#i hope you like? gentle caring boyfriends who are trying their best | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nadvs · 5 months ago

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home before dark (part eight) (end)

pairing rafe cameron x kook! female reader

rating mature 18+

summary as children, you and rafe were best friends, but then tragedy suddenly struck his family and he shut everybody out. years later, you need his help when a pushy ex-boyfriend won’t leave you alone. rafe is perfect for the job because everybody’s afraid of him. except for you.

content warnings stalker ex, violence, smut, substance abuse, death and mourning of parent

» masterlist

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You can hear gentle taps on the window behind you. At some point since you got back from the marina, it must’ve started raining. You’ve been too absorbed in your time with Rafe to notice until now.

Even though you’re trying to process what he just said, your instinct is to hope for his sake that it doesn’t storm. Because your instinct has always been to worry about him. His was always to avoid you. And now, if you actually heard him right, you know the real reason why.

You’re suspended in time as you stand in front of him in your kitchen, trying to silently compel him to look at you again. But his eyes are focused on the floor.

You were just upstairs, touching in the most intimate way, giving each other the best kind of pleasure. Now, in a matter of a minute, a chasm has opened up between you again. Rafe’s chest is rising and falling faster with every second that passes.

“What’d you just say?” you ask.

“I was…” Rafe shuffles in place, his temples beginning to throb. “Fuck. I was never going to tell you.”

“What do you mean because of me?” you echo his words, your legs weakening.

Hearing your voice sound so faint, a harsh contrast from the soothing, careful way you always speak to him, makes his chest tighten.

“Goddamn it,” Rafe mutters. “Why’d you have to push me to talk when I - I said I didn’t want to talk?”

His feet carry him to the other end of the counter just to create some distance. He figures it should be easy because for so long, it’s been second nature for him stay away from you. But he hates that he can’t touch you right now. This moment is too tense, the words he said too ugly.

Rafe finally meets your gaze. Every other time he thought you looked sad or scared or broken is nothing compared to the way your face is knitted in misery right now.

His darkest secret is out. He told himself he’d take it to the grave. But he just changed everything. He shoved a dagger into the heart of the only person who truly cares about him. And there’s no undoing it.

“What do you mean because of me?” you repeat.

Rafe swallows the lump in his throat. He knew you were wrong; he’s not good like you said he is. This proves it. He’s sick. There’s something wrong with him because a good person wouldn’t blurt what he just said out, no matter how much pressure they were under.

He nervously grips the edge of the counter.

“Rafe,” you urge. His head hangs low.

“It was right before your birthday,” he mutters. “Do you remember?”

“Of course I-” You inhale a sharp breath. “Of course I remember.”

After what happened, you cancelled your eleventh birthday party. You didn’t want to celebrate anything for years afterwards.

“Did that have… something to do with it?” you ask.

Rafe’s body goes cold. It had everything to do with it.

He begged his mother to go. She told him there were warnings on tv about a storm and that they could go the next day, that there was time, but he had to be such a brat about it that she finally agreed. She always gave into him.

“You never stopped talking about how excited you were for it,” he says, “and I wanted to get you something great and I made her take me. And you…”

His gaze hardens. This was supposed to stay locked inside him forever. At some point, behind his back, you got the key.

Your heart is in a vice. You’re waiting for him to say this is a cruel joke.

“You know what?” he huffs. “I don’t even remember what I was so determined to get you. I just remember…”

He pinches the bridge of his nose, a short, boyish whine escaping his mouth as he hears the sound of the tires skidding in his mind, over and over again. They didn’t even make it to the store.

You want to rush to him. To hold him. To let him dampen your shirt with his tears again. But you can’t. You’re frozen.

This is why Rafe never wanted you in his life. You’re not just a reminder. It was never that simple. You’re the reason for his suffering. And you can touch him and laugh with him and kiss him as many times as you want, but you’re sure he’ll never see past it.

He doesn’t have to tell you why he kept this from you. It’s clear. He didn’t want to hurt you. You thought he was being cruel all these years, but he was protecting both of you from this very moment.

You imagine the boy you knew, in the car, watching his world end because he wanted to be a good best friend to you. He was always sweet. Always doing what he could to show the people he loved that he loved them. And he paid for it in the worst way.

You’re crashing into a painful realization, as if the lights were just turned on, burning your eyes after you’d been sitting in the dark for years.

“I…” you begin. But you’re weak. Speechless. You hold the back of a chair at the kitchen table for stability.

For once, you’re not touching Rafe to comfort him as he cries. On top of the shame and frustration and guilt he’s feeling, a sense of loneliness sinks into him. He doesn’t know if he’d push you away if you came to him. But you’re not even going to try?

The sharp, comfortable feeling of anger overshadows it all. Like always. Being mad is the most familiar state for him to be in. Especially when it’s himself he’s angry at.

“And I just kept asking until she agreed to take me,” he mutters.

You can hear it in his voice that he blames himself, too. And if there’s anything you can do for him, it’s take away his pain. It’s what you’ve wanted to do for him for so long.

Guilt rips you into you. A hot tear rolls over your cheek. If Rafe has to blame you, if it’s defence mechanism, his way to cope, you can live with being the bad guy in his story. Because you love him. You’re afraid you always will.

Your phone rings in your pocket, blaring in your kitchen. You’ve had it on loud so you couldn’t miss a call from your parents just in case.

You clumsily rush to grab it and turn the sound off. You hang up before even looking at who’s calling.

“Who is it?” he asks.

“It doesn’t matter,” you say.

“Who is it?” he says more sternly.

You look at the notification. Your lawyer. You called her after the cops found the tracker on your car to update her. You’re sure you discussed everything you needed to. What’s she doing calling at almost nine at night?

“My lawyer,” you say.

“Call her back,” he orders.

“I can do it later.”

Rafe only says your name, his mouth a firm line. You hate that he’s talking to you like this again, as if he’s mad at you for existing around him.

But he’s right. She might have some important news. Your hands are shaking as you tap on your screen to call your lawyer back on speakerphone. She answers after the first ring.

“Sorry I called so late, but I wanted to let you know,” she says, “I hounded the police and I finally just got confirmation that they took Ty into custody.”

“He was arrested?” you say. You meet Rafe’s eyes. In the midst of all this, for a second, he forgot you’ve been living in your own horror.

“Yes,” she replies. “He’s been charged with the unlawful installation of a tracking device. They traced it back to him. They don’t always arrest for a misdemeanor, but I think the fact that you already had an order out against him helped.”

“Okay,” you breathe. “Thank you.”

“Again, I’m so sorry you’re going through this,” she says. “You did the right thing fighting back. I wanted to keep you updated. Call me if you have any questions. Have a good night.”

“Thank you,” you say. “You, too.”

You hang up the phone and realize you don’t even feel a morsel of relief that Ty has been arrested. Because Rafe just dropped something so earth-shattering on you that you’re not sure you’ll ever be the same again.

You don’t even discuss the call you both just heard. You stick to your private vow. You have to. He can blame you. He can hate you. He can feel whatever he wants if it’ll ease his suffering.

“You’re right,” you say quietly. You sit down, unable to hold yourself up any longer. “You’re right. You just wanted to be a good friend. It’s my fault. I’m so sorry.”

It doesn’t feel entirely dishonest taking the blame. They were on the freeway because of you. If you and Rafe never became friends, if you never fell into his life, he’d still have a mother.

His words from earlier when this all started ring in your head. We can’t do this. This conversation? Or everything?

“It’s always going to be hard for you to be around me, isn’t it?” you ask, desperate for the clarity. Because if it’s true, it’s better you know now.

Just this morning, he said you were friends again. Then in your room, you did something people who are much more than just friends do. And now, you might be doomed to going back to being nothing. Unless he denies it. Again, hope finds its way in your heart like it always does when it comes to him.

Rafe’s stare is distant. He grips the countertop even tighter.

“I don’t know,” he says. Truthfully, he exists in two places at once when he’s with you. He feels both peace and disarray. Both bitter and sweet.

You nod slowly, standing on wobbly knees to find a paper towel to wipe your tears away with. You stand by the sink with your back to him, rubbing it beneath your eyes.

I don’t know. It’s the worst answer he could give you. At least if he gave a definitive yes or no, you’d know what the future will look like. But I don’t know is what keeps hope alive, and you know by now the pain that hope can bring.

“I’m so sorry,” you repeat, muffled. “If you never met me…”

You think back to sitting next to him in the police station waiting room. He wrote in your birthday on that form without hesitation. He didn’t even need to think about it. And you know now it’s because he’s doomed to remember that date forever.

“You don’t have to stay here,” you finally say. “You can go home. I get it. I get why you never wanted to talk to me.”

You let out a shaky sigh, regretting the years you spent trying to reconnect with him. You were unknowingly hurting him every time.

The guilt sitting on your heart is so heavy that you’re sure it’ll never leave you. While you thought he kept you at a distance because of grief, because of the role you played in reminding him, you realize that was only scratching the surface.

Rafe’s eyes are trained on you on the other side of the room, watching your body tremble.

“I’m staying,” he says resolutely. You turn to look at him from across the kitchen. His eyes gleam with tears.

“He was arrested,” you reply. “He can’t hurt me.”

Rafe studies you. You look how you did the night this all started, when you rushed to him, asking him to pretend to be your boyfriend.

“But you’re still scared,” he says.

“I think I’ll be scared for a while,” you admit. Ty is still out there. Even behind bars, he’s someone plotting to own you. You try to push past the fear for Rafe’s sake. “But he can’t hurt me.”

“I told you that I’m staying with you until your parents get back,” Rafe says.

You feel like you’re spiralling. You know he kept this from you for a noble reason, but the realization that he always blamed you feels like it’s chipping away at you by the second.

“It’s okay,” you say. “Your job is done. You don’t have to do this anymore.”

“Yes, I do,” Rafe counters. You grimace. He’s being so stubborn. The rack of guilt, shock, and confusion has your mind racing.

“Why did we do… what we did upstairs?” you ask. “Why did you say you felt something for me?”

Rafe exhales slowly. Kissing and touching you like that was euphoric. He wants that feeling, again and again, without the ugliness of your shared history following both of you.

“Because I do,” he answers honestly. You twist your lips in sadness.

“You do,” you say, “but you don’t want me in your life?”

Rafe’s quiet, his expression unreadable. Suddenly, you feel selfish and ashamed to be confronting him about this after he revealed something so painful.

“Forget it. I’m sorry,” you say. You toss the damp paper towel in the trash. “If you want to stay, you can. But if you want to go, I get it. I’ll be in my room.”

You start to tread out of the kitchen, a sniffling mess at this point. You feel worse than ever for pestering him with your questions after he opened up to you.

You’re sure you’ve both spent more time crying than smiling since you tumbled into each other’s lives again. Maybe it’s best for both of you to be nothing. It’s not what your heart wants, but being together seems to bring you both more pain than happiness.

You turn, figuring this may be your only chance to tell him how sorry you are. If tonight’s your last night together and you go back to being strangers after this, you need him to know.

“I know nothing I say or do can make it better, but I’m so sorry for everything you went through. And I’m so sorry I was the reason for it,” you say, meeting his gaze from across the room. “I never stopped missing you. But I get it. We don’t have to be friends or… be anything. We’ll go back to how it was. This time, I won’t keep bothering you.”

Rafe watches you leave. The weight in the pit of his stomach gets a million times heavier. He would do anything to take back telling you the truth.

You’re curled up in a ball under your blanket, your throat growing sore from crying. You tried to break this arrangement with Rafe off the day he told you that you were always going to remind him of what happened. You told him all you do is hurt each other.

But he pushed. He said he wanted to take care of you. You’re almost angry at him for not letting you end it then. But as painful as the truth he dropped on you tonight is, you’re glad you know.

You’d rather take the blame for him. You’d rather never have to wonder what he meant when he said you did do something wrong, but not on purpose.

But you are angry at him for kissing you. For touching you. It gave him another piece of your heart that you can never get back.

Rafe is still hunched over in the kitchen. He fucked up. You’re upstairs, devastated, because of him. Since this started, you’ve been so worried about bothering him. You said he tolerates you. And he put so much effort into making sure you didn’t feel like a burden, but he just undid it all.

The way you apologized was like you were saying sorry for existing. Whatever he had left of a heart had been wrung out. He needs a distraction. But you can’t give it to him, because it’s you he needs the distraction from.

You eventually get to a point where you can’t cry anymore. You’re numb. You spend every passing minute hoping Rafe will come into your room to try to convince you that you can make each other happy.

But he doesn’t. You fall asleep alone.

A loud bang wakes you up. Your instinct tells you it’s Ty. A few seconds later, consciousness gets a hold of you and you remember your phone call. He’s in police custody. He can’t be here.

You sit up in the dark. Another bang outside. It’s still raining but the noises aren’t rolls of thunder like a few nights ago.

Rafe didn’t leave. If he did, he would’ve needed you to disarm the security system. You check the time. It’s nearing three in the morning.

Another thud. At this point, you’re scared. You need to find him.

You’re already panting when you reach the guest room. You knock on the ajar door.

“Rafe?” you mumble.

To your relief, you hear his tired hmm? from the other side of the door.

“I keep hearing noises from outside,” you say. “I think someone might be out there.”

The bed squeaks with his weight shifting and a moment later, you hear the unmistakable sound of him pulling out and pushing in the magazine of his gun. It adds yet another layer of fear onto you.

“Where?” Rafe asks as he steps out of the room.

You guide him in the dark to the window by your bed. You watch him lean to look out the glass, the gun in his hand.

“It can’t be him, right?” you finally say with a thin voice.

Rafe’s jaw tightens. He doesn’t want to say what’s been turning in his head since you got the call from the lawyer. He didn’t want to scare you. But it’s exactly why he stayed.

“Rafe?” you say.

“Someone could’ve bailed him out,” he finally replies.

Your heart is in your throat. The stress of tonight made you completely forget about that possibility. If Ty got bail, of course his wealthy family would pay it. You feel stupid for urging Rafe to leave. And grateful that he didn’t.

“Well, if he - if he did, wouldn’t the police make sure he doesn’t try to get to me?” you ask.

“The police are idiots,” Rafe says flatly, still angry over how passively they treated you when you filed the restraining order, how thoughtless they were to not check your belongings.

“If he’s trying to get in,” you say shakily, “the alarm will go off. It automatically alerts the cops if it isn’t turned off within a minute. Please, if you… have to shoot, do it just to stop him. Don’t kill him.”

The thought of putting Rafe through watching someone else lose their life is too much for you.

He turns to look at you, barely making out your features in the moonlight shining into your room. How could possibly want to spare the life of someone so evil?

“He’s not worth it,” you say. “I don’t want it weighing on you for the rest of your life.”

Rafe looks at you in awe. Again, you put him first. In this moment, where you’re surely terrified, you’re worrying about him carrying the weight of taking someone’s life. Because he already carries that weight for his mother. And tonight, he put that weight on you, too.

“Okay,” he says. “But if he tries to hurt you, I don’t know how I’ll control myself.”

A deafening, chilling smash of glass echoes from downstairs. The shrill security alarm starts blaring. Your hand finds the crook of Rafe’s elbow as your entire body stiffens.

“Stay here,” Rafe says. “Don’t come out.”

“Be careful,” you stammer. “I’m calling 911 just to be sure.” You watch him leave as you grab your phone to report a break-in, giving the operator your address.

A few seconds later, the security system stops ringing. It’s been shut off. And you know it wasn’t Rafe who did it.

Rafe reaches the bottom of the stairs, gun pointed ahead in the dark. His eyes land on Ty, standing by the door, his hand on the security panel.

“Get the fuck out or I swear to God, I’ll shoot you,” Rafe threatens.

“I just want to talk to her,” he replies tersely.

“Get out,” Rafe repeats.

You can make out muffled conversation. You stand by your door, opening it an inch to hear what’s happening downstairs.

“Do you have any idea what I’ve been through for her? Where is she?”

It’s Ty. He actually did it. He actually found a way to get to you again. Rafe is the only thing keeping him from you right now. You feel like you could throw up from how scared you are.

“You have five seconds to leave,” Rafe says. Your ex sputters a laugh.

“Or what?” Ty reaches below the hem of his shirt. “You think you’re the only one with a gun?”

Your blood runs cold. Rafe is facing a maniac you’re sure wouldn’t hesitate to kill him. This could end in someone getting shot. Someone could die here tonight. And if it’s Rafe, you won’t be able to live with yourself.

It’s a crazy, desperate idea, but you’re confident you can manipulate Ty. You know him well. You know what he wants to hear. He’d do anything to think he can have you again. And you need to buy time before the police get here.

“Put it down,” Rafe warns.

“Is this gonna be a game of chicken?” Ty laughs again, his gun gleaming in his hand.

Your entire body is tense as you step out of your room.

“Ty?” you call out, slowly coming down the stairs. Rafe stiffens.

