. the look he gave you in return made your breath hitch; he was so deeply devoted to you, as deep as the pacific ocean.

you leaned in, capturing him in a kiss. tears rolled down your cheeks, your despair melting away. you felt like the two of you were kids again, sharing your first kiss. how could you doubt a man who so clearly, who so desperately, loves every bit of you.

[elvirable]

Instincts

[ Astarion x f!Reader/Tav ] | ao3 link

rating: explicit | word count: 3.7k | status: complete themes/tags: vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, creampie, feelings realization, denial of feelings, light angst at the end, you know the sex scene after the tiefling party?, yeah so this is it, with astarions pov, already catching feelings smh, smut is halfway through, just skip to after all early dialogue

----------------------------------------------------

Little did he know that evening, that was the beginning of his simple plan crumbling apart.

In other words: Astarion has been struggling to balance century-long instincts with newfound feelings, an undeniable connection. He carries out his simple little plan as intended, but meets complications he didn't quite expect. ----------- A/N: so i hung up my cod medals of honor to write this.. i've been playing for a month now. originally posted without proofreading, but its now edited for grammar and some terms -----

It was hard not to have fun around you.

Something of a child-like giddiness would buzz through his nerves whenever you sauntered over, his marbled red eyes wouldn't dare to miss a beat of the vision you were. Swaying hips and that deceivingly coy face. Of course, you were strikingly beautiful – a wickedly delectable sight – but that wasn’t the only source of his carnal anticipation.

It was just you, the enigmatic little thing you were. 

Admittedly, Astarion believed he had read you like an open book the moment he laid eyes on you. It was an instinct of his: gathering a cerebral repository of notable ticks and body language, facial twitches, and octave changes in those around him. Watchful, constant observations.

He had chalked you up to a sort of stoic character at first. Graceful, to a degree, in your manner of subtly balancing the world around you. A stable composure, quick and quiet without brash or idle chatter.. unlike that Gale. You were a less flagrantly repulsive hero-type crafted in his mind – but he had still expected you to be oh-so predictable with a shallow drive for self-emaciating ‘justice’. Whereas the others wore their baggage like a garment, you held your cards close to your chest – like a chameleon suddenly thrust into the spotlight.

Yet the sun rose and fell two or three times around the wilderness of Elturel, when he found himself pleasantly contradicted. He normally didn’t dedicate much attention towards someone he believed he so easily pegged, but his interest began to pique. Just enough to leave him sitting with an edge and a consuming desire to peer in closer. 

Maybe it was the way your mouth twitched into a quiet smile during his verbal antics on the road or the firm passiveness you held from the blighted village to the drama of Emerald Grove; an intoxicatingly confusing blend of traits you harbored. The closer he watched you, the less blurred you became. You didn’t fear being authentic and enforcing boundaries to those who attempted to use you – but you weren’t cruel; you met the world around you just as it was, without discrimination. No unnecessary harm, no free handouts either. 

Or perhaps it was your sarcastic remarks that stirred what little glee he had in him; an especially delicious and refreshing insight into your humor. While he could care to give a critical note or two on your lack of blatant cruelty, Astarion respected your compelling demeanor; he witnessed how all these companions turned their eyes so frequently to you with decision.

But what he did know for sure was the eye contact.

Gods, the first time your heads swiveled mid-strife and your gazes locked with a rich crackle – the memory alone was enough to stupefy him! Something strange stirred, something that didn’t sit comfortably. He didn’t know  what to make of it.

With all this said, that same sensation boiled inside his stomach as he mulled over his every interaction with you. He recalled that moment of midnight – when all was still and you had caught him prepared to taste your throat. Your wary stare pierced through him, washing away briefly the desperate pangs of blood-thirst and left him feeling.. nervous. 

Ugh, how he despised the feeling. 

He was sickened when all those ledgers of observations caved in on himself, caught in his pale throat. He had taken such an overwhelming liking to you – to the extent, he had realized, that he was drawn to your guidance, your approval; a repulsive frustration at the time enough to coil through his cold veins. Without much to say, however, he was adamantly relieved when you conceded and soon regularly allowed him to drink from your slender neck. 

His trail of thoughts glossed over your stifled grunts onto the following morning: when you came to his defense as everyone felt the need to chime in with their unfettered prejudices. And how his ease, his excitement around you became persistently potent – a fresh energy that filled him as you spurred on his teasings and whims. Astarion noticed your subtle release of your ever-strong walls, just enough so he could relish in your humor and affable side.

There was always a hesitation at doting on the sensation that rose inside him at these thoughts of you. He surmised he was merely back in the practice; where he spun honeyed words and charmingly guile eye contact, to wrap his target around his finger. Any little edge of control he could grasp onto, the familiar taste of influence he used to know so well. These habits of two hundred years were kicking in. He’d play the part and – sooner or later – this eagerness to please would be reversed onto you.

Whether it was his own willful denial or the culmination of fate’s ever-spinning thread, the first crumble began the night of the tiefling party.

.

Cool and clear was the star-freckled night. Everything was too merry for him: the wide-toothed grins of the tieflings, sharp strums of the lute, the chatter. Even the wine was downright awful, pungent and tart like vinegar. 

Astarion would’ve normally indulged in his bitter mood, but it was the sight of your drunken smile that diffused his prior desire to complain.

