#by someone who grew up around the same time they did

[lubdubology]

Fools Rush In

SYNOPSIS: On a day meant for love, you’re sure feeling a shortage of it. Until Logan shows you, he’s not as unaffected by you as he lets on.

PAIRING: Worst Logan x fem!reader 

WC: 2.5k

WARNINGS: angst; swearing; mentions of alcohol consumption; mentions of self doubt; brief mentions of death/gore; dual POVs

A/N: If you saw this posted after Valentine’s Day, no you didn’t. Here’s my entry into the Loveuary Challenge that @yxtkiwiyxt and I hosted! Just some angsty fluff with a happy ending for our favorite Logan. I hope you enjoy this and any likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated!

In hindsight, you should have seen this coming. 

Who agrees to a lunch date on Valentine’s Day? 

But he had seemed nice and kind. You had spent the last few weeks talking through the dating app, discussing all those typical online dating things—jobs, pets, hobbies. Things seemed to click. You liked the same things. Seemed to have a vibe. 

Hell, he had been the one to suggest lunch this Friday. 

And here you were, dressed up and sitting alone, nursing your glass of wine desperately trying to ignore the stares from the other patrons. Thirty long minutes have dragged by, each one sinking you further and further into your seat and gnawing on your self-esteem. Embarrassment licks at your skin and you want nothing more than for the floor to open and swallow you whole. 

Anything but the pitying stares burning into your flesh. 

Downing the rest of your wine, you pull some cash from your wallet and toss it on the table before leaving the restaurant. You swear every eye in the place watches you leave, murmured gossip following you out the door. 

God, you hate dating.

There’s a chill in the air and the cold nips at your ankles as you walk down the sidewalk towards your apartment. But you relish the discomfort, the cold easing the burning shame staining your cheeks. 

Walking up to the building, you find Logan outside smoking a cigar. As if today couldn’t get worse. 

You hesitate for half a step and contemplate turning around, avoiding your apartment completely, but then Logan looks up, his sharp gaze already on you and you know there’s no escaping him now. 

Ever since Wade brought him home from the Void just over a year ago, you two have been dancing around each other. There was no denying he was a handsome man—you weren’t blind—but it was his mysterious gruffness that pulled you in. Logan seemed alone in much the same way you did—wandering through life just looking for someone to understand you, to listen without judgement, shoulder those heavy weights that threatened to sink you.

You knew he came with more baggage that most—disgraced superhero in his world and all that—but it never bothered you. If he was truly as bad as everyone in that universe thought, he wouldn’t be so hell bent on atonement. Regret basically oozed from his pores. 

And while he hasn’t fully opened up to you, you know he’s showed you a fair share of his dirty laundry. It started as quick run ins in the hallway, simple hellos and goodbyes. Then longer trudges up the stairs together, hands full of grocery bags, bitching about the weather and other inconveniences. Those simple interactions rapidly grew into an odd sort of friendship—Logan would spend time with you, watching bad reality TV and you would spend time with him, mostly making sure he didn’t kill Wade due to his antics during game nights. 

Except there was always an undercurrent of attraction that neither of you knew what to do with. You’d lean into him on the couch and he’d sling an arm around your shoulder or rest comforting hand on your thigh. Logan would gravitate towards you in group outings, tucking into your quiet acceptance of his discomfort before you’d sneak him out. You’d join him on the roof, sharing puffs of his cigar and eating food you’d smuggled in your jacket. 

That slow burn between you was warm but never burned. Until you tried to stoke the flames higher and it blew up in your face. As the countdown struck midnight on New Year’s Eve, you had leaned in and kissed him—something you had been imagining for months. 

What would it be like? Would his lips be soft or firm? Would he inhale sharply at the press of your mouth to his? What would he taste like? Would he grip your arms to pull you closer?

Instead, Logan’s entire body had stiffened, his eyes wide and instead of pulling you towards him, he pushed you away. And then, without explanation, he left, your cheeks burning in shame. 

So, seeing him today, on a day for love, was the last thing you wanted. 

You cross your arms, steeling yourself as Logan assesses you with his sharp gaze, his cigar burning between his fingers. The scent curls around him, familiar and grounding in a way you now hate. 

“You’re dolled up pretty,” he says, flicking the butt of his cigar to the ground and grinding it out beneath his boot.

You desperately try to ignore the flutters in your belly at his words. “Yeah, well, it was a wasted effort,” you mutter, hoping he drops it.

Logan frowns. “What happened?”

You sigh, debating whether to brush off his question, but something in the way he’s looking at you—steady, expectant, like the friend he used to be—makes the words slip out before you can stop yourself. “I got stood up.”

You don’t miss the way his posture stiffens and his jaw clenches and you can almost feel the indignation simmering just under the surface. But then he looks away, gaze dropping towards his feet before he says, “Guy’s a fucking moron.”

The way he says it—so matter of fact, like the idea of anyone standing you up is so unfathomably unimaginable—sends a rush of warmth through your chest. This is the Logan you miss—the one whose instant reaction is to stand by your side, be that shoulder to lean upon. But it’s not enough to cool the sting of humiliation or the frustration bubbling beneath your skin that has been threatening to boil over for over a month.

“What does that make you then?”

Logan’s eyebrow quirks at your sharp question and the brief whisp of softness between you slips away as your words fully hit him. His expression hardens, morphing into that guarded look that’s become all too familiar to you. “Wanna run that by me again?” he asks, his voice low, rougher now.

“You heard me,” you reply, lifting your chin just enough to meet his gaze, feigning a confidence you don’t entirely feel. “What does that make you? You’re the one who walked away when I kissed you. Didn’t even give me an explanation, just tucked tail and ran.”

The air between you thickens, charged and heavy, and for a moment the sounds of the city fade. All that exists is just you two, standing arm’s length out of reach, an awkward tension simmering just beneath the surface.

Logan takes an almost hesitant step forward, eyes narrowing as he attempts to read your face. “You think I walked away because I didn’t want to kiss you?” His voice is quieter, but barely controlled frustration is laced in his tone. “You really think I’m that much of an asshole?”

You scoff, crossing your arms tighter across your chest. “I don’t know what to think, Logan! You pushed me away and left me standing there like an idiot. And now you’re acting like you care when you’ve barely spoken to me since.”

Logan’s nostrils flare as he exhales sharply through his nose. His fists clench and unclench at his sides and you can see the muscle jump in his jaw. You’ve seen all this before—Logan at war with himself, all those emotions he won’t voice out loud screaming within the confines of his skull. Normally, you’d have the patience for this, allow him space and time to wrangle his emotions. 

But not today. 

“Don’t worry about it, Logan,” you say, voice tight with frustration. “Just shove it deep down where it can’t hurt you. You’re good at that.”

You don’t give him time to respond before turning on your heel and walking into the building, leaving him out in the cold. 

+++

The moment you walked away, the door slamming shut behind you, Logan could feel it. The sharp, gnawing realization that he fucked up.

Again.

Every inch of him screamed to just follow you, chase after you, explain the mess in his head that so often scrambled his intentions, to tell you that he does want you, that he always has. But his self-doubt and regret choked him, clawing at his throat and rendering him mute. 

Now, he’s just hoping he hasn’t lost you for good.

Nerves crawl up his spine and for a brief moment, he hesitates before knocking on your door. Thankfully, you answer, opening the door only enough to peer up at him, your expression drawn and tired. 

You’ve dressed down, your fancy date dress exchanged for comfortable lounge pants and a slightly too big shirt that hangs off your shoulder. Your face is scrubbed of makeup, your cheeks rosy all on their own. 

You’re lovely and Logan blinks at you, forgetting for just a moment what he was doing there. Feigning a cough, he shoves his hands in his pockets and rocks slightly on his feet. 

“Look, I—" he starts, then stops, exhaling hard through his nose. 

You remain silent, watching him with guarded eyes but giving him the time to find the right words. You understand him in a way he doesn’t deserve, accepting of flaws that run deep and make him difficult to love. 

Logan shifts again, pulling one hand from his pocket to rub at the back of his neck. “Can I—will you—fuck.”

The briefest flicker of a smile dances across your lips and it’s then that he knows you’re not totally lost to him. 

“I’ve somethin’ to show you,” he finally manages, nodding back towards his apartment. 

You raise one eyebrow and cross your arms across your chest. “Something to show me?” you repeat, tone skeptical. 

Logan nods, his heart beating just a tick faster as you open the door wider, taking half a step out of your apartment. With a slight hesitance, you follow him and a surge of relief washes over him. Opening the door to his apartment, Logan doesn’t miss the way you stop short as you shuffle in behind him. 

The lights are dimmed and he’s lit every candle he could find, plus a few cheap tea lights he found at the corner store. A soft glow flickers off the walls, casting long shadows across the room. The small kitchen table is covered and set with two place settings, a vibrant spray of red tulips in the middle. 

You’re silent as you take in the space, eyes darting from the candles to the table and back to Logan’s face. He shifts on his feet, suddenly uneasy at the quiet way you’re taking everything in. 

“I, uh��“ Logan clears his throat. “‘m not very good at all this. But I figure with it being Valentine’s Day and all…” He trails off and vaguely gestures towards the room.

You turn to look at him, really look at him, and something in his chest tightens. He’s fought in wars, stared down death more times than he can count, yet standing here waiting for your response makes him more anxious than he’s been in some time. 

“You did all this?” you ask, your voice soft as you walk around the table, rubbing a tulip petal between your fingers. 

“Yeah,” he mutters, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I know it ain’t much, but—“

“It’s everything.”

Your voice remains soft, but words hit him like a punch to the gut. Logan’s eyes snap to yours, searching, hoping that you aren’t just talking about the candles or the flowers. That you mean the effort, the thought, the way he’s desperately trying despite all the walls he still has built around himself. 

You take a slow step towards him, the candlelight dancing in your eyes. “Logan,” you whisper, and it’s not disappointment or hesitation he hears in your voice. It’s something soft, something lovely, something that makes his pulse hammer loudly in his ears.

Logan swallows hard. “I know I messed up. And I don’t always say the right thing. Do the right thing.” He exhales, voice rough around the edges. “But I didn’t want you thinkin’ I don’t care about you. ‘Cause I do.”

Your eyes glisten, and for a moment, he thinks you might cry. Instead, you let out a small breath of laughter, shaking your head. “Oh, Logan,” you sigh, stepping close enough to feel your warmth. “You idiot.”

His brow furrows and his lips part to retort, but then your fingers curl into the hem of his shirt, tugging him forward, closer. You lean up, eyes focused on his mouth and his breath hitches in his throat. 

“I’m not a good man,” he murmurs as your lips over just over his, your breath warm and damp. 

Your eyes flick up to his, your grip tightening against his shirt. “You are.”

“I’ve hurt people.”

Logan knows he’s stalling, that he should just close the gap between you and kiss you like he’s been wanting to for months. But he needs you to know he’s not worth this, not worth your grace and acceptance and your determination to love him. Needs to give you that one final opportunity to see what he truly is. 

You pull back just enough to meet his gaze, your eyes soft. “Do you regret it?” you ask, no judgement to your tone. 

He’s still haunted by the memories of his previous world. The blood, the carnage, the piled bodies of his friends—his family—all because he was too selfish, too stubborn to see what was right in front of him. Their screams echo in his mind, the one lingering reminder of all the ways he’s failed. 

You seem to read him, your hand coming up to rest against his cheek and he sighs. “Every damn day,” he finally answers, his voice thick. 

Your thumb brushes against his cheek, gentle and tender in a way that almost destroys him. “Then you’re not the monster you think you are, Logan.”

That’s it. That’s his breaking point. 

Logan closes the distance between you, finally, finally, pressing his lips to yours. It’s not gentle or soft—he’s waited too long for that. Instead, he kisses you like he’s starving, like he’s never tasted anything as sweet or as lovely as your mouth against his. 

You make a soft, desperate sound against his mouth and it nearly undoes him. Logan grips your waist, pulling you flush against him, his hands rough but reverent as he slips them underneath your shirt. You respond in kind, tangling your fingers into his hair, holding him there like you never went to let go. 

He’s not new to kissing, to loving someone. But it’s never felt like this, like the beginning of something instead of the end. 

You pull back, breathless, and start laughing, a soft giggle that warms him. 

“What?” he asks, a laugh of his own threatening to break through. 

“Nothing, just,” you beam up at him, “Happy Valentine’s Day, Logan.”

He smiles back. “Happy Valentine’s Day.” 

[vampstarkey]

❝  jealous of your brother ..

Masterlist ☆

＿ warnings: unprotected sex, sucking on the neck, virgin reader, cheating, pussy slapping, jealous reader, face sitting, boobs pressing and female masturbation.

＿ Note: this has not been reviewed (if that's not your thing then leave)

You were the adopted daughter of the Cameron family, the little princess Kook. Ever since you were little, everyone on the island knew your name. You grew up surrounded by privileges, always protected by Rafe, your older brother. He wouldn't let anything or anyone get close to you without his approval. No matter how old you were, he always made sure to watch over you, keep you away from any danger and, especially, from anyone he deemed unworthy of your presence. After all, brothers do these things, right?

But lately, things started to change. Rafe, the same guy who spent nights at parties hugging different girls, was suddenly in a serious relationship. You never imagined he was the kind of guy who would get attached to someone, not after so many nights watching him drink until he lost his mind and get involved with any girl who came along. This always bothered you, although you would never admit it. It was a strange, suffocating feeling, but you tried to swallow it.