“I told you to not to come out,” Rafe says sternly, his eyes still on your ex.

“These are the lengths I have to go to for you, huh?” Ty calls up to you. “Just to get you to talk to me?”

It’s still dark in your home, both men just murky figures.

“I’m turning on the light,” you say, knowing that surprising Ty won’t do any good.

You reach the bottom of the staircase, standing behind Rafe, and flip the switch, washing the entrance of your home in bright lighting.

You have to stifle your gasp when you see Ty. His face is swollen from Rafe beating him up last night. His clothes are muddy from creeping around your home in the rain, finding a way in. He must have jumped the gate.

The realization that he knows the security code crashes into you. He’s surely seen you punch it in from his visits back when he was your boyfriend. You never thought he’d be committing it to memory.

This whole time, he knew it. Something you thought was protecting you wasn’t. You wish you’d thought to change the code after the break-up.

“Go back upstairs,” Rafe says, his teeth gritted.

You place a hand on Rafe’s back, out of Ty’s sight.

“Let’s talk,” you say to Ty. “Put the gun down and let’s talk.”

“You know the cops came to my house and arrested me in front of my parents?” Ty says, looking utterly unhinged. “Why the fuck did you do that to me?“

His gun is still aimed in your direction, but it’s a little lower in his shaky hand. You’re getting somewhere.

“I’m so sorry. I was scared,” you tell him.

“And you let this asshole,” Ty says, eyes darting to Rafe, “hurt me. You just fucking watched him punch me and punch me over and over and then you left. You left with him.”

“I’d do it again,” Rafe mutters. He sees pure red.

“Hey,” you whisper to him. You force your anxiety away, knowing you need to calm Ty down, not provoke him.

You drop your hand and walk past Rafe, who harshly says your name. His fingers wrap around your wrist, pulling you back. You look at him.

“Stop,” Rafe mutters to you, still holding out his gun at Ty. “Go upstairs. I’m handling this.”

“I won’t let you hurt him,” you say, loud for Ty to hear. “I don’t want you anymore.”

Rafe knows you’re trying to trick Ty to avoid anything horrible happening here tonight, but your words make everything in him twist in pain.

You pull away and approach Ty, your heart drumming against your chest. You meet his wide, frantic eyes.

“Hey,” you say softly, walking towards him. “You were right. He was just a rebound. You know me better than anybody.”

“You’re lying,” Ty mutters. But he’s lowering his gun. “You’re just a liar.”

“Ty,” you say, mustering up forced affection. You reach him, standing mere inches away. His gun is at his side now. The thought of him raising his hand again is petrifying.

“I was scared,” you continue, “but now I can see how much you care about me. It’s why I came downstairs. I heard your voice and I realized how much I miss you.”

“I just wanted to talk to you,” he says. “This whole time. And what’d you do? You got a new boyfriend. You called the cops. I - I love you. I gave you everything.”

His eyes are sharp. Poisonous. He genuinely thinks he’s done nothing wrong. To him, tracking you and taking photos of you and forcing contact with you was okay. He wants you as an object to possess. Not as a person.

“I know. Nobody can love me like you do,” you whisper, echoing the words he screamed at you when you broke up with him. “I love you. I’m sorry it took me so long to realize it. I’ve always been stupid, right?”

It’s taking everything in Rafe not to charge at Ty. If he makes one wrong move, he doesn’t think he can restrain himself from putting a bullet through his chest.

Rafe watches your hand drag down Ty’s arm and he grimaces, sure you’re rattled with fear.

“Can you put this down?” you ask, your hand stopping at his, cupping the gun. “I want you to hold me like you used to.”

“You do?” Ty says, his anger slowly disappearing from his face. Relief pools through you.

“Of course,” you reply. Your hand is shaking as you find the barrel of his gun, slowly pulling at it. “I need you. I make bad decisions when I’m not with you.”

“Yeah, you do,” Ty says, a desperate grin spreading on his face. “You finally fucking get it.”

You force a smile at him, breathing out slowly as you take the gun out of his grip.

Rafe watches with relief when he sees you holding Ty’s gun at your back.

It’s terrifying facing him, but at least there’s no gun pointed at Rafe right now. It dawns on you just how much you love him. You came down here simply to try to keep him safe. To keep him from having someone’s blood on his hands. You approached someone you’ve been running from. You put your own life in danger. Willingly.

You pull back, forcing another smile as you gaze up at Ty.

“We’re getting out of here,” Ty orders.

You look up at him, hoping he doesn’t see the fear in your eyes. There’s no way you’re going anywhere with him. You know you have a second, maybe two, to get away from him. And you can only hope it’s enough.

“Let me get my shoes,” you say, trying to laugh as if you’re excited, as if you’re endeared by him.

You move as fast as you can, kneeling to pick the gun up off the floor and rushing back towards Rafe.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Ty spits behind you.

Rafe has never been more relieved in his life than when you reach him, cowering behind him, Ty’s gun in your hands.

Maybe you should use it, but you can’t fathom trusting your aim when you’re shaking like this.

“You lying bitch!” Ty shouts, striding forward.

“One more step!” Rafe warns louder.

Ty doesn’t listen.

“Look away,” Rafe mutters to you. You curl up behind him, making yourself small, shutting your eyes.

The gunshot pierces the air, echoing through the foyer, making you quiver. You want to wake up. Because this has to be a nightmare. This can’t be real.

You hear Ty moaning in pain. Your eyes are still shut when sirens blare in the distance.

It’s a blur. People rush in. The door is left open, rain drumming on the pavement. You hear another hard thud and you realize you dropped the gun that was in your hands.

You feel Rafe turn and he’s saying something to you, but you can’t understand it. A shiny, yellow badge gleams in the light.

“…happened tonight?” a stranger asks.

“Can’t you do this another time?” Rafe mutters, irritated.

“We need a statement.” You realize the police officer is talking to you, a notepad in his hand. You meet his eyes.

“What?” you breathe.

Rafe looks down at you with furrowed brows, worried about you and pissed off that you’re being questioned.

“Can you tell me what happened tonight?” the cop says.

“Her ex broke in,” Rafe says. “He had a gun. You guys arrested him, then let him go. There’s your statement.”

The police officer sighs, keeping his eye on you.

“Have you been physically harmed?” the cops says.

You find the strength to shake your head no.

“Do you have somewhere else to sleep tonight?” he asks.

“Yes,” Rafe answers for you. “It’s better she’s not here in case you morons let him out again, right?”

The cop shakes his head in frustration, but seems to decide that not engaging with Rafe’s angry sarcasm is the better choice.

“We’ll be in touch, miss,” he says. He turns all his attention to Rafe. “Can you answer some questions?”

“Fine,” he mutters, then looks to you. “You wanna go pack?”

All you can hear is your own quick breathing as you pack an overnight bag. You’re trembling, dropping things, moving as if you’re going to be late for something.

Your house is a crime scene now. You still don’t know what happened with Ty. You couldn’t look.

It’s a few minutes past four a.m. when you reach Tannyhill. You and Rafe haven’t said anything to each other since the cops left.

The enormous house is dark and quiet as you trail him up the stairs. You know it’s irrational, but still, you fear Ty will pop out from behind a corner and try to finish the job.

Even after your harsh conversation earlier tonight, you hope Rafe will let you sleep in his bedroom. You stop in the upstairs hallway, unsure of what to do next, but his hand finds yours, leading you, making the decision for you.

Rafe’s bedsheets smells just like him, warm and strong and comforting. You’re turned on your side, your back to him, as he settles behind you.

Now that you’re lying down, you realize just how hard you’re shaking. Your body is still trying to catch up with your mind.

Rafe notices.

“It’s over,” he says, voice low. “You’re alright.”

You nod, exhaling once you feel his hand rest on your back. His fingers gently run back and forth between your shoulder blades. You find your words, finally.

“I know you had it under control,” you whisper, “but I couldn’t just sit in my room and do nothing. I was scared of him but I was more scared he’d hurt you and I knew I could trick him and I know you’re mad at me-”

“I’m not…” Rafe interrupts with a sigh. “I’m not mad at you.”

He’s mad at how unfair everything is. And at himself. He should have never told you they were in the car because of you. The conversation with you in your kitchen is another memory he knows will haunt him.

You nuzzle into Rafe’s pillow. He’s still slowly stroking your back, granting you a sense of safety.

“Listen, I won’t lie. I wish you never came downstairs,” he admits. It killed him seeing you face someone who’s been torturing you. “I didn’t know what he was gonna do. But you… you knew how to deal with him. I… Thank you. You didn’t have to do it for me.”

Your heart is still pounding. Of course you had to do it for him. You’d do anything for him.

“You’ve been looking out for me,” you say quietly. “I wanted to finally return the favor.”

Rafe chews on his lip. He’s pretty sure you take care of him more than he does you.

“What happened?” you ask. “Did you…”

“Got him in the leg,” Rafe says. “They arrested him. Again.” He would’ve killed him if you gave him your blessing to. He knows that for sure.

You nod. Your eyelids start to flutter shut. He keeps rubbing your back until he’s sure you’re asleep.

For once, you start your day next to Rafe. He didn’t leave you to wake up alone this time. He’s pressed up behind you, his arm draped over you, his hand over yours. You feel his chest rising and falling against your back.

The room is washed in orange sunlight. The clock on his nightstand tells you it’s almost noon.

You don’t know what to do from here. You promised Rafe that after this ended, you’d stop bothering him. And he didn’t tell you not to.

You look down at his hand on top of yours. Your eyes trail over his fingers, once again thinking about everything he’s done for you. He’s kept you safe, taken on responsibilities for you, given you pleasure.

Minutes later, Rafe shuffles behind you, slowly waking up. Once he realizes he’s holding you, he pulls away, clearing his throat.

You sit up and collect your bag before you go to his ensuite bathroom, not making eye contact. After texting a friend to ask if you can come over, you mentally rehearse what you’ll say to Rafe as you brush your teeth.

He’s sitting up in bed when you come out. He can see how tired you are, but you still manage to be so breathtakingly beautiful.

“Hi,” you say. You take a breath, standing over him, your bag at your chest. “There’s no way I can thank you enough. You saved my life. If I was home alone, he would’ve taken me somewhere and…”

You look down, knowing you shouldn’t spiral into the what if’s.

“After what I did to you, you still helped me,” you say, quieter now. “I know you think low of yourself, but you shouldn’t. Because of you, I’m alive right now.”

Rafe stares up at you, his hair tousled over his forehead. Only you can give him this feeling of pride in himself. This feeling that maybe he has a reason to exist other than getting wasted and taking out his anger in every way he can.

“It wasn’t all me,” he replies. “You’re tougher than you know.” You offer him a small, thankful smile.

“I’ll get Sarah to drive me to a friend’s,” you say. “And I’ll stay there until my parents get back tonight.”

You start to walk towards the door, but his words stop you.

“I never stopped missing you, either,” he says tensely, remembering your words from last night. “Just so you know.”

You look at him with doleful eyes. Rafe’s heart pounds faster when you drop your bag and approach him. You duck, pressing your cheek against his shoulder, hugging him.

He wraps his arms around you and closes his eyes until you pull back and take your warmth with you. You can both feel that this is goodbye.

You’re grateful not only because he kept you safe from Ty, but because he allowed this arrangement between you to end cordially. He opened up one last time, giving you the comfort of knowing that he still cared about you even after the accident he blames you for.

He missed you, too. It gives you a reprieve from the pain, even just for a second.

You have a long phone conversation with your lawyer when you arrive at your friend’s house. Ty’s back in custody. There’s no option for bail now. He’ll be incarcerated until the trial. Your original court date has been nullified, as a judge has granted you the permanent protective order given the circumstances.

You give your official police statement, emphasizing as many times as you can that Rafe acted in self-defence and protected you. When your lawyer confirms he isn’t being charged with anything, you’re more relieved than ever.

You’re in a haze when you finally see your parents again. Telling them everything feels like you’re recounting a horror movie.

Your home is still deemed a crime scene, so your parents book a hotel room. You’re lying in the firm, cold hotel bed when your phone buzzes with a text.

It’s from Rafe. It’s almost midnight and you saw him this morning, but it feels like it’s been weeks. You doing ok?

You reply: yes. my parents got back and we’re at a hotel. are you ok?

He doesn’t text back. You take that as a response in itself. Whatever you had is officially over.

The next afternoon, you can finally go home. The window Ty broke is repaired. You have an irrational fear of seeing his blood on the foyer floor when you walk back into your house, even after your parents confirmed with the cops that the scene has been cleaned up.

Rafe is trying to get used to the way life is now. It feels wrong not being around you. You’re all he thinks about. When he wakes up. As he goes to sleep.

He should have replied to your text. But how can he put into words just how not okay he is? He kept it under wraps for years, then opened up to you just to ruin things between you all over again.

It’s been almost a week since he’s seen you. Other Kooks are gossiping about what happened, spreading theories and lies. They know to quiet down when they realize Rafe is in earshot.

He’s not sure if people think you’re still together or not, but they seem to know better than to blabber about it when he’s around.

It’s Saturday night and people are scattered across the massive wraparound balcony facing the beach behind Tannyhill. Rafe’s preparing a line of coke, falling into his old escapist habits.

He misses you. He’s afraid things really are back to how they were. He wants to see you. He just needs to figure out how to make it happen.

It’s loud and crowded. You haven’t left your bedroom in days, but finally, you’ve stepped outside after your friends encouraged you to come to a party. It made it easier to accept the invite when you heard it was at Rafe’s house. You want to check on him, even if it’s from a distance.

You can feel people’s eyes on you when you enter the party. It’s uncomfortable, knowing your trauma is being gossiped about and picked apart.

Ty’s in jail, but sometimes that isn’t enough. You can’t get it out of your head, the way he looked when he broke in, frantic as he waved his gun around.

You’re gazing out at the setting sun as you stand on the balcony, slipping into your thoughts as your friends chatter around you.

You’re worried you’ll be afraid of your ex forever. The safest you’ve ever felt was with Rafe and that was temporary.

You instinctually look around for him. You don’t see him, but then there’s a break in the crowd, and you spot him sitting at a table, hunched over, ready to do a line.

It’s like nothing has changed. You see Rafe the way you’ve seen him throughout your adolescence, chasing a high and acting like you don’t exist. Even after everything that happened between you.

Rafe’s about to breathe in his first line of the night. Until his eyes meet yours. And then everything goes quiet.

His fear that things are how they were before is shattered. They can’t be. Because instead of looking away, he doesn’t want to tear his eyes off of you.

You think you’re giving something to him by giving him space, but you’re not. You’re taking happiness and peace and love away from him.

Your breath catches when you feel a rush of tears thickening in your throat. Your heart is broken from so many things, but it’s mostly from the role you played in breaking his.

You excuse yourself and rush into the house, hopeful nobody will see you cry. You’re not even sure where you’re going. You just know you want to be alone.

You end up in Rafe’s room, simply because it’s the only room in the house that gives you the level of comfort you’re craving. You gaze out of one of the windows as you try to calm yourself down.

You remember entering this house for the first time. His father and yours fell into conversation like old friends do and Rafe was at his mother’s side, just barely leaning on her, enough for comfort but not so much that he looked like he needed the crutch.

You kept glancing at each other while the adults talked and when he finally offered you a shy smile, you smiled back, and you don’t know if he felt it, too, but at that moment, you knew you were going to be friends.

You sit on his bed, hands on your knees as you breathe through the hurt.

The doorknob turns. Rafe flips on the light when he comes in, his eyes boring into you. You quickly wipe away your tears. He was the last person you expected to follow you.

“Hey,” he says, shutting the door. “What’s wrong?”

“Sorry,” you say. “I can go.”

“No,” Rafe says. “What is it?”

You can’t put him through the honest answer.

“Sucks how everyone’s talking about it,” you say. Truthfully, you couldn’t care less about the gossip.

Rafe squints for a moment, slowly making his way to you, settling on the bed an inch away from you, his cologne drifting in the air.

“Is that really it?” he asks. You nervously clasp your hands, looking down. He knows that’s not really it. You can see from the corner of his eye that he’s still watching you.

You don’t answer.

“I hate myself for telling you,” Rafe mumbles. You wince at his words.

“You shouldn’t. It’s better that I know.”

“It’s not.” Rafe anxiously rubs his forehead. “It sounded so fucking wrong when you said it’s your fault. When I heard you say it out loud, it…”

It turned everything inside out. All he’s been thinking about these past few days is how and when to tell you this.

“You know when you said maybe it was your fault he wouldn’t leave you alone?” he asks.

You think back to that night when you confessed how terrible your relationship with Ty had been. You had told Rafe it’s easier for you to take responsibility because then you’re not just a victim.

“I can’t let you blame yourself like that again,” Rafe says. “You were a kid.”

“You really don’t blame me?” you ask.

