#it's getting on 2 am and i just went to bed

[writerdownbookworder]

The princess smiled at him happily from across the battlefield as she rode away. 

Edmund smiled back and waved. The minute she was out of sight, his hand dropped and he ran it through his hair nervously as he returned to work, carting away the bodies of the enemy and friends alike. It was hard, emotional work, and thankfully, it took his mind off of the explanation he would have to give his family in a few short hours.

Finally, he was able to go home. As soon as Edmund walked in the door, he was bombarded with hugs from all six of his little siblings. They were all between the ages of 2 and 10, and the smaller ones tried climbing him like monkeys. Edmund laughed as he hugged them all, then his parents and grandparents who all lived with them in the four bedroom house. 

After Edmund finally got the little ones calmed down and regaled them with some of the tamer stories he had, he looked at his mother. 

Reading his mind, she started corralling the kids. “Come on, everyone,” she called. “Bedtime!” She ignored the groans and moans that came as she whisked them into their bedroom.

Edmund shifted awkwardly in his chair as he waited for her to come back. When she did, taking a seat beside his father, Edmund took a deep breath.

“I have some news to share,” he began. “I am…engaged.”

His grandmother hooted with joy. “Ha! Finally!”

“Really, Mabel,” Edmund’s mother said reproachfully. “Let the boy speak.”

His father turned to him. “Do we know the girl?”

Edmund wouldn’t meet any of their eyes as he mumbled, “Sort of.”

His grandfather crossed his arms. “It’s not that Katrina, is it? You do know she’s a bit strange. I don’t think you should marry her. Can you call it off?”

Edmund sighed and rubbed his forehead. “It’s not Katrina. And that’s not very nice, Grandfather.”

“Hmph!” his grandfather pouted. “Well, then, who is it?”

“Itstheoldestprincessprincessisolde!” Edmund said, all in a rush.

His grandmother put a hand to her ear. “Eh?”

Edmund took a deep breath. “It’s Princess Isolde.”

“What?!” came a shriek from behind them. Everyone whipped around, only to find seven-year-old Avalie peeking around the corner and eavesdropping. 

She started bouncing on her toes with excitement. “You’re gonna marry Princess Isolde?! She’s my favorite!”

Edmund’s mother put her hands on her hips. “Young lady, you are not supposed to be up. You weren’t supposed to hear that.”

Edmund sighed. “She might as well stay now.”

Avalie ran over and jumped on his lap. “You’re my favorite! How did it happen?!” she asked eagerly.

He couldn’t help grinning at her. “Well, last year, remember when I was gone for so long? I was one of her personal guards. A few days ago, we ended up near each other again, out on the battlefield. I thought…” he let his voice trail off, remembering he was talking to a seven year old. The adults in the room knew what he meant, so he continued his story. “I knew I loved her, and I was pretty sure she loved me too. We grew close last year. I asked her to marry me, and she said yes. And…here we are.”

“Are you gonna go live in the palace?!” Avalie shrieked, ignoring when five adults shushed her. “That’s so exciting!”

Edmund laughed. “Yes, I suppose it is. I believe she said she would send word in a few days. I’m…not too sure what to do next. We did just get out of a war.”

Avalie clutched him tightly. “Can I come with you?” 

He laughed again. “Fine by me! You’ll have to ask Isolde though.”

Avalie’s eyes went wide.

She, Avalie, was going to meet a princess! And not just any princess. Her very favorite one!

And Princess Isolde was going to marry her own brother!

That would make them sisters!!!

The rest of the adults were not as excited as Avalie, to say the least. The minute she was shooed off to bed for a second time, the questions resumed.

“How?”

“Why would you do such a thing?”

“What in the world possessed you?”

“Her?”

“She’s the heir to the throne! What does that make you?”

“Why would she even say yes?”

Edmund glared at his grandmother, who had asked that particular question. “Gee, thanks.”

She shrugged. “Don’t mention it.”

The soldier had proposed to the princess out of a mix of getting it out now and the belief he wouldn't make it. Now that the two are alive after the final battle, she intends to make good on what he promised and he's now wondering on how to explain it to his family.

[keikikait]

ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜ (ʀᴀꜰᴇ ᴄᴀᴍᴇʀᴏɴ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ)

based on a request by @milesdrift

pairing: rafe cameron x kook!f!reader, (not au, both are early to mid 20s)

word count: 10.5k

summary: you reconnect with an old friend while seeking quiet refuge from the midsummers party

warnings: longtime friends to lovers, kook!reader & kook!rafe, emotional rafe comes out for like 2 seconds, drunk rafe, light-medium angst, soft rafe, fluff?, talk of anxiety, topper is a bitch, blackmail is mentioned but it's not actually done, not proofread

a note: ik its long i don't wanna talk about it

please reblog and like, it means a lot! let me know what you think!

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

Although you and Rafe had grown up together, you weren’t the best of friends anymore.

Your father and Rafe’s father, Ward, were business partners. Your father handled the financial side of everything, while Ward was the face of it all. You had spent countless dinners at his house, spent more summer nights than you can remember in his backyard, helping your dad grill. You were a fellow Kook, and while your house wasn’t as extravagant as Tannyhill, you still grew up in Figure 8 with the rest of them. 

You and Rafe were close at one point, spending some of your elementary years closer than ever before. You spent every waking second together, but everything changed when you both went to middle school; he started getting angrier, louder, and soon just completely ditched you for his new friends Topper and Kelce. You spent so much time watching him from the sidelines, and you spent a few years crushing on him, admiring him from afar and just wondering what it would be like to be his. It wasn’t until you went to Kildare Academy alongside him, Topper, and Kelce, that you realised he would never feel the same way. After all, you weren’t exactly a close friend of his anymore.

At least, you thought you weren’t. It wasn’t long after hearing of Ward’s death that Rafe was on your doorstep, drunk out of his mind and soaked to the bone from the rain. It was late, almost 11 PM, and you had let him in, giving him a towel and some of your older brother’s old clothes to borrow for the night. He wouldn’t mind anyway, he was engaged and living in Raleigh with his fiancée, doing something in IT and tech. Rafe eagerly accepted the clothes, although you had to help him change, trying your hardest to keep your eyes and hands from wandering while you helped him out of his old wet clothes.

The dryer hums from down the hall as it runs, tossing his clothes around. Rafe lies on your bed, his legs hanging off the end, his feet flat on the ground. You sit next to him, water bottle in hand, watching him. He has his arm thrown over his eyes, blocking out the soft light of your bedside table lamp.

You swallow, moving a little closer to him. “You okay?”

“Mm.” He grunts in response, still keeping his eyes covered. He didn’t smell the best, the smell of weed and hard liquor practically wafted off of his soaked form. The alcohol, though, seemed to be the main thing that took its toll on him. He was a mess of a man as it was, but when he drowned himself in alcohol like this, you weren’t even sure that it was Rafe in the room with you anymore.

“I heard what happened, I um…” You hesitate, not knowing what to say. “I’m sorry, Rafe.”

“Don’t,” He says, raising his arm from his face just enough to glare at you through the crack in his arm. “Don’t you dare pity me.”

“I’m not pitying you,” You say. “I really am sorry, Rafe.”

“Yeah, you seem real sorry,” He huffs, dropping his arm back in place, blocking out the light again. “Sitting there, staring at me with your big doe eyes.”

Your face gets warm, and you bite back a smile. “I let you in, didn’t I? I could’ve kicked you to the curb. But I didn’t.”

“Mm, you’re such a saint, you know that?” He grumbles, although this time he did let out a bit of a chuckle. He drops his hand down onto his chest, resting it just above his heart as he tilts his head towards you.

You lay down next to him, your shoulders touching, your legs dangling next to his. Your voice is soft when you speak, “Do you wanna talk about it?”

