#I WATCHED IT FOR THE FIRST TIME THIS YEAR MOM I WOULD HAVE REMEMBERED!

[makis-eyebrows]

Request: <33

Little Miss Albon-He

Shy but witty Y/n comes to the paddock for the first time and meets her extended family.

It was a bright, bustling Friday morning at the Silverstone Grand Prix, and the Williams garage was buzzing with mechanics, media, and the smell of burnt rubber and caffeine.

But tucked behind one particular driver’s legs was a small, quiet shadow.

Seven-year-old Y/n Albon-He.

It was her very first race weekend in the paddock.

Normally, she watched every Grand Prix curled up on the couch next to her mom, Lily Muni He, popcorn in one hand and her favorite plush bunny in the other. Her dad, Alexander Albon, was “the cool guy on the screen” who drove really fast and waved at the camera after finishing interviews.

But this weekend was different.

Alex had asked gently one evening, “Would you want to come with me to a race? You don’t have to talk to anyone. Just… see what Dad does.”

She hesitated. Then nodded. “Only if I get a paddock pass like yours.”

He smiled. “Deal.”

Now here they were — Y/n in a tiny Williams hoodie, her long hair tucked under a cap two sizes too big, her small hand gripping the hem of her dad’s race suit like it was a lifeline.

“Darling, you’re okay,” Lily soothed gently, kneeling to fix the cap and tuck Y/n’s hair behind her ear. “Remember what we said. Just breathe and be yourself.”

Y/n nodded, her lower lip wobbling slightly.

Alex bent down too, giving her a wink. “They’re just my weird friends. You’ll survive.”

Y/n whispered back, “You didn’t say they were loud weird friends.”

First Encounter: George Russell

George had been the first to spot the tiny shadow behind Alex’s leg.

“Well, would you look at that!” George grinned. “Mini Albon’s finally made her debut!”

Y/n peeked out, eyes narrowing. “You’re… the man with the very neat hair.”

Alex choked on a laugh. George blinked.

“I—thank you? I think?”

“She watches the races,” Lily whispered to George with a grin. “She’s got notes.”

Y/n, now slightly bolder, added under her breath: “You talk very posh.”

George burst out laughing. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Next Up: Carlos Sainz and Charles Leclerc

In the Ferrari garage, Carlos knelt to her level with a big smile. “Hola, pequeña. I’m Carlos. Your dad tells me you’re very clever.”

“I know three languages,” Y/n said matter-of-factly. “But I’m not fluent yet because I’m only seven.”

Charles leaned in. “Do you know how to drive?”

Y/n looked at him like he was slightly insane. “Do you know how to park?”

Carlos lost it. Alex gave her a high five.

A growing croud

Word spread fast that Alex brought Y/n.

Pierre Gasly brought her a macaron. Yuki tried to race her in a mini go-kart (she won). Daniel Ricciardo made her laugh so hard she had to sit down.

Eventually, someone gave her a tiny headset and a lanyard that read “WILLIAMS VIP CREW – Y/N A.”

“She’s officially on the team now,” joked a mechanic as she scribbled on the pit wall whiteboard:

“Go Dad Go! Or else >:(”

Lily sipped her coffee proudly while watching her daughter flourish.

“She’s more like Alex than she thinks,” she said.

“She’s like you too,” Alex murmured, watching Y/n curtsy after making Fernando Alonso bow to her during a silly ‘royalty game’ someone started.

Back in the Garage

Later that day, after a long walk through the paddock, Y/n curled up in the corner of the hospitality suite with Lily’s sweater and a juice box.

Alex came over and sat next to her quietly.

“You did good today, bub.”

She nodded. “I liked it… once I stopped hiding.”

“I’m proud of you,” he said softly. “And so is Mom.”

“Next time,” Y/n said, sipping her juice, “I want my own radio so I can tell you when you’re being slow.”

Alex blinked. “Wow. Okay.”

“And I want to press the green button. You know, the one that makes you go faster.”

“…That’s not how it works.”

“Is that what you tell everyone when they ask why you finished P12?” she smirked.

Alex looked betrayed. Lily cackled in the background.

As the Weekend Ended

As the sun set over Silverstone, Y/n sat on Alex’s shoulders, waving at the fans and grinning wide as her little face made its first appearance on the big paddock screens.

“She’s got your wit,” Charles said, watching her steal sunglasses from drivers.

“She’s got your grace,” Alex said to Lily, as Y/n bowed dramatically in front of a camera.

“And she’s got your sass,” Lily returned, laughing. “We’re doomed.”

Alex just smiled, his heart full.

Because even if she started the weekend hiding behind his legs…

…Y/n Albon-He had just owned the paddock.

AHH another story done. I actually quite enjoy doing this.

But anyways pookie, I hope you enjoyed this and you like the way it came out :)

That's Gang Gang out!!! ♡

[milatiny-xx]

promise | k.ys

pairing: kang yeosang x gn!reader summary: your childhood best friend accidentally admits that he's been secretly in love with you for many years and just recently got over it. at least, he thinks so. you want to put that theory to the test... warnings: best friends to loversss, mutual pining, fluff, make out!! make out!!, fade to black!! wc: 2.1k a/n: yeosang's biceps. send post. x [requests are also open 🥰]

⊹₊⟡⋆ masterlist | taglist ⊹₊⟡⋆

You giggle as you throw back another shot of soju, wincing when you put the glass down.

"Ach, this stuff is terrible," you whine. "Next time, I'll buy the booze."

Yeosang laughs, placing the bottle back on the coffee table.

"Be my guest," he replies. "That one was expensive."

You're both sitting on the floor with a box of half-eaten pizza beside you and a mostly empty bottle of soju. Having been best friends since childhood, you and Yeosang try to meet up at least once every two weeks to hang out. You order food, get drinks, and watch a terrible drama neither of you have seen before. You have to give Sangie a lot of credit—despite his crazy busy schedule with ATEEZ, he always shows up to your friend dates and never, ever cancels.

"What are you complaining about? Surely, you can afford it."

"Ah, right. Because I'm a big time idol."

You nod, pursing your lips at him to say duh.

"Yeah, exactly. Even though you don't act like it."

He reaches for the bottle to pour you both another drink.

"What do you mean?"

"You're sitting here with me devouring greasy pizza and throwing back liquor while we watch one of the most horrendous movies I've ever seen in my life. It's just not how I imagine idols acting."

He hums in acknowledgement. His eyes slide from side to side as if he were looking for spies before he leans in toward you. You raise your eyebrows but follow his lead.

"You do know we're still humans, right?" he says, voice low. You scoff, playfully slapping his arm. "Besides, I would never give up this time with you."

Your heart lurches, his sweet words dripping like honey. On the one hand you love when he says things like that to you—it makes you feel warm and fuzzy inside, like you're special to him. On the other hand, it's usually followed with the most intense emotional pain you've ever experienced when you remember that he's saying it to you as a friend.

"Give me that," you gesture to the soju. "And tell me something."

"Tell you what?"

"I don't know. Something personal, something secret, something nobody else knows. Here, I'll go first. Ummmm," you study the ceiling as you think. "Ah, I know! When we were in third grade and that stapler disappeared from Mr. Wan's desk, Ha-joon got in trouble for it. But it was really me, and I let him take the blame because I didn't want them to call my mom."

Yeosang's mouth drops open, amusement flooding across his handsome face. He laughs, covering his mouth with his hand—an adorable habit that you've noticed he has.

"Ha-joon wasn't allowed to go to recess for three months after that. How can you live with yourself?"

You shrug, slightly embarrassed.

"It's not easy. Your turn."

He hums to himself as he thinks. His eyes catch yours for a fleeting second, and you can tell that he's got an idea.

"Well...there's one thing I can think of."

You tilt your head, interest piqued.

"Yeah? What's that?"

Yeosang's eyes sparkle. A sweet grin spreads across his face as he drops his head sheepishly. He chuckles, a deep rumbling noise that raises goosebumps on your arms. You can't help but giggle.

"What?" you ask, playfully smacking his arm. "What are you laughing about?"

He shakes his head, his long bangs falling into his eyes. Your heart flutters as you appreciate how gorgeous he is. A slight pink flush spreads across his sharp cheekbones.

"It's...ahh, no, it's too embarrassing."

"Oh no. No, you can't do that, Sangie. Now you have to tell me."

He hesitates for another moment. You bend forward to lean your head on his shoulder and wrap your hands around his bicep. Ignoring the sensation of your stomach flipping, you peer up at him with your best puppy dog eyes.

"Pleaaaaaase," you whine. "Tell meeee."

He laughs again and drops his head toward you.

"You're gonna think I'm pathetic, but I sort of...well, I used to sort of be in love with you a little."

You cackle, assuming he's playing a joke on you.

"Yeah...right."

"No, I'm serious."

You quirk an eyebrow.

"Mhm, this coming from the same boy who refused to kiss me when I asked him to on the playground. You remember, don't you?"

His eyes go wide, and he points accusingly at you.

"You mean when you assaulted me?"

You gasp, shrieking and grabbing onto his hand.

"I did not! I did not assault you. We were playing tag, and you got me out. And I was sooo mad. I hugged you tight and said I wouldn't let you go until you made up for it by giving me a kiss."

"Yeah...and then you physically grabbed my face and made me do it."

"You still did it!"

"Of course I did it. I wanted to kiss you, I was just embarrassed."

You shake your head, folding your arms over your chest to fake pout. A few moments of comfortable silence pass, during which you decide to poke the bear a little more.

"I don't appreciate you making fun of me, though," you say. "I thought you had something serious to share."

He looks at you, smile dropping.

"Oh, I am serious."

Your grin falters, and you sit up straighter.

"What?"

"I wasn't joking, Y/N. I was being serious. I think I was sort of in love with you. For a long time, actually."

You can't help yourself—a laugh slips from your lips. A second after, you gasp and cover your mouth with your hand. You can feel burning spreading through your face and neck.

"See! I knew you would laugh! This is why I didn't wanna tell you."

"That's because it's ridiculous," you say, unsure if you're trying to convince him or yourself.

"Well, don't even worry about it," he says, waving his hand dismissively. "I'm not anymore, so we're all good."

Your heart drops. Why did you say that? Why did you make fun of him? He gave you the absolute perfect opportunity to tell him how you really feel, how you've really felt all these years. And you absolutely threw it away like trash. Then again, he just admitted he's not in love with you anymore...you wonder what happened to change his mind. Maybe it's for the best that you don't say anything.

"Why would you be in love with me, anyway?" you reply. "I'm just a regular person."

"What? What do you mean? Why wouldn't I? It makes perfect sense when you think about it."

"How so?"

"We've been friends for so many years. We understand each other better than anyone. We make each other laugh. Besides that, you're kind and funny and smart. And, of course, you're beautiful."

Your heart is pounding in your chest now. Hearing him call you all of those wonderful things and the way he thinks of you, how much you mean to him—you've been dreaming of hearing that for years. But you want him to mean it. You need him to mean it.

"Oh...I guess it does kind of make sense."

The corner of Yeosang's mouth quirks up but flattens back down a moment later. You both drop your heads and silence settles between you. The tension and awkwardness grow with every passing second. You gulp and sneak a peek at him. He's absentmindedly playing with his fingers. The veins in his hands flex with every movement, and your stomach churns in response.

"A you sure?" you blurt, pasting a mischievous smirk on your face.

"Hm?"

"Are you absolutely, positively sure that you're over me?"

He looks at you, eyes widened. He hesitates for a moment, his gaze searching yours.

"Yeah, I-I think so."

"Hmmm, I'm not convinced. Maybe we should...I don't know...test it?"

Yeosang straightens, tossing his head to shake his hair from his eyes. His stare is glued to you.

"How would we do that?"

"Oh, I have an idea."

Your heart races as you position yourself across from him. You sit on your knees, your gaze flicking between Yeosang's eyes and lips. You start to shift forward, bracing yourself by putting your hands on his thighs. His chest rises and falls rapidly. Gulping, you tilt your head.

You pause right in front of him, your eyes rolling to the side to meet his. Your breath shakes. Under the soft glow of the lamp, you can see that his eyes are dilated. You drop your stare down to his parted lips and lean forward slowly.

Yeosang remains still as a statue when you press your mouth to his. You squeeze your eyes shut tightly, the muffled sound of your racing heart echoing in your ears. When you pull back, your gaze returns to his. He holds your stare for a moment and then it all moves so fast.

His eyes drop to your lips, his hand slides across your neck and onto the back of your head, and the next thing you know, he's pulling your mouth to him.

He kisses you. Hard.

Your fingers dig into his strong thighs as you teeter forward. He angles his head to reach you deeper, his lips slipping between yours over and over and over again. Carried away by the moment, you swipe your tongue over his lower lip. He chuckles into your mouth, the sound low and gravelly. Goosebumps raise on your skin. He opens his mouth for you, and his free hand wraps around your arm.