“I don’t.” His words take a weight off of your shoulders.

“You were a kid, too, Rafe. You can’t blame yourself, either,” you say softly. “And if anyone else does, they’re wrong.”

You can tell by the way he grimaces that he’s been made to feel guilty for it by someone else. His father. You have no doubt about it.

“It’s different,” Rafe mutters.

“It’s not,” you reply. “You’re just as innocent as I am.”

Rafe knew his mother well. He knows she spent her last moments worrying about him, regretting that she made the decision to leave the house with him. She was an amazing mother. He’s sure she died thinking she wasn’t.

“I didn’t tell her I loved her,” he says, voice starting to falter. “The last chance I had.”

Your chest tightens.

“You know how you always picked flowers for her on our way up to the house?” you say. “And how she was so happy every time you gave them to her?”

The memory makes the corners of Rafe’s lips turn up in a smile. He didn’t know you remembered that.

“You spent time getting her flowers just to make her day, over and over,” you say. “You don’t have to tell someone you love them for them to know. You showed her in a million ways. She knew. I promise.”

Rafe’s been living in an unforgiving cycle of hating the world, looking for blame, all to keep from accepting the truth that there was no sense to what happened. No reason. It just happened. And it left him in pieces.

Your words give him a quiet feeling of freedom that he hasn’t felt in a long time. The cycle is addictive and comfortable, but it keeps him moving in circles. Getting him nowhere.

Talking about his mother doesn’t hurt as bad this time. Because you brought up a good memory, and he doesn’t picture her in the car like he always does, but he sees her downstairs, pinching his cheek, smiling, putting wildflowers in a small vase.

Rafe’s eyes find yours again. All he can feel is a warm, stirring gratitude sinking into him. His lips part for a second before he can reach for the words.

“Thank you,” he says. “How’ve you been?”

“It’s hard,” you admit. “I keep thinking I’m going to run into him. We’re just waiting on the trial to start and I wish I knew what’s going to happen.”

Rafe takes a deep breath. He’s terrified of letting you hear how dark his thoughts get, but right now, he’s as sure as he can be that you’re the one person in the world who wouldn’t look at him with judgement.

“I wanted to kill him,” Rafe mutters. “I would right now if I had the chance.”

He looks at you, scared as he awaits your response. You tilt your head and gaze at him with sorrowful eyes.

“I think if someone was doing something like that to you,” you say, “I’d feel the same way.”

Rafe knew you cared about him, but to know you feel just as intensely for him as he does for you is a relief. He’s still not sure he deserves it.

“How have you been after everything?” you ask.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he says, his words rushed. “I keep wanting to text or call but I don’t know how to say it.”

“How to say what?”

“How much I regret it all,” he says. Rafe combs a hand through his hair, heeling forward, his elbows resting on his thighs. “Every single time you tried to talk to me, I was such a dick to you. I’m sorry.”

You’ve imagined him saying this, but you thought it’d always stay a daydream. As you think about everything he’s told you, about how uncontrollable his thoughts can be and how badly he needs distractions and how utterly lonely he’s been, you feel nothing but forgiveness for him.

“You know that photo I took down?” you say. He nods, picturing the image of the four of you on the beach. “What happened, happened to that little kid. I think he handled things the only way he knew how.”

Rafe sits straight, tears threatening to form. You never run out of compassion for him. You’ve always been here, reminding him he’s human and that it’s okay to hurt and to need help.

His eyes are on yours again, and this time, he’s looking at you like he did the night before he kissed you. It’s like life is returning to his features, a pink hue blooming across his cheeks.

He recalls your words from your last night together. But you don’t want me in your life?

“I want you in my life, alright?” he says. He ducks his head just a bit, looking at you with a mix of infatuation and nerves. “If you still want to be in it.”

Your lips quiver with an endeared frown as you gaze at the multifaceted, complex, passionate man sitting in front of you.

“I do,” you say. Because the past few weeks have been so stressful, all you want right now is clarity. “You mean as a friend?”

“No,” Rafe scoffs, a smile quirking on his face again. “No. If you want that, we’ll do that. But I want more. Please tell me I didn’t fuck this up.”

You gaze at him through your lashes, feeling like you might just melt at the soft way he’s looking at you and speaking to you.

“Believe me,” Rafe says, “that I’ll be different. For real, this time. I don’t…” He sighs. “I never want you feeling like you’re bothering me. It’s the opposite. Every minute I’m not with you is just… it’s hell.”

He licks his lips from nervousness. He doesn’t like that you haven’t said anything yet.

“What are you thinking?” he asks.

You smile at him, bringing your hand to his, feeling that his knuckles have completely healed now. This right here is the moment you think you might be able to let go of the fear and instability and pain that’s existed between you for so long.

“I want more, too,” you tell him. He looks at you with furrowed brows almost like he’s in pain, like waiting for this has actually been hurting him.

Rafe hopes his impatience to kiss you isn’t too much for you when he leans forward, laying his lips to yours, but you meet him with the same hunger.

He holds you, cupping your cheek, stroking your skin with his thumb as your lips weave together. His tongue runs against yours and you raise your hands, one resting on the crook of his neck while the other runs over his hair.

With a quiet moan of pure desire, Rafe kisses harder, moving even closer to you so that your eyelashes overlap.

He separates to close his lips on your neck, trailing hot, desperate kisses over your throat. Then, Rafe’s fingers rest on your hips, fingertips dipping under your shirt.

“Can I take this off?” he asks huskily.

“Yes,” you breathe.

The slowly burning flame between you has sparked into a wildfire now. You feel the fabric of your top slowly dragging up your body, making you dizzy.

Rafe watches in awe as he pulls your shirt off you, all of his senses going hot when he watches the way your chest is rising and falling, the way your bra looks pushed against your body. He dips to kiss your neck again as he holds you at your waist.

“Tell me if I’m going too fast,” he whispers, “or if I need to stop.”

“Don’t stop,” you whisper back. Your hand drags over his hard jaw to pull him up to your lips again. Rafe is intoxicated by this feeling, by the promise of pleasure, by the pure joy of being wanted.

Your lips quietly smack together as his fingers skim up the side of your body, over your shoulder, down the line of your bra strap, finally wandering over your chest.

He massages you gently, earning breathy moans from you. With eyes still shut, you find the top button of his shirt, pulling it out of its loop slowly.

Your kisses grow even more impatient as you unbutton his shirt, moving down his chest, finally reaching the bottom. Your fingers slip under his collar, pushing his shirt down his shoulders.

Once Rafe’s shirt is on the floor, he leans against you, gently guiding you onto your back on his soft bed, still kissing you. You run your hands down the firm curve of his back, making him shudder into your mouth.

His fingers dip under your bra strap, feeling desperate to see you. His forehead presses against yours as he pulls back.

“Is this okay?” he rasps.

You nod and your breath hitches when he pulls the strap down over your shoulder and dips to kiss where it sat. His groin already feels so tight that it hurts.

Slowly, he lowers to kiss the valley between your breasts, making your heart pound even harder. When he finally pulls down the cup of your bra, seeing you bare draws a stunned, sharp intake of breath from him.

You rake your hand through his hair when you feel his hot mouth on you. You moan softly and the sound of you revelling in the pleasure he’s giving you puts him in an even deeper daze.

Rafe cups your waist and drags his hands to your back. You arch to give him just enough space to unhook your bra, and once he has full access to your chest, you shut your eyes as his tongue and hands roam over you.

He leaves wet kisses all over your chest and comes back up to capture your lips again. His movements are languid as he rests his hand between your legs and suddenly, your clothes feel suffocating. You’ve never needed someone more.

Rafe drags his fingers over you, pressing in gentle circles. You spread your legs wide as he hovers over you, holding himself up on his elbow.

His eyes are on you, full of lust and want, imagining how you’ll taste if you let him go that far. He sinks to dip his fingers beneath the band at your hips, pulling the clothing down your legs, taking his time.

He settles over you again, putting his hand back where it was, and even though there’s still one more layer of fabric to strip, he can feel you so much better.

You whimper as he drags his fingers over you, and then he lowers again, his head between your legs.

You meet Rafe’s gaze when he kisses you right over your panties, and the intimacy, the pure vulnerability thickens the air even more.

“Can I?” he mumbles, his breath warm. You nod in desperation.

He slides the last piece of clothing you have on off of you, and when his eyes drink you in, his heart pounds loud in his ears.

“You’re beautiful,” he says, dipping to kiss your inner thighs before finally tasting you. You breathe out shakily as his tongue curls against you, as his hands hook around the tops of your thighs, resting on your hips.

Your whole body is hot and trembling as he kisses and sucks and licks, worshipping every bit of you.

Rafe can’t get enough of you. He just started and he already dreads the thought of stopping.

Your hands sit on his and he squeezes your fingers as he buries his face against you, holding both your hands, gazing up to see the bliss written in your pretty features.

He shifts to bring one of his hands where his mouth is, gliding over you, working both on you to bring you to a mind-blowing climax that leaves you moaning.

Rafe holds himself up over you again, kissing you, letting you taste yourself, as you eagerly unbutton his jeans. He helps you pull his pants down and when you grip him over his boxers, he nearly whimpers in need.

You stroke slowly, your hand wrapped around him, the other pushing against his bare chest to gently lead him to lie on his back.

You drag his boxers down, looking at him with pure arousal. His face is twisted in pleasure when you put your mouth on him, tasting him, taking him in completely.

He couldn’t take his eyes off you if he tried. You slowly pick up your pace and he knows if you go any longer, he won’t last.

“Can we…” he rasps. You’re trembling in anticipation, already knowing what he’s asking.

You shift higher, resting on your knees, your bare bodies pressed together as you kiss him.

You lower your hand, holding him, dipping against him to just barely meet each other. It’d take just one buck of your hips to feel him inside you.

“You sure?” he asks.

“Yes. Are you?”

“Yes,” he groans. “Go as slow as you need to.”

You nod, shuddering as you position yourself and slowly sink onto him. You moan in unison at the sensation of your bodies meeting this way.

When you finally take all of him in, you pause to revel in the feeling, breathing heavily, your cheeks brushing.

“I love you,” Rafe says, his deep voice weaved with awe.

You pull back to look at him, not sure if you heard him right. You take in the color of his eyes and the beauty of his edges and your heart has never felt like it was glowing until this very moment.

“I love you, too,” you half-whisper. He almost can’t come to grips with the fact that you said it back with such certainty. Like you have no doubt that he has a place in your heart.

You roll your hips, taking your time to adjust to him. His hands are at your waist as he enjoys the slow ecstasy of your warmth.

You hug him tightly as you slowly move up and down. Eventually, you can feel him tensing beneath you, and you want to give him the control to reach the pace he needs.

You lift off of him, kissing him before you shift onto your back. He doesn’t waste any time to settle over you, slowly pushing into you again.

You’ve always worn your heart on your sleeve for Rafe, while he’s kept his caged. He thought he didn’t even have one anymore. But you remind him that he does have this side of him, that it still exists, that he wants to give all of it you.

“I love you,” he rasps again. “I love you. I love you.”

Bliss overwhelms you as you tenderly kiss his forehead. He gently rocks forward and back, filling you perfectly as his thrusts slowly quicken.

“You’re everything to me,” he whispers into your ear. “I love you.”

“I love you,” you say, wrapping your legs around him. His breaths quicken as he moves faster, writhing over you into a climax that makes him groan.

Your bodies are glistening with sweat, your breaths heavy. Rafe’s weight doesn’t leave you as he collapses in pleasure.

“Is it okay if I stay like this?” he asks.

“Yes,” you breathe. His face is nuzzled into your neck, panting as he breathes you in, still inside you, living in this perfect moment with you.

Rafe has felt homesick since he can remember. Even within the walls of his own bedroom. But you and the feeling you give him are home. Safety with no exceptions, love with no conditions.

“What’d I do to deserve you?” he mumbles against your skin.

“Exist,” you say with a gentle laugh.

Rafe plants lazy kisses against your neck as you hold him, slowly coming back to reality. There’s a whole party happening in his house, but in his world, it’s only you and him.

When he gets up, he isn’t prepared for how empty he feels when he loses the feeling of you wrapped around him. You lie next to him, facing each other with tired smiles.

“How was it?” he asks. The question sends you into a fit of laughter.

“You heard me, right?” you say, almost embarrassed from the sounds you made.

Rafe smirks and moves even closer to you, kissing you as you both lie on his pillow. You rest your palm on his face, gently tapping at the deep dimple in his cheek with your finger.

“You should show these more often,” you say.

“What?”

“Your dimples.”

He laughs, thinking to himself that he’ll do anything you want him to if you’ll keep loving him. He’s drunk on the feeling of the simplicity of being with you. It’s easy and pure.

Rafe asks if you want to shower together, and soon, you’re in his ensuite, standing under hot water ebbing over your skin.

Every movement between you is a slow expression of love, your bodies curved together as you share kisses and hold each other.

At one point, he’s clinging onto you, his lips pressed on your shoulder, and you’re holding him like you did the night in your house when he finally opened up completely.

Rafe is overcome by every emotion he’s feeling and it’s the first time in years that he cries without urging himself to stop. Because you’re here and you know everything and you still don’t want to leave.

You hold each other in bed wearing nothing but towels. He asks you if you want to go back out to the party and is relieved when you tell him you don’t.

“I’m falling asleep,” you eventually say, your legs tangled with his as he holds you. “I should go home.”

“No,” he says. “Why? Stay. Sleep here.”

You text your parents that you’re sleeping over. You know they’ll assume you’re staying in Sarah’s room, since you’ve done it so many times.

After you put your phone on Rafe’s nightstand, you snuggle into him, your head resting on his shoulder. You yawn, getting goosebumps from the way his fingers trail up and down your arm.

“Need a distraction?” you ask.

“No,” Rafe replies tiredly. For once, his mind isn’t racing. The mix of chaos and calm he thought he felt with you is no longer a mix at all. It’s just calm. It’s just peace.

You wake up in Rafe’s arms, feeling his heartbeat against your cheek and his breaths on the top of your head. It feels unreal recounting last night, remembering the amount of times he told you he loves you.

You shift slowly to get out of bed, putting on your bra and underwear and slipping into his bathroom. He’s sitting up in bed when you come back out. His eyes immediately trail down your body, a smile growing on his face.

“What?” you ask.

“You’re just…” Rafe exhales, resting his arm out on the bed in a way to beckon you to come back. “Perfect.”

“You mean as a friend?” you joke. You settle back into bed on your knees as he chuckles.

“Fuck no,” he answers, making you laugh. “Do you have to leave?”

“I don’t,” you say. Your body warms when you see the relief on his face. Now that you’ve sealed the rift that lived between you for so long, you can see just how badly Rafe wants you around.

But it doesn’t feel like a dream anymore. This feels right. Like you were meant to be with him all along.

“Would you wanna go down to the water?” you ask.

He nods. It’s like your kids again; he’d go anywhere you want just to see you smile.

It’s a windy morning by the sea. The sun is covered by clouds as you sit on the private beach next to Rafe. He drapes an arm around you, rubbing your arm to keep you warm. He feels like now that he’s been given permission to touch you, he can’t stop.

“The hours we spent out here,” you mumble. Rafe gazes at your profile as you look out at the horizon.

The dark blue sea makes you think of all the possibilities, of everything to come. You turn to catch him staring.

“I didn’t…” Rafe gently shakes his head. He didn’t know this was possible. “You know how people say they can feel someone around them after they… after they die?”

You nod. He feels guilty as hell with what he’s about to say.

“I never did,” he admits. Your face drops in shock and sadness. You can’t imagine how lonely he’s felt. “But right now, it’s like… it’s like she’s about to call us up to eat. I can feel her here.”

You feel like your heart is whole and broken at the same time. You lean to kiss his cheek over and over, the waves crashing in the distance.

“I need to stop trying to forget her,” Rafe says sadly.

He glances down at the sand, and you can tell anxiety is starting to grip him. You take a deep breath before you speak.

“I think she’d understand why you did,” you say. “What do you think about getting her flowers?”

Blue eyes find yours. He hasn’t visited her grave in years. If he does today, he’ll need you with him.

“Yeah,” he says simply, dusting the sand off his jeans as he heads to the patch of grass by the boardwalk.

The cemetery is quiet and tranquil. You drove over on his motorcycle, holding onto him tighter than you needed to. Your shoes pad over the paved walkway, feeling more and more nervous as you approach where she rests.

The headstone isn’t as big as Rafe remembers, but he figures it’s because he was much smaller when he visited last. He starts to cry as soon as he sees the photo of her in the center of the plaque. He forgot that was there.

Tears burn your eyes when you watch him slowly drop to his knees, his hands splayed on the lush grass.

You read the epitaph over and over again. When love is eternal, life cannot die.

