#homesickness without a home?
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Does anyone else yearn to go back to a home that doesn't exist and never did?
#silversirenpersonal#that's all I can describe this pervasive feeling as#homesickness without a home?
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I'm so annoyed. @kingcrow01 tumblr ate your ask about Danny's opinion on the League. tumblr i pressed 'save draft' why didn't you sAVE DRAFT.
ANyways I'm making a post instead. For everyone else, the ask was in summary:
What was Danny's opinion on the League now that he's left it? If he missed the familiarity of it, if he recognized the cult-like behavior inside it, and if he now detested his grandfather.
And to answer (again, grrr): It's complicated! We love complicated <3. Yeah, Danny does miss the familiarity of the League, it was still his home for the first ten years of his life and he has a lot of memories there. Plenty of good along with the bad, and while he's less homesick than he was when he was 10, it still hits him like a truck at random intervals.
Sam, Tucker, and Jazz are great, and he likes the Drs. Fentons enough that he's contemplated murdering Vlad for his meddling, but if he wants to eat the same food his mother used to make him and Damian, he has to do it himself and he can't get the taste right. No one knows arabic so he speaks it to himself because he doesn't want to forget his mother tongue, and he has a few books too. Frankly? He genuinely misses training.
Getting to use Sam's gym helps with his restlessness, same with training with Maddie, but he has no one on or above his level to go against other than his mother. And he only sees her twice a year at most. He knows that he's getting stagnant and he fucking despises it like a bad itch he can't scratch.
He feels conflicted about missing the League, however, since by now he recognizes the flaws and what was wrong with it, and he recognizes that it was cult-like. But even that is kinda, hrm, complicated? If this was a fic I would be able to go better into depth about what he has and hasn't unlearned because cult deprogramming is hard and Danny's doing most of this on his own.
Sam, Tucker, and Jazz have helped with the more obvious stuff: like the ecofascism, the disregard for human life, his emotional constipation; the more obvious stuff that shows in his behavior and personality. But none of them are professionals nor do they actually know the full extent of what Danny's life in the League was like. They only have snapshots since Danyal is very tight lipped about it. So they can only help with what they see themselves through Danny's behavior or word of mouth.
But in summary: He sees, for the most part, what's wrong with the League and disagrees with some of the stuff they do now. But he's very conflicted, and trying to dissect his feelings on the League confuses him. His protests about it whenever Sam and Tucker joke about it have at this point become mostly empty (altho it still causes him some discomfort), and its an inside joke between them three.
As for Ra's? Despises him. If only because Ra's wanted him to kill his little brother -- thinking about his motives with the League confuses Danny, cognitive dissonance and stuff, -- a lot of his hatred stems from "He wanted me to fight my baby brother to the death. I destroyed my relationship with Damian because of him, I had to fake my death and leave my home, and I will never meet my father or see my brother again because of him. Fuck that guy."
#dpxdc#dp x dc#dp x dc crossover#dpxdc crossover#dpdc#danny fenton is not the ghost king#danyal al ghul au#starry asks#demon siblings au#danny's opinions on the league is rather complicated but he knows that some of the stuff that happened inside was wrong. and while he's#always known that his upbringing wasn't normal -- and he took pride in that -- its only in recent years that he's learned that#this was a *bad* thing. that his upbringing was wrong. he's still kinda grappling with that.#danny's homesickness hits the worst when he's patching himself up from a ghost fight alone. stitching up his throat in his ghost form when#he gets hit with a deep child-like grief and the unwitting 'i wanna go home'. he's exhausted and sad and hurting and fucking *tired*#good mom talia al ghul supremacy. she's trying her best.#but yeah sam and tucker did a lot of good for Danny by becoming his friend. he's a lot better off than he would've been if he remained alon#'a child not embraced by the village will burn it down to feel its warmth' type of stuff. danny's aware of this and is incredibly grateful#for sam and tucker. and as a result can and will get violently protective. his moral code on killing can be summed up as: i dont kill bc i#value human life and it's inconvenient. but i will do it without remorse if i must.#vlad is only still alive because he's incompetent. but the ice is thin#catch me about to make an incorrect quotes post about this au. i am so close.
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@vulpixisananimal sifstem art jumpscare!! more specifically i got bored and decided to mess around with sif and mal's outfits.
#my art#this is how I think theyd present themselves either in person or in headspace. the slouchers <3#sifs outfit is simple; the boots i always give them (but with star laces for funsies); loose sweater; simple pants#the pants are Meant to be jeans but isat doesnt Specifically Have Jeans so. theyre just Pants.#the sweater is slightly looser bc sif doesnt seem like a Form Fitting Clothes kinda guy to me but hes Trying to be more open#on particularly good days theyll roll the sleeves up or wear a sleeveless one methinks#even if everyone Knows abt the self-harm scars its hard to Look at them.#i also associate them being more open with them not wearing an eyepatch. esp bc hes the only one of the three to go without it#for mal (or 'ami' as i like to call it) i wanted smth reminiscent of a mourning outfit bc mal du pays means homesickness#and i picked 'ami' as a nickname bc ami means friend :] at least according to my basic translator. i dont speak french <3#ami's outfit being dark is also reminiscent of the inversion thing its got going on in canon.#ik the veil is starred in the original but i think ami would want the fewest reminders of home. on account of The Issues#(actually if i can come back to sifs laces sif also has issues with reminders of it bc of the memory loss but the shoelaces are His Choice—#—which gives them a form of control over it and they can keep it subtle or undo it if he wants. which makes it easier)#anyway. i put amis hair in an updo and smoothed the hat bc i think ami wants to be Unremarkable. Unknown. so it keeps its silhouette Simple#(it still keeps the pins. theres smth comforting abt them. they shine like stars and theyre not stars and theyre not Home. but theyre You.)#and i kept the long hair i gave loop. dont ask me why its so long when the canon hair is short. maybe their hair kept growing over the loop#OH and i drew ami in a side profile bc Silhouette and also bc i think itd make an effort to keep people away from its blind spot#andddd i think thats about it? plus i actually managed to keep this one within a reasonable timeframe.#if their hair changes lengths/the proportions change between drawings. no they dont 💛 peace and love and body craft#OH AND YOU FINALLY GET TO SEE WHAT I MEAN ABT SIFS BOOTS BC THESE ARE THE BOOTS I GAVE THEM ON MY REGULAR DESIGN ARENT THEY NEAT#i did actually try to give sif a different font but nothing Works for them like the pixel font. i cant explain it.#i think 'ami' would be a nickname that mira gives it. bc. shes Fantasy French. and its a sort of 'youre more than your yearning/loss' thing#me every time i think abt sifstem: yeah they just rotate in my head. nothing major#me every time i talk abt sifstem: oh hey im almost at tag limit again#au Good what can i say
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#ok this was lovely and all but now i'm just sad#did my first seder without family but with my friend and it was really fun#but i just miss my family now :( and i'm feeling the most homesick i#have been in a long time#i just want to come home and make matzo balls with my dad#and make tea for my mum and see my family that's not in a forced social situation#i'm just. augh#i really miss it:(#mumbles
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Homesick
I think I’m homesick But I can’t go home I have no place I have no where alone
I think I’m homesick But is a home? I have no where I belong I have no where I’m wanted
I think I’m homesick But where was my home? I have no I came from I have no where to go
I think I’m homesick But I got no home I have no where to sleep I have no where to drone
#poems#How can someone be homesick. without a home?#How can someone miss something they don’t have?#Idk#i think I’m going through something#But like#yay poems!!#Did you know a flower bloomed?
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it was so hard being in Galway during the international arts festival and having to watch how much I’m spending. Theres so much awesome work all over but I’ve “already made extravagant purchases on this vacation” and am “going off to college really soon so I need to save money”. Bleh
Still obviously I wasn’t getting anything unless I really wanted it I’m not a fool
#I like Galway a lot more than Dublin#Dublin has some really awesome parts to it but it’s just… idk how to say it#Also I’ve never realized how different my accent is to my parents before? When the only ones with American accents it suddenly shows#I’m still super obviously American but I talk differently than them. I have no idea why. Maybe a generational thing?#My sister also talks differently (she has been called both English and Australian before for some reason despite sounding like neither)#But she has a speech impediment so it’s different#Galway is great because it kind of reminds me of home in all the best ways without making me homesick#The vintage shops here are so much cooler than in the US. Usually you have to go to the thrift store for the good shapes/colours/patterns#The birds here are pretty. Even if one of them shat on my hand and purse. Fuck that one in particular#“It’s good luck! You need it after last night!” Says my family… sure
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#okk i need to make a positive vent post#I'm making good progress with my ed therapy!#I'm even allowed to eat without the eating-group for one meal of the day#and i can go home in three weeks#I'm so homesick i can't wait#I'm really happy rn#cw ed mention
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at around this time 3 yrs ago i was having my first panic attack after which i would barely leave my bed for 2 days <3 happy february 8 to you and yours
#purrs#i was in brighton on a field trip w my cohort and i was sooooo fucking homesick and we went to the seven sisters cliffs and i was looking ou#out over the water feeling depressed and then we went to alfriston and ate weird food in a creepy cafe and THEN we went to battle abbey or w#whatever it was called and all of my friends went off without me and i was alone wandering the grounds and the sun was sickly bright and i w#went into some of the shops but couldn’t find the things i needed and then my stomach started hurting and my heart started pounding and i go#got on the bus early and the other girls in my cohort were being mean to me and then we went back to campus but got dropped off super far aw#away from the dorms and i was feeling worse and worse and i collapsed in bed and ummmmm. it got worse and worse and then i redacted and then#i barely left my bed for 2 days and scared my entire family and almost went home 🤠 i will never forget how helpless and wretched i felt#and i am not glad that it happened but im glad i decided to stay bc 10’days later i met one of my best friends and she was the reason i#suddenly started feeling at home and finally safe and like.. actually becoming this fully realized / independent version of me. until covid#ripped it from my hands and smashed it on the ground 😻😻😻😻😻😻😻 but yeah. the harder you fall the higher you fly or whatever.. and 3 yrs ago#today i fell hard and hopefully i will never fall that hard again bc i have never been so scared in my life lol#brighton
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(East) Oklahoma is wild because you'll see two extremes:
Cherokee Nation of Oklahoma:
"We finished building a rehab center and housing for low income families on the reservation. We will feed any hungry child on reservation land and support the lgbt+."
Oklahoma State Government:
"I will steal the food out of the mouths of hungry children and force them to eat bibles instead to end the woke agenda. Also we kick puppies and hate trans people"
#im tired of this grandpa#i am homesick again. east Oklahoma/west Arkansas will always be my home regardless of how many brain dead conservatives there are.#it makes me mad though. this state would fall apart without the indigenous nations supporting it
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I somehow never got homesick my entire current playthrough of earthbound until the underground. I completely forgot it was a mechanic
#i’m so far from a phone ness you had to do this now 😭#but seriously how did i go this long without getting homesick i think i remembered to call mom like once and visited home maybe twice
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woke up horrendously nauseous at 4 am and i am hoping so bad it’s just a reaction to eating heavy food and that it goes away
#i don’t live at home anymore and i do not want to get sick without my mum present#i ate more food than i have in days and heavier food than ive had in weeks so im hoping my body is just unbalanced and going ‘what the Fuck’#i don’t know. most importantly tho i would just like to not be sick#not much i can do other than take pepto bismol which ive never actually taken before so im hesitant#i have acid reflux/gerd tho so it could potentially be that? idk#sitting in the bathroom rn bc. it’s 4 am i don’t think bathrooms are going to be in high demand rn.#i don’t get homesick but i am rn bc normally i would just be sitting in my bathroom with a blanket or something#idk just. freaked out. plus at least anecdotally vomiting is a covid symptom with these new strains so. not having a great time#there’s no way to not put myself in high risk situations almost all the time#unless im in my room alone which is how i spend most of my free time#idk. im going home this weekend hopefully so
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homesick — rcm (18+)
⋆. 𐙚 ˚ smut, fluff, minors dni, pining, childhood romance, soft!asshole!rafe, very conflicting lol mb, rafe is an asshole with a soft spot for you, could’ve just said it like that sry, sex is slightly sweeter than what i’m used to writing, i know you don’t need me right now, to you it’s just a late night out
longing for something was the most painful thing you could go through. it was the gray area between loving something and obtaining it, more often than not leaning toward loving rather than obtaining. everybody longed for something, at least once in their lives. you knew you did. you longed for everything you once had, everything that slipped through the cracks of your fingers like grains of sand. sand.
you longed for the feeling of sand beneath your bare feet, the scent of saltwater colliding with a freshly opened bottle of sunscreen, for the feeling of the wind in your hair just one more time. today, you would stop longing for it. you would reach the end of the spectrum after twelve long years and pray it would feel the way it did when things were easier.
the car door creaked open, and you stepped out, blinking as the sun met your face. the morning light was blinding, casting a golden glow over the familiar yet unfamiliar streets. your legs ached from the long drive, but it was the dull throb in your chest that you couldn’t shake. something was brewing in the pit of your stomach, poisoning your soul and making your heart clench. nostalgia.
