#and i just keep doing that bc it hasn't failed me yet lmao

[eriochromatic]

Agares, duke of hell

based on that demonology post noting the similarities between buggy and agares...he’s gonna crown luffy pirate king frfr

[luveternals]

paring: TF141 x male reader. rating: mature, MDNI. cw: (heavy stuff guys, I think) violence, death, implied suicide, failed suicide attempt, implied temporary death, morally grey reader, insanity, immortality, not a poly (lol too possessive irl for it, sorry). this story is... mostly just angst and mainly not finished (meaning possible serie? Idk). a/n: took me an eternity bc I didn't know who to write for... nice. Anyway, status update for steven grant x reader is scheduled for next week(Nov 30th). y'all went mad for it while I said I wasn't sure about it! lmao (psst, I approve) ~ ~ ~

When all sensations and feelings get ripped away from you, you realize that the wait is worse than pain.

And it grows more and more unbearable the longer years go by.

Wander the city without destination. Expect that cursed urge that comes yanking at your insides and guiding your body like a puppet. Never be sure when it'll come, but know that it will. At the start, it was nothing but a growing emptiness carving itself deep inside you, but now it’s become an insatiable hunger that never seems to leave you alone.

And when that urge eventually comes, it's worse than the wait. 

The knowledge that you are finally about to fill the emptiness as you follow whatever it is that it’s tagging you along. The realization that you are nothing but a selfish bastard who is letting his greed guide his very being. 

All at the simple price of a stole life. 

You stand on the edge of the roof and peer into the streets below.

The longer you wait the more you feel like you’re fading away, and the deeper the hunger grows. And so here you are, jumping over the edge and glading down through the air like a leaf falling off a tree. Your feet brush against the pavement without a sound as you land at the mouth of the alley, the breeze blowing louder than your presence.

Deep into the alley, a man presses his back against the farthest wall, terror blurring his gaze as he grits his teeth. One of his arms hangs limply against his side while the other presses against his stomach over the nasty slash sipping blood into the fabric of his tunic. His eyes jump from the approaching thugs blocking every escape to the sword he’s lost somewhere near the entrance of the alley. It lays at your feet, useless. 

The stench of death grows stronger the larger the stain of dripping blood grows under him. You creep closer, waiting.

“Sorry, pal,” one of the attackers says, a nasty grin tagging at his lips, “it’s you or us, y’know. Gunna be luckier next time, ay?” he raises both his arms over his head and brings his sword down onto his victim wih a final ‘whoosh’.

Blood splatters into the wall and the thieves are onto the body before it can even fall onto the ground, ripping at its belongings like vultures. It takes them less than a minute and soon they dart out of the alley cackling and whooping.

You stand over the body, staring at the despair frozen into its expression for what seems an eternity. Then you crouch down and lower yourself over it. A shriek cuts through the air but you are too far gone to care for it. Your body feels heavier as your soul sinks lower, bones and flesh latch into your very being. You let yourself go, ignoring all sounds that break the still silence surrounding you and all voices that echoe inside your head.

What if this is another failure? What if this is actually not possible?

You try to open your —his— eyes, but the lids are heavy and when you finally do open them, your vision is blurred. There is someone staring down at you, their hand slapping at your face to keep you awake. “—hear me? Help is on the way, but you need to stay awake.” Their voice is muffled, as if trying to talk to you through water, but their concern is palpable even for your half-conscious brain. 

You grin at them.

You did it. 

You’re alive!

-

They've gotten good at it, you'll give them that. It hasn't been a month yet and they've already found you. 

Granted, it's gotten challenging to stay hidden for longer than a few weeks before your needs start to mess with your head. 

You're running, slipping through the crowd with delirious laughter. Adrenaline pumps through your veins, and you watch the helicopter follow your every move. 

You won't be able to hide. You're trapped, and they know. 

You shove a man out of your way, jump over the railing and land on the sidewalk below with a roll. 

They've blocked the traffic and redirected it to keep any car or vehicle from running your way. 

“They're learning,” you grin and glance over your shoulder, making sure they can see your expression. “Let's see how much, though.”

You push forward and rush your way to the other side of the road to the railing of the bridge. It's a fall of over fifty meters. This body will not survive the impact with the water below. 

You're at the railing when something stabs into your side and an electric current sends your senses to overdrive. 

-

You wake up hurting. And it's one of the most intense pain you've experienced so far. But before you can scream at it, numbness spreads through your body, and all your senses grow muddled. 

You can't move. You can't feel. Only see and hear, though even those are muffled. 

It reminds you how it is to not have a body and not be able to do anything about it. 

It's worse than the pain. 

-

The second time you wake, you're sitting in a chair, head hanging and limbs restrained with more chain than it's probably strictly necessary. 

The numbness is gone and you let yourself let out the softest sigh of relief. 

There's a camera blinking at you from a corner of the ceiling and you let a smirk cut through your expression. It's sharper, meaner than you usually would give your hunters. But the memory of numbness they put you through sends phantom tingles to the end of your fingertips, and you can't find it in yourself to be anything but nasty right now. 

There's an ugly, useless table made of metal before you, and you don't even stop yourself from rolling your eyes at it. 

Right. At least they're not some mad scientist cutting you open to study how you work. Not that they'd find anything useful really. 

The door past the table opens and your captures finally make their entrance. 

“Is this how you make friends?” you says, leaning back into a lazy slump, despite the restraints, to stare at them as they move deeper into the room. “You electrocute them and tie them up with a nice, little steel ribbon?”

They're all wearing full masks (skulls, how fitting) and gear, covering most of their features besides the more obvious. Their height and the like. 

It doesn't bother you. You're not here to familiarize with them, but it would have been nice to see the faces of those who've finally managed to catch you and lock you up. 

“Have you no shame?” one of them says, but his tone doesn't betray his true emotions. He sits on the chair opposite yours and folds his hands in front of him, resting his arms onto the table. 

There's four of them, the ramain three spread around the tiny room. Standing by the door or looming over your shoulder like a creep. 

“You steal the faces of others and make whatever you want of their lives.”

“So? They are dead. Like it or not, they won't miss their lives since they'd already found a new one on the other side.”

There's nothing to hide here. They're simply trying to guilt trip you. Everyone knows what you are, and the world has been alerted about your existance. It's just that they've never managed to catch you. 

What you do might be cruel to some. But to you, it's the only option you have to live. 

Your 'victims' — as everyone so loves to call them — are already dead by the time your soul replaces theirs. You have never killed anyone but yourself and consequentially their empty body. But you have never taken the live of another to make it yourself with your own hands.

All you are doing is trying to keep your head above a water that is a life with no ability to feel. Sensations and emotions both. All you are doing is keeping from losing yourself to madness. 

Is it too much to ask? 

“They might be dead. But you're hurting those you love and care for them.” the man says, “dying isn't the problem. You are not the one hurting. Those who you leave behind, they are the ones to really suffer.”

The words are like a sword through the heart, sharp and incessantly slow as it sinks in. You hang your head and grit your teeth. “Shut up.”

Laughter echoes into your ears. 

“Shut up!” the chains rattle and strain when you throw yourself forward. They leave angry bruises on your skin. 

“This is not the end,” he smiles and cups your face, his frail, trembling hands passing through your cheeks as he forgets himself. “this— you'll find a way when you're ready. And I'll see you on the other side.”

~ ~ ~ reblog, comment and/or follow if you like what I write. please and thank you. without feedback I don't have a reason for keeping this blog alive, since I created it so I can practice my writing.

[golbrocklovely]

Twitter is trying to cancel SnC yet again I see.

If I were SnC I would literally just delete all my twitter profiles except for their channels twitter which I'd then use ONLY for promoting when new videos drop. Just so the twitter fans can learn that they aren't as important as they seem to think they are because those boys are nearly at 12 million subscribers on youtube, twitter is but a mere handful of that subscriber count so it really wouldn't matter if they all decided to stop watching.

(plus the video they're all angry at is actually performing very well, it's already at 2M views on just day 2 of releasing. This suggests a lot of the fandom may not share twitters opinions...)

i don't see snc deleting their twitters, but i do see them continuing to not use them and just letting them sit dormant bc that side of the fandom is too dramatic.

i've said my peace on this 100 times over, but i don't mind saying it again bc it keeps happening and no one over there is getting it lol

not that i'm telling them either since most of them i have blocked or they have me blocked lmao

that side of the fandom has cried wolf one too many times and now expects snc to still listen to them. and look, back in 2020/21, maybe that would have happened. bc twitter held a lot more stock back then. but not anymore. they thought they could call out snc for every little thing and expect them to always listen and for all of the fandom to agree. and reality is that just won't fly anymore.

were there genuine reasons to call them out before in the past (and even now)? sure. i'm not here to argue that. but what i am saying is once everyone jumped over the line in the sand and started getting mean and calling them out for nonsense things, idk what you expected to happen.

it's one thing to complain about content and what's going on in it or that it's taking too long to get new content out. it's another thing to bitch about their gfs and say they shouldn't date them, or in general to bring up personal shit.

where our input starts and ends is content related, and that's it. anyone that thinks they have a say in what snc do in their own personal lives are delulu. it doesn't matter if you believe you have their best interest in mind, your input is unwanted. that's just reality.

also i think a lot of ppl on twitter think they speak for everyone in the fandom but they fail to realize that this fandom has 12 mil ppl in it (roughly). even if one of the louder fans on there has a 1000 followers, that's not even 1% of the entire fandom. that's not even .01%. that's how little the amount of ppl you speak for.

my thing is, all of this complaining and drama started in january, around colby's bday, when the pics of them with the girls leaked. and since then, this fandom and that side in particular hasn't shut up since. and look, obviously not everything is about the girls and not everyone is even complaining about the girls. i'm not trying to cast wide nets here and assume. but… be honest: yall have been complaining for WEEKS about a variety of things, ranging from them having gfs that might be clout chasers to snc not talking about a genocide, and somehow…….. i'm supposed to take any of that seriously??? snc are supposed to take that seriously??? those are two VERY different things, no?

but hey, you wanna be upset at snc for whatever reason, be my guest. i'm not here to stop you. do whatever you want. but at what point do you just accept that snc aren't gonna meet your demands and thus your only option is to leave?? just curious. and are you okay with the fact that just bc you leave doesn't mean anyone is gonna miss you, including snc? harsh reality is snc don't know who you are, and that's not bc you don't deserve to be known - they just realistically don't know you, and you leaving isn't gonna do anything.

but if you aren't enjoying your time here, leave. it's better in the long run to pay attention to something that actually brings you happiness rather than stick around and be miserable.