You yelp when he jerks you forward. Your chest hits his with a thud. His hands are quick to curve around the backs of your thighs, maneuvering you onto his lap. Now straddling him, you wrap your greedy little fingers around his biceps.

He tilts his head back, giving you a different angle to taste him. You drop your hips, sitting yourself on top of his body. His fingertips dig into your thighs, creeping closer and closer to your ass.

You slide your hands under the hem of his shirt, frantically tugging it upward. He lifts his arms, and you pull it off. You bite your lip at the sight of him, skin smooth and muscled. Your hands move to his body like a magnet, and you whimper as you run your touch over his chest and stomach.

His lips attach to your jaw, trailing down to your neck with hot, open-mouthed kisses. Your head falls back, mouth dropping open shamelessly. One of his hands slides onto your back to support you while he attacks your throat. His tongue licks stripes over your skin. He pulls at the hem of your shirt, shoving it aside to reveal part of your shoulder. A moan escapes your lips as he sucks on the sensitive spot where your neck and shoulder meet. You can't help your hips as they shift on him. He grunts, his lips slipping from your neck.

Your eyes flash open, meeting his immediately. His chest heaves as he looks up at you, eyes blown wide.

"I thought I was over this—over you,” Yeosang says, voice rasped. He smirks. "But I'm not."

He surges forward, flipping you so that you're on your back on the floor with him on top of you. You instinctually wrap your legs around his waist to draw him closer. He responds by resuming his work on your neck.

You obediently tilt your head to the side to give him unrestricted access to your skin. Your touch snakes onto his back, fingertips tracing the chords of his muscles as his body expertly shifts above you. One of his hands slips onto the outside of your thigh, holding your leg against his hip.

"I'm in love with you, too," you blurt, out of breath. "I think I've always loved you. When I made you kiss me on the playground...since then. Every hour of every day."

He chuckles, the sound vibrating with heat against your neck.

"The kiss was that good, huh?"

You giggle, punching his arm, but inhale sharply when he catches your skin between his teeth. Your palms greedily slide over his skin in response.

"You've gotten a little better since then," you say teasingly. "And bigger."

He laughs again, freeing your neck. He braces himself on one arm as he looks down at you. You squirm underneath him as his glazed-over eyes size you up.

"Is this real?" he mutters.

"What? What do you mean?"

"I've dreamed about this for years, wondering what it would feel like."

"What what would feel like?"

"Loving you fully. Having you love me back. It doesn't feel possible."

Your heart aches, swelling with affection. You reach up to cup his cheek, tucking his hair behind his ear.

"It's real, Sangie. From now on, as long as you love me, I'll love you back. I promise. Do you promise, too?"

You hold your hand out, pinky outstretched. He chuckles but hooks his finger in yours. You curl your digits together, interlocking them firmly.

"Promise."

taglist: //

[joyfulhottubfuntik]

Here is an idea for a GF fic that my friend and I came up with which I'm not sure I'm gonna do anything with.

***

Ford calls his mom shortly before a family reunion that he's not sure about attending (given that he usually doesn't). Caryn joyfully tells him that Stan, who no one's really heard from in a while, is also gonna be coming for the first time since he was kicked out. And Ford is... well, he doesn't know how to feel about it. If anything, he is surprised. The first time Stan didn't try reaching out on their birthday and then on other family holidays, he kinda saw it as confirmation that heis brother really didn't want to come back and apologize. Family reunions never felt the same afterwards, so Ford just stopped coming. Now though... well, it's just strange and very unexpected. But a small part of him that he desperately tries to push down is hopeful that maybe Stan will finally apologize and perhaps they will at least be on speaking terms again.

So, against better judgement, Ford does go. And Stan is there, just like his mom said he would be. He seems to be doing well for himself, just like Ford thought he would, exuding confidence and chatting with people. What's strange is that their father is one of those people. Because Stan has never been so calm when speaking to him, and it's unbelievable to see, especially after all that has happened. Their father seems to have picked up on the confidence, something that he's always wanted his sons to exhibit, so maybe that, along with how well off Stan seems to be, may explain his change of attitude. Stan, however...

Eventually, Ford finally talks to him. It starts with an apology, a surprisingly straightforward one too: no averted eyes or nervous hand movements, no hasty explanations or excuses. In a way, that's all Ford has wanted: a straightforward genuine apology, an admission of guilt. But somehow that also feels entirely wrong, like someone playing the part of his brother in a play, doing it well, but only as well as someone reading from a script could. That's when Ford gets the creeping thought that whatever's in front of him is something that's pretending to be his brother.

Of course, at first he tries to write it off as just him being paranoid, especially seeing how the rest of the family doesn't seem to think anything's off. And, after all, it has almost been ten years. But the more he watches, the more he notices the numerous small inconsistencies, like all the mannerisms he clearly remembers from years ago being completely gone.

At last, Ford can't bear it anymore, so he decides to use something that is extremely personal (and painful) to both of them: their childhood dream. He casually comes up to Stan and starts a conversation. Eventually, Ford brings it up and Stan's reaction is something along the lines of "Well, that was just stupid, wasn't it? I mean, it's a childish dream, something we did to pass the time, but it could never work. Sometimes you just have to outgrow things like that, you know. I wish I had just done it sooner, rather than later". And it's so utterly wrong it's straight up uncanny. Like, of course, Ford did choose to pursue his own aspirations instead. Maybe Stan could find other things to do too, that's believable. But this doesn't mean the dream no longer matters, and for Stan out of all the people to talk about it like it doesn't and hasn't ever...

So, right then and there, Ford decides that, whoever he is talking to is not his brother. And thus he sets out on a mission to find out whatever happened and, most importantly, where Stanley actually is.

***

Or alternatively, Stan somehow stumbles upon some sort of mind reading supernatural creatures who pretty much push him to make a wish. That wish is kinda contradictory in itself, more so two of his deep wants combined: Stan wants his family to accept him and love him again, but he also wants to stop being himself, Stanley Pines, the homeless grifter and the screw up.

The solution to this problem is: a sort of magical clone of Stan is created, which is designed to, while mainly relying on Stan's own memories, act in a way that will make the people he cares about like him. Overtime, the copy will correct its mistakes and become more and more like the real thing, and Stan will forget who he is, which would free him of all his regrets and let him begin life anew.

The flaw with all of that? Stan severely underestimated how much his twin actually cares and how much he's willing to do for him.

***

I have no idea how this would actually go or work and neither does my friend. A rescue mission, a lot of upsetting realizations, that's for sure. Anyway, I like this idea too much to just let it quietly perish in our imaginations. So I'm putting it into yours too lol

[emma-o-yt]

We need to talk about Ursa

Edit: Just discovered more of the defunct lore. Nice to know that she is indeed a privileged Fire Nation loyalist. Roku and his wife were high born, only makes sense she would be too. She and Ozai were in love for real. They call her a wonderful mother yet say she has a favourite and spends most her time brainwashing her children to be loyalists like her. This actually aligns with what I said, she chastises Azula twice for her disloyalty and then for implying that her beloved husband has bad intentions. It mostly comes down to differences of opinion on what constitutes a good parent. Bryke things Aang was a good father but many in the fandom do not. I don't mind her being sweet, you can easily interpret her actions like that.

Now, I want to focus mainly on the cartoon as a lot of opinions about Ursa were formed before the comics came out and most people have only watched the cartoon.

First of all, most fandom beliefs about Ursa are headcanon, there is no evidence to back that up. This is a major problem I have with fandom where they treat fanon as canon. As for why these headcanons exist, well it's because Zuko likes her. That's all.

What we do get comes in Zuko Alone mainly. Her first scene has her feeding turtleducks with Zuko. When Zuko hurts one of them, her reaction is shock. She doesn't chastise him for it, keep that in mind and we know that she's not against chastising her children for perceived wrongdoings. She just laughs and says that moms are fiercely protective of their young, foreshadowing for later. This does not show her as kind.

We do have her push Zuko to play with Azula when he doesn't want to. Either because she wants to keep the peace or because she falls for Azula's manipulations.

The next time we see her, she's excited to hear from Iroh about the war and laughs as he says he might have to burn the city down. This shows her as very loyal to the Fire Nation as she cheers at the fact that many people are dying, being gravely injured and/or getting traumatised. In fact, two of the three times she gets angry at Azula are for Azula's disloyalty? Don't believe me?

The first is when Azula gives the hypothetical that if Iroh died, then Ozai would be Fire Lord. The next is when she disrespects Azulon by calling him grandfather instead of Fire Lord and denying the lie that he's in perfect health. Why is this disloyalty? Because Azulon has the same opinion. He rips Ozai apart for suggesting that he deny Iroh his birthright for grieving his beloved son. Funnily enough, I sometimes see people martyr Azulon as well for loving Iroh.

The last time is when she gets the most mad at Azula is for implying that Ozai would do something bad to Zuko. You can say that she's mad at Azula for trying to scare Zuko but I believe the former has more evidence. Remember, Azula was just parroting what Ozai said before. Ursa goes "what's wrong with that girl?" As in, she is not willing to acknowledge Ozai's bad influence. She'd rather confront her nine year old over her husband. That's a bad mom right there.

Continuing on her relationship with Azula, Azula states in The Beach that her own mother thought she was a monster. Even if Ursa didn't believe that, the fact that Azula felt so deeply wounded by her mother is enough to criticise Ursa for. Making your child feel unloved makes you a bad mom.

As for the hallucinations, remember this is just Azula's headspace. This is how Azula really feels, there is no proof Ursa ever felt this way. A simple reason why Azula had Ursa say this is because she didn't agree with the way Azula was going about as we see in Zuko Alone. She also feels betrayed by her mother, and she's just been betrayed by everyone. Azula is breaking down because fear didn't work this time. There is no proof that Ursa ever criticised Azula for using fear to her advantage. The worst Azula does in her flashbacks is repeat what Ozai says. Other than that, she's the equivalent of a schoolyard bully. She pushes Ty Lee for being better than her then plays a mean prank on Mai and Zuko because she knows they have a crush on each other.

"I love you Azula, I do." That's probably meant to be true. We never see it on screen of course but the fact that a Fire Nation loyalist like Ursa betrayed her own country, her own Fire Lord, to save her son makes me feel that it's likely.

As for her and Ozai, the only thing we see of them is that she's way too defensive of her dusty, so much in fact that she hurts her own daughter for his sake. Did she marry her out of love or was it arranged? We don't know? Did Ozai abuse her? We don't know. Zuko states that they were a happy family once and even fondly remembers playing with Azula despite not wanting to in Zuko Alone. This suggests that something happened between that time.

What we do know is that she was born into a high class family and was a descendant of Roku. We don't even know if she's a bender or not. She agrees wholeheartedly with the FN's atrocities. Is she a part of the war efforts? A diplomat? A spy? We don't see Ozai do anything in Zuko Alone either but we do know that the FN is fairly equal for men and women.

The fandom only martyrs her so much because Zuko loves her and she in return.

As for the comics, a lot of woobifying of Ursa came before them and many people haven't read them and still feel this way. The comics also contradict the cartoon many times, everyone is out of character, etc. Luckily, she is a bad mom there too. I hate the comics, I rated The Promise a 0/10 after all lol.

That's it. Stay diligent folks.

[quietwingsinthesky]

Me: im going to watch the doctor who tv movie tonight 👍

My mom: The movie? You mean the one we’ve had since you were a kid?

Me: no, you must be thinking of a different-

Her: This one?