it coursed through your veins, a bittersweet sensation that left you teetering between comfort and pain. everything felt the same, but nothing didn’t look the same. the sun was just as bright, but maybe there were more people now than you’d anticipated. there were more shops lining the streets, more boats anchored at the docks. more had a knack for being better than less, but the difference didn’t sit well with you.
you locked your car, the sharp click echoing louder than you expected in the stillness of the early morning. you promised yourself you’d return for your things later. for now, you needed to jog your memory. the air smelled of salt and sunblock, a scent so ingrained in your childhood that it almost made you choke up. your feet carried you instinctively, down streets you didn’t have to think twice about, past houses that seemed to carry fragments of your past.
you loved your father, because he was so much more than your father. he was your hero, your role model, the man who checked for monsters under your bed and whispered bedtime stories when you couldn’t sleep. he had a quiet strength about him, the kind that made you feel safe no matter how chaotic the world around you became. he was patient, endlessly so, and always seemed to know exactly what to say, even when there were no words to mend the situation.
he had spent his entire life taking care of you, alongside your mother. together, they had built a world where you never felt the weight of their struggles, only the warmth of their love. your mother was the heart of that world, as much a protector as your father was. she had a laugh that could brighten even the darkest days, and a way of knowing what you needed before you ever said a word. you loved them equally, because there was no father who could do it without a mother there, and no mother who could do it without a father by her side.
but you also loved the outer banks. you loved the place you grew up in, the salty air that clung to your skin, the way the waves crashed against the shore in a rhythm that felt like home. you loved the endless summers, the laughter that echoed through the streets of figure 8, and the friendships that felt as unshakable as the tides. yet, when it came down to leaving it, you did what was necessary.
it was three weeks after your mother had gone on a business trip, one in charlotte, just a few hours away. three weeks. that was all it took for everything to unravel. your father had gotten the call two days before he told you, and you could see the heaviness in his eyes, the way his shoulders carried the weight of a decision he didn’t want to make. but he knew—he knew you couldn’t spare another second there. it was time to leave.
and when the time came, it was done quickly, like ripping off a bandage. nobody could hear of it. even if they did, there was nothing they could do about it. lord knows they tried. ward and rose were the first to reach out, their voices frantic, pleading for answers. you remembered the way your father’s jaw tightened as he ended the call, refusing to explain, to argue, to justify. you had been too young to understand, but old enough to sense the finality of it all.
the last you heard, their family had become somewhat of a mess. the perfect veneer of the camerons had cracked, exposing something raw and broken underneath. you tried not to think about it too much, but it seemed impossible. every street, every house, every crashing wave brought memories rushing back, unbidden and unstoppable. but you pushed them down, telling yourself there was no use in dredging up the past—not yet, anyway.
the houses you passed were a symphony of elegance and familiarity, each one a beacon of the wealth that had defined figure 8 for generations. they stood tall and proud, their façades polished to perfection. you could see the care etched into every detail—the manicured lawns with grass so green it seemed unreal, the trimmed hedges sculpted into geometric shapes, and the vibrant flowers lining cobblestone pathways.
the porches were wide and welcoming, adorned with rocking chairs and hanging flower baskets swaying gently in the breeze. some houses boasted wraparound balconies, their railings painted crisp white, while others had large bay windows that gleamed under the sun, curtains drawn just enough to reveal a hint of the lavish interiors within.
you noticed the details, the things you’d forgotten until now: the way the golden plaques glinted with family names, the faint sound of wind chimes echoing from porches, the occasional bark of a dog from behind wrought-iron gates. it was all so familiar, yet so distant, like a photograph you had stared at for so long that it felt unreal.
as you walked, memories followed, clinging to you like the humid air. they weren’t all of this place—most of them were of him. you had no issue remembering him. the problem was forgetting him, something you could never bring yourself to do no matter how hard you tried.
the memory struck you like a wave. You were six years old, standing in this very neighborhood. your parents had just moved in, and the camerons had wasted no time in welcoming you. you could still see it vividly: rafe, two years older than you, standing with his arms crossed, his nose slightly upturned like he was better than everyone else in the room.
you remembered the way you’d clung to your father’s leg, peeking out only to find his piercing blue eyes staring back at you with a mischievous glint. he was mean, even then. spoiled. his first words to you were, “your hair looks funny.”
your cheeks burned at the memory, the sting of his words fresh even after all these years. you could still hear your mother laughing softly, your father gently patting your shoulder, and ward scolding his son. but then there was sarah. sweet, sunny sarah, who had marched right up to her older brother and smacked him on the arm. “stop being mean, rafe!” she had said with all the conviction her five-year-old self could muster.
and then she turned to you, her eyes wide and sparkling with sincerity. “i like your hair,” she had said, her voice gentle, her small hand reaching out to yours.
“i like yours, too,” you had replied, the tears in your eyes disappearing in an instant.
“wanna be friends?” she asked, tilting her head.
“sure,” you had said, a grin breaking through your tears.
rafe had rolled his eyes then, muttering something under his breath as if he couldn’t believe the exchange happening right in front of him. now, as you walked, you couldn’t help but smile at the thought. it was so vivid, so alive, as if it had happened just yesterday. but you wondered—was he the same? had he changed at all, or was he even meaner now?
the shops along the way were a kaleidoscope of charm and nostalgia. their exteriors were bright and inviting, painted in pastel shades of pink, blue, and yellow, with hand-painted signs swaying gently in the breeze. glass display windows showcased trinkets and souvenirs—everything from handwoven baskets to seashell jewelry and t-shirts with “outer banks” scrawled across them in bold, faded lettering. the aroma of fresh pastries wafted from a bakery, mingling with the salty air and drawing a smile to your face.
you paused at a familiar ice cream parlor, its striped awning unchanged after all these years. the sight of children clamoring for cones, their faces smeared with chocolate and strawberry, made your chest ache. it reminded you of summers spent running through these streets, rafe and sarah in tow, chasing the melting sweetness before it dripped down your arms.
the path narrowed as you moved closer to the beach, the buildings giving way to sand dunes and patches of seagrass. the sound of waves crashing against the shore grew louder, accompanied by the cries of seagulls circling above. the salty air thickened, wrapping around you like an old friend. and then, as the beach came into view, the memory struck.
you had just turned seven, the world still a canvas of endless possibility. you were on the beach with sarah, the two of you crouched in the sand, determined to build the most magnificent sandcastle the outer banks had ever seen.
“we get to be the princesses, right?” you asked, your small hands gripping a bright red bucket as you filled it with wet sand.
“yeah! rafe can be the guard,” sarah replied, her tone decisive as she smoothed out the castle walls.
just a few feet away, rafe sat with his legs crossed, focused on his fishing gear. he had been trying to teach himself to fish, his brow furrowed in concentration as he prepared the bait. ward had given him some of his more expensive gear that morning, clearly hoping his son would find purpose in the sport.
you couldn’t help but frown, suddenly dissatisfied with the childish simplicity of your sandcastle compared to the serious task rafe was undertaking. “i wanna try that, too,” you declared, abandoning your bucket and scrambling toward him.
he barely spared you a glance, scoffing as he tied a knot. “as if. you don’t know how to fish.”
you planted your hands on your hips, standing beside him with a determined pout. “why can’t you teach me?” you challenged, tilting your head. then, with a sly grin, you added, “you don’t know either.”
that got his attention. he turned to you with a dramatic sigh, his face a mixture of annoyance and reluctant amusement. “i know how to fish,” he insisted, standing up and brushing the sand from his shorts. “fine, i’ll teach you. but don’t cry when you mess it up.”
he reached for your hands, his grip surprisingly gentle as he guided you toward the rod. his blue eyes softened, though his voice remained gruff. “first, you hold it like this,” he explained, positioning your hands on the handle. “not too tight, or you’ll mess up the cast. got it?”
you nodded eagerly, your small hands dwarfed by the rod as you mimicked his movements.
“now, watch carefully,” he said, stepping behind you to adjust your stance. his hands covered yours, steady and sure, as he helped you draw the rod back. “when i say ‘go,’ you flick it forward. like this—”
“go!”
the line soared into the water, the bait landing with a soft plop. your face lit up with excitement, and you turned to him, beaming. “i did it!”
he rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward in a small smile. “barely. don’t get cocky.”
you laughed, unbothered by his tone. “thanks, rafey.”
“whatever,” he muttered, but there was a flicker of pride in his expression as he returned to his spot.
even then, he was a contradiction—tough on the outside, but with glimpses of something softer beneath the surface. as you stood on the shore now, the memory faded, replaced by the crashing waves and the unanswered question: had he changed? or had time only sharpened his edges?
the beach stretched out before you, golden and endless, shimmering beneath the late morning sun. the air was thick with the scent of salt and sunscreen, the sound of waves mingling with the occasional bark of a dog or the laughter of children playing nearby. seagulls circled above, their cries sharp but oddly soothing, a familiar soundtrack to a place you once called home.
you slipped off your shoes and stepped onto the sand, warm and soft, a sensation you hadn’t felt in years. the grains clung to your skin, and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. it was as if the beach itself were welcoming you back, whispering that some things never changed, no matter how much time passed.
a crowd had gathered in the middle of the shoreline, their figures blending together in the bright sunlight. you couldn’t make out any faces, but the hum of their voices and the sight of carefree movement filled the air with life. despite the busyness of the scene, the beach itself remained a sanctuary—a timeless, comforting space. the wind tousled your hair, and for a moment, you closed your eyes, letting the nostalgia wash over you. it brought you back to a day much like this one, years ago, when the beach had been alive.
your parents had joined ward and rose for a picnic, the two families spreading out a blanket beneath the shade of an umbrella. everyone had been vibrant, so alive. the adults laughed and chatted over glasses of chilled wine, while you and sarah shared slices of watermelon, sticky juice dripping down your chins. she had her head resting on your shoulder, her blonde hair tickling your cheek as you both giggled over nothing in particular.
“it’s really sweet,” you’d said, savoring another bite.
ward had turned to you with a smile, always proud of his ability to impress. “imported from south america,” he’d explained. “you like it?”
you and sarah had nodded enthusiastically, neither of you having a clue in the world what a south america was. the sweetness of the fruit a perfect match for the sunlit day. but as you turned your gaze toward the water, you noticed rafe sitting alone by the shore. he was quiet, his toes buried in the gentle surf, drawing patterns in the wet sand with a stick. there was a tension to him, a nervous energy that seemed out of place amidst the carefree atmosphere.
you set down your half-eaten slice and rose to your feet, brushing sand from your legs. “i’m gonna go check on rafe,” you told sarah, who only shrugged and returned to her watermelon.
as you approached, he glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, scoffing lightly. “you’re all sticky,” he muttered, the faintest hint of amusement in his voice.
you grinned, unbothered. “are you hungry?” you asked, crouching beside him.
he shook his head, the stick in his hand still tracing lines in the sand. you frowned, leaning closer. “what’s wrong?”
for a moment, he didn’t answer, his usual bravado replaced by something softer. finally, he turned to you, his blue eyes filled with a quiet uncertainty. “i have to tell you something,” he said, his voice low.
“what’s wrong, rafey?” you pressed, your concern genuine.
he fidgeted, the stick falling forgotten into the sand as he reached into his pocket. When he turned back to you, his hand was outstretched, holding a small metal ring. it was simple, almost too small, as though it had once belonged to a charm bracelet—or maybe it was something he’d found in rose’s jewelry box or bought with the few dollars he had.
“what’s that?” you asked, curiosity lighting up your face.
“i got it for you,” he said, his tone serious, almost awkward.
“why?”
his gaze dropped to the sand, his cheeks reddening. “because i’m gonna marry you when we grow up.”
you gasped, your excitement bubbling over. “really?”
“yeah,” he mumbled, looking at you with a mixture of pride and embarrassment. “so, here.”
without hesitation, you threw your arms around him, sticky hands and all. “thank you, rafey!”
“stop, you’re still sticky,” he protested, his voice muffled against your shoulder, but he didn’t pull away.
instead, you took his hand, tugging him to his feet. “come on!” you exclaimed, dragging him back toward the picnic.
as you reached the blanket, you held up the ring proudly. “rafe and i are gonna get married!” you announced, your voice loud enough to draw the attention of everyone there.
rafe’s face turned scarlet, his hands stuffed into his pockets as laughter erupted around you. even rose, who was usually so composed, chuckled warmly at the sight of her son’s flustered expression.
sarah ran to you, throwing her arms around your neck. “yes! you’ll get to be my real sister!” she cheered, her enthusiasm matching your own.
the memory made your chest tighten as you stood on the beach now, watching the waves roll in and out. how simple things had been then, how full of joy and possibility. the weight of the years since that day pressed down on you, and you couldn’t help but wonder: had rafe ever thought about it? had he ever remembered that promise?
the sound of the crowd jolted you from your thoughts, pulling you back to the present. laughter, cheers, and the unmistakable hum of engines filled the air, growing louder with every passing second. Intrigued, you turned toward the commotion, your curiosity outweighing the tranquility the beach had offered moments before.
you wove your way through the crowd, dodging elbows and shifting bodies as you tried to get a better look. the closer you got, the more the scene came into view. dirt bikes, sleek and muddied, were scattered along the sand, their riders gathered near the starting line. the crowd pressed in around them, forming a makeshift arena.
at the center of it all were three men who stood apart from the rest, their presence commanding attention. two of them were on one side, seemingly strategizing. one had curly hair that bounced with every movement, his wiry frame radiating energy. the other was blond and lean, his sharp jawline illuminated by the sunlight. a few feet away stood the third man, tall and broad-shouldered, his blond hair buzzed short. even from a distance, there was a quiet intensity to him that made him stand out.
you tapped the shoulder of the girl beside you, who was cheering loudly. “what’s all this?” you asked, your voice just loud enough to be heard over the roar of the crowd.
she turned to you, her eyebrows furrowed as if surprised you didn’t already know. “you’re not from here, huh?” she asked.
you hesitated before replying, “not recently.”