Rafe forgot that he was holding the flowers he picked and he realizes he broke some stems, but when he looks at her photo again, he puts the flowers right at the corner of the headstone, knowing she was always happy with any bouquet he gave her, no matter the condition.

You sink beside him, resting a hand on his back.

“Should I talk?” he stammers. “I don’t know what to do.”

“You do whatever feels right,” you reply.

“Can you talk?” he asks.

“Yes,” you say. You’ve been yearning to talk like this with him for years. “You know you have her smile?”

“Really?”

“Yes,” you say. “It’s one of the reasons I love seeing you happy.”

Rafe nods, a tear dripping off his chin. He needs you to keep talking.

“And I remember she was always winking at me,” you say. “I don’t know if you saw.”

“She did that because she knew I had a crush on you,” Rafe mumbles. You smile sadly, rubbing his back.

“I’m pretty sure she knew I had one on you, too,” you say. “She was so smart and so sweet. Everyone could see how much she loved being your mom.”

Rafe offers you a grateful smile.

“I miss her,” he says, his voice brittle.

“Me, too,” you reply. “I’m sorry. I can go back to the parking lot if you want?”

You’re offering to give him time alone here. And to his surprise, he nods. He can do this. You kiss his temple and give him the moment he needs.

Rafe is sitting in silence for a minute before he finds the words. He stares at her photo.

“I’m sorry I made you drive that night,” he mumbles. “I’m sorry I always got mad at you when you called me your baby. I just wanted to grow up and you told me to enjoy being young and you were right.”

He clears his throat.

“I’m sorry I dug myself into a hole and tried to forget you. But I think she’s right. You’d understand.”

He cracks a small smile, remembering when he first told his mom he liked you, how nervous and giddy he felt.

“Still want to marry her,” he says. He can hear the way she laughed when her ten-year-old son told her he hoped you’d be his wife one day, but he’d still want to live at home so he’d beg for you to move in. “She never left my side, mom. I gave her every reason to but I think she saw how much I was hurting.”

Rafe promises her he won’t let so much time pass before he visits again. And when he finds you standing by his bike, he holds you so tightly that he feels your heart beating against his.

Everything is different for him now. He hasn’t had the comfort of permanence in his life for a long time. He can’t believe you want him, even after you’ve seen the worst of him.

Rafe never takes his hands off of you. At every party, on every date, he always has to be touching you in some way to remind himself that he has you for real.

It takes a few tries, but he manages to quit coke. And eventually, he quits waiting for the other shoe to drop, waiting for you to decide he isn’t worth the effort.

He’s with you every step of the trial. The lawyer says Ty getting five years in prison is a win, but he thinks the only win would be a life sentence.

Eventually, the trauma loses its power over you. You feel safe. Not because your ex is locked up, but because Rafe is with you.

You stand by him for everything. Every breakdown he has, every time he sinks into his grief, every storm that reminds him of the worst night of his life. You never leave.

You love him for long enough that he finally believes if someone as amazing as you can see something in him, it must be there.

Epilogue

You didn’t ask for much for the wedding. One thing that you were sure about was that you wanted an event artist, someone to paint the day on a canvas to capture it in a unique way.

Rafe is happy to to along with it, but then again, he’s like that with everything when it comes to you. You could never ask too much from him. He’ll forever feel like he owes you for never giving up on him.

The banquet hall is massive and beautifully decorated, and you can hardly hear your own thoughts over the crowd’s chatter and elegant music. The day has been a whirlwind.

When the artist waves you over, you take Rafe’s hand.

“Want to see the painting?” you ask.

“Yeah,” he says, beaming at you simply because of how excited you are.

You had secretly asked the artist to include Anne in the painting. When your eyes land on the canvas, seeing her drawn in with everyone else who stood at the altar warms your heart.

You look up at Rafe, whose mouth is just slightly agape. He stares at his mother’s image, smiling behind him, then looks down, scratching the back of his neck and finding your hand before he leads you away.

“Just a second,” you say to the artist before you let Rafe take you to a dressing room past the hallway.

He shuts the door behind you, facing you with glossy eyes.

“Did I mess up?” you say worryingly. “I’m so sorry. I wanted to surprise you. I thought you’d like it.”

“Hey,” Rafe says softly, hands on your cheeks. “I love it. I just didn’t want to cry in front of everyone. I’ve been barely keeping it together today.”

You laugh in relief, tipping your chin so he’ll kiss you. His lips meet yours. You’re pretty sure your guests could tell he got teary-eyed when he watched you walk down the aisle, but you’ll spare him that detail.

Rafe finds relief from your touch, like always. His mom was here today. He felt it. He feels her all the time now. And you’re still a reminder, but in the best possible way, because you show him that he can remember the good parts. That he can feel love even after someone’s left. That he doesn’t need to carry guilt. That he can look forward to the future.

Apart from the second he became your husband, this is the best moment you’ve had today, because it’s just you two, just like it was when you were kids on the beach, enjoying each other’s company, never wanting to part.

(the end) (continuation blurbs)

author’s note thank you to everyone who stuck with this series 💘 ps did you know tumblr has a text block limit? learned that the hard way lmao. so i’m sorry that some paragraphs got long! hated to sacrifice my structure but had to do it to keep all 10k+ words in 😋

#this is about 10k+ words so get cozy 🤭#rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron and you #rafe cameron and reader #rafe cameron and y/n

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moonstruckme · 10 days ago

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hiiiii mae!! hope ur having a good day/night, i was wondering if you would do a emt!marauders (or just remus) fic with a reader who maybe has past medical trauma or something so she really hates going to the doctors and avoids unplanned visits at all costs and one day she gets hurt doing something and she tells herself she’s fine but she’s really not (maybe she has like a concussion or something) and she tries to tell the boys she’s okay and she doesn’t need to go to the hospital but they’re like “yes you do u literally don’t know what day it is” and she kinda starts freaking out and they comfort her????

so sorry if you’ve done something like this you’ve written a LOT of fics (which is amazing i love them all) and i haven’t gotten the chance to read them all yet! anyways hope you have a great day i love ur fics so much!!!!!!

Thank you for your request, love you <3

cw: concussion, hospital mention, implied medical fear/past trauma

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 770 words

“This is supposed to be the sort of thing that only happens to old ladies,” Sirius mutters. “Look at James, dollface.”

James’ smile is encouraging. “He knows he’s full of shit. We see people fall in showers all the time, it’s not an age thing. You don’t have to be geriatric for soap to be slippery.”

You know, distantly, that they’re both trying to keep things light for your benefit, but their playacting isn’t helping you. You feel trapped, backed into a corner, and your lovely boyfriends who only want the best for you feel like your captors.

Sirius clicks off the light he was shining in your eyes just as Remus comes back with your clothes. They exchange a look you don’t like.

“Here, sweetheart, put this on.” Remus helps you get a sweatshirt over your head, extra careful to hold the collar away from the aching bump on the back of your head.

You stand from the bed bemusedly as he starts putting your sweatpants on for you, too. You don’t love the vibe of all this coddling, either; the boys are usually only this delicate with you when they’re very concerned, very pitying, or both.

“What’s going on?” you ask, though you already know. It’s not as if you would usually hang about in your towel all night after a shower, but they’re getting you dressed for a reason.

James’ brows twitch together sympathetically. Sirius’ voice is gentle. “Baby, we need to go get your head looked at.”

Your upset blooms fast and hot, tears choking you. “Why?”

“You have a concussion, sweet girl. It seems fairly bad already, and it could get worse.”

“But you’re…you always say hospitals can’t even do anything for those.” You know you sound childish, whiny and difficult, but you can’t help yourself. Your boyfriends don’t seem to hold it against you. James rubs your arm while Remus pulls your socks on with sweet, lingering touches. A tear squeezes out of your eye. “Why do I have to go?”

“You’re right, there’s not much they can do,” says Remus. His voice is calm and even, a balm to your frazzled nerves. “But a concussion can be dangerous, and without tests we won’t know how dangerous it is or if there’s anything they can help with.”

“That’s all we’re going for, angel,” James says lightly. “Just some tests. It won’t take terribly long, and we can stay with you most of the time.”

You’re hardly hearing him, shaking your head despite the way it aches. More tears crest your cheeks, your breaths wet and quick. “Can’t we wait and go tomorrow?”

“Oh, sweetheart.” James takes your hand, squeezing your fingers. “We can’t, my love, but it’s going to be okay.”

“I really can’t.” You pull your hand from his, wiping underneath your eyes. Your hair is still wet from the shower, cold seeping into your fresh sweatshirt. “I can’t do it. Please don’t make me.” Your voice chokes into a quiet squeak on the last few words.

Remus coos and sits beside you on the bed, wrapping you up in a hug. You cry into his shoulder as he rocks you gently, murmuring against the side of your head. “Please,” you try again.

He holds you closer. “I know, darling.” His voice is a low whisper. “I know it’s hard for you, and I know it’s scary, but we’ll be there with you. It’s not going to be as bad as you’re thinking. What we’re going for is really very simple, and Sirius can explain it to you on the way, hm? You’ll be alright.”

When you calm some, he goes to warm the car, passing you off to Sirius and James to get your shoes on.

“Nothing’s gonna happen to you, baby,” Sirius promises, kissing the shell of your ear as he walks you outside. His arm is heavy around your shoulders and James is quick to take your hand after locking the door behind you, bolstering you for what’s ahead. “You think we’re gonna let you get hurt? This is going to be the easiest hospital visit you ever had. We run this place, they’ll have us in and out.”

“I wouldn’t say we run it,” Remus says drily as you three pile into the backseat. “More like we engage with it, in twelve hour shifts, four to five times a week.”

“But we do have lots of friends,” James chips in.

“Exactly.” Sirius busies himself with wiping the last of your tears while James gets your seatbelt on. “Like the radiographer at Bellevue. You’ll see, baby. We’ve got you covered.”

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pearlymel · 4 months ago

Text

Make up— Alhaitham

*･゜ﾟSummery : Alhaitham chased after you because he refuses to leave unresolved issues between you, talking it out in his house can't be the worst idea, right?

Wc : 2.4k

Warning(s) : NSFW, fem!reader, exes to lovers, reader has committment issues, biting, unprotected sex, ōral (m! recieving), cūm swallowing, creampie, it's sweet and he's needy, petname mentioned (sweetheart).

Notes : someone get this man out of my head smh.

It was a cowardly act, really. How you ran away in the middle of breaking up with your boyfriend—well, ex boyfriend now. If he even got the message and was not left confused with a hurricane swirling his head with different emotions all at once.

You never wanted to break up with him in the first place, you were ignorant to his feelings. Overall sensitive to everything. You think the scribe deserves better than what you have to offer because you are afraid of commitment.

Alhaitham thinks he caught a glimpse of your face and figure among the crowd. And his body immediately goes on flight mode.

Eyes rapidly looking around the crowd, unable to focus on how busy it was today. He can't even remember why today has to be so busy out of all the days, then it clicked.

Sabzeruz festival was around the corner.

Alhaitham pushes past the people, his eyes searching around him for any sign of you at all, but he doesn’t see you. He starts moving a little faster, a little more impatiently.

“Move.” He nearly growls lowly when someone is in his way, pushing past them and looking around some more, ignoring the curses being thrown at the scribe.

Where are you, where are you?

There.

There you were. Standing next to one of the stalls to buy yourself a cold drink for this hot weather. Looking completely unbothered, yet he could clearly see how swollen your under eyes looked.

After a moment, he finally starts to approach you, his eyes fixated on you, unable to look away even for a second.

He stops next to you, standing right beside you and so incredibly close. He can smell the flowery scent of your perfume, and he’s so close he can practically touch you, but Alhaitham doesn’t dare to move.

You don't notice the man next you who's suspiciously close right away, but when you do turn your head to your side. A gasp leaves your lips and your drink instantly drops from your hand, his own hand acted on it's own, grabbing your wrist to pull you back. To prevent from the liquid to splash all over you.

"Careful." He gently scolds you, yet his hand is slightly shaking from feeling your skin against his. It was always comforting.

"Alhaitham?" He feels how your fingers tremble under his touch, and he feels how you look around, probably searching for a way to get away from him. Again.

“I just want to talk.” he states, his voice a soft, gentle tone that belies how he actually feels.

He’s itching to pin you against the nearest wall and tell you all the things he’s been thinking so hard about, but he controls himself.

"We already talked."

“You ran.” He replies back in disagreement, his voice a tone rougher than he intended it to be. He takes a deep breath before he continues, hoping you would notice the pain behind his words.

“We can’t keep going in circles like this, we need to talk this out properly.”

You only sigh back, your gaze shifting down to your feet. "We already broke up."

Oh he’s about to snap. He’s about to rip his goddamn hair out.

“We didn't break up.” He huffs out, and his tone is harsh and frustrated because he still refuses to believe that you don’t want him to be a part of your life anymore.

“You’re the one who ran away.”

"I get it, I'm a coward."

Archons, he hates the way you keep belittling and insulting yourself. Alhaitham can feel the anger and frustration beginning to build in him, but he’s trying his best to keep his voice level and not to start yelling at you in the middle of the market.

“Stop that, please." He begs you in a pleading tone, the pads of his thumb rubbing slow circles around your wrist.

“You’re not a coward, so stop calling yourself one.”

"I ran instead of fixing things. What do you call that?" You hiss at him, but there you go again, being overly sensitive and insulting yourself at every inconvenience.

"... Sorry."

His grip on your hand slightly tightens when you try to apologize, and he has to fight back a sigh before he can force himself to answer.

“I’d call it a ‘poor coping mechanism’.” He replies, his tone flat and almost sarcastic.

You look up at him apologetically, He can see that you’re about to say it again, but thankfully, you bite down on your tongue to keep yourself from doing so. And he’s a little grateful, he doesn’t know how much more he can take.

Alhaitham sighs in exhaustion, and he reaches up a hand to run it through his hair before he speaks again.

“We need to talk. Not here, somewhere.. private.”

Private. Surely private meant some secluded corner or outside where no people would be close enough to listen?

So why were you in his home? With Him hugging you so tightly from behind because he misses you?

“Don’t move.” He lowly mumbles against your hair when he feels you trying to wiggle away.

He squeezes his arms around your body, pulling you even closer against his chest, as close as he physically can, like he’s trying to meld your bodies together completely.

"I hurted you, didn't i?"

He lets out a low huff in your hair at your statement, a soft yet bitter sounding laugh. It hurts more than he’d like to admit, because you did hurt him, deeply.

“Yes.” He replies truthfully, not making any effort to lie to you. “You left and it hurt.”

It’s like a dream, like a vision, having you so close again after days of solitude and loneliness. After hours and days of missing you.

He takes in every feature of your face when he turns you around to face him, every inch of your eyes, your nose, your lips. The shape and contour of your face is etched into his head, all memorised. and he can’t get enough of it, and he wants so badly to pull you into another one of his bone-crushing hugs again.

"I'm sorry for hurting you. I never intended to break up." Your hand lifts up to brush the strands of grey hair away from his eyes before gently holding one side of his face.

"I swear." You look at him with determination, then you remember the words he wants to hear so badly.

"You're my lover," you say, "i need you in my life."

Alhaitham leans down to bury his face into the crook of your neck, and he just breathes in the familiar scent of your skin again. So impossibly relieved that you’re here in his arms again.

"Will you forgive me?"

“Can you promise me that you won’t run away again if we have a fight?” His hands start trailing up the length of your back, the tips of his fingers tracing the bumps of your spine as he speaks, his lips moving against the skin of your neck with every word.

“Don’t run away, talk to me. We’ll talk, and we’ll come up with a solution together.”

"Mhm, i promise." He feels you melt into his embrace, completely surrendering yourself under his touch, and he lets himself revel in the feeling of his body pressed against yours once again. It’s like his brain went completely empty of any thoughts, just leaving pure contentment and a feeling of comfort behind. And so, he lets his body do the thinking for him.

Alhaitham grabs a hold of your thighs in one strong grip, and he lifts you, effortlessly hoisting you up into his arms, and you gasp.

He hoists you up against his chest until your legs are wrapped around his hips, one of his arms curled around your thighs, and the other under your ass, supporting your weight as he starts carrying you to the bed.

One of your hands grabs at his shoulders to keep your balance, and he can’t resist smiling a little when he sees the surprised look on your face.

“Don't worry.” He reassures you, he reaches the bed with several long strides, and his grip around your thighs tightens as he lays you down on the mattress.

"I want to make it up to you," you look at him through half-lidded eyes the moment you lay down, your knee attempting to slowly rub at his growing erection, earning a hiss from him.

"Y-you don't have to, i was just planning that we cuddle—"

"Then why are you hard?" You see how his Adam's apple bobs as he swallows thickly, and he avoids your gaze shyly.

He sits on his knees above you as he watches how your start unzipping his pants, urging him to come closer until his knees were at the sides of your head as you're met with his leaky tip face to face.