How interesting, he thought as his eyes lapped up your squinted grin and eased laughter. It was helplessly infectious to see you so earnest, casually prattling on in conversation throughout the camp. 

Red eyes followed while you made your rounds, encouraging the tiefling’s dancing lights spell and conversing with the bard. Astarion even raised a brow at the playful expression that washed over your face as you spoke to the hulking druid by the name of Halsin.  When you strolled over to Shadowheart and he caught that carefully provocative glint in the raven-haired cleric’s eyes – a chord of jealousy grew taut inside his chest.

He had half the mind to feel insulted that you hadn’t wandered in his direction yet, but that was quickly dispersed when he noticed you dismiss yourself and head towards a wooden crate near the riverfront. 

Almost like a shadow, Astarion swept in your direction. Whether it was to merely take in your smile up close or to put his plan in motion, he settled on the latter. You were rifling through the crate that held what could barely pass as wine, muttering a quiet curse about the little tiefling probably pocketing a bottle or two.

“Here’s my little treat with her cheeks all flushed,” the words dripped from his mouth with a sweet cadence. “You will come to my bed tonight, won’t you?”

You swiveled at the sound of his voice, raised brow accompanying your hazy smile. The influence of wine lowered your usual wariness, and he caught the realization flutter across your face; there was no constitution in attempting to act reserved, especially with the rapport you two had grown. Amusement was written all over your face, hardly concealed – you had decided to play along.

“A little treat? You can do better than that.” 

“Oh, I certainly can. It would be my pleasure.”

He leaned closer, half-lidded eyes darkening and breath heavy with a mischievous delight. You watched him expectantly, reveling in what would pour from his lips.

“How about this one,” he loosened his posture, as if you both were stowed away from the entire world instead of dawdling along the outskirts of the shoddy camp. “All these accolades from the tieflings are nothing compared to the sound of my name, cried from your lips.”

Astarion watched the smile further spread across your soft lips, the wickedly sweet crinkle in your eyes while you crossed your arms. An exhilaration rose underneath his suave demeanor, even the bemused snicker invigorating.

“Is that the best you can do?” came your quick quip.

“Hmm, let me give it another go,” his voice was thick with arousal, a hungry glint in his eyes. “Every part of your perfect body whispers temptation – it’s as if the Gods made you just to ruin me.” 

His words clung to the air for a moment. The deliberate onslaught of poetic pleasantries laced with such ardent lust, the hum of the wine – Astarion studied your face swirling in thought. Heat had built up from the lower half of your body up to your cheeks, a quiet neediness wavering in your stance and threatened to boil to the surface of your skin.

Gods, you were thinking, it had been the longest time and you’ve been touch-starved.. more so under the urgency of all the trouble you had been thrust into. You never trusted a pretty boy, but you'd be damned if his flowered prose didn't stir something in you; you had never been the subject of such pursuits, real or not. Desire rushed through you, coiling in your stomach.

There was a beckoning in his eyes as they clutched onto yours, imporing you to draw closer, and his boyish features were even more alluring when caressed by the moon’s glow. However, you couldn’t bring yourself to trust those flowery words. They were tinted with an air of rehearse.

“Did these really work on Cazador’s targets?”

“Well, they’re working on you, aren’t they?”

A mild bashfulness buzzed through the warmth on your cheeks, as you couldn’t really deny it. 

“How about if I said these little words… everyone’s favorite,” Astarion continued, pausing for effect.

“I love you.”

Sly amusement colored his face. He had succeeded in riling up the intrinsic urge, no matter how much you tried to conceal it. How adorable you were when your gaze fluttered briefly.

“Having fun, are you?” you observed, smile holding on your lips.

As he had mused earlier, he was. It was hard not to whenever around you.  

.

Festivities settled down, the entire camp fast asleep once the wine crate had emptied and bellies were full. Only the chittering of crickets could be heard amongst the trees.

The forest, usually dressed in potent darkness, stilled beneath the moonlight. A serene, subtle beauty of the night – one Astarion was very accustomed to knowing, to living . He had done this so many times it had become second nature – the salacious rendezvous, the secrecy and fleeting thrill of them all. 

He had contemplated before, the image of you melting in the throes of pleasure. He wondered whether you preferred his hands gentle or rough, what sounds would dribble from your lips – if they sounded as sweet as you tasted. 

Though nothing could prepare him for the reality, which far surpassed fantasy; the pretty little thing you were, bare figure caressed by the lowlight, slowly making your way towards him.

“There you are. I’ve been waiting.”

You offered him a coy smile, cheeks still warm and rosy. An ache rushed between your legs at the sight of him sauntering forward, his well-formed broad physique. Lean, yet muscular – and the soft details of his appearance; the crease of laughter lines, the curl of his lashes. Just the anticipation of it all served enough to make you wet.

“Waiting since the moment I set eyes on you. Waiting to have you,” he leaned closer, desire coating every syllable.

“You don’t have me yet,” you matched the pulse of his words, emanating a playfulness to goad him on further.

Greedy lips suddenly met yours, and you were pressed against the tree trunk. His palms gripped the back of your thighs, swift dexterity almost catching you off guard. You instantly melted, like a puddle, in his grasp; your soft lips just as eager, skin aching and impatient for his touch. You never realized how sensitive you were, how truly touch-starved until you fought the gasp that escaped your throat.