[devintrinidad]

YEAH!! Reducing characters to one aspect of their personality upsets me a lot!! It feels like they become tropes instead of characters and it makes all the dynamics really boring. Just because she has difficulties in her work life doesn't mean she'd struggle in other aspects of life too! I know it's common to have protagonists with "strong will" but it really works for her otherwise she would have given up a long time ago.

Meanwhile U-1146 has always excelled in his worklife (if it's wrong please let me know as I haven't read the manga), But relationships are a whole different territory for him and something he never expected to have. And having ae-3803 guide him through it would be 1) absolutely ADORABLE, 2) Really good for him to feel taken care off and get to actually *relax*, and for her to let herself out in her area of expertise (emotions)

Also another reason I think he is charmed by her determination is since he is talented at his job, he never had to work really hard to get good. Of course he had to work hard and fail plenty of times, but he never had to go the extra mile to simple probe himself (again lmk if I'm wrong!). And so he finds her determination admirable because he is thinking "wow. She goes through a lot yet never falters despite what anyone says. I would have given up a long time ago", at least that's what he believes.

NsshqjdhwAhs I just love the "I love my beautiful wife" guys he is so shy and madly in love it's ADORABLE. The first time she invites him to small spoon, I think he would instantly melt bc he never realized how much he likes *this*. I'd even argue he instantly falls asleep LMAO (and she takes 30 pics of it ofc)

Yeah, I absolutely hate it when characters become a husk of their former selves. I think that it's always best to refer to canon material in terms of characterization, but I always try to put a little spin on it to make sure that it's in my style. :D

But yeah, I think it's implied that 1146 has pretty much excelled in many aspects of his professional life (there hasn't been any evidence stating otherwise, but it's been a while). Romantic relationships across different cells probably isn't forbidden, but I imagine that as a member of the white blood cells, 1146 and his fellow neutrophils don't get exposed to other cell types, be it platonic or romantic. It would be more plausible if he were to fall for someone who is also an immune cell like him, but I would suppose that he would also fall flat on his face no matter the cell type!

I absolutely adore 3803 because she represents who I want to be as a person. Cheerful, dedicated, but always determined to do better and improve herself! At the very end of Main, she is the one taking the reigns against the pathogens and instilling hope in her fellow coworkers and 1146 that all is not lost! (Been a while, but I think that was the gist of it).

Maybe 3803 dated or flirted with a few other cells beforehand, so she's all too aware of first date jitters and the exhilaration of puppy crushes and young love, but with 1146 she's experiencing it all over again, but this time, she's the one who will hold his hand and catch him if he falls. It probably makes her feel wanted in the best way possible and she's eager to make sure that their romantic (or platonic) relationship with each other remains a positive thing that will last until the end of their lives.

"Also another reason I think he is charmed by her determination is since he is talented at his job, he never had to work really hard to get good. Of course he had to work hard and fail plenty of times, but he never had to go the extra mile to simple probe himself (again lmk if I'm wrong!)."--> MY THOUGHTS EXACTLY. He's at first intrigued by her and a little in awe at her innocence at the start of the series (considering that there are trillions of cells, how are they going to meet again??? Yet, they do keep seeing each other and it validates 3803's hope and trust that everything will turn out great, especially when she trains and improves herself, and that makes 1146 see that there's more to life than just living his role as an immune cell!). Gosh, their dynamic just makes me want to squeeze them tight together! :D

HE IS THE ABSOLUTE WIFE GUY And he means it with his entire heart!

3803 is the big spoon and he realizes that he's so much warmer now (it coud be the blush on his face, but he'll never tell) and softer (definitely softer because the barracks can't possibly be too comfortable!) that he does melt into her embrace!

3803 does take photos (and keeps a select few as her lockscreen) and she lets the rest of the WBC squad peek at it. The WBC tease 1146 for it, but they are secretly so happy that their leader has someone who will make him feel so safe and loved that he just immediately melts.

(Let's just hope Dendritic Cell doesn't accidentally take a peek at those pictures because he might try to bribe 3803 for a few of them)

Thank you so much for the great analysis of 1146 and 3803's relationship! A gem to read and a sight to behold!

Thanks again and as always, I hope that you have a wonderful day! :D

[mackenzielovee]

ambivalence epilogue: falling - rafe cameron

a/n: omg wish i could tell you how nervous i am about this shit lmao i really hope you guys like this , pls leave me a comment as always and let me know what you think! sorry its so long oops

Summary: Rafe Cameron gets everything he's ever wanted in twenty short minutes.

Warnings: swearing, underage drinking, mentions of blood, mentions of a car accident, many poorly researched little things that i won't put here bc spoilers

Word Count: 9.3k

series masterlist

my writing

"Rafe?"

You yell out for him the second you enter the foyer of Tannyhill, shopping bags in one hand and keys in the other. He'd given you a key months ago, under the pretense of watering the plants in the kitchen during the days that everyone is at work. Rose had raised an eyebrow at him and Ward had rolled his eyes, but they didn't protest. They love you too much.

"Y/N?"

Rose steps out of the kitchen and into the hall, smiling when she sees you.

"Hey, Rose," you smile, walking toward her.

"Hey, girl. Come on in. He's out back, he said he'll be in soon."

You follow her into the kitchen and set your shopping bags down on the counter, placing your hands on your hips and giving her a look.

"His project, again?" you question.

"Oh, yeah. Ward and I have been officially banned from the entire backyard."

You laugh, "At least you know what he's doing. He won't tell me."

Rose smirks, then raises her hand to her mouth and acts like she's locking it up. You take a deep breath and shake your head, failing miserably at persuading intel from her.

"Sorry, honey. Swore me to secrecy," she smiles sadly.

"It's okay, I get it," you sigh.

She chuckles at your dramatics, then steps to the fridge and pulls out a drink for you and one for herself. After ten months of being with Rafe, you still can't get over how he keeps the fridge stocked with your favorite things, even though you've told him a million times that it's unnecessary.

"So, what's in the bags?" she asks.

"Midsummers prep," you take a deep breath, reaching for one of the bags, "I picked up the necklace Mom ordered for me, and I had to get Scott a tie bar. Oh, and look at what I got for Rafe."

You reach into the bag and pull out a box, handing it to Rose. Her eyes widen when she opens it, glancing up at you with a sappy expression.

"Y/N, these are beautiful. Does he know that you got these made for him?"

You shake your head, "It's a surprise. He hates the cufflinks he has now."

"He's going to love them," she gushes, "You should see the way he's freaking out over his tie. It hasn't arrived yet, and I think he's about to go into cardiac arrest."

"It's over a week away," you laugh.

"Try telling him that."

You grin, reaching down and opening your drink as you both hear the back door open. Rose snaps the box shut and discreetly slides it across the island, watching you place a bag over it without drawing attention.

"Hey, sweetheart," he greets.

You take in his attire; old shirt and athletic shorts, paint splattered about everywhere on him. His forehead holds a bit of sweat, enough that his hair sticks to it. You smile nonetheless, watching him walk across the kitchen and to you.

"Hey," you smile.

He leans down and gives you a kiss, then looks over at the multitude of bags on the counter. His arm snakes its way around your waist, pulling you into him.

"Did you buy out every store? I thought you were just picking up a few things," he questions you, grabbing once and glancing inside of it.

"This is a few things," you shrug, "And, anyway, it's not all for me."

"Oh, right," he snorts, "Scott's tie bar is in here, too. The rest is yours."

"Okay," you raise your eyebrows at him, "Are you going to be sassy, or can I give you your present?"

Rafe's lips curve up into a smile as he looks down at you, licking his lips to try and hide it. Rose snickers across the island, unable to contain her excitement about it.

"You got me something?" he asks.

"Yes, I did," you tell him, then turn in his arms to get the box.

"Did you know about this?" he asks Rose, who immediately shakes her head.

"All Y/N," she says, then, because she can't help it, adds, "You're going to love it."

"I don't doubt that," he replies.

You smile and turn back to him, holding out the box in your hands. He looks down at it and furrows his eyebrows, then moves his glance back up to you as he takes it.

"Not wrapped. Sorry," you mumble, but he shakes his head, as if that couldn't matter less to him.

He removes his other hand from around you and guides it over the top of the box, giving you one final look before he pulls it open. He swallows when he sees them, and when his mouth falls open, you lick your lips nervously.

For months, you'd been trying to think of something to get him for Midsummers. You wanted it to be perfect, but he's such a hard person to get presents for because he always refuses to tell you anything he wants or needs. When he briefly mentioned how ugly he thought his cufflinks are, you'd made up your mind then and there.

You'd customized them for him, getting his initial put into them. The color had been a decision you agonized over, finally settling on silver because you knew it would match your Midsummers coordination, and most, if not everything, he uses them for in the future.

"Baby," his voice is barely audible, still staring down at them.

You wait for a moment for him to say something else, and when he doesn't, you glance at Rose. She smiling, watching Rafe admire them.