That night, another party was happening at the Cameron mansion. Ward and Rose were out, and as always, Rafe took advantage of his parents' absence to turn the house into a meeting place for his friends, the same ones as always, all noisy, drinking and having fun. You usually preferred to avoid that kind of environment. But this time, you decided to come down from your room, maybe out of curiosity, maybe because a part of you wanted to see Rafe.

As you crossed the crowded room, your eyes soon found the scene that made your stomach turn: a brunette sitting on his lap, her lips close to your ear as she whispered something that made you smile in a way you didn't like at all. His arm rested on her waist, his fingers drawing lazy circles on her skin. It was obvious that the girl was his girlfriend.

You felt a lump tighten in your throat, a heat rising through your body, an almost childish urge to roll your eyes and leave. But before you could move away, Rafe had already noticed your presence. And now, his eyes were fixed on you. "What are you doing here?" Rafe looked at you in surprise, after all he knew that you almost never showed up when he was throwing a party.

You crossed your arms trying to look indifferent, even though you felt the weight of his gaze falling on you “I didn’t know I needed your permission to walk around my own house, Rafe.”

The boy raised his eyebrows, crossing his arms before lightly touching the girl's leg in his lap. "Give me a minute with my little sister, dear." He told her, giving her a carefree smile. The brunette nodded, standing up without question and blending into the crowd. As soon as she was out of sight, Rafe turned his attention to you, walking over to where you were. "I never said you couldn't come, y/n, I just assumed you'd be staying in your room, like always." His eyes went up and down, looking at your body.

"Well, but now I'm here, is there a problem?" The words came out more firmly than you felt inside, but heat quickly rose to your cheeks when he looked at you like that, maybe it was just in your head. "No, no problem, I just think you should change out of those short pajamas, it's not the right environment for that." There he was giving you orders like he always did and in fact it was to be expected. "I don't want to change," you replied without hesitation.

“Don’t test my patience, go upstairs and put on something else right now.” The order was direct, sharp, and you felt a shiver run down your spine. Considering the environment, your outfit really wasn’t appropriate at all, but that seemed more like an excuse than a genuine concern. The short pink shorts made of thin silk and the white blouse that accentuated your breasts, a combination you wore only to feel comfortable at home, now seemed to be the center of criticism. Rafe, who always saw you wearing this type of outfit, knew very well the impact it caused.

You arched an eyebrow, trying not to let your discomfort show, and responded with a forced smile. “Stop it. Why don’t you go worry about your girlfriend?” A sarcastic smile expanded on Rafe’s face, and he realized right away what was happening. It was as if he was amused by the fact that you couldn’t hide your irritation and jealousy. He let out a low laugh, but the teasing tone was clear. “Oh, so that’s it, are you jealous?” Your eyes widened at that observation. He wasn't wrong, but of course you weren't going to say it.

"That's the stupidest thing you've ever said to me, I'm not jealous." The answer came out in a rush, louder than you would have liked, trying to hide the truth behind words that didn't have as much power as your trembling voice. "Don't be silly, I know you." He watched you with an almost triumphant smile, as if he was unraveling every piece of you.

He took a long step towards you, and before you could react, he grabbed your arm tightly. Rafe came even closer, his lips almost touching your ear as he whispered: “I can prove you right, sis.” That low, possessive tone of voice was enough to send shivers down anyone’s spine.

The feeling of having no control over what was happening made your mind spin, and you found yourself wondering where this would take you. “Don’t play with me like that, Rafey.” His name, pronounced that way, had a different weight. That was how you used to call him when you were still a little girl.

“Oh, yeah? I don’t play with things I’m interested in, sis.” Rafe’s voice sounded almost like a challenge, loaded with something you couldn’t define. Before you could respond, he still held your arm tightly, pulling you without warning to a secluded corner of the house.

The surroundings seemed to disappear, and the only sound that filled the space was the distant music of The Weeknd that played in the background, creating a melody that contrasted with the tension, that was enough for you to realize what was happening. “Did you know that I always wanted you, y/n?” Rafe’s words hung in the air, a whisper that seemed to carry an immense weight, he looked at your lips as if he wanted to devour them.

You wanted to deny it, to push that idea away, but somehow you knew he was telling the truth and you could no longer try to hide how much you wanted your hot brother to touch you or do anything with your body, no matter how wrong and dirty it was. “Do you really want me, Rafe?” You asked hopefully as you felt the space shrinking more and more as he got closer.

Rafe took a strand of your hair and put it behind your ear. “You know I do, don’t play innocent, you can be everything, but innocent I know you’re not.” The boy placed you against the wall, holding your hands on each side of your body, leaving you immobile.

What you didn't know was that your older brother had caught you masturbating in your room a few times during the night, but he never intervened since he loved watching you rubbing yourself on your pillow or desperately sticking your fingers inside.

Every now and then, when you were out of the house, Rafe would take some of those thin lace panties of yours from your dresser drawer and smell them, he would rub them on his own cock while imagining everything he would like to do to his sweet and dear little sister.

Rafe's touch was quick, pulling the back of your neck firmly. In a subtle movement, his lips brushed yours, he bit your lips slowly, almost as if he was testing your limits, while his tongue slid softly into your red mouth, teasing you. "But... what about your girlfriend?" You asked with difficulty since the way he played with your lips made it a little difficult for you to speak.

“Shh, be quiet, don’t worry about her, we’re not doing anything wrong, after all I’m your brother.” He continued to pay attention to your lips, but now finally attacking them for good, Rafe kissed you with desire, pressing your body even more against the wall. His hands followed your waist, going down lower and lower in hot grips, the boy groped your ass with desire as he felt an uncontrolled, almost primitive hunger, the forbidden desire was erotic.

“Let me take care of you, will you let me?” He squeezed once more on the pink fabric of your short shorts that revealed a piece of your soft ass. “Yeah, I’ll let you..” A muffled moan left your lips after feeling the heat of Rafe’s hands against your skin. “Come with me, trust me.” Rafe said full of authority that you couldn’t ignore. He grabbed your hand with a firmness that seemed like a command, and before you could even think about the consequences, your feet moved, following you without question. He climbed the stairs with an almost predatory agility, the pressure of his hand pulling you closer to him.

When you reached the door to his room, you opened it without hesitation, and the sound of the latch clicking was like a signal for what was to come. In one fluid movement, he pulled you inside, and the air in the room seemed denser, heavier, as if the world outside no longer existed, the door closed behind you, and the darkness of Rafe's room seemed to envelop everything, as if you were in a place where nothing else mattered, just him and you.

— ☆ . .

Rafe was on top of you, already shirtless, as he hurriedly took off your silk shorts. “Tell me, has anyone ever fucked this sweet little pussy?” You shook your head in disagreement, no one had ever done anything sexual to you before. “Your brother is going to take your virginity then, sweetie.” It felt so wrong, but it was so delicious that you were just letting yourself get carried away.

Your shorts were thrown on the floor, giving Rafe a view of your tiny panties, he could see the wet spot that had formed from your arousal. Knowing that you were a virgin had only made the boy harder, being the first to taste your pussy was all he wanted.

“Sit on my face.” Overcome with lust, that was exactly what you did, it didn’t take long for the positions to reverse, you pulled your panties down, throwing them on the floor, soon adjusting yourself on top of Rafe, you sat on his face relaxing your pussy on top of him.

Rafe felt like he was going to collapse having all that sight before him. His brother's tongue moved slightly against your wet pussy while he had his hands resting on your thigh. "God, that feels so good.." You moaned, starting to rub yourself against his face.

Your pussy covered his face, Rafe felt like he could die suffocated by your pussy and still die happy. You held on to the headboard of the bed while your hips moved on his face, sliding so easily that it made you numb. The feeling of having a tongue sucking you for the first time was incredible, you just wanted more, you wanted to be able to feel everything Rafe was capable of giving you.

He sucked your clit, rubbing his tongue and nose against you, feeling your taste and your smell. "I want to taste this pussy every day, it tastes delicious." Rafe's hot breath hit your slit, you were trying hard not to moan loudly as he sucked you like that. Rafe was squeezing you tightly, swallowing you like it was the last thing he could do in his life.

You pulled your shirt hard, letting it fall, your nipples were hard and exposed, they swayed in a back and forth motion as you rubbed yourself against his face. “Rafey..” Your eyes closed tightly as you moaned softly, Rafe knew you were going to cum fast, you had never had this kind of contact, so he stopped sucking you, preventing you from finishing so quickly.

“Why did you stop, Ray?” You said as you sat back down on the bed, your breath coming up and down in your chest frantically. “You can’t cum now, sweetie, or the fun will be over.” Rafe said as he took off his pants along with his blue boxers clumsily, you watched feeling a heat between your legs, he soon pulled you again, but this time turning you to the side. “I want to fuck you like this.” The rough way he picked you up and turned you to the side made you bite your lip.

Rafe stood behind you, moving your hair away from your neck and getting closer. He could feel your ass rubbing against his cock from behind. “Open your legs for me.” As soon as you heard the request, you opened yourself for him. Rafe held your thigh as he began to rub his cock against your wet pussy.

His free hand found one of your breasts, squeezing it. Your body shivered as the head of his cock touched your pussy, which was getting increasingly wet. Rafe slid in, but still didn’t penetrate you. You could feel the way he played with your folds. “Be careful..” Your voice came out lower than you intended, a mix of adrenaline and excitement.

Rafe laughed at the comment, but without giving you any answers, he continued rubbing against you. His nose touched your smooth neck, smelling it and leaving small hickeys on the area that immediately turned purple as he continued.

“I’m going to put it inside you now, okay?” Rafe was usually pretty rough in bed, but since it was your first time, he felt the need to warn you before pushing in. “O-okay..”

He rubbed your entrance one last time before putting his cock inside, he pushed slowly as you felt a new and delicious sensation inside you. “Can you handle these nine inches of your brother, sweetie?” He pushed harder and harder as he heard your moans getting more intense.

“Yes, I can.” Rafe kept you open for him, soon moving. “Little slut, naughty.” The boy squeezed one of your breasts again, moving in and out of your pussy, the headboard of the bed banged against the wall, the only thing that could stop anyone from hearing what was happening inside the room was the music that was still playing outside. “Fuck, I love this.” He thought it was funny to see you cursing, it was fucking exciting to see how slutty you could be when no one was watching. His hips moved quickly, you felt like he could burst the walls of your pussy.

His breathing was fast against your ear, you welcomed every inch. “See how good your brother is fucking you, huh..” What you imagined when you were alone in your room was happening, your brother was really fucking you. “You make me feel so good..” You said, squirming on his cock.

Rafe stopped squeezing your breasts and started stimulating your clit with two fingers, he could feel how tight you were, he had never fucked a girl like that, your brother was marking his territory. “Now you’re mine, no one can touch you like this but me.” He slammed deep inside, your legs were getting weak. “Only I can make you cum, sis.” The words had a strong effect on you, Rafe slapped your pussy causing spasms throughout your body, it was as if moments ago you hadn't even had a little "argument" over jealousy.

He continued rubbing your clit as you slowly melted. "Ray, I-I'm going to-" Your words were cut off by the sensation that took over you, a delicious orgasm slowly hitting you as Rafe thrust inside. "Like that, sweetie, so good." Rafe slapped your pussy again feeling you cum on him.

The boy turned to you again, seeing you completely sweaty after what they did. “Don’t tell daddy what we did, or it’ll get us in trouble.” He grabbed a sheet that was next to him, covering your body. “I won’t tell.” His voice was low and tired as he looked at him with his beautiful Bambi eyes. “Great, sweetie, that’ll be our secret.”

Before he could do anything, Rafe tilted his head slightly, his eyes shining with a mix of amusement and something deeper. “Now tell me, were you jealous?” You crossed your arms and pouted involuntarily, hesitating for a moment before admitting in a low voice: “Okay, I confess… I didn’t like seeing you with another girl.”

The sarcastic smile that formed on his lips was one you already knew very well, full of provocation and certainty. “I may be with her now, but the one I really want is you.”

Your chest rose and fell quickly, the weight of his words hitting you like a shock. But before you could react, a loud knock echoed from the other side of the door, cutting the moment abruptly.

“Hey, Rafe, are you there, man?” Topper’s voice sounded from the other side, full of impatience.

Rafe let out a frustrated sigh as he quickly moved away from you. In a hurried movement, he picked up his scattered clothes and began to dress, clearly as surprised as you were by the interruption. “I have to go, y/n.” He said as he adjusted his shirt, his eyes fixed on yours, as if he wanted to assure you that this wouldn’t end there. “Stay here in my room, I promise I’ll be back, okay?”

Before you could respond, he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss against your forehead. The gesture was contradictory, but loaded with something more. The last thing you heard before the door closed was his voice saying to his friend: “Hey, man.”

[enyaliuswrites]

bf!Zayne x gn!reader tags : reader isn't mc, cute teeth rotting fluff

Zayne always believed he was destined to be alone. Throughout his life, he had never spared anyone a second glance, let alone developed a crush. It wasn’t that he didn’t want love—quite the opposite. He often dreamed of finding someone who truly understood him, someone who could see past his seemingly cold gestures to the good intentions beneath. Someone patient enough to handle his long work hours and straightforward nature.