Astarion didn’t waste a beat, carefully laying you onto the grass below while he drawled slow kisses along the curve of your neck. Fervent yearning permeated from your skin; you wanted more, and he was prepared to give you everything .

He drank in the sight of your arousal, eager to please you yet potently roused from the position he was in: you were such a delectably pretty thing sprawled beneath his weight, completely bare and vulnerable. Wide eyes bashfully beckoning him to just taste you.

“Part those precious legs for me, beautiful.” He directed, his voice less of a growl this time – instead more sweet. Soft. 

You could feel your face heat up further at his words, following his command without hesitation. Tender hands trailed along the soft skin of your thigh, his intense eyes briefly leaving yours to watch his fingers lingered over your folds – you were glistening with slick , fevered arousal.

“Oh my, you’re already so wet for me.”

His voice was almost a whisper now, as a keen excitement rushed through his veins. A twitch pressed against his briefs, his cock already hard and eager especially when his eyes darted towards your rosy. So willing, ready to indulge his every whim. For a moment, he settled in your vulnerability – a sight he didn't expect to see. You were always full of such delicious surprises.

He shook the thought from his mind, allowing a sly smile to return to his lips.

“Who knew you were so needy?”

Your cheeks flushed, timid lips scrambling to form a defensive retort before he slipped two fingers inside. Only a quiet gasp left your mouth as your soaking warmth struggled to adjust, tightening around his digits. You were barely able to comprehend the words he said, instinctively bucking your hips.

“ Astar ..” your breath hitched before you could even finish, when his fingers began a slow pace. Teasingly slow, you would beckon, but there was nothing you could even fathom whispering anymore. Your walls began to clench, eager to receive his unwavering attention.

Hums of pleasure pulsed through your every nerve, rapidly as he fastened the curling pace of his fingers. Every hitched and quiet whimper encouraged him, his palm soaked with your slick. He relished the sight of your round breasts rising and falling feverishly, your heat clenched around him – his cock further hardened, precum no doubt pooling on the fabric of his briefs. 

All you could manage was to focus on the pleasure mounting between your legs, thighs now quivering with anticipation. His thumb slid up to your swollen clit, never breaking pace, to draw teasingly slow circles. He adjusted his weight to lean closer to your face, the sudden attention causing an overwhelming shyness to press your eyes shut. Your thighs trembled more now while his fingers beckoned and lured your pleasure to spur closer and closer.

“Look at me,” he whispered, his voice the gentlest you’ve ever heard. 

He couldn’t place the sensation – of feeling entranced in a sense, when whimpers of pleasure fumbled from your beautiful lips. Astarion almost felt lost, nearly mesmerized, when you kept those pretty eyes trained on his. He could feel his eyes soften at your vulnerable stare, and all at once everything inside him craved to slide into your warmth. To feel you melt into him, to hit every right spot to make you sing, for every sweet prayer cascading from your lips to be for him.

“Mmf..” You were left in a sudden foggy haze, a mix of pleasure and confusion when he abruptly withdrew his fingers. You couldn’t fathom any words to speak, only furrowed your brows in a hazed and disorientated manner.

“I’m sorry, love.” His breathless laugh seemed dazed before the low, heaviness returned to his tone, “You were practically just begging with those lovely eyes of yours.”

He leaned downwards to plant soft, reassuringly delicate pecks across the nape of your neck; each a mantra to affection, leaving a buzz in their wake. Carefully he peeled down his briefs with a wasted moment to rub his eager cock against your slick warmth.

Your moans sounded even sweeter closer to his ear, and a delighted sigh pressed from his lips onto your skin. His throbbing cock was met with some resistance as the length and girth was suffocated by your tightening walls, warm spasms at the sensation being filled. 

A guttural, low moan hummed from his throat. Fuck, you were so perfectly tight.

His cock pulsed at the sudden attention, aching with pleasure and a warm buzz radiating through his skin. He paused for a moment, needing to relish every second it felt to be now pressed so deep inside you. The softness of your skin, delicate cues of pleasure washing over your face, how your warm walls enveloped his cock.

You moaned as he pushed more of his length inside your needy warmth, tears beginning to well up in the corner of your eyes. Pleasure and slight pain blurred, the tip of his cock almost pressed against your soft cervix and a rouse of heat traveling up your spine. 

His hands gripped the globes of your ass to adjust his leverage, slowly but deliberately digging his hips against yours with each thrust. His body was achingly ready, alive with frantic urge. He was incapable of any pretty words to whisper, tangled groans replacing his usual velvet tongue.

As he pounded quicker into your warmth, your pulsating soft walls sucked his cock tighter and deeper with each buckle. He nestled his head into the nape of your neck. Sweat formed on his pale forehead as he wrestled with his restraint, his cock stroking in and out, hitting pleasure points you never knew existed and relishing in your shameless cries – desperate for him.

Soft, warm pleasure unraveled across you in hot waves. If you had the mind, you could only hope that no one could hear you two – the sounds and wet smacks of his skin colliding against yours – but all you could do was turn your pleasured cries and whimpers into soundless gasps.

Your lips parted, hips bucking before your back arched from the ground. Every fiber of your body attempted to get closer to him, and his to you. Of some act of grace, your hand caressed his face, lifting him to face yours.

Oh, how he wanted to melt right there. 