"Do you like them? I wasn't sure about gold or silver. White was an option, too, but I didn't really like them, but if you'd rather do the gold-"

"No. I like these," he stops you, finally dragging his eyes up to yours, "I love these. I can't believe you had these made for me, baby, they're perfect."

"I'm glad you like them," you smile triumphantly, blissful feeling settling in your stomach when he returns his hand around your waist.

"Ah!" Rose exclaims, clapping her hands together, "You two are going to look so cute at Midsummers."

"If my tie ever comes in," Rafe grumbles, eyes flickering down to your lips.

Rose clears her throat, "I'm actually going to go check on the shipping status. I'll let you know what I find out."

She chuckles as she picks up her drink and starts out of the kitchen, both of you too wrapped up in the other to fully process what she'd said in time.

"Thanks, Rose," Rafe halfheartedly calls after her, glancing down once again at his gift.

"I think she was just trying to escape us," you tease him, grinning uncontrollably when he pulls you closer.

"Oh, she definitely was," he nods, "I have the tracking information."

You laugh, the moment only becoming more perfect when he presses his lips to yours, setting the cufflink box down on the counter and placing his other hand on your hip.

"Thank you for the present," he whispers against your lips.

"You're welcome."

"I didn't even get you anything, sweetheart," he pouts, "Still have a week, I suppose."

"You could just tell me what your project is, instead," you say, watching him smirk and shake his head.

"All in due time," he replies, devilish grin on his face, "What do you wanna do for dinner?"

You consider his question for a moment, response being interrupted by the back door being pulled open roughly.

"Hey, Rafe, what color did you want the-"

"I'll be out in a minute," Rafe holds up his hand, stopping the man from speaking.

"Shit, sorry. Hi, I'm Alex, nice to meet you," Alex holds up a hand to you, "Hear a lot about you."

"Y/N, nice to meet you, too," you smile.

"I'll be right there," Rafe repeats himself, urging Alex to leave with his eyes.

When the door closes, you look up at Rafe, raising an eyebrow and watching how his face falls at the thought of explaining without spoiling anything.

"So, this isn't an independent project?" you ask.

"No, it is."

"Oh, okay," you nod, running a hand up his chest, "It's just, Alex."

"He's one of the contractors I work with. He's just...helping me out with some things."

"Helping you out with some things," you repeat, "But, these things are secret, no?"

"Let's play twenty questions later," he sighs, pecking your forehead.

He pulls himself off of you and steps toward the back door, ready to help Alex with whatever was so important. You roll your eyes playfully at him, which just makes him shake his head.

"Think about what you want to eat. I'll be in in a bit."

You nod your head in agreement, then turn back to your bags. You smile when you see the cufflink box, still open, on the counter. You'd fretted and worried for nothing. You should've known, anything you get for Rafe, he'd love it. Simply because it was from you.

Rafe's tie arrives two days before Midsummers. You'd thought for sure that you'd have to go out and buy him one, or just have him wear something he already has, which had made him grumpy. Seeing that tie arrive had made you almost as happy as Rafe.

The morning of Midsummers, Rafe has to sneak out quietly to go home and get ready. He'd spent the night at your house, arriving late after claiming he'd been working on his project. You'd told him it was silly to drive over at almost midnight, but he'd rolled his eyes and reminded you that he can't seem to sleep well without you.

Your mother had reminded you five times that you all have to meet the Cameron's at the Club early for pictures. You get ready quickly, navy blue, strapless dress hugging your body perfectly. Scott helps you to the car with your heels, then helps you out of the car once you arrive.

You spot Rafe, leaning up against a pillar outside the Club and watching as Scott help you from the car. He grins when he sees you all dressed up, hair high on your head in a ponytail. His tie, the one that had stressed him out so bad, matches flawlessly. A breath of relief leaves him.

"Sweetheart," he greets you, holding his arm out for you to grab onto, your heels disagreeing with the gravel of the parking lot, "You look so good. So beautiful."

"Thank you," you smile, "You look great, too, Rafe. Your tie is perfect."

You reach up and adjust it against his neck, loosening it just a bit because you can tell he made it too tight worrying about it being perfect. He exhales gratefully, nodding to tell you that's exactly what he needed.

"Guess what?" he says.

"What?"

"Finished my project this afternoon."

"You did?" you grin, "I want to see it! Can you tell me what it is, now?"

"No," he shakes his head, biting back a smile, "You'll see tonight. Take you home after this silly thing and show you."

You nod quickly, "I can't wait."

"Mad I couldn't pick you up," he grunts. His eyes settle on Rose, who's pulling out her camera and urging Scott and Wheezie into a photo together.

"It's ten minutes, baby. Wouldn't have made a difference," you shrug absentmindedly.

"Yes, it would've," he insists, "Ten minutes I could've been kissing you. Now, I'm all wound up and annoyed that your dad is right there."

You smile, feeling your cheeks heat at his words. When you look up at him again, it's different this time. The look he's giving you, the admiration overflowing in his eyes, makes your heart stop in your chest for a moment.

"Do you think they'd notice if we-"

"Y/N has to use the restroom We'll be right back," Rafe calls.

Scott furrows his eyebrows, "Hey, man, I think she knows where it is-"

"She doesn't," Rafe grunts in response, then under his breath, "Idiot."

"Hey," you warn, laughing immediately after.

He turns around, leading you inside before anyone else can protest, "I'm going to kick your brother's ass, I swear."

"Maybe he deserves it," you shrug.

Rafe snickers, walking slowly and carefully so you don't feel rushed. He holds the door open and guides you inside, gesturing toward the hallway with the bathrooms. The Club is buzzing with people, too many people, and he knows he won't be able to kick everyone out of the restrooms.

"Let's go to the locker room," he says, and you just nod in agreement.

Once you enter, you can hear a few men on the other side of the room talking to each other and most likely using the restroom there. Rafe leads you over to a quieter spot, setting you up against the wall.

"Hi," he whispers, eyes zeroing in on your lips.

"Hey," you reply.

He grins, only for a moment, before his lips touch yours. His actions turn hungry, as if he's trying to squeeze as much as possible into the few minutes you two have. You reach up and grab ahold of his cheeks as he kisses you, moaning in your mouth as his hands roam, feeling what he's felt a million time but still being driven crazy by it.

"My beautiful girl," he whispers, initiating another kiss immediately following his remark.

You tangle your fingers in his hair, but stop yourself when you realize you can't mess it up. You move one hand down to the nape of his neck instead, using it to support you while he weakens your knees with his needy kiss.

"Can't believe you're here with me," he mumbles, lazily kissing you once more, "After all these years, baby. Finally get to kiss you at this stupid fucking thing."

"Rafe," you gasp, feeling him kiss the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, then down your neck. His neck kisses have always been your weakness.

"I know," he says, but doesn't slow down at all, "I'm trying. Just hard to control myself with you."

You laugh and nod, giving him a minute to regain himself. He does so, even if he doesn't want to, and eventually leans back.

"Beautiful," he whispers, "Even if you have no lipstick anymore."

You chuckle, and he does the same. You reach up and use your thumb to wipe remnants of lipstick from the corner of his mouth, hoping nobody will notice the lack of it on yours.

"I didn't expect it to last long, anyway," you inform him.

He grins, "Damn right. C'mon."

Your families are entering the Club just as the two of you emerge, and Rose immediately starts making a plan for how she'll get pictures of the two of you. Rafe just nods absently in agreement with whatever she's saying, trying to figure out the best way for the two of you to break free politely and go get a drink.

"Hey," Scott mutters to you, earning your attention.

"What?" you ask.

He smirks, "Didn't you have lipstick on when we arrived?"

You roll your eyes, punching him in the chest. Rafe's eyes widen, trying to figure out what Scott had said to you. Instead, Scott leans in and nods at Rafe.

"That's a good color on you, Cam," he teases.

"Shut up, Scott," you groan.

"Aren't you still single?" Rafe retorts.

"Oh, yeah," Scott nods, and you already know what he's going to say next won't be funny, "But, I've had a crush on this girl for a while. It hasn't been thirteen years, though. Guess I can't do anything about it."

Rafe rolls his eyes, "Can I please kick his ass?"

"Go for it," you shrug.

"Oh, come on, Cameron," Scott chuckles.

Rafe drops your hand and acts as if he's going in for a punch, letting the wrestling begin.

"Boys!" Rose hollers immediately, "We're in public. Please."

"Sorry, Rose," Scott mumbles, shoving Rafe off of him.

Rafe reaches up to adjust his tie, then runs a quick hand through his hair. They both chuckle when their eyes meet again, which makes you smile, too.

Sarah sees one of her friends and breaks off from the group, and soon, Scott does, too. Rafe tugs on your arm, inching you away from the adults. You nod your head at Wheezie, trying to get her to follow.

"I'm waiting on someone," she whispers.

You nod, then blow her a kiss and break away with Rafe. He leads you outside to the bar, quickly placing an order for both of you.

"I do want a picture of us," you tell him, "We'll meet up with Rose later."

"Of course, baby," he agrees.

His thumb runs up and down the top of your hand, and with the way his gaze is focused on the deck and the bar, you wonder if he even knows he's doing that. You smile at the motion, the sweet, tender motion.

"There she is!"

Suddenly, you're lifted off the ground. If it weren't for Topper's distinct cologne, you'd be more concerned for your physical safety.

"Put my girlfriend down, Top," Rafe grumbles.

"It's so easy to make you jealous, Cameron," Topper snickers.

He sets you down with a smirk, watching your boyfriend roll his eyes. Kelce steps forward and wraps his arm around your shoulders, looking down at you playfully.

"It is, in fact," Kelce agrees.

"Back off," Rafe shoves Kelce's shoulder, shaking his head.