“it’s the kildare enduro,” she explained, a hint of excitement in her voice. “biggest race of the summer. you’re in for a show.”
the name didn’t ring any bells, and you realized this must have been something new, something that had started after you’d left. still, the anticipation in the air was contagious, and you found yourself eager to see what all the fuss was about.
engines revved, the sound sharp and exhilarating as the riders mounted their bikes. the crowd roared as the signal was given, and within seconds, the racers were off, their tires kicking up sand as they sped down the makeshift track.
the racers weaved skillfully around obstacles, their movements a blur of precision and daring. the man with frosted tips was quick, taking sharp turns with practiced ease, his bike seeming to glide over the sand. the lean blond wasn’t far behind, his focus evident in the way he leaned into every curve, his bike roaring as he pushed it to its limits.
but it was the third man who drew your attention most. he was fast, incredibly so, his broad shoulders steady as he maneuvered through the course with calculated aggression. every movement was controlled, deliberate, as though he knew exactly how far he could push the bike without losing control.
the race was a spectacle, a blend of more speed, less skill, and pure adrenaline. the crowd erupted into cheers as the racers hit the halfway mark, neck and neck. it wasn’t until the blond man attempted a daring jump over a dune that things took a turn. his landing was rough, causing his bike to wobble dangerously before he recovered. he seized the opportunity, pulling ahead with a burst of speed, but the tall blond wasn’t far behind. they pushed their bikes to the brink, sand flying in every direction as they closed in on the finish line.
just as it seemed the tall blond had the race in the bag, the one with frosted tips made his move, attempting to overtake him on the final stretch. their bikes collided briefly, sending both riders skidding across the sand. gasps rippled through the crowd as the tall blond man capitalized on the chaos, speeding past the lean one to take second place.
the race was over before it even started, but the energy in the air was electric. you found yourself pushing closer, eager to see the aftermath. the tall blond, covered in sand and visibly frustrated, rose to his feet. he glanced toward the lean blond, who was still brushing himself off, their exchange charged with tension. and then he turned.
for a moment, his piercing blue eyes locked onto yours. there was something achingly familiar about him—the shape of his jaw, the intensity of his gaze. it was as though you’d seen him before, in another life perhaps, but the memory was just out of reach. your heart raced as he continued to stare, his expression unreadable.
you hesitated as the scene unfolded before you, your gaze fixed on the lean blond. a group of people ran toward him, their laughter and shouts mingling with the lingering roar of the crowd. one of them threw their arms around him, but the others had snapped like a twig, shoving him, yelling at him. you couldn’t help but stare, curiosity hitting you.
the realization hit you—you stuck out like a sore thumb, gawking as if you didn’t belong, and you probably didn’t. you started to shift back into the crowd when a gentle touch on your shoulder jolted you. you spun around, your heart leaping into your throat, and froze.
she didn’t need a single word of introduction. the familiar honey-blonde hair, the sharp yet kind eyes, the bright smile etched into your childhood memories—it was unmistakably her.
“sarah?” the name tumbled from your lips before you could stop it.
her eyes widened, her hand flying to her mouth as if to stop herself from crying out. shock rippled across her face, her features softening and trembling all at once. she didn’t say a word, not at first. she just stood there, eyes scanning your face like she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.
then, suddenly, her arms were around you, pulling you into a tight embrace. “oh my god,” she breathed, her voice quivering with disbelief. her grip was strong, desperate, as though letting go would make you vanish again.
the eyes of her friends were on you, you could feel their curious stares, but you didn’t care. at least now, you knew it was really her.
“sarah,” you repeated, your voice cracking. the name felt strange on your tongue after so many years, but it was real. she was real.
“it can’t be you,” she whispered, her breath hitching. “it can’t be.” she pulled back just enough to look at you, her hands gripping your shoulders as tears pooled in her eyes. her gaze darted across your features, her trembling lips curving into a smile of disbelief. “it’s you,” she said again, shaking her head, her voice catching in her throat. “it’s really you.”
tears blurred your vision, your chest tightening as you threw your arms around her this time. you held on tightly, suppressing the sobs clawing at your throat. “sarah,” you said again, her name a lifeline tethering you to the moment.
“are you—are you back?” she asked breathlessly, pulling back just enough to search your face. her voice was thick with emotion, her words tumbling out in a rush. “are you back for good?”
“i am,” you managed, your voice shaky but sure. “i’m back, sarah. for good this time.”
she laughed through her tears, pressing a hand to her chest like she couldn’t believe it. “you have no idea,” she began, her voice breaking, “how much i’ve missed you. how much we’ve missed you.”
she turned then, gesturing toward her group of friends who had been watching the reunion unfold. “guys, this is,” She paused, the words catching in her throat as she turned back to you, her eyes still wide with disbelief. “this is my best friend growing up. this is—”
you gave them a nervous smile as sarah continued, her excitement bubbling over. she rattled off introductions, naming each of them—jj, the boy with the shaggy blonde hair who had lost the race; john b, whose gaze lingered on you with a kind curiosity; and a few others who smiled warmly despite the obvious confusion etched on their faces. they greeted you with nods and hesitant smiles, but you barely registered it. your heart was pounding, your focus still tethered to sarah.
then, almost without thinking, you asked the question. “is rafe here?”
sarah’s face shifted, a flicker of something unreadable crossing her features. you noticed jj and john b exchange a quick glance, something unspoken passing between them.
“he was just here,” sarah finally said, her voice quieter now, almost cautious. “racing.”
the realization hit you like a wave, the memory of the second racer—the tall blond with the piercing blue eyes—crashing over you. your breath caught in your throat as the pieces fell into place. the familiarity you’d felt, the tension in his gaze—it had been him.
you blinked, the realization sinking in deeper than you wanted it to. that had been rafe. older, rougher around the edges, but still undeniably him. you barely heard sarah when she grabbed your hand and said, “come on, let’s head back to john b’s. we can talk there.” her friends nodded, beginning to walk, and you followed them automatically, your feet moving on instinct as your mind raced. sarah walked beside you, her hand gripping yours like she was afraid you’d disappear again.
the walk to john b’s house stretched longer than you anticipated, the weight of sarah’s questions and the unfamiliar tension in her friends' eyes making the air feel thicker than it should have. the sound of your footsteps crunched against the gravel path, each step sinking deeper into the realization that you were walking into a life that no longer felt like your own. the salty breeze carried the faint scent of bonfires and ocean spray, and yet it did little to settle the nerves curling in your stomach.
sarah had stayed close, her hand brushing yours occasionally as if afraid you might disappear again if she didn’t tether you somehow. you glanced sideways at her, taking in the subtle changes in her features—she was still sarah, but her edges had softened, her face more weathered by years of joy and hardship than the carefree girl you’d once known.
when the small house came into view, you nearly stopped in your tracks. it wasn’t the grand estate where you used to sit on the veranda sipping iced tea or sneaking snacks with sarah when ward wasn’t looking. it was modest, its weathered exterior standing in defiant contrast to the glossy life sarah had grown up in. surfboards leaned against the porch, the peeling paint whispered of simpler days, and the scent of fried food wafted from an open window.
“this is where you live now?” you asked softly, unable to mask the disbelief in your tone.
sarah hesitated, then nodded. “yeah,” she said, her voice carrying a mix of pride and resignation. “it’s home.”
you didn’t say anything else, but you couldn’t help wondering what had happened to bring her here. what had pulled her away from the life you once knew?
inside, the house was alive with chatter and movement, the kind of casual chaos you could only find among close friends. jj had thrown himself onto the couch, beer in hand, while kiara rummaged through a drawer for something. john b stood by the kitchen, leaning against the counter, his eyes flicking between you and sarah as if trying to read the situation.
but sarah didn’t let you linger in the room’s atmosphere for long. she tugged you toward the porch, where the sound of the waves was clearer, the salty breeze brushing against your skin. you sank onto the steps beside her, the wood warm beneath you from the day’s sun. for a moment, neither of you spoke.
“how could you?” she asked suddenly, her voice breaking the stillness like a clap of thunder.
you turned to her, startled. “what?”
her gaze was locked on the horizon, her hands gripping the edge of the step. “how could you just leave? how could you stay quiet for twelve years?” her voice trembled, her pain spilling out in waves.
you swallowed hard, the knot in your throat tightening. “sarah, i—”
“you didn’t even say goodbye,” she interrupted, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “you just disappeared. do you have any idea what that did to me? to all of us?”
your breath hitched, and you looked down at your hands, unable to meet her gaze. “i didn’t have a choice,” you said quietly.
her head snapped toward you, her expression a mix of confusion and anger. “what does that even mean?”
“something happened,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “something horrible. and i couldn’t stay. i had to face it.”
her anger melted away, replaced by a sorrow so deep it made your chest ache. “what happened?” she asked softly, her hand reaching for yours.
you shook your head, biting back the emotions threatening to spill over. “i can’t talk about it. not yet.”
she nodded slowly, her fingers tightening around yours. “okay,” she said, her voice steady despite the tears in her eyes. “but promise me you’ll tell me one day.”
“i promise,” you said, your voice cracking under the weight of the moment. the silence returned, heavier this time, until you found the courage to break it. “what about rafe?”
her breath caught, and she pulled her hand back, folding her arms tightly across her chest. “what about him?”
“i need to see him,” you said, your heart pounding.
kiara’s voice cut in from the doorway, sharp and unflinching. “you don’t want to do that.”
you turned to her, frowning. “why not?”
“because nobody here is friends with rafe,” she said, her tone laced with bitterness.
you turned back to sarah, your stomach sinking. “what does she mean? what happened to him?”
sarah’s expression darkened, and she looked away, her fingers tracing invisible patterns on the wood. “he’s not the same,” she said finally. “he’s gotten into some bad things. drugs. crime. hurting people. he’s not the rafe you remember.”
the words hit you like a punch to the gut, the air rushing from your lungs. “no,” you whispered, shaking your head. “that can’t be true.”
“he tried to kill me,” sarah said, her voice trembling. “he’s different now.”
you stared at her, your mind racing, memories of the boy you once knew flashing before your eyes. without thinking, you stood, your chest tight and your breathing uneven. “i need a minute,” you muttered, stepping off the porch.
“wait,” sarah said, her gaze dropping to your hand. her brow furrowed as she leaned closer. “you still have that?”
you followed her gaze to the small metal ring on your pinky, its once shiny surface now dull and worn. “i haven’t taken it off,” you said quietly. “not once these twelve years.”
her breath hitched, and tears filled her eyes. “he gave you that,” she whispered, her voice trembling.
you nodded, your throat tightening. “he did.”
she reached out, her fingers brushing against the ring. “even after everything?”
you swallowed hard, the weight of the ring heavier than ever. “especially after everything.”
her tears spilled over, and she pulled you into a hug, her breath shaky against your shoulder. “we’ll find him,” she said softly. “we’ll fix this. somehow.” but as you pulled away, the doubt lingered in her eyes—and in yours.
your walk was slow, your feet dragging against the dusty path as your mind swirled with thoughts of what sarah had told you. the crisp evening air nipped at your skin, and the faint hum of crickets filled the silence. your fingers brushed against the cool metal of the ring on your pinky, twisting it around absentmindedly as you tried to piece together how everything could have gone so wrong.
the roadside bar loomed ahead, a place frozen in time. its weathered wooden sign creaked faintly in the breeze, illuminated by a flickering neon light that buzzed softly. this was a place your father and ward used to frequent, their laughter and hushed conversations floating in your memory like ghosts. you hesitated for a moment, gripping the ring tighter before pushing open the heavy door.
the smell of stale beer and cigarette smoke hit you first, the dim light casting shadows that danced across the scuffed wooden floor. the low murmur of voices and the crack of pool balls filled the room, but the moment you stepped inside, it felt like every pair of eyes turned to you. men leaned against the bar, their gazes lingering a little too long, and a few heads turned in the corner where a card game was underway. your pulse quickened, and you adjusted your stance, trying not to show the nerves that prickled beneath your skin.
you found an empty stool near the bar and slid onto it, the worn leather cool against your legs. the bartender, a woman with kind eyes and a bright smile, approached. she leaned slightly over the counter, her voice warm. “hi, sugar, what can i get you?”
her friendliness put you at ease, and you adjusted yourself on the stool, thinking back to the times you had sat on your father’s lap here as a child, the smell of whiskey and tobacco clinging to his clothes. you tried to remember what he would order, something simple, something that wouldn’t make you stand out.