Me: 😟

[malachitezmeyka]

You know... I tried to hold back, I really did. I tried to convince myself that I already have so much going on and genuinely do not have the mental capacity for something like this

I've managed to hold out for almost two whole weeks and my resolve was strong, but unfortunately the Ye Olde Hyperfixation was stronger

[dear-ao3]

so. as you may know it’s christmas eve. as you probably don’t know i am eastern european. and probably the only real tradition anyone holds onto is christmas eve. normally my great aunt does all the food and very begrudgingly sometimes lets everyone help make like. one thing.

well.

this year. the year of our lord two thousand and twenty four. she decided she was done cooking and it was up to everyone else.

so i got a phone call from my mom a few weeks ago being like hey so. you’re making the cake. got it? good.

the cake in question is a walnut cake. i was entrusted with my great aunts recipe about seven years ago. i’ve made it twice. the first time i fucked up the frosting quantity. the second time i fucked up the eggs. both times were passable at best and notably! my great aunt did not taste either of them.

and i have to make this cake. on christmas eve. it is dessert. for everyone. my extended family will all be eating the cake. the walnut cake. on christmas eve. even my great aunt.

so yesterday, december 23 if you are counting, i went on the annual Last Minute Christmas Food Shopping Trip with my father, watched him climb into the case to get his half and half like he does every year, and stressed about my cake as i made sure i had all of the ingredients.

then. we went to my great aunts house. where i was met with Trial Number 1: The Cognac

this cake has cognac in the frosting. not a big deal really. except for the fact that my mom hates that there is cognac in the frosting. (my mom is hell bent on making christmas eve dinner vaguely healthier. no one else agrees.) and i was to be making the cake in my moms house.

also important to note: we (as in my parents) do not own cognac. mostly because none of us drink.

so my great aunt is like oh i have to give you the cognac. cause she knows. i am baking the cake. the walnut cake. (my dad told her. he is a traitor). and i say okay. sure. this won’t be a problem at all.

so she gives me. a shot of cognac. and when i say a shot. i mean an Entirely Full Shot Glass of Three Hundred Dollar Cognac. in a jar. for the cake. the walnut cake. that i have to make.

upon bringing the cognac home my mom says no we’re not putting that in. the cognac sits on the counter in its jar. no one touches it.

then i was met with Trial Number 2: The Frosting.

this recipe requires a pound of chopped walnuts. first. i couldn’t even find the walnuts. my sister and i searched high and low and in every cabinet we could find but no nuts. i called my mom. and said mom where are the walnuts? and she said. “they’re in the nut bag behind the basement door.”

oh of course. how could i have missed the nut bag? a holiday bag full of bags of nuts that was half hidden by wrapping paper and also behind a door?

in any case. could i have used a food processor? absolutely. did i? no. half because i forgot and half because i didn’t want to accidentally grind the walnuts into a paste. so i enlisted the help of my younger sister to chop the walnuts By Hand while i embarked on the real devil: the frosting.

which remember. is supposed to have cognac.

so i cream my butter. i add my sugar. i’m careful not to over sugar. i taste it a million times. i add my coffee and my vanilla extract (instead of cognac. which is still sitting on the counter) and it was all going so well until. the butter rebelled.

now remember. one time when i made this. seven years ago. i made too little frosting. so i made more this time. and i thought i had all my conversions right but evidently i did not because suddenly there was too much liquid in my frosting and it split.

the frosting for the walnut cake that everyone was going to eat. on christmas eve. the very next day.

i felt like a contestant on great british bake-off getting smited by the tent.

so i did the logical thing and shoved the whole mess into the fridge hoping that it would sort itself out overnight.

then it was time to face Trial Number Three: The Cake Itself.

as i have said this cake is a walnut cake. the christmas eve walnut cake that has been at christmas eve longer than i have been alive. and it requires no less than ten egg whites. which i whipped and i added to my walnuts and shoved the whole thing into the oven in my two baking dishes.

only to discover no less than 40 minutes later that the batter in the pans was Not Even (despite my best efforts). so i cooked one longer than the other and hoped that i hadn’t monumentally fucked up the walnut cake. like i had the frosting. which was in the fridge. and i was ignoring.

which leads to Trial Number Four: The Egg Yolk Cake

see i had ten egg yolks. i didn’t know what to do with them. my mom said flush them. my dad said make a custard. i proposed making egg nog. my mom said she didn’t want it in the house cause it was too fattening (a blatantly incorrect statement. please, if you are reading this, go drink a glass of eggnog. or some other fun festive drink. food is for the soul.) so i produced a recipe for an egg yolk pound cake. i made it. i still don’t know if it came out good cause i haven’t tasted it. i hope it did. but that was not the point. the point is the walnut cake. the christmas eve walnut cake.

and the following morning i was met with Trial Number Five: The Frosting Part 2

first i threw my failed frosting back in the mixer and it immediately secreted a brackish combination of vanilla extract and coffee so i did the only thing i could. facetimed my dad and said “father there are problems abound.” and he gave me the fatherly advice of “make it again.”

and so i did.

with more correct measurements. still scared it would split at any second.

though it didn’t.

and i didn’t add the cognac.

maybe no one will be able to tell???

my mom said that if anyone asks the first batch of frosting failed and i had to toss it. this is technically true.

but i had frosting. i had two uneven cakes. and it was time for Trial Number Six: Decorating

decorating cakes is easily in my top ten least favorite activities. decorating the christmas eve walnut cake is easily in my top three least favorite activities. because i am terrible at decorating cakes. and also because it has a filling.

the filling is jam. and i once again made the wrong choice because i put the jam on first before the frosting. which to be fair is what the directions say. but as everyone knows, the directions in recipes you get from your eastern european great aunt are not the real directions. so now i had to smear butter cream. on top of jam. for the filling of the walnut cake. for christmas eve. that we would be eating in a few hours.

and we didn’t have a cake plate. we had a large dish.

i had to use my fingers. i had to use three spatulas. i got jam everywhere. but i did it. and as soon as i set the top cake on top of the filling i realized my monumental mistake: i was supposed to trim down the cakes.

so now they were uneven. and lopsided. and there was nothing i, a mere mortal tasked with the impossible task of making christmas eve walnut cake, could do about it.

so i continued to spread my frosting. which i had enough of. and tried and failed to not get jam everywhere.

in the end it was almost presentable. not great. slightly lopsided. and definitely not as nice as any of my great aunts cakes.

which left me with Trial Number 7: Chilling It

our fridge was being taken up by other important christmas eve things (though not as important as my cake. the walnut cake) so i had to put it in the car. which was fine because there is snow on the ground.

i covered my cake. the walnut cake. in tin foil and hoped i wouldn’t accidentally squish it. and then i went outside. i tried to steal my moms shoes to walk outside. she was not impressed.

“you know, saph,” she said. “some of the time you’re pretty great. the other half of the time you’re really weird.”

i could not agree more.

i put my cake on the trunk. prayed to the cake gods and went inside.

on the one hand if the cake is good, i will be stuck making walnut cake for christmas eve for the rest of my life. on the other hand, if it sucks i will never have to make another one.

Trial Number Eight: The Tasting still waits.

[cheswirls]

ah i could not help myself. checked onk for a detail on the movie arc and ended up rereading the entire movie arc, then bit the bullet and read up to current. not as many chapters as i thought considering how long ago i was "caught up" and that onk is a weekly?? i guess there were breaks. almsot made me think it was a monthly series. with how little there was

tbh if i had waited til the end of the year that would have been perfect. it rly seems like there are not many chapters left. even where i left off tho, it was enough where again i wasn't dying to know what happened next, so i can wait for it to finish if it finishes this year :) maybe spoiler-y rant in tags for past 5-6 chapters

[today-i-am-thinking-about]

the disney channel reality tv series bug juice

[7nuh]

WAS IT 'CASUAL' WHEN...? — TWST 1ST YEARS

Headcanons on the 'casual' things you do with him that made him wish that there was something more between you.

CW 𓂃 sfw, gn!reader, reader is implied to fit in Deuce's clothes in his part, pining

CHARAS 𓂃 Ace Trappola, Deuce Spade, Jack Howl, Epel Felmier, and Sebek Zigvolt

AN 𓂃 mostly* edited now 😎👍

ACE TRAPPOLA — you slept in the same bed?

Ramshackle isn't exactly known for having the best facilities or furniture, and that is a fact Ace has to make peace with whenever he gets kicked out by Riddle. It's always a little too chilly at night and the floors still creak beneath his feet. Even with a makeover, half of the beds are broken and that stiff couch downstairs is your next best bet at getting some semblance of sleep.

You insisted you really didn't mind sharing a bed at all and Ace took you up on your offer. In his words, "if you say so then!" Just create an invisible partition down the middle and the two of you should be fine. Sure, yeah, that'll be infinitely more comfortable than the couch, and Ace absolutely agrees. He repeats the thought to himself over and over again— this is supposedly the better alternative, isn't it?

Yeah, totally. He tries to convince himself that it's really not a big deal for him to be inches away from you at night and feel your warmth spreading through the sheets. God, you'd think he's a weirdo if you woke up and caught him staring right now, but he could always twist it into a dumb joke about your sleeping face looking like an ogre. Consequently, he would have to watch your face twist in annoyance and pretend he wasn't watching every rise and fall of your chest. He would rather lose his magic entirely than admit the ugly truth and make himself vulnerable to you.

Ace does realize he's being embarrassingly sappy and romantic, and he's disgusted at himself for these thoughts, but he can't help it. He can't change the fact your lips look so soft and your eyelashes are so pretty. This is freaking him out so much more than it should. Does this really mean nothing to you? Do really only see him as a friend? Fine, then the two of you are just friends sharing a bed then!

It's really nothing! Ace was the one who joked about it months ago, after all. But things (and his feelings) have changed and he cannot ignore that. Back then it wouldn't have been such a big deal, but now it is and he cannot calm his heart down no matter how hard he tries.

You're right there. It's not the first time he had to share a bed with someone but it's different now because it's you. He did the math and the two of you are only 10 inches apart. Ace almost reaches for you in his weakest moment until he remembers that the two of you are supposedly just two friends sharing a bed. You're doing him a favor by sheltering him for the night, that's all.

Ace retracts his hand right away at the very last second. He might have as well taken the goddamn couch (lest either of you wake up in each other's arms).

DEUCE SPADE — he lent his clothes?

You came here with next to nothing. You had exactly one change of clothes and pocket lint for change, so Deuce, being the righteous and honorable student that he is, decided to lend you some of his clothes for the meantime. It's what a good friend would do! It's a temporary arrangement that would last only until Crowley spares enough change for you to buy another set of uniforms.

But this arrangement drags on for so long even when you have a functional closet and multiple sets of better-fitting clothes. Deuce never really noticed until recently that a third of your (albeit very limited) wardrobe actually belongs to him. But whenever you tug on his sleeves for his latest sweater, he doesn't have the heart to tell you no.

When he went home during break, his mom even noticed that certain sweaters and shirts had gone missing. "I left them at the college," he tells her as to not worry her. It's technically the truth— it's back with you in the college (and you're probably wearing them right now; the mental image is enough to fluster him all of the sudden when it never did before). He has to get them back eventually since those clothes are his. He's sure you wouldn't mind? Right?

Simply asking for them back is the difficult part for Deuce. You're there in front of him wearing one of his older shirts that fit snugly around your figure and he's at a loss for words. It's worn down and outright hideous as hell but the very first thought that comes to mind is that you look good in it.

Ah, yeah. You walk around campus on non-school days wearing his clothes 1/3rd of the time and nobody else knows that those jackets and shirts and sweaters and button-ups are all his. You make even the ugliest ones look good, or maybe it's because you're the wearer and you always looked good to him? Do his eyes need to be checked...? Deuce is tortured by these thoughts while merrily go about your day. You're laughing at something stupid that Grim said and he can't hear anything else. There's a fight in the courtyard but he can't see anything else. There's a midterm tomorrow but he can't think of anything else. You're too distracting.

When you finally do remember to return a shirt or two, Deuce tells you there's really no need to return them. He insists that they're better off with you, but you laugh and remind him that you're no longer the same pathetic charity case you were at the start of the year.

The truth is, your scent still lingers on recently returned shirts. It's the closest he'll get to being skin-to-skin with you, and Deuce is supposed to ignore that but he cannot. Or maybe he's the only one making this weird for the two of you because it doesn't seem to bother you in the slightest (and he's bothered by that).

But when Deuce looks at the recently returned shirts in his hands, he hopes he has a chance. He hopes you think of him as much as he thinks of you. He hopes the odds of him not actually liking you after all make your guts churn and set butterflies in your chest at the same time. He hopes he isn't the only one yearning for used shirts, lingering scents, and ghost touches. But at the same time, you've only ever asked these kinds of favors from him... Deuce doesn't want to assume anything, but a blush creeps upon his cheeks all the same and he continues to hope for more.

JACK HOWL — you played with his ears and tail?

Beastmen weren't a thing back in your world, so seeing them regularly made you morbidly curious about their animalistic features. Jack was easily the best candidate to satisfy your intrusive thoughts because just who else could you ask about this? Leona wasn't exactly an option and Ruggie might rope you into some scheme of his. And Jack owed you a favor, after all, so this is what you decided to ask of him.

Jack's ears twitched— did he hear you correctly? His face scrunches up in confusion because you barely knew each other for you to be asking something like this. How could you ask something so personal from him? It's in your innocently eager expression that he realizes what's going on... you just didn't know. Fine, it should mean nothing to you and thus he agrees to let you pet his tail and ears for five seconds. Maximum.

It's supposed to be a one time thing but he finds him involuntarily offering up his tail whenever you look him like that. He's not even sure how it got to this point. After all, there are romantic connotations of having your tail petted by someone else and... nevermind. Ruggie and Leona have started simultaneously teasing him over it the very moment they caught wind of this peculiar arrangement. It doesn't help that Jack's tail is particularly sensitive and reactive, but he keeps a straight face no matter how much it embarrasses him.

Jack doesn't understand why you're so fascinated by his tail and ears because there are so many others just like him. However, he supposes it's not an entirely terrible feeling, though, to have your fingers absentmindedly rake across his tail and hair as the two of you study. It's relaxing, even, but he won't tell you that. Jack will never tell you that it gives him goosebumps all over and makes him shiver whenever you play with his tail. Or that he's begun wondering what it would be like to have your hands elsewhere, or for him to touch you in similar ways in return.