He never actively sought love, allowing the threads of fate to unravel as they were meant to. If Zayne were to meet someone who understood him, someone that would make him feel intrigued to want to know more about them, then he’d fall. If not, then he would never entertain the idea of being in love. 

Throughout middle school, high school, and university, Zayne had been given love letters and heard rumours of some other students having crushes on him, but he never felt the same. His heart never ‘skipped a beat’ whenever he was talking to someone. So he always politely turned them down, though the next day they always said that his words had cut deep into their hearts, causing some rumors to circulate around his name. 

‘Zayne the heartless man’ ‘Zayne who has a heart as cold as ice’ ‘Zayne who would give hope to girls and break them’

Zayne was perplexed every time he heard this, he had merely told them that he didn’t like them. Did everything someone have to say have to be sugar coated? Did these students have nothing else to do with their lives than crushing on someone and gossiping?

Late-night shifts were accompanied by the quiet tranquility of his office—the soft hum of his computer and the muffled sounds of activity just beyond his door. Sometimes he wished there was someone waiting at home for him, like how some of his other colleagues would say, in a rush to leave with a smile on their face. Someone that completes him. 

But Zayne always pushed the thought away back to the back of his mind, refocusing on his work—sometimes even preparing the next day's reports to keep himself busy. As he grew older, Zayne found himself minimizing every action that he did. Eating, talking, the transition from one task to another—he always made sure to keep it as efficient as possible. Especially in his line of work, where patients' lives were at stake, how could he afford to waste time on idle chatter or leisurely savoring a five-star meal?

However, as he sat across the table from you, all those thoughts vanished, carried away by the breeze that made your hair sway. You looked breathtaking—your skin, eyes, nose, lips, hands, mannerisms, even the way you spoke—everything about you drew him in since the moment he first saw you. There was something about you he couldn’t quite place, but he never felt the need to figure it out. All he knew was that when he was with you, the world quieted, its noise drowning out into nothing.

You understood him more than he understood himself. The little sweets you placed in his pockets for him to savor while he worked. The occasional decorations on his ID badge holder or lanyard, or both. The playful little fights whenever he stole a bite of your cake. The way you would fake laugh at his jokes just to make him feel happy, and even though he knew it was fake, he’s never felt more heard.

Zayne had always known that a heart 'skipping a beat' was just a figure of speech—medically impossible and, besides, something he had never experienced himself. But the first time he saw you smile at him, it felt as if all his years in the medical field melted away. The way your eyes lit up when you talked about something you were passionate about—whether it was a new TV show or your hobbies—made him feel something unfamiliar, something that melted the walls he had spent years constructing.  He loved sweets more than anything—at least, that’s what he thought before he met you. Even as he stole a lick from your ice cream, he would give up all the sweets in the world to be by your side. And you knew that too, but it didn't stop you from 'accidentally’ poking his face, getting ice cream all over his cheek.

Going to the arcade just to play the claw machine had become a weekly tradition. You would drag Zayne along, and he would stand by, watching as you played. Whenever you struggled, he never stepped in right away—he always waited until you asked for help, believing in you but always ready to back you up. Every trip to the arcade was guaranteed at least 3 plushies to be added to your collection.

A/N: You guys don't know how much I've been daydreaming about this man it's unhealthy goddamn. Anyways, please give me requests ya'lls, my delusions are wearing thin. Anyways, stay delusional! (*´∀`*)

dividers by @omi-resources

[daylighted]

DIG THE BLADE DEEPER / DEAN & READER & SAM.

winchester!reader ! the edit that inspired it; the muse behind the tragedy . . . can you even remember what he looks like, anymore?

you had two older brothers, growing up. one that raised you like his own, and one that protected you like he was. your life was untraditional. your father was absent in the few years he was alive, and then he died before he could ever make up that lost time with you.

you didn’t remember his voice, now. and you didn’t think that him existing in your memories was really what he wanted, in the first place.

so that left dean to fill those gaps.

dean, who potty trained you and kept you and sam, even when it meant he didn’t have dinner, himself. dean, who stayed up late at night to listen for any bumps in the night. dean, ten years old to sam’s six to your two, holding a gun bigger than his two hands, pretending that he wasn’t shaking so that his bravery alone could scare the monsters off, not just the weapons he was left to protect sam.

protect sam. raise you. but where did he fit? what was his role in his own life if it didn’t involve either of you?

countless times, dean winchester suffered and broke; went to hell, died, came back, was different than how you’d remembered from your first memories. not unkind, but whittled down, like he realized, too, that all his life added up to was those key things: dad’s rogue soldier, sam’s protector, and your guardian.

maybe he was too big for all of this, you’d thought, the time that the death stuck. when no deal could bring him back, and suddenly you were fatherless again, standing next to your other older brother who’d lost a father, too.

times get easier. death left permanent ink on your heart that didn’t wash away but it did dull and fade.

you have a family. sam has a family. sam brings his by for every christmas, and sometimes you go see his, too, when he can’t make it. time slips through your fingertips like sand, and you’re a mother to grown adults, and sam’s kids have lives, and the winchester name is punctuated by phd and doctorates now. ones that were legitimate, not forged. the times of forging things was done for. there was no one around to keep up that tradition with.

you sit by sam’s bed while he’s gray and tired, recognition in his eyes when he looks at you but hardly enough to count. you tell him what you remember.

dean, on his tiptoes at the stove, stirring the fourth mac and cheese meal of the weak. dean, sitting by the door, gun in his trembling hand, when someone knocks while the sun is down. dean, holding sam when he had nightmares, and rocking you to sleep on school nights.

there was so much dean in your head. permanent ink didn’t disappear but it faded, and every memory you recount is one in silence. dean’s voice has been stolen from him in your head. you don’t hear the familiarity of how he called you bug, even when you grew up and weren’t so small, you just know he did. you don’t hear his cries through the thin apartment’s walls, choking on his breath so you or sam don’t hear — but his eyes were red in the morning, you remembered that.

dean alexander winchester’s face was blurry in your head, and even blurrier in sam’s, with all of the tears and the age and the trauma weathering him thin. he listens, but he’s not fully there, as you tell him all about the hero your big brother was. every word you never got to say to him, but could say now, so maybe they reached him.

this will be the last time you see sam, you know it deep in your soul, the same voice whispering it in your ear that whispered that dean would not see you get married, or meet your kids.

you don’t remember dean’s voice, and his face has tv blur lines through it, not quite right but it’s all you know anymore.

sam’s hand holds yours in a vice, his expression made of exhaustion and sympathy. how were you supposed to live without the boy that raised you and the boy that filled in?

you sat here with sam, tears running down your face, terrified for the fact that you knew you’d forget his voice like you forgot dean’s. that sam would become another missing puzzle piece, stolen away from you, leaving everything misconstrued and unfinished.

there is no comforting words in your head for this loss. no one to hold your hand and keep you together like sam did after dean. there is no dean in your head to remind you of what he sounds like, there is only this bittersweet feeling that maybe sam would get to see him again. his faded memories would brighten. dean would get his voice again, in sam’s head, and sam would get to remember what dean’s nose looked like, and see if the speckles of gray really existed in his hair, or if that was a detail you put in place to cling to the idea that he was there, growing old with you.

it was all you had to get you through this. loss was a blade, digging deep between your ribs, etching another scar into your heart. but time would fade it and blur its edges, even if it all only seemed to dig the blade a little deeper.

notes. i gave dean a middle name because canon never did like they did with sam & that just made me cry harder. i rly don’t know what this is & also i’m on s2 so idek if this is how it ended, i’m just judging off of edits i’ve seen of the ending :’) so if it’s wrong … so sorry i’m out of my own league here.

tags. none just in case u guys read this & wanna take me out back to kill me for it i cannot be held accountable !!!!!!!!!! or liable !!!!!!

[wolfie200510]

Hi! Can you write about a reader who has eating disorders and Rafe helps her overcome them?

Autor's note: I didn't know much about ed so I have to Google it so I'm really sorry if something is not accurate. I tried my best to write this good and I hope you will like it. Also, I'm sorry you have to wait so long.

You're perfect - Rafe Cameron 💖❤️‍🩹

Pics are from pinterest. Dividers: @enchanthings

Summary: reader who has eating disorders and Rafe helps her overcome them

Warning: eating disorder, bullying, body imagine disorder, mention of drug use (I guess that's all)

You and Rafe are friends since you two are little. Your parents are good friends with his parents so you two always spent a lot of time together. You always played together when your parents were talking about business stuff. As you two grew up, you went to the same school, and you were happy that you two were the same age so you two were classmates too. In primary school, it was just the two of you. Only you were there for each other, you even studied together. But in secondary school, he befriended some other guys, and he started spending less time with you.

You didn’t mind it, you know that he needs guy friends too and you were happy that he found some other friends but you also missed him. You felt like he forgot you. But the truth was far from that. Actually, he started to fall for you and when he realized that he quickly acted and pushed you away because he didn’t want to admit it. Of course, you had some friends too, but you weren’t really close to them.

It also didn’t help that as Rafe drifted from you, people started bullying you. You didn’t understand why they did it. Of course, you weren’t as pretty as the other girls in your class, and you weren’t as skinny as them. Even your “friends” started bullying you. You didn’t want to let their words get to your head, but they did. The more hateful words you get, the more insecure you felt. You weren’t fat at all, you didn’t even have any plus weight, but some people still called you fat and ugly.

This bullying went to the point where you started eating less and less so you can lose some weight and you even started counting the calories. You often skipped meals and always told your parents that you just weren’t hungry. And you did lose some weight. You even started using makeup to be more beautiful, but the bullying didn’t stop. You felt that it just got worser. At first, it was just in school that you overheard people talk about you, then people told it your face and they said that they will never understand how Rafe could still be friends with someone like you, then some people even started bullying you on only.

As things got worser over the years, you were considering that you will tell Rafe about it, but you end up not doing it. You know that he has his own problems, and you didn’t want to bother him with your problems. That was until one day Rafe showed up at your place and he asked for your help. He told you about his addiction and how his relationship got worser with his father. You listened to him as he just talked and talked to you all night as his head rested on your chest, his arm wrapped around your waist, and you were playing with his hair.

“I don’t know what to do, Y/n. I’m sorry that I just dropped everything on you like that. Fucking hell, I’m sorry for everything. That I pushed you away and everything else. I’m sorry I only came to you now, but I didn’t know who else would listen to me” he said.

“It’s okay, Rafey. You know I’m always here for you and you can always come to me” you whispered to him, and he nodded.

“I want to stop with the drugs but it’s so hard. I can’t do it alone. Please help me” he asked you and lifted his head to look at you.

“Of course, I will help” you said which made him smile a little and you smiled back.

‘God, I missed your smile. I missed you so much. I was an idiot for pushing you away. But now that I have you back, I will never let you go’ he thought to himself.

Just as you promised to him that night, you help him overcome his addiction. It took a lot of time, and he fell back to using drugs a few times, but you never give up on him, and he was extremely grateful for you to that. He was grateful that you were there for him. With your help he got better and better each day, and now he has been clean for months.

Meanwhile he got better, you got worser. People bullied you more because Rafe started spending time with you again. You know, he is popular, and you were aware, he is very attractive, and a lot of girls like him. While you were just you. Sometimes, you had the urge to tell him about the bullying, but you never told him.

“I just don’t understand why Rafe likes her. I mean… did he see her? She’s not even pretty” you overheard a girl once, after school.

That girl’s words played in your head constantly and you tried to lose even more weight. You tried to act like everything was fine, but Rafe noticed that you eat less, and you started to skip meals. When he first came to you that night, he noticed how much weight you lost already but he didn’t think much about it. But now that he spent more time with you again, he noticed the change in your behavior and your eating habits.

As days passed, Rafe had enough. Whenever he asked if you wanna go out and grab some food, you always come up with some excuse.

Today, the same happened as always. He was at your place, you two were in your room when he asked if you wanna go out to have dinner, but you said no. You were sitting on your bed with a book in your hand as he was standing in the middle of the room.

“Why?” he asked you when you declined his offer again.

“I’m not hungry” you said and shrugged your shoulders.

“That’s a lie” he said “You didn’t eat anything today”

“I did it” you protested.

“Yeah. What did you eat?” he asked with a raised eyebrow, but you couldn’t answer to that, so you avoided eye contact and tried to focus on your book again.

He sighed and sat down next to you, taking the book from your hand then he placed a hand on your thigh.

“What’s wrong?” he asked softly.

“Nothing” you said quickly. Maybe too quickly.

“Please tell me, Y/n. You helped with my addiction. Whatever the problem is, let me help you. Please” he pleaded to you, but you shook your head.

Rafe opened his mouth to speak again but your phone buzzed with a notification. You know, it’s probably another hateful message from someone so you quickly reached for it, but Rafe was faster and grabbed your phone. When he saw the message his eyes darkened.

“Who wrote this?” he asked, his voice dripping with anger. He knew that he will make that person pay whoever wrote it.

“I don’t know” you mumbled.

“You don’t know?” he asked angrily but then he took a deep breath to calm himself.

You took your phone from him with a sigh and opened all the messages. He saw one message, so it wouldn’t change anything if you tell him the truth. You handed him your phone and he read every single message, and you see how his eyes darkened as he read more.

“How long this is going on?” he asked as he looked up at you and you see the anger in his eyes.

“For a while now” you admitted quietly.

“Why didn’t you tell me before? That’s why you lost so much weight? That’s why you don’t eat properly?” he asked you and you just nodded a little.

