#currently dying over this AGAIN

[aratakatism]

Every Word

A hurt/comfort Keith “Two-Bit” Mathews fanfic

(set 10 months before Curtis parents died)

“Alright! Alright, catch ya later, Steve! Wha- yeah, yeah, you’re one to talk with your big ugly mug! Haha!” Two-Bit called out as he closed the door to his house, and all was quiet. He had just spent a long afternoon with Steve while Soda was working. It was filled with catcalling random broads that either Two or Steve fancied, sneaking into the back of the diner and stealing most of their fries, and ending it with a Mickey Mouse marathon at the Curtis’s. Two-Bit definitely had the time of his life and was smiling ear to ear.

The redhead’s footsteps echoed through the small, quiet house. His mother was working late, and his sister was sleeping over at a friend’s house, so Keith had the place all to himself. He excitedly jumped onto the red couch in the living room while it squealed and groaned in protest. Careful not to lay on the exposed springs, Two-bit leaned over to turn the knob on the TV.

The screen flickered to life and began displaying a re-run of one of Two-Bit’s favorite episodes; the christmas special. Seeing as December was steadily approaching, it didn’t seem out of the ordinary to the greaser. He kicked his muddy shoes up on the peeling coffee table and sighed contently. This was nice.

“Good golly, Minnie! You shouldn’t have!” Mickey Mouse’s voice came from the TV as Minnie offered him a present under the tree. Everyone was there, laughing and joking and drinking hot cocoa. Two-Bit frowned and switched off the TV.

An empty, lost feeling began to form in his chest as he stared at the blank screen. This feeling wasn’t new, but it definitely wasn’t welcome either. It was weird; he hadn’t had a problem with this episode before. But now, seeing the scene of everyone sitting together as a family and sharing kind words flashed in his mind and only deepened the pit in his stomach. He wanted to feel loved like that.

What was he talking about?? He was loved! Steve wouldn’t spend time with him for nothing! The Curtis brothers wouldn’t keep letting Two-Bit in the house because they hated him! Dallas wouldn’t be swiping cigarettes and beer for him because he wanted him dead!

But still.

Keith stood up from the couch and walked over to his room. It was a complete mess in there; clothes strewn all over the place, trash cluttering the corners of his room, and a weird smell that nobody could seem to identify. And yet the redhead still knew where to look.

He crouched down to peer under his bed, brushing out some crumpled wrappers and bottle caps in the process until he found what he was looking for. An old, cobweb-covered shoe box. The redhead pulled the box out from under the bed and gently ran his calloused fingers across the uneven cardboard before opening it.

Inside were hundreds of pieces of paper, ranging from birthday cards to homework sheets from years ago. Two-Bit rummaged around at random before pulling one out. It was an old test from the third grade which he, surprisingly, got a C+ on. The greaser’s fingers gently touched the fading red pen of his old teacher’s calligraphy.

“Great job, Keith! :) Keep up the good work!

  -Mrs. C.”

It was the first time Keith had ever gotten a good grade on a test, let alone a C+. His mom was ecstatic when she got home; Two-Bit even stayed up past his bedtime to show her. He giggled softly at the memory before rummaging around in the box again and taking out another sheet of paper. This time, it was a note his mother left taped to the door one day after he walked home. 

“Hey sweetpea!

I just wanted to let you know that I’m gonna be working very late tonight and I won’t be home by 12. There’s some lasagna in the fridge if you’re hungry. 

Love ya bunches!

   -Mom. ♡”

The redhead slowly traced his mother’s handwriting; the loops on the J’s and the Y’s, the ovals on every dotted letter, and the little heart at the end. That was a great lasagna, Two-Bit thought with a soft smile that grazed his expression. He was already feeling a lot better, but a small patch of need was still nagging at him.

He once again placed his hand in the shoe box and pulled out a post-it note. This one was creased and torn in different places, aging quite horribly, but when the greaser boy saw it he felt his breathing pause.

“Hey kid. Happy 6th 8th birthday. Sorry I can’t make it. See you soon.”

“Love,

  -Dad.”

Keith didn’t even notice he was crying until a tear dropped and fell onto a note inside of the box. He wiped his eyes and murmured softly; “Thanks, love you too.”

The redhead placed the notes back into the shoebox, shoved it back under his mattress and crawled onto his messy, unmade bed. Even still, thoughts swarmed around Two-Bit’s head like flies.