He doesn't understand why he craves your company but doesn't question it either. All he knows is that your hands are so soft and gentle and that he likes the way the corner of your eyes crinkle when you smile in satisfaction. And when you hum a soft tune as the gap between the two of you closes, he wonders if he's the only one feeling this tension.

"Again?" Jack huffs. The pretext of this being a silly favor has been long forgotten. He should probably tell you soon that you shouldn't be doing this, but you just look so pleased with yourself when the two of settle down in a lesser-known corner of the library. The routine persists, the cycle continues. Hours later, the both of you have gone through multiple bags of chips, two movies on his laptop, and his tail is now comfortably curled around your abdomen as you read a book and he tends to his beloved cactus.

Again? Jack silently asks himself whenever he sees your face in a crowd. Could the two of you spend hours in a comfortable silence while the unsaid implications haunt him? He's started to ask himself— were you just playing dumb at this point or just plain stupid? Or what if you had known all along and the two of you were just dancing around it?

EPEL FELMIER — you kissed him?

Epel eventually learns to use the way others perceive him to his advantage; there's strength in appearing to be weak and striking when the iron is hot. Still, he couldn't help but wish to be seen for his talents and strength instead of his beauty at the first glance. The first assumption everyone makes of him, for god's sake, is that he's a fragile little thing from a rich family, and, quite frankly, he's sick of it.

So he's secretly delighted when none of his charms worked on you and you yank him by the ear for even attempting. A few curse words and rough shoves later, both of you are on the floor, grappling and wrestling against each other. The two of you are laughing so hard and swearing so loudly that you'll probably wake up the rest of Pomefiore at this rate, but neither of you care. It's just the two of you right now grasping at each other like your life depended on it.

It's a nice change of pace to be openly exchanging insults instead of restraining himself. He enjoys the comfortable rhythm the two of you share— from all the brawls and the bantering and the hugs and to the kisses on the cheek. Yes, kisses. They started as simple thank you's after a few favors here and there, and just one of them is enough to make a mess out of Epel for weeks. Better yet, you only seem to be showering him with more and more of your attention and he relishes in it.

Ah, things are finally working out for him! He found someone he could confide in and he's sure that there's a spark between the two of you. By the end of the year, he might have someone to bring home and brag about to his relatives—

All the momentum halts when he sees you across the hall granting the rest of your friends the same levels of affection. From all the brawls to the bantering to the hugs and the kisses, none of those were ever solely his to take delight upon. It doesn't matter that he opened up to you about all his fears and insecurities because he was never special. You were just the kind of person who got along and felt comfortable with everyone around you, but Epel hates that he has no one to blame but himself. He willingly walked your warmth but it was never his to take.

It finally dawns upon him that you have never seen him in a romantic light and that was why you were so comfortable around him. In retrospect, the bond you two shared was more sibling-like than anything— and believe him when he says he's incredibly grateful that the two of you were that close —but it doesn't make it hurt any less to know that your affections never carried any romantic intentions after he had pinned for you for so long.

Even when he takes a step back, you're cruel in a roundabout way by continuing to be so kind and loving towards him. How was Epel supposed to make sense of your relationship after realizing he misunderstood you...?

And he also hates to admit this, but his self-confidence takes a huge blow from this. Epel genuinely thought he could be loved for who he was based on the time you spent together. It gnaws at him and eats him alive to finally know the truth, and sometimes he wishes he never found out at all.

SEBEK ZIGVOLT — you wrote him love letters?

So, Sebek asked (demanded) to be penpals...

It's all because Lilia told him it would be a good exercise of diplomacy, he insisted. As the young master's bodyguard, he will have to be as courteous as possible even in unpleasant company. He also rationalized, admittedly partly because of you, that forging bonds with magicless humans may be a worthwhile endeavor after all! It's all rather suspicious (and you suspect his real intentions have something to do with your friendship with Malleus), but Sebek has never been one to lie about his intentions. If anything, the popular opinion was that he's a little too honest and should learn a thing or two about holding back.

There's something very unconventional in sending handwritten letters in this day and age of modern technology, but also something very romantic and fantastical— much like the many fictional knights he had read about. It helps a lot that he's not directly confronted by the fact you are very much a magicless human who shouldn't be in NRC whenever he spills out his heart's contents unto multiple pages. It was a way for him to release his frustrations, celebrate his achievements, and talk about the dull, little things thats happened in his day-to-day life to someone who listened.

And listen you did. Turns out, when you're not subjected to his 1000 decibel shouting, Sebek is a rather earnest guy who worked hard and acknowledged others who also worked equally as hard no matter their disposition. To say the least, you understand why Lilia found it so entertaining to tease him.

It completely flies over his head that you had been flirting with him for months through these letters. Your everyday interactions with each other had been completely normal, so how was he supposed to notice?! It takes multiple rereads and many late-night discussions with the other Diasomnia dormers to decode and understand all the double entendres and hidden 'i love you's' in each and every letter. It was so needlessly difficult, but Lilia laughs in his face and pats him at the back for a job well-done.

"There's no way," he thinks to himself late at night and finds himself doubting Lilia's claims for once. But when Sebek steals a glance in your direction and you smile back in return, he's never felt weaker in his knees. You're absolutely and undeniably magic-less... but somehow you had casted a spell that made his chest tighten and shut him up. He hadn't even realized how much time he was spending with you and thinking about you when he wasn't.

Except nothing has changed in-person. You're acting like you hadn't meticulously hidden your affections for him in those letters, and he was starting to seriously doubt all of it. Yeah, were you event smart enough to pull off all that? As some magic-less human?

Actually... Sebek realizes that you are capable of outsmarting him after getting to know you much better through those letters. He's never been one to deny where credit it was due. Now, Sebek's just deeply ashamed that he failed to accurately assess your character before making judgements based on superficial traits. He knows better than anyone that you're witty, charming, brave, kind, beautiful, ambitious—

Oh no.

Oh no.

Sebek simply explodes on the spot once he realizes that he had been oblivious to his own feelings for you too. He had thoroughly examined every aspect of this conundrum except from within. Quite embarrassing from an esteemed knight of the prince of nocturnal fae to be this slow, really.

[cheriecoke]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ LOOK, MOM! — nanami kento

yuuji accidentally calls you mom

contents: nanami x fem!reader, husband nanami hehe, this is very silly and random and stupid, fluff, nanami & reader are yuuji's adoptive parents fr, words: 1059

“nanamin!” yuuji waves at the figure approaching from behind you, a flashy grin appearing on his face as he glances at the blonde man over your shoulder. “i didn’t know you were coming by today!”

kento's hair sweeps over his forehead in the wind, a few strands coming free as he heads towards you. it's a brisk day, and he has two hot coffees in his hands that he'd picked up after his mission.

a bead of sweat drips down yuuji's temple, and he wipes it with his sleeve, still breathing heavily. you'd spent the last hour training together, pushing his physical capabilities. gojo had been busy recently, between all the missions and his conversations with the higher ups.

so, of course, you'd volunteered to teach the newest student when he couldn't. quickly, he became your favorite of the three first years.

“i’m in between assignments.” kento hands you the coffee, places a gentle hand on your lower back with a smile that is hardly there. “mind if i steal my wife away for a bit?”

yuuji shrugs, his face still bright as he glances between the two of you. ever since he’d found out two of his favorite sorcerers were together, he’d hardly shut up about it.

“no problem. i’m going to meet up with fushiguro anyway.” he brushes the dirt off his pants, waving to the two of you.

“good job today, yuuji!” grateful for something to warm you up in the chilly air, you take a sip of the coffee. it’s perfect, as always, just what you needed. “you’re improving a lot!”

he grins, proud of his accomplishments. “thanks, mom! see you later!”

there's an elongated moment of silence.

you choke on your coffee as kento stiffens beside you, watching while yuuji comes to a skittering halt.

all three of you freeze. you cough, clearing your throat, and kento's hand, steady on your back, has stilled. “yuuji—“

“oh,” the teenager says, his face turning bright red as he realizes what he’s called you. he glances between the two of you, embarrassment evident. “i’m so sorry. i didn’t mean to—“

though, you don’t give yuuji enough time to protest. within seconds, you’ve gathered him up in your arms, squeezing the younger boy to your chest. “kento, we have a son!”

you feel yuuji tense, before he relaxes, and throws his arms around you in an even tighter hug. there’s some sort of thanks resting there. he laughs, carefree, a sound you never want to be taken away from the boy who manages to shine so brightly in such a dark world.

kento stares at you, folds his glasses up in his pocket, as if to show you both how unimpressed he is. “do we?” he asks, lips flat, though, you see through the facade to the amusement hidden in his irises. “i'm certain i would’ve remembered something like that.”

you make a face at him, covering yuuji’s ears dramatically. “oh, don’t listen to your dad, yuuji. he’s old, he doesn’t know what he’s saying.”

kento blinks, and then sighs, wrinkling his nose. though, when he sees yuuji’s wide grin, his eager expression, he decides to play along.

“well, then... there must be a lapse in my memory." kento crosses his arms over his chest as he regards the two of your extensively, searching for something. "that would certainly explain the striking resemblance between us.” he says drily.

yuuji laughs, a loud snort. he looks nothing like either of you, but you’re not sure he’s ever gotten to witness kento's sarcastic sense of humor, the one that not everyone really gets.

“exactly!” yuuji quips back to kento’s blank expression. "everyone tells me i have the same smile as my dad!

kento’s trying hard not to let yuuji win that one, but you can see the slight wrinkle around his eye, the tiny quirk of his lips. beside the pink haired boy, you choke out a few giggles, covering your mouth.

“yes," kento nods, solemn. "i’ve heard that as well.”

"so you do know how to make jokes, nanamin!" yuuji shouts, nearly jumping in the air as he cheers. "i can't wait to tell fushiguro this."

kento rolls his eyes, but yuuji’s so pleased, and he releases you, his eyes soft and bright as he pulls away.

though he doesn’t say it, doesn't thank you for anything, you can tell he’s grateful. itadori yuuji may be happy with his life as it is now, may have found a home within the friends he’s made at the high school, but you know he misses his grandfather. sometimes, perhaps, he even longs for the conventional family he never really got to have.

you ruffle his hair, the pink strands catching between the cracks of your fingers. “tell him i said hello too.”

yuuji nods, stuffing his hands in his pocket as he steps away. “i will!” his cheerful gaze is pinned on your husband, a secretive smile making a home on his lips. “bye, dad.”

kento shakes his head, and sighs again, though you can tell, a part of him is touched to have won so much of yuuji's admiration. “have a good evening, itadori.”

you watch the young boy scurry away, hands in his pockets as he braces himself against the cold.

"you should be nicer to your son, kento."

kento snorts, throwing an arm over your shoulder as he brings you closer to him. "i am nice to him," he says, kissing your temple softly. "a little hard on him, maybe, but i just don't want anything bad to happen to him."

you soften, look up at him with warm eyes, and you squeeze the hand that is resting on your shoulder. "i know," you say, your heart clenching. you've thought about it before, thought of kento with a tiny child that looks just like him, cradled against his chest. thought of him with a little girl whose hair he can braid, a little boy he can raise to be a gentleman.

but you hadn't talked about it; you'd always thought your life was too busy, too dangerous for children.

"you'd make a good dad, ken," you say, your cheeks flushed as you grin at him.

kento's eyes flash. "really?" an array of emotions scurries across his features before he leans down, kissing you softly. "is this your way of telling me you want a baby, sweetheart?" his voice deepens as he whispers against your lips, smiling. "because i'm more than happy to give you one."

[prettiest-thing-in-the-morgue]

PULL ME IN

summary: due to Bruce distancing himself from reading and seeing other women - batfam has to watch their mom willow away.

For the twenty-five years, Bruce and Name have been married together - Alfred has never seen Name so withdrawn - so detached . He watches every morning how Name's frail body maneuvers around the kitchen making her own breakfast -

God knows how many times he's asked that stubborn woman to allow him to cook for him but she has always refused him with a quiet smile and a wave of hand. He watches her glide around the kitchen- a woman of once poise and grace reduced to her fumbling with simply holding a cereal box.

Alfred could never pin point where it had all went wrong in their marriage - they were both high-school sweethearts- their marriage was beautiful- he'd know because he had honored it himself. To see them so distant aches his heart.

Alfred knows Bruce has a mission - to save Gotham- a mission that seems ever lasting - a mission that had consumed him entirely to the point it took him over . It took away his relationship with his kids and his own wife .

Alfred would always shoot him disapproving looks when he sees Bruce being too flirty with Talia and Selina - he blesses Name's heart for loving Damian all the same like she has with all her other kids but Alfred notices since then she is virtual never in the same place with Bruce.

She no longer goes to galas anymore , no longer makes public appearances - maybe its because Bruce always had a different arm candy every other night. It's gotten so bad that even the kids started realizing this - Damian , upon realizing his birth had broken down in Name's arms one night - pleading with her to love him - that he's sorry for being born.