“just a beer, thanks,” you answered, your voice steady despite the nerves fluttering in your chest.
she nodded and moved to grab a bottle, setting it down in front of you with a napkin. you paid, sliding the money across the counter, and took a sip, the bitter taste grounding you in the moment.
as you sat there, you let your thoughts wander. you thought about sarah’s words, about how rafe had spiraled into a person you could barely recognize. you thought about the ring on your finger, its weight heavier now than ever, and how you’d kept it on all these years as a symbol of a bond you once thought unbreakable. the sound of the door opening barely registered until you heard the voice.
“gin straight.”
it was deep, rough, and unmistakable. your stomach churned, your breath caught in your throat, and before you could stop yourself, you turned.
there he was, standing a few feet away at the bar, his profile sharp against the dim light. his buzzed hair was shorter than you remembered, his jaw more defined, but it was the same face that had haunted your memories for over a decade. he turned slowly, almost as if he could feel your gaze on him, and when his eyes locked onto yours, the world seemed to tilt off its axis.
it all stopped. the noise, the movement, the air in your lungs. everything came to a grinding halt as his piercing blue eyes met yours.
“rafe,” you exhaled, so quietly you weren’t sure if the word even escaped your lips, but it did.
his gaze stayed on you, unblinking, unreadable. for a moment, he didn’t move, as if frozen in place. then, hesitantly, he stepped closer. you held your breath as he reached out, his hand brushing yours as he lifted it to inspect the ring on your pinky.
he turned your hand slightly, his thumb grazing the metal as his jaw tensed. the silence between you was deafening, his face a mixture of disbelief and something you couldn’t place. but then, as quickly as he had reached for you, he let go, your hand falling limply to your side.
“rafe, please,” you said, your voice louder this time, tinged with desperation.
“no,” his response was barely audible, but the weight of it crushed you. he shook his head, stepping back. “no, you don’t get to do this.”
you blinked, your heart breaking at the quiet finality in his tone. “do what?” you asked, your voice trembling.
“you don’t get to come back after twelve years and act like everything’s the same,” he said, his voice low but sharp. “you don’t get to look at me like that.”
he grabbed his jacket from the stool beside him, abandoning the drink he’d ordered. you reached for him, stepping closer, but he moved away, his movements hurried, as if he couldn’t get out fast enough.
“rafe, wait!” you called after him, but he didn’t stop.
the door swung shut behind him, and you were left standing there, your heart in pieces on the scuffed wooden floor. you sat back down slowly, your hands trembling as you picked up your beer, the cool glass doing little to steady your nerves. tears pricked at your eyes, but you blinked them away, unwilling to break down in front of the strangers still watching you. the ring on your finger seemed heavier now, its meaning twisted and warped by the person rafe had become.
the world seemed to turn on you as you staggered along the dirt path, the alcohol buzzing in your veins far more than you'd intended. you cursed under your breath—why did you even drink in the first place? the bar was supposed to be a brief stop, a distraction. now, here you were, stumbling through the outskirts of town, hopelessly lost.
the cool night air pricked your skin, and you wrapped your arms around yourself for warmth. trees loomed overhead, their branches tangling into an almost suffocating canopy as you ventured deeper into unfamiliar woods. your steps were uneven, crunching against the dry leaves and snapping twigs underfoot. the stillness was eerie, broken only by the distant sound of crickets and the occasional rustle of something unseen.
you didn’t realize you had stopped until you heard faint voices carried on the breeze. they were low, hurried, almost conspiratorial. your muddled brain told you to turn around and leave, but something else—a mixture of curiosity and recklessness—drew you forward.
as you approached, the silhouettes of two figures came into view, faintly illuminated by the pale moonlight breaking through the trees. one was shorter, stocky, with buzzed, dark hair, a mustache, and a chain glinting around his neck. he was gesturing animatedly, his hands moving with the urgency of someone trying to make a quick deal. the other man stood taller, his broad shoulders stiff, his body language more guarded. it wasn’t until your unfocused gaze settled on his profile that your breath hitched in your throat.
even through the haze of alcohol, you could recognize him. the strong jawline, the tense set of his shoulders, the way he ran a hand through his short blond hair—it was unmistakable. but this rafe was different. the sight of him clutching a small, crumpled bag of powder made your stomach churn.
your eyes darted between the two men, trying to piece together the scene in front of you. money exchanged hands, crisp bills slipping from rafe’s grasp to the other man’s. the bag of powder followed, its stark white contents nearly glowing in the faint light. your chest tightened as the reality of what you were seeing hit you. a twig snapped beneath your foot.
both heads snapped in your direction instantly, their movements sharp and alert. rafe’s eyes widened, his entire body tensing as he registered your presence.
you took a step forward, anger and disbelief swirling together in a volatile mix. “really, rafe?” the words came out harsher than you intended, but you couldn’t stop them. “this is what you’ve been up to?”
the shorter man frowned, his expression shifting into one of irritation. “excuse me,” he said with a mocking edge, “this is a private transaction.”
you ignored him, your focus locked on rafe. he sighed heavily, dragging a hand down his face as if trying to summon patience. fully turning to you, his jaw clenched tight, he spoke with a tone that brooked no argument. “this doesn’t concern you.”
“who's this, country club?” the dark-haired man asked with an amused smirk. “got yourself a girlfriend?”
rafe didn’t answer, but the anger in his eyes was unmistakable. it wasn’t just anger—it was frustration, shame, and something deeper, something raw.
your own emotions bubbled over. “you know what? fine.” you reached into your pocket, fumbling for your wallet. “i’ll join the fun. i want some too.”
rafe’s reaction was immediate. he grabbed your wrist, his grip firm but not painful, his eyes boring into yours with a mixture of disbelief and fury. “what the hell are you doing?”
“what?” you shrugged, yanking your arm free as you pulled out a few bills. “you can have fun, and i can’t?”
he leaned closer, lowering his voice to a furious hiss. “you think this is fun?” his eyes darted to the other man, who was now watching with an amused grin, clearly entertained by the unfolding drama. rafe’s attention snapped back to you, his expression dark. “i’m dealing with shit, okay? now, i know you’ve been gone for a while, but this—” he gestured around him, his tone bitter—“this is the way things are now.”
you let out a hollow laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. “dealing with shit? this is your solution?”
rafe clenched his jaw, his hands flexing at his sides. for a moment, it seemed like he might say something, but instead, he abruptly slammed the small bag of powder onto the ground, startling both you and his associate. without another word, he grabbed your arm, yanking you away from the scene with a force that left no room for argument. the shorter man called after him, his voice dripping with annoyance, but rafe didn’t even glance back.
you wrenched your arm free from rafe’s grasp, the momentum staggering you backward a step. his grip had been strong, almost desperate, and as you finally stood still, you took him in.
the years hadn’t been kind, and yet, they had. he was sharper somehow, more defined. his jawline was stronger, his shoulders broader, but his eyes—god, his eyes. the bright blue you remembered so vividly had dimmed, clouded over with something you couldn’t quite name. he looked good, and yet, he looked like a man you barely recognized.
“what the hell is your problem?” the words slipped out before you could stop them, your voice sharp and cutting.
rafe was already pacing, his hands on his hips, his head tilting back as he let out a bitter laugh. he dragged his palms down his face, his movements frantic, unstable. “what’s my problem?” he repeated, his voice laced with mockery. “let’s see, what’s my problem?” he turned to face you, his expression twisted with something you couldn’t quite name—anger, hurt, disbelief, maybe all of it at once. “maybe it has to do with you, showing up after twelve years.”
his words hit like a slap, but he wasn’t done. “i mean, what’d you think? that we’d hug, hold hands, shed a few tears? that it’d be like old times?” his voice rose as he took a step closer. “after you left? after you left?”
the weight of his words made your chest tighten, guilt curling in your stomach like a living thing. you opened your mouth to respond, but he cut you off, his voice growing louder, more unstable. “you thought we’d just pick things up where we left off? are you that delusional?”
he leaned in close, his face inches from yours, and jabbed his fingers against his temple as if trying to make sense of it all. his words spilled out in a rushed, angry torrent, each one hitting you like a blow. “you left, and you stayed gone. you didn’t call, didn’t write. hell, you didn’t even think to check if i was still breathing.”
“she died, rafe,” you said, your voice cracking under the weight of your words.
the sentence stopped him mid-rant. his pacing halted, his brow furrowing as he turned to look at you, truly look at you, for the first time. “what are you talking about?” he asked, his voice quieter but no less intense. “who died?”
your chest tightened, and it took everything in you to speak the words aloud. “my mom, rafe,” you said, the pain evident in every syllable. “she died, and we had to go back. we didn’t have a choice. and when we did, we couldn’t face coming back here. it was too much—it’s still too much.”
rafe’s face crumbled, the anger draining from his expression as sorrow took its place. he ran a hand through his hair, his gaze dropping to the ground as he processed your words. your mom. the woman who had always cared for him in ways his own mother never had. the woman who had bandaged his scraped knees and made him dinner when rose was too busy entertaining guests. she was gone.
the silence stretched between you, heavy and suffocating. finally, rafe spoke, his voice softer than before. “why are you back?”
you swallowed hard, your hands trembling at your sides. “i came back for you,” you answered, your voice steady despite the tears welling in your eyes.
for a brief moment, something in his face softened—something familiar, something achingly rafe. but then he shook his head, his gaze hardening once more. “don’t,” he murmured, almost a plea. “i’m not the same person anymore, and i haven’t been for a long time.”
“i don’t care, rafe,” you shot back, your voice rising with desperation. “nothing could ever change the way i see you. please—”
“stop.”
“no,” you interrupted, your heart breaking with every word. “i know you, rafe. i know who you are underneath all of this. you’re still the same boy i grew up with, the same boy who—”
“stop!” his voice cracked, loud and raw, silencing you. he took a step back, his chest heaving as he struggled to keep himself together. “you don’t know me anymore. you don’t know what i’ve done, what i’ve become. you don’t want this, trust me.”
“i do,” you insisted, tears streaming down your face. “i want you. i came back for you because i never stopped caring. please, rafe, just—”
“i can’t,” he said, his voice breaking as he turned away. he grabbed his jacket from the ground, his movements hurried and clumsy. “i can’t do this.”
“rafe, please!” you called after him, your voice echoing through the trees. but he didn’t turn around. he walked away, his figure disappearing into the shadows, leaving you standing there, shattered and alone.
your knees gave out, and you collapsed to the ground, sobs wracking your body. the ache in your chest was unbearable, like someone had reached in and ripped your heart out. you buried your face in your hands, the cold dirt beneath you offering little comfort. your head throbbed, the pain sharp and unrelenting. the world around you spun, the trees and stars blending together into a dizzying blur. and then, everything went black.
rafe clutched the steering wheel with both hands, his knuckles white as he sped down the dark, empty streets. the tears that streaked his cheeks blurred his vision, but he didn’t care. he couldn’t stop the flood now. this was his only safe place to fall apart—behind the wheel, alone in the cocoon of his car, where no one could see, no one could judge. his chest heaved as sob after sob broke free, and the memories he had buried for so long clawed their way back to the surface. he could still see it, clear as day. the moment everything changed.
he had been eleven years old, standing on your porch, knocking on your door. it had been like any other day—he’d woken up with a plan to drag you outside and teach you something new. maybe you’d climb trees together, or he’d show you how to skip rocks at the creek. you always lit up when he taught you something; it made him feel like a hero.
but when no one answered the door that day, his excitement faded to confusion. he tried again, banging harder, calling your name. still, nothing. the house was eerily quiet, no muffled footsteps, no voices, no sound of the television in the background. he glanced around, noticing for the first time that your father’s car wasn’t parked in the driveway. his heart sank. something felt wrong.
he pushed the door open—it was never locked back then—and stepped inside. the air was still, heavy, as though the house itself had lost its heartbeat. “hello?” he called, his voice echoing faintly. othing. no one. rafe felt panic prick at the edges of his chest as he backed out of the house and ran down the street to his own. when he slipped through the side door, he heard voices. quiet, tense, the kind of voices that told him he wasn’t supposed to be listening.
he crept toward the living room, where his mother and father were standing close, their voices low and hurried. rose’s arms were crossed, her lips pressed into a thin line as ward leaned in closer to her, his face drawn with worry. sarah sat on the couch, her small shoulders shaking as she cried into her hands. rafe froze in the doorway, staring at them.
ward was the first to notice him. his father’s eyes softened, the corners of his mouth pulling into an expression rafe rarely saw from him—sympathy. “dad,” rafe said quietly, stepping further into the room. “she wasn’t home, so i came back.”
he glanced at sarah, confused and a little scared. “why’s she crying?”
rose and ward exchanged a look, a wordless conversation passing between them. finally, ward sighed, walking over to his son. he crouched down, his large hands resting on rafe’s small shoulders. “she’s not going to be home for a very, very long time,” ward said, his voice uncharacteristically gentle.
rafe frowned, trying to understand. “why not? where’d she go?”
ward didn’t answer. instead, for the first time in as long as rafe could remember, his father pulled him into a hug. a real hug, not the kind meant to placate or perform, but one that felt like comfort. one that made Rafe’s chest ache because he didn’t realize how much he needed it.