"No," Kelce replies, "She's hot. Need her to make me look good."

"Guys, stop," you laugh, shaking your head, "He doesn't deserve the teasing."

Rafe nods appreciatively, instantly feeling better when you reach for his hand and pull yourself into him, off of Kelce's arm. He wraps both arms around you, swallowing up in his scent and his touch.

"Yes, he does, Y/N," Topper mutters.

"You're no fun anymore, girl," Kelce moves on to teasing you, "I'm about to go to college, we could just-"

"Shut up, Kelce," Rafe grumbles, kissing your forehead.

The bartender sets your drinks down in front of Rafe, who taps your shoulder twice to tell you to stand up straight so you can have your drink.

"Nah, actually, your dad was looking for you, Rafe," Topper says, shoving his hands into his pockets, "No bullshit," he adds when Rafe raises an eyebrow.

"Might be a work thing," Rafe mutters, more to himself than you guys.

"Go," you encourage, picking up your drink and removing your hand from his.

"Come with me."

"No, I'm okay. The boys will keep me company," you promise, giving him a smile.

"Oh, yeah, we will," Kelce nods, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively at Rafe when you turn away.

"That's what I'm afraid of, baby," he grunts, then looks to the boys, "Hands off. Both of you."

Topper raises his hand in defense, while Kelce opts to stay completely silent.

"I'll be fine. Go," you say.

"Twenty minutes. Save me a dance," he whispers, then picks up his drink and presses one last kiss to your cheek.

"You know I will."

He struts off to find his dad, hurrying through the crowd to try and make this as fast as possible. Topper and Kelce waste no time honing in on you, ordering drinks themselves and teasing you about how you and Rafe can't seem to be separated for long.

After Rafe has been gone thirty minutes, Kelce watches your eyes frantically search around for him. You hadn't mentioned it at all, but he knew you were starting to get worked up.

"Will you dance with me, Y/N?" Kelce asks. Something in his voice and his expression is different; he's not fucking around right now.

"I'd love to," you smile, choking down your worries and taking Kelce's hand.

He leads you off the deck and down to the gathering of people. From there, you have a better view of the entire deck, and spot Rafe beside Ward, chatting and laughing with some other men. It's business, you know it is. He even has a full glass; his second drink, you're sure.

As if he can feel your gaze, his eyes flash up and meets yours. His face falls, only for a moment, when he sees you preparing to dance with Kelce.

I'm sorry, he mouths.

You shake your head, giving him a timid smile, I love you.

I love you, he mouths back, then presses his glass to his lips to hide his smile.

"You okay?" Kelce asks.

"Yes," you nod, meaning it. He places one hand on your hip, the other holding yours.

Dancing with Kelce is easy, and you do have fun. He makes it fun. He spins you around often, watching you laugh. He tightens his grip around you under the pretense of luring your boyfriend over, even though you want Rafe to do what he needs to.

After a while, you tell him you need another drink. He nods and leads you back up to the deck, back up to Topper.

"Don't you two look like a cute couple," he teases.

You roll your eyes, "Stop."

You wait another hour before you feel those hands snake their way around your waist. You grin, wider than you ever thought possible, and spin around to face him.

"Finally," you whisper, pressing your lips to his before he can even speak.

He pulls away after a moment, "I'm so sorry, baby."

Your face falls at his expression. He's not here to stay. He's not here to dance. You nod, taking a deep breath.

"It's okay," you smile.

"No, it's not," he shakes his head, "I just - I have to-"

"Rafe," you set your hands on his chest, "Baby. It's okay. Do what you need to do."

"God," he groans, throwing his head back, "You are - I'm so in love with you. Thank you, sweetheart."

You lean in and give him another kiss, "Don't thank me. You work your ass off."

"Yeah," he agrees, "Still."

He signals to the bartender to get him another, then moves his gaze back to you. He takes in every little detail, scanning up and down your entire body.

"Later," you whisper, as if you know exactly what he's thinking.

"Later," he agrees, "I gotta get back. I'm sorry."

"Stop," you demand, "Knock 'em dead."

He kisses you one last time, then swipes his drink and rushes off again. You sigh as you watch him go, knowing it's what he needs to do but wishing he was with you instead.

After another hour, Kelce seems to be pretty far gone. Topper, the driver, had only had two drinks. You'd followed his lead and done the same, not wanting to get so drunk that Rafe has to take care of you on top of his work. The last thing you want to do is potentially ruin something for him.

"I think we're gonna head out," Topper tells you, "Gotta get some coffee in Kelce. Do you wanna come? Buy you pancakes."

The offer sounds enticing. When you turn, you spy Rafe once more, having just refilled his glass and is now settling back into his seat. A new drink means this isn't close to being over.

"Sure," you agree, "Chocolate chip."

Topper grins, "All right. I'll collect Kelce and you tell Rafe. Meet me out front in ten?"

"Okay," you agree. You down the rest of your drink, which is now mostly water, and then hurry off in Rafe's direction.

He clocks you when you're about five feet away, clearing his throat and leaning forward to set his glass down.

"Excuse me," he says quietly, standing.

He meets you halfway, warm and greeting smile on his lips. No sign that you'd done wrong by interrupting.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

"Yes. Are you?"

"I'm fine. Just miss you, you know," he grabs your hand.

"Me, too," you nod, "So, listen. Top is taking Kelce to sober up and I think I'm gonna go with them. Is that okay? I'll have him drop me at your house after."

"Is that what you want to do?" he asks.

"Yeah."

"Okay, baby. Of course. Have fun. I should be done here in about an hour," he guesses, glancing back at the men.

Ward waves to you overhead, and you smile back.

"See you soon," you promise with a squeeze of his hand.

"Be careful," he lectures.

"I will."

He releases your hand and starts to step back, eyes not leaving you once, "I love you."

"I love you, too," you smile.

He gives you a smile back, then takes his seat. You hurry outside, finding Topper trying to persuade Kelce to get in the car.

"Thank God," Topper sighs when he sees you, "Help."

You chuckle, "Kelce?"

"Y/N!" he cheers, "Hi, beautiful. Still dating Rafe?"

"Yes," you laugh, "Will you sit in the backseat with me?"

"No," he shakes his head, "Not if you have a boyfriend."

"Kelce," you sigh.

"Fine, if you're gonna beg," he agrees, diving into the backseat without a second thought.

You shake your head at Topper, then scoot Kelce over so you can climb into the car with him. Topper closes the door and then rounds the vehicle to the drivers side, hopping in and starting it up.

"Can't believe your boy ditched you tonight, Y/N," Kelce slurs, "How could any man keep himself away from you?"

"You manage to do it just fine," you tease him.

"Ha ha," Kelce grunts.

"Hey, man. Might wanna cool it with the flirting. Nobody else in this car is drunk," Topper warns him as he exits the Club.

"Y/N used to flirt with me all the time 'fore she started dating that tool."

"That tool?" you question, letting out a laugh.

"He's a fuckin' piece of work. Talking about you and shit. Like, Christ, man, we all have a crush on her. Shut up."

You laugh again, patting Kelce on the chest.

You intend to let the conversation die there, but Kelce does not.

"No, his feeling were always different. Like, I just wanted to fuck you. No offense. But, Rafe, he wanted to know your favorite movie and shit like that. You deserve him, Y/N."

You bite your lip at Kelce's omission, his words swimming around in your head. Although you'd known by now that Rafe's love for you had always, always been more than just sex, it felt weird to hear his best friend say it.

"No, I don't," you say quietly, "I don't deserve him."

"Yes, you do, Y/N," Topper speaks up, stopping at the red light ahead.

"You're good for him," Kelce says.

"Thanks, boys. I sure am crazy about him."

"Ugh," Kelce groans, "Wish you weren't."

You and Topper both laugh at that, and you register when the light goes green. There's hardly anyone on the road, and yet, nobody sees the headlights coming at the Jeep until it's too late for Topper to swerve.

Rafe Cameron had denied doing track when asked to be on the team in high school. He'd claimed it was a waste, because when would he ever need to sprint? Or, run in general?

If his head had been clear, he's sure he would've thought of this as he sprints from the parking lot to the doors of the Emergency Room, panting wildly as he tugs at his tie. Once he enters, he doesn't stop. Doesn't even slow down. He almost knocks into several people, but doesn't have time to apologize.

He swears as he nears the doors, he can feel her. He knows where she is simply by the built in radar engraved in his brain. Flustered, he freezes when he reaches a lengthy hallway, feeling her presence but not knowing which exact room. He swallows, his throat completely dry, and runs a hand through his hair as he steps to the nurse's station.

She asks for the name of the patient. His voice doesn't sound like his own when he says her name, unable to believe he's standing here, in a tux, with a tie that matches a dress he'd let his girlfriend leave in.

How could he have let her leave without him? He should've told his dad he's taking the night off. He never should've left her alone.

The nurse gives Rafe a room number, and he takes off once again. When he rounds another corner, his steps falter when he looks up and finds Topper standing in the hall. His jacket is off and there's blood on his white dress shirt.

Blood.

"Rafe, man, I'm so sorry. The car came out of nowhere, the light was green-"

Rafe just shakes his head, all of his hope drowning in a sea of worry now that he's seen blood. He grabs onto Topper's shoulders, his stare intense.

"Are you okay, Top?" he asks weakly.

Topper nods, "I'm fine. I'm sorry, Rafe. I'm so fucking sorry."

"Okay," Rafe nods, choking down a sob, "All right. Relax. Where is she?"

"She's okay, she's down the hall, the last door on the right-"

Rafe doesn't let him finish, he just pats him on the shoulder and takes off again. His eyes need to be on you right this moment or he might go into cardiac arrest.