Eager eyes met each other, brows furrowing together into a soft, tender stare. Astarion’s hips began to buck erratically for a moment as he struggled to regain his resolve. Once steadied, he continued to bury deeper into you in every perfect way. You were clenched so tightly, so divinely around him while his name trickled as a whisper from your lips. 

“You – fuck .. “ you couldn’t be bothered to form a proper sentence, every whim of comprehension overwhelmed by new heights of white pleasure. You were lulled into a stupor, and his grip tightened at your garbled pleas.

“Thaaat’s it,” Astarion practically begged, voice ragged, his eyes never leaving your beautiful face as it twisted with sweet expressions. An eagerness gnawed inside him, to push you to the edge of your pleasures. You were so perfect while you cried his name, taking all of him so well. 

“Come for me, sweet girl –” Hushed and delicate was his tone, only causing you to surrender any inhibition.

Heat wound tightly in your abdomen, lashes wet with the tears trailing down your warm face. Every nerve was wound so tight, finally snapping into a rush of white hot pleasure that left your skin flushed and tingling. You tried to whine out his name, but it spilled out into broken gasps as you reached your fingers to grip his silver curls. 

His hips began to stagger, riding out your pleasure until he could no longer postpone the succumb to pleasure. They lost their rhythm, and a low moan rumbled from his throat as he surrendered to the overwhelming sensation of your tightening walls, pressing into you.

You could feel his cock throbbing in you, as your nerves are slow to fizzle from the glowing buzz, and it swelled. Your slick walls were overstimulated nearly by his desperate, choppy thrusts before a cry escapes his lips – his cum flooded into you, thick and hot. He felt waves of warmth, so real and alive. So helplessly right.

The air was silent, as you both collected your breaths in hurried gasps. Astarion peeled his weight off of you only to roll onto his back, by your side. Your body felt light and completely slack, almost boneless as you sunk into the earth underneath you. Aftershocks of pleasure still rippled throughout your nerves. 

Both of you laid sweaty, flushed, exhausted, lacking the energy to care. You broke the silence with a wobble in your voice.

“Fuck, you came inside me..” you stated the obvious, reeling from pulsing nerves and vision hazy. 

“I’m sure the druids have something that’ll take care of that..” Astarion said breathlessly, extending an arm to wipe the sweat glistening off his forehead. 

He waited for a quiet laugh or a retort, but neither came.

Turning his head, he was met with the vision of your exhausted figure fast asleep. Slowly your chest rose and fell, face at ease – a vulnerability he had only seen when you were in deep sleep, if you weren't tossing and turning.

The quiet sat with him while he attempted to gather his thoughts, his experience. He had seen an entirely different side of you – exposed delicate. Part of his conscience pooled with guilt. 

He had a plan. A nice simple plan. It wasn’t foreign to casually bed strangers, seducing and manipulating them into following his every whim. Hells, this had been routine for two hundred years . The count was lost on how many nights he spent using people like ragdolls, only to be lured back into the hands of Cazador.

Astarion returned his gaze to the stars glistening above, attempting his best at reducing it to the odd circumstances or perhaps he was simply out of practice. 

Regardless – even if it was more than a fluke – he had already fucked things up. The thought felt tainted now, uneasy and riddled with remorse. 

Little did he know that evening, that was the beginning of his plan crumbling apart.

[maxtermind]

(texts masterlist \ main masterlist \ navigation )

★ : summary :: you've moved to a new city with no contacts whatsoever, feeling totally out of your element and completely alone— but woah, whos that?— oh how could you forget that's your brother's very generous, very polite, very sexy bestfriend hell bent on making your life… miserable? ★ : feat :: max verstappen, lewis hamilton, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, lando norris, oscar piastri ★ : tropes :: brother's bestfriend; idiots in love; she falls first, he falls harder; mutual pining; fake dating; secret relationship ★ : key :: (f) fluff; (a) angst; (c) comfort; (h) humor; (m) mature/mentions of sex ★ : a/n :: just the usual text aus with a little bit of plot and interconnectedness!! if you have requests to fit anything in the subcategories below, send them in!

. brother's best friend 𓂃 ♥︎

- reconnecting with your brother's best friend (f)

- when you leave f1 drivers cash (h)

. friends with benefits 𓂃 ♥︎

....loading

. lovers (in secret) 𓂃 ♥︎

....loading

. married 𓂃 ♥︎

....loading

©maxtermind // do not copy, rewrite or translate any of my work on any platforms.

★ : a/n :: feedback and reblogs are appreciated!

[rafeskai]

Life as We Know It — Rafe Cameron

Chapter Two

Two opposites must navigate love, loss, and unexpected parenthood to discover the meaning of family.

Summary: When tragedy strikes, two very different individuals find their lives unexpectedly intertwined as they become the guardians of an orphaned child. As they navigate the challenges of co-parenting, balancing careers, and confronting their pasts, they discover that family can form in the most surprising ways. Through heartfelt moments and unexpected humor, they explore what it means to build a life together—one step at a time.

Pairings: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Character deaths & angst.

Author's Notes: Inspired by the movie "Life as We Know It"!

Masterlist: Here

It had been three days since you’d found yourself in Rafe’s house, a place that now felt more like a cage than a refuge. You hadn’t had much time to adjust to the new reality. Between the funeral, the endless meetings with lawyers and child services, and the sudden responsibility of Willa, everything seemed to blur together in a haze of exhaustion.