“i know it’s hard, son,” ward murmured against his ear. “but she’s gone now.”
rafe let his father hold him that day, clinging to the one solid thing he had as his mind raced to comprehend what “gone” meant. the realization hit later, slowly and painfully, when day after day, week after week, he knocked on your door and was met with silence. for a whole year, he went back, hoping, praying that one day you’d answer. but you never did.
and now, twelve years later, you were here again. like a ghost, like a dream he’d stopped believing in. rafe wiped his tears away with the back of his hand, pulling himself out of the memory as he glanced to the side. his heart clenched when he saw you slumped in the passenger seat, unconscious. your face was pale, your body limp, and the sight made him grip the steering wheel harder.
he took a shaky breath, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer. you looked so small, so vulnerable, like the girl he used to know and the stranger you had become all at once. “i'm sorry,” he whispered, the words catching in his throat as he turned his gaze back to the road.
the world was hazy when you opened your eyes, the faint, warm glow of a lamp on the bedside table guiding you back to consciousness. your head throbbed, the dull ache intensifying with each second, and for a moment, you weren’t sure where you were. slowly, you blinked, your vision sharpening. the room around you felt familiar.
a large bed cradled you in its softness, the smooth fabric cool against your skin. the lamp’s golden light cast gentle shadows on the walls, illuminating a painting hanging across from the bed—a serene coastal landscape you swore you’d seen before. beneath the painting sat a neat stack of white drawers. the faint sound of cicadas chirping outside suggested it was night, but how long had you been out? an hour? two? you brought a shaky hand to your temple, pressing lightly against the pounding pain in your head as you tried to piece together how you got here. then you saw him.
rafe was sitting on the edge of the bed, his broad shoulders hunched slightly, his hands clasped together as if he were trying to hold himself together. his eyes, red and puffy, were fixed on you, his expression a mixture of relief, guilt, and something deeper—something unspoken. your lips parted, your voice faint as you murmured, “rafe.” the sound of his name felt foreign on your tongue, yet familiar, like a forgotten melody.
he didn’t respond immediately, just continued to watch you, his throat bobbing as he swallowed thickly.
“rafey,” you whispered, your voice cracking as your senses fully returned. the nickname slipped out before you could stop it, dragging you both back to a time when things were simpler, softer. a time when you’d tug on his sleeve and call him that, and he’d groan in mock annoyance, but secretly love it.
to your surprise, he smiled—small, fragile, but real. “you haven’t called me that in a long time,” he murmured, his voice rough around the edges but warm in a way that made your chest tighten.
you shifted, straightening your back and sitting up to get a better look at him. the movement made you grimace as your headache flared, but you ignored it. you couldn’t think about yourself right now—not when he was here, not when he was looking at you like that. you must be a mess, you thought. your hair was probably tangled, your makeup smeared, and your clothes wrinkled from sleep. but if rafe thought so, he didn’t show it. his gaze remained steady, unwavering, as though you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
“i’m sorry,” you blurted, the words escaping like they had a mind of their own. your throat tightened, and the floodgates opened before you could stop them. “i’m so sorry, rafe.”
your voice cracked as the first tear fell, and then another, until they were streaming freely down your cheeks. the weight of years of guilt and regret crushed you, leaving you breathless and trembling.
“please, don’t cry,” rafe murmured, his voice soft and pleading. he climbed into the bed beside you, reaching out to gently wipe your tears away with the pads of his thumbs. his touch was tender, careful, like he was afraid you might shatter. he had never enjoyed seeing you cry. not when you were kids, and certainly not now.
“i couldn’t have stopped it, could i?” you choked out, your voice trembling. “i could’ve helped you, but i wasn’t there. i left you, rafe. i left you, and look what happened.”
his hands cupped your face, tilting it upward so you had no choice but to meet his gaze. his blue eyes, raw and filled with emotion, bore into yours. “of course you could’ve,” he whispered, his tone tinged with something like sorrow. “nobody could’ve stopped me, but you.” your heart clenched at his words, the truth of them cutting deeper than any blade.
“but,” he added, his thumbs brushing away the fresh tears that streaked your face, “it’s not your fault you weren’t here. you couldn’t have known.” he leaned in slightly, his forehead nearly brushing yours. “you’re here now,” he whispered, his voice steady, reassuring.
you nodded, the lump in your throat too big to speak around. his warmth seeped into you, his presence grounding you in a way nothing else could. his arms wrapped around you, pulling you close until you were cradled in his lap. your head rested against his chest, the steady thrum of his heartbeat calming the storm inside you. for a moment, it felt like the world had stopped spinning. it was just you and rafe, tangled together, trying to piece each other back together.
he shifted slightly, his hand brushing against yours, and his gaze dropped. his fingers stilled when they grazed the small, tarnished ring on your hand. “i can’t believe you’ve kept it all these years,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.
you looked down, following his gaze to the ring he’d given you all those years ago. it was simple, unassuming, but it had meant everything to you.
“it’s all i had left of you,” you admitted, your voice trembling.
rafe’s fingers closed around yours, lifting your hand to his lips. he pressed a soft kiss against the cool metal of the ring, then another against your knuckles. the tenderness of the gesture sent a fresh wave of tears streaming down your cheeks.
“you’ve got me now,” he said, his voice low and certain. he placed your hand against his chest, directly over his heart. your breath hitched as his gaze locked onto yours. his eyes flicked down to your lips, then back up, searching for permission. you gave it with a barely perceptible nod, and in the next heartbeat, he leaned in.
the kiss was soft, hesitant at first, as though he were afraid of breaking the fragile moment. but as your lips moved against his, the hesitation melted away, replaced by something deeper, something more desperate. his hands cupped your face again, tilting it just right as he kissed you like he’d been waiting twelve years to do it. and maybe he had.
your hands found their way to his shoulders, clinging to him like he was the only solid thing in a world that had shifted beneath your feet. his lips were warm and soft, moving with a purpose that made your heart race. time seemed to stretch, the rest of the world fading into nothing as you lost yourself in him. it wasn’t rushed or hurried; it was slow, deliberate, filled with all the emotions you hadn’t been able to say out loud.
the moment lingered, your foreheads pressed together as your breaths mingled in the quiet intimacy of the room. rafe’s hands stayed on your face, his thumbs gently stroking your cheeks as if he were memorizing every inch of you. his blue eyes burned into yours, filled with an intensity that made your heart race and your stomach flutter.
his lips brushed yours again—tentative, almost like a question. when you didn’t pull away, he deepened the kiss, the motion slow and deliberate. his lips moved against yours with a softness that contradicted the desperation in the way his hands held you, like you might disappear if he loosened his grip.
your fingers slid up from his shoulders, tangling in his hair as you tilted your head, giving him better access. he took the invitation greedily, his kisses growing bolder, more insistent. his hands left your face, one settling at the base of your neck while the other pressed gently against the small of your back, pulling you impossibly closer.
when he finally broke the kiss, you were breathless, your lips tingling from the way he’d kissed you like he was afraid it might be his last chance. but he didn’t go far. his lips found your jaw, pressing soft, lingering kisses down its curve. “rafey,” you murmured, your voice barely audible as your head tilted instinctively, giving him more room.
the sound of his nickname, the one only you were allowed to use, on your lips seemed to spur him on. his kisses trailed lower, down to the sensitive spot just below your ear, where his lips lingered, warm and soft against your skin. a shiver ran through you, and you felt his smile against your neck, like he knew exactly what he was doing to you.
“tell me to stop,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. but there was no hesitation in his voice, no real expectation that you would.
“don’t stop,” you replied, your fingers tightening in his hair.
he groaned softly, the sound low and rumbling, sending a wave of heat through you. his lips continued their journey, trailing down the column of your neck, his kisses deliberate and unhurried. he paused at the base of your throat, pressing a kiss there that was more reverent than anything else, like he was worshipping you.
your breath hitched as his lips moved lower, brushing against your collarbone. his hands shifted, one sliding to your waist, the other splayed against your back, keeping you anchored to him. his lips lingered on your collarbone, the warmth of his mouth contrasting with the cool air of the room.
“rafe, please,” you whispered again, your voice trembling.
he pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark and filled with something you couldn’t quite name. his thumb brushed against your cheek, his touch gentle despite the fire in his gaze.
“you’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice raw and earnest.
a tear slipped down your cheek, and he caught it with his thumb, shaking his head slightly as if he couldn’t believe you were here, in his arms, letting him hold you like this.
“you don’t have to cry anymore,” he whispered, leaning in to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth, then another to the opposite side. “i’ve got you now. you’re not going anywhere.” his words settled in your chest, a balm to the ache that had been there for years. you believed him. you felt it in the way he held you, the way he kissed you, the way he looked at you like you were his entire world.
his lips found yours again, this time softer, slower—like he was savoring you, trying to memorize the feel of you against him. his hand cradled the back of your head, his fingers threading gently through your hair as his other hand rested at your waist, keeping you steady.
you melted into him, your hands gripping his shoulders as his warmth enveloped you. he kissed you like he was afraid to rush, as though he wanted to take his time and show you everything he couldn’t put into words.
when he pulled back, his lips hovered just above yours, his breath warm and uneven against your skin. his thumb brushed your cheek, his touch impossibly tender.
“i’ve thought about this,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “about you. about us. for years, i thought i’d lost you for good.” his blue eyes searched yours, his vulnerability shining through.
“i’m here now,” you replied softly, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “and i’m not going anywhere.”
he let out a shaky breath, his forehead resting against yours as if grounding himself in your presence. “i don’t deserve you,” he admitted, his voice breaking slightly. “not after everything i’ve done, after the person i’ve become.”
your heart ached at his words, at the pain you could hear in his voice. you cupped his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you. “rafe,” you said firmly, your voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions coursing through you. “you deserve love, just like anyone else. and i’ve always believed in you. always.”
a tear slipped down his cheek, and you caught it with your thumb, your heart breaking and mending all at once. he leaned into your touch, his eyes closing briefly as if he was letting your words sink in.
“i’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you,” he whispered, his lips brushing yours as he spoke. “if you’ll let me.”
you didn’t answer with words. instead, you closed the distance between you, kissing him with a softness that spoke volumes. he responded immediately, his hands sliding down to your hips as he pulled you closer. the kiss deepened naturally, his lips moving against yours with a newfound urgency, but still gentle—always gentle with you. his hands remained steady on your waist, grounding you as his lips traveled once more, pressing kisses along your jaw, down the curve of your neck.
you tilted your head, giving him more access as his lips found the sensitive spot beneath your ear. a soft sigh escaped you, and you felt his smile against your skin. “you’re incredible,” he whispered against your neck, his voice low and filled with awe. “every piece of you. i don’t know how i got so lucky.”
your fingers found their way into his shirt, tugging gently as his kisses trailed lower, to the hollow of your throat. his lips pressed there for a moment, lingering as if the feel of your heartbeat beneath his lips anchored him. when he finally pulled back to look at you, his eyes were darker now, filled with a mix of emotions—adoration, desire, and something deeper, something that made your stomach flutter.
“you have no idea how long i’ve waited for this,” he murmured, his hands sliding up to cradle your face again. “to have you here, to hold you, to kiss you. i thought i’d never get this chance.”
“you have me now,” you said softly, your voice trembling with the weight of the moment. “i’m yours, rafe. always.”
the words seemed to shatter something in him. he leaned in, capturing your lips in another kiss—this one more heated, more desperate, as if he was trying to pour every unspoken word, every unshed tear into the connection. his hands wandered to your back, pulling you flush against him as he kissed you deeper, his lips leaving no part of yours unexplored. when he finally broke away, his lips trailed along your jaw, to the sensitive spot below your ear, down your neck, and finally to your collarbone.
you shivered under his touch, your breath hitching as his hands skimmed your sides, his fingers brushing against your waist with a tenderness that made your heart ache. “you’re everything,” he murmured against your skin, his voice filled with reverence. “everything i’ve ever wanted.”
his touch seemed to grow bolder, his hands moving to the buttons of your blouse. you helped him, eager to feel the heat of his skin against yours. the fabric parted with a harsh tug, revealing the simple, lacy bra that had been hidden beneath. his eyes darkened as he took in the sight, his breathing growing ragged.