He turns his head towards you, his body following suit, rolling to his side, so his whole body faced you now. He stays quiet for a moment, just looking at you, before shaking his head and letting out a sigh. “What is there to talk about?” He grumbles again. “He got shot and fell off that stupid fucking cliff. Now there’s a big, father-shaped hole in my life now. End of story.”

“Did he ever even fill that hole?” You ask quietly. You immediately regret your words, but it seems like Rafe doesn’t even care.

“I… no. No, not really,” He admits, swallowing around a knot in his throat. “But it’s a hole I was counting on… one day filling. And now there’s no chance for that.” He rolls onto his back again and covers his face with his hands. After a few seconds, you hear his breathing get heavier as his shoulders shake up and down.

He’s crying.

You roll over to face him, wrapping one arm across his chest and over his shoulder. “No, hey come on, it’s okay.”

Rafe doesn’t fight your hold, and he shifts onto his side in front of you, facing you as you pull him into your embrace. He buries his face into your shoulder, his hands grabbing at your sides, holding onto you tightly as he begins to sob.

You rub his back with one hand, the other cupping the back of his head. “It’s okay, Rafe. It’ll be okay.”

His whole body shakes against yours as he cries, his fingers grabbing and clinging tightly onto your sides, like you were the only thing keeping him together. Rafe’s nose presses into the crook of your neck, his warm, shaky breaths ghosting against your skin as he cries against your shoulder. His voice is so soft you almost didn’t hear him. “I want my dad.”

Your heart shatters, and you pull him closer, fighting back tears of your own. “I know, Rafe. I know. I’m sorry.”

His arms wrap around your back, enveloping you in his arms, and his legs hook around one of yours, pulling you in closer to him, as if he’s hoping that if he holds you tightly enough he would be able to hold himself together. For a few long moments, he falls silent, the only sound being the faintest hitch in his breathing every couple of moments. Eventually, Rafe speaks again, his voice muffled against your neck. “I really messed up.”

“No, you didn’t.” You say, tightening your grip on him. 

“Yes, I did,” He whispers, nuzzling himself further against you. You can feel one of his hands trail up your back, his fingers tangling into your hair. It almost seems like he’s trying to melt himself into you. “Everything I’ve ever done… everything I’ve ever said… I did so many things just to try and-and make him proud of me. Everything I did was never enough to make him see me the way I wanted him to. But I still kept pushing, and pushing, and pushing. For what? For nothing. For absolutely nothing,” He takes a deep, shaky breath. “I wanna know it’s not my fault. I didn’t mean it.”

Your eyes well with tears, and you quickly wipe them away. “It’s not your fault, Rafe. You didn’t pull the trigger. You didn’t push him. It’s not your fault.”

His fingers tighten in your hair as his lips drag against your neck, leaving a damp trail across your skin. “I could’ve been a better-a better son,” He whispers against your neck. “I-I could’ve tried harder, I could’ve been better. I-” He chokes back another wave of tears, his whole body trembling in your grip. “He was never proud of me.”

“You don’t know that,” You whisper. “He always talked to my dad about you. My dad said you were all Ward talked about. Not Sarah or Wheezie. You.”

“That doesn’t mean he was proud of me.” Rafe mumbles. His hand that has been gripping your side released its hold on your shirt, his fingertips trailing up your side as he shifts ever so slightly in front of you. His fingers brush against the edge of your shirt, slipping under the baggy fabric and settling against your bare skin. His palm presses flat against your side, holding you, fingers spreading out over your skin.

“You don’t know that he wasn’t.” You say.

He slowly lifts his face from your neck, his fingers gliding along the curve of your side as he pulls away. Rafe swallows hard, his eyes fixed on you. He looks like a mess; his eyes red and puffy from crying, his face red and patchy from wiping his tears away. His eyes flicker down to your throat, and he pauses for a moment, his lips slightly parted as he studies your skin. When he finally speaks again, his voice is nothing more than a hoarse whisper. “I feel sick.”

“Do you need to vomit?” You ask.

“I don’t know.” He croaks, his hand still lingering against your side, his fingers gently brushing back and forth across your skin. Something in his eyes seems a bit… off. Normally, he was loud, and cocky, a bit obnoxious at times, but still somehow charming. Right now, though, he seemed… vulnerable. Broken down. He was exposed in ways that you didn’t even know he could be. You hadn’t ever realised how blue his eyes were before now.

“Come on, honey,” The nickname slips out without much thought as you help him sit up. “Let’s go to the bathroom.”

He doesn’t have it in him to protest your help, and he lets you ease him up and guide him to his feet. He kept one hand around your torso, his other wrapping around your shoulder as he lets you guide him towards your bathroom, practically stumbling behind you as he tried to walk. His grip on you stayed steady, fingers pressing into your side and digging into your skin.

You push open the door to the en-suite bathroom, helping Rafe kneel down by the toilet. “If you need to vomit, just do it. Don’t hold it in, okay?”

He swallows, still stumbling slightly as he knelt there in front of the toilet. “Okay.” He croaks. A few moments pass, and then suddenly Rafe’s whole body tenses up, and he lurches forward at the waist, leaning over the toilet. He gags, the first few being dry gags and coughs, before, after another heave, Rafe lets loose the rest of his stomach contents into the toilet, throwing up everything in his stomach.

You look away, rubbing his back. “There you go. Better out than in.”

He stays hunched over the toilet bowl for several long minutes, coughing and dry heaving. It finally passed, but he still knelt there, heaving and gagging. “I-“ He started hoarsely, a trail of spit dripping out of the corner of his mouth, his eyes still red and puffy. His shoulders shook once, and you could’ve sworn it was another heave, but when he finally spoke again you nearly choked at the sound of how wrecked his voice was. “I need a drink…”

You let out a small chuckle, grabbing some toilet paper and wiping his mouth. “You’re drinking water only.”

He lets you wipe his mouth, and he watches you through tired, bleary eyes. “I-“ He tries to protest, before his face turns a little green again. He grumbles, then sighs, mumbling against your touch. “No booze?”

“No booze.” You say.

“Okay, okay, fine.” He mumbles, sighing again as his shoulders drop in defeat. “No booze, then. Just… I need something. I need to- I need to-” He pauses halfway through his sentence, swallowing hard as he suddenly leans forward at the waist again, hovering over the toilet. He gags again, a thin trail of spit connecting his lip to the rim of the bowl, before he leans back again, gasping and panting.

You look away, quickly rushing back to your bed to grab the water bottle. You head back into the bathroom, rubbing his back as he pukes again. “There we go.”

He heaves and coughs for several more moments before finally collapsing back against your touch, sagging into your hand on his back. His head falls forward, his face against his shoulder, forehead pressed against his arm as it rests against his knee. He looks and sounds like a wreck, his whole body trembling in front of you. He’s a mess. A complete, utter, heartbreaking mess. 

His voice comes up, hoarse and ragged. “You… you called me honey.”

“I did.” You say, wiping his mouth again. You uncap the water and pour some into his mouth. 

He doesn’t argue, his mouth parting readily when you hold the bottle to his lips. He closes his eyes as a few mouthfuls of cool water washes away the taste of vomit, and a soft groan escapes his throat when you pull the water away. When his eyes finally open again, his gaze shifts back to you, and that same look is still in his eyes. The same lost, brokenness that made your chest ache for him.

You hand him the bottle. “Do you wanna stay here tonight?”

Rafe stares down at the bottle, his hand coming up to wrap shakily around it. His fingers linger against yours a moment longer than needed, touching your fingertips for a brief second before withdrawing, his fingers sliding down the cold plastic of the water bottle. After a long moment of silence, he finally speaks, his voice hoarse and raw from the vomiting. “… Yes. Please.” He whispers.