Topper stays behind, watching Rafe start up running again. His eyes settle on the doorway of the room Topper had instructed, and he doesn't look away from it for fear it might disappear somehow. He doesn't even notice the tears he'd shed until one gathers on his jaw, and he aggressively wipes it before he enters the room.

You feel him when he enters. Your back is to the door, and yet, the hair on your neck stands up. You turn just as he rushes over to the side of the bed your legs dangle from, taking your face in his hands immediately.

"Rafe, I'm-"

"Don't," he says, tears streaming from his eyes. If he notices, he doesn't wipe them, "I just need a minute to look at you, please. Don't say anything."

You nod against his hands, your own tears welling at the sight of him. His tie is almost completely undone, the knot hanging low around his neck. His hair is far from perfect, far from how you left it.

"My baby," he whispers, "My girl. God, you scared the shit out of me. You're beautiful. Tell me you're okay."

You swallow, letting a tear slip from your eye. He wipes it before it can get past your nose.

"I'm okay," you tell him, "It was an accident. I'm fine, not hurt."

He looks around your body for injuries despite your words. He checks your arms, your torso, your legs, then finally nods in satisfaction.

"Why are you in here?" he questions.

"I hit my head. They did some test on me, y'know, the one with that big machine?"

Rafe nods, although he's not sure which test you're talking about.

"Anyway, the doctor wants me to wait here for the results."

Rafe nods again. His tears are stopping, but his breathing has grown more uneven. He's starting to leave shock and enter into panic.

"Rafe," you say, pressing your hand over his heart. It's beating insanely fast, "Baby, c'mere. I'm okay. Come here."

You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him into you, caressing through the hair on the back of his head and squeezing him tight. He lets out a sob, pulling you impossibly closer.

"I'm okay," you tell him again.

"Baby," he says, repeating the word when he realizes he gets to. That he doesn't have to stop.

"Mhm. Right here. Not going anywhere."

"Promise me," he whispers, tears wetting your shoulder.

He nuzzles his face into your neck, inhaling your scent and pressing kisses anywhere he can.

"I promise you, Rafe," you say.

He relaxes after a few minutes, after your touch and smell overwhelm him and he feels intoxicated off of you. He pulls back and looks at your face, using his hands to angle your head just where he wants it. He kisses you so passionately that you swear you'd jump on him, had you been anywhere but here.

"Baby girl," he says when he pulls away, "You sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine," you nod.

"Can I get you anything? Hungry? Thirsty?"

"No," you shake your head, "Can you check on Kelce? He was bleeding."

"I will," he promises, but makes no attempt to leave. He just wraps himself around you once more.

You two stay like that for a while, neither of you wanting to move. You scratch his back while he holds you, doing your best to relax him. You know he'd been losing his mind.

The doctor enters the room after a bit, and you two reluctantly break apart. You smile at him, waiting for him to tell you about your head. He glances hesitantly at Rafe, who looks to you.

"I'll step out," he decides, "Check on Kelce."

You nod, "Thank you."

He kisses you again, not caring that he's putting on a show for the doctor. You give Rafe an encouraging nod when he pulls away, which is the only thing that makes his legs work toward the exit. Once your boyfriend is out of the room, the doctor clears his throat.

"You have a minor concussion," he announces to you, "Nothing to worry about, though. You need to take it easy for the next two weeks. Stay away from physical contact sports, keep your stress level low, things like that."

You nod, "Okay. I can do that."

He gives you a sympathetic smile, one that makes you raise an eyebrow.

"Y/N, I do have to ask you a question."

"Sure," you reply.

"Are you aware that you're pregnant?"

You swear you feel your heart stop in your chest. You stare at him, wiping your now sweating hands on your dress, and waiting on him to burst out laughing. He'd yell 'Gotcha!', and you'd laugh, even though it's not funny.

That moment doesn't come.

"Come on, big man. You're all right. Y'know where we are?"

Rafe helps Kelce out of his truck and onto Kelce's driveway. Kelce, who sobered up at the hospital but still seems a little out of it from the accident, clings to Rafe as if he couldn't stand without him.

"Live here," Kelce murmurs, "Oh, my God!"

"What?" Rafe asks.

"Where's Y/N? Is she okay?"

You smile and hop out of the passenger seat, against Rafe's orders to stay in the car. He sighs when he sees you round the truck, but he knows it's useless to say anything.

"M'fine, Kelce," you say.

He smiles and nods, holding a hand out aimlessly in the air for you.

"Good. Scared me. I gotta lay down," he sighs.

Kelce's parents come shooting out of the front door then, and you squeeze his hand before you let go and get back in the truck. Once you're sitting, you subconsciously place a hand on your stomach. Unable to believe there's something in there - someone in there. Someone who's a perfect mix of you and Rafe.

Anxiety swirls around your stomach, and you can't help but wonder if that's bad for the baby. The baby. It's not a word you'll ever be able to get used to.

Rafe climbs back into the truck once Kelce is with his parents, promising to come check on him tomorrow. When he looks over at you, he furrows his brows.

"Does your stomach hurt?" he asks, "Did you tell the doctor?"

"No," you shake your head, quickly removing your hand, "I'm fine. Really. Let's go home."

He gives you another hesitant glance, but eventually nods. He doesn't put a hand on you while he drives, and while this usually means he's mad or frustrated at you, you know it means something different tonight. He's anxious about driving with you in the car.

Rafe helps you out of the truck and onto his driveway. You two had stopped by your house to convince your parents that you're fine, and you'd insisted you just wanted to be with Rafe. They ultimately agreed and Rafe packed you a bag.

Nothing feels like it used to before. Not now. Not to you. When your mom first laid eyes on you, you swore to yourself she could see it. When your dad looked between you and Rafe, your cheeks burned. He knew, he had to.

They didn't. Nobody did, except you and the doctor.

You couldn't even bring yourself to tell Rafe.

"Are you sure you're okay? I should've asked the doctor if-"

"Rafe," you groan, "Please. Stop. I'm fine."

He nods, inhaling sharply at your demand. He wraps his arm around your waist and lets you lean your weight on him, guiding you toward the house.

Your thoughts torture you. Pregnant? Now? How is that even possible?

Well, you knew how it was possible. You just really aren't sure how you're supposed to feel about it. You need something to take these thoughts away. To distract you from the way your life seems to be spiraling out of control.

"Baby," you stop him dead in his tracks, "Let me see your project. It's done."

"No," he shakes his head, "Tomorrow. You need to rest."

"Rafe," you fight, "Please. I want to see it."

He licks his lips impatiently, shaking his head at you. You need to rest, be in his bed and have him get anything you could possibly want. You need to keep your stress levels low, even if that means making his high.

"Sweetheart, I really think-"

"Please."

He sighs, "Okay. This isn't how I planned it, though."

You fight rolling your eyes, having heard that statement from him a million times. One day, Rafe Cameron will learn that life does not go according to plan.

He leads you through the house and out the back door, supporting you as you walk across the backyard. He guides you to the guest house, pulling a loose key out of his pocket and shoving it into the door.

"The guest house is-"

"Hold on, baby," he ushers.

He guides you into the dark guest house, hand flexing on your waist from anxiety as he flips the lights on.

He'd completely remodeled the whole thing. It looks like an apartment now, complete with fresh paint and beautiful light fixtures. You gasp as you walk in, tugging out of Rafe's grasp so you can observe everything he'd done.

Down the hall from the door opens into the living room he'd created, complete with a big TV and a stunning couch. There is a framed picture of the two of you sitting on one of the side tables, which makes your heart tumble into your stomach.

"What is this, Rafe?" you breathe, looking back at him with wild eyes.

He sighs, running a hand through his hair, "I - shit. I restored it. I made it into a livable place. It took a lot of work, I mean, there wasn't even proper electricity-"

"Why?"

His eyes shut briefly, "For us. I thought, maybe, we could live here. At least while you get familiar with your job and we can save and look for a real place, you know? It sucks that it's close to my parents, yeah, but it's totally ours and they're fine with it, plus it's free. And, if you don't want to live here, that's fine, too- are you okay?"

Your hand is covering your mouth when he looks up. You can feel tears welling in your eyes at the thought of living here with him. Your breath starts to quicken; the overwhelming sense of everything changing so immediately making you feel like everything's closing in. You step back and reach for the couch, eyeing Rafe as he rushes over and helps you sit down.

"Baby, I told you this was too much, I'm sorry-"

"No, it's okay," you say, voice weak and breathless, "I just - are you sure? I mean, Rafe, there's things that could change your mind, and I-"

"No, baby, nothing you could say will change my mind," he assures you, running his hands up and down your thighs as he kneels before you, silently assessing your features to make sure you're okay.

"Rafe," you sigh, emotions tumbling around in your chest, "If this is some fantasy fulfillment thing, I just need you to tell me-"

"Fantasy? Where is this coming from?"

His words are weak, and although he's trying to remain calm, you can hear his worry rising.

"I'm just worried," you finally sigh, "This is a big change, and - what if I don't live up to what you have in your head?"

He scoffs at the accusation, "Sweetheart. Come here."

You swallow yours emotions and scoot over when he moves up onto the couch, pulling you into his lap.

Him cradling your head in his hands to make sure to be careful with you does not go unnoticed. Instead, it makes a tear fall.

"I know this is a big thing. I shouldn't have shown it to you tonight. I'm sorry. You've been through enough without having this put on your shoulders as well. So, I'm gonna let what you just said slide. Because, I know that without a concussion, you wouldn't have said such a thing."

He watches as you frown, clenching your jaw and doing your best not to cry.

He presses on, "There is no alternate version of you that exists in my head. It's only ever been you. There's no real version of me that exists without you. I realized that tonight, when I had no fucking idea if you were okay or not -" he pauses, swallows, "Alive or not. I'm not me without you. I'm sorry to put that on you, and it terrifies me that I could lose you somehow, someday. I can't control the world, I can't put you in bubble wrap or keep you safe all the time. I can try, though. I want to give this a shot. A real shot, baby. Me and you."