You had told yourself you’d stay at the house more often, that you’d help Rafe get into a routine with Willa, but the sheer weight of everything had left you in a constant state of uncertainty. It wasn’t just that you were suddenly her guardian, it was that you were also navigating a delicate, complicated dynamic with Rafe. Every time you thought you had a handle on things, another obstacle seemed to rise up in front of you.

But life didn’t stop, and the bills still needed to be paid. So, you found yourself at the local café by 7 a.m. every morning, working the early shift as if it were a lifeline to some semblance of normalcy. The smell of fresh coffee and pastries helped ground you, a comfort amidst the chaos.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

That morning, you found yourself staring blankly at the coffee machine, lost in thought as you tried to get a fresh batch brewing. Willa’s laugh echoed in your mind, that small, joyful sound she’d made when you’d managed to make her smile that morning at Rafe’s house. But then there was Rafe—his disheveled hair, his barely-contained frustration as he tried to make breakfast, as if he were a stranger in his own life.

You shook the thoughts away, focusing on the task at hand. You couldn’t afford distractions right now.

"Hey, [Y/N], you okay?" Jess, your co-worker, asked as she slid into the back room, eyeing you with concern. Jess had been your friend since you started working at the café, and while she wasn’t a mind reader, she could always tell when something was off.

You nodded quickly, putting a smile on your face. "Yeah, just a little tired. You know how it is."

She raised an eyebrow, but didn’t press further. "Well, the morning rush is about to hit, and we’re already behind, so I’ll let you catch up. Just take it easy when you can, alright?"

You offered a grateful smile, trying to ignore the tightness in your chest. Jess had a way of reading you, and the last thing you wanted was to let her know the extent of what you were juggling.

The morning rush came and went, the familiar frenzy of orders, refills, and people coming and going. By noon, the crowd thinned, and you finally got a break. You slipped into the back room, sitting on one of the crates as you checked your phone, hoping for a distraction.

You had a few missed texts, mostly from Sarah’s family offering condolences, a few work-related messages, and then... one from Rafe.

Can you come over tonight? Willa’s been fussy all day. I can’t figure out what she wants.

You stared at the message for a moment, your thumb hovering over the screen. You’d been trying to keep your distance from Rafe, only coming over when absolutely necessary, and still, he was asking for help. He hadn’t exactly been forthcoming with his emotions, but there was something about the way he’d written this message that gave you pause.

You knew it wasn’t just about Willa—it never had been. There was still tension between you and Rafe, an unspoken rift that neither of you had quite figured out how to cross. Yet, here he was, reaching out.

You sighed, rubbing your temples. You’d been trying to balance it all—work, helping Rafe, and processing the grief that seemed to be dragging you under—but it wasn’t easy. You needed to be there for Willa, but you also needed to keep your job, and your sanity.

After a moment of contemplation, you typed out a reply. I’ll be there around six. I can stay for a few hours.

You didn’t know what you expected, but you sure as hell didn’t expect the quick response. 

Thanks. I’ll make dinner. She’s been restless.

You felt a strange knot form in your stomach at the offer. Dinner? From Rafe Cameron? A part of you wanted to laugh, but another part—an irrational, confusing part—wondered if this was his way of trying to do something right, for once.

The rest of your shift passed in a blur. You tried to focus on the coffee orders and the chatter of the customers, but all you could think about was Rafe and the odd, fragile dynamic that had begun to take root.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

By the time you pulled into Rafe’s driveway later that evening, you could feel the exhaustion settling deep into your bones. But Willa needed you, and whether or not you wanted to admit it, Rafe did, too.

You took a deep breath before getting out of your car, trying to mentally prepare yourself for whatever awaited inside.

The house looked even bigger at night, the lights from the interior casting long shadows across the front yard. As you walked up the stone path, you noticed the faint scent of something cooking—garlic, herbs... something surprisingly warm and inviting.

When you stepped inside, the familiar coldness of the house hit you, but this time, there was something different. The warmth of a home-cooked meal filled the air, and for the briefest moment, it almost felt like things could be normal again.

Rafe was in the kitchen, his sleeves rolled up as he stood over the stove. He looked up when you entered, a slight tension in his posture as if he was still waiting for you to call him out on some unseen mistake.

“Hey,” you said quietly, watching him carefully. “Dinner smells good.”

He nodded, but didn’t meet your eyes. “It’s nothing fancy. Just pasta, I—uh, thought it might help if she had something warm.” His voice faltered, just a little, but he quickly recovered.

You glanced over at Willa, who was in her high chair, her small hands gripping the edge of the tray as she watched Rafe. She looked so small in the expansive room, and the sight hit you in a way you weren’t prepared for.

You walked over to her, gently picking her up from the chair. “Hey, little one,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

Rafe turned away from the stove, his hands gripping the counter as he stared down at the floor. "I don't know what I'm doing. She won’t stop crying, and I... I don’t get it."

You felt a pang of sympathy, despite everything. You moved toward him, your voice soft. “It’s okay. You’re doing fine. It’s all new for both of us. You don’t have to have all the answers.”

Rafe looked up at you, his expression tense but vulnerable. "Yeah. I guess I just... I want to do right by her. I don’t want to screw this up."