“I didn’t want to bother you with my problems” you whispered and turned away from him, but he grabbed you chin and forced you to look at him.

“You will never bother me, okay?” he asked firmly and all you could do was nod again “Next time, something like this happens tell me. And now tell me everything about it”

You sighed and wanted to turn away from him, but he didn’t let you. You looked back into his eyes and his eyes were pleading for you to tell him the truth. You sighed again but you told him everything. How it all started and how it got worser. His heart broke with every word you said. He couldn’t believe that he didn’t notice that sooner. That he didn’t notice that you’re struggling.

“Y/n… None of those things are true. You’re extremely beautiful. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on” he reassured you “Don’t you ever starve yourself because of some jealous people” you smiled at his words as your eyes welled up and you nodded.

After that night, Rafe always made sure that you eat properly. He even decided to spend a few weeks at your place to make sure that you’re eating properly and don’t skip meals. He always woke up earlier and made some light breakfast for you. The first few times you didn’t want to eat it.

“That’s too much, Rafe. I’m not hungry” you protested.

“Y/n, please… You didn’t have to eat all of it. Only eat a little please” he pleaded to you, so you started eating what he prepared for you. To your surprise, what he made was delicious. Soon you get used to the fact that he makes breakfast for you, and you start waiting for it because he was always able to surprise you with it.

As you started eating more and more in the mornings, he took that as a step forward. He knew that you wouldn’t get better in a few days. He knew that dealing with eating disorder is not easy, but he desperately wanted to help you overcome it. You still didn’t eat as much as you used to, and you still said no whenever he offered to go out to grab something for dinner. But he was patient, and he didn’t want to force you to eat. He was just glad that, at least now, you have breakfast.

As a few weeks passed Rafe noticed that you finally started eating more. You eat more for lunch and sometimes you said yes when he offered that you two should go out to have dinner. Rafe knew that you’re still counting the calories, but he still took it as a success.

“You know, I’m so proud of you” he said after you come home from a restaurant, and you laid in his arms in your bed while he was playing with your hair.

“Really?” you asked and looked up at him.

“Yes. Really. I’m so happy that you eat more now and that you gained back a little weight. Don’t get me wrong, you’re always beautiful but you are much more beautiful like that” he whispered and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Thanks for helping me” you whispered.

“You helped me too. That’s the least I can do. And soon, you will get rid of counting calories too” he said determined.

Just as he said, he continued to help you and when he bought something for you, he always erased the calories from the packaging so you can’t check it.

“Are you serious, Rafe?” you asked when he did that the first time. He bought you some chocolate and you wanted to check how many calories it contains but it was all black.

“I’m dead serious. Just eat it and don’t worry about the calories” he said seriously.

As the weeks passed, he still did that, and you slowly get rid of the habit of checking the calories in the packaging. As Rafe saw that you stopped looking at the calories and that you finally started eating properly again, he was proud of you, and he was more than happy that he was able to help. The only thing that would make him even happier, if he had the courage to tell you how he actually feels about you. But he was afraid that you don’t feel the same so he decided to keeping his feelings to himself.

[thatbirdrestaurant]

A deeply unnecessary analysis of NaLu and Natsu's feelings

I'm as much of a sucker for insta-love NaLu as the next guy, but I do genuinely believe it took these two a while to fall in love. I can't deny that there was an immediate attraction, especially on Lucy's end, and I do think romantic feelings have been stewing between the two of them since as early as season one, but the realization took a really long time to hit.

We'll start off talking about Lucy, because I have the least to say about her. I've said before that I think Lucy didn't realize she had feelings for Natsu until she realized she was in love with him, which was after the events of the Eclipse Gate. I can pinpoint the exact moment she realized; the moment right after, when her and Natsu are standing in the rubble, and she just starts crying before running to hug him. I think that's the moment she realized that she loves him, and she has for a while.

I believe it took so long for Lucy to realize because she grew up in a very sheltered environment. Her only exposure to typical teenage experiences that didn't involve arranged marriages was teen magazines; she knew what it felt like to be superficially attracted to someone, when someone was objectively attractive, and she's had crushes before, but never really been in love.

We're moving onto Natsu now, because I have the most to say about him by a landslide. For immediate starters, I don't really recognize 100 Year Quest; even though I love all the GruVia development within it, I find it to be a very unnecessary spin-off that doesn't respect its characters, especially Natsu. It's done horrible things for his maturity as a whole, including all the development with Lucy.

Natsu loves Lucy, that's something I've believed for a very long time, and he shows it in his actions more than anything. He's protective of her, he loves spending time with her and he's upset when she isn't around, and he wants to move Heaven and Earth for her. He has since pretty much day one.

But he doesn't realize he has feelings for her until their fight with Kain, and he doesn't even realize he's in love with her until he watches her (future self) die.

That doesn't sound right, though, does it? How can someone watch a scene like Natsu putting the rainbow sakura on a boat, just so Lucy can see it bloom, and think he doesn't realize he likes her until much, much later?

Natsu was raised in an environment where you would cut off both arms and a leg for your friends and family. Fairy Tail is a guild that values familial relationships and friendships more than anything. I truly believe that, to Natsu, most of the things he did for Lucy before the fight with Kain, he did with what he thought were platonic intentions.

On top of that, I do headcanon Natsu to be on the aromantic spectrum. He doesn't feel romantic attraction as "easily" as other people do, and he very seldom actually recognizes it as such. He knows what it is - how could he not, when surrounded by it so often - but he's never really felt it himself. Maybe he had a bit of a childhood crush on Lisanna, but that's stretching it thin. She was his best friend, that's for certain.

Natsu thinks he and Lucy are as normal as friends as anyone else in the guild, until she has the chance to leave him behind for her own safety, and she absolutely refuses. I cannot watch that scene without feeling like I'm watching Natsu fall in love, realize his feelings at the very least.

Another NaLu trope I'm an absolute sucker for is that Natsu thinks, and has thought, him and Lucy have been dating for quite some time. Do I realistically believe so? No, I don't.

I think, to some capacity, Natsu knows that Lucy loves him, too, the same way that he loves her, and I think he believes that's a mutual understanding. To Natsu, they both know how they feel, that they're in love, but they're not in a rush to discuss it, to put a label on it.

He knows they act like a couple, that people who pass them on the street see a boyfriend with his girlfriend, and that's enough for him at the moment.

Natsu and Lucy's final conversation before the end of the series was a confession. Hiro Mashima can pry this belief from my cold dead hands. That was Natsu's way of confessing his love for Lucy, his way of expressing that he wants them to be together forever, but he's still Natsu, and he still thinks Lucy knows he loves her.

Lucy is a very shy person; she gets flustered just from Natsu standing too close, and Natsu is already content with the two of them just existing near one another. Would he like to hug and kiss Lucy? Of course he would, but he doesn't need it.

Where him and Lucy are is already more than enough for him, he just, unfortunately, doesn't realize that Lucy isn't on the same page. She would like to be, though she doesn't even realize it, but she doesn't quite have the courage for it.

While I do think Lucy is pining for Natsu, I don't think she's doing so painfully. She gets flustered when people insinuate her and Natsu are a couple, as anyone would, but she doesn't seem very torn up about correcting people. She loves him, yes, but she's completely fine with just being his friend. She's grateful enough to have him in her life.

They're in this weird limbo of 'not a couple, but not just friends' because while they're not oblivious to their own feelings, they're oblivious to the impression the other has about their relationship. Natsu thinks they're dating, but are taking things slow; Lucy thinks they're just friends, but would love to be more.

[multifandom-nerds-blog]

Me after chapter 201 (What took you)

So, about Ando. (And his contradictions) huh.

We start of with the most important thing, Sakamoto telling Ikari that she's a creep. (Thank you Taro, she really is. ) Before Shin picks up Andos weapon to threaten him.

It's clear that the stress of the whole situation is just getting to much to bottle up finally. He sneaked on the cruise to find him, in hope to reconcile with him. He's been on his own for FOUR YEARS, looking for information about Ando. Mind you, since he was only 9. He's barely even a teenager with 13 right here. He probably slept on the streets, and who knows what he had to deal with. He's skinny and probably doesn't get to eat regularly. Same for his eyebags, he probably can't find a safe spot often enough. (Not to forget the insane sensory overload he must feel compared to the underground lab. And I don't just mean his ESP with that.)

He's angry. His hopes for connection got crushed with his own father trying to kill him (multiple times). He's scared because at this moment he's probably convinced he will forever be alone. He's tired and probably hungry. He's overwhelmed so he points the gun at Ando.

Now Taro is trying to stop him, but mostly because he still wants to avoid the bomb going off. (Or so it seems at least) The fact that Ando has to die is less of a question for Taro, he's still his target. It's just a question of when and by who I think. He, already, doesn't want Shin to kill someone in anger. And although we can't see his thoughts here, he probably also doesn't want Shin to be the one to kill Ando specifically.

Now. Important is also that Shin only actually shot because Ikari scared him.

He says himself, he didn't mean to. He really just wanted to force an apology out of Ando. And as a child, that grew up on his own around violence, the threat of violence was probably the most obvious answer to do so. And yet, he didn't actually want to shot. He's a child, he's scared. And because he's scared, he physically jolted when Ikari started shouting and pressed the trigger. It's all inhis eyes. He didn't expect the bullet to come out. He didn't want to do this.

Now. Well. Ando. We have a short insight in Andos mind. While Ikari is trying to attack Shin, before he jumps between them to save Shin.

He's thinking about spending 13 years to escape the JAA, all because he saved Shin as Al Kamaar as a baby, only for Shin to show up with a hitman and mess it all up. And it very much sounds like he still resents Shin for it. He even thinks that he shoul've let him die as a baby. (In the official manga plus translation. In another translation he evn thinks about killing Shin as a baby.) And well, he then saves Shin, only getting injured even more.

And this is all just contradicting itself. Andos words and thoughts and actions. He talks about saving Shin as a baby, but who put him in Al Kamaar in the first place? He saves him, but who tried to kill him a few minutes ago? Who let Shin be thrown overboard a few chapters ago? (And it's very likely that Ando did that in order for Shin to have a chance of survival, somehow.)

One moment he resents Shin, in the next his parental instincts seem to show through after all. (And has Ando figured out that Shin can read minds? He seems to be Intentionally thinking those words here. This could support the theory that Shins powers are actually born, andAsakuras potion just triggered them accidentally.)

All in all, I'm pretty sure that Ando might be mentally unstable. (I mean, who isn't in Sakamoto Days. And at one point Ando mentions being soft in the head, which is probably just a throw away line. But who knows.) His mind can't settle between an urge to protect and resent Shin. It was probably a moment of clarity, that made Ando drop Shin of at Asakuras lab. And even though they already didn't seam to have seen each other for a long time at that point, he seemed to know that Asakura would take care of Shin/protect him. Even when Asakura would complain about it. (He also talks about "What would Asakura think about this?" when Shin is pointing the gun at him. Which makes Shin angry. This seems to be directed at Shin, but it might as well be directed at himself. Because what would his old friend think about him trying to kill the child he left in hi ssafety all those years ago? Surely nothing good.)

Shin is rightfully upset about all of this, curling up in himself. Because Ando couldn't even say those words about Shin having grown so much out loud. Now. Taro reminds us though that there's still a bomb on the ship, that will explode the moment Ando dies. (Is it like linked to his heartbeat? What.) Telling Shin to keep him alive long enough for him to find and dissarm the bomb.

When Shin says he's going with him to help, because the engine bay is to big, Taro actually tells Shin to stay back and use the remaining time he got left with his dad. Which... well. In the end Taro seems to understand that Ando is still important to Shin in some way. It's an absolutely messy situation in so many ways. Also because, again, the only reason they meet was because it was Taros job to kill Ando. But he wants Shin to be able to at least say goodbye to Ando. (Something Taro couldn't when Rion died.) But Ando also knows that Taro probably won't be able to find the bomb, which would mean Shins death as well if the ship explodes. So, seemingly set on wanting Shin to live in the end he decides to tell Shin the bombs location. And to go with him, while he will hang on until he gets back.

Which he probably won't. I think he just doesn't want Shin to see the moment he dies. Not to forget that Taro would protect Shin if the bomb goes off after all. In the end, his parental instincts are trying to protect Shin. Both physically, and mentally. Even if it's way to late for that.

Well. I'm definitely crying. This is all a huge mess. Taro, please get your newly adopted son to therapy instead of teaching him how to be an assasin.

[harmless-variety-of-garden-snake]

God, is there really only 9 more days of February?? BuckTommy Fluffebruary Day Nineteen: Slow Dancing. The song that's playing is "(Today I Met) The Boy I'm Going to Marry" by Darlene Love (aka Mrs. Roger Murtaugh for you 80s and 90s kids who grew up on Lethal Weapon movies). Give it a listen for the ~ambience~ if you're so inclined. Also, check out her singing it live in 2017, she sounds exactly the same. What a queen. Anyway, you can read this on AO3 over here. Tagging @bucktommyfluffebruary

The party is a combination anniversary party and reception do-over for Maddie and Howie, and Tommy is happy to say that he’s not on-call this time around. He wears a suit instead of turnouts, and he arrives at the venue before the party starts instead of showing up too late. He's actually quite early, because the DJ had a tire blow out on the way and had to change it on the side of the road, the caterers were doubling back because half the food was left in their kitchen, and Evan had texted with increasing amounts of sad emojis. So Tommy got ready early to lend a hand if need be. Evan had already been on-site helping with set-up and Jee-Yun wrangling, so he’s somewhere at the venue but nowhere to be seen.

