#if she was that sad about not seeing him for like

[nadvs]

the power play (part eight) (end)

pairing hockeyplayer! rafe cameron x tutor! reader

rating mature 18+

summary rafe is your complete opposite. the only thing you have in common with the hockey player you tutor is that he’s also recently had his heart broken. in a last-ditch effort to make the people who hurt you regret it, you agree to pretend to date.

Time folds into itself as you lie in Rafe’s bed, slipping in and out of a tired daze, lulled by the sound of his heartbeat.

When he shifts and exhales a sharp wince, you don’t know how many minutes have passed, but you’re sure it’s time to leave, to give him all the space he can get in his bed.

“I should go,” you whisper, sitting up slowly.

He’s in a trance, his shoulder aching, exhaustion seeped into his bones.

Your warmth is gone.

He sees your figure in the dark.

You leave as quietly as possible.

════════

The next day, Rafe walks out through the campus gym doors after meeting with his coach and physical therapist. Turns out the tear isn’t nearly as bad as it could’ve been, but as expected, there’s no chance in hell he can play for a while. He’s out of tournament.

He’s lost. It’s like he forgot his own name. Hockey is the constant in his life, or it was, and it’s messing with his head that he won’t be spending hours training or practicing or playing anymore. Instead, he’ll either be in physio or resting, and the closest he can get to the ice is on the bench.

His coach had said that at least it happened at the end of the season, that he’s only a sophomore with so much ahead of him, but all Rafe can feel is disappointment ripping through him.

His phone buzzes with a text from you.

I hope you’re ok. Guessing you can’t make it today?

Right. It’s Thursday. He’s supposed to meet you for tutoring in an hour.

If he never hurt himself last night, if today was a normal day, he’d be in class right now, his morning workout done, his body buzzing with the hot anticipation that he feels every time he’s about to see you.

But today’s far from normal. You said nothing after he kissed you last night. He’s an idiot for making a move on a girl who’d told him so many times that she doesn’t want a boyfriend.

But you’re the one who curled up next to him, who cried over his pain as if it were your own, who told him you care about him.

It’s insane what you do to him. He never runs in circles like this, never dwells on what a girl might be thinking, because he doesn’t have to. In any other situation, he’d cut to the chase and tell you that he wants you.

But the embarrassment from what happened last night still stings. He wouldn’t survive it, hearing you say you don’t see him like that, that you’re not looking for a relationship. When he’s so sure it’d end in an awkward rejection, what’s the point?

After everything that happened in the last 24 hours, it’s a loss he wouldn’t be able to cope with.

════════

You’re writing in your agenda as you wait in the study room, your pen smoothly gliding over paper. Your phone is sitting beside your notebook, and you unlock it to reread Rafe’s text from half an hour ago.

I can make it.

You’re tense about seeing him after last night.

You don’t know what to do. There’s no misinterpreting it. He kissed your forehead and there’s no way he would do that if he didn’t feel something deeper than friendship for you.

Still, it’s sad how hard it is to believe that a guy sees you like that, all because of the mark that Beck left on you. Rafe had once called you clueless about this stuff, and he was right.

The memory of how he’d snapped at you in the car that night serves as a reminder of how cold he can be, and how you’re not entirely confident you could handle loving someone like that.

You’re carrying too much baggage. So is he. You’d thought Rafe came into your life at the perfect time, but if anything, the timing couldn’t be worse.

You’re still working through your heartbreak and you don’t know if you can be with someone when you need to work on yourself. Especially when that someone distances himself from you whenever you ask the wrong question.

You’re scared. If you gave Rafe your heart, truly, all the way, there’s no telling if it’d be in good hands.

His broad figure appears in the doorway, his expression guarded.

“Hey.”

“Hi,” you say. You motion to your own arm, immediately noticing that he’s not wearing the sling you saw him in last night. “You don’t need the…?”

“It’s not that bad,” Rafe murmurs, nudging the door shut with his good elbow.

“I thought you tore it,” you say, your voice laced with concern. He sits down with his elbow bent, his injured arm tight against his body.

“I’m not going to need surgery or anything,” he repeats what he discussed earlier at the gym. “Few months of physio and meds and I’ll be good.”

“And rest, right?” you say. “You forgot to mention rest.”

“What do you know?” he says with a small smirk.

You mirror his smile, glad that although something so awkward is weighing over both of you, you can share a lighthearted moment.

“A lot,” you reply. You hold up your pen. “Do I need to give you another reminder tattoo?”

He scoffs, but he’s not sure he could tell you no if he tried, especially if the offer includes you touching him.

To your surprise, he lays his forearm on the desk. You chuckle, leaning forward, gently writing rest! on the inside of his wrist, right where you’d written your study room number on him all those nights ago.

“I think I have a future in this,” you say, admiring your work. He gazes at you as you tilt your head and blow cool air over the wet ink. “How are you?”

“Good,” he answers, in a melancholy daze. “You?”

“I’m good,” you reply. You meet his eyes again. “So, only a few months until you’re better? What’s the healing process going to be like?”

“The physio gave me a whole list of crap I gotta do,” he answers with a sigh.

“Do you have it with you?”

He hands you the sheet of paper jammed at the side of his backpack. You read over the instructions, tips on managing pain, on the importance of nutrition and rest, on avoiding rigorous activities.

You skim over one of the bullet-points in the middle. Sleep on your back with the injured arm supported.

“They even tell you how to sleep?” you try to joke. “So, you shouldn’t have someone else on top of you. Lesson learned.”

What happened last night is out in the open now, the atmosphere strained with tension. Your eyes are still on the page. He can see you’re uncomfortable and he respects that you’re addressing it.

“I shouldn’t have…” He grimaces, embarrassed all over again. He has no choice but to brush the kiss off, to lie his way out of this. “I was on a lot of painkillers last night.”

He wants you to look disappointed so badly that it makes him ache, because then he’d take his words back and call bullshit on himself. But when you glance up at him, the look on your face is one of relief.

“Don’t worry about it,” you say, looking back down at the paper. You’re alleviated of your anxiety. He either didn’t mean the kiss, or he doesn’t want it to turn into something, and it’s better this way. Safer. “How often do you have to do therapy?”

Rafe tells himself he can deal with the hurt later, that now’s not the time to lose it, even though he’s on the edge. He pulls his laptop out of his bag, finding it so much harder now that he can’t use both arms.

“Twice a week,” he answers, his words stiff.

“And exercises you have to do on your own,” you murmur sympathetically, reading over the page. “This is a lot. I bet you can get accommodations for school. Deadline extensions at the very least.”

You put the paper down, smoothing out the wrinkles, trying to make sense of why your heart is racing right now. Rafe throws you for such a loop that you don’t even know how it’s possible to be both eased and troubled by him shrugging off what happened last night.

“I’m really sorry you can’t play anymore,” you tell him.

“Nothing I can do about it now.”

His scowl is hard as he logs in onto his computer, typing with one hand.

“I’m not just saying this,” you tell him. “The team wouldn’t have made it so far without you.”

He doesn’t need the reminder of what he’s lost, the agony of how much work he put in just to spend the rest of the school year behind the boards.

“Those guys will be fine,” he says with a sardonic chuckle.

It hurts you to see him so sure of it.

“No way,” you reply. “They’ll miss you.”

His throat is raw and he wishes he could just disappear right now, because he’s seconds away from breaking down. His eyes burn and he swallows it down, forcing everything he’s feeling away.

“Let’s not do this, okay?” he says sharply, his gaze still off you.

And with that, Rafe proves your point. That it’s not just you who might be emotionally unavailable, but him, too. Even after what you’d done last night, even after you’ve shared so much with him, you’re kept at an arm’s length, good enough to kiss, but not good enough to be honest with.

“Did you finish the book?” you ask.

“No,” he states, stoic and disinterested.

You’d normally call him out for his bad attitude, but after what he’s gone through, you’d just feel guilty for it.

You compel yourself to just be his tutor right now – not his friend, not the girl he pretended to date – but his tutor, tasked with one job and one job only.

Rafe finally lets his eyes land where they want to be most, on you, when you ask if you can take his laptop to start working on the next assignment.

But you won’t look at him back. He can tell that you don’t want to.

════════

The moment Rafe gets to his dorm room after your tutoring session, he feels like he’s stalling with nothing left to drive him. His thoughts are tangled together, his body aches, and he has no idea what to do next.

He sits on the edge of his bed. He should probably look over those recovery instructions again, email his profs and teaching assistants about accommodations, do some school work to keep himself busy, but it’s like he’s frozen.

He looks down at the floor, his vision going blurry. The only person, if anyone, he could talk to about this right now is you.

But he can’t even do that. Especially not when you’re mad at him. He snapped, and then you were distant and talked only about his schoolwork for the rest of your hour together.

He feels like shit for how he treated you. He didn’t expect to do it, but you can be so stubborn, forcing him to talk about shit that he can’t talk about.

He lies in bed, still in painful disbelief of how quickly things can change, and how he has no control over any of them.

════════

It’s nearing six p.m. when Rafe wakes up. He checks his messages, hoping you texted him like he always does when he picks up his phone. But of course, there’s nothing from you.

He reads over the team’s group chat texts that he didn’t get to answering. After a few messages asking Rafe how he is after Coach told everyone he’s out for the season, some of the guys texted about a party tonight.

Being surrounded by noise and getting a break from reality sounds like just what he needs. And because he misses you and has no willpower when it comes to you, he texts you: Down to go to a party tonight?

You reply minutes later: Look at your tattoo.

He smirks to himself, glancing down at the word you’d written on his skin, and texts you again: I’ll just be standing there. That counts as rest.

You’re walking through campus to grab dinner, staring at your phone as you weave through crowds, your stomach in a knot.

It’s been that way since Rafe left the study room earlier today. You hate that you’re back in this headspace, overanalyzing, wondering what a man really feels about you.

You did it for years with Beck, going back and forth between being sure he liked you and feeling sad that he didn’t.

It shouldn’t be this complicated. You have fun with Rafe. He gets you, and you think you get him. He’s flawed, but so are you, and that doesn’t mean things can’t work out.

But it feels impossible. You’re not sure you can give each other what you both need. And you’re still hurting from the way he’d brushed you off today yet again, refusing to let you in.

With an aching heart, you text back: Sorry, I can’t tonight.

════════

Rafe’s limbs are heavy and hot as he leans against a wall, surrounded by his closest friends on the team. He’s letting them do the talking, too in his head to even think about having any real fun.

He wishes you were here.

He heads towards the kitchen to grab a drink. He spots a familiar face. And it’s the last thing he needs.

“Hey,” Emma says, leaning over the counter as she fills up a cup. “Where’s your little girlfriend? Not hanging onto you like usual?”

It’s the first words she’s spoken to him since their breakup. That night feels like a lifetime ago.

“What the fuck are you doing talking to me?” he mutters.

Her eyebrow raises in that infuriating way that tells him she’s enjoying getting a rise out of him.

“Warning you,” she laughs. “She’s kind of twisted. I don’t know if a normal person would hear all about your red flags and then like, cling onto you.”

“What’d you say to her?” he asks, his jaw tensing.

“She didn’t tell you?”

“We don’t talk about you.”

Rafe hates that it’s a lie, that he wasted so much of his limited time with you talking about someone else.

“I just told her the truth,” she says.

His nostrils flare as he glares down at her, at a loss for how he ever thought he saw any good in her. After he’s gotten to know you, after he’s seen what it’s like when someone treats him like he’s not a burden, he could never want someone like Emma again.

“I’m sure it’s nothing she hasn’t seen for herself by now,” she says when he doesn’t respond. “Obviously, she heard what an asshole you are. That must be her type. Or it could’ve been the part I said about how pathetic you were, crying to get back together. Maybe she wants to fix you.”

So, that was your first impression of him. That’s what you’ve kept from him.

Rafe heads back to his friends without saying another word. There was a time he was dying for Emma to talk to him. Now, he can’t waste another second around her.

He got what he wanted. She’s jealous. And that guy he saw her with before isn’t around.

He won.

But the victory is hollow.

════════

“It’s not pretty,” Isaac tells you, one foot outside the locker room, “but I got everybody to write something.”

“Thank you,” you say, taking the card. You look around the hall again, as if Rafe will catch you, even though you know he wouldn’t be in this part of the arena right before the semi-final game.

“I did say I owe you,” he replies.

“He’s watching from the bench?” you ask.

“Yeah,” Isaac answers, wincing. “How is he?”

“Fine, I guess,” you reply with a sad shrug. “He won’t really talk about it.”

You haven’t heard from Rafe since last night after you texted him back. But based on how Isaac’s acting, you can tell he hasn’t told anyone about your breakup, saving you from having to come up with any explanations.

“The guy’s a vault,” Isaac half-chuckles.

You nod, glancing down at the card, opening it up to see messy, scribbled messages from the guys on the hockey team written across the inside.

You’d bought the blank card at an on-campus convenience store after asking Isaac if the team did anything to commemorate Rafe after his forced departure. When he told you everyone was too preoccupied with the tournament, you took it upon yourself to do something.

You’re not upset with Rafe anymore. Not after you’ve taken time to reflect that he doesn’t have to tell you anything he doesn’t want to, no matter how much you wish he would. Not when you recall how heartbroken he was when he insinuated that his teammates won’t miss him.

“It’s nice of you to do this for him,” Isaac offers.

“Thanks. I think he needs to hear that people care about him.” You take a step back. “Good luck tonight.”

════════

It’s difficult for you to even imagine watching the semi-finals. You tell Lyla you’re too swamped with studying to attend.

The truth is that you know sitting in those stands will just make you feel the lack of Rafe, the wrongness of him not being on the ice, the gap in your chest that he left.

It’ll break your heart to see him on the bench, instead of in the game where he belongs.

You stop by his dorm room to slide the card under his door. And then, you go home to distract yourself with schoolwork, hoping that with enough time, you can finally feel like yourself again.

════════

You send the text a few minutes after you check to see that the team won, left with one more game to potentially win the championship.

Can you come over?

Nerves stitch your stomach when you receive his response that he’ll be there in twenty minutes.

Eventually, there are soft raps on your door, and when you open it, Beck looks exactly how you expected him to. Confused.

“I’m going to talk,” you tell him, “and I want you to listen and be honest with me, got it?”

He nods, brows furrowed as you step aside. He walks into your room, leaning against your desk as you sit on your bed.

You take a deep breath, nervous but already relieved that years of pressure will be off your shoulders after you say this.

“You know what you did to me,” you say, “and I don’t want you to pretend like you don’t. You strung me along. For years. You knew I liked you, didn’t you?”

Beck glances to the side, adjusting in his haphazard seat.

“It's not like I…” he mumbles.

“What?”

“I liked you, too,” he says, looking like it pains him to admit it. “I – I do like you. Still.”

It’s not what you expected.

“Since when?” you say in a huff of disbelief.

“It’s been a long time,” he answers.

You can only scoff. He sighs, clearly uncomfortable.

“You’re my sister’s best friend,” he says quietly. “Can you imagine how weird it would be if it didn’t work out?”

It’s a sudden, overwhelming realization, hitting you like an ice cold wave. The only reason he never acted on his feelings was because he was afraid of a mere possibility. Maybe it wouldn’t end well, so he saw no reason to even try.

“That’s why?” you say. “Why not just tell me?”

“Because of this,” he says tensely, motioning between you.

“Because of an awkward conversation?” you say. “How is that any better than what happened after your final? You stopped talking to me after that.”

“I thought… with time, we’d go back to how it was,” he mumbles. “And that maybe, we’d both just lose feelings. But then you started dating Rafe and… I can’t handle seeing it. You shouldn’t be with him.”

You hate how he said Rafe’s name, as if it was a swear word. It’s the only thing you can focus on. Not that he just told you what you’ve been wanting to hear for years. Just that he speaks about Rafe like he’s bad.

And Rafe isn’t bad. He can be difficult and short-tempered, but he can also be warm. Passionate. Funny. Caring.

And you love him.

Damn it. You love him.

“I don’t need you worrying about who I’m dating, okay?” you say sharply. “Maybe if you were a friend, sure, but you’re barely even that anymore.”

“Why are you talking like this?”

Beck seems jarred by your contempt. You’re surprised yourself. You always thought you’d sugarcoat your words with him, that you’d care about his feelings too much to ever be brutally transparent.

But this is necessary. And you realize you couldn’t have gotten here without Rafe.

“Because I deserve honesty,” you say. You let out a shaky sigh. “I know you didn’t want to have a hard conversation, but avoiding it led to this. An even harder one. You weren’t wrong to worry that we would never work out. We wouldn’t. I just want things to be civil from now on. Like you said, Lyla’s my best friend.”

Beck shakes his head slightly. It almost looks like he had some semblance of hope that this conversation would go another direction.

“You know he’ll just hurt you, right?” he says. “I saw him fighting with his old girlfriend all the time. He’s a jerk.”

“You don’t know him,” you mutter. “And you’re in no place to call him that. Not after how you treated me. You expected I’d always be on the sidelines, waiting for you, and then got mad when I started seeing someone else. It isn’t fair.”

Beck shakes his head in frustration and walks to the door, but stops himself before he turns the doorknob.

“I’m sorry,” he says, his back still to you. “You’re right. Let’s… be civil.”

It’s a glimpse into why you once liked him so much. He has a soft heart, desperate to run from conflict. But conflict is inevitable. And you can’t be with someone who doesn’t see that.