Why couldn’t he make it to Keith’s birthday party?? He was his dad’s son, after all!! Why’d his dad wish him a happy birthday if he was gone anyways? How come his dad signed off with “love” even though he left?? Why can’t there be a spot next to his mom’s bed that’s a little bigger than hers and smells like cologne that Two-Bit could hop into and cuddle up into the scent like Pony or Soda could??

Two-Bit finally closed his eyes and let hot, salty tears stream down his face and into the fabric of his bedsheets.

He knew his dad wasn’t coming back, but he could dream.

you said this was hurt/comfort in dms you LIAR!!!!!(/silly)

“An empty, lost feeling began to form in his chest as he stared at the blank screen. This feeling wasn’t new, but it definitely wasn’t welcome either. It was weird; he hadn’t had a problem with this episode before. But now, seeing the scene of everyone sitting together as a family and sharing kind words flashed in his mind and only deepened the pit in his stomach. He wanted to feel loved like that.

What was he talking about?? He was loved! Steve wouldn’t spend time with him for nothing! The Curtis brothers wouldn’t keep letting Two-Bit in the house because they hated him! Dallas wouldn’t be swiping cigarettes and beer for him because he wanted him dead!”

where’s that one imagewait

OKAY IN ALL SERIOUSNESS YOU CAPTURE THAT PERFECTLY,,, LITERALLY I FELT IT AND IVE BEEN IN THAT SITUATION BEFORE I FEEL IT,,,,,

“The redhead slowly traced his mother’s handwriting; the loops on the J’s and the Y’s, the ovals on every dotted letter, and the little heart at the end. That was a great lasagna, Two-Bit thought with a soft smile that grazed his expression. He was already feeling a lot better, but a small patch of need was still nagging at him.” I LOVE THE DMALL ADDITION OF HIS MOTHERS HANDWIRITNG OUHMY GASH…… i’m sorry i love this sm it’s just a nice detail ykyk??

“ “Hey kid. Happy 6th 8th birthday. Sorry I can’t make it. See you soon.”

“Love,

  -Dad.” “

DUDE IF THE GREASER PARENTS (besides curtis and ms mathews) HAVE NO HATERS IM DEAD . this is gen so sad the crossed out 6th is so AUGHUAUEBWOWBEUAHBEIWHEJWJEIWIE 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 this hurts so bad idk just AUGHHHH of course your useless ass can’t make it 😒😒😒

“Keith didn’t even notice he was crying until a tear dropped and fell onto a note inside of the box. He wiped his eyes and murmured softly; “Thanks, love you too.”” two-bit…. two-bit no….. his ass does not deserve that!!!!!!!!!!!

”

Why couldn’t he make it to Keith’s birthday party?? He was his dad’s son, after all!! Why’d his dad wish him a happy birthday if he was gone anyways? How come his dad signed off with “love” even though he left?? Why can’t there be a spot next to his mom’s bed that’s a little bigger than hers and smells like cologne that Two-Bit could hop into and cuddle up into the scent like Pony or Soda could??

Two-Bit finally closed his eyes and let hot, salty tears stream down his face and into the fabric of his bedsheets.

He knew his dad wasn’t coming back, but he could dream.”

chat… chat you said this was hurt/comfort… CHAT…… dude this makes me so fuckign SAD PLLLSSSSS THE DETAIL ABT PONY AND SODA?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?????! reminder that two-bit has a sister cought cough FUCKING HSELESS ASS FATHER!!!!!!!!! BUT SERIOUSLY J LOVE YOUR WRITING WHENS YOUR AO3 ACCOUNT COMING BBABYGIRL 😞😞

[wednesdaythunder]

Curate my blog?

Listen, I won't curate FUCK, like ma'am, this is a Tumblr. If I can't spam my latest obsession then what's even the point

[cranberrymoons]

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[smile-files]

i realized i could screen-record very easily on my computer, so i decided to record a starlo attempt earlier... and it just so happened to be my winning attempt!!! (i didn't know exactly when to stop recording so i have a fair bit of the next cutscene too haha)

[running-in-the-dark]

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[sunfloralchaos]

Hmmm

[acourtofquestions]

Chapter 55 of Tower of Dawn😭

[tewz]

Depressingly underrated album by Depeche Mode: 'Sounds of the Universe'.