You sniffle loudly, earning a look from him. He presses a kiss to the top of your head and rubs your back, doing his best to swallow his own emotions.

"I'm sorry I worried you," you whisper, reaching up to stroke the skin on his cheek, "But, I'm with you. You know that. Even if it scares the hell out of me, I know you'll be right there. I love you, Rafe. More than I've ever loved anyone before."

"I love you, too," he smiles, pressing a kiss against the tears running down your cheeks. He kisses each one away, kissing away your fears and doubts with it. He feels you relax in his arms, which makes him relax, too.

"Will you show me around?"

He hesitates, knowing you need to rest, "Are you sure?"

You nod and stand, not giving him any time to try and talk you out of it. He shows you the kitchen first; white cabinets and beautiful countertops stunning you. He even completes the room with your favorite candle resting in the center of the counter, and although you don't tell him, you notice it.

He shows you the bedroom next, then the bathroom. Although he'd told you that you didn't have to live here, you notice the second dresser he has in the bedroom, as well as the makeshift vanity he'd created for you in the bathroom.

Lastly, he shows you what he calls his office. It's a little small, but it has a big window so he says it will get a lot of natural light. You swallow as you look around the room, picturing something completely different in it, instead.

"I can't believe you did all this," you practically whisper.

He leads you back into the living room, pulling you down on his lap once again as he sits on the couch.

"It's small," he admits, "But, it's enough for the two of us."

You cringe, and he notices. He presses his lips to your shoulder, then turns you around in his lap so he can see your face.

You try to hide, which he also notices. He brushes hair back from your face, trying to get you to look at him.

"I should've never let you leave with them," he tells you, voice full of an emotion you've never heard from him before, "I should've come with you. It was a huge mistake-"

"If I hadn't been in the backseat, it would've been worse," you say suddenly, voicing the information like a robot, "Apparently, if there had been someone in the passenger seat, they could've been killed. One of the cops told Topper that. I'm glad you weren't there, Rafe."

He swallows, "You should have been with me. I should've taken you home."

"Stop," you sigh, "You can play the blame game all night. It doesn't change anything. We have way bigger problems now."

Rafe furrows his eyebrows, trying his best to get you to meet his eyes.

"What do you mean?"

"Um," you hesitate. The voice in your head is screaming at you to tell him. You're sure he'll be happy. You're sure he will be graceful and understanding and the man you know he is, "I don't know."

You chicken out, because the thought of looking him in the eye and saying that scares the shit out of you. You're not as strong as him. As capable. As grounded.

"You're scared," he observes, just assumes incorrectly about why, "It's okay. We can take it as slow as you want. You don't have to stay every night-"

"It's not that, baby," you say softly, leaning over and pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. He accepts it, grateful for it, "It's just... complicated."

"It's not to me. I love you. And this is what I've wanted for so long, and it's not fair of me to always say that I've loved you forever, because I know it's only been ten months for you. I could see how it may feel fast for you. But, nothing has to change. We'll still be us. It's just, the thought of coming home to you, spending every night with you, it excites me. We have this whole life ahead of us-"

"I'm pregnant, Rafe."

The words hang in the air for far too long without being followed by anything. Both of you just silently trying to figure out what this means for both of you. What a child, relying on the two of you to take care of it, means for you.

He clears his throat once, then twice. His voice is hoarse when he speaks, "Could you repeat that, please?"

"I'm pregnant," you choke on the words as they come out.

He swallows visibly, gaze never leaving yours, "You're pregnant."

You nod, your eyes filling up yet again. For a split second, you wish you could take the words back. Stuff them back inside and not tell him, just keep it to yourself.

He's frozen, just staring at you with his lips parted. As if he's trying to figure out what to say. Instead, you feel yourself calm down when he moves his hand from your waist to your stomach, splaying his fingers along your shirt.

"You mean," he swallows, voice hoarse when it comes out, "My baby's in here? Our baby? You and me, we made a baby?"

You nod, "Yeah. We made a baby."

"Holy shit," he whispers, "No fucking way."

All at once, he picks you up and then turns, placing you back on the couch. He remains standing, staring down at you.

"Can you excuse me for one second?" he asks, breathless.

"Um, yeah," you say. You're confused and he knows it, so he just holds his finger up to you to tell you to wait.

He rushes off in the direction of the bedroom - your bedroom, now - and closes the door behind him out of precaution. You exhale and try to calm your nerves, having absolutely no fucking clue what Rafe is thinking.

You consider him climbing out the window and running away. The image only makes you laugh.

When the door opens again, you note immediately how he's brushed through his hair and put on a clean shirt. His hand shake slightly as he brings them up to rub his face. You take a deep breath, watching him cross the room and stand in front of you once more.

"Um, so, just as a disclaimer, this wasn't planned. I mean, it was, just not like this. I think our thing is just fucking up everything I plan. I don't mind that."

You nod, a small smile tugging at your lips, "I don't either."

"Okay," he agrees with a small nod. Clearly anxious.

You sit up and reach for his hand, which he gladly accepts, "What is it, Rafe?"

He sucks in a breath, then tugs his hand away from yours. His other hand tucks itself into his pocket, wrapping around something. He kneels then, and every thought leaves your mind.

"So," he starts, voice shaky. He pulls out the box and you swear you don't breathe, "I bought this last October. I wasn't trying to rush it, I just knew. I mean, I've known. Fuck, I've known since I first laid eyes on you at six years old. To be honest, I don't know if this is what you want. I have no idea what you're thinking right now. But, I'm all in. I'm in love with you. And, now, we're having a baby. Please, Y/N. Marry me. Marry me, sweetheart."

"Last October?" you gasp, knowing that's not the response he wants. Quickly, you shake your head and try again, "I'm so scared, Rafe. I have no idea how this is going to work."

He opens his mouth to speak, but you stop him, licking your lips impatiently.

"But," you continue, "If anyone can make it work, it's us. I love you. Yes."

His jaw fall open partially and he blinks twice before he speaks, "Yes? Like, yes?"

"Like, yes," you confirm, grinning.

"Holy shit," he laughs, then pulls you off the couch and into his arms, "Holy fuck. I love you."

"I love you, too," you say, tears spilling for the millionth time tonight.

You'd dreamed of your engagement many times. Pictures scenarios, ways Rafe might surprise you. And, while he'd certainly done that, your visions had never been like this.

However, this feels more perfect than anything you could've ever dreamed up.

"Baby, holy shit," he laughs in relief, the sweet sound filling your ears, "Wait. Let me put this on you."

You hadn't even seen the ring yet. You don't care; you'd marry him without one. He pulls open the box and bites his lip, suddenly wondering if it will be good enough. You, however, feel your heart stop in your chest when you see it.

The band is twisted, wrapping up to the 18 karat diamond in the middle. It truly is the most beautiful thing you've ever seen.

"Rafe," you gape, "Oh, my God."

He laughs, wiping away a stray tear from your cheek, "It looks like something you deserve to have on your finger."

You cry even harder at that, "I love it. It's so beautiful. Oh, my God. I love you."

He kisses you like he's never kissed you before, your future solidified between you two for the first time. He breaks away, silently telling himself to hold on, and slides the ring onto your finger.

"I'm never taking this off," you whisper to him.

"That's fine with me," he smiles, then presses his lips to yours once more.

You kiss him for what feels like forever on the floor of your new living room. You never dreamed when you got ready for Midsummers, that this would be how it ends. You're instantly grateful that life doesn't go according to plan.

"I love you so much," he says when he pulls away.

"I love you, too, Rafe," you say, sniffling.

The grin on his face is incomparable to anything you've ever seen in your life. He pulls you into his chest, hugging you tightly. You press kisses into his cheek and neck, unable to wrap your head around the fact that everything between the two of you changed in a matter of twenty minutes. And yet, you're still the same two people that had walked through that door.

"I hate to say this," he sighs, because he's really enjoying you kissing him the way you are, "But, you really need to rest. Would you be more comfortable in my room, or-"

"No," you shake your head, "I want to stay in our room."

He smiles widely at the words, then nods. Before you know it, he picks you up in his arms, laughing when you wrap your legs around his waist.

"We really suck at keeping your stress levels down, huh?" he jokes.

You laugh, "Yes. Does that mean we can't have sex?"

"The doctor told you to avoid extreme sports, baby."

You roll your eyes, but can't help the laugh that escapes your lips. Rafe grins cheekily, laying you down on the bed once he reaches it.

He climbs on top of you, pressing gentle kisses to your lips. You return them, smiling against him.

"You made me a home," you whisper to him, "You bought me a ring."

"I did," he confirms.

"You're going to be a dad."

His eyes close, and you watch his throat work, "Say that again."

"You're going to be a dad, Rafe," you whisper sweetly.

His lips pull up into a smile. When he finally opens his blue eyes again, they're filled with love. Admiration. Hope.

"Can't believe it," he tells you, "Not just the baby. You. I got the girl. I'm marrying the girl. Holy fuck."

"You're cute," you smile.

He nuzzles his face into your neck, kissing you once, twice, three times.

"We need to sleep before I get carried away," he mumbles against your skin.

"I'm fine with you getting carried away," you inform him.

"Kelce is going to shit a brick when he finds out," Rafe laughs, "Top, too."

"Yeah, I feel bad, breaking Kelce's heart like that," you tease him, and he grazes his teeth along your skin in response.

"I don't," he grunts.

"Oh, come on. Just playing," you giggle.

He laughs, climbing off of you to peel off his shirt and turn the light out. He steps back over, pulling the comforter back and watching you squirm underneath it.

"Rest, baby. Celebrate tomorrow," he promises.