“Okay,” you say to his back.

The door shuts behind Beck with a hard thud, closing a chapter you’re glad to see end.

════════

You eventually text Rafe: Are you going out with the team? I’m free. Just saying.

Now more than ever, you miss him. It feels silly to distance yourself, to do exactly what Beck did with you and stay away from someone just because there’s a chance that it’ll end badly.

Every part of you longs for him, for the feeling you get when you’re around him, and you can only hope he wants to see you tonight, too.

He responds that he’s on his way to pick you up.

════════

Rafe pulls up to your building, unable to stop his mind from stumbling down memory lane. He idled here for the first time so long ago, with only revenge on his mind, waiting for a ridiculously cheerful and talkative girl to sit in his passenger seat.

When you open the car door and flaunt your bright smile as you climb in, it’s like his heart found its way back to him, like you hold onto it when you aren’t together and parade it around when you are.

“Was it you?” he asks.

“Was what me?” you say.

“The card.”

You grin, glad he got a chance to go back to his room before coming to pick you up. You don’t need the recognition. You’re just glad he seems happy about it.

You notice both of his hands on the steering wheel, recalling how he could only type with one a few days ago.

“Nice,” you say, buckling your seatbelt. “Your pain meds must be working. That’s great. I have to tell you something. I finally talked to Beck. I kind of… told him off, I guess. And… you can say you told me so. You were right. He did like me. Or actually, he does. It was a lot to take in.”

Rafe grimaces, hating to hear that the guy you once said you loved told you he wants you, too. He drives out onto the road, his body tense.

“I told him that it’ll never happen,” you continue. “And he was bitter. And he’s convinced things are going to end badly with you and me. I wonder how we should tell people we’re broken up. Do we just… mention it if they ask? I haven’t told anyone. You haven’t either, right?”

You finally look over at him, gazing at his profile.

Rafe is relieved that you really are done with Beck, that you’re acting like yourself, that you’re in his car again, rambling, filling his life with a light he never had before.

He’d rather not talk about your fake breakup. And definitely not about Beck. He doesn’t have it in him to waste any time with you focusing on someone who hurt you.

“Just admit it,” he murmurs.

“Admit what?”

“The card,” he mutters playfully.

You sigh, realizing he won’t let you get away with not taking credit for it.

“Did Isaac tell you?” you ask.

“Nobody told me.”

“If you want to call me corny, just do it,” you laugh. “Never stopped you before.”

Rafe smiles sadly. Admittedly, it felt good to read the messages from the guys, seeing that they really will miss him. But he doesn’t deserve you doing that for him after the way he lost his cool on you.

“I thought you were pissed at me,” he says.

“I was, a little,” you confess.

“Sorry I snapped,” Rafe says regretfully. “If you were mad, then why’d you do it?”

His voice is soft, just like it was when he’d asked you why you came to his room the night he injured himself.

“That’s why,” you say. “You always seem so surprised that people care about you. I just wanted to give you proof that they do.”

You interlace your fingers together, glancing out the window.

“And it’s okay. I’m not mad anymore,” you say. “I think at some point, I started to take it personally when you don’t want to talk to me. Sorry. I don’t mean to force you. I’ll stop.”

Rafe taps his thumb on the steering wheel. For once, he doesn’t want you to stop.

“It’s because it’s new for me,” he mumbles, giving in.

“What?”

“Someone caring as much as you do is new for me,” he replies. “That’s why I seem surprised. It throws me off.”

Your lips part, but the words won’t form. You’re in shock that he’s opening up, especially when you didn’t ask him to, when you just told him you’ll stop pushing.

“And I’m not used to getting asked so many questions,” Rafe says. “You never stop.”

“I am kind of relentless,” you say, crinkling your nose and smiling. “You make me curious, though.”

“I can tell,” he mumbles, earning a chuckle from you. “We’re good now, yeah?”

You’re touched that he worries this much about you being upset with him. Some time in the last few months, throughout your tutoring sessions and the events you attended as a fake couple and all the moments in between, he really did start caring about you.

It’s nice, because you feel the same way about him. How deep those feelings go remains unspoken, and you’re not sure you can face them yet.

“We’re good,” you reply. “I can’t stay mad at you. You’re too charming. In like, a really grumpy, always mad at everything type of way.”

“Wow,” Rafe huffs, pretending to be offended while flashing the smile you always get hypnotized by.

“Was that rude?” you quip. “You’re rubbing off on me.”

His smile widens, certain now that if he only has you like this, as a friend, it’s so much better than not having you at all.

════════

“How’d that presentation go?” Rafe mumbles in your ear.

You’re standing on the bar’s back patio with the team and the rest of the usual social circle, surrounded by music and chatter floating through the warm late spring air.

You’re right next to him, but not touching in any way, because there’s no reason to fake affection anymore. But knowing this doesn’t make it any easier to stay away from him.

“For my group project?” you clarify. “Picture me and three guys in front of a full lecture hall. They’re taking turns reading off of Wikipedia and I’m trying to pretend that I’m not losing my mind.”

Rafe chuckles, enamored.

“I got a good individual grade, though,” you say. “Wait. Did you ever check what you got on your midterm?”

“No.”

“Please do,” you say, bringing your clasped hands to your chin.

He sucks his teeth, a little nervous as he pulls his phone out of his pocket. He feels your cheek against his good shoulder as you lean in to look.

“An A,” you say proudly, leaning against him, your hand curled around his bicep. You did it without thinking, the closeness feeling more natural than anything you’ve felt before, a hard contrast to how hesitant you’d once been to touch him.

“Thought we broke up,” he murmurs, glancing down at your hand on his arm. It’s his way of testing why you’re touching him like this, aching to hear you say you’re doing it because you want to.

You look up through your lashes, eyes trained on his, silence sweeping over you. You have to feel it, too. He’s sure of it.

“Right,” you reply with a chuckle, hoping to smile your way out of the split in your chest. “Yeah. We are.”

You let go, crossing your arms as you awkwardly look away. You should have known your instincts were wrong, that Rafe is just another guy leading you on, confusing you, whether it be on purpose or not.

He can’t take what it feels like when you pull away like that. He once thought he could handle not acting on his feelings for you, but he can’t. He needs to know what’s so wrong with him, if Emma’s words poisoned you before he even had a chance with you.

“Is it because of what she said?” he says, squaring his shoulders to face you, to try to separate both of you from the rest of the group.

“Is what because of-”

“Emma told me what she said to you,” he interrupts.

You gaze up at him, wide-eyed.

“You talked to her?” you ask. Imagining it wrings your heart out, jealousy pooling through you.

He nods, his jaw tight, looking at you like you’re the one who needs to explain something here. Your forehead crinkles, your face falling with disappointment.

“I thought you didn’t care what she thinks,” you say.

“I don’t.”

You look down, as if you can find the answer somewhere on the ground. Your heart is racing, your mind spinning.

“Are you okay?” you hear.

Rafe looks over his shoulder to see that Beck has walked over, staring at you.

“I’m fine,” you answer.

“I told you this would happen,” Beck says to you.

Rafe meets your eyes again to see that they’re glossed over with tears.

“Fuck off,” he mutters to Beck.

“I’m just looking out for her,” Beck says.

“I look out for her,” Rafe says angrily. His raised voice earns a few side-eyes, the conversations around you silencing.

“Do you?” Beck asks.

Rafe breathes a humorless chuckle, rage coursing through him as he turns around, his back to you, his fists clenched.

“Don’t,” you say. “You’ll get hurt.”

There’s a hole in Rafe’s chest when he hears the concern in your voice for Beck. But when he turns around, you’re gazing up at him instead.

“You’re already in enough pain,” you say to him, your eyes drifting over his aching shoulder. He stares at you in awe, again, like he’s in shock that you worry about him. “Let’s talk out front.”

You don’t wait for him to agree. You storm back into the bar, darting through the throngs of people, pushing the heavy entrance door.

Your shoes pad over the concrete, your breaths unstable as you pass by the small crowds outside the bar.

You round the corner, finding a quiet pocket of privacy in the dark parking lot, next to the wall. You turn to see Rafe right behind you, facing you, his chest heaving.

“What’d she tell you that she said to me, exactly?” you ask, crossing your arms.

Rafe is in disbelief that he led himself back to doing this, talking about his past relationship with you again, letting it bleed into whatever it is that he has with you.

“That I’m a pathetic asshole,” he begrudgingly answers, his features shadowed in the darkness. “That I – I cried.”

“Her words don’t mean anything,” you tell him.

“She’s right, though, isn’t she?” he asks. “You agree. Just be honest with me. Tell me all of it. No more bullshit.”

Tears continue to sting your eyes, afraid you’re going to hurt him, but too worn down to fight.

“She said you were moody and mean,” you relent, “and yes, that you called her crying when you wanted to get back together. And you know what? The only person I thought was an asshole was her. She’s the pathetic one, okay?”

Rafe searches your face, his features hard, in pain.

“She was horrible to you,” you say. “You deserve someone better.”

What’s left of his composure burns away. He drops his head, his breaths barely escaping his mouth. He’d do anything to be what you want. Who you need.

“Why can’t it be you?” he asks through a ragged exhale.

You still, your heart pounding in your ears. A tear escapes past your bottom lashes, a result of one of the most overwhelming days of your life.

“What?” you whisper. You brush the wetness off of your skin, silently begging him to look at you again.

“What is it about me that’s so wrong?” he rasps, his voice starting to strain, putting sound to the question that he’s asked himself his whole life.

Rafe finds it in him to meet your gaze, all too acquainted with the sinking feeling of begging someone to love him.

Your eyes sweep over his face, your lips parted in silent shock.

He’s tipping over the edge, in slow, splitting agony, waiting to hear the words he knows you’ll say so he can finally let the hope that’s still somehow living in him die.

“What are you...” you say quietly, needing to hear it, to be sure. “What are you saying? You want me?”

Rafe pinches the bridge of his nose, sending a frustrated, pained exhale towards the starry sky, your name laced in a groan.

“Yes,” he says clearly, staring at you again, frustrated and afraid. “So bad that it fucking hurts.”

You’re able to feel every inch of your body, yet you’re numb all over. It’s an overwhelming, euphoric rush, looking up at the man you’ve given your heart to and knowing for sure that he’s given you his.

You blink as you step a little closer, taking in every inch of him, his messy hair, his handsome face, unable to believe that there was a time you didn’t see the warmth behind his eyes.

You can’t find the words, and for once, you stop trying to. Instead, you follow your impulse and take one more step, your body brushing against his, tipping your chin up.

Rafe swallows hard, his veins tight and hot as your gaze flutters down to his lips.

“You said you wanted it to be real,” he says, a note of disbelief in his voice.

A smile tugs on your lips. In a moment like this, he’s considering what you’d told him about how you wanted your first kiss to be real, showing you how much he listens to the things you say, how much he cares about your comfort.

“It will be,” you say softly.

After wanting you so badly for so long, Rafe can’t be still for another second. He brings his hands up to cradle your face, ignoring the pinch of pain in his shoulder. His heart thumps as he leans closer and gently leads you towards him.

His lips press against yours and every piece of you melts away. You were wrong when you thought his kiss would either be rough or gentle. It’s both, the pressure perfect, the urgency just as present as the tenderness.

He kisses you deeper, his lips hot and soft. When he smiles beneath the kiss, you smile, too, hooking your arms around him, hands splayed over his firm back, because you can’t possibly have him any closer.

He gently guides you backwards, pressing you against the cool brick wall, your face still in his hands, holding you as if you could slip away.

Rafe is warm against you, shifting to kiss the corner of your lips, your cheek, your jaw, the side of your neck. His breath is warm on your skin as you try to catch yours, squeezing him.

He’s never been so sure that he’s where he’s supposed to be. It’s like you’re grounding him with how tight you’re holding him, ensuring him that he’s wanted.

He shifts to kiss your lips again, panting. He pulls back just enough to lock eyes with you, never having felt so lucky before.

But he’s unsure of how to even navigate this when you’ve told him you don’t want a relationship.

“‘I’ll wait,” he murmurs, his thumbs stroking your cheeks. “Until you’re ready.”

“Ready?” you ask.

“To date,” he says.

You smile up at him, your lips still warm from his. You know you both have work to do on yourselves, but you’re confident you can do it together.

“We already dated, didn’t we?” you tease. “I’m ready. If it’s you.”

He sighs a breath of relief, kissing you once more.

════════

You haven’t done much since you made it to Rafe’s dorm room.

You’ve been lying in bed together with your heads on his pillow, his desk lamp blanketing the room in a soft light, facing each other and talking.

“We didn’t tell anyone we were leaving,” you realize, even though you left the bar about half an hour ago.

The way your eyes widen in worry is so adorable to him that he can’t help but kiss you, and he loves that he doesn’t have to hold himself back from doing it anymore.

“Should we go back? Say sorry to everyone?” he murmurs, a smirk on his face.

“Don’t mock me,” you laugh.

“But it’s so easy.”

You scowl at him, although you’re hardly able to stifle your smile.

“Don’t be mad,” he chuckles, planting a kiss on your lips again. Your cheeks burn, still reeling from how intoxicating it is getting touched and kissed by him now that you know it’s real.

“Right, that’s your job,” you joke, nuzzling in, your forehead against his chest.

A pinch of shame digs into him, his hand running up and down the curve of your spine.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, all the happiness from his voice gone.

You shift back to look at him again.

“I was kidding,” you say, your voice thick with worry.

“Nah, it’s true,” Rafe says.

You bite your lip, studying him.

“Is there a reason?” you ask.

“I just… I’ve always been like this,” he admits. “Sometimes, I can’t feel anything but pissed off.”

“It’s an easy emotion to feel.” You gently trace shapes over his chest, your finger skimming over soft cotton. “They say anger is hurt’s bodyguard.”

“You read that somewhere, huh?”

“You know me so well.”

Rafe’s smile is sad. He had no reason to hold back, not anymore.

“Nobody’s ever tried to understand me like you do,” he admits, “and it was shitty of me to get mad at you for trying.”

“Being mad is comfortable for you,” you empathize. “I get it.”

He takes in a slow, deep breath, trying to ignore the tightness in his chest.

“I grew up around a lot of fighting,” he tells you. “It was a relief when my parents split up.”

Rafe’s stomach twists with discomfort, the memories rushing back, the pain of being at that damn birthday party and seeing such a happy family still cutting into him. Seeing a proud father. Seeing a mother who stays.

And he can’t believe he’s saying it out loud, and that he wants to, and that you didn’t even have to ask.

“But then my mom… stopped trying to be a mom,” he continues. “And I was left with my dad and my sisters and it was like to him, they could do no wrong and I was nothing but a fuck-up.”

You look into his eyes, unable to believe that he holds such a deep, painful wound. Earlier tonight, he asked you what was wrong with him. You can see now that he must have been asking himself that since he was a child.

“I was always trying to make him happy and it never stuck,” he tells you. “Then I started playing hockey and… I could let out how mad I was. And people liked me for it. I finally had a place to go and – and I hate not having it anymore.”

The puzzle pieces click together. Your instincts were right when you’d assumed he was much more sensitive than he let on, hiding behind anger when all he’s ever wanted was love.

Knowing he was in a relationship where he was pressured to hide those types of things makes the pang in your heart even sharper.

“It’s temporary,” you remind him. “You’ll get back out there. But there’s so much more to you than what a good player you are.”

“You think I’m good?” he says. “You didn’t write anything in the card.”

You breathe a chuckle, gently gripping his wrist, the ink you’d etched washed away now.

“I prefer to write on you,” you tease, then gaze up at him again with sincere adoration. “I’m so sorry that happened to you. Thank you for telling me. There’s nothing wrong with you, okay?”

He stares at you in concern, as if he’s afraid you’ll take it back.

But you don’t. You just brush a kiss against his hand, squeezing his fingers with yours.

And this is so much better than the doses of temporary happiness he used to find to fill the gaps. After feeling empty for so long, this is real, complete wholeness.

════════

“Last book on the syllabus,” you say happily, already seated like usual. “We made it.”

Rafe smirks at you as he shuts the door behind him. It’s been almost a week since the night at the bar, and he’s only falling deeper for you, missing you even more when you’re not around.

“Don’t tell me you’re actually tutoring me today,” he answers.

“What’d you expect?”

He drops his backpack on his seat and stands behind you, leaning over to wrap his arms around you.

“Somethin’ more like this,” he murmurs, his lips against the side of your neck.

You smile, squeezing his forearms as you breathe in the crisp aroma of his cologne, remembering when you’d noticed how good it smelled at the first party you went to together.

“You think you can get away with this?” you say, although you feel weak all over. “Did you read the book?”

He kisses the side of your neck, sending a warm tingle through you.

“Rafe,” you sigh. “We have work to do.”

“Oh, shit,” he chuckles. “Your serious voice. I’m scared.”

“You should be,” you laugh. “How was physio?”

“Fine,” he replies, giving you one last kiss before he heads to his seat. Then, he remembers he doesn’t have to lie to you, that you’re the one person in his life that would never give him shit for telling the truth. “Brutal, actually. How are you?”

“Not ready for finals,” you reply.

“You’re already thinking about finals,” he scoffs as he unpacks his things.

“Of course I am.”

You can’t believe that the exam season is just three weeks away and that in two days, the hockey season will be finished and that before you know it, your freshman year will be over.

Rafe pulls out a paper bag from his backpack and places it in front of you, the logo stamped on it familiar.