“so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine. his fingers traced the edge of the lace, his eyes never leaving yours. the anticipation was almost unbearable, your heart racing as you waited for his next move.
when he finally did, it was with a gentle touch that belied the intensity in his gaze. he cupped one of your tits, his thumb brushing against the nipple until it tightened into a peak. you gasped at the sensation, arching into his touch. his praises grew more fervent as he played with your sensitive flesh, his voice a soft, muffled whisper that seemed to wrap around you as he pressed the surface of his tongue alongside the valley of your boobs, making you feel desired in a way you hadn’t felt in a long time.
his other hand found the zipper of your skirt, pulling it down with a slow deliberateness that had you squirming in anticipation. the fabric fell away, pooling around your ankles, leaving you in just your panties and bra. the look in his eyes was one of pure hunger, but it was tempered with a love so fierce it stole your breath away.
he leaned in, his mouth capturing one of your nipples through the lace, his tongue teasing it into a hardened point. you moaned, your hands fisting in his shirt. you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, the wetness of his mouth, the roughness of the fabric against your sensitized flesh.
his hand slid down, hooking into the waistband of your panties. you lifted your hips slightly, allowing him to pull them down your legs. the coolness of the air against your bare cunt was an incredible contrast to the heat of his touch. you allowed him to pull your panties down, feeling exposed and vulnerable, yet safe in his arms.
his eyes traveled over your body, taking in every inch of you as if he were worshipping a goddess. his gaze made you feel powerful, beautiful, and utterly wanted. his hands found your hips, his thumbs digging in slightly as he tugged you closer to him. the fabric of his own clothes were rough against your skin, a reminder that this was real, that he was really here, touching you with a love that seemed to consume him.
his mouth moved down, kissing a path from your neck to your chest, pausing to worship each tit in turn. his teeth grazed the flesh gently, making you gasp as he sucked and nibbled. it was erotic, the way he took his time, savoring every moment as if it might be his last. you felt the ache between your legs, the wetness growing slicker with every kiss, every caress.
his hand slid down, his fingers slipping into your wetness, exploring your folds with a gentle yet firm touch. your eyes fluttered closed, your head falling back as he found your clit, stroking it with a precision that made your legs tremble. “fuck, rafe,” you moaned, your voice a breathless whisper.
he kissed you deeply, his hand never leaving your pussy as he began to rub circles around your clit, increasing the pressure with every pass. you could feel yourself getting closer, the tension building like the crescendo of a symphony. his thumb circled your clit as his forefinger slid into your wetness, the sensation sending waves of pleasure through your body.
his mouth moved to your ear, his breath hot and heavy. “i love you,” he whispered, the words sending a shiver down your spine. “i’ve loved you for so long. i wanna make you feel so good, to show you just how much you mean to me. can i?”
you nodded, unable to form words as the orgasm crashed over you, your body shuddering with the force of it. he didn’t stop, his hand moving faster, his thumb pressing harder until you were panting and trembling in his arms. when you finally stilled, he kissed you again, a gentle press of his lips to yours, his tongue sliding in to taste you.
his hands slid away, and you felt the loss acutely, but only for a moment. he stepped back, his own shirt and pants joining the pile of discarded clothes on the floor. his cock stood erect, showing you what you did to him in every sense of the word. you couldn’t help but stare, taking in the sight of him—his chiseled abs, the muscles in his arms, the way his chest rose and fell with every ragged breath.
“you’re so beautiful, rafe,” you whispered, your voice filled with awe.
his eyes never left yours as he stepped closer, his hands coming up to cradle your face again. “says you,” he murmured, the words a declaration that sent a thrill through your body.
his cock brushed against your stomach, hot and hard, and you reached for it, wrapping your hand around it. he groaned, his hips jerking slightly at the contact. you began to stroke him, your hand moving up and down in a slow, steady rhythm that had his eyes fluttering shut.
his hand slid down to your pussy again, his fingers finding your entrance. he slid one inside you, the sensation making you moan. he watched your face as he began to move it in and out, his thumb circling your clit. your breath grew shallow as the pleasure built again, your legs threatening to give out.
his eyes snapped open, a fierce love shining in their depths. “don’t think i’ll be able to stop myself,” he growled, his voice thick with desire. “are you sure you can handle it?” you nodded, unable to form words. your heart was racing, your body more than ready for him. he kissed you once more, his hand guiding his cock to your entrance.
the first push was slow, deliberate, giving you time to adjust to his size. he groaned, his eyes never leaving yours as he inched inside you. it felt like coming home, like the missing piece of a puzzle sliding into place. the feeling was so intense that you had to bite your lip to keep from crying out. once fully seated, he paused, his chest heaving against yours. “are you okay?” he whispered, his voice strained with restraint.
you nodded again, feeling a mix of pleasure and pain as he stretched you. you reached up, pulling his head down for a deep, desperate kiss. “i’m okay, fuck. make love to me, rafe,” you urged.
his eyes searched yours for a moment before a fierce smile spread across his face. he began to move, his strokes long and slow, each one driving him deeper. you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, your nails digging into his back. the room was filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin, your gasps and moans mingling with the crash of the waves outside.
his hand found your tit again, his thumb teasing your nipple as his hips rocked against yours. he picked up the pace, the friction building a delicious ache deep inside you. “you’re so wet, so tight,” he murmured, his voice hoarse. “feel so good, baby.”
the words spurred you on, your hips moving in sync with his. you could feel yourself getting closer again, the tension coiling tighter and tighter. “yes, rafe, yes!” you moaned, your voice echoing in the room. his hand slid down to your clit, his fingers moving in time with his thrusts. the sensation was almost too much for you to handle.
his strokes grew more erratic, his breathing more ragged, and you knew he was close. “gonna cum, baby,” he grunted, his eyes never leaving yours. “gonna fill your pussy up, make you mine forever.”
the raw possessiveness in his voice sent you over the edge. you came hard, your body convulsing around him as wave after wave of pleasure crashed through you. he followed soon after, his cock pulsing inside you, filling you with his warmth.
you held onto him tightly, your breathing matching his, as the world outside the mansion faded away. it was just the two of you, connected in a way you’d never been before. as the aftershocks of your orgasm faded, you felt his weight shift, his body collapsing slightly against yours. it felt like the end to a dream, to something you’ve been chasing after your entire life, but it was only the beginning.
he didn’t pull out, and he wouldnt for a while. instead, he looked up at you, pushing away the sweaty strands of hair that stuck to your forehead. as he did so, his gaze dropped to the ring wrapped around your finger, slick with sweat. “pretty cheap for an engagement ring,” he murmured. “you should throw it out.”
you couldn’t help but frown, “why?”
“so that i can get you a better one.”
⋆. 𐙚 ˚
a/n: ok guys yes im aware that canon rafe would NOT be this sweet lovey dovey hopeless romantic but idgaf i have free will and tumblr so grease my feet
#obx#outer banks#rafe cameron#obx rafe#rafe obx#outer banks rafe#rafe outer banks#rafe cameron smut#rafe cameron angst#rafe cameron fluff#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron x reader smut#rafe smut#rafe angst#rafe fluff#rafe fanfiction#rafe x reader#rafe x reader smut#outer banks smut#outer banks fluff#outer banks angst#drew starkey smut#drew starkey fluff#drew starkey angst#drew starkey x reader
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I Hope You're Doing Well - LN4
Note: I literally pulled this out my ass, but it just flowed!
Word Count: 2.2k (yes that is a lot for me) Warnings: Idk a lot of kissing at the end, little angst
“Hi Lando, it’s Y/N, I hope you’re doing well, I figure you are considering you just won the constructors championship, call me when you want to catch up, I miss you, okay bye,” you hung up the phone. You turned to face your parents along with Lando’s,
“Sorry kid,” your dad said rubbing your shoulder. The four sat you down in the middle of the F1 season telling you their concerns for their son, complaining of being homesick and lonely, which was not Lando at all. You had known each other as long as you could remember. Your parents all went to university together and forced you and Lando into a friendship like parents do with kids. It was awkward at first, but you were very social as a child, and hanging out with a boy a year older than you was cool to you, and if it made your parents happy you would do it. Despite being a year older than you, you were always the same height as Lando growing up. You fit perfectly in his kart, but he never trusted you to drive it. He was always on about traveling in Formula 1 eventually, and he was fine his first couple years but this year was different.
“It’s alright, I wasn’t expecting an answer,” you gave the parents a half smile. You and Lando had lost touch after the first race of the year, after spending all of the winter together something shifted, but you didn’t know what you did to make him ignore you. You called him at the first sign of concern from his parents, but no answer, his parents even urged him to call you but they were rarely hearing from him as it was. Little did they know he would sit listening to the messages you left all the time thinking about home and being with you.
Last winter your parents threw a big party, all their friends were there and of course Lando. There was no one else really your age there so you two find yourselves alone in your childhood bedroom sitting and talking.
“I’m confident this year, we will perform better I know it,” he nodded.
“Well of course you will, and you are going to get that win, I just know it,” you smiled.
“Yeah I hope, thanks for the belief,” he said.
“What are friends for,” that word friends hit Lando hard. He thought he had made so obvious these past few years about how he felt about you, but he was only a friend to you. The rest of that winter he was not his usual self leaving you questioning, he barely even said goodbye before he left for testing. You sat alone in your apartment finding yourself wanting to pick up the phone and ask him what you did wrong but you accepted he needed space. You soon felt something was missing as he didn’t call you after every race like he did last year, you missed seeing his smile, which you always thought was cute. Now without his constant presence, you discovered your true feelings for Lando. You sent him messages getting responses two days later, he wouldn’t take any of your calls due to being busy, but it was the time you would normally call last year, and you knew what was different. You began to leave messages when his parents went to see him. Each message started and ended the same way.
“Hi Lando, it’s Y/N, I hope you’re doing well,” and ended with “I miss you,” or something along those lines. After his first win, you called,
“Hi Lan, it’s me, I hope you’re doing well, and celebrating this win, I’m so proud of you, I wish I could have been there, I miss you.” Your calls continued after each win he earned this year, each podium, each race he scored points, even in his worst races you still left messages, none being answered or getting a callback, making you long for him more. The season came to a close and there you were surrounded by the people near and dear to him leaving the same message again.
This winter he had not come back to visit his family yet, meaning you didn’t have that chance to see him in your time off from work. There you sat around the most important people in your life, as one was missing, holding back tears. His mother rushed out of the room picking up her phone and scolding her son in a message. You went to bed that night looking through the scrapbooks your Moms made of the two of you when you were younger, pictures of you hugging, your arms wrapped around each other's shoulders, pictures of you forcing a smile onto his face and him doing the same to you, so many memories. The books continued as the years went on, you at age 15 with a sign at one of his races and him hugging you after, your high school graduation, your college graduation, he was always there. Now this winter here you were alone a year from that night wishing he would come home.
You woke up the next morning with a voice message lighting up your phone. You were stunned to see the contact picture, you and Lando as little kids. You put in your headphones and hesitated before pressing play on the message.
“Hi Y/N, it’s Lando, I hope you’re doing well, I am doing well, thank you for all your congratulations, I’m sorry I’ve ignored you this season, I will tell you more when I get home tomorrow, I miss you too, see you probably a few hours after you listen to this,” his voice was sincere and you could hear little cracks knowing he was upset. You could feel your heart racing, your mind was spiraling, what could he possibly have to say to me? This is going to be so awkward. What do I even say to him? Your thoughts were interrupted by a knock on your door. You quickly fixed your hair before pulling the blanket up over your pajamas hiding any possible embarrassment.
“Hey, sweetheart,” you heard your mom’s voice outside, “can I come in?”
“Yes, come in,” you put the blanket down, “what is it?” Your Mom looked unusually happy for it being eight in the morning, she must have already had her coffee.
“Lando’s flight arrives in an hour, and we are all going to surprise him at the airport, I know you’re upset with him, but please maybe it will change things,” her eyes were pleading, and after the message, you knew it would be the right thing to do. You hopped out of bed grabbing your morning coffee before changing. You conveniently lived close to the airport so an hour was plenty of time. As you stood with your two families in the terminal waiting you began to think again, you had seen him on social media, which was easier to bury your feelings, but in real life, you didn’t know what you would do.
You watched the hallway, seeing several people go by, none were the faces you wanted to see. It had been a few more minutes since you were distracted by your phone, but you chose to look up at the perfect moment.
“Here he comes,” his mom exclaimed. You shoved your phone in your bag immediately, putting on a smile. He dropped his bag greeting first his parents, then your parents, and froze when he got to you. It was like time stopped, and no one else in the airport existed. He stretched out his arms as you rushed into them. He pulled you so close, you felt your feet lift off the ground.
“Oh Y/N, I’m so sorry, I’ve missed you so much,” he began to cry into you.
“Lando, Lando,” you sobbed feeling his warmth. The two of you pulled yourselves together as you made your way out to your cars.
“Why don’t you two ride together, you have some catching up to do,” his mom winked in your direction. The two of you did as you were told riding in the “kids' car” back to his parents’ home. You got home before them leaving you two some time after your silent car ride, both of you trying to keep it together. Once you got to their house, you made your way upstairs to his room. You watched him unpack his things before you noticed the stack of books next to the bed, the same ones you had looked at the night before. Something in your gut told you to open one, and it was right, it struck his attention.
“Wow look at us,” he said joining you sitting on his bed.
“I know, we were so cute,” you laughed pointing at a picture of you two at Lando’s 9th birthday, you were blowing out his candle with him.
“Still are,” he said softly, the look in his eyes showed he wanted to continue. You closed the book and took a good look at him, you saw pain in his body language, emotional pain. He was different than the Lando you saw the previous year.
“Tell me what’s wrong,” you said resting your hand on his shoulder, “what did I do,” you thought back to last year knowing exactly what hurt him.
“Y/N, hand me the book,” he pointed to the one from your high school years. You handed him the book and he began to frantically flip through it, finding one specific picture. You stared at it, then at him with a faint smile on your lips.
“The dance,” you nodded looking ashamed.