[crehador]

imagining a scenario in which samatoki gets hurt real bad (shot? taking a bullet for ichiro maybe?) and ichiro rushes up to him in a panic and takes him into his arms crying shouting "SAMATOKI! HANG ON!! STAY WITH ME SAMATOKI!!!" only for samatoki to be like "samatoki... san......" before passing tf out

[linogram]

everyone else but me w my full healer build yaoyao died in the arlecchino domain, so i just attacked her and used my ult/skill whenever i could, no dodging, ended up finishing her off solo

[doyouknowhoyouare]

actually kms

[raeathnos]

.

[pisswizard420]

as we speak i am in fact writing part of my special little guy's backstory, that goes a little bit into his family's history

[sodisco]

i should not be held responsible for anything in my spotify wrapped

[prideprejudce]

people saying that users aren’t being compassionate enough towards the billionaires stuck in the death coffin at the bottom of the ocean and calling us “ghouls” for bringing up the absolute absurdity of the entire situation and it’s like……of course no one ever deserves to die by suffocation or freezing to death and it’s a hope that by some miracle that these people are found and somehow saved. however people are aloud to point out the irony of how our current wealth gap is so high that there are people who are able to spend 250k, an amount that most people don’t see in their entire lives, like it’s a movie ticket. except instead of seeing a movie they are entering a death chamber to the bottom of the ocean so they can gawk at the mass grave of over a thousand people

“the CEO of the company tricked them and he’s the real capitalist villain while the other passengers are blameless” I agree that the CEO (who is also stuck in the submarine with them) is as grimy as they come and cut corners in order to make as much money as possible. that’s a given. but as we are seeing now, most people who have never even stepped foot in the ocean their entire lives could see that this was a disaster waiting to happen. you don’t have to be a maritime expert to see that. the submersible has no emergency beacon, is controlled by an off brand game controller, made from parts from a camp store, navigated by texts from above, is bolted in from the outside, and has a contract that passengers sign that mentions “death” three times on the front page. most people couldn’t be paid to step foot in it - and these people paid 250k to go to the bottom of the ocean in it

once again, no one is relishing at people dying stuck in an essentially gutted out minivan at the bottom of the ocean. especially when one passenger is 19 and the other is a legitimate titanic researcher. but people are allowed to be mad that thousands upon thousands of dollars of taxpayer money and resources are being used to try and literally pluck these people out of the ocean and save them from a grave that they literally helped dig themselves into without a care in the world. they are the 1% who can put themselves in peril as much as they please and spend money and waste resources like it’s water but will always expect to be saved from the brink of death by us regular folk so they can call themselves an “adventurer” at their next luncheon

[2tarbell]

US — KOOK!READER

rafe cameron had been yours since the moment you met.

(drabble. © 2tarbell 2024)

if anyone asked you, you’d say you never got jealous. what was the point? a seemingly endless waste of energy and your valuable attention — people would get on their knees in seconds for a chance to talk to you. a kook princess never got jealous.

which is why the stinging question of ‘why?’ bounced around your head as you watched rafe walk back over to the bar, a pretty head of dark hair awaiting him with an infuriatingly easy going smile.

sofia.

you only learned her name after she introduced herself with a little grin. something about the pogue was effortless and it was currently eating away at any confidence you might’ve had when you walked in.

your makeup felt heavy and your miniskirt too short, too tight — did you look trashy? like you were trying too hard? she was sweet; that girl next door energy you know you’d never have. no matter how much you cried and pleaded.

a bump to your shoulder interrupted your brooding, pretty glossed lips stuck together in a pout, mimicking the furrow of your brow. topper gave you a knowing look and a scowl met him. he chuckled dryly.

“earth to princess, hellooo?”

you rolled your eyes, directing your attention to your empty cocktail glass. the ice looked back at you mockingly — you’re the one who asked rafe to go get you another drink. stupid, stupid, stupid.

“go to hell, top.” the quip made your other best friend laugh, kelce reaching across the table to steal a fry from your untouched plate. how could you eat in a moment like this?

“what’s the problem? you’re literally pouting.” the boy mumbled.

the way kelce spoke through a mouthful of fried potato made you wince. a napkin is thrown in his direction, landing on the table lamely. boys are so messy, and nosey.

you huff dramatically, “ugh, it’s nothing. god, i miss when men went off to war and, like, died or something—“

your annoyed spiel is cut off by a drink being placed in front of you, the lime already squeezed in and floating amongst the cubes of ice. just how you like it. a warm hand rests on the nape of your neck as the chair beside you squeaks against the floor. that voice you know so well rumbling close to you.