“Did you..?” you say with a smile. He must have driven to the cafe you’d once met him at right after class, the one you said had the best treats. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Just take it,” he murmurs.

“Thank you,” you sing-song, putting the bag in your lap, sneakily opening it. “Food’s not allowed in here, but this is worth it.”

“Nobody’s going to care,” he teases. “And the door’s closed.”

“Did you miss the windows?” you reply with a laugh. You take a bite and then reach for your copy of East of Eden that you’d lent him and fan through the pages.

“There’s some beautiful prose in this one, isn’t there?” you say.

“Sure,” he says, staring at you with an enamored glint in his eyes.

“You’re just saying that,” you chuckle.

“When do I just say things?” Rafe challenges.

You shrug in agreement.

“So, the discussion question is about the changes of perspectives between both families and how it…”

You trail off as you notice a circle around a paragraph in blue pen, standing out from the yellow highlight and pencil you’d previously etched throughout the book.

“Did you mark something in my book?” you joke. “Who gave you permission?”

“Permission?” he asks amusedly. “God, why do love rules so much?”

He watches as your eyes skim over the page. He only marked one thing in the book and he’s aware of exactly what you’re reading.

You tilt your head, your smile fading, your heart weightless as you read.

A kind of light spread out from her. And everything changed color. And the world opened out. And a day was good to awaken to. And there were no limits to anything. And I was not afraid any more.

“Why did you circle this?” you ask.

“Why do you think?”

Another smile ghosts over your lips as you look down at the passage again, brows furrowing.

“What?” Rafe says, afraid you’re actually annoyed he marked your book.

“I guess I…” You clear your throat. “I used to read stuff like this and imagined someone thinking it about me, but never thought it would actually…”

You meet his eyes, your voice faded into silence as you exhale. He’s never seen you like this before. Uncertain. Afraid to speak.

You spent so long wanting to be loved just like he has, and while he spiralled into anger, you fell into insecurity, convincing yourself that someone would never care about you the way he does, questioning every sign.

Rafe sits up, reaching forward. You put the book down and take his hand. He gazes at you, feeling so damn fortunate that he walked into this room all those weeks ago, and even more fortunate that you see something in him.

He’ll have to prove to you that he sees something in you, too. He knows there’s work for him to do here. It’s work he wants to do.

“It’s true,” he says, glancing down at the book. “You changed everything for me, you know that?”

You breathe a soft, appreciative laugh, offering a small nod.

“Like your grades?” you joke.

He bites his bottom lip, smirking as he leans closer. You meet him halfway, sharing a soft, slow kiss, your eyelashes overlapping.

“Everything,” he repeats, inches away from your lips. “Thank you.”

You’re dazed, lost, and finally, a little less afraid.

════════

“Get as many as you want,” Rafe says, putting his car in park.

You stare ahead at the shop he just pulled up to, your mouth agape.

This morning, you’d asked him if he had to sit on the bench for the final game of the season this afternoon, or if he could sit in the stands with you. He’d told you he’d rather not watch it at all and that he had something else in mind, refusing to elaborate.

Your eyes travel over the sign hanging above the small bookstore, boasting its collection of old and rare books.

He pulls out his key, then chuckles when he sees that you’re frozen, staring ahead in awe.

“Really?” you say.

“No, I just wanted to show you the front of the store,” he mumbles. “Yeah, really.”

You laugh, excitedly getting out of the car. It’s a surprise, seeing just how much he likes to give you things to show he cares. He might not be great with words all the time, but his actions show you what you need to know.

Rafe follows you as you browse the shelves, picking up books, taking some with you and leaving others behind. He doesn’t understand how this could make you so happy that your smile hasn’t left your face, but he’d do it for hours for you.

He starts to take the books out of your hands, holding them for you as you search, but you don’t let him carry them for long, worried about his injury acting up.

He’s glad this is how he’s spending the afternoon. His coach and his friends on the team were cool with it when he told them he wasn’t going to attend the last game of the season.

It’s too hard to watch from the bench, wishing he could be on the other side of the glass. He’d rather be where he feels best: with you.

At one point, you’re reaching for a book on the top shelf, on the tips of your toes, and the sight warms his heart so much that he takes out his phone and snaps a photo.

“A little help?” you giggle, your voice strained. You look over your shoulder to see him smirking with his phone directed at you.

Rafe pockets his phone and steps forward to face you, his chest brushing against yours as he grips the book you’re trying to reach.

Your gazes stay locked as he hands you the book, looking down at you with a pure smile.

“Can we do this all the time?” you ask.

“You like it?” he says. “Bet there’s lots of places like this between us.”

A look of apprehension flashes across your face. You’re weeks away from the end of the school year, when you’ll both be moving back to your hometowns for the summer, three hours apart from each other.

“Do you mean it?” you ask.

You’re uncertain, needing to hear that he wants to keep this going over the summer, and after, that he’ll keep making an effort to see you.

“Three hours is nothing,” Rafe says.

You beam. You don’t need any more words, entirely comforted.

════════

“You made the right call not coming today,” Isaac says as you and Rafe enter the common room an hour later, the team dispersed across the small space. “That was embarrassing.”

“Shit,” Rafe replies, their hands clapped in greeting. “Was it that bad, man?”

“Never got my ass handed to me like that before,” Isaac says, a few of the other hockey players nodding in agreement. “Meanwhile, you’re on some cute little date.”

You share a smile. It’s clear he’s seen the photo of you that Rafe posted.

“It was cute,” you laugh. “Sorry about the loss.”

“Crappy way to end our season,” Isaac tells you. “But there’s always next year. Rafe’ll be back throwing punches.”

Rafe catches your frown.

“Thanks for the help with my essay, by the way,” Isaac tells you. “Got an A.”

“Great,” you say sweetly. “No problem.”

“You think Lyla’s coming?” Isaac asks. You nod, having texted with your best friend on your way here.

“She is,” you say.

Isaac grins when he looks up at the door. You turn to see Lyla come in. He steps away, eager to greet her.

You smile to yourself. After everything you’ve heard from Lyla, you’re pretty sure they’re only a few days away from becoming official.

“What was that look?” Rafe asks quietly.

“What?”

“When he said something about throwing punches, you looked mad.”

You adore it about him, how much he picks up on, but at the same time, it hurts to remember that the reason he knows how to do it is a result of his lonely childhood.

“I’m protective of you,” you say. “I know you’re healing well, but I don’t like the thought of you getting hurt. Is that so crazy?”

Rafe smirks, stepping forward, putting his hands on your hips, gazing at you with half-lidded eyes and a wide grin.

“What?” you whine with a soft laugh.

“It’s cute that you’re worrying about me, baby,” he answers, revelling in the feeling of touching you in public because he wants to, not because he’s supposed to be making someone jealous.

“You think I’m cute?”

His grip tightens, holding you like he always does, like you’re too good to be real, like someone might take you away.

“All the time,” Rafe murmurs, earning a gentle nudge from you. “Gonna miss you when you get too busy for me during finals.”

“You know I’m going to want to read all those books you got me, right?” you say. “I need you to keep me in line and study with me. Make sure I’m not getting distracted.”

“I thought you said I distract you.”

You chuckle, still in awe of how affectionate he is, of how much he loves to touch and kiss you whenever you’re close. He absolutely does distract you, and you love it.

“I mean, yeah, but everyone needs study breaks,” you say with a shrug. “And I don’t like it when you’re not around.”

“Yeah,” he says. “Me, neither.”

Rafe takes a second to just stare at you. It’s impossible to get enough of you. He never really looked forward to life in general, but since you made him yours, he looks forward to everything.

You press your cheek against his chest in a hug, listening to his heartbeat. And you love the feeling of knowing, with absolute certainty, that part of it beats for you.

(the end)

epilogue >

au masterlist

author’s note this was such a fun series to write!! thank you to everyone who supported the story. the epilogue is pure fluff and smut, so for the readers who don’t like spice, def skip it!! ily all!!

[popcornpoppypop]

They'll Do It Because They Have To

Summary: Jack Abbot x Single mom!reader; The continuation of Like You. You and Jack reckon with Matt as he starts recovery.

Warnings: Slight violence towards women (no physical altercation), shouting, blood, broken glass

A/N: I heard the calls for more of this story and I was trying to figure out how I wanted to handle it. It took me a minute to figure it out. Just remember you all asked for it! I was sad when I wrote it so my characters must also be sad *insert evil villain laugh here*. Anyway, there will more to this. If anyone has any suggestions for a series title let me know! As always, I edited this half asleep.

The fluorescent lights made Matt’s eyes burn. He hated the sterile smell of the hospital. He had been stuck in a bed for a week and it was starting to drive him mad.

“You remember my friend Dana?” Jack asked as he wrote in a notebook. “She works day shift with Robby. She’s going to come help when your mom and I are working late.” He heard the bitter guffaw from the bed and looked up to see Matt shaking his head.

“I’m seventeen. I used to be able to do whatever I wanted by myself.” Matt could feel the anger rising like bile in his throat.

“Well, not ‘whatever’ but yeah, it’s going to feel weird for a while.” Jack said, closing the notebook and leaning back in his chair.

“I don’t need a babysitter.” Matt snapped, grabbing his iPad from the bedside table.

“Not a babysitter. She’s just there to help if you need it. Until we get the prosthetic fit you’ll be on crutches, it’s not easy getting around on those fuckers.” Jack sighed, remembering when it was all he had. It was annoying having to hobble around, not to mention the arm rests dug into his armpits and left sores because he was too damn stubborn to get them properly fitted.

“How are my boys?” You came in smiling and holding a tray of smoothies.

“Just peachy.” Matt’s voice dripped with sarcasm. He’d entered the angry phase earlier than you or Jack expected. You were choosing to ignore the sarcasm.

“Got your favorite. Walsh said we’ll be able to go home tomorrow! It’ll be good for you to get some rest in your own bed.” You said, handing him his smoothie and running your fingers through his hair.

“Which we moved downstairs for the time being.” Jack cleared his throat.

“So I get no privacy now, too. Fucking great!”

“It’s temporary, just to make things easier for you.” You said as you took his hand.

“Nothing is going to be easy anymore!” Matt yanked his hand from you.

“I know. That’s why we are doing what we can.” Jack said, crossing his arms.

“Now I’m going to be an invalid in the living room like an old person and I have to have a babysitter when you two aren’t there. Dana isn’t even that hot!”

“Watch it.” You warned.

“I’m sure she’ll be happy to hear she is somewhat hot.” Jack snorted. You shot him a look that told him he wasn’t helping.

“Matty, it’s our job to take care of you. You can hate it all you want, but I’m not leaving you to your own devices.” You looked over at Jack, unsure how to really deal with this.

“You’re about to go through Hell, Matt. If anyone is qualified to tell you how bad it is, it’s me.” Jack leaned forward.

“I just…I want to be normal.” Matt shook his head, wiping hard at his glassy eyes.

“I know, Kid. I know. Normal is just going to look different from now on.” Jack put his hand on Matt’s thigh.

“Everybody is going to stare at me now. I’m a freak.” Matt sobbed.

“No, Honey. You’re not a freak. You’re so brave.” You said sitting on the edge of the bed and holding his face in your hands.

“I am, I can’t even get the fake foot for months! I’m going to have a fucking stump just out, fucking disgusting!” He cried. You looked over to Jack who had his head bowed. He had the same thoughts when his happened, still did on occasion.

“Matt, I know that you’re angry-”

“Angry!? Mom, you will never understand this! It’s not anger! My life is completely different!” He shouted, pushing you off the bed. You land on your feet but are shocked by the forceful gesture.

“Hey! Matt, you can feel all the feelings and we’ll understand as best we can. But do not disrespect anyone, especially your mother.” Jack growled.

“It’s okay. Look, you’re my baby and will always be. I’m going to do what’s best for you.” You tried your best to keep the tears at bay.

“Oh just fuck off Mom! If you had taken care of me, told me not to go I wouldn’t be here!” He threw his smoothie at your feet. You jumped, the tears falling as you turned to grab something to clean it up.

“That is enough! You will not get physical with anyone! I won’t stand for that shit!” Jack barked, looming over Matt. Jack rarely got actually angry with Matt. In fact, neither you nor Matt had seen him more than snap. He made sure to keep control of his emotions; his father never did.

“You’re not my father!” Matt screamed. Jack stood still as stone, the words hitting him hard but not showing it. Not to Matt.

“That’s fine. Whatever I am, I’m going to make sure you get through this shit! You don’t have a fucking choice.” Jack growled as he went over to get you to stop cleaning the damn smoothie.

“I don’t fucking want help! I hate you both!” Matt’s voice was going raw as he shouted.

“Come on. Let’s go. Just give him space.” Jack held you up and started walking you out of the room, an arm wrapped around your waist.

“Everything okay, Dr. Abbot?” A nurse stopped outside the room.

“Yes. He threw his food on the floor, if someone can get that cleaned we’d appreciate it.” He said, holding you tight to his side as he felt the vibrations of your sobs.

“Of course. No problem.” She smiled.

“Be careful. He’s not himself today.” Jack sighed.

“It’s okay. We’re used to it. Never easy to go through limb loss, for anyone.” She gave a sympathetic nod and left.

“I’m taking you home. You need to rest too.” Jack said brushing the hair from your face. The tears left red trails down your cheeks, your eyes were sunken and dark. You couldn’t remember when you actually slept last. You’d taken to sleeping one of the family chairs that reclined, never wanting to be far from Matt.

“Maybe some time alone is what he needs tonight.” You shook your head. You were at a loss, you never thought this would happen. How were you supposed to help him if you didn’t even know where to start?

“I think it’s what you need.” Jack kissed your head as he tucked you into his side and went to the elevator.

“I need to talk to Dana before we go.” You wiped at your face, trying to look normal before people saw you.

“Hmm, yeah. Warn her.” Jack nodded. The doors opened and the chaos of the ER greeted you. It was jarring how much noise there was compared to the other floors.

“Hey, you two.” Dana smiled as you and Jack walked up to the counter.

“You two look like you haven’t slept in a week.” Robby said, almost a joke but laced with genuine concern.

“Feels like it too.” You murmured.

“How’s Matt doing?” Robby took his glasses off.

“Medically, good. Healing well. No infection.” Jack cleared his throat. The ED was used to Jack's stoic nature. They had never seen him emote outside of losing a patient; even then, he kept it mostly to himself—until Pittfest, when Jack saw Matt covered in blood. It had shaken the whole department.

Jack was put on family leave for the next two weeks. He told them it wasn’t necessary, but Robby insisted. He needed to take care of his family. He still would wander down to the ER when his mind couldn’t take it anymore. When he did, there was something broken to him in a way no one had seen before. Newbies would tiptoe around him, but after a while, they learned he wasn’t to be feared but respected. He wouldn’t bite people's heads off for no reason, he wasn’t that angry. He was just blunt and had little patience for sugar coating things. He was a monument of a man, strong but never cruel. Now, he looked like he would crumble if you looked at him wrong. His whole world was collapsing and he couldn’t figure out how to fix it.

“He’s…he’s getting angry again and I don’t blame him. It’s just…hard to watch.” You shook your head, trying to keep the tears at bay. You were so fucking tired of crying. You were just so fucking tired.

“Honey, it’s part of the process.” Dana reached over to hold your hand.

“Psych is supposed to talk with him, have they been by yet?” Robby asked.

“You’re joking right?” Jack snorted. “No. We’ve got him set up with someone in private practice.”

“I wanted to just let you know that you don’t have to stay with him, he’s not easy to be around right now.” You rubbed your face, the pressure on your eyes giving some relief.

“Honey, if I was only around people that were easy to get along with, I wouldn’t be a nurse.” She smiled. “I can handle an angry teenager, I got two at home.” She gave your hand a pat.

“He’s really good at insults these days, just be aware.” You sighed.

“Yeah?” She cocked an eyebrow.

“He said you ‘weren’t even that hot.’” Jack snorted.

“So I’m a little hot is what I’m hearing.” She laughed.

“that’s what I said!” Jack laughed. “But, he’ll put you through hell. Trust me, he’s already tried with me.”

“He’s family too. We take care of family here, no matter how much of a pain in the ass. Right, Robby?” Dana winked.

“I resent the insinuation that I’m anything other than a joy to be around.” Robby crossed his arms.

“You two go home and get some rest. I’ll check in with him when I can. He’s well looked after, promise.” Dana said, wrapping and arm around you. “Eat something, you’re wasting away.” She said.

“Thank you.” You hugged her as Jack lead you both out of the hospital.

The drive home was silent. You turned away from Jack, not wanting anyone privy to your tears. Jack wanted to hold you, make sure you knew you were doing everything right, but didn’t want to push you. The car pulled into the driveway, he took the key out and you both sat in the silence.

“We’ll figure this out.” Jack finally broke the silence. You nodded, unable to rely on your voice. You couldn’t stand the tension any longer and scrambled out of the car. Your chest hurt, like a vice gripped it. Your hands shook as you opened the door.

“Love.” Jack called after you as you ran into the house. You threw your bag down and went to the kitchen. Your hands wouldn’t stop shaking, why won’t they stop!? Your eyes were clouded with tears as you fumbled to get a glass, sending them falling to the ground in a flurry of glass shards. Your knees were trying to give out as you sobbed.

“Y/N! Baby, stop!” Jack ran into the kitchen, grabbing hold of you before you could fall into the glass.