“That’s when it started Y/N, and ever since then I have loved you, I thought I made it obvious, but you only saw me as a friend, I couldn’t take it anymore, I was hurt, and didn’t want to waste my time,” his eyes stayed locked on the book.
“Lan, I feel the same, it took me not having you present constantly to finally realize I have loved you,” you smiled. His eyes picked up from the book,
“All those messages were cries for you to call me so we could have this conversation, I started to think you moved on after the constant lack of response,” you sighed.
“I should have answered all those calls, I should have called back, I should have said something-” you cut him off pressing a kiss to his lips. His hands quickly found your face as yours found his hair, running your fingers through his curls. You both gasped for air after that, your foreheads resting against each other’s. Your hands moved slowly from his hair to his hands which remained on your face. He let go interlocking his fingers with yours as your hands moved to your lap.
“This, this is how it was meant to be,” he smiled, before kissing you once more.
“So should we tell our parents, who definitely have their suspicions already,” you laughed.
“Not yet,” he said laying down in his bed and pulling you along with him. You two lay there your head on his chest with your hands locked over your heart. You were at full joy in the moment, a moment that you didn’t know you needed until now. You flipped over laying on top of him.
“So despite my horrible dancing that night, that’s when you knew,” you laughed running your fingers through his hair again.
“I wasn’t much better,” he laughed, “despite your clumsiness, you still were beautiful,” he said grinning. You pressed another kiss to his lips as his arms found your back pulling you in tighter. You two continued, intensifying the kiss as you both lay now on your sides. His lips moved from your face, down to your jaw and eventually reached your neck, letting you sigh.
“Kids dinner!” your mom called from outside the door. Lando continued moving back up to your lips.
“Lan,” you repeated whispering, pushing him away, “come on,” you smiled.
“Just a few more,” he begged.
“Later,” your eyes showed promise. You fixed your hair in his full-length mirror where he stood behind you wrapping his arms around your shoulders.
“Come on,” you laughed opening the door. You two walked hand in hand downstairs meeting your families in the kitchen. They all turned to face the two of you standing there with intertwined fingers, both with red cheeks. The Dads gave nods of approval to Lando and the Moms squealed gesturing for you to both sit.
“Finally,” his mom clapped as you sat at the table.
“Come on give us a little kiss,” your mom added on. The Dads rolled their eyes but still watched. Lando pulled you in by your neck pressing a soft kiss to your lips. You heard your Dad’s whistle, you shot him a glare after the kiss ended. It was just like old times in the winter when you would have dinners, the conversation flowed naturally as you felt Lando’s smile beaming on his face. This was secretly what you always desired.
#f1#formula 1#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#lando norris x reader#lando norris#lando norizz#lando norris fluff#ln4#ln4 fluff#ln4 imagine#ln4 fic#ln4 x reader#ln4 mcl#mclaren#mclaren formula 1#mclaren f1#mclaren racing
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❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ GIRL, SO CONFUSING kim chaewon x reader
❀ ͘ ⴰ previous chapters | richgirl ⭢ that girl (she’s delicious) ⭢ idon’t smoke ⭢ pretty when you cry ⭢ homesick ⭢ super rich kids
↳ warnings richgirl!yn, angst (yn is still at home), family dynamics, rich kid things, swearing, chaewon is still chaewon, arguing, guilt lots of it, backstory’s, chaewon being an instigator, not from yn’s perspective this time, mentions of ed & weight
what just happened?
the only words running through yunjin’s mind. she couldn’t keep her eyes off yn, who was trying her best to look fine, but yunjin saw right through it. had yn always looked like this?
she trailed behind the rest of the girls as they walked off the field toward the car yn had called for them.
the entire interaction between yn and her mother replayed in her mind like a broken record. she had never seen yn so tense before, yn was always so carefree, like nothing could ruin her mood. but her mother? her mother definitely did.
“lunch?” yn asked, the emotion in her voice hard to pinpoint. “you guys went to lunch without me?”
“honey, it’s not a big deal. don’t be dramatic! we were just celebrating your brother’s achievements just an intimate get together that I planned.”
“right,” yn laughed sarcastically. “i’m always so dramatic, huh?”
her mother ignored yn’s words, stepping back to scan her daughter. “this outfit is cute. it looks good on you. maybe lose a couple more pounds, and it’ll look even better.”
that’s what really got her. yn didn’t seem to notice, but yunjin had been watching her the entire time, through the whole interaction. it kind of scared her how quickly the hurt in yn’s eyes disappeared after her mom’s words. if you hadn’t been paying attention, you’d have missed it entirely.
she had this ugly feeling in her stomach, it was brewing.
“we should get food.” kazuha said as they made their way into the expensive van followed by mumbles of agreement.
"I can have the cooks make something, and you guys can eat in the pool house," yn offered, her voice flat and lacking its usual energy. yunjin frowned, noticing how all day yn seemed to be doing everything she could to keep them from actually going inside her house.
she would take yn as the girl who would love to show off her big childhood home.
“ “you guys?” you’re not hungry?” kazuha asked looking at yn with concern.
“yeah I don’t really have an appetite.”
her mother ignored yn’s words, stepping back to scan her daughter. “this outfit is cute. it looks good on you. maybe lose a couple more pounds, and it’ll look even better.”
yunjin's mind replayed yn's words and then her mothers even as the rest of the girls had moved on from the topic of food. she couldn’t shake it. now that she thought about it, yn never really ate much at the dorms...
that feeling in her stomach was getting worse.
yunjin wasn’t gonna lie and say she was yn’s biggest fan, but to be honest it wasn’t always like that, she never really had any problems with yn when they were preparing for debut it wasn’t until they actually debuted.
“YN OF LESSERAFIM BECOMES GLOBAL BRAND AMBASSADOR OF CHANEL JUST FIVE MONTHS AFTER DEBUT, IT’S REVEALED THAT THE IDOL WAS SEEN AS A MUSE.”
yunjin stared in disbelief at the headline on her phone. yn hadn’t even mentioned this to them. without a second thought, she turned to chaewon, shoving her phone in the leader’s face.
“oh yeah, i saw that earlier,” chaewon said nonchalantly after reading the screen. “that moon family money working overtime, huh?”
“huh?” yunjin blinked, confused. she knew the moon family was a big deal, but would they really pull strings for something like this? yn never talked about her family, much less anything like this.
chaewon smirked, turning her laptop toward yunjin. “i did some digging. chanel is practically a moon family staple.”
yunjin’s eyes widened as she scanned chaewon’s screen. it was filled with photos, yn’s father as a teenager in chanel, her grandfather in chanel, her mother draped in chanel, and even her brothers. But what stood out most were the photos of yn herself. the article showed pictures from her father's press conferences and paparazzi photos starting from when yn was a toddler all the way up to now. in every single one, she was dressed in chanel.
“she’s been wearing it her whole life,” yunjin murmured, piecing it all together.
“yup.” chaewon smiled impressed with herself, “I mean they’ve been wearing it for decades upon decades, why wouldn’t they want the first idol ever from the family to be an ambassador of the brand they love so much.”
yunjin took in chaewon’s words, “oh my…”
“I know right,”. chaewon smirked, “and isn’t it crazy that hybe told us they want us to do things as a group first? but yn is a chanel ambassador, she probably didn’t like the sound of that and pulled daddy into the equation.”
yunjin didn’t want to believe chaewon’s theories but that fact that yn didn’t even tell them about this made it all more believable.
that was practically the beginning of everything. every achievement yn had on her own left yunjin second guessing if it was real, or if it was just the perks of moon money.
yn was, undeniably, the most popular member of the group. she was loved, practically all of south korea had watched her grow up. she had an advantage.
yunjin didn’t like to admit it, but she resented yn a lot. maybe it was chaewon’s words getting to her, but it always seemed like yn never struggled the way the rest of them did. she was praised for everything. when the whole group went through a brutal wave of hate, yn came out of it untouched. it was unfair, her life was perfect.
but after witnessing that interaction, yunjin realized maybe yn’s life wasn’t so perfect after all. she wondered how yn hid it so well. or maybe she hadn’t maybe yunjin had just been too blinded by her resentment to notice.
families in power like the moons were known for not having the best environment, her parents would always bring it, they still did.
“you know when your members grandfather was the head of the family company, they once found yn’s father that was probably about your age passed out in the middle of the road? it was a really big scandal, but everyone forgot about it, I was younger when that happened probably the same age as him but ask your grandparents they’ll tell you all about it.”
“I remember a couple years ago I think your member yn like 12 and she passed out in front of everyone at a press conference, an insider said that the hospital said she hadn’t had any food in her system, again everyone forgot about that, the moon’s perfect image cannot be broken.”
“a couple years ago, maybe four years before you debuted, there was this conference that the whole moon family went to not just your member and her father, mother and siblings like everyone was there, and it was so scary to see, I still feel some type of worry when I see the photo but the whole family looked pale and sick, like they were on their death bed but they still talked and presented perfectly fine, it was so scary and concerning to people that now if you search up the words dead and alive the video and photos will pop up, I remember some people said they think the whole family is on drugs but then an insider said that hospital receives a person from the moon family almost everyday due to them overworking themselves, people don’t know how they’re still alive,”
the last story always sticks out to yunjin she brushed it off when she first heard it but it’s always in the back of her mind when she looks at yn.
because there has been times where yn in the mornings she’d take notice of a hospital bracelet on yn’s wrist, she doesn’t know why she brushed it off but she did.
the feeling in her stomach was getting worse.
all the girls were comfortably lounging in the pool house. there was a tv, so they picked a show to watch
yunjin turned to chaewon, who was sitting beside her. “um, I have a question.”
“yeah?”
“yn’s interaction with her mom was weird, right? like, the weight comment?”
chaewon stared blankly at yunjin. “yeah, it was kind of weird, but that was probably just an off day. it’s normal for moms to mention stuff like that sometimes.”
“but you and I both know yn’s weight is perfectly fine, and it’s not just that and that comment yn said to you about her perfect life after and she seemed so tense, and some of the things her mom said were kind of—”
“okay, yunjin, what is going on? since when did you care about the moon family? they’re a perfectly fine family with all the money and power in the world. if they’re going through a rough patch, they’ll be fine and that comment was just her trying to get under my skin.”
the stories her parents brought up rushed back to her, this didn’t seem like a rough patch this seemed like a lifestyle.
yunjin took a deep breath. “I’m gonna go see where the food is. yn said she was checking on it, but she hasn’t come back.”
“try not to get lost!” chaewon joked.
yunjin couldn’t help but gasp at the sheer size of the moons’ house. this was yn’s childhood home? it was massive, she could definitely get lost here. she was about to turn back, thinking there was no way she’d actually find yn, when she heard her voice. it sounded tense, distressed.
following the sound, she crept closer, the voice leading her toward the kitchen. peering around the wall, she spotted yn, on her knees with her face in her hands, talking to jia, one of the household staff yunjin vaguely remembered.
“and then she brought up my weight again, right in front of everyone,” yn’s voice shook, barely keeping control. “she humiliated me!” she sounded desperate.
yunjin’s eyes widened as she watched yn stand abruptly, snatch a glass from a silver platter meant for the group, and hurl it to the ground, the shatter echoing through the kitchen. jia looked at her with a sad, understanding expression, as if she’d witnessed this scene far too many times.
“jia, I’m not good enough. I’ll never be good enough!” yn’s voice cracked, full of pain. “she planned this whole family lunch without me to celebrate achievements when I’m probably one of the most achieved person in this family as of right now, and now they’re all out shopping together!”
yunjin’s stomach twisted as she watched yn pace, her movements frantic.
“I’ve basically killed myself for that woman. I’ve been starving myself since I was ten ten, jia! I’ve done everything I possibly could just to make her love me, and she just… doesn’t. I’d do anything, anything for her, and it’s never enough.”
yunjin felt frozen, like she’d intruded on something far too personal, but she couldn’t look away. she’d never seen yn like this, stripped raw, unraveling at the seams.
“your mother loves you, miss yn,” jia murmured, reaching out gently. “have some tea, and I’ll bring the food out for your friends.”
“I don’t want tea!” yn shouted, her voice breaking. “and they aren’t my friends! they shouldn’t even be here!” she paused, her face twisting in pain. “she hates me, my own mother hates me, ever since that day.”
“that day wasn’t your fault, yn.”
“but it is! I was trying so hard to please her, and I did the exact opposite. I passed out in front of everyone important to her and dad . I embarrassed the family.” her words were choked, each one like she was tearing herself apart from the inside out.
yunjin’s heart sank. she knew exactly what yn was talking about, a story her own parents had once mentioned in passing.
“that was out of your control, yn. you were just a child.”
the scariest part was that yn wasn’t even crying. she was breaking down, but the tears never came. it was like she’d numbed herself.
yn never cried is something yunjin was starting to take notice of.
“no one is a child in this family jia, we both know that.”
yunjin was so transfixed that she didn’t even notice when jia’s gaze shifted, her eyes widening in alarm. yn turned around, following her gaze, only to meet yunjin’s shocked stare.
“what are you doing in here?”
yunjin flinched as she looked up to see yn walking toward her, fury blazing in her eyes. “I–”
“you shouldn’t be in here. is anyone else in here?”