Alfred remembers Name cradling the young boy in her arms all night and assuring him he's the best thing Bruce ever made and that she would never blame him for Bruce's actions. Since then - the young boy has always stuck to Name - every morning, he'd affectionately hand her daily medicine and would always help her wrap a shawl over her shoulders.

Tim and Bruce began arguing - particularly because Bruce starting leaving the massive work of W.E for Tim to handle- it came to a head one night when Name and Bruce argued for two hours straight. He remembered how raw her voice was when she yelled at Bruce for overworked her poor son - that he's young and deserves to live and experience his teenage years.

Bruce had argued that Tim had wanted this - that this was what being Robin was about. Jason- god knows Jason and Bruce doesn't get along - ever since what happened to Joker but they argue even worse when it boils down to Name .

Jason was a child primarily raised by Name - she taught him to trust and showed him everything he knew - down to ironing his shirt to tying his shoelace - Name was the mother Jason never had and God could damn for all he cares but couldn't stand to watch Bruce treat her like she was an option because she wasn't - not to him or his brothers.

Jason always made it a point to call Bruce out for his own hypocrisy, himself and Damian always teamed up against him, especially when he was being too flirty with Selina or some random eye candy.

" I suggest you back off harlot , my mother might not kill you, but I will " - Damian when Bruce and Selina were flirting together on patrol.

" I don't give a fuck if ma begs me not to put a bullet in your head , the next damn time I see you talking about her like that I won't hesitate to skin you alive " - Jason when he caught some arm candy bragging to her friends how the 'Bruce Wayne' took her out on a date in front of Name.

God if anyone argues more with Bruce in this household was Dick - Dick was their first child and a child whom lost everything and yes Bruce may of made him robin but name made him dick grayson - bless that woman's heart for having to deal with his tantrums and outbursts when he was younger -

But that woman despite not birthing him was his mother - the woman who literally hugged him everynight to go to bed , the same woman who made his suit for prom by hand and also the same woman he goes to for advice and comfort - safe to say when he heard what Bruce was doing - they argued non stop-

" For god sake, Bruce, you're destroying us - you're destroying our family, and you don't even care." - Dick when Bruce had called you useless because you couldn't walk up a stairs anymore.

Someone from the outside might think they're dramatic, but ever since Bruce started distancing himself from Name and going out with God knows who , Name has fallen into a deep depression - a type of depression that ensnared them in their deep claws and deprive them of what little happiness and energy they have left.

Most days , Name sits on a swing outside and just exists- barely eats , barely talks anymore - how can they ? How can one fathom to be happy when their own spouse is out cheating on you with different people and to make matter worse the public condones it - even more so enables him.

Always publishing some new article of which new model or actress can become worthy of being Bruce's wife as if she doesn't exist. Alfred swallows as he watches her tonight - they're sat stiffly in a velvet love seat , a faint smile on her face, Damian is resting his head on their shoulder, showing them his latest art piece while quietly talking about his day.

Behind her, jason embraces her in a backhug , head resting on her head - his hands sometimes play with the loose strands. Tim quietly sits beside her , his hand holding her free hand - now and again he'd squeeze it . Dick is sat next to Damian on the love seats' arm rest as he prepares her nightly medicine.

Even if the public and her own husband loathes her, name still has the love of her kids and Alfred as always. Suddenly, the large oak doors of the living room are pushed open - the vibrant warmth interrupted as Bruce steps inside .

Damian quiets - everyone looking at Bruce except for Name - she has taken it to state at her hands. " It's time for patrol" Bruce says grufly . No one responds but reluctantly leaves Name side , Jason side hugs her one last time before leaving .

" Yeah, whatever you say, geaser," He says as he shoves Bruce out of his way to go to the cave . Damian glares at his father , " Hopefully, things are taken seriously on this patrol " he insinuated- knowing eyes glaring right at his father disapproving.

Bruce ignores them and stares at name, " Make dinner before we leave " he orders before promptly walking away. Name says nothing - too numbed out a long while to even react. Dick and Alfred himself curses him while Tim is glaring at the closing door harshly .

" Ma I'll order us something don't stress yourself " Tim assures her while ordering Uber eats for them on his phone . Name doesn't say anything but sends him a small smile. " I can't believe I raised that boy," Alfred murmurs as he shakes his head in disappointment .

Bruce may not realize it now but it's too late to fix anything - too late to pull his wife back in and live the happy life they once had - its too late to repair their broken family since the glue that's stuck them all together is fading away .

ty for reading, please like + comment + share !!!

pls do not hate a on queens talia & selina they won't do this , theyre too girlboss for bruce anyways

[call-memissbrightside]

All I can think about is Katsuki dating someone with a baby—

His friends think it’s a bit odd since he’s in his early thirties and could still mess around before settling down but he’s not having it

You’re a bit nervous to tell him that you had a kid after a few dates, and you think he’s never going to hit you up again when he doesn’t really respond when you tell him, he just drops you off at your place with a emotionless look on his face.

You cry to yourself that night as you put your little girl to bed, and the two year old knows something’s wrong because she’s fussy through the whole night routine. You really liked Bakugou, he made you laugh and respect you but if he can’t accept your daughter than it's not going to work out.

Then the next morning he texts you that he got tickets for three to the local aquarium for the day. You call him, confused.

“That way we can take your daughter?” He’s confused by your question. “Why? Is she too little for the aquarium?”

You’re nervous as hell for him meeting Mai for the first time, but Katsuki is taken back at how your daughter looks just like you. She's adorable, and his stomach flipped taking in how you looked so beautiful in your jeans and simple shirt.

"Hi Mai, I'm Katsuki," He kneels down to the four year old's height but he's so big and the little girl immedietly burst into tears and hides behind your legs.

"Oh honey, it's okay," You coo at her, picking her up. Mai isn't convinced and hides away from Katsuki.

"I'm sorry, she'll warm up," You explain, but you weren't too sure. Mai had a shy personality, and was very attatched to you. You just hoped that Bakugou would be patient with her.

Mai started shedding her shy personality once you arrived at the aquarium.

"Mom, fish!" She yelled in excitement, tugging on your hand to get you to walk faster. Katsuki stands back and just watches you interact with your daughter. He knew he liked you, but seeing you be a mom did something to him and he imagined this being his life forever.

"What are you thinking about?" You asked when you noticed Katsuki seemed distracted.

He opens his mouth to answer but Mai interupts him when she squeals, "Mommy penguins!"

Katsuki was closer to her, and the little girl grabs his hand and drags him through to the penguin exhibit. Bakugou is taken aback, but quickly pushes back his fear of scaring her and kneels down to look at the penguins swimming as Mai squeals in excitement. She can’t pronounce his name correctly, so Mai just addresses him as ‘Suki which warms his heart.

It’s like a switch got flipped and Mai wouldn’t let go of Katsuki’s hand for the remainder of the tour through the aquarium. You stand back, smiling and snapping pictures, just watching as Bakugou showed a much softer side to him.

The day ended with Katsuki buying Mai the biggest stuffed penguin the aquarium store had, and the little girl could barely hold onto it as she fell asleep in her stroller.

“You didn’t have to get her that,” You said, feeling overwhelmed by his gesture.

Bakugou feels a string of anxiety pull in his stomach, wondering now if his actions were seemed as inappropriate.

“I-,” He tries to be truthful, “I’m sorry, I should’ve asked. Mai just seemed so happy and I wanted to get her something to remember me by.”

That melts your heart, and you kiss him on the cheek. “Thank you for being so sweet to my baby.”

Katsuki is blushing so hard, his ears are ringing as he helps you by packing down the stroller and putting it in the trunk while you tuck Mai into her car seat. The little girl was out, but still hugging her penguin.

Katsuki keeps the radio low as to not wake Mai as he drives you two home, holding your hand and already planning the next outing.

[sbcdh]

"It wasn't one thing, you know, it was like, everything. Everything just kinda happened slow. It wasn't fast. It was slow.

It was, uhh... 1964, I think. LBJ was in office. Yeah, 1964. The government rolled out the whole hypnoeconomics thing in uh, sophomore year. Something like that. I didn't really watch the news, but I remember everyone talking about the election. I remember it being a big deal but, you know, seems like every time the government does something it's a big deal, you know? It's always like, fine. It's always fine.  

 I had just graduated from UC Santa Ana. I had a degree in photography. What do you even do with that? Photography. It was hard at first, shopping a portfolio around, doing weddings. I had a gig going for some real estate company. That was alright. Taking pictures of empty houses for speculators. Something like that. I didn't know the specifics. I was good at it. It's not hard once you know the equipment, and what the client wants. But you get tired of it, you know? You get tired of it.

My mom wasn't the nicest lady. She's my mom but, you know how mom's are. The only thing to do in west Texas was go to church. I was raised really Christian, and Santa Ana was just so different. I didn't know many people. I had a job that didn't feel right, no friends, no family, no church. So I was looking for a church. You got all sortsa stuff out here, you know? You know the Navigators right? That big megachurch? The first chapel was like, a 20 minute drive from student housing. There were always people out preaching in the quad.

It was a girl. Uh, Nadine. Nadine Galt. We had a 101 class together. Math, I think. We really hit it off. She was just funny, you know? She said she was from out of state too, had a really pretty gold cross necklace. I think she polished it. We had similar upbringings you know? Small Town girl, big city, not many friends. That sorta thing. She invited me to a party. A jewelry party.

I asked her "what was that" and she explained the whole concept to me. How she was an independent seller, how she had all these friends, how she was gonna buy us wine and food and show us the stuff she had this month. I liked her. It sounded fun. It was fun.

She said she did that every month. I didn't know too many people, and it was a good way to meet people, you know? I may have paid a bit much for some bracelets, but hey, she was good at selling bracelets. I looked forward to the jewelry parties. I did. Every month I looked forward to them.

I had been going for maybe a year, year and a half, and she asked me if I wanted to become a seller like her. She did it slow, you know, every once in a while she would ask me to stay after the party. I didn't think I could do it. I had a degree in photography, what did I know? But she layed it on thick. Told me I was just what she was looking for. And, well, she said the money was good. I needed money. Or, I had money, but I needed more you know? She made it sound so, well, important. Said we needed to do this, that a market needed competition, you know? That the hypnoeconomists couldn't really track people like us. She said we were "essential to a free financial dreamscape." She made it sound like we were a pair of cowgirls out on the open range together. She said I would be a natural.

And you know what? I was pretty good. At first at least. At first it was just helping out Nadine with her stuff, but she taught me how to talk, introduced me to her distributors, even taught me how to look for new clients. I held a party for some of my clients in real estate. Bought out a whole section of a fancy restaurant and invested in nice cases from the distributor. It didn't go well. I didn't make much profit at all. I think they were mostly pity-buying. I didn't make a cent.

All gold. Yep, all gold. And that wasn't a lie either. It had to be gold, or it wouldn't work.

Nadine went missing in, uh, 67 I think. I was heartbroken. And worried, you know? I was worried sick. Everyone was reaching out, asking if I was alright. Hell, excuse my language, even my mama reached out. Called me on the phone, said I was in her prayers.

The distributor reached out too. Colin. I didn't get another name. Just Colin. Called me one day to express his condolences. He had a nice voice, over the phone. Smooth. Kinda timid, but in a way you liked. I dunno how to describe it. You know what else he told me? He told me I was responsible for 89% of the profits for his channel. Eighty nine. Thinkin back now, I shoulda known that was a bunch of bullshit. He said he wanted to meet with me at the company headquarters in Pasadena. Once I was ready of course. Said he wanted to "talk shop." It was a bright spot, you know? A bright spot in a scary and lonely time. I went. Got a hotel and everything.

What was it like? You mean like what happened?...oh,  you mean like, the inside? Like of the building?

You know what? Now that I think about it. Weird. It was weird as hell. Lotsa gold and concrete. Like the jewelery. It was like every room was like, I dunno. It was like they were too big and too small at the same time. And there was a LOT of gold, in all sortsa patterns.

No. Yeah. Yeah I'm okay, I can talk about it. I'm okay to talk about it. I wasn't there long. I've heard the stories, you know. I don't know what you know, you probably know more than me, being the government and all, but lemme say that if you heard a story about something happening in 11414, it's probably true.

Anyways, Colin met me in his office. No windows. We talked shop. They asked me to arrive early and I skipped breakfast to get there on time and, it seems like every time I tried to bring up lunch he would wave it down. I had to damn near demand to get up for lunch. He invited me up to the cafeteria. The nice one, the one the distributors got to eat at.

It was nice, like, real nice. The plates had those same gold patterns on them. It was after that-

The pattern? Uh, I'll try, do you have a pen? It was really complicated. I'll do my best. It had all these criss-crossing... Hm? Yeah. Yeah you know what? That's exactly what it looked like.

Yeah, you know? I actually did ask him. I asked him about the pattern and he just kinda looked at me like I was in on a joke and said put a finger to his lips and he tapped on the back of his head. You know, where they put the plugs. And he said "you know, so they can't listen."