“Hey!” Maddie calls, waving to Tommy when she spots him. She’s wearing a white dress again, but it’s a little lighter and more billowy to accommodate her growing belly. She looks beautiful and glowing, and Tommy tells her as much when he greets her with a kiss to her cheek. “I feel like I’m going to sweat through this, but thank you. I did not miss pregnancy hot flashes.”

“Do you need me to see if they can turn the air conditioning up?” Tommy asks, rubbing her upper back and feeling that she is, indeed, a little warm.

“Oh, my god, could you?” she asks gratefully.

Tommy goes to someone who works at the venue—the coordinator, it turns out—and kindly asks if the air conditioning can be turned up just a little, emphasizing that it’s for a pregnant woman.

“I’ll see what I can do,” the coordinator says with a tight smile. “They don’t want to overload the power here.”

“We can turn off most of the lights until the party starts,” Evan suggests from over Tommy’s shoulder.

The coordinator goes to handle that, and Tommy turns to greet his boyfriend. His boyfriend, who is in grey tweed trousers with a matching vest, a crisp white shirt with the sleeves carefully rolled up, and a black tie with a cross-hatch pattern. His boyfriend, who already looks beautiful in ratty old clothes and with boils on his face, let alone in this. He's breathtaking.

“Jesus,” Tommy says, resting his hand on Evan’s side and drawing him closer even as he tries to memorize everything about how he looks. “You look beautiful.”

“You’re looking pretty handsome yourself,” Evan murmurs, his fingers smoothing over the subtle pinstriping on Tommy’s grey suit. “We match.”

“We do,” Tommy agrees before kissing him.

The lights dim around them, and Tommy hears a fan kick on overhead and the distant sound of Maddie saying, “Oh, thank God.”

He laughs against Evan’s mouth before pulling away. “Need help with anything?”

“The DJ just got here, the caterers are five minutes out, so we just gotta test the audio and make sure the bartender’s ready.” Evan’s thumb and forefinger are rubbing against the fabric of Tommy’s tie. “I like this.”

“Wanna switch?”

Evan laughs, but Tommy’s already flipping his collar up and loosening his tie. He unfastens the clip and hands the whole thing over to Evan, who loops it around his wrist before removing his own tie and handing it to Tommy.

“You two are ridiculous, please stop stripping at my party,” Howie says as he passes by with his daughter on his shoulders. “Can you check with the DJ? We’re on our way to get this one and Mommy some juice at the bar.”

“You got it,” Tommy says, tightening his borrowed tie. “So?”

“Perfect,” Evan decides, kissing him again before tangling his fingers together and leading him toward the corner where the DJ looks to be plugging in the last of his stuff.

They pass Margaret, Phillip, the Lees, and Maddie on the way, and Tommy waves to them. They get a wave back from everyone but the Buckley parents, but he does get a smile and nod. It’s more than he would’ve expected, considering they’ve only met once at the previous “reception” a year before, and Tommy had been half-asleep with a plate of cake in his lap. They hadn't come back to California except for Christmas, which Tommy had missed because he was too busy being a single idiot. His opinion of them isn’t very high, he’s not surprised if it goes both ways.

“Might get loud!” Tommy warns over his shoulder.

“Nah, levels should be good already,” the DJ says, poking at his laptop. “I’ll check it now, though. You want music playing when people get here, right?”

“Yeah,” Evan says, peering over the guy’s shoulder. “And then their first dance song—”

“‘Islands in the Stream,’” the DJ confirms, and Evan nods. “Got it ready to go, just let me know when to queue it. Alright, firing it up.”

He hits something on the small mixer and loud surf music starts playing over the speakers.

“Sorry, I was playing a tiki bar party before this,” the DJ says, clicking a few things until a Beach Boys song starts playing. “Can you guys do me a favor and walk around, make sure it all sounds good? They did some late playlist requests, so I'm just adding all that in.”

“Yep,” Tommy says, tugging Evan away. “You go left, I’ll go right, we'll meet in the middle and come up through the dancefloor.”

“I love when you get tactical,” Evan sighs, kissing his hand before splitting off from him.

Tommy shakes his head and smiles as he walks around the edge of the space. It’s not huge, but it’s big enough to have a few speakers in carefully hidden spots. Everything sounds good, there’s no dead speakers or audio crackling or buzzing. When they meet in the back, they start walking toward the dancefloor just as the song changes, and Tommy glances over at Evan just as the first line filters through the speakers.

‘Today I met the boy I’m going to marry,’ Darlene Love croons.

“Hey,” Tommy says, resting a hand against Evan’s lower back. “The dancefloor’s kind of the most important area. We should check the whole thing.”

Evan looks over his shoulder at him, sees Tommy offer up his other hand, and his smile lights the whole room back up. He takes it and lets Tommy pull him close, his other hand resting on Tommy’s shoulder as Tommy’s settles on his waist.

“Do you know this song?” Tommy asks, and Evan shakes his head, his eyes soft as they meet Tommy’s. “It’s a classic. My aunt Judy—my dad’s big sister—used to play a record that had this on it.”

‘The boy whose life and dream and love I wanna share,’ she continues as Evan grins at him sunnily.

Tommy tries to lead them around as much of the dancefloor as possible, but he’s too caught up in Evan’s smile and his eyes and the way their hands and bodies fit together. As far as he can tell, the audio sounds perfect. Everything is…perfect.

“I hadn’t heard it in a really long time,” Tommy says softly. “And then I turned on the radio in my truck one day, and I heard it on an oldies station for the first time in, I don’t know, thirty years?”

“Bet it brought back some good memories,” Evan says, squeezing his shoulder gently.

“Yeah, it did,” Tommy agrees. “It was a pretty good day, actually. I’d just survived flying into a hurricane with these completely insane people from another firehouse.”

Evan’s lips part, and his eyes search Tommy’s. “Y-yeah?”

“Mhm,” he confirms. At the time, he hadn’t thought much of it, but now it feels like one of those things. Like a sign, a hint, an anvil to the head for him to pay attention.

‘With every kiss, ‘Oh, this is it,’ my heart keeps saying,’ she sings, and Tommy mouths the words to himself, smiling when Evan’s awed expression melts into a sweet smile as he ducks his head briefly. It’s one of his favorite things Evan does, like he’s shy about being happy, about having the most beautiful smile anyone’s ever seen.

“I think the first song I heard after that was a Motorhead song that Chimney played in his car on the way back to the station,” Evan admits, and Tommy laughs. “I like yours better.”

“Me, too,” Tommy says, pressing their temples together and inhaling the smell of him. He loves the way Evan’s cologne, shampoo, and deodorant mix together, because they smell like clean and water. He’s smelled like it ever since the day Tommy kissed him in his kitchen. Well, he probably smelled like it before, but it had been the first time Tommy had been in a position to notice. “You think we hit where all the speakers are?”

“Probably,” Evan says, turning his face just a bit so the tip of his nose brushes over Tommy’s cheek. “But we should wait until the end of the song just in case.”

Tommy hums in agreement and smiles when Evan’s lips ghost over his skin. He lifts his gaze to see Maddie pointing her phone at them, and she gives him a teary smile and a thumbs up when he catches her eye. Beside her, her mother is looking at them thoughtfully with something close to a smile on her face.

As the song fades out, Tommy carefully spins Evan and pulls him back against his chest with a smile, kissing his answering smile and nuzzling his nose against Evan’s.

“All good,” Evan calls to the DJ.

Later, when the party is in full swing, Tommy goes to ask the DJ if he can queue up Maddie and Howie’s song to play next, and he gets a business card slipped to him.

“I do regular wedding receptions, too,” the DJ, Todd, explains.

Tommy laughs. “Oh, we’re not—”

“Well, if you do,” he says, shrugging. “Do you want me to call them to the floor before I play it?”

“Uh, yeah,” Tommy says, looking down at the card and turning it over between his fingers. “Yeah, thanks.”

He pockets the card. Just in case.

[m0e-ru]

What do you think is the one thing adachi hates the most about the protagonist?

I mean, it’s quite clearly shown (even moreso in Golden and installments after that) that Adachi’s really frustrated with bancho with how he sees each other as one and the same, yet so different at the same time. Well, how they ended up differently despite working on similar foundation.

more under cut bcoz guess who wrote an analysis !!! and the suggestion box is still open feel free to add more complaints and asks and call up our landline for nonsense i will gratefully listen to

Let me get this straight, Adachi would not have hated bancho or cared at all about him if not for how they’re associated with one another. For bancho, it kind of sucks that someone is one sidedly beefing so hard with you, for the sole reason you ended up in a better place compared to that one guy. Adachi’s hatred and frustrations were all a matter of coincidence, which makes you feel bad for bancho when he does get this treatment from Adachi (albeit Adachi’s reasonable enough not to say it out loud, but his inner monologue teems with a sort of envy for this poor boy, and how it slips out in his actions and tone sometimes in a passive aggressive manner.)

Despite all that, Adachi still cares about bancho as a senior of sorts; a man who’s older. Bringing back the idea that he thinks of bancho as a different reflection of himself, Adachi just wants to set bancho on the right path, even if it means making Adachi himself look bad.

Adachi’s just been projecting on bancho the whole time. When we take the manga’s bancho, Souji, we can see more clearly how Souji was also much more similar to Adachi in some ways.

Souji distanced himself from others. This doesn’t stem from any digust from other people, but rather, he does it in consideration of the other party. He’s going to transfer out of schools soon, and he’s had experiences of disappointing people he made friends with because their bond couldn’t mature. Thus, Souji has grown an antisocial behavior to keep people at bay, at the expense of his own growth and happiness he could’ve had if he stayed with these people.

Adachi can see Souji’s growth from the fact they “grew up together”, in a sense. They both started living in Inaba at the same period of time, are associated with the same handful of people, and started off at the start of the same path (in a way).

Adachi’s older, clearly, so his beliefs and instincts have been honed and cemented in place, compared to someone as young as Souji.

Speaking of coincidences, Sdachi’s just sick of the same people’s treatment towards Souji compared to himself as time went on. Dojima might see Adachi as an incompetent subordinate, but still takes good care of and praises Souji. Nanako could’ve trusted Adachi more as a secondary responsible adult figure next to her dad, but she clings onto Souji more as he comes around.

Adachi was so lonely and dwelled on the more negative things in his life, rather than taking the time to think about how nice it is without the pessimism or even backhanded compliments he makes about Inaba. He doesn’t see or remember how Dojima also does care about him and praises him genuinely on the occassion, being clouded by all the yelling and hitting on the head. Adachi forgets Nanako was grateful for his help with her homework, and how he even does his best to cheer her up when looks down (especially when it’s his fault lol)

But with bancho, he’s just sick of him. He’s too busy putting a mirror frame inbetween them, self-projecting, and hating how well off bancho’s going on with his life.

“Why couldn’t that be me?” he could ask himself. He finds himself in twisted ecastacy in the accomplice ending, for the reason that he’s crashing down with bancho himself. Adachi can now see the boy rot the same way he did, and things will be as they’re supposed to be: They’re one and the same, after all.

All these things happening to bancho was because of his efforts to open himself up to people, and remember that he’s loved and does his best to reciprocate.

It’s unfortunate for Adachi because hes a whole decade older than bancho and we only see him getting a similar treatment, a chance to foster bonds and friendships, so much later. He can’t adapt to it as quickly as bancho did, because of the status of himself, and the status of the environment around him.

As such, Adachi’s character and place in the story well defines the themes of bonds overall. Humans are social creatures, it’s truly impossible to be alone. We see these two different outcomes in bancho and Adachi. If you let yourself open up and have the sun shine on your face, the world can seem brighter and you’ll be happier with people you love and who love you. Or, you can continue to hide in the dark and decay, to the point you’ve rotted so much you believe you can’t even go outside, despite all the hands that reach out to you you’re too scared to take. Thus, you shun them and hide deeper into the dark if anything else goes wrong.

Personally, growing up and maturing myself, you just feel bad for Adachi. Back then, i couldnt understand bancho’s immense well of patience and kindness and consideration for others, that he even included Adachi. Only to realize i was in Adachi’s place the whole time. To see a man so utterly depressed, and how he’s done nothing about it and just let himself get all moldy inside. But you have to cut him some slack, because there most likely weren’t any angels around him with that same well of patience and kindness as someone like bancho, someone he met much later in life.

And, how at the time, consultation and/or medication at the time was stigmatized—and the state of the time he was born and grew up in.

im not sure if it’s an honor to say that god chose him to be its prophet and usher in the New World. To see him as an avatar or representative of the people that feel the same, or understand the fact that a majority of the people of Inaba share a collective belief in this manner.

[anomaliex]

I think Gorgug grows up trying to take up as little space as possible.

I think that as a child, before he was all that conscious of his own decisions, he broke a lot of stuff. That's fine, small children do that and his parents have had him since he was a baby. A huge baby, especially for gnomes. A huge baby that grew into a toddler the size of his parents who's (again, normal and okay) tantrums did actual property damage because he's an orc. They were never mad at him for it, they'd never be mad at a child experiencing big emotions and not yet able to process them or understand consequences, but we know how their families reacted to that. We know that they always saw him as something that would grow up to be a threat.