“How can he forgive me if I can’t forgive myself!?” You sobbed, collapsing into Jack’s arms. His heart broke as he held you close.

“Love, none of this is your fault. It’s no one’s. This was…a tragedy. Senseless. You didn’t cause this. If you had told him no, he would have snuck out. He’s alive. Nothing else matters.” Jack whispered into your ear, just loud enough to reach you over your sobs.

“I can’t lose him, Jack. I can’t.” Your voice raw.

“You won’t. Trust me. We’ll get him back.” Jack kissed your hair. “Come on. Let’s get you to bed.” He said, guiding you up the stairs. “I’ll clean up the glass.”

Jack made sure you were comfortable, your eyes falling closed the second your head hit the pillow, before cleaning the glass. He swept it up, the glass glistening in the yellow light. He dumped it into the trash, small piece cutting his thumb. The blood trailed down his palm. He watched the red lines absorb into his skin. Was pain the only thing consistent in his life? Is that all he had to give?

He washed his hand in the sink, the bleeding finally stopped but the thoughts kept swirling. How was he going to get this kid through this? He barely made it. How was he going to bear seeing this boy in so much pain every day?

You felt the bed dip as Jack finally joined you. His arms wrapped around your body as he pulled you close. You learned quickly the different ways Jack would communicate his emotions without words. He was getting better at using his words, but he always preferred non-verbal communication. Tonight, he was holding you like you were the only thing keeping him alive.

The morning sun felt harsher than usual as you opened your eyes. Something angry in it, the weight of having to bring Matt home wrapped in it. You rolled over, wanting to ignore it a while longer and bury yourself in Jack, but he wasn’t there. You groaned as you lay flat on your back. He tried to never let you wake up alone if he wasn’t on shift. You knew he was just as anxious.

Eventually you got up, putting your robe on as you padded down to the kitchen. Jack was in the kitchen making eggs. He stood in his boxers and nothing else, the morning light illuminating his muscles. You stood in the doorway, reveling in the peaceful moment.

“Staring is rude, ya know?” He muttered without looking back. You gave a soft chuckle as you walked up behind him, your arms wrapping around his chest.

“Wasn’t starring. It’s called appreciating the art.” You kissed the side of his neck.

“I don’t think most people’s breath stutters when they look at paintings.” He scoffed. Your kisses trailed up to his ear, nibbling at his lobe. “If you keep going like that, breakfast is going to burn.” He sighed, leaning into your touch.

“I just want this moment to last a while longer.” You kissed his shoulder.

“You want to abandon the eggs?” he chuckled.

“Yes, but we should get ready soon. So, make your eggs.” You sighed as you moved to sit at the table.

“Your eggs.” He corrected as he plated them and put them in front of you.

“You’re too good for me.” You smiled as he sat next to you.

“No.” His voice was short, unnerved. “Not too good for you. Never.” He shook his head, avoiding eye contact. “Jack.” You grabbed his hand.

“I’m fine. I just…I know you deserve better. I want to be that for you but I don’t know how.” He closed his eyes with a grimace as if the thought caused him physical pain.

“I know that what I say isn’t going to stick. Not right now. But I promise you, you’re all I need and want.” You kissed his temple.

“Eat. It’s going to be a tough day.” He kissed your temple as he went upstairs.

The nervous energy as you pulled up to the hospital could be felt two blocks away. Jack held your hand as you walked into the hospital, opting for the front entrance rather than the ED.

“Good morning Y/N, Dr. Abbot.” One of the nurses smiled as you exited the elevator.

“Morning. How was he last night?” You clear your throat.

“He did okay. Didn’t want to talk to anyone. Nothing of note really. Dr. Walsh sent her discharge instructions if you need us to go over them with you.”

“Just print them out for us. I’ll handle it, thank you.” Jack nodded, wrapping an arm around your shoulder as you walked to Matt’s room.

“Good morning, Matty! They said your ready to head out!” You plastered a smile on your face, trying to convince everyone you were excited.

“Yeah, great.” He shrugged.

“We can stop at the diner and get breakfast if you want.” Jack offered. “The food from the cafeteria is never good.”

“I don’t want to be out in public.” He wouldn’t look at either of you.

“Okay, we’ll pick up some donuts on the way back if you want.” You offered, moving to tuck a hair behind his ear but he ducked away.

“Not hungry. Just want to go home.” His voice was flat, emotionless. It made your chest tighten.

“That’s okay. We have your meds at home, got some Zofran if you need it.” Jack said.

“Alright, Abbot clan! Lets get you out of here!” The nurse came in handing Jack a stack of papers.

“I’m not an Abbot.” Matt snapped.

“Matt. Please.” You sighed.

“Sorry. I’m going to take that IV out and you will be all set. We practiced with the crutches a little this morning but you’ll go down in the chair. It’s policy.” The nurse did her best to ignore the tension. The nurse made quick work of the IV and wheeled in a chair.

“Do you want me to help you or the nurse?” Jack asked, his hand outstretched and going from open to a clenched fist over and over.

“I’ll do it, Dr. Abbot. Policy anyway.” She smiled, giving Jack an out. You mouthed a thank you to her.

“Thank you.” Matt grumbled as she helped get him settled into the chair.

“You take care of yourself, Matt. Remember to do your stretches and take your meds. I know Daisy in PT and she’ll keep me updated if you start slacking.”  The nurse gave Matt’s shoulder a squeeze.

“Yeah, sure.” Matt nodded.

“Okay, let’s go home.” You sighed.

“I want to go to the ER. I want to see Robby.” Matt said, suddenly filled with nervous energy.

“Okay, yeah. Is everything okay?” Jack asked.

“I just…I need to see him.” Matt’s voice firm and insistent.

“Sure, baby.” You said, looking over to Jack who just shrugged. Jack took the lead wheeling Matt. The elevator ride was as uncomfortable as a breakup know you live together.

“Look who it is!” Dana beamed as she saw you three coming.

“Is Robby around?” Jack asked.

“Yeah, he’s around here somewhere.” She gave a confused smile as she paged him. “How you doing, Kid?” She patted Matt on the shoulder.

“Good. Just tired.” He smiled.

“Yeah, you can never get good sleep in a hospital. A Couple nights in your bed will get you feeling like a million bucks.” She said.

“Matt! Look at you, Bud!” Robby came over, a smile on his face.

“Robby! I wanted to talk to you, if you have a minute.” Matt beamed up at him. You saw Jack’s grip on the handles of the chair tighten, you put a hand on his arm.

“Yeah, I got a minute for you.” Robby nodded, giving you and Jack a confused look.

“Can we have a minute alone? I know I don’t get privacy anymore but I’m sure you’re okay with me being alone with a doctor.” Matt spit.

“Yeah. Yeah, of course Baby.” You said wrapping an arm around Jack and guiding him away. Robby looked confused as you walked away.

“You weren’t lying about that anger.” Dana shook her head.

“I was hoping it would simmer down overnight. How dumb is that?” You gave an exasperated chuckle.

“Oh, Hun. Not dumb.” Dana gave your arm a pat. “You’ll get through this. Boys always come back to their moms.”

You watched as Robby spoke with Matt. He was smiling. Thanking him for something, saving him probably. Robby wheeled him toward you.

“Call if you need anything. You have my number.” Robby said, patting Matt’s shoulder.

“Thank You, Robby. At least you didn’t freeze.” Matt threw a glance over at Jack as he started wheeling himself toward the exit. All four adults stopped, too stunned to speak. You looked over at Jack, his face pale and broken.

“Jack-” Robby started but Jack just shook his head.

“He’s not wrong.” Jack’s voice was tight, almost angry but too sad to be fully so. “He’s good at finding the weak spots.” Jack nodded as he turned to follow Matt.

“Jesus Christ, I don’t how to deal with any of this.” You shook your head.

“No one would.” Dana sighed. “Call me if you two need a break.” You nodded and left before the tears started.

“I don’t know how they’ll do it.” Robby sighed.

“They’ll do it because they have to.” Dana shook her head as she went back to work.

[littledes1re]

How to disappear | Chapter: one

Summary: after the passing of your mom, you and your dads best friend get close. You find comfort in him and he does the same because he also once lost something. While a relationship between you two sounds wrong and taboo, your feelings grow stronger. But Joel is an old man, guilt and the fear of losing you too, overwhelms him. So he leaves you.

Warnings: Angst, grief, heartbreak, lots of emotions, (fluff as a flashback), joels alcohol problems, dad that doesn’t care for his daughter, age gap! (23 and 61), crying, kind of depression, smut (as a flashback)

A/N: Okey Okey, I may said next week but I was already done with it so finally it’s here. Some dbf and Oldman!joel angst hehehe. Ngl I kinda hurt myself with this one.

Dear joel,

i‘m still thinking about the first time you kissed me, gentle, careful, caring.

I wish you‘d see how much I love you, how much I love being in your presence, how much I love our midnight talks.

We are both broken, something connected us. You made it a reason to leave me, I made it a reason to call you my soulmate.

I feel heartbreak. I cry myself to sleep, tell me..is that better than us comforting each other and having fun?

I miss our conversations, I miss your smile and your ability to comfort me.

Dad is asking why you are distancing yourself.

I love you, always.

Winter felt like forever.

A never ending cycle of dark and cold days, where the world stays still when snow falls. Lingering loneliness creeping up, as you fall for the hopelessness of it all and allowed the weather to dictate your mood while in the back of your mind the soft touches and whispers swam around of someone you where aching to be revolved around with once again.

Joel Miller.

Your last conversation stuck in your mind like the withering words only an enemy can say to you. Repeating itself over and over till there is only a echo of two words. We can‘t.

But there was no flicker of rejection in his eyes as he touched you, no regret as he cuddled you after his release, no shimmer of a different personality you weren‘t aware of, you knew him long enough. At least you thought so.

The aching in your heart and tummy was one that didn‘t go away no matter how much time had passed. The sadness clinged on you, wrapping tightly around your ribs, making it hard to breathe. It was one that grew each day for the past season, now coming to the point that you feel yourself getting sick from it. Flashes of memories startle you while you want to go on with your day. The glimpse of his brown eyes, landing on your face, soft and gentle the way you always knew him. Faints laughs of you two whenever it’s quiet.

And somehow underneath all of this it remembered you of your mom. The day she passed, the darkness that fell on you, the ability to not think straight as your eyes were hurting from crying. The shock not letting up, moving like a ghost trough life, pretending to function. Time would heal, but it didn’t. Time just showed you how to carry the pain without showing it.

You wanted to be small again, cradled by your mother’s hands, soothed by her voice.

“It feels like time has stopped for you and the people around you don’t care. You somehow have to function, but the person was your sole reason to function.” His eyes were emotionless.

Joel stopped crying after five months. He became a vessel of a man who once showed his kindness through actions and words and now someone who shuts everyone off. Grief is not predictable. It changes, buries itself deep beneath the skin and eats you alive. Joel never asked for comfort. But he gave it to you. He thought he didn’t deserve warmth, he thought he didn’t want to feel joy. But he let you feel all of those things.

The rough patch of his beard tickled your skin as you laid on top of him, nuzzling your face into his neck. The tears were dry on your cheeks, your eyes swollen and red as a headache started to form. His big hands rubbing circles on your back, soothing you to sleep.

“She is watching over you.”

The line that was crossed was blurred. The day you caught feelings was unknown. You just knew that there had been this silent connection between you two right after he decided to knock on your door to check on you.

“How y’doing, kiddo?”

Maybe it was the fact that you didn’t except it from him. Maybe it was the fact that your dad was distant after your mom’s passing. Maybe it was the fact that both of you lost something.

A man you should suddenly avoid because of his alcohol problems; your dad’s sayings. After his daughter’s passing he developed an alcohol problem, something that was clear whenever he was in your house, his eyes hazy, movements too unsteady. Your heart ached for him, never understanding how people do that to themselves. But after your mom, you did. His actions spoke louder than his words. He still helped your father around the house, with his job, with other things. He was there ,only his emotions were completely submerged, a veil placed over them so no one could recognize his true feelings.

That night, changed it all. He calmed your nerves, gave you the comfort you’ve been aching for the past eight months, and after that he finally let you in his heart. Told you what he was feeling. Guilt, anxiety and anger. His lips were quivering, eyes dark and swollen. Jaw clenched, as if he was trying to bite back the sob clawing up his throat. His breath shaky.

“I should’ve been there.” The only thing that he would murmur and then silence. A rather comfortable and understanding one. You don’t say anything, you just watch. Seeing the same emotions going through him as the day you lost your mom. His eyes would finally lift, and they would shine but not with kindness but with anger and sorrow. You could see it.

“An-and I feel selfish. For now coming in here and telling you this while you also lost someone.”

“Hey, hey. No.” Your hand gently lands on his shoulder, slowly moving to his hair caressing through his curls, while looking at him. His eyes softened, suddenly filling full of worry, bottom lip pouting. Looking at you like a kicked puppy. You felt tears leaving your eyes, landing on your thighs, you wanted to hug him. You knew how he was feeling. You also wanted to give him comfort.

“Don’t even think like that. You’re not selfish for speaking it out. You’re human, joel.”

He tilts his head slightly, you doing the same. A flicker of something knowing passing through your gaze.

“And if you really think thats selfish, then i’m selfish too. For wanting to hear it. You should’t carry it alone.”

For the first time, joel let’s go of the breath he has been holding for a long time. It doesn’t fix anything— but in this quiet moment, something shifts.

A piece of his sorrow, no longer carried alone.

He came over more often. Opened your door, sneaked in your bed and cuddled you, whenever your father was at home, you went to his place. He didn’t care anyway. You two had small road trips, where he drove you to his favourite places, music in the background, your head out of the window, enjoying it. It felt safe, it felt right.

Every worry in your head disappearing when he put your head on his chest. Soft humming and fingertips caressing the skin. Your conversations were not only about loss. They were flowing easily, they were funny.

“This thing is gonna give me a heart attack one day, I swear.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket, trying to find the right buttons to put it on silent.

“Ain’t working like that, wait—you have a nokia? Where the hell is your phone?” You asked widened eyes, after you snatched his supposed phone out of his hands.

He snatched it back, eyebrows furrowing.

“What about it? Tommy bought me one because they are easy to use.”

“No, no. S’nice.” You tried to suppress a giggle. And as you swallowed you looked around his house, he looked at you with a grumpy expression.

“What? I can’t keep up with your new generation shit.”

“Oh I bet, I bet. I just find it funny.” You finally giggled, laying back down on his couch, holding your tummy.

“Y’know what’s real funny? You don’t even know half of these movies that I showed you.”

You gasped, sitting up again. His face all smug, a smirk on his lips.

“What? They are cult classics c’mon now—“

“Yeah, for old people.” You rolled your eyes playfully, seeing his face all serious now.

Giggling, you stood up as he abruptly did so too, stretched out his arms to reach for you.

And you knew what that meant. You laughed just more, running around his coffee table and he followed you, trying to grab you. And suddenly he did, throwing you gently on the couch and began tickling you.

“J-joel” you couldn’t breathe from the laughter.

You thought your dad would comfort you and be there for you after what happened, you didn’t think it was going to be joel. But your dad locked himself up, ignoring his dad duties. Leaving you alone, not showing his emotions, not letting you show yours. His demeanour was cold, distant it felt like living with a stranger. You understood why. You understood that he also lost someone, but he never once asked how you are, never once opened the topic of Mom again. Deleted it from his life like it never existed. And while doing that he also deleted you slowly.

Your friends stopped texting, one didn’t know how to comfort you. The other one was acting like it wasn’t a big deal. So you also deleted that topic from them, from your father. Joel was the only one who heard you talking about your mom.

And then he left you. So now, you were completely alone.

But maybe you didn’t really love him. Maybe you just loved his comforting. Maybe you just needed someone and he was there. Would you love a man forty years older than you if your father acted like a father? The way he looked at you, worshipped you, made you feel good. Made you feel special. Took care of you. Something connected you two. Wasn’t those signs of love?

“Hurting?”

“No, think i’m good.” You whispered to him. The stretch was unusual, nothing that you haven’t had before but it felt different. It was with joel.

“S’good, real good.” He nodded his head to you. Under the covers, vulnerable, you two were naked. There were goosebumps all over your skin, and his too. Joel lets you adjust on his shaft, worried eyes scanning your face to see if you show any sign of discomfort.

The atmosphere in the room was calm, lights dimmed and if felt comfortable. The first time you really made out with him and laid your hands on his bulge he stopped you. “Wanna do it right.” He took his time, kissing every inch of your body, teasing you, loving on you. Calling you his pretty girl. Making your eyes almost tear up of how much love he was giving you.

He was extra careful as he started to thrust into you, little breaths leaving his mouth, your hands gripping his biceps. A little moan leaving your lips, feeling the pleasure in your belly slowly fill.

His gaze never left you, he noticed it all. The smile you give him, cheeks flushed, trying to breath right and suppress a loud moan. The way he handled you with gentle hands cupping your cheek, kissing your forehead.

“Joel—please.” A coo leaving his mouth, speeding his thrusts into you.

Joel would bite back a groan, his thrusts sometimes sloppy, sometimes losing the rhythm because it’s been so long. But you didn’t care. You loved feeling him all, you loved being with him.

And when he came his face would twist, you would gently touch his face. He would bury himself into you on last time and then hide into your neck, leaving wet kisses while catching his breath. While you didn’t come, you were still content and satisfied to have him on top of you. But of course he realised it and ate you out for one hour, taking his time, giving you the best orgasms of your life.