You nodded, the weight of his words sinking in. 

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The sound of Willa’s cries echoed through the vast kitchen, filling the space with a noise that felt almost too loud for the house. She was tiny, yet her cries were fierce, relentless. It had been over an hour, and you were beginning to feel like you were running out of options. You had tried everything.

You’d fed her, changed her, rocked her. But no matter what you did, she wouldn’t stop. Willa’s little fists clenched and her body writhed in your arms, the tears never slowing, never quieting.

“Come on, Willa,” you muttered, trying to soothe her with the kind of gentle rocking you’d seen Sarah do a million times. But nothing worked. You glanced over at Rafe, who was standing across the kitchen with his arms crossed, looking both helpless and frustrated.

“I don’t get it,” he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his already messy hair. “Why the hell won’t she stop?”

You didn’t have an answer. Honestly, you didn’t know why she was crying, either. She had been fine all afternoon, playing with her toys, laughing when you made funny faces at her. But now, she was inconsolable, and it was starting to tear at your patience—and Rafe’s too.

You rocked Willa more gently, trying to keep calm. "I don’t know," you said softly, your voice low and soothing. “Maybe it’s... something else. She could be tired, or maybe she’s just upset. Babies have their moods.” You spoke from experience, but your words felt thin in the moment. You hadn’t expected to be thrown into this role, and you were starting to feel every bit of the weight of it.

Rafe glanced at you, his brow furrowing. “Do you think she’s sick?” he asked, his voice laced with genuine concern.

You shook your head. "I don't think so... I mean, she doesn’t have a fever. Maybe it's just... a bad moment." You were doing your best to sound confident, but even you didn’t believe the words you were saying.

Willa’s cries intensified, her tiny body wriggling in your arms, making it even harder to calm her. Your chest tightened with frustration, helplessness. It was hard enough to balance everything with the weight of the situation, but right now? You felt completely out of your depth.

“I don’t know what else to do,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. You looked over at Rafe, who hadn’t moved an inch since you started holding Willa. His face was tight, his eyes narrowed in frustration, but there was something else there, too—something you hadn’t expected: vulnerability.

He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it. After a few more seconds of Willa’s crying, he finally broke the silence.

“Maybe I could try,” he offered, his voice a bit softer, tentative.

You were surprised at the offer. You’d never seen Rafe with kids—never even imagined him with a child this young. But there was something in the way he said it, a quiet desperation, that made you nod.

“Yeah. Try.” You handed Willa to him, careful not to jostle her too much as she continued to wail. She was still kicking her legs, her face scrunched up in distress.

Rafe hesitated for just a second before adjusting her in his arms, awkwardly holding her against his chest. His expression was uncertain, like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with this tiny person who was now his responsibility.

“Hey, Willa,” Rafe said softly, his voice surprisingly gentle. “It’s okay. You’re safe. We got you.”

He bounced her lightly, just enough to make her feel the rhythm of his movements. For a moment, nothing changed. Willa’s cries didn’t soften, but Rafe didn’t seem to mind. His focus was entirely on her, like he was determined to make it work.

You watched him for a moment, trying not to show your surprise. You didn’t think you’d ever see Rafe in this light. The way he moved, the way he spoke to Willa—there was something different in his tone, something real.

But the crying didn’t stop. Willa’s cries just seemed to escalate, as though she was testing him, testing you both.

Rafe gritted his teeth, adjusting his hold on her again, more firmly this time. “Alright, little one,” he muttered under his breath, his voice still trying to stay calm despite the rising frustration. "We’re gonna get this right. I swear."

He then shifted, trying a different approach, gently patting her back. He’d seen Sarah do it before, you knew, but it still felt foreign coming from him.

You, not sure what else to do, knelt beside him, trying to be as calm and soothing as possible. You placed a hand gently on Willa’s leg. “Shh… Willa, sweetie, it’s okay,” you cooed, matching Rafe’s rhythm.

And then, something unexpected happened. Slowly, gradually, Willa’s cries began to soften. Her body stopped wriggling as much, her little fists loosened. It wasn’t immediate, and it wasn’t magic, but her wails started to turn into quiet sobs, then sniffling, then, finally, she rested her head against Rafe’s chest.

You exhaled a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.

"See?" you said softly, your heart still racing. "I told you it was just a moment."

Rafe, his face still a bit tense but now with a faint trace of relief, looked down at Willa. Her eyelids fluttered as she finally, finally, drifted off to sleep.

“I don’t get it,” he said quietly, shaking his head. “I tried everything, but... she calms down when you do that. When we’re both here.”

You shrugged, feeling the exhaustion in your own body. “Sometimes... it just takes both of us. Babies are unpredictable.” You didn’t know what else to say, because, truth be told, you didn’t really understand it either. But you knew one thing for sure—despite your differences, despite the chaos, this was something you could do together.

Rafe shifted his weight, still holding Willa carefully. “Thanks,” he said quietly, as if he hadn’t just gone through a whirlwind of frustration. It was brief, but there was sincerity in his voice. “I didn’t think... I mean, I wasn’t sure I could handle this.”

You glanced up at him, and for the first time in a long time, you saw something different in his eyes—something that wasn’t defiance or anger, but something closer to gratitude.