It's intimidating, you forget just how big he was. You gently wrap a hand around the base, giving the tip a few kitten licks before your lips grip him snugly and your tongue flicks against the underside of his cock, coaxing low curses from the Scribe.

He can't look down, he doesn't want to. Your expressions gets him off so fast everytime, and when you cough, he involuntarily grips your hair, although still careful to not pull so harshly even when be wanted to so bad.

Alhaitham’s need increases, so is his pace. The desire to cum growing more and more insistent. He bites his lower lip, his grip on your head tightening. “Goddammit,” he manages to groan, head thrown back with his expression all fucked out as he thrusts slowly into your mouth. He brings a fist to cover his mouth to prevent himself from whimpering, to prevent himself from panting so needly like a dog,

“You’re going to make me cum.” You're doing good, better than good, he doesn’t want to rush, but he can feel the implosion building. It's about to go off, and there’s no stopping it.

But when he feels you suck him so eagerly, it makes him part his lips to moan with his eyes closed, grabbing a fistful of your hair and thrusting into your throat greedily to chase his orgasm, the vibrations of your moans is what makes Alhaitham's try to pull out from your mouth, but your tight hold around him makes him fail to do so before he spilled all of his spent into your tongue.

Although he was quick to pull out after, grabbing a tissue from the bedside drawer for you to spit out.

But when you gulp it all in front of him, his eyes widen, the tissue almost slipping from his hand. He doesn’t know what to say or feel, "You didn't have to," He wipes the corner of your lips with the tissue, dabbing your lips clean.

"i love you." You utter out, looking like an absolute angel right before his eyes. "I love you," he repeats back, pecking your lips before pushing you back gently on the bed, prying your legs apart.

Your pants and panties were quick to be discarded to the side, he stares at your entrance, wet, inviting, and a little intimidated by the size he's about to shove inside.

He gently strokes your inner thighs, kissing your outer folds, tasting your arousal, while his thumb rubs circles around your clit. He hums when you gasp, when both of your gazes meet and all he sees his eagerness in your eyes.

Your body squirms, urging him to take you, spearing that tightness with his girth. But he's patient. Oh, how patient he is. Or trying to be, at least.

Alhaitham lines himself up with your hole, and as he looks down at you, you can see the yearning, the want, the need in his eyes.

He keeps a tight hold on your thighs as he slowly, deliberately sinks into you, watching the arch of your back, listening to the low, whimpering sounds escaping your lips.

His mouth is on your neck and collarbone, nipping, kissing, leaving marks of his claim on your skin, "missed my girl,"

Your body is tight around him, and it's not easy, but the Scribe has no intention of stopping until he's had his fill. The gasps and whimpers of discomfort, the pleasure that comes after, the lust—it’s all music to his ears.

"I-i've missed you too."

Alhaitham watches as you cling to him, the words you say stirring something in him. He hands grip on your hips now, and he can't help but smile into your neck.

He's thrusting into you deeper, the feeling of your tightness around him driving him wild. It's a sweet, torturous dance you both share. Every time he thrusts, he's sure to hit the right spot, making you moan and squirm.

He lifts his head to kiss you, kissing you with fervor, his tongue dueling with yours. He could taste the bitter remnants of himself on your tongue, but he wants to taste you, feel your pleasure, and with the way your walls are clenching around his cock, he won't have to wait much longer.

Alhaitham's thrusts become faster, harder, and he can feel the familiar heat building. His hand leaves your hip, and his fingers find your clit in a synchronization of the cries of his name. He's determined to make you come.

"Cum for me, sweetheart," he growls into your ear. "Let me feel it." He wants to watch you unravel in his arms, to see the expression on your face.

And you do, almost instantly, it makes your eyes roll back to the back of your head as you hold onto him while thrusting your hips back into him.

Not long after, he couldn't hold back any longer. It’s too much, the tightness around his cock, the sight of your body trembling beneath him, the taste of your lips, the scent of you. He explodes, filling you up, his seed a testament to the pleasure he’s found.

He collapses on top of you, panting, his heartbeat racing. The room is filled with the sound of their ragged breathing, and in that moment, there’s nothing but the two of them, basking in their shared pleasure.

After a while, Alhaitham slowly pulls out of you, his eyes hold yours, the two of you naked and tangled, laying in sweat. He moves his body off yours to clean you both up. He’ll make some tea, something to calm your nerves, then you'll talk for real this time.

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact smut #genshin alhaitham #genshin al haitham #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #alhaitham smut #al haitham x reader #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham #al haitham #alhaitham x you #al haitham smut

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sanakiras · 3 months ago

Text

TIDAL WAVE OF LOVE

PAIRING — choi seungcheol x reader

WORD COUNT — 1.3k

SYNOPSIS — even the strongest of people break sometimes. you’re used to hiding your feelings; your boyfriend is there for you when everything gets too much.

TAGS — angst, self-esteem issues, fear of failure, mc has a bit of a breakdown :(( but also a lil comfort

NOTE — cleaning out the drafts! this is wayyyy shorter than my usual works but i still felt like posting it <3 i had a very stressful semester in uni before the summer break and i came across this video on twt of coups giving wonwoo a little comforting squeeze which i found very endearing sooo that kinda became the inspo for this!

the moment he calls out a greeting to you from his kitchen, you close your eyes for a moment. it would’ve probably been wiser to have gone home instead of his place.

you greet him the same way, hoping he doesn’t hear the crack in your voice.

“how was your day?” he asks you once he’s returned to the living room, giving you a kiss.

you press your lips together. “fine. nothing special.”

the first thing he notices is the lack of eye contact you make with him. you’re also being considerably less touchy with him than usual, which he finds strange.

“everything okay?”

“yeah.” you put up a smile that doesn’t appear genuine in the slightest.

he figures you could just be in a bad mood — but that doesn’t seem to be the case.

he knows for a fact that it’s not with the way you’re trying real hard to hide your face from him. you only do that when you’re upset about something.

“baby, talk to me.”

“about what?”

the response comes out snappier than you meant it to. you two have been together quite a while — so he’s come to know that you tend to get a little colder and distant before the dam breaks.

you look at him so briefly to the point where he’d miss the motion if he blinked. the expression equals a silent apology.

of course he always does his best to give you whatever space you need. that being said, he’s also come to know you get into your own head a lot, and sometimes there’s someone who needs to pull you out of it.

you bite your lip in a pathetic attempt to hold back your tears. “it’s fine, cheol, just let it go.”

“well, i care about you, sweetheart. what’s going on?” he’s persistent but gentle about it. you have a habit of keeping your feelings to yourself and hardly ever letting anything out, which leads to everything just piling up and making things worse.

“i don’t wanna talk about it.”

the lump in your throat begins to rise.

“i can see that, but you’ve clearly got something you need off your chest. are you okay?”

you don’t show anyone when something’s wrong unless they mention it first. and even when they do, you’re hesitant.

it’s an exhausting way to live, but you still choose to do so.

it’s one of the reasons why you hate crying. your glossy eyes always betray you.

then you make — what you consider to be — the mistake of looking into his big, worried eyes once more, and you just completely fall apart in front of him.

the tears begin to flow before you can even comprehend it.

“it’s just—god, i don’t even know why i’m so fucking emotional, i just—” your breath shudders, the mildly angry expression that was previously on your face now nowhere to be found, “everything’s been so stressful recently, and i’m scared i won’t pass my classes, and i feel like such a slow learner compared to everyone else—”

he’s rubbing your back, just allowing you to you let everything out. he keeps quiet.

“i feel fucking fragile. and weak. every little thing is just too much right now. i’m sorry, i feel stupid.”

he lets you cry into his chest as his arms are wrapped around you, one hand softly rubbing the back of your head. “don’t feel stupid, baby. you can vent to me, always.”

the sound of your heavy sobs hurt him, because he feels like you’re always so hard on yourself, but he’s glad you’re releasing them. it’s healthier to let it all out than to keep it in.

“it’s just like i can’t breathe, y’know?” you mutter in the crook of his neck, subconsciously wetting his shirt with your tears, “i can’t take a single break ‘cause i’ll fall behind. i’m so tired. i feel like i’m not even smart enough to take the damn course, let alone pass the fucking test—”

once he feels like you’re about to start hyperventilating, he moves back to let him look at you. “long breaths. you’re okay, just breathe with me.”

he purposefully takes long, deep breaths, counting the seconds out loud to guide you, and it works. your breathing is steadying bit by bit, sobs faltering, melting into soft hiccups and numbness.

with dried tears and a slightly hoarse voice, you let out a sigh. “i just hate feeling so incompetent. for once, i’d love to feel smart. i wanna feel like i’m able to keep up as well as everyone else does, y’know? i’m… i’m procrastinating everything and i don’t know how to change it. it all sucks.”

“it’s not easy, baby. don’t be too hard on yourself.” he presses a swift kiss to your skin, and you hold him tighter, as if he were to slip out of your hold if you didn’t.

“it’s not easy for me. it is for them.”

“there’s nothing wrong with that. would you think differently if someone in your class had to put more effort into passing the course? you wouldn’t, right? because at the end of the day, you both make it to the finish line. that’s what matters.”

deep down, you know he has a point. you put the pressure so high on yourself, yet don’t apply the same logic to your peers.

you don’t really understand why.

“and you say it’s easy for them, but i know for sure that they put more effort into it than you might think. trust me. you’ll get to where you want to be, one way or another. if you take a little longer to do that than a classmate, who cares. it’s your life. i know you’ve worked so hard—” he twirls a strand of your hair between his fingers, “even if you don’t pass that class now, it won’t be the end of the world, and there’ll be another chance. you’ll get there.”

now there’s just a few last tears running down your cheeks. “except i’m worried that i won’t.”

“you will. and once you do, you’ll be happy that you got to that point because you worked hard and deserve that success. if not today, then tomorrow. yeah?”

you take a deep breath, exhaling slowly, the last shudders of your breakdown bubbling to the surface as your heart rate finally slows back to normal. “yeah. thank you.”

to show your gratitude, you give him a hug, which he happily embraces, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“anytime. i’m here for you.”

even the strongest of people break — but they can still pick up the pieces and start over.

do your best (but maybe not sometimes) <3

® SANAKIRAS — do not repost, remake or copy my work in any way whatsoever. translations are not allowed.

#choi seungcheol x reader #scoups x reader #svt x reader #svthub #seungcheol x reader #scoups fanfic #scoups angst #scoups fluff #choi seungcheol fanfic #choi seungcheol ff #seventeen x reader #seventeen fanfic #svt ff #svt oneshot #svt angst #svt fluff

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babyleostuff1 · 5 months ago

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── a beautiful mess | LN4

𝜗𝜚 THEME: fluff, established relationship 𝜗𝜚 PAIRING: lando norris x fem!reader 𝜗𝜚 WORD COUNT: 654

SYNOPSIS: (lando + cooking = disaster) the one where your boyfriend tries making you dinner

your boyfriend was talented in many things, but cooking was not one of them. once, at the beginning of your relationship when you didn’t know about lando’s inability to make a toast that wasn’t burned, you proposed making dinner together, hoping it’d be as romantic as in the movies.

well - ever since that day lando had been forbidden from entering the kitchen.

„lan, i’m home!” you yelled out from the hall, and sighed in relief. finally home. today wasn’t your best day, and to be honest all you wanted was to order takeout and cuddle with your boyfriend, maybe watch a movie if you didn’t fall asleep before that.

but the apartment was oddly silent. „lando?” usually your boyfriend came running to you, resembling an excited golden retriever, but now he was nowhere to be seen which was weird. you peeked into the living room in search of lando, and that's when the funky smell hit you.

following the smell and sizzling sounds you entered the kitchen, and the view in front of you had to be the most endearing yet funny thing ever.

„lando?” you couldn’t help but giggle at the man. „what are you doing?”

your boyfriend was standing in front of the stove with two pans in his hands, looking very much panicked by the state of the food being half burned already. next to him were three cutting boards with half-cut vegetables (which looked as if they had been cut by a five-year-old), and a lot of mess.

“huh?” he raised his head in surprise. it was funny how most people knew him from his hot/i’m going to provide sexy content for edits side, and you, on the other hand, had to deal with a cute lando most of the time. this time was no different.

„baby,” you sighed, and rested your head against the door frame, „what are you doing in the kitchen?”

lando whined quietly and dropped his head, looking between the two pans in his hands. “could you help? please?" you nodded and took his place at the stove with a gentle smile. you quickly fixed the mess that lando made and once you were sure that your apartment wasn't in danger of burning down, you turned to your boyfriend. “care to explain, hmm?” you asked and ran your fingers through his messy curls.

"well, when we texted earlier today, i knew you weren't having the best day and..." he sighed and shyly grabbed your hand that was still in his hair, placing a kiss on it. “so i just wanted to do something nice for you, and since you're always the one who makes dinner, i wanted... well, i wanted to make something to eat. it didn't work out. as usual.”

you'd be lying if you said his words didn't melt your heart. the sincerity in his voice and the love in his eyes were so evident and these were the moments that made the weeks of being apart so much worth it.

„lan,” you muttered, grabbing his face between your hands. „i love you so much, and i really appreciate you, um,” you looked around the kitchen, „trying, but you really didn’t have to.”

lando laughed quietly, nuzzling his cheek further into your hand. „do you think whatever this is,” he pointed to the pans, „is still edible?”

you crooked your eyebrow at the half burned vegetables, but you didn’t have the heart to tell your boyfriend that it’d probably taste like shit.

„i think we can still save it,” you said instead. „but you mister,” you lowered your hand to squeeze his bicep, „are going to stay away from the food.”

a wide smile quickly appeared on lando's face. “i’m fine with that,” he said, grabbing you by the waist and turning you around so he could wrap his arms around you.

„this is even better,” he mumbled, and kissed your shoulder.

#f1 #f1 headcanons #f1 fluff #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #lando fluff #lando x reader #lando norris #lando x you #lando x y/n #lando norris imagine #lando imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x oc

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marycorcaroli · 1 year ago

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PLEASE do a blurb/fic of zoro or luffy (your choice!!) being pussy drunk!! i love your work <333

first of all, thank you for your kind words, i don’t know if i wrote it well, but i tried my best ♡

zoro & luffy as a pussy drunk boyfriends ♡

english is not my first language, i apologize for the mistakes ♡

zoro.

you don't need to ask zoro for anything, he'll feel it himself when you want his tongue between your legs. zoro loves licking you so much and the way you whimper and beg for him to let you cum and give you the most euphoric orgasm. zoro licks cunnie better than anyone else, he was born to give you that pleasure. zoro isn't the fastest at this, he likes to enjoy every moment and every inch of you, making sure to kiss your thighs and your breasts before he starts licking you. he will start kissing your clit uncontrollably to hear you say "please, zoro, fuck me with your tongue" and he will go crazy for it. his mouth will not be able to stop until you cover his face in your juices, he will be covered in them and his knees will be shaking, his pants will be ruined because your cunt makes him cum more than you, your taste, your smell, your everything. he can't stop after two of your orgasms, he needs more. he wants to burrow into you while his hands hold your waist so you can't move away from him or push him away, he won't let that happen. zoro loses control of himself, his head spinning before his eyes, all he sees is you and your cunt swollen with endless orgasms. eventually he lets you go and gives you hope that that's it, but the next second you're on his face and zoro tries again to make you cum in a minute to feel your juices, he licks you all over and after hours of orgasms, he kisses you, but he wants more.

luffy.

luffy doesn't care where and when to lick you, he will lick you only because he wants to, he doesn't care who is looking at you, he is flattered to let everyone know that he can give you euphoria with just his tongue. he is the dirtiest and drooling, your cunnie is like air to him and he literally gasps when you try to move away from him and starts crying. he will beg you to let him lick you all day, it's only morning and luffy is so needy. he will stain all the sheets with his cum just from the sight of your cunt, in his head he has already seen what will happen to him, once he tastes you he will go crazy. he will start out very rough, luffy has waited too long. he will literally dig his face deep into you, his nose will rub your clit as his tongue does its best to bathe in your juices. he will make you feel too good, but you shouldn't forget about him. oh god, this boy is already sick, imagine a man who lives to be on his knees in front of you. he can't get enough air, he will never get tired of you and your taste, don't get your hopes up, he could die while he's licking you, it's beyond praise for him, if you want to thank him in any way, just spread your legs and that will be enough. luffy is ready to tell everyone how delicious you are and how lucky he is to have you. how he wants to be between your legs forever. i don't think he will ever be gentle, haha he just can't enjoy it and wants to take you all over. everyone has seen his nose, right? luffy is waiting for you to ride his face, your juices running down his chin while the two of you go crazy with your orgasms and can't stop whimpering, your eyes will be red and your face swollen with tears but luffy is even more turned on, i don't think he can stop.