His body instantly molds to yours in the bed, wrapping around you just the way he likes. You hum contently as you feel his skin. Not realizing how tired you are, you feel the sleep start to pull at you. Faintly, you register his hand make its way down to your stomach, pressing his palm into your skin as if to protect the baby inside.

"I love you," he whispers into the darkness.

"I love you, Rafe," you reply. It sounds more like a promise than a declaration.

You love him now. You love him in a year. You love him forever. That's what you promise him with those words. With your entire heart, you know he feels exactly the same way. Which is the only thing that dissolves every fear you have. No matter what plans life wrecks, how much shit it puts you through, you have this man to help pull you through it. That puts a smile on your face just as you drift off.

Tags: @hollandsour @flowerkidlxrry @kookkyra @pogueslandia @sarahwasfound @fuzzyhumanpersontrash @rafecameronn @rafeswh0ree @outerbankies @morganwilliams @lilgoddesshines @proactivetypeofperson @abrunettefangirlnerd @the-chaotic-cow @absolute-fcking-chaos @dontstopxx @kaatelyyynn @hayley1623 @riseabovetheexpectations @divanca2006 @jordynsharum @dudinhahoff @anonymousobxfan @blue-4-55-readinglist @premixed-margarita @444f4iry @alularae3 @toolateformcrtooearlytoleaveemo @hopebaker @welcometomyworldwithoutrules @sk8rcal @ims0golden @princesspogue @gasolinesavages @outlaw-abby @samcaniglia @marveloussensations

[namtanlovesfilm]

I don't know about you, but I still live in the illusion that Not Me hasn't ended yet. Like I keep rewatching it, read fanfictions and interacting with the fandom. I honestly haven't been able to watch another tv show let alone another bl since episode 14, and I tried really hard. I downloaded Instagram just to follow Off, Gun and the rest of the cast. I bought fabric paint just to try to remake Black's iconic jacket, and fail. I made PowerPoint presentations to explain to my friend, who doesn't watch Bls, why Not Me is so great. And I presented it to him while "dressing up" as Black. And let me tell you something sleeveless shirt don't suit me at all, but I painted on my arm Blacks tattoo and needed to show it off. Actually I lied the only show I was able to watch is Theory of love, but thats only because regardless of what's going on in my life, I have to rewatch it at least once a month.

I know we were all joking about the Not me brain rot, but I don't think is a joke anymore. Send help

OMG!!! firstly, I'm sorry but you making a powerpoint presentation to convince your friends of not me's greatness while dressed up as black is literally the most iconic thing ever, WHAT??? I love u for that anon!!! secondly, oof. I feel you so much, like I get so sad every day bc not me was the most vivid fandom experience I'd had in a while, and now it's over :( I watch a LOT of shows every year, and there's many that I love, but none of them have captured my heart quite like not me. like for fourteen weeks, the ONLY thing constantly on my mind was not me, and it's hard to turn that off. in fact... I don't want to turn that off. I still think about not me all the time, and I think I'll do a rewatch next week after my theory of love rewatch that I'm starting this week :) and also since I write not me fanfics, that world is never truly leaving me & it stays in my mind every day. but I don't think it's a bad thing tbh, it's amazing to be so invested in a show, and I hope this fandom doesn't die just yet bc I'm personally just getting started. and as for being unable to watch other shows, especially bl... I feel you. I'm watching a few but they're pretty mediocre so it doesn't feel the same. and even my ride, which I loved, I only watched bc I knew it would have NOTHING in common with not me (and it still managed to use one of its songs & have yok's mom in one of the scenes LMAO.) that's why I'm not watching kinnporsche rn tbh, I genuinely can't bring myself to bc it's also a dark & mature bl show and I wanna stay in my not me bubble. so yeah... I couldn't agree more with you, and I actually think it's refreshing that this show is having such a lasting impact on many of us? in a world where shows are being consumed at an increasingly consumeristic pace, I love that this little vigilante show just... hits different <3

xxx

[meetmeatthecoda]

Lately, I've found myself drawn to stories ( and I mean drawn to as in envisioning those stories in my head, thinking them through to the very last detail, not reading, let alone writing them down, because I've long since accepted that they will never turn out quite the same on the paper ) where Red is the one who'd been seriously hurt and, therefore, rendered unconscious for an indefinite amount of time and worried Liz is the one who doesn't leave his side, hoping and praying and pleading that he would wake up. Probably, something that has to do with how unfair it is that we've seen Red keep vigil by hurt!Lizzy's side – playing music for her, holding her hand, reading to her etc. – a number of times and yet, over the course of 8 seasons, never have ever been allowed the pleasure of seeing Liz do the same for him ( not even when he was shot – because she left to retrieve the Fulcrum and couldn't come back until the fight was over – or when he was poisoned – because she'd been waiting to be cleared to see him and he ran away the moment he wasn't actively dying, because that's Red for you all ), even though she loves and cares about him as much as he loves and cares about her.

I mean, just imagine the possibilities!

Liz pacing around the waiting area of Red's mobile hospital while he's in surgery, unable to think about anything else other than how he looked – battered and broken and barely alive – when they've found him and how his head rested in her lap ( she could almost convince herself that he was merely dozing, if he wasn't so deathly pale and still and there wasn't so much blood on his clothes and her clothes and her hands and the backseat of the car ) and his hand was limp in her death grip as they rushed him to his doctors and she whispered words of reassurance and encouragement to him even though she knew he couldn't hear her and how she had to fight the instinct to curl around her lover and snarl at anyone who would come close because she can't let him be hurt further as the medics took him away from her, exchanging observations and orders that didn't sound particularly reassuring. She's also acutely aware of the fact that Red is fighting for his life – there, just a few feet away from her – and, though he's the strongest man she's ever known, he may not win, and so she makes a promise to the empty air in front of her that she will kill him herself if he dares to give up on her and Agnes like that now, when they've just reached the good, right place in their relationship, just confesses their feelings to each other. At some point, Dembe most certainly pulls Liz in for a hug, letting her cry in his shoulder, doing his best to comfort her ( even though there's nothing that can bring her more comfort than Red's hug, when he – alive and whole – wraps his arms protectively around her and holds her close and lets her hide from the whole world in his arms, his chest, his shoulder and neck – wherever she prefers to burrow her face at the time – and the memory itself makes her cry harder, because there's a possibility that he will never hug her like that again ), even though he's just as worried and scared as she is, and Mr Kaplan helps Liz clean up, washing away Red's blood from her hands and producing seemingly out of the thin air fresh clothes for her to change into.

Red, of course, pulls through the surgery, beating all odds, and Liz's heart floods with relief at the good news before sinking when the doctor explains to her and Dembe and Mr Kaplan the extent of Red's injuries and that it's impossible to say when – or even if – he wakes up.

And so the waiting game begins. Liz doesn't leave Red's side, holding his hand, stroking his knuckles with her thumb and never letting go, constantly talking to him and reading to him and even asking Dembe to bring the record player and some records from the Bethesda apartment to play to him, hoping that it would elicit some kind of response from him. Yet, as they days go by, there's not a single, smallest sign that he's aware of anything that's going on around him, that he's still there somewhere and is trying to find his way back to her, to them – he doesn't stir, doesn't so much as flutter his eyelashes, and Liz grows more desperate with each passing day, even though the doctor assures her that Red's slowly but surely improving ( but she can't see it with her own eyes, and if she can't see it, she's less likely to believe it, the more time passes with him just lying there, undisturbed by the loud, chaotic world around him ).

And then there's Agnes... While Liz keeps vigil at Red's bedside, the babysitting duties are split equally between Aram and Samar, Charlene and Cooper, Ressler and Audrey and Dembe and Mr Kaplan. Yet more often than not whoever picks little Agnes up from school and / or her ballet classes brings her over to the safe-house where Liz and Red are. She doesn't seem to be as unnerved by Red's state as her mommy is, climbing on his bed each time she visits ( after giving her mommy the biggest hug, of course ) and leaning in close to him, examining his face thoughtfully before half-asking, half-stating "He's still tired, mommy?". And Liz usually replies with a hoarse "Yes, baby" because she doesn't trust herself not to get choked up if she tries to answer more eloquently. Agnes simply nods then, satisfied with the explanation why he hasn't woken up yet, and settles against Red's side – mindful of his injuries and the spider web of wires and tubes connecting him to all sorts of monitors and machines – and either naps ( especially, on ballet classes days ) or tells her mommy and Red ( she talks to him just like Liz does much too easily – promising him to show him the new moves she's learnt when he wakes up etc. – as if she's already done that before or seen anyone else do that... unbeknownst to Liz, she did both – when Liz herself was in a coma, Agnes both saw Red talk to her mommy and was encouraged by him to talk to her, too, because it may help her mommy sleep easier and maybe she'll get better sooner and finally wake up ) about her day or does her homework or draws ( more often than not, she draws either cards for Red to read when he wakes up or just things she wants him to see ). And when the time comes for her to leave, she always kisses Red on the cheek, wishing him "sweet dreams" and to get better soon, and then gives her mommy, who tries so very hard not to tear up but fails miserably, a hug and a kiss, too, and tells her frequently that she shouldn't cry because Red is just too tired, just like she – Liz – once was, and that he just needs to sleep a bit more.

And when the door behind Agnes closes and Liz is sure her daughter won't see / hear her, she breaks down hard, in big, ugly sobs, because her little girl shouldn't be acting so naturally in this kind of situation and because she wishes so hard that Red just woke up, because she can't do this, any of this, without him.