“You’re not alone in this,” you said softly. “We’ll figure it out, one step at a time.”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The house had fallen into a strange stillness after Willa finally settled into bed, her little form bundled up in the crib, tucked in for the night. The hours of chaos, the endless crying, the uncertainty—it had all melted into a tense kind of quiet that felt almost too heavy to breathe through. You and Rafe were both exhausted, physically and emotionally, but the weight of the situation hadn’t lightened one bit.

You leaned against the counter in the kitchen, your fingers wrapped around a mug of warm tea, trying to find some semblance of calm. The silence was comforting in a way, but also suffocating. You and Rafe hadn’t exchanged many words since Willa had fallen asleep. There had been a brief moment where you’d both sat at the kitchen table, exhausted, sipping coffee in silence, but now it felt like the quiet was pressing in from all sides.

Rafe was standing by the window, his arms crossed, looking out into the darkened yard. He had been quiet for a while, but you could feel his presence like a weight in the room. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he spoke.

"You know," he began, his voice low but firm. "I’ve been thinking. Maybe it would be better if you just moved in here."

You froze, your fingers tightening around the mug in your hands. "What?" You turned to face him, the surprise evident in your voice. "What are you talking about? Why would I—"

He cut you off, not giving you a chance to react. "Look, we’re both her guardians now, right? I get it—you have your life, your job, but you can’t keep going back and forth between here and the café. Willa needs us both, and we both need to be there for her."

You blinked, trying to process his words. "That’s... a huge thing to suggest, Rafe." You shook your head, stepping away from the counter, moving to the other side of the room. "You think it’s easy for me? You think I don’t have a life outside of this? I’ve got my job, my own responsibilities. I can’t just—move in here."

He turned, his gaze sharp as he watched you. "I’m not saying it would be permanent, but Willa... she’s not going to be okay if we’re both stressed out all the time. You’re already running yourself ragged. This way, you wouldn’t have to go back and forth. You could be here when she needs you, and you wouldn’t have to worry about missing shifts or running out of time."

You felt your pulse quicken, frustration creeping in. "You don’t get it, do you? It’s not just about time. This is my life, Rafe. I’m not just going to—what?—move in with you? Because that’s what you think is best?"

Rafe’s face hardened. "It’s not about what I think is best, [Y/N]. It’s about what Willa needs. You think it’s easy for me, either? I didn’t sign up for this. But here we are, and we both have to step up. We both have to make sacrifices."

Your breath hitched, your voice shaking with the weight of it all. "You think I haven’t thought about that? But this isn’t just about ‘stepping up,’ Rafe. This is about our lives. You can’t just dictate how things are going to work because you suddenly want to play house. I’m not some—"

"Not some what?" he snapped, cutting you off, his jaw tightening as his temper flared. "You think I’m asking for you to live with me because it’s some great idea? I’m trying to help you. You can’t keep doing this alone, and neither can I."

You felt a sting of anger rise in your chest, the frustration of everything spilling out. "I don’t need you to help me, Rafe. I don’t need you to fix everything. I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t ask for any of this!"

There was a long, painful silence that hung between you both, a tension that had been building ever since that damn phone call, and now, it seemed like it might tear everything apart.

Rafe exhaled sharply, his shoulders sagging slightly as the heat of his anger cooled into something more complicated, more raw. "I’m not trying to fix everything," he muttered, his voice quieter now, laced with frustration. "I’m just trying to do the right thing. I didn’t ask for any of this, either, but I can’t keep pretending it’s just going to work if we’re both barely holding on. You need help. I need help."

Your heart ached at the words, and for a brief moment, you thought you saw the cracks in his armor, the vulnerability he tried so hard to hide. But you pushed it aside, unwilling to let the floodgates open.

"I don’t need you, Rafe," you repeated, more firmly now. "I need to figure out how to do this on my own. We’re both her guardians, but I’m not going to make this—whatever this is—worse by complicating it. I can’t just move in here and pretend like that makes everything better."

His face tightened, the walls going back up, the Rafe you knew slipping behind his defenses. "Fine," he said, his voice flat. "Then keep living your life. Keep juggling it all, and see how far that gets you."

You shook your head, your words coming out in a rush. "You think this is easy for me? You think I don’t care? I care, Rafe. But this isn’t just about what’s easiest for you, or me, or anyone else. It’s about Willa. And right now, she needs more than just two people fighting over what’s best for her. She needs stability. She needs peace."

Rafe was silent for a long moment, the tension still thick in the room. His eyes flickered to the hallway where Willa’s room was, the soft rise and fall of her tiny chest visible through the crack of the door. His face softened for just a fraction of a second, but then he steeled himself again.

"Yeah," he said, his voice quieter now, though there was still a trace of frustration. "She needs peace. And maybe you’re right. Maybe this isn’t the right call." He turned his back to you, his body tense as if he was still holding onto something you couldn’t see.

You felt your anger begin to ebb, replaced by a quiet weariness that settled deep in your chest. You wanted to argue more, to fight for your space, for your independence. But the truth was, Rafe’s idea, crazy as it seemed, did make some sense. And yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to agree.

You stayed silent, the space between you growing more and more uncomfortable, until Rafe finally broke the stillness.

"I guess we’ll just have to figure it out, huh?" he said, his voice distant.

You nodded, though you weren’t sure if you were agreeing with him—or just acknowledging the mess you’d both gotten into.

"Yeah," you whispered. "I guess so."