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livingformintyoongi · 5 months ago

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Jungkook eating her gf out by the pool while she's laying on the lounger and enjoying the sun because he's so pussy whipped he just can't control himself

Summer Days

a/n: It was so hard to start writing this because the description was too vague AH- for the anon who asked for this, I hope it was what you were looking for, I tried to do the best I could 😣. wc: 1.4k taglist: @thunderg @minjianhyung @queenv1997 @yoongtism @lizzymizzy-blogg @superbbananananana @drpepperobsessed @themwordsblog @taekritimin123 @bluecloudss

“What's wrong?” you muttered under your breath, feeling your boyfriend pierce your profile with his gaze. You didn't bother to look at him, mostly because you didn't think what he wanted to ask you was something that warranted it. You loved your boyfriend, but you had waited too long to get to this part of your book, you couldn't stop now.

“Uhm, I was just thinking... you look very pretty today” he nodded quickly, stirring in his lounger, “I haven't seen you in that swimsuit before, it's beautiful.”

You nodded silently, pushing your sunglasses up the bridge of your nose, your attention still completely on your book, “I bought it recently, Soyeon saw it on sale and thought it would look good on me, so she bought it.” You turned the page, watching out of the corner of your eye as Jungkook awkwardly got up from his lounger and approached you. For a second you turned to watch him, following his every move as he sat down across from you, using your lounger as a seat.

“Hey, can I ask you a strange question?” he said softly, resting his hand on your thigh and caressing your soft skin so gently that even you were surprised. Jungkook's touch was firm most of the time, indeed, you were very likely to feel his large hands land on some part of your body and give it a gentle but firm squeeze, never so light and delicate.

You set your book down resting on your abdomen, lifting your sunglasses so you could get a better look at your boyfriend, “Sure, go ahead.” You noticed how his hand slowly made its way up to your inner thigh, his cheeks were slightly pink, but you had no idea if it was due to the strong sun today or if it was out of embarrassment.

“Can I eat you?” he lifted his gaze from your legs to your face, giving you the most depressing and tender lamb eyes possible, just the ones he always gave you when he wanted something from you. He knew perfectly well that they were your weakness, and he was more than willing to use it against you.

“Here?” you laughed under your breath, looking around. You weren't in a public place, your boyfriend was lucky enough to have a medium sized pool in the backyard of his house, which to his luck had a fairly large wall that kept out the prying eyes of nosy people, but that didn't take away from the fact that you were still in an open place, and in the middle of the day to boot.

“I promise I'll be quick, before you know it you'll be cumming on my tongue, I swear” he hastened to say, swinging his leg up and down. He watched your every expression, trying to see what your response would be and praying it would be positive.

“Okay, but don't even think I'll clean the deck chair” you sighed, putting your sunglasses back down and opened the book to the page you were left with. You knew well that Jungkook cared little and nothing about you putting all his attention on him when he licked your pussy, he always seemed to be so immersed in his own world when he did it.

“Yes!” he nodded quickly, settling quickly between your legs, letting them rest on his shoulders. His fingers gently removed the cool fabric from your skin. He had no plans to fuck, so he just pushed it aside, watching your intimacy intently as he licked his lips.

He kissed your inner thighs with utmost care, each kiss he gave was a kiss closer to your center, the place he wanted, no, needed to get to in order to continue his quiet day. His teeth gently tugged at your sensitive skin, causing you to stir from the lounger. From your position you had been able to feel his shit-eating grin as he saw your reaction.

You felt an electric current run up and down your spine the moment Jungkook ran his tongue along your slit slowly but firmly. You both let out a moan at the contact. “You taste so good...I don't think I can get over it” he laughed softly, kissing every bit of skin he could find. His fingers itched with the need he felt to get at least one inside you.

You brought one of your hands to his hair, stroking from it as Jungkook's kisses became increasingly messy and sloppy, slowly disturbing your breathing and the tingling in your lower stomach.

He blew gently on your entrance, bringing his fingers to it so he could open it, plunging his tongue inside you. Jungkook had to hold your hips to keep them from lifting off the lounger, grunting against your pussy as he felt your fingers tugging at his hair.

“Shit, so soon? You're seriously desperate” you muttered, letting your head fall back as your boyfriend moved his tongue inside you, touching just the spots he knew would provoke a reaction in your body.

Jungkook completely ignored your comment, focusing solely on the sensation of your pussy enveloping his tongue tightly. He used one of his hands to hold your hips still while the other settled over your clit and gave it the attention he knew you loved.

He wasn't wrong at all.

Your back hunched slightly and your breathing became even more agitated. By this point your book had fallen to the side and you didn't even remember clearly what you read last, but you didn't mind at all, your boyfriend was making up for it in the best way.

You frowned as you felt his tongue slowly leave your insides and his fingers move away from your clit. You lowered your gaze to him, not quite understanding what he was planning to do.

He brushed the hair out of your eyes, wiping your chin with the back of his hand. His gaze never left your pussy, and you could feel from your place how he wanted to continue what he was doing. He gave you one last look before moving back down, but this time it was his mouth that started to play with your clit, causing your whole body to shudder. You had to cling to his hair to keep from losing your mind.

“Fuck” you moaned softly, too stunned to be able to say a full sentence. On his side, Jungkook was more than happy to suck and bite that little button he loved so much. He circled it with licks, bit it, pulled it with his teeth and sucked on it until his very lips felt numb, and it was only then that he decided to stick two of his fingers inside you, curving them right where he knew your G-spot was. His body trembled with pleasure as he heard you moan his name.

“You're squeezing my fingers pretty hard, are you going to cum yet?” he laughed teasingly, moving his fingers inside you faster than before, opening them once they were deeper inside you, he regretted teasing you the instant he felt you pull his hair so hard he feared you were going to pull a strand out of his head.

“Shit, shit, shit” you groaned through your teeth, futilely trying to push Jungkook away from your pussy, but he obviously wasn't going to allow that. He clung to your hips as if his life depended on it, trying to take every last drop of your cum, and even when you were done, he spent at least a minute giving little licks along your pussy until he was completely satisfied.

“I told you I wouldn't be long at all” he smiled proudly at you, wiping his chin awkwardly.

You rolled your eyes, fixing your swimsuit and getting up as best you could from the chair. Jungkook had to help you to another lounger due to the strong trembling of your legs, “Next time try to do it when I’m not busy, disrespectful” you laughed under your breath, letting your weight fall on the lounger.

“Whatever the lady of the house says” he replied teasingly, leaning back next to you, wrapping his strong arms around your waist and settling his head on your chest, ready to take a nap in your arms, with one of your hands in his hair and the other on your book.

Masterlist

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thinkingotherwise · 6 months ago

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can i request umemiya and reader that they are a couple and since he is like the guys big brother she would be like his big sister? ugh, umemiya is so handsome, gentle, sexy, i love him, i fell in love, i need more content about our number 1.

Umemiya making our expectations for partners way too high. The man seems too perfect.

Hajime Umemiya and his girlfriend being the older siblings or maybe something else to Bofurin members

I think that some Bofurin members give off the youngest sibling energy. Guess who?

You loved Hajime, not only because he was smokin' hot and very charming, even though you loved it as well, but also because of his kindness, the playfulness he showed to everybody, and the attentiveness to, as well as, care about others. He just seemed so perfect and you always told him how lucky you felt to be with him.

As time passed and you spent more and more of it with your ideal man and Bofurin, you also got used to them and the unique relationship they shared. They even started calling you their big sister, as Hajime would usually name himself the big bro, and what other name could they call the girlfriend of their leader?

Honestly, you'd need to be the harsher of you two because your boyfriend was just too soft and playful. He'd pamper the "kids", as he did with the first years, and encourage them to use their youth however they want. You, at the same time, were the voice of reason, trying to keep the Bofurin members under control, as the chaos they could sometimes create was a little too much.

When there was trouble and Bofurin was involved, however, Hajime would become a very protective and firm "older brother". A person you can depend on and leave all your troubles to, and you, as his partner, were responsible for keeping him at bay and not letting him get hurt too much.

The family-like relationship between you, your boyfriend, and other members of the school didn't prevent you from the arguments that arose, thankfully, very rarely.

While you were having a heated conversation with Hajime, the present Bofurin students, who observed it would try to ease you up.

The best ones at that were the first years, because of their awkward, yet playful comments that just made you stop and look at them not believing the words that left their mouths.

"You two always argue like an old married couple." Suou commented loud enough so you could hear him and stop your argument.

It did work and you turned to him but he was far from done and continued with a wide grin on his face.

"Do you plan to adopt all of us in the future, I think some wouldn't mind it."

"The parents are arguing again, what shall we do?" Kiryu joined in on the fun.

You felt your heart beating faster at their teasing getting easily flustered. In the hopes of stopping that your gaze moved to Hajime, who wore a matching grin like the first years, already forgetting about the argument he had with you.

"Well, I wouldn't mind marrying her one day. I'm sure (Y/n) would make a great wife." He commented smiling lovingly at you already imagining the life he could have with you.

"You're getting married?!" Sakura asked loudly getting the attention of other Bofurin members nearby.

That included Hiiragi, who the moment those words left the first year's mouth bent in half feeling the ache in his stomach coming back. He had enough of their shenanigans and slowly walked away to sit somewhere else and calm down.

As well as, Sugishita, who turned with wide eyes to look at the leader in betrayal. How could he not tell him that he was getting married, before telling Sakura?

The whole misunderstanding made you embarrassed and when you saw how much joy it brought Hajime you smacked his arm repeatedly trying to unload the feeling on him. He just laughed loudly and embraced you keeping you close to him.

"Stop it, it's not funny. Sakura, Kiryuu, and Suou you're in so much trouble when I get you!" You called to them trying to push away from the tight embrace but it was impossible.

"Well, hopefully, one day she'll be Umemiya." Hajime said and looked at you with his big loving eyes and you just couldn't take it.

You scrunched your face before hiding it in his shoulder and slapping his biceps twice. You gave in to your fate letting him hug you and shower in love.

Tags: @misticbullet

#wind breaker (satoru nii)#wind breaker (satoru nii) x reader #wind breaker #wind breaker x reader #hajime umemiya x reader

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jurijyuu · 6 months ago

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I wanna take a ride on your radio stick (Alastor x Reader)

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

AlastorxReader Smut

Summary: Being sick sucks ass. Unfortunately, your boyfriend is the Radio Demon who’s too busy to keep an eye on you as you recover. As you sleep through your cold, your boyfriend leaves you his mic to keep in touch in case you need help.

Note: No, you do not use his mic as a dildo. That's Vox's kink.

What's in Store: Gender-Neutral Reader, Masturbation, Dry Humping, Established relationship, Male Masturbation, Alastor discovers ASMR

Your POV

When you woke up delirious and exhausted one day, your boyfriend practically panicked. It was odd to see him fret, so unsure and unsettled over a cold. It’s not like dying from illness in Hell would be permanent either so his frittering about was completely uncalled for.

Darling, have some soup. Darling, drink some water. Darling, I brought some medicine. Between your fuzzy senses and bleary awareness throughout the last couple of days, these moments of attention and care piled up into memory. Ah, but he really was sweet even when his worry was unnecessary. When you were better, you would pay him back.

That said, for the first time in days, you felt somewhat clear headed, the fog of sleep no longer clinging to you in moments of consciousness. You tried to remember how long you’d been out. Three days? Four? Alastor would know but the deer man wasn’t here. Weakly, you searched for his presence. The house was silent except for the sounds of the bayou where your shared home stood, no footsteps on creaking floorboards or humming as he went about his routine. You did, however, sense his power. It was faint compared to what he exuded but it was there, not too far from you. Turning to the side, you found his staff leaning neatly on the nightstand.

Right. He had business to attend to at the hotel. You vaguely remember him telling you that earlier along with how he’d leave his microphone here just in case you needed to contact him. Why he refused to get even just a pager, you really didn’t understand. But you weren’t complaining right now. The faint trace of his magic from the microphone was comforting in the absence of the man himself.

Sluggishly, you crawled to the edge of the bed and reached for the staff to bring into bed with you.

“Al?” You called weakly hoping to hear your boyfriend’s voice but only received silence as a response. So he was too busy. Unfortunate, though it’s probably for the best as you only wanted to hear him and that wasn’t a good enough reason to interrupt his work.

Still…

Closing your eyes, a few memories flitted through your mind. A calming hand, and sweet murmurs asking if you were feeling better, what did you need? Your lover had always been good at caring for you but it was never with quite the amount of tenderness your faint memories provided. He’d sounded so unbelievably sweet that you regretted not being able to see him through most of it, fighting for consciousness as you were. Your heart clenched and stuttered thinking of your tall menace of a gentleman actually being a gentle man.

It could have been your fever or just your imagination trying to fill in the blanks of what face your usually chipper lover looked like as he cared for you but you felt flush as you laid in bed. Alastor…

He usually grinned a toothy smile meant to intimidate or fool anyone into thinking he was always having a jolly good time. But on occasion, you’d caught him with a small one, eyes half-lidded, lost in a soft sweet song from yesteryear, oblivious to the world. Sometimes those eyes would be looking at you, something electric lighting them up when you looked back at him.

Had he looked at you with that tired and lazy stare? Waiting patiently for you to get better as he took care of all your needs from changing your clothes to even bathing your body.

Heat pulsed down your body to between your legs. That wasn’t the fever.

With a groan you turned to your side, the faint wave of arousal heating you up as it passed through you. Should you? Shouldn’t you? If you waited long enough, it would go away on its own. But then again, this was a rare opportunity to help yourself since Alastor was out and left you alone for once.

Your throat felt dry as the arousal continued its slow but blaring spike. Ahh fuck it. You blamed your still feverish mind for giving in to quick relief.

Reaching into your pants, you fondled your sex through your underwear, gentle and slow, almost shy. When Alastor touched you, it was always urgent and demanding, his dominant personality on full display even as he was servicing your body. But what you wanted right now was that soft Alastor.

One faint memory in particular came to mind. Your body had been burning hotter than it was right now.

“Oh dear. You’re sweating so much, darling. Let me wipe you down.”

His ungloved hand reached out to help you sit up against the headboard, careful not to jolt you too harshly. There was a faint sloshing of water. With your eyes still sleepy, you didn’t see him but he must’ve rolled his sleeves up, coat put away somewhere since he was home.

“Easy there. Let me take off your shirt, sweetheart.”

Your heartbeat picked up as you remembered the faint brushes of his fingers as he unbuttoned your sleepwear. With your free hand, you imitated your imaginary lover. Those long fingers peppered little touches on your chest, on your sternum and down your belly, another wave of heat following their path down but never quite reaching where you’d wanted them to go. He was always a tease.

Your breath hitched as you imagined him looking at your bare chest, one strong hand firmly keeping you in place against the headboard as the other went to grab a washcloth. Did he rub little circles on your clavicle with his thumb while he was at it? You’d like to think he did as you replicated his motions, rubbing your thumb in light circles over your sex.

This soft Alastor didn’t speak much, not wanting to disturb your rest more than he already was. Instead, he crooned a soft melody, keeping you teetering in limbo between wakefulness and sleep as your body grew hotter.

A cold cloth passed over your shoulder causing you to keen, your nipples hardening in response to the imaginary chill, something your lover probably noticed. With firm yet gentle strokes, he patted the wet cloth against your sweaty body, each touch so gentle that it stoked a fire in your belly. Every time the cloth was washed, wrung and brought back to your body, you hissed, the cool sensation a stark contrast against your heated skin and heated core.

“Almost done, sweetheart.”

He was talking in a lower tone, almost whispering, voice turning the slightest bit gravelly. This was supposed to cool you down so why was it getting you hotter? And did he notice that the flush creeping up your chest had nothing to do with your cold?

Finally, he’d finished wiping your back and arms, tossing the washcloth into the basin with a loud splash.

In reality, he’d dressed you up in a new shirt and you went back to sleep but not this imaginary deer man.

“Oh darling, you still look so flushed.”

Clawed hands gently cupped your heated cheeks, their coolness shooting straight to your aroused sex in a way that was a little embarrassing given that your man was only trying to clean you up. And even with your eyes closed, you knew he noticed, his stare feeling electric on your exposed skin.

“Oh I might have missed a spot.”

There was a light teasing in his voice, only masked by the rough murmur it had turned to. You heard the water slosh again. A cold and slightly rough sensation brushed against your erect nipple. You moaned in shocked pleasure as it jolted lighting through your body. A similarly shocked gasp came from your imaginary Alastor, a light break in his static as his hand lightly clenched.

You felt boneless as his other hand guided you to lay back down as he cooed softly.

“Your fever is back up, darling. Let me try to cool you down.”

The washcloth rubbed lightly against your other nipple and your stomach clenched. It felt so good. He kept at it, playing with one or the other until you were a writhing mess. You tried to open your eyes but they were too heavy.

“Shhh sweetheart. Let me take care of you.”