“Come on,” You say softly, helping him to his feet. “There’s a guest room down the hall.”

He lets you pull him to his feet, stumbling to his feet without much resistance. He was clearly exhausted and worn out from vomiting, but even so, when you tried to remove your hold from him, he protested. His fingers wrapped around your wrists loosely, his gaze fixed on you, as if he was practically begging you not to let him go. “No,” He whines. “I… I need to be with you. I can’t be alone right now.”

“Okay,” You say softly, slipping your hands into his. “You can stay with me.”

He lets out a soft sigh, the tension leaving his shoulders as your fingers slide into his. His fingers intertwine with yours, and his thumb brushes against the back of your hand. Although he seemed like he wanted to say something to you - his lips parted, and his gaze dropped to watch your fingers, he seems to change his mind at the last second, and simply squeezes on your hand. After a beat, he gives your hand a tug, gently pulling you towards your bed.

You climb in next to him, already in your pyjamas from earlier in the night. You give him an extra pillow, letting him get comfortable. He lets out a sigh, pulling his knees up towards his chest a bit as he turns his head to face you. One arm slips between the pillow and his head, propping it up slightly, while the other finds its way to your side, resting there on the other side of your body. “Rafe?” You ask, your voice quiet.

“Yeah?”

“Why'd you come here?” You ask. “I'm not, like, upset, but... we aren't very close anymore, you know?”

To answer that question, Rafe reaches his hand that’s on your side up a bit, his fingers trailing up your shirt and settling on your stomach, his palm laying flat against the soft skin of your stomach. His fingers trace soft lines back and forth against your abdomen absently, like he was trying to soothe himself just by touching you. “Because I need someone right now,” He replies after a long moment of silence. “And… you’re the only one that I’ve never been scared to tell I was hurting. Top and Kel… they wouldn’t understand. They wouldn’t comfort me, you know?”

“Yeah, I know,” You say softly. “I’m glad you came back to me.”

“Thanks for letting me in.” He mumbles in response, his fingers still tracing lines over your stomach. It was something that he must’ve unconsciously started to do once he laid his hand against you, but it still sent shivers down your spine when you felt his gentle touch on your skin. 

You pull him into a hug, your voice still soft. “Get some sleep, Rafe.”

Rafe doesn’t protest this time as you tug him into a hug. His arm tightens around your back, and he squeezes a bit in your embrace, drawing himself in a bit closer. He lets out a soft sigh, his face pressing into your neck, and his body finally slumps against you. “Goodnight.” He mumbles against your skin.

“Goodnight.” You whisper.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝

You don’t remember the last time you journaled. 

The morning after, Rafe left in a rush, leaving only a pile of your brother’s clothes in his wake. You spent a little too long staring at the ceiling, the feelings you felt for him so long ago coming back to rear its ugly head. You flipped over, pulling the drawer open and digging around in your bedside table, pulling out the leather-bound journal and a ballpoint pen.

You let your stream of consciousness out, filling out pages and pages about your night with Rafe and your conflicted feelings. You don’t date the entry, quickly shoving it back into your bedside table for another day. You spend the rest of your day stuck in limbo, wondering, thinking about your next interaction with Rafe. What would he say? Would he even acknowledge you? Did Topper and Kelce know about your night together?

You didn’t want this to control you as it used to; spending hours awake at night, wanting and praying that Rafe would see you in the same way you saw him. Praying that Rafe liked you, not whatever Kook girl caught his eye that night. You didn’t want to pine for him anymore, wandering behind him through the desert, hoping he’ll lead you to an oasis. You always wanted him when you were finally fine. You kept journaling, though, filling pages upon pages with your thoughts, whether Rafe was even in them or not. You decided to push him aside, to only speak to him if he spoke to you first. Out of sight, out of mind. And it worked. You didn’t think about him for weeks, even when you would see him at the corner store or at the gas station. He didn’t approach you, so you didn’t approach him.

You had managed to move on again.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

It was taunting you on your calendar. The Midsummers Party.

You hated it every year. It was one of the town events that gave you the most anxiety. You hated the crowds, the loud music, and the aura that surrounded you; your fellow Kooks thinking that they were better than the people on the south side of Kildare just because their mommy and daddy had more money. You were supposed to hate the Pogues, it was supposed to be ingrained in your DNA, but you didn’t. Why would you just hate someone purely because they didn’t have as much money as you? You were grateful for your life, grateful for the life that your father and mother built for you and your brother. You didn’t want to take it for granted like some of your fellow Kooks did.

Your dress was simple; a flowy, pink, low cut linen midi dress with thin straps, a $35 steal you got from a thrift store on the mainland. You hunted through your closet for your old sandals, putting them on before checking your outfit in the mirror again. You looked cute, which was the most important part. You would spend the entire time sitting in the corner alone anyway, trying to get yourself to relax. You grab your bag and your keys off of your bed, and you’re a few steps out the door when you get a nagging feeling. You sigh, looking back into your bedroom, fingers tapping on the door frame as you start to contemplate.

The journal and the pen join the belongings in your bag before you leave, shutting and locking the door behind you.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝

The Island Club is already lively when you arrive, giving your key to one of the valets. You slip him a large tip before heading inside the country club. The country club is abuzz as you take a step inside, music thumping throughout the house as you pass through the massive front room and make your way towards the outdoor seating. Pogues and Kooks alike mill about, chatting amongst themselves and laughing heartily as they make their way indoors and out. The whole club smells like food, and smoke wafts through the air from the various barbecues that are going on throughout the outdoor patio area.

You were already overwhelmed. The chatter is nearly deafening in your ears, the various sounds of people talking and music blaring from speakers filling your head. You feel like you can’t breathe. You don’t want to be here, stuck in this country club full of people. Everyone here is loud and drunk and happy. 

And you’re drowning in the sea of it all.

Across the country club, leaning against the bar, is Rafe. Midsummers was always fun for him. Loud music, endless drinks and even more pretty Kooks, all there to celebrate one of the most exclusive events on the island. As the sun set, the dance floor was filled with couples, dancing against one another and getting drunk on endless bottles of rum. He stood around a group of his friends, drinking and talking with a smile on his face. His gaze was always drifting out to the sea of Kooks and Pogues before him, but it lingered every so often when a pretty girl passed.

The bar was packed with people, all clamouring and fighting to try and get a drink before the entire bar was empty and the Pogues would end up stuck drinking piss beer from kegs out on the patio. You push your way through the crowd to the bar, squeezing yourself up next to a couple other people and waiting your turn to actually get the attention of one of the bartenders. You fumble with your wallet and get your ID out, managing to order a tequila sunrise; your go-to drink for a fancy, Kook heavy event, something sweet to mask the hard liquor inside but still strong enough to distract you from your impeding thoughts. You grip the edge of the bar tightly, closing your eyes as you take one more deep breath, trying to block out the noisy chaos around you. Just a few drinks and then you can escape to the beach and hope no one will find you.

You look around and meet Rafe’s gaze from the other side of the bar. He’s been watching you since the moment you entered the country club. He flashes you a small smirk, his eyes lingering on you as people bustle and push around you, filling up the bar and blocking him out from you. He watches you for another moment, his body still slouched against the bar, talking to the people around him, before he finally pushes himself up, and starts to weave through the crowd towards you instead.

You grab your drink, handing the bartender a cash tip before turning around, meeting Rafe face to face. “Uh, hey.”

“Hey,” He replies with a charming smile, taking a step closer to you, standing just a bit closer than was strictly necessary. “Fancy seeing you here,” He muses, raising his beer to his lips and taking a sip. “Thought you hated Midsummers.”