Yeah he offered to let me try one. He got all quiet, brought me to the lounge behind some curtains. Yeah they had the gold thing too. Started talking like he had a secret. He must've had fifty, sixty pills in a fancy little case that had the same pattern on it.

No I wasn't surprised. How else would they make that much money without hypnoregulation? It was kind of an open secret, you know? I didn't want any of that. But you can't say no, you know? Then you're implicated. You can't leave. I agreed to take one.

I still think about that, you know? How I got out of that. What a dodged bullet. Oh my god. It's kinda embarrassing, now that I gotta say so, but when I was little, I used to do magic. You know, card tricks, sleight of hand, all that stuff. I palmed the damn thing. Slipped it right into my pocket.

I sat there for a bit. Tried to copy him, you know. The lounge had a bunch of sub-finantial cortical wires hidden in the coffee table. He gave me one and told me to watch what he did while he fed it up his nose into his head. I sat there for a bit, trying to stay calm. His eyes rolled into the back of his head and he had the gold scalero, uh, scaleri, no, uh the white parts of his eyes...

Scalera! That's it. They were gold and everything.

I didn't know he would convulse so much. I thought something might've been wrong, but eventually they died down. I gotta say, I was so damn scared I couldn't move. I coulda been there for hours. I probably was.

I have a good memory. So eventually I worked up the courage and just...walked out.

Yeah. I walked out. You walk like you're supposed to be there, and you're kinda mad, you know? Like you're late for something and you can't talk right now. It's all about confidence. Nobody hassles you if you look like you know where you're going. I even said thank you to the secretary in the lobby. Nadine taught me that you know. It's all about confidence.

I made it to my car, got the engine going, and the moment 11414 was out of my rear view mirror I just started crying. Cried myself to fits. I didn't even know at the time. What was it? Six weeks later? How many dead?

Yeah, too many. Too many. I guess it doesn't matter.

I drove to a McDonald's for some food and at some point I turned on the radio. You know what was playing?

Yeah. It was that fucking Tremeloes song. You know the one."

[appleblueberry-pie]

Explaining your First Love to the Yandere's

A/N: "The Yandere's", meaning as many yandere's i think I can characterize as yandere's as perfectly as possible without burning myself out. Also, are the pictures too much?????? Also, I couldn't find a good pic for Sugu without picking the one where he's literally going insane LMAOOO. Love how my semi-debut for my yandere characterization for him is shown w a not so pleasant picture of him(they're all perfect). Anyways, this is probably gonna be my most chaotic, yet organized, post about jjk ever. I have a solid plan and will go through with it. It's friday and this is me "letting loose" before the weekend. Also, the first love story will be pulled from my own experience. With multiple twists to it to make it sound as interesting as possible.

SCENARIO:

"Mmmm. I remember my first love." You hum in a pleasant tone as you start to reminisce events of who you first gave your heart to. "I loved him so much, it was insane. Because....we grew up with each other. We used to be like this." You twist your fingers together, smiling at him as you explain. "He was an embodiment of me, as I was of him. I don't remember a time we weren't friends. I think it helps to mention that our mom's were friends and they were neighbors. So....we've always known each other. He's a year older than me."

You two were out in the park on the grass. He suggested a little picnic together, hoping to bring you two closer so he could possibly make more moves to be more than a friend. But you were so oblivious to it, even going as far as talking of your first love as if you still missed this stupid asshole.

"I still miss him." You go silent for a few seconds and stare down at the checkered blanket, smiling. He gapes a little and resists the urge to scoff. "We both loved playing video games, we watched the same tv shows, went to the same elementary school....a lot of things happened between us. He didn't like me back, though. I confessed to him when I was 9 and he said no." You laugh. "But even then, I still loved him. I still feel it, too. For some reason, my love for others doesn't really go away. Just sits at the bottom of my heart to make more room for others."

You sigh and continue talking about the guy. "He just grew more and more....attractive as I grew up. I am pretty sure he's why I have my type that I have in men currently. He's very tall....a deep voice." You sigh, closing your eyes to remember. "Relaxed, closed off.....I heard him on the phone when our moms were talking a month ago. He sounds....so different. I don't even know what I'd do with myself if I saw him again." In real time, he watched you unravel slowly to show how.....inf*tuated you were with this guy. You were so focused on naming his qualities. As if you could picture him perfectly in your mind.

"I'm so glad we don't talk to each other anymore. I ruined our relationship. Said a few inappropriate things I shouldn't have said at the wrong time. I haven't spoken to him in....6 years. And I'd rather it stay that way, honestly. Because he's a rather boring person outside of his physical attributes. But I have attachment issues." You pick up one of the snacks laid out between the two of you. "Yeah. I'm done talking about him. I would rather not think of him anymore."

YANDERE REACTIONS:

Sukuna:

Sukuna was baffled. Anger, frustration, fear, and even jealousy kept his tongue from moving. He thought this moment wouldn't ever happen in his life. He thought this wasn't a possibility. Your extreme disloyalty to him was what made him clench his hands in anger. But if he rationally thought about this, you don't know. You don't know how much he loves you. How much the Ryomen Sukuna loves you. You were supposed to be his in all lifetimes. He felt like he absolutely knew you were pure. You smelled pure and your energy felt pure when he first met you. So why were you fixing your mouth to say such disgusting and unfaithful words to him as if he wasn't right there?

He wanted to ask you if you've been trying to give yourself to him like a whore, but he knew that was just him overreacting. He wouldn't ever say such things to you, anyways. He wanted to change for you and was trying, starting with these stupid little date settings he knew you loved. A fucking park. And here he was being stabbed in the chest multiple times without your knowledge of it. It was all your doing.

He might be human in this lifetime. He might be nothing but a mere human for you to toy with freely, and he would let you do it to him. But he would never allow a puny roach get in the way of getting what he deserves. He deserves you and he will have you, one way or another. And if that means cutting a small piece of your heart out just to keep the rest, then so be it. He can't have any piece of you in him. Just thinking about him makes another vessel pop in his body somewhere. He will kill this thing.

Kento:

Maybe he was overbearing. He really just couldn't help but feel insecure. There should be no real reason for you to bring up a man from the past. Someone that should clearly be out of your mind. Was he boring? What did that fool have that he didn't? And why did you mention it while you two were on this date??(It wasn't a date, but it felt like it to him) Maybe he was too plain. Men like him were just smokers and loners, of course you'd bring up someone else that can satiate your desire for real love. It's all because he couldn't. Not in the way you want to be loved.

But he knew, he knew that he was enough. He knew he was your type as well, so, what did you mean by he was the type you have in men?? What does that mean for him? Will you use him and throw him away? He doesn't want to be used and tossed out like trash. He wanted to be yours forever. He wanted to be your man. Your man. He wanted to be your lover, your obsesser and the one you obsess over, not that imbecile. He wanted to be skin to skin, he wanted to be under your skin, he wanted to make his mark on you and for you to do the same to him. He deserves your love. But here you are expressing it for another man you haven't even spoken to in over 6 years. He deserves that type of commitment, there's nothing he's done to deserve it this late.

"I love you." The words slip out like oil on water. And it makes his heart oh, so much lighter.

Suguru:

"Heavens. I'm glad you aren't talking with him now." Suguru chuckles and shakes his head, peeling off more strawberry leaves for you. "This is why." He points with the strawberry at the people walking past and then gives you the strawberry. "This is why I don't want you talking with them. They do this to hold you in their clutches, I've seen it." Suguru sighs as he recalls your story in his mind. Jesus, was it trying to hypnotize you? If so, it was working. No worries, it won't be around to mess with your mind much longer.

"They actively lie, they laze around, let their emotions control them, and then try to manipulate you to stay with them to be their stepping stool." He brushes your hair back neatly, and you scrunch your eyebrows at his words. "But I know you're better than him. Better than all of them." He calls out your name and stares into your eyes with a look that makes you flustered. What is his problem?

"You are the light. You are one of the most strongest and intelligent sorcerers I have seen of this time. You hold up your potential and continue to blow my mind with how beautiful your soul is. I am constantly drawn to you and your energy, I never get enough of it. I don't ever want to hinder you and I don't want anyone else to hinder your energy. That's why I will kill that filthy animal that tried to touch you." It's scary, the way he maintains eye contact with you and spits the nastiest insult about the man you once loved with your whole heart.

"I can't wait to get to know you better. You've been teaching me so much. Maybe you can tell me about your favorite nature spots and we can relax there whenever you're free. And sometime later, I could also take you to meet my family. You'll love my two daughters." He laughs lightly, knowing Nanako and Mimiko would adore finally having a real mother worth of raising them. Together, you and him would be unstoppable.

Choso:

Choso was finished with peeling the mandarin for you. You kind of were confused about how he went about doing this, though. Because all over his lap were the smallest bits of mandarin peels you've ever seen. But the mandarin looked perfect. He obviously took his time. He handed it to you softly, smiling. You accept it happily and begin peeling.

He was surprised he didn't rip the thing apart then and there. Maybe be should peel things more often. The way you so freely spoke about your love for another man when your soulmate was sitting right next to you, peeling fruit open for you was preposterous. He needed a hug. A lemonade, had to kill someone, something. But he stopped killing people for you(secretly), so he has to resort to acting like he's peeling off that devil's skin. Starting from where the shiny skin first shows. The first piece is always the hardest to pick off and it's hard to choose where to begin. But soon enough, the color underneath began to show. He slowly picked off every. Little. Piece. He heard a yelp of pain and cries of "sorry's" in his head for every piece.

Every single little piece made the air smell more and more sweet and tangy. The more you spoke, the faster he picked. The stronger the smell was. So citrus-y and delicious. It made him smile. He loved peeling this mandarin. Then picking off white strips connected to the mandarin itself, so that it was smoother and you had no access peel. Like veins, they came off one by one. He simply stared at it when he was done. Smooth, perfect. Scattered remains laying everywhere on his lap.

He's never felt this way before. What were you doing to him? What is this twisting feeling in his gut that makes him want to puke? Why can't he breathe? Why does he want to kill the kids and mothers at the playground not too far away? He needs you to calm him down.

He hates this park.

"Here you go, angel." He hands it to you, smiling. You looked a little confused at first, but then took it from him, opening it to take a slice. "Oh, this looks real nice, Cho. ......Why are you smiling like that?" He shrugs, picking up one of the strawberries you brought from your place. "Like what...?"

Toji:

Toji was silent. The awkward silence he was creating between the two of you made you nervous. He was sitting close to you, leaning over to you, his arm supporting his weight behind your back with your shoulder touching his chest. He was just staring down at the bowl of strawberries. ".....Toji?" Your soft voice made him sigh.

No, he couldn't do it. Killing you won't kill the pain and anger in his chest. This was probably the angriest he's ever been. He wanted to shout at you to apologize for how you were making him feel. But what he really wanted was to feel your lips on his and for you to shut the fuck up. For some reason, every time you open your mouth, it always ends with him degrading further and further off the side of sanity and just going completely ballistic.

You saw his hand on his hip. The hip that wasn't actually his hip, but was his gun he was resting his hand on. He would feel so much better if those shrieking rats would shut up. Fucking rodents running around you two freely like he wasn't about to ruin everyone's day.

He wouldn't say he was often traumatized, but he could've went his whole life without hearing that story. Now he has to find a random man and kill him for stealing your heart. I mean, the least the bastard could've done was reciprocate his feelings and not leave you feeling helpless. "I could treat you better than that dick." You flinch at his words before smiling, averting your gaze as well. "Oh....." He leans in closer to your face. "Where does he live, huh? Is it the prick with the glasses?" "No?" "The one you work with?" "I-I told you I haven't-" "Eh, whatever. I'll find him and kill him." He smiles at your bashfulness and grabs a few strawberries from the patch.

Sometimes he forgets you don't care much for how he says things. If the right message gets across, you usually don't mind how he says it. But he just blatantly threatened to kill him. You grab the leafless strawberries from his hands and begin eating. Nah. You were his, for sure. He sighs and lays down on the blanket, staring up at the blue sky.

Satoru:

Satoru nodded along with your words, his hands trembling. When you smiled, he did. When you sighed, he would, too. And when you finished your story, he had to swallow the thick bile in his throat. You were just....recalling old memories, that's all. Nothing else. He tried to focus on the grass blades he felt through the blanket. He tried to focus on the sounds of the kids running around squealing.

He watched you eat some of the cold grapes he brought you. They were big, and you praised him lightly for finding such a great batch. He nods quietly and stares down at his lap. Everything was fine. You were fine, and so was he. "Satoru...?" Honey dripping naturally in your voice makes his head turn automatically. The worry etched on your face made the strings holding his mind together break one by one. "Are you alright..? You're sweating."