One claw tip, razor sharp, lightly flicked your nipple, rubbing on it just a bit before tracing a line down your navel, down your bellybutton and stopping just at the waistband of your pajamas before ghosting over your sex.

He said nothing but the sound of his chuckles transformed that sweet face into his usual smug one. Arrogant prick. He was planning to tease you til you begged, wasn’t he? You were almost tempted to let him play with you until you got to that point. A wicked smile stretched in his face.

“Don’t tease me, Al.”

“Tease you, dear? I’m just trying to clean you up. Sit up so I can put a new shirt on you.”

You wanted to wipe that smug smile off his face. Fueled by arousal and spite, you imagined pulling the deer man into bed with you, tossing him over until you had him under you. You imagined straddling his skinny waist and letting him feel the results of his ‘cleaning up.’ With your hand still cupping your heated sex, you ground down on it only to gasp when something cool bumped into the back of your hand.

Breaking away from your fantasy, you spot Alastor’s staff under you, faintly buzzing with your lover’s magic. Again, you blamed it on your fever but having something of his right there as you imagined topping your arrogant radio man was too delicious to resist.

Taking your hand away from your sex, you positioned the length of the staff to align with your core and then lowered yourself down. The cold metal glided against your sex as you rubbed yourself on it. It was too thin but if you closed your eyes, you could imagine that you were holding your skinny deer man, rubbing yourself against his equally hard cock.

Fuck. It shouldn’t feel so good but it did. You swung your hips a bit to feel more of that length, the harsh metal rubbing at just the right places to send pleasure up and down your spine. The fantasy in your head shattered as something else replaced it.

You held onto the microphone tighter, pulling it closer to you as you imagined your Alastor walking in on this display. Coming in from a hard day’s work only to find you so desperately chasing release against his microphone. Could he hear the sounds you were making?

A moan escaped your lips. He would be so stunned. He didn’t know that you were this horny. He was always so proper and only recently accepted intimate contact. How could you tell him that you just wanted to rub yourself all over him? Feel the hard planes of his body against your skin. Push him down and ride his cock until he was a mess of screams and broken radio static. He was so sensitive, so new to sex. You wanted to ruin him for anyone else.

He’d never let you be on top though, too busy wanting to fuck you into the mattress. Gods, he was rough. He’d thrust with all his lithe body, wringing screams of want and desperate pleasure from you until you skull banged against the headboard. Then he’d kiss you to pin you in place.

Of course you wanted to do the same to him so why not start with this part of him? The mic had a capped bottom, giving you a lovely ridge to play with. Pushing the staff under you, you desperately humped against that ridge, delicious friction sending unimaginable thrills up your spine and all the way to your head until it was empty except for that pleasure.

“Alastor.”

The microphone head pressed into your chest, its ridges lightly rubbing against your skin and your nipples with each roll of your hips, shooting little jolts of ticklish pleasure through you. Ohh it felt so good. You gasped and moaned as you reached higher and higher peaks. Could Alastor hear what you were doing? The thing was always on so he probably could. Was he listening to you fuck yourself against his mic while sitting in a meeting, unable to leave? Were your cries throwing off his focus? Was he itching to come back home to you and see exactly what you were doing?

“Allll—“

Could he feel your heated sex as you pressed it against the length of his staff? The thing was a part of him after all. If so, how was he feeling right now? Scandalized? Aroused? Horrified? If he were here, would he push you away or take his microphone’s place? Either way, his clawed hand would have to grab you by your hips as you continued to gyrate against his staff. The ghostly sensations of his hands on you fueling the fire coursing through your veins. Fuck! You were so close.

You pinched your nipple as you ground down hard, your fingers joining the staff in teasing your sensitive sex, the pleasure building up until you tipped over the edge.

“Al! I—I’m coming!” You moaned into the microphone, wanting your lover to hear your pleasured cries, all cares gone with the wind as you rode your high into unconsciousness.

Alastor's POV

A meeting with the Princess of Hell was the last thing on his mind right now. A sick lover awaited him at home, needing to be cared for, but he was forced to come to this useless meeting instead. So very unfortunate. Given, the recent announcement of the new extermination timeline was a huge concern for the girl but that was honestly not his problem to worry about so long as the hotel and his business partner remained unscathed.

Needless to say, the princess was determined to ‘speed up’ what progress she could on getting their two guests to achieve redemption.

“Volunteer work idea! We can do volunteer work as part of our redemption path. Doing good deeds is part of being a good person, right? Well, we should help out some of the sinners in the territorial war districts.” Charlie raised up one of her hand drawn illustrations showing what he assumed to be the said territorial war zone. It depicted the hotel crew helping clean and bandage the wounded and helpless.

All so very trivial given those souls would respawn in time unless they were faced with Carmine weaponry. In that case, and in all cases really, those souls should have known what they were getting themselves into when battling for territory. He’d thought of a hundred ways the princess’ idea could go wrong and was about to suggest them when he heard a familiar voice ringing through his mind. He picked up the signal from his microphone.

“Al?” Voice hoarse from disuse, his little darling called out to him once you had woken up. How he wished he could come to your side right at that moment. The few times you had been coherent during this whole ordeal had been far too few and short. A hellish flu was so uncommon and there had been no ways to heal from it other than to wait it out.

He reevaluated what he needed to do. On one hand, he could be helpful and plan this whole redemption exercise for Charlie to ensure no trouble occurred. However, the princess took a very hands-on approach to things. Bringing up any problems would only prolong the meeting…He sighed internally. What to do?

With half an ear to the chattering princess, he focused the other half of his attention to whatever sounds his microphone could pick up. If anything alarming was transmitted, he was ready to shadow home as quickly as possible.

“…We can implement a buddy system. It’s a little dangerous to just go alone and…” Ah. For once, the princess recognized a flaw in her plan before he even had to mention it. Wonderful. She was learning to be a bet—

“Ah…oh..”

Any admiration he might have had for the princess’ awareness of the dangers her plan posed was halted by a breathy moan in his mind’s ear. Had you gotten hurt trying to move around? From how delirious you had been prior, he could imagine you falling off the bed trying to look for him or care for yourself. But he hadn't heard any noises indicating an accident.

Immediately, all his focus moved to his microphone, magick at the ready to bring him back. Charlie’s plans would have to wait. He was about to apologize to the princess and leave when another sound, a soft sigh of pleasure entered his mind.

What?

It was soft, so very soft, but your rhythmic breathing was steadily increasing in pace, dotted with little sighs and shy moans. He knew those sounds all too familiarly, aimed to bring them out as he played with your body most evenings. Surely…it wasn’t what he thought it was?

A high keening sound, muffled slightly and marred by the transmission’s static pierced his mind and smothered any doubt he had about exactly what he was hearing.

The sound of your whines rang in his ear, reverberating through his head like a dinner bell and awakening a hunger he’d only ever felt with you. Sinful little thing. You had to know that he could hear you with his microphone so close to you. You were doing this on purpose! His static crackled as your noises picked up.

Your muffled cries increased in volume and urgency as he could now hear the subtle rustling of bedsheets moving with you. Whatever fantasy had brought you to touch yourself, you were currently lost in.

He twitched as tendrils of arousal slithered their way into his veins. His wicked lover was casting a siren call, delirious, weak, deliciously vulnerable and obviously asking to be fucked.

He took a slow breath to cool the heat starting to rise in his body. Why did you start this now, of all times? He’d been with you for days before this! Your timing was terrible. Or maybe you had planned this, wanting him to come rushing to you as soon as possible. His teeth clenched in his smile.

Why was it that the first thing you did when you finally had the energy was to crave sexual fulfillment? To pleasure yourself when he wouldn’t be there to assist you?

It was debased and primitive of you. He wasn’t sure whether to be irritated by your lewd behavior or proud. But he did know that your little act was stirring things south of where was appropriate in front of the princess and her girlfriend. Keeping a neutral expression on his face, he shifted slightly where he stood by the princess’ desk. He needed to get them out.

In a bid to keep his composure, he played a little jig from his chest, something light and cheerful, a complete and total clash to the heat building below his belly. If he waited just a bit more…but Charlie looked ready to burst into song. He couldn’t have that.

“An excellent idea!” He chimed, cutting off whatever Charlie was saying. Both women turned to him, one in pleasant surprise and the other curious.

“Really?” Charlie sparkled at his half-serious agreement, throwing beams of sunshine from her eyes that only served to irritate him further. The heat running up and down his body made him even more impatient with the princess’ inane suggestions.

“Yes. Why don’t you scout out the perfect area for us to do this little venture. Have to ensure the safety of our guests, after all.” Before the women could get their bearings together, he was already gently pushing Charlie out the door, with her tail of a lover sure to follow. “Make a day trip of it, even. I’m sure there’s lots to see.”

“H..hnnnggh..!”

His smile almost cracked at the delicious whine that poured from your darling mouth. He wished he could be there to drink it up right at that moment. But composure. Composure. Disguising the sense of urgency pumping through his system with enthusiastic chatter about casualty statistics and needing to ensure they didn’t overstep into Overlord territories, he managed to get the two women out of the shared office space in record time.

“Have fun now, you two.” He waved them off, their faces a little bewildered but they didn’t really have much of a choice after he’d closed the door on their faces.

The door rattled in his haste but he managed to lock it quickly. He once again tried to summon his magick to bring him away when a croon reverberated through his chest.

“Alastorrrr…”

His breath caught.

Static ran up his spine to the roll of those pleasured r’s. He’d never admit to how his knees buckled at the sound, a unique quality he could only attribute to his darling. But it was different somehow. A wicked idea popped into his mind, the static filter in his love’s voice adding a certain flavor he’d never associated with sex before.

Making sure to seal the room so that not even a speck of dust could get in or out, he sat down on his chair. With a flick of his wrist, he transferred the transmission from his mind to the radio sitting at his desk. From there, your voice played.

“Don’t tease me, Al.”

“Oh but aren’t you doing the teasing here, darling?” He smiled deviously, imagining your face as he said so. You wouldn’t have heard him muse back. For what he had in mind, he’d made it a one-way broadcast purposefully.

Another sigh escaped your lips sending heat down to his already aching member. With deft hands, he unbuckled his belt, slowly easing himself out of his slacks. The hair of his navel stood on end at the rush of cold air hitting the sensitive skin. His cock stood ready and weeping from just the sounds of your debauchery. It was truly pathetic but you had that effect on him. He palmed himself briefly, imagining it was your hands taking him out of his clothes. Shy and careful. You were always very gentle with him. And it drove him mad with want.

Grabbing his cock, he started to stroke, slow at first, getting a bit faster as more of his precum leaked out. From the radio, he heard rustling. He could picture it then, your skin gliding in the sheets of your bed, a thin layer of sweat giving your flushed face a delectable shine. You writhed with want, unfulfilled and calling for him. Your labored breathing sounded lovely and lewdly through the radio.

He groaned, eyes closed as he pictured being there with you as you crawled over to him, hands greedy to stroke his member. The sheets rustled as they tugged at your knees, too eager to disentangle yourself from the blankets. Your hands delicately wrapped around his cock, face aglow as you admired it. You looked so ready to take it into your little mouth.

He hissed and stroked, slower this time to match his image of you. He licked his lips as his breathing quickened.

He’d never understood the appeal of listening to such filthy broadcasts. Saw it as a distasteful use of air time that could have been used for news, jazz or something else. He’d tried it once and could only grimace at the theatrical moaning of the actors at the station. The storylines were ridiculously shallow too.

But with you on the other side, a broadcast exclusive for his ears only…He shuddered, ears twitching to catch the lightest of sounds for his mind to work into fantasy. His hips thrust up into his hand, presenting you with a prize you so very much wanted. Naughty little thing.

The broadcast buzzed sharply, sending a jolt through his chest in shock. Something had hit the microphone. For a moment, his heart stopped, thinking that you did end up over extending yourself and collapsed. But just as quickly, a new sensation started.

“Fuck!”

His free hand rushed to gripped the armrest of his chair tightly. It was the only way he could channel the sudden rush that overtook his body, lest the hand squeezing his cock tighten too much. Something hot and moist pressed against his extension and he nearly choked at the sudden pressure.

He could feel it! A silky glide. He could feel you, your hot sex rubbing up and down against the shaft of his staff, his mind directing that sensation to his crotch. A shiver ran up his spine, the ghost sensations of your hands trailing along his staff being mirrored onto his body.

“Fuck.”

A similar curse whispered huskily through the radio. So he wasn’t the only one feeling sensitive. You moaned as he felt the corresponding brush of your sex against his staff, against him. Sweat collected on his brow as his body grew hotter in response. It was as if you were there with him.

“Ah—Alastor!”

“Yes, darling? Come and rut yourself on me. Let me feel you.” His free hand traced up his chest, claws mimicking the way you would slowly and intentionally trail your fingers up his body when you were being intimate. Tugging at his shirt teasingly, your hands lightly splayed against his chest. He arched his back into the touch. You knew how much he liked your touch. Always tracing lines along his shoulders, counting his ribs.

“Oh..” He groaned, hand moving faster along his cock as you found a steady rhythm to pleasure yourself to. He could feel the ghostly heat and slick of your fluids starting to smear and make a mess of his microphone. His thumb brushed the weeping red tip, paying close attention to smear his precum, imagining it was yours starting to coat his cock.

“Hmnngh. Al—feels good.”

“Does it, darling? Hn. You’re making a mess. I’ll have you clean that up, you know.” As if you could hear him, another pathetic whine squeaked through his radio feed. His static broke at the sound. “Yes. You’ll have to take responsibility for making it so filthy.”

He could feel his extension get crushed between your body and the mattress, your body heat getting relayed onto his own. You were so desperate to bed him, keening and moaning sloppily to a fantasy him of your own design. He did the same. His mental image of you bent down, face close to his cock, breath brushing teasingly over the sensitive tip, waiting for his command. He smirked through the buzz that ran through his body at the pathetic sight, concentration going blurry as lust took over.

“Use your mouth.”

Another high pitched whine. You bent low, static-filtered breathing feeling so close and warm on his cock. He summoned a tentacle to join his hand in working his member, its slimy texture a poor replacement for your tongue but…he growled at the first lick of it…good enough. As long as he thought it was you, it would be good enough. His teeth dug into his lip, stifling his groans as he guided ‘your tongue.’ A slow lick on each of his balls, up the underside of his cock, teasing the vein there that you knew he liked.

“That’s good, dear. Ah! So good. Let me reward you.”

His free hand twitched, imagining reaching for your hole, working you open slowly with his fingers. The silky walls of your cavern were a familiar sensation his brain provided in the absence of the actual thing. His fingers pushed in and out slowly, tracing the outer edges before dipping back in. Your moans were constant now, a never ending chant of your pleasure and his name. His head swam with sensations, imagined and transmitted. A part of him reveled in this pleasure you gave him, that you didn’t know he was partaking in.

“That’s it, darling. My darling doe. Take your pleasure…” He gasped, the muscles in his stomach growing taut as the coils of ecstasy wound themselves layer after layer. “…give me mine too. Make me cum with your mouth.”

From your sounds and the rough brushes of heat ghosting along his body, he could tell you were close, riding that fantasy of yours without reservation.

“Not yet, dear. Hnngh. Not..yet.” It was getting harder to breathe as his heart pounded, trying to reach that high while you were still going. He needed the stimuli. He craved it. He was so close. The wet heat from your body transmitted from his staff to his cock, your voice garbled pleasured sounds from his radio. So close. So close.

“Al! I—I’m coming!”

“Wait, darling. You can take a little more. Just a bit—”

But his plea didn’t reach you. He heard you scream directly into the microphone, so loud and amorous that his mind stuttered, worried that the sound ringing through the room would somehow escape and be heard by some passerby.

All at once, he lost the rhythmic strokes against his body as your undulating stopped. Your salacious broadcast had ended.

He rutted up into his hand furiously. He hadn’t finished yet, but he was so close, a bit feral as he tried to reach his own high now that you had achieved yours. But it was no use. His tentacle stroked precum and slime-slick pumps against his cock but without your voice, or even your ghostly touch, it felt like nothing. He growled, frustrated, slamming his hands against the armrests as he leaned back into his chair, defeated.

“Fuck!” What a tease! An absolute menace! He cursed you as he tried to calm himself, scrubbing his clean hand down his face. Massaging his temples, a realization dawned on him, reaching his orgasm was next to impossible now. He breathed deep.

But his blood still pumped in his veins, hot and wanting. He couldn’t regain his composure, too worked up. His hand reached to pull off his bow tie and free his neck to get some air. It didn’t help. You damned sinful temptation. He never had to suffer such irritating incidents like this before you. He growled and hissed, a primal aggression taking over.

This was why he had been happy to never feel these urges. It was crude, having his mind controlled by his lower body.

No matter, he would get you to fix it.