“I do, but uh…” You sigh. “My parents want me to be here, so…”

“Right,” Rafe sighs softly, taking another drink of his beer. His eyes flick up and down your form as he does, the corner of his lips twisting up in a slight smirk. “Well, I’m glad I get the privilege of seeing you all dressed up, then.”

You feel your face grow warm. “Yeah, I guess.”

He chuckles at how awkward you are, his gaze lingering on your face for a moment before flicking back down to your body. “You look nice, by the way.” He compliments. It was genuine enough, his gaze lingering over your curves and the low neckline of your dress, before they flick back up to your face.

“Thanks,” You say. “You do too.”

That little compliment sends a jolt through Rafe's chest, and he tries to keep his face as neutral as possible so that you don’t see. He doesn’t get compliments like that often - not genuine ones, anyway. He smiles to himself, his face softening a bit before he catches himself. “Yeah, well, I gotta look good, you know?” He replies, giving you a wink before taking another swig of his beer.

“Yeah, uh…” You look behind him and immediately make eye contact with Topper, who doesn’t advert his eyes. You look away, stirring your drink with the straw. “Well, I won’t keep you. Have fun, alright?” You walk away before Rafe can respond, pushing through the crowd to find a seat.

He lets out a sigh, watching you disappear into the crowd, before pushing himself away from the bar, and returning to the group he was with. Topper and Kelce both look his direction as he comes up to them.

“What was that about?” Kelce asks, raising a brow. 

Rafe shrugs, bringing the beer bottle to his lips. “I’ll catch up with her later.”

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝

You try to enjoy Midsummers. You really do.

You drink your tequila sunrise rather quickly, hoping the warmth of the alcohol with calm your nerves, but it does the opposite. It’s overwhelming - the lights, the music, the people. Every once in a while a hand will grab your ass, or brush against your side as it reaches past you, and it’s all slowly becoming suffocating. Your heart pounding in your ears drowns out the shitty house music, and you feel nauseous as you make your way through the crowd, trying to find the exit to the patio. 

Your escape into the patio doesn’t seem to do much, though. The patio is just as full as the house, people sitting in the outdoor seating to eat and talk while others dance. A bonfire burns in the corner, and a few small groups stand about it, talking and drinking and laughing. You take a deep breath, feeling the cool sea air on your skin as you make your way through the patio, heading towards the beach entrance. You had to get away, your skin already starting to itch with discomfort.

You finally make it to the beach entrance, the sounds of the party in the country club fading slightly as you take in the sound of the ocean instead. It’s cooler here than inside the club, but somehow even the beach is still packed. Couples sit together against the dunes, talking quietly in hushed whispers, and the air is thick with the smell of weed as people pass joints between one another.

You can feel yourself getting annoyed, getting angry. You just wanted some goddamn peace and quiet, away from the loud ass Pogues and the other Kooks with their leering gazes. You walk through the sand, sandals in hand, trying to find an empty spot. It takes a few moments of walking across the beach to finally find an empty spot, surrounded by a cliffside, though it’s not much of one. You’re far enough from the party that the light from the bonfire on the patio doesn’t reach you, and the music and the laughter is faint from far away. Still, you’re just close enough to the country club that you can hear the thumping bass.

You’re surrounded on all sides by couples that have gathered on the beach, too. You can hear their whispers and laughter, quiet intimate moments in the setting sun, and it just seems to make you angrier. You take a deep breath, keeping your eyes on the sun as it settles into the horizon, watching the colours change.

The sun slips behind the horizon, the sky slowly fading from purple and orange to the black of night, lit up only by pale stars and a crescent moon. The air grows colder as night creeps in, a soft breeze sweeping off the ocean, carrying the sound of the waves hitting into a soft roar in your ears. It’s still too loud. The voices of the couples on the beach next to you and the music from the club don’t allow any kind of peace, no quiet moments for you to just breathe.

You set your bag down beside you, digging through it to pull out your journal and your pen. You start to write another entry, undated, just like the rest of them. It’s just pages of your thoughts, your emotions, your feelings, words pouring out of you in the dim light of the setting sun. It’s just your stream of consciousness, all the things you’re feeling and thinking. It feels good, like a release to just unload it all onto the page, and every word that comes off of your mind and into the journal just serves to relieve the growing tension in you. Your shoulders start to droop, your mind too focused on writing and the sound of the crashing waves to pay attention to the couples around you.

The world fades away, and it’s just you, the crashing of the waves, and your pen on the page. Your mind empties and it’s finally so, so quiet, the weight off of your shoulders almost lifting you up entirely. You’re so focused, so deep into your writing, finally having the peace and quiet you were wanting--

The pen nearly flies out of your hand when you jump, feeling someone tap on your shoulder. You quickly shut the journal, your head spinning around. “Jesus, dude! You scared the shit out of me!”

And there’s Rafe, standing there behind you, a grin on his face as he watches you quickly clutch your journal to your chest. He puts out a placating hand, giving you an almost innocent look. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to ruin the moment.” 

You sigh, your shoulders tense again. “It’s fine.”

His face falls slightly, no longer grinning, as he notices just how tense you are. He glances around for a moment, taking in the couples on the beach around you all curled up to one another. He swallows, looking back to you. “You alright?”

“Fine, just…” You sigh again. “Overwhelmed, I guess. I get bad anxiety at things like this. I can normally handle it, but…”

He watches you for a second, studying your face, the way you hold the journal to your chest, the way your shoulders are still tense. The way you’re clearly still on edge. He slowly sits down next to you, the sand shifting under him. He stretches out his legs in front of him, dropping his hands into the sand, and his knee pressed against yours. You slip your journal and pen back into your bag.

He stays quiet, just sitting with you, listening to the waves and the sounds of the couples next to you. He finally speaks after another moment, his voice quiet. “Why’d you come if it makes you so anxious?”

“My parents,” You say. “They expect me to come. I have to, for like appearances and stuff. The ladies at my mom’s book club like to gossip, you know?”

He lets out a quiet snort, nodding. “Yeah, I get the whole appearances thing. This whole party is basically just an excuse for the Kooks to flaunt their money and kiss ass.”

You chuckle, nodding. “Yeah. Exactly.”

He smiles a bit to himself as you laugh quietly, but his gaze still watches you for a moment longer before he turns to look forward, watching the waves as they crash into one another and spill onto the beach. He’s quieter than usual tonight. Usually he’d make some kind of smart ass comment to go with his answer, but tonight he seems almost pensive.

You sigh, leaning your head against the side of his bicep. “It’s just so loud in there and people kept touching me. I don’t know how you do it.”

Rafe’s shoulders tense at your touch, but he doesn’t pull away from you, he just lets you lean against him for a long moment. He swallows a little bit, his hand twitching in the sand in-between you too, before he finally speaks again. “You get used to it, after a while.”

You hum in response. “Is it cool that I’m doing this?”

“Yeah,” He replies quickly, his shoulders finally relaxing as he takes in a deep breath. It’s silent for another moment, but the way his muscles relax under your touch makes it clear that he appreciated it. “Yeah, it’s fine. You can do whatever you want.”

“Thanks, Rafey.” You mumble, the old nickname tumbling out. “I’m feeling better already.”

Rafe stiffens at that nickname, his breath catching in his throat just for a second. He was surprised to hear it again - it had been years since he’d last heard you call him that. He swallows, forcing himself to stay calm as the nickname stirs a little bit of that old feeling in his chest. “Yeah, you look a little better too. Less green.”

You snort. “Thanks.”

He gives you a slight nudge with his elbow, smirking a bit at your snort, but his smirk fades almost immediately, his face falling back into a more thoughtful look. He stays silent another moment, still listening to the waves and the couples around you, but his thoughts seem to be a million miles away. He finally speaks again, voice quiet. “How often do you get anxious? At events like this, I mean.”