You never got an answer from the letter. You never got an answer on your countless texts and calls. He cut you out. And you were trying your best to be angry, you really were. But deep down, the sense of understanding was spreading. You knew how much trouble you two would be going through if your father or anyone in your family found out. Anyone in his family too.

The age gap would let everyone turn their heads in the streets.

Your friends, colleagues everyone would think he is a weirdo. That you are a weirdo.

But then you ask yourself why?

Why did he let you develop these feeling for him? Why did he give you a reason to think that he was in love with you? Why did he comfort you? why did he give you this feeling that everything is going to be fine? Why did he make you believe that there was a connection between you two?

A knock pulled you out of your thoughts.

“Can you help me set the table? Joel is also coming—oh and his girlfriend too, apparently.”

AAA this took so long, but i’m actually proud of this. Please if you see mistakes or want to give feedback, feel free to do so.

Thank you so so much for 900 followers, it’s truly unbelievable.🥹🥹

My Masterlist!!!

Taglist:

@vickie5446 @a-goose-on-mars @thatgirlmendo @ihearttdilfs @pickyeater13 @sweetiegirl16 @keseqna @shivispunk @kyloispunk @meetmeatyourworst @joelmillerswife9 @iveseenstrangerthings50 @idrkman @vanishintoyoubby @dlwrish @cuntyhunty22 @glitterspark @tikikiki @millerdilfs @lovelystrawberrysblog @millersdoll @mani-pedro @simp4pedro @angelic1angel @hazzzy418 @valitagun @throttlepascal @speaktothehandpeasants @mystickittytaco @whatwouldsookiedo @sage-babydoll @umadirectioner @neobangverse @stvrl1ghtt123 @midnightmischief10 @ccmoonshine @dendulinka6

[solarbiomechanist]

Continuing to build on this proposition about the worldview of mainstream media, and using terms that are centric to that worldview throughout, I am not trying to misgender any person here;

the man characters are relatable, so men can easily walk in their shoes, and women can easily imagine walking beside them. Women aren't supposed to want to *be* the male characters, they're supposed to want to support them as wives or sisters or mothers would do. The internality of the woman characters in media like this isn't explored because 1. Women are considered to have moods in the same way as the ocean does, rapidly changing and possibly dangerous but not something a man could influence. "Why does she want to do this" is generally answered by either "because he wants to do it and she is a loyal 'good' woman", or by "because she is a woman and the things that happen in their brain don't make sense sometimes" for the times where the writer or writers want to have her argue about something.

It's why there's that trope about "could you replace her with that lamp shaped like a leg and have the plot remain mostly intact" is a thing, she isn't supposed to have motivations of her own in a plot like this, she's there to help him, or to be fought over, or to be protected, or she's there to protect the children, but she's not supposed to be there for herself.

Even when she's written as a rude, mean, nasty person, she's not allowed to be mean for her own reasons, there's usually something related to how her womanhood is "faulty or damaged", or an interaction with a man in the past that "made her this way", or she is his overprotective or overly controlling mother. If a woman is acting as an obstacle to the hero of the story, it's because she is being a woman incorrectly, not because he needs to change.

---

CW for references to forced detransition in this paragraph;

Where in this story is there space for a woman to want anything, let alone to *want* to be masculine, without being punished for it? I neither am capable of being nor do I want to be a "correct" man, but from my first actions I have been seen as "squandering" my womanhood by not being a woman correctly. Every instance of masculinity was seen as incorrect performance of femininity by society at large, and more personally seen as me being ungrateful for the gifts I was given, because the stories we tell about women say exactly that; if she doesn't love being a woman, it's because no-one has shown her that she should, yet. The right man could fix her. If she can't be a loving wife and eventual mother, she's broken, and that's sad.

CW for references to forced detransition ended.

---

All trans people fall out of the net of society by being incorrect, so do intersex people, many cis perisex people do as well. All people are caged within the laws of gender and more broadly of conformity, of being who society says you shoud be, even the people who love the cage. Even the people who build the cage. The roles we are pressed into are different, so the ways we are hurt look different. We don't gain anything by arguing over which part of the cage is worse, and I'm SICK AND TIRED of being told I'm not caged at all because other people see my shackles as decoration, so I would much rather work together to dismantle the cage for everyone.

now, i did not get my ass dragged to easter dinner in the frilliest little can’t-go-play-outside-for-the-egg-hunt fuckin dress every single year of my childhood just to put up with you sayin all this bullshit

[verekatt]

Inspired by @greenglowinspooks post

I love the Danny Phantom fandom's medical gore, but why not torture our DC blorbos too?

Lots of fics make Jason an underdeveloped halfa. Lots of fics make Danny basically unkillable because he's a halfa.

I'm going Maximum Angst Route on this one.

The Justice League buys the GIW's rhetoric. They hear about these dangerous energy imprints, these volatile mimicries of life that are hurting people. The GIW claim they've controlled it in the rest of America, but this one small town has a strong one that protects the rest and helps them attack. They ask for help stopping this one, assure them that once Phantom is neutralised, it'll be easy to deal with the rest. The JL agrees. The JL captures Phantom and hands him over to the GIW.

It takes months to capture most of the other ghosts, as they slowly trickle through the portal to find each other. The JL gains an appreciation for the GIW, having previously fought off entities like Skulker and Plasmius without hero help. They trust the GIW, and so when they ask to scan the heroes for any lingering radiation, they agree.

They're alarmed to find many heroes are mildly irradiated. The GIW removes the lingering ectoplasm from most of them, and they're drained afterwards, but they recover. Damian, who had much higher levels than most, seems almost sedated from his usual fury and violence. Cass privately notes that she can't read people as well anymore, and Damian's lethargy looks uncomfortable for him. She gets suspicious, but when no one listens to her concerns, she leaves for Hong Kong again. She's scared that if her levels get higher and they drain her again, she'll lose the ability to read people entirely. She doesn't want to lose such a fundamental part of how she interacts with the world.

When scanning, however, Batman gets pulled aside. They explain they've found a parasitic ghost in Red Hood, and removing it will be a much longer process. They show the ectoplasm levels, the scans with a visible core. Bruce connects this to the Pit Rage, and agrees to let them take Hood, hoping he will finally get his son back. Jason is cautious, but eventually agrees. This could be the cure he never thought he'd get.

The GIW is estatic. They've discovered a new halfa, and if they do this right, they'll be able to study halfa development. They have Phantom to tear apart to see what an actualised halfa looks like, but watching Hood grow and form? Trying to influence his development, maybe even weaponise him? This is an opportunity they have to make the most of. All they have to do is claim the parasite killed Hood before they could remove it, and they can keep him forever.

The second Jason is alone with the GIW, they sedate him. He wakes up in a cage too small to stand in, right next to the very Phantom he helped capture. The kid is asleep, curled on the floor, bleeding through loose stitches on an autopsy wound. He immediately realises they fucked up, and his rage/guilt/panic attack wakes Phantom up. He expected the kid to be angry, upset, even gleeful that Jason was caught too. He didn't expect the kid to look at him with sad pity, to calm him down and say he's sorry that Jason was mislead and betrayed like this. That yeah, shit's gonna suck now, but Danny (as he insisted) would be there for him for as long as their cages were kept together. That unlike Danny these past few months, Jason wouldn't be dealing with it alone.

The scientists slowly feed Jason ectoplasm, and cut him open daily to monitor how it affects him. Ironically, his Pit Rage is cured, but that doesn't make it any better. If anything, it's worse, because now he's fully cognizant and has no extra energy to fight with. He still does fight at first, even without the Pit, but he knows no one's coming to his rescue. Eventually, he joins Danny in his nihilistic snark and dead-eyed stare. And yeah, they joked about that pun.

Time becomes meaningless. They do whatever they can to escape the hopelessness. Horrifyingly morbid jokes, empty bets on what form of torture they'll endure next, whispered stories about the people they miss. They reach through electrified bars just to feel a hand that doesn't mean harm. They spill their guts, metaphorically and literally, exchanging their deepest fears and secrets until they know each other entirely. Their necessary codependency becomes actual love, because how can you go through this together and know each other so deeply and not love each other? Platonically or romantically or the secret third option that's just insanely codependent affection.

Not sure who ends up rescuing them, but I'm thinking either a) Tim gets suspicious, b) the Outlaws go hunting, or c) Cass realises they have Jason and immediately freaks out. Whoever, they meet up with Team Phantom. Tucker and Sam been on the run since Danny was caught, and Jazz could be in Arkham? Or dead, or on the run too. Team Phantom was only held back by their lack of muscle (that's usually Danny), and now that they have trained fighters on their side, they're able to break in and get their boys. Cue long healing journey and revenge time.

[clockwayswrites]

The Haunting of Danny Fenton Chapter 4, Part 1

masterpost am still sick. no editing or concrit please. *sad coughing*

Wally had already known that Danny was smart, but watching Danny work with Barry, Victor, and the others put Danny’s intelligence in a whole other category. Danny was science smart.

The swift progress from everyone working together making a way to communicate with Wally using readings from Danny was encouraging. What wasn’t encouraging is how Danny seemed to fade a little more every day.

“—take a break, Danny,” Dick said. He’d taken his role of mother hen seriously, as he always did.

“Yeah, one sec,” Danny mumbled around the screwdriver in his mouth. “Just let me finish these wires. We’re almost ready for another test.”

Dick hummed before agreed, “Okay—after the test—eating and taking a nap.”

“N,” Danny whined.

“Don’t N—,” Dick replied. “Flash wouldn’t—killing yourself to save him.”

“Damn right I wouldn’t!” Wally agreed, even if no one would hear him. Everyone else might still be a little static sounding, but he knew Dick well enough to know what he was saying.

“Already died,” Danny grumbled to himself as he kept working on the wiring.

Dick chose not to respond to the aside, which was probably for the best, and settled back against a wall of the converted bio lab instead. Wally leaned next to him.

“I know that we both know that letting someone stay involved is important for mental health, but you have to be willing to ground Danny when the time comes,” Wally said, just to be able to say it. “I can feel him getting weaker. I’m worried that it’s an exponential thing too, and who knows how much it will worse when the sensors are working.”

Dick sighed next to him. Wally nodded along as if Dick had been agreeing. In the background, Danny, Barry, and Raven were talking.

“I know, he’ll be suborn about it. But you could always point out how he’s the only way to get me back,” Wall shivered as a sudden wave of cold passed over him. “We’ll know that’s not why, but if it works, it works, right?”

“Wally?” Dick asked his name in such an absolutely wrecked way that Wally spun and was reaching out before he remembered that Dick couldn’t see him.

Except that Dick was looking right at him.

Wally could tell, even with the lenses.

“Can—can you see me?”

Dick nodded slowly.

“And—and you can hear me?! You can hear me!” Wally reached for Dick.

His hand went right through him.

Oh.

Small steps.

“It’s hard to hear you,” Barry said, over to Wally’s side in a rush. “It’s like Danny has said, you’re all static. Visually too. It’s like the channel isn’t turned right. But! We can work on refining that until we’ve locked onto the right frequency and then we can work on pulling you out of there! Your aunt is going to strangle you as soon as she can touch you, so be ready for that.”

Wally barked out a teary laugh. “Yeah, she would. I’ll take that. I’ll take being touched just about in any way right now. I mean, just talking to you all! I didn’t know if…”

“Never,” Dick said admittedly. “We’ll always come to get you. And luckily you were smart enough to find Danny.”

“I think that was all luck, nothing smart about it. I’m just glad that—Danny?” Wally looked over to Danny, who was leaning against the equipment, and just knew that things were about to go badly. “Barry! Catch him!”

[cherry-blossom-honey]

Love is about period baskets (Bob Reynolds x F! Reader fluff)

Bob wants to help his girlfriend when she is in pain, so he asks Yelena what to do.

Warning: Just the reader having painful periods and use of (y/n) literally two times

A/N: I suffer from terrible PMS and periods so I'm feeling soft today!

Bob was worried.

You've been dating for less than a month and it was his first time seeing you like that; usually, you were the first person from the team to wake up, cooking breakfast and making sure that nobody overslept.

This time you weren't there.

—I-is (y/n) okay? She told me she was gonna sleep for ten more minutes, but she looked sick— Bob said, with the usual hint of sadness in his eyes.

—Easy, little man. You are not going to die if you're separated for a while— Alexei chuckled, drinking his coffee.

—Don't be rude, idiot— Yelena spat to the bearded man before facing Bob— Do you know what periods are?

—I've heard of them, blood comes out of a woman's-

—YES, yes. Got it— The blonde interrumpted, her cheeks turning red.— And (y/n) has some issues with them. Hers are really painful, so she can't really leave the bed when it happens.

The dark haired man nodded shyly. He wanted to help his girlfriend, the idea of her suffering hurt him.

—Well, you know. You could make her a period basket, and I will help you with that.

—A period basket?— Bob and Alexei said at unison. Yelena sighed.

Men

After a few hours, the duo encouraged your boyfriend to knock on your door. You obviously invited him to come in and he awkwardly handed you a pretty pink box with a white bow. It was full of cute and useful things; pads, painkillers, tea bags and a hot water bottle.

—Oh, Bob— you said, wiping the tears off your eyes— This is beautiful, thank you so much, my love.

—It's for your period— he smiled, looking down— There's more under the hot water thing.

A period basket can't be completed without snacks, and he got you a perfect mix of sweet and salty stuff.

—Peanut butter chocolates?? You are the best, I love these!

—Yelena told me to get them because they're your favorite and you both eat them together— It was obvious that your best friend helped him a little.— Oh! And this is also for you

You looked at him confused as he took his hoodie off, showing a little bit of his toned abs.

—Are you gonna gift me an striptease or what?— You laughed, secretly loving the thought of it.

Bob blushed so intensely you thought he was going to explode.

—Oh, n-no. The hoodie, it's for you. I got more of them so you can keep this one.

That was the sweetest thing somebody has ever done to you. For the first time in at least two days, you got out of the bed only to hug him tight. Bob's big arms surrounded you as if you were his entire world.

—I don't feel so good. Would you cuddle with me?— you asked softly, still hugging him

—Of course I will— Now, he smiled looking directly at you

Once you both lied in bed, you fell asleep to the warmth of his body and his calm breathing.

She's so beautiful, Bob thought, kissing your forehead before closing his own eyes.

[saltnsugarbear]

i see you’ve tentatively opened ur inbox for bob requests lmaoo, may i TIMIDLY request a fox that flips the whole “bob has a breakdown reader comes to help” narrative? ITS A GOOD NARRATIVE but there’s soooo many fics of that, give us some protective bob! some bob with emotional weight!!

shyly putting this on the Robert Reynolds x reader tags doorstep

thank you for the idea, my love! I wanted to see how I felt writing for Bob and if I could find his voice in myself,,,,, I wanted to contribute and I want to give him kisses so thank you thank you <3

I went a bit,,,, idk not like a meltdown but I wanted Bob to be the one that had hope and whimsy!!! Bob is the one to banish the doubt and sadness!!! I feel unsure about this piece and if I like it but here you go Bob enjoyers <3

word count: 1.8k

content warnings: gender neutral reader, 🍃 smoking to cope with existence/trauma/thoughts, reader and Walker have a non-descript past, post Thunderbolts*, existential dread,

side note: did you guys know Bob might have photokinensis (control/production of light) which is pretty cool idk also he dropped out of high school and his addiction started in middle school :( his wiki made me sad

Bob takes care of you in little ways. Quiet ways.

You've learned that he loves quietly. He does your laundry, folds your clothes neatly, and puts them away. He knows your coffee order better than his own, what meals you prefer depending on the restaurant when the team orders out. Bob knows it's easier for you to fall asleep around the team than by yourself, and despite warnings from Walker, how violently you could wake up.

That's how the team first found out Bob could... Well... Glow, for lack of a better description.

Bob's photokinesis was jarring for the whole group. Ava and Yelena whispered softly as they put away blankets while Walker and Bucky picked up leftover trash, snacks, and dishes. Alexei was the only other person asleep on the other side of the couch, so Bob was left hovering near where you rest. No one was paying attention to his silent turmoil, not wanting to turn on the lights in the room and risking a disgruntled group of half-awake Avengerz but not wanting to risk catching an elbow to the stomach like Alexei had earlier that week.

He was so wrapped up in his own thoughts he hadn't noticed that Ava and Yelena had stopped talking. Bob didn't notice the soft glow even as your brows scrunched together, and you grumbled an annoyed "Walker.."

"What?" He chirped defensively, not bothering to look in your direction as he stacked cups in a bowl.

"Turn off the light," you complain, burrowing further into your blanket.

"What ligh-" Walker cuts himself off when he looks over.

Bob misses the way that the girls glance to Walker, who looks to Bucky. None of them had seen Bob display any other powers after the Void's fit over New York. So the soft glow emitting from the man's skin gave them pause, unsure if they should intervene or stay silent. Finally, after a few minutes of staring and your quiet grumbling, Walker makes a choice.

"Bobby-" The sharpness of John's voice makes Bob startle, a bright flash of light blinding him before the room is dark again.

"What the hell," you grumble, finally opening your eyes, officially awake after that. "Why are you yelling at him?"

"I didn't yell-" Walker starts.

"You raised your voice."

"I did not raise-"

"And you know he doesn't like when you call him Bobby." You tack on.