And for the first time in a long time, the silence between you both wasn’t just filled with tension. It was filled with uncertainty.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ 

It had been weeks since the argument, weeks since you and Rafe had first clashed over what was best for Willa, what was best for the two of you. You’d spent those weeks bouncing between your place, Rafe’s, and the café, and with each passing day, it was becoming more and more clear that you couldn’t keep it up. You were running on fumes, your mind spinning with the constant demands of work, the responsibilities of being Willa’s guardian, and the weight of your personal life crumbling under the strain.

You couldn’t do it anymore.

It was a quiet morning when you finally made the decision. The sun had barely risen, casting a soft, golden glow across the living room of your small house. You hadn’t been home in days, had barely slept in your own bed. Willa was still adjusting to the routine, and the nights at Rafe’s were becoming more frequent. The constant back and forth was wearing you down.

You stood at the kitchen counter, staring at the coffee mug in your hand, the warmth barely reaching you. It was still early, and the sound of Rafe’s truck hadn’t yet filtered through the house. But today, you had to make it right.

You had to admit you couldn’t juggle it all.

The idea of moving in had been haunting you for days, but admitting it was another thing entirely. Rafe’s offer wasn’t just about practicality—it was about more than that. About Willa, about what you and Rafe were going to have to become for her. You’d been resisting it, pushing it away because it felt like giving up control of your life. But you knew you couldn’t keep going on this way.

And so, you made your decision.

When Rafe finally walked through the front door a few hours later, his presence filled the space like it always did—big, heavy, almost too much to ignore. He didn’t say anything at first, just kicked off his boots and moved to the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water before leaning against the counter, his gaze flickering over to you.

“You good?” he asked, his voice low but not unkind.

You set your mug down, taking a deep breath before you spoke. “I’ve been thinking,” you said, your voice steady but with an undercurrent of hesitation. “And I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep bouncing between my place, yours, and work. It’s... it’s too much.”

Rafe’s brow furrowed slightly. “So what does that mean?”

You met his gaze, the weight of what you were about to say pressing down on you. “I’m going to move in. I can’t juggle all of this alone. But there are some conditions.”

Rafe tilted his head, his eyes narrowing just slightly in curiosity. “Conditions?” he echoed, a hint of skepticism in his voice. “Like what?”

You took a breath and laid it out, clear and firm. “First, I’m not giving up my job at the café. I need that. I need a space where I can breathe and do something for myself. I’m going to be there on my shifts, but I won’t be running myself into the ground. So, we need to find a rhythm that works. I can’t just be at home all day, every day. I have my own life, too.”

Rafe nodded slowly, processing the first part. “Okay. Makes sense.” He crossed his arms, waiting for the rest.

“Second,” you continued, your voice unwavering. “I’m not going to just be a ‘housewife’ or whatever. I need to be treated as an equal, I’m her legal guardian too, not some babysitter. I’ll help with Willa, but I can’t take on the full load. If we’re doing this, we’re both sharing it.”

Rafe didn’t argue with that. He gave a slight nod, the corners of his mouth twitching as if he were preparing for the next condition.

“And third,” you added, stepping forward, your gaze never leaving his. “We set some boundaries. This is for Willa. We’re doing this for her, but I’m not moving in here for any other reason. We need to keep things professional—for her sake. I’m not moving in here just to... make things weird.” You paused, feeling the tension rise between you. “If we’re doing this, it’s for Willa. Nothing more, nothing less.”

There was a long silence between you two as Rafe absorbed your words. He was silent for a moment, then exhaled through his nose, a sound of reluctant agreement. “Fair enough,” he said. “I can deal with that. We both need to be in this equally. No one person doing more than the other.” He glanced over at you, a little more seriously now. “And about the boundaries... I’m not trying to make this any more complicated than it has to be. I get it. You’re here to help with Willa, and I’m not going to make that weird.”

It was strange, the way things were shifting between you both. There was a subtle shift in his tone, something closer to understanding. As much as Rafe might have wanted to fight you on it, you knew he respected the fact that you were being clear about your limits.

“So, what now?” he asked, breaking the silence. “You move in today?”

You nodded. “Yeah. But, you’ll have to help me get my stuff together. I’m not just leaving everything behind, Rafe.” You allowed a small, almost imperceptible smile to tug at the corner of your lips. “You’re not getting off that easy.”

Rafe smirked, the tension breaking between you two for the first time in weeks. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll help. Just don’t expect me to pack your clothes.”

You laughed quietly, feeling the weight on your chest lift just a little. “I don’t need you to pack my clothes. I just need you to be... not a pain in the ass while I get settled in.”

Rafe raised an eyebrow. “No promises there.”

You shook your head, a soft chuckle escaping your lips. It was a step in the right direction, you told yourself. A step toward figuring out how to make this new life work.

Maybe it wasn’t going to be easy. Maybe it would take time, patience, and more compromises than you had ever imagined. But one thing was clear: you couldn’t do this on your own. And maybe, just maybe, with Rafe by your side, you could figure out what it meant to be a family, even if it wasn’t the family you’d ever expected.

With a deep breath, you took the first step.

"Alright," you said. "Let’s go get my stuff."

© 2024 rafeskai | All rights reserved. This fanfiction is a work of fiction inspired by characters from Outer Banks, and no part of it may be reproduced or distributed without permission.