I think that pretty much as soon as he develops a sense of it Gorgug starts feeling ashamed. He's ashamed of how nothing ever fits right, and of how loud he gets when he's upset, and of how the other kids in the neighbourhood (because it's a small folk neighbourhood!!) get scared of him sometimes, and of how when he has bad dreams he breaks his bed and is unable to control himself, like a baby. There was probably a time where he thought he was really clumsy and he was ashamed of that too, but by the time he turns like twelve Gorgug kind of understands that he's not more clumsy than the average kid, it's just that every time he drops something or bumps into a shelf it'll do so much more damage than if anyone else he lives around were to do the same.

(And his parents are talented tinkerers but sometimes their work is so delicate and all he ever does is wreck things. He doesn't dare touch it no matter how much they try to share this passion with him — eventually they assume he just doesn't like it and they would never force him to do something he doesn't want. Gorgug doesn't let himself discover how much he enjoys it until sophomore year. I wonder if he regrets all those years he spent fearing the possibility of ruining things and depriving himself of something he ended up loving.)

(And he was never "stupid", it's just that all he ever thought himself of was a brute so he never entertained the possibility of his own intelligence until faced with it. He didn't know he could thrive academically so it wasn't something he ever considered committing to. He literally just played bloodrush because he was good at it, not because he liked it. He just thought he had to, and he thought math is something he couldn't possibly do. Why try?)

Entering Highschool Gorgug is very shy, and he doesn't really have friends. Adults always like to blame the latter on the first, but sometimes it's the other way around and sometimes it's a vicious cycle. Sometimes you're six years old and none of the kids in your elementary school class are anything like you but you desperately try to fit in until you slip up and show them how much of a freak you are one time (I think he got mad. I think he broke a table. I think someone cried. I think maybe there was a teacher who was so much smaller than him and looked at him as if he were something to be feared. I think that in that moment he decided that he is. Or at least his rage, maybe.) and then you never get to have friends again and you shrink in on yourself and you don't understand how anyone else does it — it's not even that you're scared you just don't understand, and maybe you just want to be alone. And then a happy outspoken child grows into a shy teenager because they don't have any friends.

I think Gorgug is careful. He is so gentle and empathetic and kind and he is so careful because every time he isn't something breaks. And every time he raises his voice someone is scared of him and all he ever wants is people to not be afraid. So he hunches over, and he stands in the corner, and he scoots to the very edge of the bench so you don't have to sit too close to him, and he takes every insult to his face without fighting back lest he'll get upset and despite all his fucking efforts all it takes is one asshole to take it too far and he feels himself snap and all he wants to do is break something and hurt and twist and kill. And that scares him. He doesn't allow himself to be angry (and as wonderful as Digby and Wilma are they don't understand. They don't understand that he has to be, that he has to let it out some time.) so he bottles it up and every time it explodes out of him he doesn't know how to handle it other than to swing his axe and kill maul bite snarl kill.

But then, his adventuring party seems to not mind his rage, or his size, or his freakish strength. If anything they seem to like it, or at least respect him for it. He's never considered doing something like music before because that's for talented people and it's art and he doesn't do art because his hands are only good for destruction, not creation. Right? He does the music anyway. It's nice because there he's allowed to be angry on the drums and no one thinks it's weird.

He meets a girl that finds his rage attractive and he was scared that he'd scared her but he didn't. Ragh becomes one of his dearest friends and maybe for the first time Gorgug looks at a raging (half-)orc — all snarling and panting and bearing his teeth and twitching at any sound or scent — and doesn't find himself appalled because all he sees is someone that's fighting to keep him and his friends safe. And oh, maybe it's okay to be enraged.

I think he grows into a young man that doesn't love being angry but stops hating it too. He likes, in a way, that he gets angry over the right things, and he likes that being angry enables him to protect those he cares for. In the end his rage is a survival instinct and it's good to be alive. That leads to him, for a while, only accepting his rage as something that's fine to express in combat, and if it's outside of combat then only to his friends. There's still this need to make himself palatable, to tone himself down so everyone stays comfortable around him, but that also fades eventually.

During junior year he does finally come out of his shell enough to just express his anger the second he feels it. I think it is liberating and it's also the scariest thing he's ever done, and he went through a forest that made him confront his deepest fears already. (And that's exactly what it was. The inconvenience to his parents, the fear it strikes in others, the rejection it brings, the way it seems to reduce him to a weapon or maybe a wild animal and to some people including parts of him means he absolutely cannot be an intelligent or loveworthy person. He's always been afraid of his own rage.)

I think that if a younger Gorgug could see his older self snarl at one of his friends for making a joke about his parents' lawnmower, with his tusks fully grown out and muscle finally starting to fill out his clothes a little, so strong and so dangerous and so unashamed of it, he'd feel no relief and only horror. I think acceptance is something that feels alien to him right up until he suddenly achieves it.

[xeversayfishxace]

"Hahahahahahahahahahahahaha...oh my god...you are so far up your own butt I am surprised you know how to breathe. Yes, it is all given to you! Everything is given to you! You never earned anything! Sure, you might have had to work, train, mold your body into the shape you once had. But, you had a safe place to sleep, warm food in your belly, a roof over your head! But, no that stuff never mattered to me."

Xever stopped with that tactic since well, it was basically Raz's tactic from way back then. Meaning it was stupid and petty! Xever only used it so much to give Raz a taste of his own words. That tended to be what the pair always did to one another. Throw the same tricks and tactics back and forth with little care over and over. Unlike Bebop and Rocksteady these two loathed one another. They hated each other, on a level that likely grew worse and worse as time went on.

"You were the one who gave a crap about that stupid class bullshit! Always going on and on about me being a street rat and having nothing. How I didn't deserve to be there, when I had no choice but to say yes otherwise I would be left in jail! You were the one pushing me away right from the start! I was snide I laughed at you, but that was because you were such a joke of a person. How the hell could anyone ever take you seriously? You might dress it up with all your masks, but deep down what you are Bradford is a total loser."

Xever had only ever needed to take one look at the man to know what he was. Or at the least an idea of what kind of man he was. Xever had been in this world for a longtime doing many things to survive. He never reflected on what he had only what he could gain. So upon seeing a man who never had to consider that it was annoying.

"You wanna know something? Back then, I didn't care what you thought of me. This was just a job, I was willing to be professional about it all even if you weren't. I never said squat about you to the boss, I acted like a grownup while you threw tantrums like a kid. You were the one going against orders, you were the one pushing buttons and rocking the boat. If our roles were reversed and I hated you as much as you hated me I would have kept my mouth shut. Because a man doesn't complain he gets the job done! People work with others they hate on a daily basis the whole world is like that!"

"So when that day came and you did what you did. I thought really? This is it? This is how I die? All because of this stupid bastard?! A guy with such an inferiority complex that he can't take that someone with even a shred of tact is better than him? You would have killed me that day if no one had been there to help. I would have suffocated right there! Right on the streets of this cursed city all because of you! Your actions would have killed me Chris Bradford!"

Xever pulled Raz's head closer with his ear before then wrapping his tail around the dog's neck trying to strangle him as best he could.

The wolf smirks. Amusing, was it upsetting him?

“You already told me before what it is about. The truth is? I don’t care. I get to punch you into the dirt for once, that’s all that matters. You wanted this fight for what you had to go through because of me, but, if you want me to be completely honest with you? It served you right. Is this the truth you wanted?"

Because everything else he refuses to give.

A surprised yelp the moment his ear was pulled. On hindsight, leaning down his head? Bad idea.

It would be so, so easy to just shake him off in some way with their current position. But he also did not want to free Xever out of his grip just yet. His grip only tightens.

“You were going easy on me? Don’t make me laugh.”

Rahzar scoffs. As if that was even possible for him. Still. there was a light snarl. Everything given to him? His parents throwing their money at him? Bad choice of words - but he controls it. No point in losing his temper and give the street rat that kind of satisfaction.

Deep breath.

It's what he wants. Maybe if the fish didn't made that obvious it would have been easier to kick down these walls around him. This only made him want to bite back harder - and push away further. An oversized ego he may have, but it comes with a lot of self hatred that nobody knows about. Masking his true feelings is all he has ever known and in the careers he worked in, something like that is of great importance.

Still, at the taunting, Rahzar used his other hand and his claws traced ever so gently along the cable of the breathing device. He has no intention of breaking it, though.

"Go on. Care to repeat the whole everything given to me? I advise you to chose your next words very carefully."

[bibiana112]

Girl are you okay? Cause you've been looking through the "My lesbian experience with loneliness" tag again

Well the short answer is no :D

[gor3sigil]

Before starting T, when I socially transitionned, I was surrounded by radical feminists who saw masculinity as gross and inherently evil, something to avoid, something to make fun of, something to destroy. The other transmascs in my friend group, sometimes, told me that they didn’t knew if they really were non-binary or if they just were scared shitless of saying “I am a man”. Because they saw this as a betrayal to their younger self who had been SAd and abused.

I saw many of my masc friends and trans men around me hate themselves, not outing themselves as men because it would imply so so much, it was like opening the Pandora Box. Even when we were just together, talking about our masculinity was always coated with bits like “I know we’re the privileged ones but…”, “I don’t want to sound like I have it bad but…”, “Women obviously have it worse, but last time…” and we were talking about terrible traumas we experienced while taking all the precautions in the world in the case the walls were a crowd of people in disguise waiting to get us if we didn’t downplay the violence we faced, or like crying and being upset and being traumatized and afraid and scared and to say it out loud would make us throw up the needles we were forced to swallow every second of every day living in our skin.

Most of us weren’t on T yet, some of us were catcalled every day and harassed in the streets or in abusive relationships nobody seemed to care to help them get out of because they were “strong enough” to do it by themselves.

I was using the gender swap face app and cried for ours when I saw my father looking back at me through the screen. The idea of transforming, of shedding into a body that would deprive me of love, tenderness, and safety, was absolutely terrifying. I knew I couldn’t stay in this body any longer because it wasn’t mine, but I also knew that if I was going to look like my dad, my brother, my abusers, it would be so much worse.

5 years later and I’m almost 2 years on T, and almost 2 months post top surgery.

I ditched my previous group of friends. I was bullied out of my local trans community. But let me tell you how free I am.

I was scared that T would break my singing voice: it made it sound more alive than ever.

I was scared that T would make me less attractive: it made me find myself hot for the first time in my life.

I was scared that T would make me gain weight: it did. But the weight I put on is not the weight I used to put on by binging and eating my body until I forgot that it even existed. It’s the weight of my body belonging to me, little by little. The wolf hunger for life.

I won’t tell you the same story I see everywhere, the one that goes “I started going to the gym 8 times a week, I put on some muscles, I started a diet and now I look like an action film actor”, in fact if you took pictures of me from 5 years ago vs now I’d just have more acne, I’d have longer hair and still look like I don’t know what to do with myself when I take selfies.

But the sparkle in my eyes, my smile, tell the whole story way better than this long ass stream of words could ever.

I want to say some things that I wish someone told me before starting medically transitionning.

It’s okay to take your time. It’s your body, it’s your journey, if you don’t feel comfortable taking full doses and want to go slow, the only voice you need to listen to is your own. Do what feels right.

If you feel overwhelmed, it’s okay to take a break, it’s okay to ask for support.

Trans people are holy. Everyone is. You didn’t lose your angel wings when you came out because you want to be masculine. You are not excluded from the joy of existence, from being proud of yourself, from being sad, from being scared, from being angry. The emotions and feelings you allowed yourself to feel while processing what you experienced when you grew up as a girl and was seen as a woman are still as valid as before. Nobody can take that from you. If someone tries to, don’t let them.

It’s perfectly normal to grieve some things you were and had before you started to transition, like your high soprano voice or even your chest. Hatching is painful. You can find comfort in things that don’t feel right, so making the decision to change can be incredibly scary and weird and you deserve to be heard and supported through this. Wanting top surgery doesn’t make the surgery less intense, less terrifying, less painful to recover from. When it becomes too much you have the right to take a break and take some deep breaths before going on.

You don’t have to have a radical, 180° change for your transition to be acceptable or valid or worthy of praise. Look at how far you’ve come already. It doesn’t have to show, you’re not made to be a spectacle, you’re human and it is your journey.

Oh, and last thing, you know when some people say “Oh this trans person has to grow out of the cringy phase where you think that you can write essays about being trans or transitionning or just their experience because it’s weird” ? If you ever hear this or see this online, remember all the people whose writing you read and, even if they were not professional writers, helped you more than any theorists did ? If you want to write, do it. It won’t be a waste. It can help people. Or it won’t, and even then, if it helped you, that’s enough.

Love every of my trans siblings, take care of yourselves. You deserve the world.