"I know, I forgot." John huffs, glancing at Bob. "Sorry, kid."

"It's fine.." Bob assures him passively, tangling his fingers together as his softly drags a nail over his skin. "I- I didn't turn on the lights, though?"

"You were the light." Ava says bluntly, and Yelena can't help but nod.

"You were glowing, Bob." She says it the same way she would tell him that he was wearing a grey sweater or he had done the dishes.

"I.. I was?" He asks, glancing at each of his housemates for confirmation. Ava huffs with an endeared roll of her eyes while Yelena nods solemnly again. Bucky and John look the most put-off but the revelation, so Bob is unsure if he should be alarmed or not.

"Next time you decide to glow, Bob," You start collecting your blanket as you prepare to get up. "Do it when I'm awake. And when I have sunglasses on, in case you decide to blind Johnny again."

"O-Okay.." He nods, shuffling back so you can stand up.

"Thanks, bub," you say softly, nudging him with your shoulder as you pass. He hums shortly, watching as you make your way down the hall.

The rest of the supers watch Bob quietly before Yelena speaks up.

"We will be talking about this tomorrow.." An easy dismissal that the others agree on, different noises and hums from them. Bob nods, shifting as he watches everyone else clear up. Ava sighs quietly and gives him a pitying look.

"We're not upset, Bob, just surprised. Go get ready for bed." The reassurance settles something in his stomach. He feels like he's can let out a breath again. Bob carries those words with him when he climbs into bed.

Not upset. Just surprised.

Bob can live with that.

Being in an apartment full of people in different stages of recovery from varying substances can be... Stifling, for when you want to let loose. You, Ava, and Bucky all made a vote to keep any form of alcohol or drug stronger than Tylenol out of the house. For the sake of the remaining Avengerz. The three of you also agreed your votes counted as more, as the people least affected by the ban, when the other four tried to argue against it. Not that Bob had much reason to fight it. It was for the better, really.

Except, you didn't realize how horribly this plan backfired until you wanted to smoke or have a glass of wine after an annoying day with Valentina or reading a particularly gruesome article. Or dealing with the most recent, Sam's copyright lawsuit.

As such, your only options were drinking in the dark of your bedroom or standing on the balcony and smoking. The latter is the more appealing, letting you watch the streets with a level of detachment you only got when you were high. The rest of the team had dispersed to their separate night activities, watching TV or sparring or training.

So, you're surprised when you hear the door open behind you. You turn to look out of reflex, and your curiosity peaks when you spot Bob in the doorway. He sniffs softly, and you remember the joint between your fingers.

"Oh, fuck-" You scramble to put out the joint, stubbing it out against the railing. "Sorry."

"It's fine, never really liked pot.." He laughs softly. Bob watches silently as you tuck it away in a small tin and shove it back into your pocket. "What are you, uh.. What are you doing out here?"

"Needed some quiet to... Well..." You sigh. "Like you guys and everything but.."

You let out a deep breath, leaning against the railing heavily. Bob nods behind you, taking a few steps closer to where you stand. He took the stubbing of the joint as the silent invitation it was to stay out with you.

"Alexei is a little loud... Ava and Walker are always fighting." Bob shares quietly.

"Not fighting," You muse before you look back at him. "Maybe bickering?"

"Bickering.." Bob agrees quietly, nodding a little. You hum before turning back to the city lights.

"C'mere," you call him over, glancing back at him when you don't hear him move. "I'm not gonna let you fall."

The assurance makes Bob's stomach twist with an emotion he can't name but is finding himself familiar with the longer he's a part of the team. He muses over it long enough that eventually you hold your hand out to him, not bothering to turn to him. Bob tugs at the cuff of his sleeve before putting his wrist in your grasp.

He doesn't miss the huff you let out, but it follows as you gently tug him closer to the railing. He can feel a flush making its way to his face when you cradle his forearm against your side like a football. Your hold on his arm is gentle but firm, keeping him in place beside you.

"Those people will never know what we go through..." You say quietly, watching people jay-walk, honk their horns at one another, and pass each other in fleeting steps.

"Isn't that the point?" Bob asks, keeping his eyes on the buildings, watching people walk the halls and live their lives. You make a noise beside him, contemplating it silently. You dwell on it for a few minutes before you speak up again.

"Do you ever... Regret signing up for that Sentry serum shit?" You ask Bob softly, eyes tracing the cars as they wind around the city. Bob hums softly, tilting his head this way and that as he thought.

"I wouldn't have met you guys... Probably still doing meth and signing spinning... So this is probably better?" He says it like it's a question, and then he nods. "I don't think I regret it."

You nod, letting that sit in the air, wishing you could cling to that feeling he had. You can't find it in yourself tonight, grabbing around for something that isn't there.

"Do you regret yours?" Bob asks in turn. You turn it over in your mind for a couple of minutes, listening to the city noise.

"I was a kid..." You tell him. "I didn't know... I didn't-"

You cut yourself off, letting out a breath. "I'd stop myself if I could go back."

"Then you wouldn't be here, and we wouldn't be here.." Bob protests quietly.

"You guys could still do this without me," you counter, crossing your arms over the railing. "Be the New Avengerz... Deal with Valentina, play dress up every now and then..."

"Who would fix Walker's shield?" Bob asks quietly, and you can't help but scoff. It's not a mean scoff, more of a huff of exasperation and fondness for the man.

"He can still fight crime with a taco," you tell him. "Sometimes the doubt and the pain is just...."

"All consuming," He fills in. You nod. It's the only way to describe it on nights like tonight.

"Guess you would know something about that." You sigh, having forgotten who you were talking to. He shrugs beside you, making a sound of indifference.

"It's not always like that." Bob reminds you. "Like a wave or- or Ava. It comes and goes."

The comparison makes you snort, ducking your head to hide your grin. Bob sees it, though, adopting a small smile of his own.

"You guys made it better, though."

"Even Walker?" You muse. That keeps Bob quiet for a moment.

"Not always, but... It has to be better than dealing with it alone?"

You hum softly, mulling over his words. Apply them to the pit gnawing at your stomach and climbing at your throat.

"It eventually goes away... Even if it's just for an hour or a month." Bob says. "Like the seasons..."

His words settle over you like a blanket, soothing the doubts in your brain.

"You should become a therapist," you tell him. Your words surprise a laugh out of Bob. You sigh softly, feeling the light buzz behind your eyes.

You lean against him but just enough that if he pulled away, you wouldn't fall over. Instead, Bob finds the pressure comforting. The feeling of his arm cradled against your body and your weight beside him fills Bob with an overwhelming sense of peace. He doesn't even release he's leaning against you as well.

You hum quietly, taking the small victory of him pushing against you. He's warm, even through his sweater, and it bleeds into your own being, taking that warmth and holding in your chest as you look at the city. There's a soft glow in your periphery, and you can't help but grin.

"You're glowing again."

[dulceamore]

never truly gone

pairings joel miller x reader

summary after a year of joel's death, the weight of his absence lingered, but in the quiet streets of jackson, amidst the fading light and the familiar strum of his guitar, you found him again—not in memory, but in something real, something whole, in the afterlife.

tags pure sadness, you and joel together with sarah reunite. heavily unedited.

masterlist

the pain was unbearable. it wrapped around you like a vice, suffocating, unrelenting. every breath came ragged, every movement slower than the last.

joel had been gone for a year. a whole year without him. you had fought to survive, fought to live in the world he left behind because that’s what he would have wanted.

you thought of joel’s house in jackson. it was warm then, before everything fell apart.

you could still see the soft glow of the evening sun slipping through the windows, casting golden light across the hardwood floors. that home was more than just walls and furniture.

it was laughter, late-night talks, love. it was joel.

you could almost hear his voice again, murmuring stories about sarah, the daughter he lost too soon, the wound he carried but never quite healed.

you remembered the way he traced the edges of her worn photograph, his fingers reverent.

"she had the brightest smile, lit up the whole damn place."

you had been careless. just for a moment. a single misstep in the chaos of the infected. as its rotting teeth sank deep into your arm before you could react.

the pain was sharp, burning, spreading like fire through your veins.

after much convincing, ellie pulled the trigger straight into your skull with very much pain and regret. you didn't want them to see you roaming around as an infected and of course they wouldn't want the same.

you opened your eyes and blinked, adjusting to the glow. you were back at jackson.

sarah.

the recognition was immediate.

she stood before you, her kind eyes filled with understanding. she was no longer just the girl in joel’s faded photograph. she was real.

"you’re finally here," she said gently.

your breath hitched, emotions flooding through you.

"sarah..." she stepped closer, reaching out. her touch was feather-light, grounding you in a way you hadn’t felt in a long time. then, she smiled, a small, knowing smile.

"ever since my dad arrived, he’s talked about you nonstop. about how much you meant to him, how much he loved you." she paused, laughing softly, eyes glimmering. "he told me i’d like you."

your throat tightened, unable to process the weight of those words.

"and do you?"

sarah’s fingers tightened around yours, comforting. "i already do."

"we’ve been watching you, you know. dad and i. every day."

your breath caught in your throat. she continued, her voice soft with affection.

"even when you thought you were alone, you weren’t. dad wouldn’t let that happen. i wouldn’t let that happen."

tears welled in your eyes.

then, from somewhere ahead, the faint strum of a guitar floated through the air.

you stopped. sarah did too.

the sound was familiar, achingly so. the melody was slow, deliberate, each chord stretching into the next like a whispered confession. it was joel’s song. the one he always played when he thought no one was listening.

sarah’s breath hitched, her fingers tightening around yours.

"it’s him," she whispered.

the two of you followed the sound, drawn to it like a pulse, like a lifeline. the notes grew clearer, richer, guiding you through the winding streets until you finally saw him—joel, sitting on the porch, his guitar resting comfortably against his leg, fingers plucking at the strings like it was second nature.

he looked up, meeting your gaze. the music didn’t stop.

sarah squeezed your hand, smiling softly.

"dad’s been waiting for you," she murmured.

your throat tightened, everything inside you unraveling at once.

joel gave you that familiar, knowing look—warm, steady, grounding. and as the song carried on, winding through the quiet of jackson, you realized—

he had never really left. not in the ways that mattered. not in the ways that counted.

"hey, sweetheart."

the sound shattered you. a choked sob escaped, your body moving before you could think. you stumbled toward him, eyes blurring, heart pounding.

he stood up and caught you, holding you tight, gripping the back of your head like he couldn’t bear to let go.

"i’m here," he murmured, voice thick with emotion.

"i’ve been waiting for you."

your fingers curled into his shirt, your whole body trembling.

"i tried so hard, joel. i tried to stay strong, but it was" your voice broke "it was so damn hard without you." joel swallowed hard, his grip tightening.

"i know, sweetheart. i know."

you pulled back, looking into his eyes, searching for something, confirmation that this wasn’t just another dream, another cruel trick of your mind.

"i missed you so much," you whispered, voice barely holding together. joel exhaled shakily, lifting a hand to brush your hair back like he’d done so many times before.

"i missed you too. more than i can ever say." his hand trembled as he cupped your face, thumb running gently over your cheek, wiping away the tears you couldn’t hold back

"i hated watching you struggle," joel whispered. "seeing you hurt, alone. every day, i wanted to pull you into my arms, tell you it was gonna be okay."

"you wouldn’t let me give up, would you?"

joel shook his head, smiling through his own tears.

"damn right i wouldn’t."

sarah stepped beside him, looking at you with warmth. "see? told you he wouldn’t shut up about you."

joel chuckled softly, squeezing your arms. "she’s not wrong."

you blinked at him, overwhelmed by everything, the love, the pain, the relief.

"i thought i’d never see you again," you whispered. joel’s expression softened, voice rough with love. "you always were stubborn." he pulled you close again, resting his chin on the top of your head.

"but i told you, didn’t i? i’m never really gone." you let out a shaky breath, closing your eyes against his warmth, against the safety of him.

then, joel pulled back slightly, holding your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away your tears. his gaze was soft, filled with quiet affection.

"smile for me," he murmured.

the words broke you completely.

you let out a choked laugh between the tears, shaking your head. "i can’t."

joel tilted his head, giving you that familiar, teasing look, the one you thought you’d never see again.

"yeah, you can." his forehead rested against yours, his voice no more than a whisper.

"you always could."

you tried. tried for him. tried for sarah. tried for yourself. and as your lips curled into the smallest, most fragile smile,

joel exhaled shakily, relief pouring into his expression.

"there she is," he said. but instead of letting go, his arms tightened around you.

"we’re finally together," joel whispered, his voice trembling.

sarah stepped forward, tears shining in her eyes, looking between the two of you.

without hesitation, she wrapped her arms around both of you, pressing herself into the embrace.

joel held you both like he never planned to let go again.

after all the loss, you were whole again. and this time, nothing would take him away from you.

[elleaitch22]

Terms of Endearment

Chapter 9: In the Name of Love

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Azzi Fudd

A/N: Welcome back to the show! This was a little rushed, ngl. Half of it was written when I was dozing off at 5 am and the other half is from when I was dozing off after my pool day. Please live react or leave comments if you can! As always, I hope you love it!! xx Elle

Warnings: Detailed emotional abuse, psychological manipulation, disordered eating, food control, referenced date r*pe, gaslighting, flashbacks, dissociation, panic attacks, referenced murder

Word Count: 3.7k

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Paige didn’t make her talk. She didn’t make her move. She didn’t even make her eat.

Azzi had just stopped crying when Soleil padded into the living room. “I’m hungwy.” She rubbed her eyes, still sleepy. She walked to the couch and nestled herself between the two women. “I want noodles with Azzi.”

Azzi smiled softly, “Wants pho.”

Paige pulled out her phone, tapping her screen, and putting an order in quickly. “It’ll be here in 20 minutes Lei.”

“Azzi still sad?” Soleil’s big blue eyes, full of pity and sadness. When no one gave an answer, she looked to her mother expectantly. “Azzi is sad. We watching Fwozen. S’her favowite.”

Paige followed Soleil’s instructions without question. When “Love is an Open Door” played, Paige was happy to ride down to the lobby to pick up the food. When she returned, Elsa was lecturing Anna about marriage.

The three of them ate their food huddled together. When Soleil finished, she made Azzi lie back before climbing onto her stomach and laying her head on her chest. Azzi’s arms wrapped around her, hands running up and down her back slowly.

Soleil’s breath deepened, warm and soft against Azzi’s chest. She stared at the tv, not really seeing the movie playing.

The room was still. Peaceful. Safe.

“I met Grant when I was 18.” She started quietly. “My best friends, Caroline, Colleen, and I all went to this frat party. I only had a few drinks, but I blacked out.” Azzi is almost reliving it, not even hearing Paige’s sharp gasp. “I woke up at his apartment naked. He came back with waffles, and I didn’t want to hurt his feelings, so I stayed. I was so mad at myself. He was my first, and I couldn’t believe it was something I couldn’t even remember.”

Paige’s hand covered Azzi’s, breaking her out of her flashback. “That wasn’t your fault, Azzi. He drugged you, and even if he didn’t, drunk people can’t consent. This is all on him.”

Azzi nodded, not really listening to the blonde. “He was so good at first. He treated me like I hung the moon. But it was little things. He chipped away at me until I was exactly what he wanted.” She felt tears welling up in her eyes. “I didn’t even notice the manipulation until it was too late. I wasn’t allowed to eat carbs because it made my face puffy. I had to try on my outfits before I could leave the house, and if he felt like it was too tight, I had to weigh in. If I was too heavy, it was going to be a week of kid’s meals or even meal replacement shakes if it was bad enough.” She shook her head. “He wanted me to be healthy, he just didn’t know how to help me in a healthy way.”

Paige got on the floor and kneeled in front of Azzi. “He wanted to control you Azzi, that’s all. You were already healthy.”

“No, he just wanted me to be healthy. I’m not good at making choices, so he helped me. Sometimes I have trouble remembering things right. I’m probably just twisting his words and making him look bad. He said I used to do that all the time.” Paige brushed a few loose strands out of Azzi’s face, almost wanting her to snap out of it and come back to her.

Azzi’s eyes were glassy, locked on some fixed point beyond Paige. Her voice didn’t match her face — it was too calm, too quiet, like she was reading from a script she’d memorized to survive. Paige froze. She’d seen this kind of dissociation before – she’d seen it in herself. She hated that Azzi was experiencing it too.

Then she started again. “I miss Carol and Colleen. I couldn’t talk to them because they were trouble. They wanted me to wear bad outfits and drink, but Grant didn’t like going out anymore.” Tears slowly fell down her face. “I miss my mom and dad. I miss my brothers. I haven’t seen them in five years.”

She went silent again. Paige was left helpless, just watching the brunette cycle through her thoughts. She was looking at Paige, but her eyes didn’t register the blonde. She wasn’t here – not really.

“I never should’ve left him.” Azzi whispered. “He took such good care of me. He loved me so much, and now I’m all alone.”

Paige got closer, cupping Azzi’s cheeks in her hands. She brought her forehead to Azzi’s, letting it rest there and saying affirmations until she was back. Azzi, you’re safe. You’re okay. You are not alone. You don’t ever have to be alone again. You are good. You are perfect. It’s me, Paige. And Soleil. You have us. You have a family. We want you. We will always want you.

She didn’t know how long she knelt, repeating the same words. But she could tell when Azzi was out of her trance. A gasp, and then more tears. Falling faster, uncontrolled. She tried to keep her cries small and silent with Soleil laying on her.