In the end, once his body has healed itself enough and he regained enough of his strength, Red, of course, does wake up. It's a slow process, and Liz thinks she might either faint or go mad from the overwhelming feelings that are swirling inside of her when Red moves for the first time in what seems to her like forever – squeezing her hand feather-lightly – and when he leans slightly, unconsciously into her touch when she strokes his cheek – out of habit, without even expecting any sort of reaction from him and being pleasantly surprised – and when he opens his eyes for the first time – it's a brief occurrence, with his eyes slipping shut tiredly again after just a few moments, and he's still pretty much out of it, apparently, not even noticing her presence by his side, but for Liz it's a major event – and when he finally, finally looks directly at her – alive and conscious and alert – and calls her "Lizzy". He's still weak and his voice sounds terrible and Liz knows she shouldn't let all of her pent-up feelings – the fear and despair and frustration and love and relief and exhaustion – out on him like that – he's just woken up, after all – but she can't hold back the tears nor the jumbled mess of "thank you"s and "I love you"s and " "I've missed you"s and "I'm so so happy you're back" and "I was so worried" and "Don't ever scare me like that again" that spills from her lips as she leans in to kiss him lightly and give him the gentlest of hugs...

(Since I'm not a ficwriter and, therefore, have no intentions of using this pile of ideas/images/feelings myself, I wouldn't mind at all if you or any other writer drew inspiration from this rambling of mine)

Ahhhhh 😭😭😭 Are you sure you're not a fic writer, anon?? Cause this reads like some quality hurt/comfort to me!! 🥲🥲 Honestly, this is a lovely scenario to imagine & it gives me a slightly bitter sense of satisfaction to think of Liz suffering through just a fraction of the time Red spent by her side while she was in her coma... especially if it's the catalyst for fEeLiNgS to emerge tee hee bc, you're RIGHT, we were woefully deprived of those situations in the show & I'll never not be sad about it tbh. More specifically, things I love the most about this in no particular order: Liz having to "fight the instinct to curl around her lover & snarl" *swoon*, Liz swearing she will kill him herself if he dies LMAO, Dembe hugging her for comfort & Mr. Kaplan helping her get cleaned up 🥺🥺🥺, Liz playing records for Red yasss, AGNES & everyone taking turns babysitting her while she misses her Daddy desperately but deals with the situation with a maturity & grace beyond her years in an effort to help her grieving Mommy through it cool cool mkay mkay, Liz only breaking down once Agnes leaves OWWW, anddddd Liz being a blubbering mess when Red finally wakes up & calls her "Lizzie" & they kiss *whispers* it's fine, i'm fine 🙃 IN CONCLUSION, I love this anon, thank you for sharing this lovely little AU with me!! 🥰 And much, much love to you, of course, my friend!! ❤️

[dudeandduchess]

Reading all these Rengoku requests got me angsty but I love your writing so much Jen. Can you do a scenario where Kyojuro has been in love with the reader and hasn't told them yet? Like the reader is away on a mission so he plans on confessing once she gets back but never has the chance because she unfortunately died during the mission

Okayyyy, since I wanted it to bring max pain, I made the first half of it really fluffy— just so Kyō can experience the pain of an almost-love kind of relationship. So imagine me bawling my eyes out at 4 AM while writing this. Hope you like it, bby. 😂

For songs, I listened to It’s You by Henry (that While You Were Sleeping song, bc I love it so much), and Last Kiss by Taylor Swift. So please give a listen to those songs, if you bbys want to. 😌💜✨

***

Kyōjurō x F!Reader: Last Kiss (SFW Scenario):

Warnings: Angst, Character Death, Heartbreak, Almost-Relationship

Kyōjurō’s heart felt like it was about to leap right out of his chest with how frantically it was pounding. His total concentration breathing had even faltered for a moment, as his eyes never left the striking ones that were right across from him.

He opened his mouth to say the words that were burning on the tip of his tongue, only to close it when his nerves got the better of him. It wasn’t often that he got nervous or shy, but (Y/n) always rendered those two emotions out of him whenever she was near him.

It wasn’t because she was scary or anything negative, but his nervousness all stemmed from the reason that he was in love with her; truly, madly, deeply in love with her.

To the point where he had tried to muster up the courage to confess to her lots of times before, but had backed out of each and every single opportunity— all because he thought his heart was going to give out with how fast it beat inside his chest.

Those failed confessions, however, were some of the best memories he had— since, in every single one, he was afforded a close look at (Y/n)’s absolutely breathtaking smile. And the clincher was that it was always aimed at him during those moments.

So, it was safe to say that he committed each and every one of those moments to heart.

Especially that very moment, because there was just something in the Snow Hashira’s eyes that pulled him in closer; she seemed to radiate excitement, almost. And the slight flush on her cheeks really wasn’t helping with keeping his heart calm because, if anything, that blush made her look even more beautiful than she already was.

Slowly, a small grin lifted the corners of (Y/n)’s lips upward, making her eyes crinkled up at the corners— as her cheeks had lifted up as well with the sincere action. She couldn’t hold it back no matter how hard she tried, because she already had a clue as to what Kyōjurō had called her attention for.

Just like all the other times that he had purposely sought her out, it was pretty obvious at that point that he was going to confess.

But, each and every time he did so, he always backed down and told her a compliment instead; but her favorite moment was when he had pulled her close and whispered how much he had missed her while he was away on his mission.

To that day, she always relived that memory inside her head— especially when she missed him.

And she would be damned if she let another opportunity to tell him that she loved him back pass by. So, she took the initiative and cupped his cheeks in her hands— then pulled him in for a kiss.

It was nothing more than a quick peck on the lips on her part, but she was positively surprised when the Flame Hashira’s arms wrapped around her waist to pull her flush against his chest; right before he caught her lips with his once more.

However, just as things were getting good, a squawk from above had both Hashira pulling away from each other— as if they had been caught doing something much worse than kissing.

Kyōjurō cleared his throat, as his eyes flickered down to look at his feet out of shyness. While (Y/n) bit down on her bottom lip, as she tried to form a coherent sentence in her mind.

“(L/n) (Y/n), head on your mission. To the West. To the West. Hurry!” The young woman’s crow squawked, which had her deflating slightly at the notion of being summoned away when both her and Kyōjurō were about to verbalize their feelings.

“I guess that’s my cue to leave,” She whispered, with a wistful tone coloring her words. “I’ll see you soon, Ren-... Kyōjurō.”

Her use of his first name made the Flame Hashira’s gaze snap up to her, but it was to see her beginning to back away from him. He opened his mouth to speak, but was ultimately silenced— once again— when she spoke words that made his heart stop.

“I love you.” With that, (Y/n) smiled at him one last time, before turning on her heel and running down the dirt road.

He couldn’t even move a single muscle to chase after her, as he was too stupefied at her blatant admission of the same words that he’d always wanted to tell her. Hell, he could only blink and stare at her retreating form, as he whispered, “I love you too.”

They would see each other when she returned, and he would be lying if he said that he wasn’t already excited for that.

So he waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Until two weeks had passed and not a single letter from her had arrived via her crow. He had even taken to visiting her home, because he had been hoping to walk with her to the Ubuyashiki estate; only to find out that her home was only being taken care of by her father— as well as a kakushi.

She still wasn’t home from her mission.

So, with a heavy feeling in his gut, he tried to push his thoughts of her to the back of his mind— if only to focus on the emergency Hashira meeting that he had been summoned to.

When he got there though, it was to a somber atmosphere. Everyone was already patiently waiting for Oyakata-sama, and he didn’t dare to question what was going on; he simply took his place between Uzui and Kanroji— but part of him felt so unused to having Kanroji beside him, as it was always (Y/n) whom he was next to during their meetings.

The minutes ticked by slowly; so sluggishly that the thick silence had begun to unsettle him so much. Something was terribly wrong, and he couldn’t put his finger on what exactly it was.

But it was enough to warrant all the Hashiras’ unnerving silence, as well as everyone’s somber expressions.

Kyōjurō was just about to give in and ask Kanroji if she knew what was going on, when the announcement was made that Oyakata-sama had arrived.

Everyone straightened up in their kneeling positions, and bowed their heads in respect for the head of the Demon Slayer Corps. And once the pleasantries had been doled out, the somber atmosphere came crashing down upon them once more.

“I’ve called all of you here, my children, as I have something to give all of you— from (Y/n).”

Kyōjurō’s eyes widened at that and, immediately, tears sprung up into them before spilling down his cheeks. His breathing had ceased, and his vision was blurry— hell, he knew that he must have looked like a slack-jawed prick with his reaction, but he couldn’t care less.

He’d just felt like his entire world had been pulled from beneath his feet, yet he still pushed himself to accept the sealed envelope that a kakushi was handing to him.

With shaky hands, he broke the wax seal on the envelope— which bore (Y/n)’s initials— and carefully unfolded the letter; her last letter for him.

Before he read through the letter though, he looked at his comrades on either side of him and saw that they received items; like Uzui who had received a sparkling, red ruby— and Kanroji whom had received a very intricate hair pin.

He couldn’t even bring himself to look away from the hair pin, not because he was envious of not getting anything materialistic, but because reading through (Y/n)’s letter would mean that she really was gone.

Because that’s what the meeting had been for; to give out her final presents to all of her fellow Hashira.

His gaze fell back on the letter in his hands once more, only to cradle the pristine, white parchment against his chest— as the most most pained cry left Kyōjurō’s lips. He gritted his teeth, in an effort to subdue his wails and sobs, but it did very little good for him as he doubled over and held (Y/n)’s letter even closer to him.

Everything inside him told him not to read the contents, because to read it would be to accept that she really was gone— yet he clung on to it as if his life depended on it; even though the very knowledge that it existed ripped his soul at the very seams.

Because it was the last thing that he had to remind him of (Y/n). Even if it was a simple piece of paper.

--

((P.S. Should I write down the contents of the letter???? And how Kyō came to read it???? Bc I planned on doing it, but it would be even sadder. Lmao.))