Nothing was fine. He can't believe you just said that to him. Why would you..? Why did...? Why?.....wait, why?? Why??? Why why why why why why WHY would you do that? Why would you say that to him? He sacrificed so much for you. He killed all of the assassins that went after you when the higher ups found out about you and him getting closer. He paid off your parent's debt secretly. He paid your rent. He woke up early in the mornings to talk to you because he knows you like to wake up to see the sunset. He memorized all of your schedules when you have special weeks, special breaks, he memorized all days that you memorized, he knows what mattress you like to sleep on, he knows how you like certain foods to be seasoned, he knows your favorite weather and season, he didn't fucking learn all of this about you for nothing!! WHY don't you ever appreciate everything he's ever done for you? Why don't you notice him? Why don't you love him? He stalks you every day to understand the type of man you would want to live under your roof and be under your covers and that wasn't enough.

He's been so alone all of his fucking life. No one understood him like you do. He couldn't help but open his ribcage, breaking them off of his body to one by one to let you touch his hot beating heart with your cold fingers. He wants you inside of his heart forever and never let you go, can't you understand that? He hasn't slept in three days, predetermining what he was going to say to you during this picnic, and you tell him that?? Just fucking kill him. Kill him, kick his face, spit on him, ruin him like you're doing now. He clearly doesn't matter.

"Satoru??"

He's supposed to be the one you compare playing video games with, he is supposed to be the one you watch the same tv shows with, he was supposed to go to the same school as you!! His skin is on fire, he can't breathe, his mind hurts, the grass blades are irritating his skin and the children are making his migraine worse. Are you saying something? He can't hear you. His ears are ringing.

He wants to be him. He wants to rip open the skin and spine of the man who lived in your soul since the dawn of time and crawl into his body to experience what he experienced. He wants to do all of those things with you as kids and live with you, grow with you, let him be your infatuation. He wants to rewind time. He wants to die. He wants both of you to die and be reborn to be given a second chance he can never ever have.

"Satoru!"

Your face is twisted into heavy concern and slight fear. Satoru sat in front of you, staring at you. He hasn't moved in three entire minutes. His face was covered in bucket loads of sweat, his lips twisted into a tight smile that threatened to break into a million pieces. The corners of his lips wobbled as if he was going to cry, but his eyes were wide open and dry. His legs, arms, and back stiff as he sits in such an uncomfortable position, it had to hurt. You were scared for him.

Can he hear you? You slowly raise on of your hands to touch his cheek and he flinches under your touch, finally blinking. "Yes?" You purse your lips and bring out a cold water bottle from your basket. "Here, maybe you should drink some water." He takes the water bottle you dropped into his hand. "Thank you." He whispers and sighs, twisting open the cap. You watch him guzzle the whole thing in 5 seconds. "......maybe we should go indoors." He nods, closing the now empty water bottle. "Yeah. The sun is hurting my eyes."

No part 2's. Because I don't like continuing old plot and I love seeing people go crazy for me not continuing good content.

[sematarygirls]

   EX-CONVICT!BABYDADDY!RAFE x FEM!READER

WARNINGS .ᐟ unprotected p in v, breeding kink if you squint, heavyyyy angst, rafe being an asshole (as per usual), brief mentions of guns/police raid and drugs

NOTES .ᐟ guys, i need him so bad, like actually. based on this concept from my silly little brain. dad!rafe stays in my mind 24/7, but this is me we're talking about, so of course, i had to put a lil spin on it. also this turned out way longer than i meant it to, woah

After almost four years, you were finally starting to feel like you were getting your shit together. You were living in a nice house in a nice neighborhood where everyone knew everyone—the kind of place where people literally asked their neighbors for cups of sugar. You had a stable job that allowed you to live comfortably and provide for yourself and your daughter, and you had a big St. Bernard, lovingly named Moonshine after you'd watched one too many episodes of Moonshiners, that provided a sense of safety and security when the nights were cold and the paranoia started to creep into your mind.

Being a single mom was not easy, and it definitely hadn't been a part of your life plan, but then, you met Rafe Cameron—the ever charming, sweet talking man that he was. He swept you up and made you feel like the only girl in the world, like nothing else mattered as long as you were by his side, so when you found out you were pregnant, you were over the moon at the idea of starting a family with him.

But Rafe Cameron was a liar. He was selfish and manipulative, and he turned your life right on it's head.

You could still remember the day the police kicked in the door of your apartment, bursting in with guns drawn, pointed directly at you. You were eight months pregnant and having a gun pointed at you—at your baby—made you physically ill.

They had raided the apartment and found copious amounts of drugs. Your heart dropped, and you immediately felt like an idiot. How had you not known? You knew he made more money than he realistically should have, but the thought never even crossed your mind that this could be the reason. You were heartbroken and angry. Angry that he had lied. Angry that he put you in this position. And, angry that he was leaving you.

Rafe was arrested, and eventually charged with possession with intent to distribute due to the amount of drugs they found, which resulted in a five year sentence. You were sad and angry, not only because you were losing the man you always thought was the love of your life, but also because now, you were alone, and your daughter wouldn't know her father for the first five years of her life.

This anger and resentment festered, mixing with longing and a deep, aching sadness. You couldn't bring yourself to answer his calls or letters, let alone visit him. You didn't know who he was anymore. The man that you saw sporting handcuffs and an orange jumpsuit at his trial was not the same man you fell in love with, and you wouldn't pretend like he was.

You had known Rafe's release date was approaching, but you were under the impression that you still had a little over a year to plan on what you were going to do when it finally came. That's why you were so unsuspecting when you went to answer the harsh knock at your door.

It was a Thursday night, and you were cuddled up on the couch with Moonshine, who was practically the size of you. A horror movie was playing on the TV before you, one you'd seen practically a million times, and every few minutes, your gaze would flicker to the baby monitor on the coffee table that displayed the feedback from a camera in your daughter, Rhiannon's, room.

You jumped a little at the harsh sound of a knock on your front door, the horror movie already having you on edge. You could be paranoid sometimes, especially being a single mom, so realistically, you knew you shouldn't have been watching it so late at night, but they were your guilty pleasures that you couldn't indulge in the light of day because of your toddler.

Moonshine immediately jumped up, a low growl escaping his throat as his hair stood on end. Your brows furrowed at his odd behavior, pausing the movie and unfurling yourself from your comfortable position. Your steps were soft on the hardwood, your socks cushioning the sound as you padded over to the front door, patting the dog's head comfortingly as you unlocked the door, completely unaware with what would greet you on the other side.

As you opened the door, the cool night air hit you, carrying with it the faint scent of cigarette smoke. You blinked in surprise, expecting to see a neighbor, but instead, you found yourself face to face with Rafe Cameron.

Your eyes widened, the air knocked from your lungs as you took him in. He was changed, broader and more imposing, his muscles flexing under his tight black t-shirt as he crossed his arms. His hair was buzzed, his chiseled jawline sporting stubble that made him look older, more mature.

He looked so different, but still, somehow, the same. You were hit by a wave of emotions—longing, love, sadness, but most presently, anger. Who did he think he was showing up unannounced in the middle of the night after all these years, especially looking so unapologetic and devastatingly handsome.

His piercing blue eyes bore into yours, captivating and dangerous like a wave pulling you under when you least expected it. "Hey, baby," he greeted, his voice low and smooth, like honey dripping off his tongue. The term of endearment fell from his lips without any semblance of warmth as he stared at you with an intensity that made you want to shrink in on yourself.

"What are you doing here?" You asked, your jaw clenching and grip on the door's edge tightening. You shivered a little as the cold air bit at your bare skin, barely registering the low growls of Moonshine behind you due to your tunnel vision on the man standing before you.

He smirked confidently, knowing the effect he had on you—the effect he always had on you. His eyebrow arched as he took in your appearance, his eyes lingering on your bare thighs, courtesy of your pajama shorts. "Aren't you going to invite me in, sweetheart? It's been a long time." He took a step forward, his broad frame filling the doorway intimidatingly.

You swallowed hard, resisting the urge to step back and let him intimidate you into getting what he wanted. You craned your neck to look up at him, his close proximity looming over you, making him seem even taller and more imposing than he already was. "And whose fault is that?" You managed to say, despite the pit in your stomach—a mix of dread, anxiety, and strangely, desire.

Rafe's gaze sharpened, his eyes glinting dangerously. He uncrossed his arms and braced one hand on the doorframe beside your head, leaning in closer. It made your breath catch in your throat, but you held firm. You couldn't let him see that he was getting to you. "Let me in," he clenched his jaw. His anger at you for abandoning him in there had been bubbling up, and your defiance was bringing it to the surface.

A light flickering on in the house across the street caught your eye. Old lady Flanigan had a habit of making everyone else's business, her business, and she was a nasty gossip. Unless you wanted people talking, you either had to let him in or get him to leave, and one of those would be a nearly impossible feat. "Rafe, you can't be here. You can't just barge back into my life after all this time," you told him firmly, your own eyes blazing with a fiery intensity.

"And why not?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous. His body was practically vibrating with pent-up anger, his muscles taut as he leaned in closer, his breath fanning across your face. "Did you ever think about me? Did you ever think about what you did to us?"

"What I did?" You scoffed, anger bubbling up inside you at his accusation, blaming you as if he wasn't the one that went to prison and left you alone. "Are you fucking kidding me?" The old woman across the street was now shamelessly watching through her window, and you knew you had no choice but to let him in before her nosey ass called the cops on the strange, clearly out of place man lurking in the neighborhood.

He followed your eyes, looking over his shoulder to the nosy neighbor, his expression darkening. Without another word, he pushed past you, entering the house and forcing you to step back.

Your jaw clenched at his blatant disregard or respect for your wishes as you gently closed the door behind you. Moonshine barked, baring his teeth at the intruder, clearly sensing the tension and jumping into action to protect his family. "Moonshine, stop," you told him firmly. You were proud of him, but you didn't want his barking to wake Rhiannon. The last thing you could deal with right now was Rafe and a crying toddler. You could only focus on one temper tantrum at a time.

Rafe's eyes narrowed as he watched you control your dog, a muscle ticking in his jaw. His gaze then swept the interior of your home, taking in every detail as if memorizing it. "Nice place," he commented flatly, turning back to face you. "Where's my kid?"

You took a deep breath, your gaze hard at him calling your daughter his kid, like he had any right. He didn't even know her name or that she was a girl. "She's asleep," you told him, crossing your arms over your chest.

His piercing eyes bore into yours, unyielding. "Her name." he demanded gruffly.

"Rhiannon," you informed him hesitantly, your gaze darting to the monitor on the coffee table, making sure she was still asleep.

His expression flickered briefly, a flash of something softer, almost vulnerable, in his eyes before it was quickly concealed. He nodded once. "I want to see her." It wasn't a request. His posture remained tense and coiled, ready to react to your response.

You huffed, running a hand through your hair and heading to the kitchen with him hot on your heels. Maybe you wanted to busy yourself. Maybe you wanted an excuse not to have to look at him. Maybe you just wanted to walk away from him, to assert some kind of power. Either way, your next words were spoken with your back to him. "I told you. She's asleep. It's the middle of the fucking night, Rafe, what did you expect?"

He followed you into the kitchen, his presence overwhelming in the small space. The air felt charged, thick with unspoken words and unresolved tension. "I don't give a fuck what time it is," he growled, his voice low and intense. "I've missed four years of her life already."

You rounded the kitchen island, planting your hands on it as you turned to face him, feeling more comfortable with the counter between you. Not because you were scared of him but because, despite yourself and despite your anger, you longed to touch him and have him touch you. "And whose fucking fault is that, huh?" You asked angrily, echoing your earlier words that he had ignored.

Rafe's expression darkened, his jaw clenching as he stared back at you. The muscle in his jaw clenched as he ground his teeth together, trying to rein in his anger. "Yours," he bit out. "You left me in there," he accused.

"You left me out here!" Your voice raised slightly before you caught yourself, letting out a hard breath. The only way you could keep yourself from getting sad, from crying over the loss of the only man you'd ever truly loved, was getting angry at him.

"You think I wanted to go to prison?" He hissed, rounding the island and backing you against the counter. "You think I had a fucking choice?"

"You did have a choice," you said sharply, bracing your hands on the counter behind you as you stared up at him. "You chose to deal drugs, and you chose to keep dealing even after you found out I was pregnant. Prison was just the consequence of all your shitty choices."

His hand came up, slamming on the cabinet beside your head, the sound making you jump slightly. "And what about you?" He seethed, his chest heaving as his breath came in short, angry bursts. "What about your choices, huh? You could've waited for me."

"I did what I had to do," you said, glaring at him. You weren't quite sure what else to say. You had to protect yourself, your own feelings, and your child. You couldn't have stayed in touch, sick with worry every night while you soothed a colicky baby all by yourself. You had to forget him; it was better that way, easier.

"What you had to do," he repeated, his voice dripping with sarcasm and the faintest hint of hurt. "You moved on pretty quick, didn't you? Found some new dick to warm your bed, is that it?"