When Paige tried to move her again, Azzi’s grip tightened once more. “I’m so sorry Paige. I should’ve kept her safe.”

“No, don’t do that, Azzi. You kept her safe. Even when I got there, you were still keeping her safe.” Paige paused, trying to think of what to say next. “You were good, Azzi. You did such a good job protecting Lei.” Azzi let out a breath she didn’t even know she was holding. “Thank you, Azzi.”

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Paige didn’t move, content to stay on the floor and stroke Azzi’s hair gently. Eventually, Azzi joined Soleil in dreamland.

The blonde bolted to her bedroom. She needed to get out of this suit, and she needed to hit something. She needed to be quick though; she didn’t want Azzi to wake up by herself. After pulling on a pair of basketball shorts and a hoodie, she decided she should probably get something for Azzi to wear too.

She thought back to the pictures Azzi had sent her earlier. She looked so pretty in her yellow dress. She looked happy with Soleil. Paige had been looking forward to getting home and seeing Azzi and Soleil in their matching outfits watching a movie, or working on an artistic masterpiece, or just talking.

But he ruined that.

She didn’t know how to fix it yet, but she knew one thing: he would never control Azzi again. She’d make sure of it.

Paige was hot with anger again.

She yanked open a drawer and pulled out her favorite lilac sweatpants and a plain t-shirt. She grabbed a pair of fuzzy socks and the matching sweatshirt, wanting Azzi to be as comfortable as she wanted.

Paige’s phone flashed with a notification.

Ash 🤠: Found him. Grant Hayes.

Attachment: 1 file

P. Buckets 🏀: Thanks Ash.

When Paige clicked the PDF, she realized she made the right choice in firing Q and promoting Ashlyn. She’d pulled emails, phone records, text messages, social media history, bill information. Everything.

Ash 🤠: Morgan filled me in. Don’t crash out over this. It’s…bad.

P. Buckets 🏀: How did you find him?

Ash 🤠: He’s messy and too cocky. He’s been posting about Azzi since she left him.

Before she let herself start reading the file, Paige pulled the blanket off her bed and walked back out to the living room. She covered Azzi and Soleil and sat next to their heads.

She propped her feet up on the coffee table and got to reading.

After an hour of reading, Paige’s emotions had gone from anger to wrath to fury to rage. Her body was wound tightly with anger. Paige thought the things Azzi had said earlier were bad. But it was nothing compared to the six years of abuse she’d suffered.

He had messages with his father asking ways to make her stay. His dad told him to wake her up to talk the nights before she had class and to start a big fight right before a big exam. She found messages telling his friends what he’d done to trap her. Found messages about the drugs he used the night he met her. Paige found messages where he’d been stalking her, waiting to get a chance with her. He tricked her into getting on his phone plan, then turned her service off. He would change the WIFI password so she couldn’t use any of her apps. There was a lock on the refrigerator and pantry that he only opened when she was cooking for him. She wasn’t even allowed to eat the meals she’d prepared unless he said she could. She had to send him pictures of everything she ate; the portions looked like something a second grader would need. She found hundreds of messages sent to Caroline and Colleen, even a few sent to Azzi’s family.

Then Paige saw his messages to Azzi. Saw every name he ever called her. Said she was dumb and worthless for wanting to be a teacher. He told her she was lucky he was with her because no one else could love someone like her. She forgot to cook one night because she was studying, and he told her she’d be the shittiest wife. She got a bad grade on a child development exam after a night of fighting, and he told her she’d be a terrible mother. It would be child abuse to have a baby with her. He blamed her for all their issues. Blamed it on hormones, her indecisiveness, even her kindness. He would clean it up though. He would buy flowers and chocolate, telling her she couldn’t eat it because she’d gain too much weight. Then he’d say he only did it because he loved her and cared about her.

Paige locked her phone and stared at the blank tv screen. She was angry before. She was angry just by hearing the things Azzi had said.

But now, now she wanted to kill him. She would make what she did to Manny look like child’s play. She needed to hit something; she didn’t want to be this angry in front of Azzi.

She unlocked her phone again, going to the group chat.

God’s Favorites + Kamorea 🍫🍒

P Boogies 🌈🤰🏼🤪: Anybody home?

Muhl Rat 👯‍♀️🤞🏻🇭🇷: almost, but me and N have a date at 7. what’s up?

Baby GOAT 🐐🤣💃🏾: Me. Omw up now.

Jane from the Pyramids 🪡👸🏻🇪🇬: Meeeeeee! Me and Ice are working on Azzi’s spot.

Ice Princess ❄️👑🧚🏽‍♀️: we’re coming up now

Muhl Rat 👯‍♀️🤞🏻🇭🇷: WAIT FOR ME!!!!!

P Boogies 🌈🤰🏼🤪: Actively trying to avoid catching another body.

P Boogies 🌈🤰🏼🤪: Come in quietly. They’re sleeping.

She went to another group chat.

Beauties and the Bucket 👸🏻👸🏽🪣

P Boogies 🌈🤰🏼🤪: Just need y’all to stay with A and Lei til I get back.

P Boogies 🌈🤰🏼🤪: Maybe just turn on Bluey if they wake up. Don’t make her talk

Jana and Ice liked both messages, and Paige went to the last group chat.

Unholy Trinity 😇😈

P Boogies 🌈🤰🏼🤪: Need to smash some shit before I get locked up

P Boogies 🌈🤰🏼🤪: stg no bull

Muhl Rat 👯‍♀️🤞🏻🇭🇷: parking now. can use staging room??

Paige heard the elevator ding, and she stood up quietly, not wanting to risk waking the two. She looked at them and got stuck.

Since she got back home, she hadn’t really taken the chance to look at them. Soleil and Azzi. Together. They looked like everything Paige wanted; something she thought she could never have. She wanted to crawl in next to them and never move again.

That’s how the girls found her. Bent over looking at the nappers with a look of awe on her face.

Nika let out a quiet cough, making Paige straighten up quickly. “You don’t look like you’re about to kill someone.”

Her face darkened again, and she stalked towards the quartet. “Nika, KK, let’s go.”

 ~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

The women rode the elevator down to the thirtieth floor. The apartment she chose was perfectly staged. The perfect canvas to ruin.

Paige’s body was wound tight, like a spring ready to explode. She held the door open for Nika and KK. Paige walked past them. She paced the length of the living room, fisting and releasing her hands, rubbing her face and hair with rough movements. Trying to release some of the anger without being too destructive.

Her breath got louder and quicker. She picked up one of the magazines off the coffee table. There was a dull thud when it hit the wall. She knocked a glass off the coffee table, a little tension releasing when it shattered.

Then she exploded.

Couch cushions were ripped. The fruit bowl on the counter was launched at another wall. A dining room chair was used to destroy the glass coffee table before she smashed the chair until it was broken. One of the chair legs was smashed into the oven door and induction cooktop. She used a different one to swing at the refrigerator until it was dented. Lamps were thrown and broken. The common areas destroyed.

Paige paused to look around the room. She felt a little better, but when she looked back at the kitchen, she remembered.

He told her she needed to lose weight. She was fucking perfect. She cooked for that bitch, and he didn’t even let her eat. And she thought he loved her, that she was lucky to be with him.

Her temper flared again.

She yanked the broken oven handle off the door and headed for the bathroom. The glass shower doors were her next victim. The sound of the glass showering down was cathartic. The toilet took a little longer to break, but Paige was persistent. She went to the sink, gripping the sides tightly. Her breath was ragged. She couldn’t calm down; she was so angry. She wanted to punch the mirror, but she knew it would cut her hand up, and she didn’t want to scare Azzi with her violence.

She tugged off her hoodie and wrapped her hand and struck. Her destruction started again. Mirrors, walls, doors. All of them fell victim to her fists and kicks.

Paige ended up back in the living room. Azzi didn’t deserve any of that. I have to fix it.

She fell to her knees next to the glass from the coffee table.

Nika moved first. She squatted beside Paige, making sure to miss the debris. “Come on, let’s sit.”

Somehow, Paige had missed one of the armchairs and two dining room seats.

The blonde glared at her little sister, “Did you know what he did to her?”

KK’s eyes widened, “She didn’t tell us anything outside of him being too controlling. Not letting her make decisions, stuff like that. What happened?” She asked warily.

Paige didn’t know what she could have told them without it crossing boundaries. “Her ex was outside the building today. Sent her into a spiral.”

The other two women tensed. “Did he do something to her?” Nika questioned.

“Not today, but I had Ash look into him. He was awful to her.” She sighed. “No one fought for her. She was all alone. Even when she got to Chicago, she was by herself.”

KK was hesitant, but she wrapped her arm around Paige’s shoulders and pulled her close. “Yeah, but she has us now. She’s going to be okay.”

“Paige, she’s seemed okay, and I think a big part of that is you and Soleil.” Nika added. “What do you want to do? I know you wanna help her, and we can help you.”

Paige ran her hands over her face. “I want to murder him.” She breathes out harshly. “I don’t know. I know she doesn’t feel safe. She feels like she fucked up. I don’t know how to help her.”

“Maybe you can just feel her out, see what she needs and do that.” KK suggested.

Paige nodded, “Yeah. Maybe that’ll be good enough. I want her to be happy.”

Nika put a hand on Paige’s leg. “You’re showing up, P. That’s more than anyone’s done for her in a while.”

“I don’t want her to feel like she’s broken.” Paige whispered, jaw clenched.

“Well make sure she isn’t.”

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Azzi wakes up to a knee in her stomach and a hand in her face. Soleil.

For a second, she doesn’t remember what happened earlier. She remembered the amazing day she’d been having with Soleil, then Grant’s face popped into her head, and she stiffened.

Soleil’s head popped up from Azzi’s neck, smile already stretched across her cute little face. “Mownin’ Azzi!”

“Good morning, Princess.” Azzi smiled, voice raspy with sleep.

Jana’s face entered Azzi’s field of view. “Hey girl! Paige left some clothes out for you to wear so you don’t have to stay in that dress.” She rubbed Soleil’s head, “Come on Lei, let’s go change.”

Azzi wandered back to Paige’s bedroom. Her bedroom wasn’t dark and sleek like Azzi had expected it to be. It was neutral and calm; Ice had done a good job in here.

On the top of her dresser was a lavender sweatsuit. The fabric was soft, like it’d been worn a million times. She pulled the dress over her head, pulling the clothes on quickly.

She was enveloped in the smell of Paige Bueckers. The smell was crisp and a little citrusy with a hint of sandalwood, vanilla, and spice. It was intoxicating.

Azzi smiled at the fuzzy socks Paige had left her. The whole outfit felt like a hug.

She strolled out to the living room, pulling the blanket from before around her. It smelled like pear and white pepper; sweet and warm all at once.

She was waiting for Soleil to come back out when the elevator dings.

Azzi’s whole body froze. He was here.

She didn’t move until a blonde head peeked around the corner. Then, she was able to breathe again.

“Oh. You’re up!” Paige started, surprised. “Did you have a good nap?”

Azzi’s head tilted a bit. Was Paige mad that she slept over here? She remembered Paige saying something to her before she went to sleep. Maybe Paige really was mad about Azzi risking Soleil’s safety.

She looked at the floor, tracing the patterns in the wood with her eyes. She nodded, too afraid to see the look of disappointment or irritation on Paige’s face.

“Good. I’m happy you were able to rest.”

Azzi’s head shot up. Brows furrowed, “You wanted me to sleep?”

“Yeah,” Paige started, walking towards the couch. “You had a rough afternoon.”

The soft look in Paige’s eyes was disarming. Azzi nodded again, still a little confused. “I was gonna chill for the rest of the day. Was thinking we could talk about the school tour, then just hang out over here. Everybody else came over an hour ago, so we’d just be vibing with the family.”

Azzi was thankful for the clear direction and path the rest of the day would take. She wasn’t sure if she’d be able to make more decisions.

Soleil walked into the living room halfway through the conversation about Four Oaks. Her blue eyes moved between both women before she decided to sprawl out across them both: head in Azzi’s lap and legs on Paige’s.

She told her mom how much she liked the school, but how she still wanted Azzi to be her teacher.

“Would you like it if you went to school for the morning, then finished school with Azzi in the afternoon?” Paige suggested, looking to Azzi with her brows raised.

Soleil’s head popped up at the idea. “That’s pewfect! I get new fwiends, and I get to keep Azzi!”

“Is that okay with you, Azzi?” Paige questions. “It’ll give you more time to figure out what you want to do for work.”

Azzi nodded quickly. “Yes! That sounds perfect. No more money though.”

Soleil, satisfied with the outcome of the conversation, decided now would be the perfect time for a dance party. She rounded up the other ladies and made them all stand in the living room.

Paige pulled up Just Dance 2 on YouTube and smiled while Soleil and KK stole the show.

The rest of the day is light. Full of laughter and love. It was the most relaxed Azzi had been in a while.

Everyone sat in the dining nook to have pizza. Soleil claimed Azzi’s lap as her throne since they are “gluten fwee besties” and Azzi wouldn’t have it any other way.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Azzi was back on the couch wrapped in the same blanket once everyone has left and Soleil has been put to sleep.

Paige sat next to her quietly, eyes glued to the muted television.

“He makes me feel broken.” Azzi whispers. “I thought I was over it, but I’m just as weak and broken as I was the day I left him.”

Paige moves a little closer, “Why do you feel like you’re broken or weak?”

“I feel like I should be over it by now. I’ve been away from him for two years, and all he had to do was look at me and I fell apart.”

“But you got away from him, Azzi. That makes you strong. A lot of people never get out.” Paige ducked her head to make sure Azzi was listening.

Azzi pulled her knees to her chest, laying her head on them to look at Paige. “I know a lot of the stuff he said isn’t true, but I don’t know the difference anymore.”

“Well stay, don’t run. I can show you. Soleil can show you. We will all show you what love looks like. Let me help you, please.” Paige’s heart cracked a little at the tears in Azzi’s eyes.

“I’m scared. I don’t know how.” Azzi whimpered.

Paige’s heart broke a little more. And she started to plan. She would do whatever she needed to make Azzi feel like the most loved woman she knew.

Paige draped on arm around Azzi’s shoulders and let the other come up to hold her face. “I’ll teach you, Az. I’ll show you. You just have to let me.” She wiped a tear as Azzi gave a single nod. “You don’t ever have to be alone again, Azzi. You’re not alone. I got you.”

[cameronsbabydoll]

can u pls do one on how puppy reader and rafe r around his family as well? i cant imagine how he’d have to tame her infront of his dad or does his dad find her cute? also!!! what about puppy reader and rafe being at her family’s bbq or something like that and she calls her real dad daddy and rafe is just annoyed in general bc her family is too much for him and that’s kind of the last straw and he punishes her maybe or says something super mean (or maybe spanks her in her childhood bedroom) and she’s all teary eyed and sad around her family after that

also!!! can i ask which reader do u like writing about the most? 🥥🥥

a/n: i luv writing for babydoll!reader and bunny!reader but puppy!reader is growing on me cuz she’s so cute!

around rafe’s family:

puppy!reader tries so hard to be good. she’s still bubbly and sweet, but definitely more on edge. she clings to rafe a lot, not out of neediness, but nerves. his house is big and quiet, his dad has that disapproving look all the time, and rose is all sharp smiles and polite judgment.

she sits very pretty at dinners. hands folded, lips glossy, answering questions sweetly even if she doesn’t quite understand them.

wags her metaphorical tail when ward chuckles and says, “this one’s like a little golden retriever, huh?”

rafe acts all annoyed about it — sighs, mumbles “yeah, she’s something,” — but secretly he likes that his dad thinks she’s sweet and harmless. he likes having her under the table with her head on his knee, or feeding her bites off his plate when rose isn’t looking.

but if she gets too talkative, or interrupts him, or says something that makes her sound dumber than he wants to admit she is — he’ll squeeze her thigh too hard, or lean down and growl, “quiet. now.” in her ear.

she always nods quick, eyes wide and wet, trying to be obedient. even if she forgets two minutes later and starts rambling about how her shoes are the same color as strawberry milk.

around her family:

this is where it really spirals.

her house is loud and full of love — cousins running around, her mom and aunts gossiping while cutting watermelon, her dad by the grill with a beer and a towel over his shoulder.

puppy!reader is glowing in this environment — wearing a frilly sundress, barefoot in the grass, squealing every time someone offers her a snack or tugs her into a hug.

and when she calls her dad “daddy” rafe is gritting his teeth every time it slips out of her mouth in that soft, sweet tone that should be for him only.

she brings rafe a lemonade like a good girl, tries to sit on his lap in a lawn chair, but he’s not having it. he’s grumpy. her brothers are all teasing him, calling her their “baby girl,” and her dad claps him on the back like he’s proud to let him date her.

that sends rafe into a quiet, simmering spiral — the way her whole family acts like he’s some safe, boring boyfriend when he’s anything but.

it all comes to a head later, in her childhood bedroom, of all places.

she’s still giggling from the BBQ, pulling him in by the hand, until he snaps — voice low and sharp:

“you let your brothers baby you like that in front of me again and see what happens.”