“I’m anxious from the second I arrive until the second I leave,” You say. “I’m not built for crowded events. I don’t like when people stare at me.”

He keeps his gaze on the ocean, but his shoulders sink a bit at hearing that. He never knew that, to be honest - he always assumed you were built for these kinds of parties, more at peace with crowds since you were born into it. The fact that you’re just as anxious as he used to be makes his chest ache a bit, and his gaze flicks over to you. “How’re you feeling now, though?”

“Better, now that you’re here.” You say, wrapping your arms around his bicep, leaning against him.

His breath catches again, his stomach jumping when you wrap your arms around his arm, and his hand twitches a bit, like he thought about wrapping it around you for a moment before he stopped himself. He swallows, but he still can’t fight the slight flush that rises up his neck as he stares forward, a small smile twisting at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah? Why, do I just have a calming aura?”

“It’s the familiarity, I guess,” You say. “I feel safe around you.”

Rafe’s shoulders relax a bit more at that answer, his face softening slightly, and his smile grows the slightest bit. He can feel his own heartbeat in his chest still, but he lets out a breath, trying to keep his cool. “Good, that’s uh… I mean,” He swallows, trying to think of what the right thing to say is, before settling for the truth. “I want you to feel safe around me.”

“Good.” You say. You look up at him, your cheek pressed against his shoulder. His gaze flicks back down to you again, and he looks down at you as you stare up at him, before he slowly raises a hand, lightly brushing a strand of hair out of your face. He studies you a moment, his gaze lingering on your face, taking in how calm you look now as you leaned against his side. There was something about you that Rafe was drawn to, and he couldn’t explain why. All he knew was that he loved the way you felt against him. For a split second, his gaze flicks down to your lips, the smallest moment where he’s tempted to lean down and kiss you.

He turns back to face the horizon, sneaking his arm out of your grasp and wrapping it around your shoulders, pulling you against him. You comply happily, wrapping your arms around his waist. He lets out a quiet sigh as you wrap your arms around his waist, his face flushing more as you get closer to him. He rests his cheek against the top of your head, looking forward towards the sea. It was so peaceful - the waves, the cool breeze, the feeling of your body against his. It was just perfect.

He breaks the silence. “You doin’ anything after this?”

“No,” You say, rubbing some of the material of his shirt between your thumb and pointer finger. “Why?”

“Just wondering,” Rafe says, his hand moving up to absently play with the hair at the back of your neck. It sends shivers down your spine, and he smirks slightly, pulling you closer. “Havin’ an after party if you wanna come. Top and Kel already left to get it started.”

“Who’s gonna be there?” You ask.

“The boys,” He says with a slight shrug, running a finger along the side of your neck, tracing it along your skin. “Some people from the club too. But I want you there, if you think you'll be okay.” He adds as an afterthought, his hand settling gently against the side of your neck, his thumb ghosting back and forth against your skin.

“Promise to take care of me?” You ask, your tone joking. 

Rafe chuckles a bit, smiling lightly as you joke. He nods, running his thumb in small, comforting circles against your skin. “I'll look after you. I won't let you out of my sight.”

“Then I’ll do it,” You say. “Should be fine. I’m feeling pretty good right now.”

He smiles, leaning his head down and pressing a whispery kiss to the top of your head. “Good, cause I want you there. Everyone else sucks.” His thumb brushes along your neck one more time before he draws his hand back, returning it to rest on top of one of your arms around his waist. His gaze flicks from the ocean back to you, studying your face again as you leaned against him. “Can I tell you somethin’?”

You nod, looking back over the horizon. Rafe takes a deep breath, his hand absently rubbing up and down your back as he gathers his words, trying to decide how to say this without ruining everything. He was always awkward when it came to things like this, and having a beautiful girl in his arms made it even more difficult to say. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” You ask.

His eyes linger on yours for another moment before he speaks again. “For leaving you that morning without saying goodbye. I was… I was just scared. Scared after losing Ward. I just had to go home.”

You smile softly, squeezing him. “It’s okay, Rafe. I understand. You were going through a lot.”

His shoulders relax as you squeeze him, a soft breath escaping him when you say you understand, and a soft smile appears on his face. He pulls you more snugly against him, his face flushed from your squeeze, and he presses another soft kiss to your head, letting out another one of those soft breaths. “Good, I’m glad you get that. Um… you know I care about you, right? Like, a lot. That’s… I mean, that’s not gonna change. I…” He trails off for a second, hesitating before finally continuing. “You mean a lot to me.”

“I care about you too, Rafey.” You whisper, looking back up at him.

His eyes soften, his stomach jumping. His heartbeat is still quick in his chest - he can still feel it through his ribs. He swallows quietly, a hand slipping up the side of your neck, fingers grazing up until they’re under your chin. He slowly raises your chin up, staring down into your eyes. “I’m glad,” You smile softly, leaning against his shoulder. His gaze lingers on your face for another moment, studying your sweet look a moment longer before he leans down, leaning his forehead against yours. The hand on your neck stays in place a moment, his thumb brushing your jaw, before sliding down your neck again. “You ready to get outta here?”

You nod. “Yeah. Ready when you are.”

He smiles softly, his thumb brushing over your neck one final time, before he slowly pulls away. He pushes himself up, groaning a bit as he straightens, his back popping. He reaches down and offers you a hand. “C’mon, beautiful.” 

Your face grows warm again as you take his hand, putting your bag over your shoulder. He pulls you up with ease, a hand wrapping around your waist to help steady you once you’re on your feet again. He lets out a soft sigh, looking at your face again, before starting to walk with his hand resting on your lower back, guiding you up the beach.

You make your way to the country club. You hang around outside, waiting for Rafe to say his goodbyes, as you wipe your sandy feet off on the grass, slipping your sandals back on. He doesn’t take long inside, giving a few last farewells to the few people still mingling in the country club before heading back out to you, still waiting for him. He can’t keep the slight smirk off of his face as he steps out, spotting you waiting around. “Ready?”

“Yeah, I’m ready.” You say.

He smiles, walking over to you and resting his hand on your back again, guiding you away from the country club and towards the parking lot. His hand drops from your back when you get to his car, but his fingers brush your arm as he walks past you. He unlocks his truck before rushing around and opening up the passenger side door. “After you.” He said with a smirk.

You climb in, getting comfy. His car is always clean, a bottle of sunscreen and a water bottle in his cupholders. Dangling from the rearview mirror is a pear scented air freshener and a photo of him with his sisters Sarah and Wheezie. “Is it at your place?”

Rafe closes the door behind you and quickly walks around, getting into the driver’s seat and starting the car. He doesn’t immediately drive off, though, and instead just starts the car and leans back in his seat, letting it idle for a moment. “Mhm. My new place. That cool?” He asks, glancing over at you.

“Yeah, course.” You say.

“Good,” He says, pulling his seat belt on and pulling out of the parking lot, pulling out onto the road and driving towards his new house. The sun had set a while ago and the drive is peaceful, Head over Heels by Tears for Fears playing softly from the radio as the wind brushes through your hair from the slightly-open windows. You admire him as he drives, watching him quietly sing along, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel.

He doesn’t catch your eyes watching him until he glances over at you for a moment. He smiles when he catches you looking at him, his cheeks growing a bit warmer, but he quickly turns his gaze forward again, focusing on the road. He doesn’t say anything, just taps his fingers against the steering wheel to the beat of the music and keeps driving. As you approach his new house, he turns the radio off, Heat Of The Moment by Asia just getting seconds to start playing. He parks the car, quickly getting out to rush over to the passenger side to open the door for you.

“Thanks.” You say, hopping out.

“No problem.” He smiles, holding out a hand to help you out. When you’re safely on the ground again, he keeps your hand in his, shutting and locking the car before guiding you towards the house. As he does so, he glances down at you, his face growing a bit warmer when he realises that you’re now holding his hand.