[inkskinned]

no, actually, where is the whimsy?

my ex had a best friend named larry who asked me once: what do you think comes after irony?

we were at the bar where larry worked. it was a quiet night, and he'd hopped over to sit with us on the patron side. i swirled the lemon around my limoncello martini.

earnest positivity, i said, while my ex said, art self-destructs.

i stared at my ex. he stared at me.

his argument was the cinemasins argument: look how bad media is becoming! look at the loopholes and the dumb shit!

it was roughly 2011. galaxy print was still in. at the time, i had a favorite shirt that was a wolf howling at the moon. it got ripped in half in the wash and i honestly still mourn it. i dressed like effie stonem, because everyone did. and irony was the name of the thing. men liked MLP "ironically." the internet liked the kind of crass, "anti-mainstream" vibes of things like fuck romance, touch my butt and buy me pizza. we put cats in sunglasses everywhere, which was because we only liked things in irony.

and media had the same vibe in it: anti-hero white men would be "hard to love" and then storm off the scene. nobody was just earnestly trying to save the world: they were jaded, angry, unoriginal. mad you even asked them to try to help.

my ex ends up not being wrong. cinemasins becomes super popular. a lot of people start viewing media with this lens that is the cruelest, most jaded depiction. it's wrong for your character to have unexplained powers, even if the entire movie is about how strange it is she has unexplained powers - that is still considered a "loophole." characters make thoughtless, panicked choices? loophole. characters are actually kind people, despite hardship? loophole. features a woman doing literally anything without assistance? loophole. movies become hyper-aware of scrutiny, and now irony rules the media.

which means you go to a movie, and the character has to turn to the screen and say "beats me!!" or one of the side characters has to have some kind of quip like "are you seriously telling me that you think this is normal?" because nothing can happen in earnest. like a sitcom laugh track, we now anticipate the fourth-wall break: the moment that the media acknowledges it is telling a story. the media has to apologize for itself, or else someone like my ex rolls their eyes.

but here's the thing: i wasn't wrong either.

the difference might be that i am (and always have been) so soft-hearted that any crack in the light of this world will spear me into the ground. and i was the poet in the relationship. (he thought that was the same thing as being naïve and stupid). i was making things daily. i knew how all of us artists are driven by some strange desire to evolve. he notably liked to critique art, not to create it.

so yes, i've made things that are bitter and angry and even ironic. i've made long, sharp poems with all capital letters, and i've made poems about how the silence stretches out like a song. someone wrote once that we will spend our whole lives just circling the place we grew up. i think it's more that we spend our whole lives trying to remake a home. i think it's that as we age, it becomes less exciting to build the castle on the beach - we become aware of erosion, of windforce. we realize what we really want is to come home to our dog, castle or not.

and while art in the foreground is mired in white male violence and irony, and aggression, and not taking anything seriously - i don't think that's true of all art. i think more and more artists are leaning in to the things we love. the world has changed so much. they have taken so many things from us. the only thing we have left is love. at the bottom of the moving box - all we get is the faint sense that we have to appreciate what little we've got. i can't enjoy this stuff ironically anymore: what room do i have for irony? if it makes me happy, that is an amazing thing. there are so few happy places left for me. i want to be happy because of how leaves shiver beside each other like nestling birds. i want to be happy because of the color pink, and how magenta doesn't exist. i have spent so much of this life suffering, i have earned my right to a gentle ending. if nothing matters, i get to assign meaning to the nothing. i get to create meaning. i am an artist first and foremost, which means creation is my thing.

where is the whimsy? wherever i fucking put it. because if this is my last fucking chance to do any good in this world - i want to do it earnestly. i want to write things that make you happy. that make people feel heard and seen. what comes after irony has to be positivity.

it was close to my 21st birthday. in 7 years, i would end up writing a book about this relationship, which is hopefully coming out somewhere around May 2024. i come back to this bar scene in my memories a lot. i keep thinking of how pale my ex was. the look that crossed his face. how i looked back at him. how for a moment, both of us couldn't recognize the other person. like the gulf between us was a suddenly wide and cavernous thing. like we were alien to each other. he never took my opinion seriously, and he always seemed surprised whenever his manic-pixie-dream-girl ever broke free of the plot. like in the whole time we were together, i wasn't human enough.

this knowledge: where he said nothing comes after, my only instinct was what comes after is love.

[thebestsetter]

Would you fall in love with me again?

• Synopsis: he knew football changed him. That's why he couldn't help but be scared. Would you still love him the same?

• Characters: Kunigami Rensuke (post Wild Card), Sae Itoshi, Michael Kaiser

• TW: Kaiser had an episode, the f word like one time

• A/N: EPIC consumed my mind.

𝕂𝕦𝕟𝕚𝕘𝕒𝕞𝕚 ℝ𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕦𝕜𝕖

He was different.

That was the first thing you noticed when Kunigami Rensuke, your boyfriend, knocked at your door on a random wednesday after disappearing for 7 months to go to some "Blue Lock" project.

"Is it really you?" You asked, voice dripping with doubt and love at the same time. Your knuckles were white from how strong your hold on the door was "Or am I dreaming once again?"

"I am not the man you feel in love with" he said, his deep voice wavering, not even giving you a proper 'Hello, how are you?' after so long "I am not your calm and gentle boyfriend. I've changed. For good"

You stayed silent, though it was not by choice. You were just so, so overwhelmed by emotions that it seemed like you had forgotten how to speak. Your tongue felt heavy inside your mouth, and your eyes were wide, unmoving, despite the tears threatning to spill from them, almost as if if you blinked, Kunigami, your house and everything else around you would disappear, and this would be nothing more than one of the countless dreams you had with him.

"Kuni" you started, getting closer. Your hand perfectly cupped his cheeks, as if it was meant to be there, and he instantly leaned in, almost like it was second nature. You caressed the dark circles under his eyes, and you were sure you had similar ones from the nights spent locked in your room, crying and missing him "What kind of things did you do?"

"I gave up on my hero ideology" he lifted one of his hands and put it right above yours, still on his cheeks "As I destroyed friends and teammates like they were objects I could use" he closed his eyes, basking in your warmth. Gently, he kissed the inner part of your wrist and sighed in relief, almost as if he was still convincing himself that you were, indeed, very real "And I am not the love you once knew"

The tears that were in your eyes finally fell. You could feel his hands trembling - if you were feeling scared, he was terrified. Terrified that you would reject him. Terrified to be cast away from your life. Terrified of who he became.

"Well, if that's true" you swallowed hard, blinking as more tears kept coming "Could you do me a favour? Just a moment of labour, I swear. Could you please pick up that flower over there?" You pointed to a Baby's breath, neatly arranged at the floor, beside the door "I think it's whitering. Could you carry it over? Take it far away from here, please"

Rensuke eyes suddenly shot opened, his own tears starting to appear

"How could you say this?" His voice got patheticay loud, and he despised himself for crying in front of you, but it couldn't be helped. What you asked him was ridiculous "I helped you plant that baby's breath on our first date. It's a simbol of everlasting love - our everlasting love." His voice grew louder, more desperate, like he was talking to someone kilometers away from him "I can't do that, you know it. The only way to move it is to cut it from it's roots."

You couldn't help but smile. You grabbed his free hand with your own one, looking directly at his eyes. It was like the world around you both had stopped, and even the birds' singing and cars noises ceased. You could only hear Kunigami's frantic breath in contrast to your calm one.

"Well, only my boyfriend knew when that flower was planted" you smiled, getting closer to him. You rested your forehead in his, closing your eyes. He followed your actions, sighing "So I guess that makes him you"

You pointed to his chest, right where his heart should be

"Don't tell me you're not the same person. It's still you, right here. And you know I've been waiting for you"

He opened his eyes, staring right at yours as both of you cried, ugly sobs coming from your mouths.

He was still your boyfriend, after all. Your lovely, amazing boyfriend who you loved so much it hurt.

And when he finally kissed you after months, trying to convey a love so raw and genuine through his actions, everything seemed to fall back into place again.

𝕊𝕒𝕖 𝕀𝕥𝕠𝕤𝕙𝕚

5 years.

That's how long you waited for Sae Itoshi to come back from Spain. To come back to Japan. To come back to you.

5 years of rejecting suitors. 5 years of dreaming of him every night. 5 years of suffering, yearning for your boyfriend who was all the way across the globe.

That's why, when he finally comes home looking even worse than you, you were not surprised.

"Are my eyes decieving me?" You smiled lightly, your nose already feeling stuffed - you knew you were about to cry

He muttered your name dreamily, staring at you intensely.

He's not sure how, but he managed to find the strength to smile your way. God, how long has it been since the last time he smiled? And yet, just by being next to you, he felt his lips stretching up.

Something was strange, though. You knew him. You knew Sae Itoshi, the boy who dreamed big and who you fell in love with. You knew him.

"Your eyes look tired" you frowned, getting closer and closer until your your knees were practically touching"Your smile's torn. You're different, Sae"

His smile fell, and you almost regretted what you had said. He grabbed your hands and caressed them with his thumbs, avoiding your gaze - something uncharacteristic of him

"Would you fall in love with me again?" He asked, sighing. His eyes finally met your gaze, and you could see the sadness in them - almost as if he was a young Atlas, carrying the weight of the whole world on his shoulders. You wish you could help somehow, ease his burden, but it was clear you couldn't "If you knew all I've done. The things I can not change."

His eyes sparkled, and Sae Itoshi never cried, but you swore you saw them getting a bit glossy. You didn't know what he was talking about, but he clearly had a fight with someone - probably a teammate or something.

"And I know you've been waiting for me" Sae continued, not giving you a chance to answer "But I am not the love you knew before. I am not the man you adored. I'm no longer him" he let go of your hands, staring right at you like he could read your soul - even though you knew if he could, he wouldn't understand a single thing. You weren't understanding your own thoughts. How could he?

"So tell me, Amor" he said, his spanish pronunciation way better than you remembered it to be "Would you fall in love with me again?"

A gentle silence settled between you, which was strange. You've dreamed for so long about what you'd say to him once you saw him again, and yet when you saw him you were completely at a loss of words.

Sae took your silence as an answer. He began to walk away, head hung low and hands on his pockets.

He knew this would happen. He knew it. He was not that Sae Itoshi. He was not even human. He was a machine, made for playing soccer. He knew you wouldn't accept him.

He knew it. Yet it didn't hurt any less when he grabbed his travel bag and started distancing himself from you

"I..." he heard you saying, and even though he tried not to, he stopped. He needed to hear your answer. His brain and heart needed closure.

He could practically hear the gears on your head turning, trying to find the right words to convey your feelings

"I will fall in love with you over and over again" you answered, voice steady "Doesn't matter how long it's been, Sae, I will always love you. I've waited for you. And I will always wait for you. You're mine, Sae. And I'm yours. That's something no amount of time or distance is ever going to change"

A gentle silence settled between you both once again, as you stared at eachother's eyes. The 10 meters that separated you both suddenly felt like 10 kilometers.

The snow felt like quicksand while Sae made his way to you, first taking hesitant steps, and then almost running to get to you.

And when he hugged you and you fit perfectly into the crook of his shoulder, you knew you'd be alright.

You were not going to give up on each other. No matter how hard things were.

You both then kissed each other, sealing that silent promise.

𝕄𝕚𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕖𝕝 𝕂𝕒𝕚𝕤𝕖𝕣

Kaiser has always been a hard person to deal with, but he's been way worse after the Neo Egoist League.

He was screaming at the smallest inconveniences, spent days without even sparing you a glance, trained till he passed out from exhaustion and was making even more snarky remarks, if it was even possible. He was not fine, and you knew that. You knew him.

Your suspicions were confirmed during one of his episodes.

Kaiser usually had some episodes while remembering his childhood trauma, and he always confided in you to help him overcome them.

You were proud of this arrangement, actually: trust has always been what held your relationship together.

That's why you couldn't make sense as to why he was hiding from you during one of the worsts - if not the worst - episodes you've ever seen him had.

"Micha?" You asked, finding him curled up in the corner of your shared closet "Are you okay?"

"Don't come near me" He whispered. His eyes were red from crying, and you could swear you saw a purple bruise on his neck. Why didn't he call you?

"Okay" your voice was gentle, as if you were soothing a kid "Okay. I won't come closer. But I'm right here. Just focus on my breath, my love. Can you follow it for me, please?" You began breathing louder, hoping he'd follow your lead

Sadly, he began shaking his head, breathing growing even more frantic

"I-I can't" he muttered, shaking like a leaf

"Of course you can" you whispered "C'mon, breath in" you breathed in and held for a while "breath out" you repeated. Finally, he followed your commands

Luckily, after a while, his breath began to come back to normal, and you pondered just what was going through his head to make him act like that.

"Can I come closer now?" You asked, voice still gentle. When he nodded, you wasted no time in sitting right next to him, still not touching his body

Silence was loud between you too, and you wondered if he was even going to speak something about it

"W..." he began, voice breaking. He then took a deep breath, preparing himself for what he was about to say "Would you fall in love with me again... if I lost all I had?" He asked. He gave you no time to think begore he continued "Would you have fallen in love with me if I was just a little kid with a fucked up, drunk dad? If I had no money, name or fame?" He looked at you, staring at your eyes like he would forget them the moment he looked elsewhere "Would you?"

Once again, silence enveloped the room.

"Forget it" he muttered, starting to get up "It was a stupid question"

He was almost standing when you put your hands on his knee, earning a confused "huh?" from him.

Just like he did earlier, you took a deep breath

"Michael, I don't care how, where, or when. You're mine. I love you for you. I don't care for your name, your value or your football abilities. I don't want to see Michael Kaiser, the emperor. I want to see Michael Kaiser, my boyfriend." You also got up, slowly reaching for his hands, like you were asking for permission. "I love you, Kaiser"

He tried really hard not to cry again. You could see it. The way he contorted his face before letting the tears fall freely.

One after the other, he began crying hard. Sobbing and hiccuping and all. He would never cry in front of anyone. Others would never see this version of him. But you would.

In a swift moment, you hugged him, feeling his arms hold you stronger as his cries got louder, uglier.