With one final deep breath, he stood and tidied his desk, making sure to leave nothing amiss. There was no point in tidying himself up. Not when he intended to make a mess of you in just a moment. At the thought, he decided to let you see the proud work you’d done on him. He took off his coat and rolled up his sleeves. You liked seeing him disheveled, more casual as you put it. Your heartbeat always picked up at every little show of his skin.

It was with this appearance, top buttons undone and slacks clinging onto his hips by some work of demon magick that wasn’t his, that he teleported back home to you. He was ready to see your surprised face, flushed still from your orgasm and slightly disoriented. Then he’d fuck you back into your coma for daring to pull such a stunt in the middle of the day. He buzzed at the plan, cock aching once again.

When he’d stepped foot into your bedroom, the sight that greeted him was a disheveled lover, hand still in clutching onto his microphone as you dozed. Seeing you weak and asleep, the urgency in his body cooled slightly, worry taking its place. Immediately, he’d made it to the bedside, checking to see if you were alright.

Light breaths. A small sigh of relief escaped his lips before his stomach clenched to remind him of his current predicament. His eyes roamed your body, making sure you were alright. When nothing seemed amiss, his eyes narrowed in irritation. He’d suspected the possibility that you had passed out after your performance but the disappointment in seeing you unconscious still stung.

Up close, he could see you, feel you, smell you. You reeked of cum, having fainted as soon as you’d climaxed. How filthy. How divine. The scent was wonderful, heady and musky, traces of your activity still lingering in the air and on his microphone. The fire in his belly roiled to life once again. Stupid little thing. Making his life just that much more difficult and wonderful than it already was.

Precious, lewd little thing. His heartbeat quickened as the rush of lust came back. He’d had all intentions of taking out his frustrations on your more than willing body but seeing you like this, needing your rest, he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

But it didn’t mean he wouldn’t get his end. With one knee on the bed, he approached you, wanting to be as close as he could without disturbing your slumber. His hand found his needy cock once again, palm warm and inviting as he stroked from the base to tip. His other hand wound itself in your hair, gently petting you and relishing your warmth as his hand worked his member over your sleeping form.

His ears picked up the sound of your breathing, gentle and soft, just like everything about you. And you let someone like him defile that softness. He swallowed, drool already pooling in his mouth at the meal in front of him that he could not devour as he wished to.

The smell of your shared bed, your sex, your cum, your want lingering in the air. It enveloped him completely. This was his home. His den. His lover. His mate. While the little broadcast was exquisite, the live thing would always be better.

And he can wait for you to get better. Oh, all the things he would do to you once you were well. Just, he needed to take the edge off a little. He breathed in and let himself get lost in the feeling, the heat of his body rising and he got close to his climax again. His hips bucked into his hand, chasing that high as he watched your peaceful face. Shudders racked his body. He was so close. If only he could hear you call his name with that pretty voice of yours.

“Alastor?” His breath hitched. His hand had unconsciously clenched in your hair, not enough to hurt but it did stir you awake. His eyes met yours and his climax finally hit him under your stare. The knot in his stomach unwound and he watched his cum spurt without his control. Some of it splattered onto your bewildered face, causing you to flinch.

“D-did you just…?” A small hand went up to the new stains on your face, wiping the smear onto your fingers as you studied it as if you couldn’t comprehend exactly what it was. Fair enough. This wasn’t behavior he ever would have done before he met you. He was slightly embarrassed by that but there was something satisfying about seeing his cum on your cheek.

“Well, you did too, didn’t you?” A clawed hand carded through your hair, slightly smearing it with his spend though you were still too bewildered to notice. His voice was husky, still riding high as his body sang in completion. You blushed madly as you remembered what you’d done and why he was here, like this.

“T-that’s—“

“Hush. Don’t worry about it, darling. Though it did get me a little worked up.” With a few snaps of his fingers, you were both cleaned up and the bed made around you. It took more effort to do as all he wanted to was collapse next to you but no. He had to make sure you were comfortable before he did. As lovely a sight that you made, he wouldn’t let you rest in filth.

Neither of you spoke as he climbed to his side of the bed, sitting against the headboard while you looked at him from where you laid. Perhaps your stillness slowed your brain processes as well. You still seemed tense, shocked. He started petting your head, an action that calmed you just as much as it did him. He needed just a few moments.

When complete clarity finally returned to him, he faced you, a teasing grin on his lips as his eyes narrowed.

“I hope you know…” He leaned down to peer into your eyes, holding your gaze and relishing his lone figure reflected in its shine. His eyes roamed over your body, a slow take that he was sure you caught before he looked into your eyes and continued. Despite having only just finished, electric lust still buzzed in his chest, vibrating through his voice as he growled low a promise to the little troublemaker. “…that when you’ve fully recovered, darling, you shouldn’t expect to get out of this bed for a long while.”

Beneath his palm, you trembled, your little shakes traveling from his fingertips to his cock. Your eyes switched from confusion to dread, sensing the underlying threat and seduction in his tone. He traced a lazy pattern on your cheek, cupping the supple flesh to feel the fever induced heat. Like a demure little creature, you leaned into his touch.

And like the wretched little thing you were, you casually drew his thumb into your hot mouth, all of that sweet dread replaced by even sweeter confidence. With eyes never leaving his own, you gave his thumb a bold slow lick. He held back the urge to press his thumb down into that lascivious tongue.

“Looking forward to it…” The tease had the gall to smirk at him, teeth lightly prickling his captured appendage. Clarity and mirth sparkled in your eyes. “Lover.”

AO3

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfic #alastor #hazbin alastor #hazbin fanfic #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor x reader #smut #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel smut #alastor x you #hazbin alastor x reader

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forever-rogue · 6 months ago

Note

i saw you wanted tasm Peter requests and I’m here to provide! 😭✨💕

how about a fake dating-ish meet cute where you feel scared walking home bc of some sketchy looking people following you and you grab Peter’s (who lives in the same building as you) hand and ask him to pretend to be your boyfriend and he readily goes along with it bc he’s always had a crush on you. I just think he would be so sweet and worried later when you get home bc you’d looked super scared

AN | No but I love this idea!! It’s sort of a meet-cute!❤️

Pairing | tasm!Peter Parker x fem!reader

Warnings | mild language

Word Count | 2.5k

Masterlist | Main | Peter

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You weren't drunk.

Not drunk-drunk anyway but mildly tipsy. Or wholly tipsy if you were being completely honest with yourself.

Anyways, that wasn't the problem, at least not entirely. Walking home through New York, late at night and tipsy by yourself, a young woman on her own, probably wasn't the best idea. But the party had dragged on and on and your friends had already left with their…friends for the night, and you were tired, hungry, and bored.

So you decided to walk home. You somehow managed to convince yourself that brisk evening stroll would make you feel better. You hadn't been wrong for the most part but as once you got closer to your apartment building, an uneasy feeling started settling into your stomach.

You looked around, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, but you could see that there were two guys that seemed to be watching you. You ignored it for a bit, but when you noticed that they seemed to cross every street that you could, and turned all the same corners, you grew worried.

Trying to keep the panic at bay and act normal proved to be difficult. You thought for a moment that you might have been paranoid or overreacting but you'd seen enough true crime documents to know that it was better to be safe than sorry.

Your salvation came in the form of the man that lived in the apartment across from you.

You vaguely knew him and were almost positive his name was Peter Parker. You just hoped right now that he'd help.

Speeding up, you caught up to him a few moments, quickly reaching for his arm and stepping in front of him.

“Hi, hi,” your eyes were wide and he immediately grew concerned, “I know we don't really know each but we live in the same building, you're actually across the hall from me. I - this is - can you please pretend to be my boyfriend? Just for a little bit? There's these two guys that have been following me for a while now and I'm-”

“It’s okay,” he whispered, gently cutting you off as he instinctively reached for your hand. It felt like a huge weight had been lifted as you laced your fingers through his and fell into step with him, “I'll take care of you.”

You squeezed his arm, “thank you.”

He nodded and turned around a corner to see the men you were referring to. When he spotted the duo that you had to be talking about, he shot them a warning glare. At a few moments, he could see realization cross their features before they seemingly altered their path.

He made sure to keep an eye out on the rest of the way back to the building. Luckily he didn't see them again. He hoped that they hadn't decided to go and find someone else.

It felt like you could breathe again as you pulled your hand from his and turned to face him. You were taken aback for a moment by how beautiful he was. Sure, you'd been him around the building plenty of times before but you'd never gotten to look at him this closely.

“Thank you,” your voice was soft - gentle - was you offered him a small smile, “I thought that maybe I was going crazy for a bit and then I kept seeing them. I just didn't want anything to happen. Thank you for probably saving me from them. It's, sorry, you're Peter, right?”

“I am,” he nodded as you offered him your hand for a proper shake and introduction. He said your name and you looked at him in surprise, “we've been neighbors a while and I just…caught it sometime. I'm glad I found you too. Are you sure you're okay?”

“I'm cold, hungry, and slightly buzzed but I'm alright,” you promised, “thanks to you. I swear I owe you big time.”

“You don't owe me anything,” he insisted as he started to shrug off his zip-up sweater. He'd noticed the dress you were wearing and wondered if you'd been cold. He held it out to you, causing you to look at him with sweet eyes, “take it. I don't want you to be cold.”

You already knew better than to argue with him so you gratefully it took and slipped it on, immediately overwhelmed by his delicious scent, “thank you, Peter.”

“Do you want to get something to eat?” He wasn't entirely sure if he'd meant to ask, but it just sort of blurted out, “I-I was thinking about ordering some pizza.”

Liar. He was a damned dirty liar. He hadn't thought about pizza but he also hadn't wanted to let you just leave to go to your apartment. Not now, not yet.

“Yeah?” Your face lit up and he nodded shyly. He'd order the whole pizzeria if you wanted just from that smile alone, “that sounds good.”

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Realistically, you probably shouldn't have just trusted Peter so readily, especially since you'd just had the run-in with the creeps on your walk home. But there was something about Peter that told you that he was trustworthy.

So you didn't hesitate to follow him up the stairs to the floor where both of your apartments were. You stopped instinctively at your door and Peter paused for a moment.

“Listen, I don't want to make you uncomfortable or anything,” you appreciated the fact that he seemed to be able to read your mind, “do you want to meet on the fire escape once the pizza's here?”

“Yeah,” you nodded softly, “I'll see you in a little bit.”

“Sounds good,” he started to open his door but quickly turned around, “wait! I didn't even ask you what kind of pizza you like.”

Your laugh was pretty as you turned and gave him your requests. He offered you a small salute before both of you went into your respective apartments. You closed the door gently and leaned against it, letting out a small sigh.

This evening had definitely taken a turn that you hadn't been expecting. But somehow, it turned out a lot better than you had imagined. Plus, you finally got to really meet and speak to the cute boy next door. He'd caught your eye from the moment he'd moved into the building, but you'd never quite managed to work up the courage to say anything besides the neighborly hello here and there. And now…now you were wearing his sweater and going to have pizza with him.

You almost danced to your bedroom and spent entirely too much time trying to pick out something comfortable but cute. You wanted to be warm and cozy but didn't want to look like you were trying too hard.

You ended up settling on a pair of leggings and a t-shirt, but pulled Peter's sweater back on. You wanted to hang onto it for as long as possible. You managed to slide on your slippers as you heard a knock on your door.

“Pull yourself together,” you hissed at your reflection, “and act normal…somewhat normal.”

Slowing your walk to the door, you opened it in an attempt to look casual. Peter had the same idea and had changed into a pair of gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt. You almost choked on your spit at the sight. What a bastard.

“Ready for some pizza?” You nodded as you followed him towards the fire escape at the end of the hall. He slid open the window and stepped out, offering you his hand to help you. You didn't hesitate to take his hand, trying not think too much about his large his hand was compared to yours, “nice sweater by the way.”

“You better watch it or I'm going to steal it forever,” Peter really liked the sound of your laugh. He wanted to bottle it up and keep it with him forever.

“Keep it,” he insisted sweetly, “looks better on you anyway.”

“Stop,” you groaned as you sat down, gently pushing his side, “that's how you get a girl to call in love with you.”

“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow as his cheeks pinked, “is it working then?”

He didn't know why he felt so bold or what had gotten into him but he was feeling something. Maybe it was just your magnetic presence but there was something about you that made him feel so warm and comfortable.

“Peter,” you weren't about to admit that the answer was yes so you just scoffed and rolled your eyes playfully, “I should have said makes all other girls fall in love.”

“Mhmm,” he opened the pizza box and nudged angled it towards you, “dig in. I hope you like it because it's from one of my favorite places.”

“It better be good then or I'm afraid I'll never speak to you again,” you teased, grabbing a slice and taking a big bite. Peter watched you with an amused as you quickly realized that this was indeed delicious pizza. You quickly finished the rest of the slice before offering him a nod, “alright you've passed this test. The pizza is delicious.”

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“It's getting pretty late,” you said softly as you looked at the softly glowing screen of your phone. It was a lot later than you had realized; the two of you had ended up talking for hours, the pizza all but gone, “we should probably head inside.”

“Yeah,” he agreed reluctantly, “you're right.”

“I had a good time though,” you promised as he nodded shyly, “thanks for saving me tonight…and all of this. It's times like this that remind me that not all people are terrible.”

“It's no problem,” he insisted, “I'm glad I was there when you needed me. I had a good time tonight, regardless of how we got here.”

“Me too,” you offered his shoulder a squeeze before heading back inside and waiting for him to do the same, “I'll see you around, Peter.”

“See you around,” the two of you went into your respective apartments and you quietly shut the door, trying to hold in your sounds of excitement. Your night had taken a complete 180 but you weren't complaining. You'd been wanting to meet the boy for the last couple of years and now that you'd gotten to spend some time with him, you only wanted more.

The question then was - how do you spend more time with Peter Parker without making it obvious you might have fallen in love with him?

You’d figured that out sometime later. Right now you were going to soak all of the good feelings you had into your body as you went to bed.

Little did you know that just across the hall, Peter was doing the exact thing.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You tried to run into Peter after that evening whenever you could. You would slowly leave for work in the morning and then take your sweet time coming home in the hopes that you would run into him somewhere in the building. But over the next couple of weeks, you managed to have no luck. It suddenly seemed like he had an opposite schedule of yours. For a moment you wondered if it was on purpose, but you knew that he wouldn’t do that.

Peter was hoping for the same thing; work and his…extracurricular activities kept him busier than ever. He had to be at the lab early in the mornings and often wasn’t coming home till the midnights hours. There were a few times when he’d contemplated knocking on your door, even if he just got to see your pretty face for a few moments. But he didn’t want to disturb you so he kept on waiting for the right moment to see you again.

It turned out that the right moment happened to be when you were getting ready to go out with some friends one evening and Peter was coming home, looking run down and tired. His face and entire being lit up at the sight of you. Your heart was beating so fast that you were sure that he would be able to hear it (unbeknownst to you, he definitely heard it) or it would burst out of your chest.

“Hey-”

“Hi-” the two of you spoke at the same time before looking at each other sheepishly. You felt like your entire face was on fire as you looked at your feet for a moment to study your nerves, “hey Peter. I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.”

“I know,” he tried to contain his excitement when he realized that you had been missing him as well, “I can’t believe our luck. For years we saw each other all the time and now…nothing. Kind of feels like the universe is laughing at us.”

“I thought about coming over,” you admittedly sheepishly, “but I didn’t want to bug you. I wasn’t sure how you late you were working or…yeah.”

“I thought about the same thing,” he confessed as you grinned at him, “but I’ve been working longer hours so I’d get home late and didn’t want to bother you.”

“You wouldn’t have been a bother,” you shrugged it off, trying to make it seem like no big deal when in fact it was a huge deal.

“Good to know,” he huffed a small laugh before clearing his throat, “I should, ugh, let you go. I don’t want to keep you from your date or whatever plans you have.”

“It’s not a date,” you said quickly, wanting to shut that train of thinking down right away, “I was just going to meet a few friends for dinner and drinks.”

“Cool,” he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t relieved to hear that, “I hope you have fun.”

“Unless you’re not busy and want to get dinner,” you only had a bit of courage left as you got the words, wondering how he’d react, “like together I mean.”

“I’m not busy, I’m free,” his stomach felt like it was doing backflips, “but are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’ll just text my friends,” you waved your hand dismissively as you pulled out your phone, “they won’t mind. Trust me.”

They really wouldn’t. They’d been hoping and rooting for you to get with the pretty boy next door for some time now.

“Cool,” that was an understatement, “let me just go and change and then we can go. I’ll come to yours in a few minutes.

“Okay,” you breathed nervously, unable to hide the smile on your face.

“Okay,” he agreed softly, his eyes and smile big and pretty, “luckily this time it’ll only be a few minutes and not weeks.”

“It was too long.”

“Definitely.”

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x fem!reader #peter parker one shot #peter parker imagine #andrew!peter #andrew garfield #tasm!peter

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