He opens the door, the party already in full swing, music blasting while drunk Kooks grind up against each other. The house reeks of alcohol and weed, music blasting through the speakers and people talking loudly amongst themselves. The majority of the crowd appears to be drunk and/or high already, people swaying and staggering around each other, talking and laughing drunkenly. Rafe slips inside, pulling you along with him through the crowd, heading straight for the kitchen, where Topper and Kelce are, beers in hand while they talk to a few of Rafe’s other friends.

“Where can I put my bag?” You ask, keeping it close to you.

He looks at the bag, opening the fridge. “Yo, Top.”

Topper looks over. “Sup?”

Rafe grabs your bag, handing it to Topper. “Put this in my room and I’ll let you snort some lines.”

Topper seems intrigued by the promise of free cocaine, already heading out of the kitchen towards the stairs. 

“Thanks, Rafe.” You say. 

He shuts the fridge door. “No problem,” He watches Topper head off before turning back to you, resting his hand on your lower back. “You want a beer or somethin’?”

You shake your head, getting closer to him. “No, I’m good.”

He smiles softly, rubbing small circles with his thumb against your back. “You sure? Plenty of stuff you can try out.” He nods towards where the makeshift bar is set up in the living room, various bottles of liquor and hard alcohol all stacked up.

You shake your head again, fully leaning against him. “Nah. I’m good right now.”

He smiles, putting a bit of pressure against your back, pulling you closer. He’s a bit buzzed himself, a few drinks into the evening, and feeling good already. He leans down a bit, almost resting his chin on your head. “Alright, beautiful.” You lean against Rafe, head resting against his chest as he talks to his friends for a while, beer bottle in hand. You’re feeling a bit anxious, but all things considered, being right against him is providing you some comfort. Your eyes flutter closed for just a second before you open them again.

Topper approaches, a stupid smile on his face, definitely a little drunk. Rafe smiles, his hand absentmindedly playing with your hair for the time being. He glances over when Topper approaches, seeing the smile on his face. He lets out a snort, looking at his friend. “You snort something already?”

Topper ignores him, hands immediately going to cup your face. “You…” He shakes your head. “I know about you.”

“What?” You ask, trying to pull away.

“I know,” He repeats. “I know what you do.” He doesn’t let you go, his hands lingering on the sides of your face, though his hands are now a bit more rough.

Rafe’s face falls immediately, a bad feeling brewing in his gut. “Top, what are you talking about?”

“You left your journal in your bag,” Topper says, squeezing your face. “I read it. Couldn’t help myself.”

Your heart drops, a chill going over your skin. “What?”

Topper grins stupidly, still squeezing your face in a way that’s making you uncomfortable. “I read it.” He repeats. “You and all of your anxiety.”

Rafe’s eyes fill with dread as he hears that, his eyes widening slightly with terror. He swallows. “You weren’t supposed to read that, dude.”

“Oh, that’s not all!” Topper exclaims happily. “Someone…someone’s got a crush on you, Rafe.” Topper glances over at him. “A big, fat, gigantic crush on you. Half those pages are about you, man.”

You try to pull your face away, but his grip tightens. Your stomach twists and churns, hot, shameful tears welling in your eyes. Rafe’s heart drops into his stomach at Topper’s words, and his gaze flicks over to you almost immediately, his eyes widening when he sees the tears. He swallows, trying to stay calm as he takes a step forward. “Topper, let her go, man. Don’t do this right now.”

Topper lets go of your face, pushing you slightly. “Don’t tell me you pity her, man.”

“She didn’t do anything,” Rafe argues with his friend, clenching his hands into fists. “C’mon, man, you don’t gotta do this. Just leave her alone.”

“Hey, listen,” Topper grabs your arm when you try to walk away. “I won’t tell anyone. All you gotta do is get down on your knees and open your pretty mouth for me, alright? All you gotta do is put my balls in that pretty little mouth of yours, and I won’t tell a soul.”

Rafe pushes Topper away from you, sending him tumbling into the counter. “You’re being a dick, man, don’t say that shit to her. Come on.” 

Topper stands up and shoves him. “Don’t be a pussy, Rafe. She can handle it.”

“I don’t care if she can handle it, don’t fucking talk to her like that.” Rafe says angrily.

“Why do you care?” Topper asks. “You care about this little slut?” Rafe goes to lunge at him but stops himself, and it causes Topper to laugh. “What? You gonna hit me?”

“Shut the fuck up, man,” Rafe says. “Just shut up. Don’t talk to her like that. I won’t let you treat her that way. Quit being an asshole before I fuck you up.”

Topper laughs. “I could kick your ass, man, and you know that.”

“Yeah?” Rafe challenges. “Come on. Hit me.” He slaps his cheek over and over, inviting Topper to take a swing.

“Rafe, hey, stop,” You grab his arm. “Don’t fight. Come on.”

Rafe doesn’t look at you as you grab his arm, his eyes still locked on Topper’s, waiting for a punch, daring his friend to hit him. Topper hesitates, waiting for a moment before finally grinning and dropping his shoulders. “Look at that. She’s got you wrapped around her little finger.”

“You know what? Party’s over,” Rafe says. He cups around his mouth before yelling. “Everyone, get the fuck out!”

Almost immediately, everyone starts heading for the door, the party rapidly dying out as people start piling out into the night. The music dies down as Topper pushes past Rafe, his shoulder checking him on his way out. “Pussy.”

Rafe just clenches his fists, biting his lip, as he stands there and watches everyone leaving. The door slams shut with the final departure, and you look over at him, reaching up to wipe away a stray tear. “You okay?”

When the door shuts for the last time, he turns to look at you, his heart breaking at the sight of the tears in your eyes. He swallows, moving towards you and cupping your face, wiping away the other stray tears off of your face. “I’m good. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good.” You say softly. 

“Good,” He says softly, sighing. He keeps his hands on your face, his thumb caressing your cheek. “You’re good. I’m sorry about that. I’m sorry about Topper.”

“It’s not your fault.” You say.

“Still,” He sighs. “You didn’t deserve that. That’s not how any of this should’ve happened.” He closes his eyes, resting his forehead against yours as guilt overflows his chest.

Your eyes close and you sigh, leaning into his hands. He lets out a shaky breath, closing his eyes as he just feels you lean into him, a warm feeling going through his chest. He’s not even quite sure what to say, still overwhelmed from the events that have just unfolded in front of him. He just stands there with his eyes closed, pressing his face against your forehead. 

“He was telling the truth,” You say, breaking the silence. “About what he read. They’re all about you.”

He swallows, keeping his eyes closed for a few more seconds before slowly opening them again. “I know, beautiful.” He replies softly, his voice nearly a whisper.

Your stomach twists. “You knew that I liked you?”

“Yeah, I knew,” He replies softly. “I’ve known for a while.” He hesitates, his fingers grazing against your cheek. “Didn’t know you felt that strongly about me, though.”

Your bottom lip trembles as you pull away, trying not to cry. You felt so stupid. “They were… they were older entries, Rafe.” Although deep down, you knew you still felt the same way.

His face falls when you try to pull away, guilt filling his gut, and he quickly moves his hand to catch your wrist, trying to stop you. “Hey, wait, don’t pull away, please,” His eyes look sad when he sees that trembling lip, his grip tightening on your hand. “It’s okay, beautiful, please just stay.”

“No, no, you…” You shudder. “You don’t need to do this.”

“I’m not ‘doing’ anything, beautiful,” He says softly. “Stop pulling away. Stay. I’m trying to talk to you. I… I want to talk to you about this.”

“I know you don’t feel the same way, Rafe,” You say pathetically, starting to cry. “You don’t have to do this.”