“you think i won’t put you over your little pink bed and spank the brat out of you right now?”

she doesn’t even talk back — just gets all misty-eyed and small, murmuring a little “i didn’t mean to,” that he doesn’t acknowledge.

and yeah. he absolutely bends her over that ruffled pink comforter, hand over her mouth so the family downstairs won’t hear, spanking her hard enough to leave little pink prints that match the bows on her panties.

after, she’s a little mess — red cheeks, sniffly, clinging to his shirt as he pulls her back together.

and when she comes downstairs again, hair mussed and eyes glassy, the family just assumes she got overwhelmed.

but rafe knows. and she knows.

and she doesn’t call anyone else “daddy” the rest of the weekend.

[cryinggirlnamedhelen]

thinking about deity!rin, who is dreadful at art.

truly, whenever he is sketching or painting even the simplest of objects, everyone in the noble court is cringing or discreetly—sometimes not so discreetly, in the case of deity!shidou—at the sight. even the most polite deity, deity!yukimiya, has a smile that looks a bit too tight at the corners.

of course, that did upset rin just a bit, considering how he was fond of art. whatever. those comments meant nothing to him. his daughter, kigiku, always appreciated his art. she was only a few hundred years old, 203 years old to be exact, and yet she was more mature than nearly all of the noble court of deities.

but one day, when deity!isagi steps into rin’s temple for a favor, he’s met with a distinct surprise. hanging in rin’s office was a painting. possibly the most perfect painting that isagi had ever seen.

a painting of you.

everyone knew that exactly 204 years ago, rin had brought a mortal woman back to the heavens. you were scorned, mistreated, and abused by numerous members of the noble court, mostly women; although those who didn’t mistreat you pitied you. after all, you were soon pregnant with rin’s daughter.

due to such a scandal, you married rin in the heavens, therefore becoming a noblewoman despite being a mortal. but soon after kigiku’s birth, you had jumped from the heavens, never to be found again. you weren’t able to handle the cruelty of the other nobles.

isagi knew that rin never moved on from you. isagi’s known rin for thousands of years now, and never once had he seen rin so angry, nor so heartbroken. and yet rin did his best with raising kigiku the best that he could, as well as he could without your help.

isagi could only marvel at the painting of you. it wasn’t common practice to step into another noble’s personal rooms, especially not an office, but isagi considered himself close enough with rin to brush off such manners. his eyes scanned the painting. each stroke was handled with perfection, and for a moment, it was almost as if you were right in front of isagi, alive.

isagi knew that rin would never hire someone else to draw you. but from the date at the bottom of the parchment, this was a painting from 203 years ago. a whole year after you died. did rin draw you from memory?

meanwhile, rin is in the mortal realm with kigiku, stepping into the streets of japan’s edo period. kigiku has always enjoyed being in the mortal realm; after all, that was where her mother grew up. to the humans, she didn’t look any older than four years old, and to rin, she didn’t act any older than a human four year old.

kigiku has grown up constantly looking at the painting of you, her dead mother. but she was too young to understand that mama wasn’t coming back like rin had constantly said.

“your mom will come back one day. just not…just not soon.” rin would always tell her, kigiku’s face contoured with sadness. even her name was a constant reminder to rin of you. you and rin didn’t know what to name her at first, but when you had passed, it had been the season of when the kigiku flower bloomed. that’s how kigiku received her name.

and as kigiku is grasping rin’s much larger hand in her tiny one, she sees a figure in front of her in the crowded streets. a woman wearing a golden kimono with a sunny kigiku print, carrying an umbrella over her shoulder. strangely, for some reason, kigiku feels the urge to run up to you.

and what else is a 203 year old child to do except follow her instincts? she was her father’s daughter after all.

running up and grasping the woman’s kimono, the woman turned around and looked at the small girl in confusion. but before rin could even run over and take the girl away and make her apologize for her rudeness, kigiku’s entire face suddenly lit up.

“mama!”

rin froze. he glanced up at the woman, and his turquoise eyes widened. was he seeing a ghost? but you were dead! you died 203 years ago. “(y/n)—?”

“lady (y/n)? are you alright?”

a younger girl with plainer clothing, perhaps a servant, came up to the woman—you—and reached for your arm, checking for any dirty spots. “it’s alright. she was just curious.” you said calmly.

rin didn’t know if he wanted to laugh or cry. lady (y/n)? of course you got reincarnated as a noble.

the universe really hated him.

ts is so buns💔

[mistressofthemanor]

masterofthemanor

"And you wouldn't argue with that, right?" He peeved her further, seeing her smirk and knowing she had recognised the similarities between her and their daughter when it came to discipline and consistency, although, he'd have argued that Celeste was a tad bit stricter with Ariadnè than Narcissa used to be with her and Draco. Nevertheless, he didn't say that, for he didn't want Narcissa to get the wrong impression and think he'd considered her to be lacking in that department, which wasn't true, for in reality, he'd felt that while their daughter was a loving and a caring mother, she was a bit too hard on their granddaughter, enforcing more rules - even for food and dessert- than Narcissa had ever established for them. It was understandable though, if he really would have thought more about it from his wife's perspective when comparing them that way, he'd have quickly come to the conclusion that she was probably more lenient after some tears being shed by their children because of the difficulties they'd faced from conceiving the babies to her giving birth to them. Of course she couldn't punish them by sending them to their room without feeling guilty and sad when they were Ariadnè's age when all she wanted was to protect them from everyone, including her own wrath. They'd had different experiences, different circumstances and mindsets that resulted in differences in how they approached- and took up on the role. Letting out a half-relieved sigh when she'd confirmed that he had done the right thing and it was for the best he hadn't revealed to their daughter that it was Narcissa he'd rekindled his relationship with. At least she didn't blame him for being coward and further aggravate his guilt, which made it easier for him to listen to her and later to answer her. Nodding as she went on sharing her thoughts, he kept on staring at her with a careworn expression frozen on his features. As much as her declaration of him being a good example on preserving his patience in front of their children flattered him, he didn't say anything about it, for his mind was taken up by the rest of her words and he fully focused on them, hoping she might give an insight- a solution that hadn't occurred to him just yet. "She knows something is amiss, for sure... *sighs* She let me know that she's convinced she's onto something with more than words... I could see it in her eyes- hear the suspicion in her voice... *pauses for a moment before continuing his recollection of the events* For now, she's only said that she wasn't comfortable with me hiding someone... in fact, she said she didn't like it" He concluded, only for Narcissa to somewhat protect their daughter by excusing her behaviour with the fact that she wanted to protect him and that she was merely living by their teachings about loyalty. He wasn't happy about the fact that Narcissa assumed the same as him, that Celeste would release her wrath and aim it at her- as if he wasn't guilty as well, as if he didn't have a saying in them getting back together. It wasn't fair and he wanted to somehow prevent that. "No" He disapproved of her in a heartbeat, not even giving her suggestion a thought. "We are in this together, Narcissa. It's our decision we've made together... *he stated boldly, holding her gaze intently without moving his hand from beneath her touch* I don't want you to face her on your own and take the-" blame, he wanted to say, but quickly bit his tongue instead, realising that their relationship wasn't something he wanted to feel bad or guilty about. It wasn't a mistake and definitely not something they ought to be punished for. "We'll do it together. I owe this to the both of you" Shifting his hand away, but only so he could take hers into his properly, intertwining their fingers while doing so, he finished, his thought, making it clear that his decision was final and was non-negotiable.

She paused, brushing her thumb lightly over the back of his hand, grounding him as much as herself. “She’s not angry because it’s me. She’s angry because she knows something’s being hidden. That fear will be more prominent when she does find out that it is me. I am certain that if it was someone she didn't know and you professed your happiness for a stranger, Celeste would let her fear subside - maybe not immediately but she does want your happiness as much as I do but with me, there are concerns...worries." Narcissa let out a soft sigh, one of disappointment in herself for that being there in her daughter. However, there was something in Narcissa's eyes—measured, unwavering—that suggested she’d already made up her mind about who would speak to Celeste.

“Lucius,” she said softly, almost tenderly, “I hear you. And I love you for saying it. For refusing to let me shoulder the weight of this alone. But that’s exactly why I need to be the one to speak to her.” She gave his hand a gentle squeeze—not to pull away, but to steady him, to prepare him for the shift in direction. “This isn’t about blame,” she continued, her voice calm and sure. “It’s not about taking the fall or protecting you. It’s about knowing her. I’m her mother. If I allow someone else to explain my return...," she trailed off and lowered her eyes, not sure if she knew how to best explain her feelings. She leaned forward slightly, still holding his hand, as her gaze sharpened with the clarity that only came from a lifetime of navigating delicate truths. “If you tell her, even with the best intentions, she’ll see it as a decision you didn't make with a clear head. That I swayed you. And you’ll become the buffer between her and me—again. That’s not what either of us needs. I broke her trust. I'm...I'm the one that left. I'm the one that has to regain what was lost between us, between the three of us. That’s a wound only I can speak to. And the only way to face her is to be honest." Before he could protest, she added with more gravity, “But I want you nearby. Not hidden, not quiet in the next room. Just… not at the centre of it. Not this time.” She shifted her hand slightly so their fingers laced again, more deliberate now. The thought of facing Celeste seemed terrifying to her but she also knew that it had to be this way. “Let me do this, Lucius. And after that… then we face her together.”

Bones of Contention

[teriri-sayes]

Reactions to The Light's Chapter 445

Brief summary: Cale to the rescue. And suffering.

==========

I was expecting an action chapter, but got angst and pain. 😭 CJS was indeed tortured, and his thoughts while in pain were sad.

If the worst pain you feel every time you get hurt is not the physical pain, but the psychological one. Then Choi Jung Soo might have opened his mouth. When he realized that all his relatives and family members were dead. The pain Choi Jung Soo felt was so deep and great that he still couldn't fathom it. But when he was really dying. 'I saved him.' No, not that he saved him, but whatever. You saved Kim Rok Soo then, didn't you? “…Fools.” You don't understand. That was the first time Choi Jung Soo tried to change fate. But would he kneel down after feeling that pain dozens of times? He couldn't kneel. It would be a betrayal of what he had done in the past. The least Choi Jung Soo could do was bow his head because of this pain. “…You're stubborn.” “Yes, I am, and I know it.”

CJS didn't regret dying to save KRS. 😭😭😭

Meanwhile, Sound of the Wind began exclaiming that the divine item she smelled must be destroyed because it was disgusting. She was referring to the divine item that took the form of a music box with a rotating eye sculpture that Hitelis had.

And this alarmed Cale, realizing that CJS was in danger from that divine item.

Cale studied his body, suppressing the urgency. If it's bad, if it's urgent. Because I will use all my powers, ancient power or the others. Lee Soo Hyuk and Choi Jung Soo. The Chaos God Cult. These bastards, I can't leave them alone. Unlike the coolness of the atmosphere around him, Cale's eyes flared up. Seeing this, Sui Khan's expression also slowly hardened. 'What happened?' Something must have happened that he didn't recognize. 'Kim Rok Soo- no, Cale, his eyes have gone crazy?' Kim Rok Soo, the newbie and weakest, the one who always rushed in without fail with eyes rolled back. Seeing those eyes, team leader Sui Khan unknowingly put his hand on his sword sheath. I have to do something.

Angry and anxious Cale. 😭 On the other hand, Sui's accident radar must be going wild when he saw Cale's crazed look.

The divine item's effect was like something out of a cosmic horror genre. A music box that played when the victim's blood was dropped in the closed eye centerpiece. As "music" played when the centerpiece opened its eye, the victim would feel the gazes of tens of thousands of eyes staring at them while feeling a maddening chaos.

Choi Jung Soo felt his mind becoming overwhelmed with chaos. He felt like something big was going to happen if this continued. He felt like he was about to reach an end worse than death. But, 'You're late, you punk!' He felt goosebumps all over his body. ♩♬♪. It wasn't the goosebumps he felt at the beginning of this music, the goosebumps from the tens of thousands of piercing eyes. A familiar feeling. This power was wilder than usual. Something vaguely similar, but different from the chaotic horror. This one was filled with an aura of domination. '…You punk!' Kim Rok Soo. Cale. A friend had come.

Cale finally arrived! And he's super angry! DA + Chaotic Terror skill when he has yet to enter the prison. But for CJS, he was relieved that his "friend" had come to save him. 🥰

Ending Remarks I did not expect the suffering today. 😭 Next chapter would be Cale probably beating up Hitelis for what she did to CJS. I guess Cale would run wild to the point of destroying the entire castle.

[psychicsolanum]

thunderbolts spoilers, and a bit critical

ugh I saw thunderbolts* a couple weeks ago now and i really liked the whole 3rd act but I wish they had gotten more time as a team!!! i feel like yelena and bob are the only characters that feel bonded by the end of the movie! we got a little bit from walker but what were ava and bucky even doing there in the final scene, is it just me that feels they got absolutely nothing to do in the movie? i love bucky but once again, it feels like he barely got to know anyone, not even yelena.

I'm not a hater, I really loved Bob as a character and as a catalyst/the cause of the plot! I hope to see this team again soon (and I'm sure we will), this is just one of the only instances where I wish this had been a show instead of a movie. With this many characters to introduce to each other, I feel like they did not do enough to make them feel like a family and then at the end it skips to them being the new avengers and we'll miss most of that development. Like the hug to save bob where ava, walker and bucky break free to save him, it doesn't feel personal to them like it does with yelena. it just feels like they had to to get him to stop to save the day and that's it.

this could very well just be a me thing, I think on rewatches it will hit better for me. I still really liked the movie and yelena is 100% one of the best characters the mcu has rn. just wondered if anyone else feels this way?

[beef-brisket]

Adam looked down. He was really hoping to find Lilith for Lucifer: But... you seem so sad.

G!Adam: Because he IS sad, dumbass.

Lucifer wanted to growl and curse at the Adam inside his head, but he didn't want to scare Adam: I'm... I'm okay, Adam. I promise.

Adam: You don't look okay, Lu. You haven't since this weird skip- do you miss Eden, to?

Lucifer felt himself tear up. He missed Eden more than ever. Especially since Adam came back the way he was.

G!Adam: A paradise that you ruined. You could have everything, but you destroyed it, because daddy said "no" about you falling for the first bitch.

G!Adam: You only see a second chance now he's forgotten the worst parts of you?! Of himself?! He doesn't even remember his kids, Lucifer! The bastards he was forced to have, he was forced to raise- but he still fucking loved?! They think he's DEAD! Because. Of. You!

The first man slowly tried to pull away, but he was firmly in Lucifer's arms. The Devil's claws were starting to dig into his back.

Adam: Uh- Lu?

G!Adam: Either way, your bullshit plan failed. You didn't save Eve. You forced him to bite HER apple, it didn't even fucking do anything! And she suffered for it! He suffered! Not that you care, right? You only came back for Eve... didn't you?

Lucifer: D-Didn't want to leave her with-.

G!Adam: Me...? Do you think i wanted her?! I felt EVERYTHING when she was made! I prayed to you- i CRIED for you! But you didn't come! My own sister didn't come! No one protected me! Don't you think i wanted to be more?! Why wasn't I worth your fucking time?! Your concern?! Your fucking apple?!

Lucifer: ...She said you weren't worth it...

G!Adam: ...And that. Right there. Is what makes you the fucking Devil... I gave you everything. Everything I had. She hurt me... and instead, you believed her. She... you have no idea what she's done to me... and here I am, wondering the streets of this cesspit, looking for your wife. Do you remember how you looked at me, the day i found you two? Like, I was the mistake and scum she said I was. You thought I was a monster... she did those things to ME! You know... even after all this time... I still don't know why you hated me so much... when all I did was love you.

In Your Head

Lucifer sighed as he held the guitar that he took from the battlefield. It was Adams guitar and aside from a few scratches it looked like it was in perfect condition.

Lucifer: I'm going to miss you old friend.

Though, was friend the right word? Adam was so much more than a friend to Lucifer.

Watching him get stabbed like that had been very hard.

Was it though?

Lucifer snapped his head up, eyes wide as he looked at the angel he thought to be long dead, his helmet gone and golden blood staining his robe.

Lucifer: A-Adam? What, how are you here!?

Adam smiled at him and it was too sweet for the Adam of today the one that he turned into. But not the Adam he knew in Eden.

Adam: Oh come on Luci, you're smarter than that. No one comes back from an angelic blade to the heart. Thanks for that by the way.

That nickname sliced through his core, he hadn't heard it in so long he almost forgot that's what Adam used to call him.

Lucifer: You're not real are you?

Adam: Bingo baby! Awww, it's actually sweet. You miss me so much that I actually take up space in that head of yours.

Lucifer: Why are you so..... Nice? But look like that?

Adam shrugged and moved to sit down beside him: Probably because you don't really remember what I looked like in Eden, but more how I acted. So you just kinda...... Married the past with the present. I don't know boo, it's your mind.

Lucifer felt Adam touch his hair as if to tuck it behind his ear, but since he wasn't real the hand just went right through him.

Lucifer: I don't get it, you weren't like this in Eden.

Adam: Maybe I'm a version you've always wanted.

That made sense in a way.

Lucifer: Why would I want a polite slightly flirty version of you?

Adam smiled gently and leaned in: Come on Luci, you know why. Stop lying to yourself.~

His breath hitched in his throat, sure he had always thought about what could have been between them but...... It was always just a fantasy.

Adam: A fantasy you could have made real.~

Lucifer: You didn't want me.

Adam: How would you know? You never asked or tried. You could have had me all to yourself.

Lucifer: I could have?

Adam: Yeah. But now you never will.

@fanofstuff01 @beef-brisket