“who’s dying?” rafe mumbles as he gets comfortable in the plush chair again, arm stretching behind your shoulders. the gesture is so casual and it makes your stomach twist.

his eyes are piercing when you look over at him — a smirk raises his lips and you fight the urge to slap him then kiss it off his stupid face.

“you — if you were gonna take any longer.”

the eye roll you receive is nothing out of the ordinary — rafe was used to your bitchy tendencies. but watching him chat with the bartender made a seed of doubt burrow into your mind. sofia probably wasn’t such a cunt. maybe that’s why he likes her.

“yeah, well, someone wanted a lime and they were out. sorta hadta wait for your shit, dollface…” rafe explained like it was second nature.

your passive aggressiveness never seemed to phased him, he always put up with it, with you. the thought hurt more than you cared to admit. it was masked with a glare.

you flipped your hair over your shoulder and crossed a leg over the other, stomach churning while you poked at the cocktail with the thin black straw. the conversation between the boys picked back up — blah blah, golf, topper whining about sarah, blah blah.

it was like the cameron boy sensed your disinterest. his arm on the back of your chair shifted, blunt nails now tracing up and down your spine. the contact made your back straighten before leaning into his touch.

it was pacifying for a while. his side profile caught your attention, nose sharp and sexy, cheekbones crafted expertly. he was so handsome it was unfair... she probably thought so, too.

god, why couldn’t you stop thinking about that pogue girl? was he charming and funny to her? maybe he played hard to get and dismissive. maybe her number was sitting in his pocket, scribbled on a napkin in perfect curls — fucking ew.

suddenly you became irritated. the thought of your best friend, your rafe thinking he could flirt with someone like her then slink back over to you. yeah, right. you weren’t that easy. you rolled your shoulders, shrugging off his touch. he shot you a look but didn’t say anything, just adjusted in his chair.

you were listening to the conversation even less now, anger and something you didn’t want to name boiling in your chest. stiff as a board, you picked at your food. only humming in acknowledgment when something concerned you. it was obvious something was the matter and your friends shared curious looks with each other but never asked you outright.

a warm palm tried to squeeze your thigh but you pushed his hand off. rafe clenched his jaw at your dismissal, feeling that familiar need for dominance over you and whatever fuckin’ attitude you decided to have today. with topper and kelce in a heated debate over something probably stupid, rafe leaned in — his breath was hot against your ear as he spoke in a low warning tone.

“don’t know what your fuckin’ deal is — but it ends now, yeah? eat.”

the glare you sent up through your lashes only stoked the fires of his annoyance. there’s a momentary stare off, eyes communicating thousands of thoughts and unspeakable feelings.

with a scoff you look away, feeling a lump form in your throat. no, this isn’t happening. you stand abruptly and rifle through your purse for a hundred before you throw it on the table, storming off with heels clicking.

the sound echoes in rafe’s head as he snatches the bill up, placing his card down on the table. he quickly follows after you, ignoring the way sofia’s eyes light up when he heads her direction.

“hi, rafe, i was just…” her words fizzle out in her tongue as she watches him pass her, marching after the pretty girl in a yellow top.

the small family bathroom offered a reprieve from the stifling nature of rafe’s presence and your own mind. looking in the mirror — you hardly recognized yourself. you shoved your purse onto the counter, feeling like your composure was completely lost.

eyes wide and teary, lips still glittery but trembling. this was only a version of you he could bring out. now, you found yourself wishing for the comforting weight of his words and gaze and — no, be strong. get it together.

the silence was broken by the door being pushed open with immense force. your head dropped, not trusting yourself to form a witty stab of words. within seconds he was turning you, body hard and pressing your back into the counter, reaching behind you and shoving the hundred dollar bill back into your purse. a wince left you when he gripped your jaw tightly with a hold unforgiving and questioning.

“fuck was that, huh? you— you were doin’ so well, dollface, and now—”

the words halted when he saw a shiny tear streak down your face. the way his eyes softened only pushed you further into despair. his hand moved, now cupping your face and running a thumb along your cheekbone. the wet pearl caught on his skin but once they started, they just kept coming.

soon you were in his arms, hiccuping and holding on for dear life. rafe rocked you with a tight hold — voice soothing despite the look of confusion on his face. he’d never seen you this upset before, this broken.