He swallows, the guilt just building and building and building as he watches you start to cry, and he can’t stand to watch you cry for another second without doing something about it. He takes a step forward, taking your face in his hands. “Look at me.” You look up at him, whimpering slightly.

He gently wipes away your tears, his gaze locking on yours as he forces you to look him in the eye. His face is soft, his look comforting, and his own chest hurts just from looking at the hurt in your teary eyes. He swallows to collect himself before speaking. “I know they were older entries, but I know you still like me.”

You shake your head, but you didn’t know who you were trying to convince, yourself or Rafe. “Rafe, please, you don’t have to do this.”

He can tell that you’re trying to deny it, and when you start begging him not to do whatever he’s trying to say, he finally just breaks. “Stop.” He says, almost begging himself. His thumb presses against your jaw, trying to still you and get you to look into his eyes. “Please, just stop. Stop saying that I- that I don’t have to say anything. I need to say this.”

You nod, letting him talk.

He swallows again, trying to organise his words and say everything right in his mind before he says it all out loud. It’ll be too real if he does. He holds your face in his hands as he looks down at you, his own chest rising and falling as he tries to find the words. “I know that you still like me, and I know you’ve felt that way about me for a long time. But I just… I’m just terrified I’m going to mess it up. Like I always mess everything else up.”

“You don’t mess anything up.” You say.

He looks away for a moment before looking back into your eyes, swallowing. “Beautiful, I do. I mess everything up. That’s just who I am, I mess everything good up, and I can’t bear the idea of risking messing it up with you too. You matter too much to me. You, like, you actually mean something to me, and I just can’t stand the idea of not being able to be in your life because I messed everything up.”

“How would you mess this up?” You ask softly.

He takes a deep breath, trying to collect himself again. “I don’t know. I don’t know how, but I would. I mean, I screw everything else up, so why should this be any different? I’m gonna get too messed up and act too crazy and do something that pushes you away. And you’ll hate me, or, or worse, you’ll just go away. You’ll walk out of my life and it’ll just be like you were never there.”

“I’ll never leave you like that, Rafey.” You say, leaning into his palms.

He closes his eyes for a moment, feeling you lean into his hands. It feels so good, so right, that he can’t stand it. He lets out a breath before opening his eyes again, swallowing hard. “You say that now, beautiful, but it doesn’t change anything,” He says softly. “I know I’m gonna screw this up, I’m gonna do something that hurts you, and I just can’t stand the idea of ever hurting you, beautiful, I…” He trails off, his chest constricting as he desperately tries to get his words out. “I lost Ward. I'm loosing Sarah to that fucker John B. She doesn’t even go by Sarah Cameron anymore. I can't lose you too.”

“You’ll never lose me.” You say, moving your hands up to cup his.

He closes his eyes for a moment, breathing heavily as he feels the warmth of your hands wrapping around his, your words like a soothing touch to his own soul. It’s like everything inside him just settles at your words, a feeling he hadn’t realised he was craving for the longest time. He opens his eyes again, slowly, before looking down at you. “Promise?”

“I promise,” You say. “I…” You hesitate, sucking in a breath. His chest is a nervous wreck, his stomach twisting into so many goddamn knots as he just waits for your words, his eyes never once leaving yours.

You take a shaky, tear filled breath. “I love you.”

Everything falls silent. Rafe’s mind goes blank, all thoughts just vanishing from his head as those words fall from your lips. All that fills his head is your voice. I love you. I love you, it echoes, over and over and over again, bouncing around his mind like a ball in a dark room. He can’t think of anything else as those words just crash through his head, leaving everything in rubble. His heart feels like it’s stopped, that it’s just frozen in his chest, and he’s speechless.

Your bottom lip trembles again, a fresh new set of tears already welling in your eyes. “Please say something. Please do something.”

When you plead for him to speak or do something, it snaps him out of his daze, and his heart comes back to life. It starts pumping again like he’s run a mile, and suddenly he’s all movement as he suddenly pulls you against him, wrapping his arms tightly around you. He just holds you like that at first, hugging you tight tight tight, his head burying against the side of your neck, letting out a huge breath against your skin.

“You don’t have to say it back,” You say, wrapping your arms around him. “I know it’s hard for you to say, and you don’t have to say it back to me.”

He just hugs you tighter when you say that, his hands clutching at the back of your shirt. “Shut up,” He mumbles against the side of your neck, his voice a whisper. “Just shut up. You stupid, beautiful girl. Shut up. Shut up.”

You let out a small laugh, hugging him tighter.

Rafe hugs you even tighter at the sound of your laugh, his arms wrapped so tightly around your back that you might have trouble breathing soon. His heart is still beating a mile a minute, and he just wants to squeeze all the air out of you, so that you’re forced to only breathe him. He buries his face against your neck again, his voice a whisper when he speaks. “Say it again. Please.”

“I love you.” You whisper into his ear, kissing his temple.

His breath catches in his throat when you whisper those words again, saying them against his ear and kissing his temple, and he can’t take it. He squeezes you tighter, almost afraid you’re going to disappear if he doesn’t hold you tight enough, if he doesn’t hold you close enough. His lips suddenly press against your neck, kissing it over and over, his voice a shaky whisper. “I'll say it. Eventually. I just can't right now.”

“I know.” You whisper.

He buries his face against your neck, still kissing your skin over and over as his mind races, trying to collect himself. “Stop telling me it’s okay. Stop being so damn forgiving, beautiful girl. I don’t deserve it.”

“Yes, you do.” You say.

He sighs against your neck, finally pulling away, though he still keeps his arms wrapped tight around your waist. He doesn’t look you in the eye, his eyes falling to the collar of your shirt, his eyes just locking on the skin of your throat. “I’m a mess,” He says. “I’ve never done anything right in my life. I mess everything up. Why do you want to put up with that?”

“Because I love you,” You say again. “I always have, and I always will. Even if we don’t end up together, I’ll still fucking love you.”

His breath catches to hear you say that. Hearing those three words again makes his stomach twist and his mind go blank, but he finally forces himself to look into your eyes again. He swallows before speaking. “Promise?”

“I promise.” You say, sticking a pinky up.

His eyes fall on your pinky, and for a moment he just stares at it, seeing it in front of his face. When he finally comes to his senses, he lifts a hand off your waist to reach forward and lock his pinky with yours, his eyes locking back on yours. When he locks your fingers together, a warmth rushes through his chest, like a weight has just been lifted off his shoulders, and his eyes grow soft as he stares into your eyes. For a while, he just stands there, looking at you as he takes in the fact that you… love him. That you’re, actually, in love love with him. And he’s standing here, holding your hand in front of him, just trying his best to keep his shit together.

Rafe swallows hard before speaking, “Can I kiss you?”

“God, fuck, please do.” You breathe out.

God, he can’t believe he’s actually hearing that from you - begging him for a kiss. His heart leaps in his chest to hear that, that soft, pleading response, and he barely lets you finish your sentence before he’s suddenly surging forward, pressing his lips against your own. His hands release your waist and instead move up to cup your face, tilting your head back as he suddenly kisses you.

You wrap your arms around his neck and he keeps his hands on your face as he kisses you, pulling you flush against him, closing his eyes. It’s like nothing he’s ever experienced - he’s kissed plenty of girls before, sure, but he’s never felt this. You, you feel so different. He can’t even begin to put into words what it is about you that makes it different, what it is that makes you different from all of the girls he’s kissed before.

All he knows is that it is.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

★taglist: @ietss, @momoewn, @blairsblg, @teenwolfbitches28, @dasia21, @drewsphswife, @gilwm, @watchmerora, @odairtrqsh, @wearemadeofstardust0, @rafesbabygirlx, @slumnit, @babygirlwilly, @rafeyswife (italics means i couldn’t tag you!)

join my permanent obx taglist here!