"Fuck you," you spat, the words stabbing you like a knife to the heart. You hadn't been able to bring yourself to even look at another man since he went away. You told yourself it was just because of Rhiannon, that you were focusing on raising her and being the best mother you could be, but deep down, you knew it was because your heart would always belong to Rafe.

"Is that it?" he repeated, his face inches from yours. His voice was low, his eyes searching yours for something. "You found some other man to replace me?"

"Maybe I have," you said stubbornly. You knew you were being petty, wanting him to hurt like you hurt, but you also knew you were a shit liar, so there was no way in hell he would actually believe you. "Maybe I have moved on."

His other hand shot out, gripping your chin roughly as he forced you to look at him. "Bullshit," he growled, looking down at you, his blue eyes darkened. "I can see it in your eyes. You haven't moved on to shit."

You stared up at him defiantly, your chest heaving with anger, which only intensified when you felt the wetness between your thighs. Even after all this time, all it took was a look and a simple touch to get you so wet, and as much as you hated it, you couldn't deny that something about his post-prison appearance—how rugged and large he was—made your knees week.

His hand tightened on your chin as he leaned in, pressing his lips to yours in a brutal, demanding kiss. It was clear he was angry, punishing you for the words you'd spoken, and you knew you should've pushed him away—yelled at him and told him to get the fuck out of your house—but you didn't.

Instead, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer as you kissed him with an intensity that matched the war going on within you—the jumbled mess of love and hate that he had brought up within you.

He groaned into the kiss, his hands gripping your face roughly as he devoured your mouth. He pushed you further back against the counter that was now digging into your lower back, his body pinning you in place. You could feel his anger, his frustration, his desperation, and it only fueled your own emotions.

The kiss was raw and charged with a passionate mix of need, longing, and pure, unbridled anger, both of you trying to show the other that this wasn't a surrender of power or giving into the other and accepting blame. The kiss itself was an argument, a fight all of its own that didn't require words.

He hands went to your hips, lifting you onto the counter and stepping between your parted legs. Tearing his mouth from yours, he began kissing along your jawline and down the column of your throat. His lips were hot and insistent, his teeth nipping at your skin as he continued to mark you.

You panted, your chest heaving for an entirely different reason now as you let out soft gasps and breathy sounds of approval, your head falling back against the cabinet behind your head. You had forgotten how good he was with his mouth, always knowing exactly how to drive you wild.

He took advantage of the exposed column of your throat, sucking hard enough to leave a mark. His hands gripped your thighs, pulling you to the edge of the counter. You let out a low moan, your nails raking against his buzzed scalp. As sexy as he looked with a buzzcut, you wished you could run your fingers through his hair, tugging on it slightly everytime he touched you just right.

"Mmm," he hummed against your skin, his voice a low vibration that seemed to go straight to your core. He kissed his way back up to your mouth, his hips pushing forward to press his hardness against your core. "Did you forget how good I am, baby?"

You internally rolled your eyes at his cocky tone, like he had won. "God, do you ever shut up?" You asked, sounding less annoyed and effective since you were still breathless from his kisses.

His hips thrust forward again, making an involuntary whine fall from your lips at the feeling. "Not when I'm right." He smirked, his eyes crinkling at the corners. His smirk was as frustratingly handsome as it had always been, and it made you want to smack him and kiss him all at once. "And I am."

"Don't be a dickhead," you glared at him, his arrogance and your own unyielding need for him only heightening your frustration. You were desperate and aching for him, but you refused to give in and beg him like you wanted to.

"Then quit acting like you're not soaking wet for me." His grip on your thighs tightened, calloused fingers digging into the soft flesh. "I bet if I slipped my hand into your shorts, I'd find you drenched and ready for me, wouldn't I?"

His smug tone infuriated you and turned you on all at once. "Shut up, Rafe," you demanded, balling your fist into the fabric of his shirt and pulling him closer, so you could press your lips to his, forcing him to shut up and quit pissing you off.

Your grip on his shirt loosened, hand sliding down his hard, muscular chest to his waistband. You had always seen the trope of guys working out their frustrations in prison movies, but you didn't know that was actually a thing. Your fingers fumbled with his belt as he slipped his tongue into your mouth, sliding it along yours in a way that had you moaning against his lips

He groaned low in his throat as you finally worked the belt buckle open, sliding the leather through the loops and dropping it to the floor with a clank. His hands immediately slid up your thighs, hooking into the waistband of your shorts and pulling them down your legs—with the help of you awkwardly shifting to lift your ass enough to do so.

He discarded the garments to the floor with his belt, his palms running along your bare thighs as he parted your legs wider, opening you to him. His calloused fingertips brushed against your center, feeling your slick folds, making you gasp into his mouth. "Told you," he grinned against your lips, finding it in himself to be a complete dick, even when he was about to be inside you.

"Asshole," you mumbled, fingers deftly popping open the button of his jeans and unzipping them. You hooked your fingers in his waistband, shoving his pants and underwear down as he had done to you.

He kicked his pants and boxers off the rest of the way, stepping between your thighs again. His hard cock was flushed, the tip glistening with precum. He gripped himself at the base, rubbing the head through your slick folds teasingly. "What was that, baby?"

Your breath caught in your throat. "Just put your dick inside me before I kill you," you threatened him, though you both knew you wouldn't do anything, not really.

He chuckled lowly, the sound sending shivers down your spine. "You want it so bad, don't you?" He teased, his tip nudging against your entrance but not pushing inside. "Beg for it, baby. Let me hear how much you need my cock." He didn't need to be angry when he could punish you like this. He knew begging was the last thing you wanted to do, but he also knew that you'd do it.

"Don't piss me off right now, Rafe," you gritted your teeth, the feeling of him against your entrance making you dizzy with desire.

"Or what, baby? You'll what?" He pressed against you again, the tip of his cock pushing inside just slightly before pulling back out. "Tell me what you'll do if I don't give you what you want." He was pushing your buttons, knowing exactly how to make you snap.

You practically whimpered at the feeling of him pulling out. "Fuck- fine, please, Rafe," you panted, furious with yourself and him that you were giving into him. "Please just fuck me already."

The confident, victorious smirk that instantly appeared on his face had you wanting to slap him. "Now was that so hard?" He condescend. Your annoyed retort died in your throat as he finally pushed into you, making you moan, your head falling back against the cupboard at the feeling of him inside you after so long.

He groaned as your tight heat enveloped him, his fingers digging into your thighs hard enough to bruise as he started to move. His body tensed, using every ounce of his self control not to cum on the spot. Four years of fucking himself in his hand was nothing compared to the way you were squeezing him right now.

One hand moved up to your mouth, muffling your growing moans and whines. "Shh," he cooed. You were thankful for it. You knew you had to be quiet, but the way he was pounding into you made it nearly impossible.

"Did you miss me, baby?" He leaned down, breathing hotly against your neck as he nipped at your throat. "Did you lay awake at night thinking about me stretching you like this?" He flexed his hips, driving deep inside you.

You nodded, letting out a muffled "mhm" against his palm as your back arched into him. He felt so good, better than you'd remembered, and you hadn't had sex in four years, so you were so worked up.

"Good," he purred, his teeth scraping against your skin as he continued to pound into you relentlessly. "Because I missed you too, baby. Missed this tight little cunt wrapped around my dick." The hand on your thigh dipped down between your legs, his calloused thumb rubbing circles on your clit.

You gasped against his palm, your eyes rolling back at the mix of sensations. You were already so pathetically close, feeling that familiar aching deep within you.

He could feel your weepy cunt starting to flutter around him, and he was more than glad that you were so close so quickly because he didn't know how much longer he could hold back. "Gonna cum inside this pretty little pussy, baby. Gonna get you pregnant again, and this time I'm not gonna miss a damn thing"

His words turned you on more than they should have, snapping that coil inside you and sending you over the edge. You tensed around his dick, feeling your orgasm wash over you as you cried out his name.

"Shit, baby," he groaned, burying his face into your neck, his facial hair tickling your skin as he pushed himself deep inside you, painting your insides white with his release. His breath was hot against your already heated skin, a thin layer of sweat coating both your bodies as he slowly softened inside you.

Your chest rose and fell rapidly as you tried to catch your breath, his hand falling from your mouth to brace himself on the counter. You couldn't believe that after all these years of promising yourself you wouldn't let him back into your life, you had so easily opened your legs and even let him cum inside you—because clearly that worked out so well for you last time.

He stayed buried inside you for a moment, enjoying the warmth and the feeling of finally being home where he belonged. He eventually pulled out, his softening dick slipping from your tender cunt.

You had to tell him that he couldn't stay, that it would confuse Rhiannon to wake up to a strange man in the house, but you didn't know how, not after what just happened.

He stepped back, allowing you to get down from the counter. A silence fell over both of you as you got dressed, neither one knowing what happens now. He finished buttoning up his jeans, his eyes flicking up to you as he ran a hand over his buzzed head. "So... what now?" He asked gruffly, breaking the silence.

"You can't- you have to go," you told him, pulling your shorts back up and crossing your arms. It seemed unfair to say such a thing after sharing such an intimate moment, but you needed to think of your daughter. She didn't even know who Rafe was.

"You're kicking me out?" He echoed, as if he couldn't believe it. "After... that?" He gestured vaguely, a muscle in his jaw ticking.

You pinched the bridge of your nose, both of you finding yourselves right back where you started. "You cant just... be here. Rhiannon doesn't even know who you are." The words seemed cruel as soon as they left your lips, but they were true. You wished they weren't, but they were.

"I know. Fuck, I know that. Don't you think I know that?" He was frustrated, your words like a slap to the face. "But goddamn it, I want to know her. I want to be a part of her life."

"I'm not saying you can't be, but... she's four, Rafe. She's old enough that you can't just walk in and call yourself her father," you told him firmly. "It's going to take time. I don't want to overwhelm her."

"Time?" He asked incredulously. Deep down, he knew you were right, that you were doing what was best, but he was so angry at himself, and instead of facing that anger and acknowledging that this was his own doing, he was taking it out on you. "I've already missed four fucking years. First steps, first words, first everythings."

"I can't keep going in circles with you, Rafe," you ran your hand through your hair, utterly exhausted. "You do this my way, or you don't do this at all." It hurt you to be so cold. You wanted Rhiannon to know her father, but she was just a kid. She wouldn't understand why her dad just showed up out of the blue, and you didn't know how to explain it to her.

He stared at you, his face unreadable. For a long moment, neither of you said anything. Then, he spoke, his voice low. "Alright. Fine. Your way. But you better not shut me out again. I'm not gonna miss anymore. Understand?"

You nodded, thankful that he was going to stop fighting you on this. "Do you have a-a number or something?" You asked, unsure how long he'd been out, if he got his phone back and was able to pay the bill or if he bought a burner. You didn't even know where he was staying.

He shoved his hands in his pockets. "It's the same as my old one," he said gruffly, clearly annoyed by your previous ultimatum.

"Right, okay," you nodded, your fingers drumming against your upper arm. You two stood in silence for a long moment. Rafe didn't want to leave, and you didn't want to tell him to.

Rafe's gaze fell to the floor, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed thickly. "Can I see her before I go?" He asked softly. "Just... just to see her."

There was a shift in his demeanor, a vulnerability about him that told you he really did care about Rhiannon, even if he'd never met her. "Yeah," you found yourself nodding, turning to lead him to her room. As you entered the living room, you could've sworn Moonshine was giving a disapproving side eye. "Don't judge me," you mumbled.

He followed you down the hallway, his heavy boots thudding on the floor. He paused in the doorway of Rhiannon's room, looking in on her sleeping form. She was curled up on her side in a princess toddler bed, her little arms wrapped around a stuffed cat. Rafe's expression softened as he took her in.

His eyes swept over the room, the nightlight plugged into the wall illuminating the space. The walls were painted a light shade of pink, toys strewn about. A small bookshelf sat tucked in the corner, various children's books inside, some sitting on the floor in front of it.

He stepped into the room, moving closer to the bed. He crouched down, his eyes fixed on Rhiannon's sleeping face as he reached out, his large hand gentle as he brushed a strand of hair from her forehead. "She's so little," he murmured softly, almost reverently.

You leaned on the doorway, a small, sad smile pulling at your lips as you watched the exchange. You found yourself wondering what life would have been like if Rafe never got locked up, your heart aching as you thought about sharing all of Rhiannon's firsts with someone, bickering over whether she would've said mommy or daddy first. The wobbly first steps, the soothing and band-aid applications after she scraped her knees. What would it have been like to share those moments with him?

Rafe's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed thickly, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "She's beautiful." He turned his head to look at you, and you saw the sheen of moisture in his eyes. He blinked it away quickly, clearing his throat as he stood, masking his emotions as he always had. "I should go."

You hesitated, for a moment wanting to throw everything you'd said out the window and tell him to stay, but you knew you couldn't. You just nodded, letting him push past you. You didn't move from your spot, even after you heard the front door open and shut. You simply closed your eyes, leaning your head against the doorframe as a few tears rolled down your cheeks.