“no, I was just wondering about the food.” yunjin’s heart was racing, she’d never seen yn like this before. “what’s the problem with me being in here? I don’t see the big deal,” she mumbled.
“because this is my home!” yn’s voice was sharp, rising as she shrugged off jia, who tried to calm her. “I don’t need you guys invading my safe space! do you hate me that much? that you can’t even let me have one place to escape from all of you?”
the feeling in yunjin’s stomach twisted painfully.
“wha–yn, hold on–” yunjin stammered.
“what?! am I being dramatic? I don’t care anymore!” yn’s voice cracked with rage and hurt. “did chaewon set you up to snoop on me? is that what this is? how much did you see?”
yunjin stayed silent.
“where’s all that talk you usually have? I asked how much did you see!”
“a lot…” yunjin admitted quietly.
“of course you did.” yn shook her head, her expression twisted with betrayal. “no one respects my wishes. I told you all to stay outside, to stay out of my space.”
she let out a bitter laugh, venom in every word. “just my luck. I’d tell you to go back to new york and live on the rat infested streets where you belong, but that’d just give you another reason to make my life miserable.”
anger surged through yunjin anger at herself. she felt the crushing weight of yn’s words, the realization of just how deeply she’d hurt her. yn needed a safe space from them. from her. and now, because of yunjin’s carelessness, yn was unraveling.
guilt clawed at her, twisting her insides until she felt nauseous. that feeling in her stomach… it was overwhelming.
unable to hold it back, yunjin looked up, her gaze pleading as she met jia’s concerned eyes. “is there a washroom nearby?”
“right beside you,” jia said softly, pointing.
yunjin turned and stumbled toward the door, barely making it inside before collapsing to her knees in front of the toilet. she let everything out, her stomach churning, her chest heaving with sobs she couldn’t control. the weight of her guilt, her shame, everything she’d ignored and avoided, now pouring out in raw, painful waves.
she lifted her head from the toilet and turned to see yn and jia standing at the door with unreadable expressions.
“I’m so sorry.”
#richgirl!yn#lesserafim x reader#lesserafim#le sserafim x reader#le sserafim#yunjin#huh yunjin#yunjin x reader#yunjin lesserafim#chaewon#kim chaewon#chaewon x reader#kim chaewon x reader#girl group imagines
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"Eyes are Windows to the Soul"
↳ Admiring your Dark Brown eyes
feat: Idia ❋ Sebek ❋ Kalim ❋ Trey genre: fluff note: no pronouns were used for reader, set before Book 7 (mostly because I haven’t finished it yet),
Idia grew up sheltered in a sterile world, filled with LED lights and sleek metal walls. Shades of brown were not common in his daily routine, so he didn’t have a lot of opinions on it.
In a world of neon blue and cold silver, your brown eyes ironically stood out in Idia’s world.
Your eyes remind him of fluffy brown kittens, filled with warmth and mischief. You remind him of those adorable teddy bear prizes in claw machines that everyone covets. You were everything he dreams of holding, but often out of reach.
That is until the two of you grew closer, then he sees your eyes in the ice-cold colas he’s chugging during long grinding sessions with you. He feels a tingling sensation when he sees your eyes in the dry autumn leaves crunching beneath his feet whenever you drag him out to “touch some grass”
Your brown eyes remind him of everything fluffy and warm, of fuzzy feelings and snugness.
Your eyes give off energy, but it’s not scary or overwhelming at all. Rather, it’s soft and enjoyable like a refreshing drink on a hot day.
You seem so out of place in his old world, but Idia couldn’t imagine a life without you anymore.
”Uggh, that cat is just too cute, what a sensory overload! Huh, when did brown cats become my fav? I-I guess kinda recently?”
Sebek holds himself with prestige and integrity, a well-kept man with honor to uphold.
But his experience is filled with the great wilderness, with the natural and unbending beauty of the forest. He proudly recalls his childhood living close to the world of fae and nature.
You were a human. Your upbringing was nothing like his own, a pair of opposites with nothing in common
But, when you look at him with your sweet brown eyes, Sebek sometimes feels lost in nostalgia. In your eyes, he sees the beautiful trees of his homeland, he sees his beloved worn-out books in his bookshelves passed down by his grandfather.
Not only his childhood memories, Sebek feels the same feeling of familiarity in his current lifestyle. He’s reminded of the joy and excitement he feels when he trusts his whole self to the majestic brown horses in the campus wooden stables.
Is it because just like his trusted steed, your warm brown eyes effortlessly shine with so much strength?
Lost in your eyes, he recalls feelings of comfort and home, a connection to what makes Sebek…himself. Though he may not admit it, the stubborn young man finds solace just by staring into your eyes.
"Do I ever feel homesick? Of course I do! I simply… haven’t been feeling all that distant from my homeland as of late”
Kalim is not only surrounded by shades of brown, but also reds, yellows, greens, and everything else in the large spectrum of color. His world is bright and vibrant, never a dull moment for the boisterous heir.
You fit right into his life, adding more happiness to his routine. Your existence gave off a sense of wholesome, sweet fun. You join him in his highs yet keep him grounded when he flies too close to the Sun
To anyone else, Kalim lacks nothing in terms of riches. He is financially blessed for generations to come, and Kalim is not ignorant enough to deny otherwise.
But lately, whenever he watches you, he ponders on what the word “rich” truly meant to him.
Some would call your brown eyes pretty but rather plain, but regardless Kalim would catch himself swimming in the hue of your irises.
In your eyes, he sees the deep color of expensive cognac that many would gift his parents, he sees the color of flawless leather prized by countless merchants, and he sees the color of fertile soil that nurtures and feeds his country.
If someone were to ask his opinion, Kalim would say that richness and pricelessness could be defined by your eyes. Kalim may have an abundance of gold and silver but there is no price that could compare to the look of pure love in your exquisite eyes.
"Have you ever seen a chocolate diamond before? They’re really pretty with a wonderful shine. I really like them, I’ll show you one someday!”
While he isn’t against dabbling in certain subjects and interests, Trey has a pretty solid idea of his future, to become a patissier and to either inherit his family's bakery or start his own business.
Trey doesn’t see himself as anyone extravagant nor does he really want to be. Sure, he may be in a prestigious school, and he may hold an enviable position as a vice-Housewarden, but the green-haired senior holds himself more modestly.
You knew well of his humble dream, and he appreciated the way you would support him however you can, be it a taste tester for new recipes or assisting him in the kitchen before a busy unbirthday party.
In this close proximity, Trey is allowed more chances to glance your way, especially your eyes.
He sees the resemblance in your eyes the color of the chestnuts you collected with the mischievous freshmen, the first day he noticed how cute you were. He’s reminded of warm brownies and cookies he would bake in secret just for you, all to see those very eyes sparkle. He imagines a brick house in the same shade as your eyes, where he’ll live out his peaceful life with you.
In your warm brown eyes, he feels reassurance and security. Trey doesn’t need a lavish lifestyle or a grand plan. All he could wish for is a life where he could bake cakes and pay taxes with you.
“I’m not exactly the most romantic with words, but I do like your eyes. They remind me of…my oven. Ah, that sounded a bit…”
#twisted wonderland#twst#disney twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland x reader#twst x reader#twst imagines#twisted wonderland imagines#twst scenarios#idia shroud#idia x reader#sebek zigvolt#sebek zigvolt x reader#sebek x reader#kalim al asim#kalim x reader#twst kalim#trey clover#twst trey x reader#trey x reader
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Existential Crises You're Prone To
Aries in the 9th House (Leo Rising)
You’re always questioning if you’re really living your life to the fullest. Sometimes it hits you when you’re scrolling through travel pics online, and you realize you’re not taking enough risks. Or maybe you’re sitting at your desk, daydreaming about all the adventures you haven’t taken yet. You might catch yourself thinking, “Is this it?” when you find yourself in the same old routine. You may be prone to those moments of panic when you realize you need to shake things up and pursue something that actually excites you.
Taurus in the 9th House (Virgo Rising)
For you, it’s all about stability and comfort, but sometimes you might wonder if you’re clinging too tightly to what feels safe. You could be sitting at home, wrapped in your cozy blanket, questioning if your life is a bit too predictable. Or maybe you catch yourself daydreaming about what it would be like to break free from the usual routine, only to feel anxious about it. You might find yourself feeling out of sorts when your plans suddenly change, reminding you that life doesn’t always follow the script you wrote. You may be prone to feeling unsettled when faced with new experiences that challenge your sense of security.
Gemini in the 9th House (Libra Rising)
Your mind is a whirlwind of thoughts, and sometimes that leads to a mini-crisis about what you really believe. You could find yourself in a deep conversation and suddenly think, “Wait, do I even agree with what I just said?” It’s like you’re constantly trying to piece together your beliefs, and that can get pretty overwhelming. Imagine flipping through channels late at night, realizing you’re just consuming information without actually connecting to it. You may be prone to second-guessing yourself, especially when bombarded with too many opinions that make you question your own views.
Cancer in the 9th House (Scorpio Rising)
You often find yourself reflecting on your roots and what really makes you feel at home in the world. You might get hit with nostalgia when you’re away from family or your comfort zone, wondering where you truly belong. It’s common to feel a wave of emotions when traveling, especially if it reminds you of home. Picture yourself in a new city, feeling a mix of excitement and homesickness, questioning how your upbringing shapes your views. You may be prone to feeling a bit lost when you’re away from familiar faces, prompting those deeper reflections on your identity.
Leo in the 9th House (Sagittarius Rising)
Your existential musings often revolve around how you express yourself and whether you’re being authentic. You might catch yourself thinking, “Am I just doing this for show?” when pursuing your passions. Imagine standing in the spotlight, feeling like you should be thriving but secretly feeling empty inside. This can spark some serious soul-searching about what makes you happy versus what others expect of you. You may be prone to moments where you realize your need for validation is overshadowing your true self, making you question your path.
Virgo in the 9th House (Capricorn Rising)
For you, life is often about striving for perfection, but that can lead to some serious existential doubt. You might find yourself obsessing over whether you’re really living your best life or just checking boxes. Think about planning a trip to a new place but getting stressed over every detail, only to feel let down when things don’t go as planned. It’s easy to get lost in your own head, wondering if your need for control is stopping you from enjoying the moment. You may be prone to overthinking big decisions, making it hard to just go with the flow.
Libra in the 9th House (Aquarius Rising)
Your existential crises often pop up when you’re trying to balance your needs with the expectations of others. You might find yourself caught between what you want and what everyone else wants from you. Picture a moment when you’re out with friends, feeling like you’re losing sight of your own preferences just to keep the peace. This can lead to some deep questioning about your identity and whether you’re truly being yourself. You may be prone to feelings of unease during times of solitude, which force you to confront who you are without others influencing you.
Scorpio in the 9th House (Pisces Rising)
Your existential questions dive deep into the mysteries of life, often revolving around trust and transformation. You might find yourself wrestling with intense feelings when you confront something that shakes your worldview. Imagine visiting a place that stirs up deep emotions and suddenly questioning everything you thought you knew. This can spark some serious introspection, forcing you to peel back the layers of your beliefs. You may be prone to emotional upheavals that lead you to reexamine your relationships and what you truly value.
Sagittarius in the 9th House (Aries Rising)
You’re always on the hunt for new experiences, but that can lead to crises about whether you’re living life to the fullest. You might feel restless, questioning if your current path aligns with your thirst for adventure. Picture yourself daydreaming about your next big trip while stuck in a boring meeting, realizing you need to make a change. This can push you to reevaluate what really matters to you. You may be prone to spontaneous decisions that shake things up, leaving you both exhilarated and a bit anxious about the unknown.
Capricorn in the 9th House (Taurus Rising)
Your existential dilemmas often circle around success and the pressure to achieve. You might find yourself wondering if your hard work is paying off in happiness or just status. Imagine hitting a career milestone but feeling a nagging emptiness because it didn’t bring you joy. This can spark a deep reflection on what success truly means to you. You may be prone to moments of doubt, especially when faced with setbacks, prompting you to rethink your long-term goals and what really matters in life.
Aquarius in the 9th House (Gemini Rising)
Your existential crises usually challenge conventional thinking and force you to consider your individuality. You might question whether you’re truly being authentic or just following the crowd. Picture a moment in a group setting where everyone is discussing popular beliefs, and you suddenly feel like an outsider. This can lead to a quest for deeper understanding and personal truths. You may be prone to surprising realizations that make you reconsider your values and how they fit into the world around you.
Pisces in the 9th House (Cancer Rising)
Your existential questions often focus on spirituality and finding deeper meaning in life. You might get lost in thoughts about what’s real and what’s not, especially when you’re in a peaceful setting. Imagine a quiet moment by the water, prompting profound reflections about your existence and connection to the universe. This can lead you on a search for spiritual practices that resonate with you. You may be prone to emotional waves that draw you into deep contemplation about your path in life, leaving you feeling both inspired and confused.
#astrology observations#astrology#sidereal astrology#9th house#astro notes#astrology signs#houses in astrology#astro community#astronotes#astro observations#astroblr#astro blog#signs through the 9th house
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