Strangely, he wasn't embarrassed. He was relieved.

Relieved he could be vulnerable in front of you. Relieved he could be himself.

He couldn't hide anything from you, could he? Well, he hoped he could at least hide that ring in his socks drawer.

But not for much longer, though. After what happened, he'll wife you up was soon as possible.

But for now, only the feeling of your arms grounding him was enough.

Masterlist

[whorelaud]

꒦꒷ ﹏ possessive ¡

summary rafe only realizing he's head over heels for you after you give up on getting him to like you, and move on to someone else. jealousy overrules his resist to give you space, eventually confronting you about the situation.

contains jealousy, slight angst, confessions, hurt/comfort, fluff!! wc; 2.7k

a/n fluff and angst yaya this was very fun 2 write ^-^ hope u enjoy!!

You knew it was time to get over Rafe when you caught him laughing and messing around with another girl, while he barely ever sent a smile your way. 

It broke your heart to pieces, the sight of the man whom you loved the most, cracking jokes with a girl he met five minutes ago, when you’ve been trying to pursue him ever since you were teens. 

Your family were good friends with the Camerons, which is how you were introduced to Rafe. After you moved to figure eight, his family were of great help when it came to adjusting. Sarah was kind enough to show you around town, and Rafe… well he was there. 

You developed an attraction to the boy from the moment you saw him, and it just grew from there. You knew your love was unrequited, however, you couldn’t help it, not with the slightest moments hinting that he might’ve been into you.

Whether it was the small smile he’d flash you as a sincere apology, or how protective he’d get whenever his friends try to influence you in a bad way. It all made your pulse quicken, getting your hopes up, thinking that he might’ve had the same motives as you. 

You were in the same friend group, meaning of course, you’d be seeing him often. That was besides the family dinners you shared every weekend, nothing but causing your unrequited crush to evolve into something more. 

You knew Rafe, the boy always kept to himself, the older he got, the more mature he became, distancing himself from his surroundings. That only made you want him more, knowing deep down, there was more to him, not just the cold persona he created for himself. 

You thought it was a fleeing moment, that you’d probably get over him as you grew, but you didn’t; in fact, things only got worse. You started wanting more from him, feeling your heart break a little whenever he introduced you as a family friend, or dismissed his friends whenever they teased you two about being together. 

He’d always laugh it off, brushing off their assumptions with a simple, ‘we’re just friends, she’s like Sarah to me’, and that, it really did it for you. You’d ignore him for a day or two, and give in when he texts you asking whether you were going to show up at the family gathering. 

Sure, he broke your heart, but he was quick to cover it up with sweet words that were the bare minimum to others, but to you? They meant the world to you, and that alone was enough to sum up your feelings for him.

However, this time around, nothing could fix the pang of emptiness that filled your chest, when you spotted Rafe laughing with another girl that wasn’t you, not a worry behind his eyes. He looked happy, that when you saw him, tears instantly welled up in the corner of your eyes, feeling your heart sink to your stomach from the scene you had witnessed.

That was it, your last straw. You decided it was finally time to move on, not able to bear the pain anymore. It was a hurtful sight, really. You validated the fact that you might end up with him one day, your dreams coming crushed when you lost all hopes of ever having him.

It was clear that something was going on between them, hell,  who were you to decide who he ends up with? After all, you were just a family friend to him, nothing more. 

You spent the next few days, weeks, months getting over him, you were determined to do it this time, hanging out less with him, and instead spending more time with the pogues. You started attending less family gatherings, not going unless your parents insisted on dragging you there. 

And when you did join them, you’d avoid the boy with all your might, looking past the puzzled expression that spread across his face whenever he saw you. His gaze would be glued to you the whole night, seeking your eyes with his own, even if it was for a mere moment. 

But you didn’t give him the satifcations. You wanted him to know that you weren’t the same girl who begged for his attention for years, only getting it now that you were ignoring him. 

Rafe on the other hand, well, he can’t state that he wasn’t desperate to find out what went down. Things were normal between you two, until one day, you decided to randomly ignore him, not bothering to text him, or check up on him anymore. 

He tried to crack a conversation out of you, whenever you attended events– which was rarely, now on, merely to be met with a dry response in return. You’d brush off his concerned questions, coming up with an excuse to immediately leave the conversation. 

He had them memorized by now, it was either you getting a phone call, or a text, sometimes needing to use the bathroom came in handy, and the most common one was of course, that you weren’t feeling well, telling him you’ll continue the conversation later on, though that was a lie. 

Rafe was well aware of that. He knew you were upset at him for something he did, that not even the things he usually does to get your attention could solve it. He wishes you discussed your discomfort with him instead of completely bailing on him, refusing to hangout with the rest of your friend group whenever he’s around. 

He can’t lie and say it didn’t hurt his ego, because it did, seeing you give someone the same smile you’d flash him months ago, now desperate for even a single word out of you. For a while, he thought going with the flow would turn things back to how they were, but that only made it worse.

He was starting to miss hanging out with you, having you chill on his bed while he played video games, his whole room smelling like you for days, from being able to recognize your scent on his pillow. 

It bothered him, not being able to hear all about your day, seeing your excitement dedicated to someone else, when it should’ve been him instead. He could only watch you from afar now, gaze burning through your skin until you somehow acknowledged him. 

Going to parties wasn’t fun anymore, he didn’t look forward to events now that you weren’t there, only attending in case he got to see you. He tried, he really did, attempting to get over the uncomfortable feeling rushing through his insides whenever he spots you from afar, wanting nothing but to go up to you, tell you all about how much he missed you.

He knew you though, he was aware that would lead to no good, causing you to further drift apart with the latter, as if it wasn’t bad enough already. He resisted the pang of jealousy that filled through his chest, held back, until he no longer could. 

He couldn’t help the possesivness that washed over him when he spotted you with a man, laughing at a stupid joke he told you while caressing his arms. The little gesture encouraged the latter, causing him to sneak his arms around your waist. 

Rafe’s jaw clenched, tightening his hold around the beer he had in hand, the sight causing anger to bubble up inside him. He wasn’t used to seeing you like this, acting the same way you did with him in the presence of someone else. 

He felt a ping of jealousy, wishing it was him instead, holding you and claiming you in front of everyone else, despite the misunderstanding you had going on. Topper tried to ease up the tension, noticing the way Rafe was intensely staring at you. 

He offered Rafe a drink, telling him to relax and enjoy the party, however, that wasn’t of much help, as his attention was fixed on you the whole night. He tried to resist, he really did, reaching his limit when the boy leaned down to kiss your cheek, the action earning a chuckle out of you. 

That alone, it had Rafe raging, walking towards you with anger visible on his face. He didn’t bother apolgizing to the people he bumped into on the way to you, his mind too accompanied with you to process anything else. 

His breath knocked out of his chest once he was in your presence, your scent instantly filling his nostrils, the same one he’s been grieving to take a whiff of, even for a moment. You turned in the latter’s direction when you sensed him hovering behind him, yet in the other man’s hold. 

“Rafe?” You mumbled over the loud music playing, noticing the look of discomfort on his face. “Is something wrong?”

“You’re coming with me.” He replied, grabbing you by the wrist, merely for you to yank his hand off, immediately growing irritated. 

“What are you doing?” You shot back, eyebrows furrowing with confusion. “What the hell, dude? Can’t you see I’m busy here?”

“Mhm, you look real busy, cuddled up in a random dude’s arms.” He scoffed, “Your moment told me to drop you off, I’m taking you home.”

“I'm capable of getting myself home,” your face scrunched with annoyance, reaching out for your phone, checking to see whether your mom texted you. “Besides, my mom didn’t even say anyth–”

“For fuck sake,” he cut you off, tugging you by your arm, this time able to drag you off the man’s side, who stared at you with confusion. “Just come with me, why are you making things complicated?” 

You mumbled a quick sorry to the man, as Rafe dragged you out against your own will, leading you through the dimly streets, until you eventually approached his car. He unlocked the vehicle, opening the door to the passenger seat, silently signaling for you to get in.

“What are you doing, Rafe?” You shouted, shoving him off of you. “What is wrong with you?”

“Get in.” He replied, tongue darting out to wet his lips. 

“I’m not going with you,” you stated, persistent with your decision. “My mom didn’t ask you to drop me off, I know you’re lying to me.” 

“Get in the fucking car,” he ordered, causing you to slightly wince. Realization washed over him, aware that he was scaring you. “Fuck, I’m sorry– I didn’t mean to–”

“Fuck you,” You hit his chest, attempting to stop him from taking another step forward. “You always fucking do this; every time you see me happy.” 

“Listen, okay– I apologize, I didn’t mean to startle you like that.” He muttered, gaze lingering on your arms pressing to his chest. “Let me jus’ get you home, so I know you’re safe.” 

“You can’t do that,” you choked out, feeling tears form in the corner of your eyes. “You can’t do this to me anymore, I won’t allow it.”

“Why not?” He questioned, frustration visible through his voice. “I did it before, why can’t I do it now?” 

“That’s the problem,” you shook your head, gaze finding the ground, afraid you would give in if you saw Rafe. “I don’t want you to treat me the same way you did, I’m tired of you confusion’ me, over n’ over again.” 

“Then what about me?” He asked, causing you to glance up. “Have you considered my feelings when you decided to ignore me?” 

“Why should I?” You scoffed, despite the tears falling down your face. “After all, I’m just a family friend, nothing more.”

“Fuck that,” he spit out, “That’s not a good excuse for you to ignore me. You know how confused I was?” 

You remained silent for a moment, taken aback by the statement. Rafe’s hands found his forehead, letting a stressful sigh escape his throat. 

“You know how hard it was not having you around? I tried, I really did try to get over it, ignore the fact that you’re killing me alive, while being in another man’s arms.” He uttered, exhaling through his parted lips before he continued. “I mean– what even happened?” 

“You–” You started, vision going blurry, your tears like a waterful now. “You led me on, Rafe. Kept me around, despite the fact that you have a girlfriend.” 

“I– what?” He cocked his head to the side, fixing his attention on you. “I have a girlfriend?”

“You don’t?” You sniffled, now just as confused as he was. “Who was that girl you were with at Topper’s party?”

“Val?” Rafe questioned, recalling the said girl you were talking about. “You idiot, is that why you’re upset at me?” 

You flashed him a puzzled expression, watching as a smile tugged at his lips, washing over his frustration. It made you angry for a second, feeling belittled under his gaze, despite the seriousness you had displayed across your face. 

Rafe relaxed under your gaze, and you could’ve sworn his eyes flickered to your lips, but that might be your vision, blurred up with the tears in your eyes. However, before you could further question the latter, he leaned forward, ceasing the distance between you. 

His lips captured yours in a soft kiss, one you’ve been dying for throughout your entire years of knowing Rafe, crushing on him, not being able to reach out and touch him, even though you were dying to do it. You tensed under his hold for a moment, relaxing when he moved his mouth over yours, the gesture bringing you back to reality. 

You returned the kiss, feeling your pulse quicken within every passing moment. You couldn’t believe it, Rafe Cameron, the one whom you’ve been crushing on for years is kissing you, and you loved every second of it.  

The boy pulled away, letting his forehead rest over yours. His nose slightly brushed yours, and he was so close, you could feel his breath fanning over your face. He cupped your face with one of his hands, wiping your tears with his fingers. 

“Val’s my cousin, by the way.” He clarified, chuckling when an audible gasp escaped your throat. 

“You’re kidding.” You covered your mouth, disbelief visible on your face. 

“Mhm, I’m not.” He sneaked his arms around your waist, a teasing grin forming on his lips as he pecked your temple. “She was visitin’ the island, so it caught me off guard when I saw her.”

“Right.” You replied, too embarrassed to meet the boy’s gaze. “That’s…”

“Cute,” he snickered, continuing your sentence. “You’re so adorable, I didn’t know you were ignoring me ‘cause you were jealous.” 

“Shut up!” You shoved his shoulder, “‘s not funny.” 

“I thought you knew how I felt about you.” He started, embracing you in a hug as his chin gently rested on top of your head. 

“How you felt about me?” You repeated, feeling your face heat up. 

“I like you.” He confessed, “I like you so much, it hurts seeing you with someone else, knowing I should've been the one in his position.” 

You froze in your spot, eyes slightly widening at the confession. Your heart was beating so hard, you were afraid it might pop out of your chest any second now. You were in a state of disbelief, mind too hazed up to comprehend what the boy said. 

The Rafe Cameron likes you, out of everyone else, you. Teen you would be screaming and fanning herself right now. 

“How was I supposed to know that?” You muffled against his chest, fingers fiddling with the buttons attached to his shirt. “You always ignored me, y’know.” 

“That’s not true,” he pulled away, “Everyone in our friend group knows I like you, I was scared it might make you uncomfortable, that’s why I always brushed it off whenever they teased you about me.” 

“You’re so stupid,” you chuckled, sniffilng once more. “I’ve liked you for years, you know that?”

“Oh, I know now.” He cupped your face, a knowing smile suppressing it’s way across his. “Never ignore me again, tell me next time something bother you, okay baby?” 

You nodded, nuzzling your face into his chest once again. You let silence seep through the air for a moment, enjoying the comfortable hug Rafe wrapped you in, letting the boy rock you back and forth. 

“I had no idea who that man was, by the way,” you clarified, cutting through the quietness. “I jus’ went with the flow in hopes of getting you riled up.”

“I knew it!”