“hey, hey, woah — what’s’a matter? what happened?” he cooed.

his large palm smoothed over your hair as you pressed your makeup running cheeks to his chest. hugging rafe always made everything better, but now you can’t stop thinking about him holding her like this.

he spoke your name firmly, pulling your head back to look deep into your wet eyes. his stare was intense, worried and seeking answers.

“use your words f’me,” he pushed your hair back off your forehead as he mumbled. and if you were in your right mind, you would’ve shrieked about him ruining your hair.

“jus’— d’you like her?” you blubbered.

rafe was more than confused, his eyebrows drawn together tightly. he crouched down a little, trying to hear your meek voice better.

frustrated and distraught, you pushed him back weakly. a few more inches were put between you two — only a few seconds until he crowded you again, trying to soothe you.

“sofia, rafe! do you like her?”

your yelling had him stepping even closer. shaking his head quickly, confused and slightly irritated, rafe cupped your cheeks in his palms.

“okay, okay— i heard you. don’t scream. i don’t— i don’t even fuckin’ know her. stop, stay still—“

you were squirming, trying to get far from him. far from this and the horrible ache in your chest at just the thought him maybe, possibly—

“stop, i’m talking now. ‘m not— i don’t like sofia, okay? i don’t, y’hear me?” his voice was authoritative, freezing you in place. those blue eyes pleaded with yours for understanding, for trust.

despite the tension between you, his heart skips a beat as your gaze meets his. he sees the sparkle in your eyes, that fire mixed with a hint of softness that he’s so fond of. it gives him a glimmer of hope that maybe he can bridge this gap between you.

“c’mon. you know you’re my girl.”

you melt into him unconsciously, seeking that warmth his embrace always seemed to bring. you’re hugging each other tightly in the small bathroom. rafe stares at your figures in the mirror, watching as you nuzzle further into his arms. like you belong there.

with a sniffle, you tip your head back. feeling so small as you look up at his face. rafe leans down and presses a tender kiss to your mouth — moving slowly in a moment of raw vulnerability.

his voice is low, you feel the vibrations against your lips as he speaks softly, “i wouldn’t do that t’you… to us.”

he feels your body tense at his words, his hands squeeze your hips. with wide eyes you pull back from the kiss and gape at him. his touch is begging you to listen, to not freak out. the tears well anew as you let his words wash over you. us. he thinks there’s an us.

suddenly, it’s like you can breathe again. like all the nights feeling scared and confused without him seem worth it. all of it’s worth it to be in his arms like this, hearing him justify the feelings you’ve done everything to bury.

rafe cups your cheek in one hand, the other arm wrapping fully around your body. there’s something so tender and charged about the way he’s looking at you and wiping your crocodile tears away.

he’s begging you now, eyes flicking between yours, “you’re my girl, you know that. always gonna be us, a’ight?”

a light burns in your heart and you realize that you do know that. when has it ever been anything else? when has he not been by your side, dealing with your bullshit? rafe cameron had been yours since the moment you met.

with a shaky exhale you nod, leaning into his palm. the sight of you so fragile tears at his heart and rafe draws you in closer. his nose finds home in your hairline and he peppers kisses along your forehead. us.

the revelation didn’t stop the words from spilling out of your mouth, insecurity still pecking at your mind.

“she’s probably easier to deal with.”

“nah, i don’t wan’ easy.”

he pulls back, holding the back of your neck to angle your face towards him. there’s a hardness to his gaze — like the very idea of easy is repulsing him. then he’s smirking and leaning in.

rafe presses a firm kiss to your mouth, tongue parting your lips and swallowing the hiccup of pleasure that slipped out. his leg wedges its way between yours, knee pressed snugly underneath your miniskirt. he’s devouring you completely unforgivingly. without thought, you roll your hips against his knee. the tension in your body melts away as the friction of his jeans meets your covered clit.

“mmf, rafe—”

“i don’t want easy,” his words accented by harsher presses of his leg upward, causing you to choke on air, “i want you. whiny and bratty and beautiful you. got it?”

nodding your head fervently, he smushes his lips against yours. lifting you onto the small counter and shoving a hand up your skirt, his hardness pressing thick and pulsing against your thigh. the kiss so messy and clothes haphazardly being pulled to the side. the spark of finally being seen, finally being acknowledged as his, fuels the moment.

the sex is slow and steady, a promise of commitment and dedication to this messy relationship. to each other. tears of pleasure and happiness collect on your lash line, pretty face scrunched in ecstasy only rafe could provide.

(and topper and kelce took his card and ordered five beers each.)