[sandwitchstories]

5 More Minutes

I had this image in my head of Mouse in Sukuna's haori. And then this little drabble happened.

For more adventures with Mouse, check out my Dad!Sukuna Series on my AO3 - Here! )

Author's Note: For anyone new to my Dad!Sukuna Series, Mouse is Sukuna's, currently, 2 year old daughter with reader.

Summary: Sukuna's favorite haori has disappeared. It can't just grow legs and disappear. Or can it?

WC: 600+

CW: reader is referred to as 'Mama' but not described, toddler dad Sukuna, girl dad!sukuna, true form Sukuna (4 arms), it's pretty much just plain Dilf Sukuna fluff and crack, SFW in every way, just family fluff, father and daughter fluff, writing them together gives me life

Sukuna gave a frustrated huff as he walked around his estate in search of his black haori. He had somewhere to be and he was not happy to have his departure delayed. He still needed to say goodbye to you and the brat. Which was never a short ordeal between your ‘one more kiss’ and Mouse’s ‘now me!’

You had been the first place he checked. You had a tendency to steal his clothing no matter how big it was on you. You had a litany of excuses for this behavior. However, today you were not the culprit.

He headed into your shared room to see if maybe he had left it in there, though he could swear he had grabbed it that morning. It wasn’t like the damn thing could grow legs… or could it? 

He went straight to your bed, looking down with his hands on his hips. It had indeed grown legs.

Two tiny legs attached to one very troublesome little girl. 

Mouse laid curled up in your bed, sound asleep, wrapped in his haori. Tsk. While it was indeed cute, it was also very annoying. Sukuna leaned forward and pulled at the material, trying to tug it out from under Mouse. She growled and rolled so it was tighter around her. He used a hand to gently start to roll her and try to retrieve his item. 

She cracked her eyes open and gave him your look of instant death. “What doing, Papa?”

“I am taking back my haori, Mouse. I have somewhere to be,” he said, trying to keep the annoyance out of his tone.

She regarded him for a moment before turning her head and closing her eyes again. “5 more minutes, Papa. Please and thank you.”

“No more minutes, Mouse,” he said firmly, starting to pull on the material again.

“Don’t do it, Papa,” she said in a sleepy but grumpy tone.

“Or what?” he challenged her.

“I bite you, Papa.”

He guffawed at her. “You’ll bite me?”

“Yes, Papa.”

Her audacity knew no bounds. “Well, if you bite me I’ll bite you back. And I bite harder and have sharper teeth. Now, give me my haori.”

“But I comfortable, Papa…” she whined, rolling onto her back to rub her eyes and look up at him. “Why need it, Papa?”

“I already told you, I have somewhere I need to go,” he said, picking her up with one arm and taking his haori back with the other, ignoring her protests. “You can have it back when I get home.”

“But, Papa… I don’t want you to go,” her lip started to tremble.

“Well, tough shit, little one,” he said, laying her back down on the bed. He pulled the blanket up around her and rubbed her back. “Go back to sleep, Mouse. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Papa?”

“Yes, Mouse?”

“You bring back something tasty for Papa and Mouse?” she asked, eyes already fluttering closed.

He grinned. “I promise.”

“And I get it back when you get home?” she asked, reaching out her hand to sleepily play with the edge of the haori laying on the bed. 

“Yes, Mouse, you can have it back when I get home if that will please you,” he chuckled. “Now, I need to go.”

“Okay, Papa,” she said, a pout on her face making her chubby cheeks even more prominent. 

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead before pulling back to leave. She caught his face between her hands and cracked open one eye. “One more kiss.” 

He gave her one more kiss and started to stand. He grunted as you managed to startle him as you wrapped your arms around him from behind. He glanced over his shoulder at you with an arched eyebrow.

You grinned up at him and said, “Now me!”

He was never getting out of there, was he? 

________________________________________

Author's Note: Sukuna was only that nice about his haori because she was asleep. One time, you and Mouse rolled up like a burrito in it. He grabbed on to the edge and gave it a yank, a huge smile on his face as he watched the two of you go flying across the bed. It's his brand of cuteness aggression.

[jamiepaige]

Constant Companions Closeup #3: ROT FOR CLOUT

(also on bandcamp and spotify!)

WHAT'S going on guys, welcome back to another Constant Companions Closeup, the show where we take a DEEP DIVE into what makes these tunes tick! Last episode, we went aaaaaall the way there on Not Quite There, and today, we're making that liggity-line go up up up up up with ROT FOR CLOUT featuring VISUALEYES!! Before we get started, remember to SMASH that like button, SLAM subscribe, and FUCK the bell icon. This week's community challenge: leave your credit card info in the comments! Bet you won't!

(*cough*)

---

I check my notifications way too fucking much. It's a habit I'm trying to curb, and to my credit, I am doing better lately, but being chemically predisposed to dopamine deficiencies has done a number on my ability to go five minutes without checking the funny glowing numbers on my phone. Naturally, I also very much seek more validation than I should from the opinions of strangers yadayadayada yeah that's what the song is about but none of that actually has to do with why I started writing this song in the first place.

Have you ever taken a flight with American Airlines?

This was after waking up at 4 in the morning to fly out of Houston thinking I'd be napping on a couch in Ohio by 2 pm at the latest.

I want to make one thing clear here, and that's that I made this bed for myself. Tucked the sheets in and all. You see, on the rare occasions I fly, I normally take Southwest. Southwest does not overbook flights like a lot of other airlines do, so it's a practice I am mostly unfamiliar with. So, when I received a notification on my phone promising genuinely ridiculous amounts of flight credit money in exchange for taking a slightly later flight, I thought - well, shit! That sounds nice!

This is how they trick you. I didn't really realize I'd been tricked until I was on my second flight of the day, sitting in a middle seat at the very back of the plane, heading from Dallas, a city I don't live in, to Washington, DC, a city I was not trying to get to, staring down the barrel of another flight I was destined to get on that had been delayed like two fucking hours.

I became the Joker. All I could do to remain sane was write a song about it. This is how ROT FOR CLOUT came to be.

I guess the moral of the story is this: Don't go to Ohio. And to answer your question,

Yes I am

Not really

No

---

This is a complete sidenote but I want to mention it here: I'm genuinely overjoyed at the amount of people excitedly talking about my songwriting or the intention behind my lyrics. For a long time, it really felt like lyricism was the last thing people cared about from me, while it was always the thing I wanted to take pride in the most... So genuinely, thank you everyone for caring!! Every single fire emoji people have put next to a line I've written has extended my lifespan by multiple years

There's a brief little moment where the song's chords leave the key, doing a really stereotypically jazzy 2-5 movement, and it's one of my favorite parts of the entire song. I'm not really a music theory buff or anything, and I'm certainly not formally trained, but I've always been very passionate about more complicated harmony in otherwise poppy and accessible contexts - bo en's album pale machine really rewrote my brain when I first heard it.

On that note, there are microtones in the vocal melody - During the chorus, some of the rapidly repeated words move up in quarter tones! Possibly the simplest way I could've included microtonality, but I'm genuinely afraid if I learn more than what I already know about it I'll be lost to the darkness.

Obviously, the work of Sasuke Haraguchi was a massive influence on this song, particularly the song Igaku. I think basically everyone on the entire planet has picked up on that at this point, but I do also wanna point out some other songs that were on my mind at the time! (two for three on these posts mentioning louis cole now)

I'd also like to take a moment to spotlight the vocal samples on this! They previously appeared on エビチャーハン!, and they've honestly become some of my favorite samples to throw in things. They're also just a fucking goldmine sincerely

Finally, HUGE thanks to Visualeyes for the delightful synth solo on this!! I had put out a call on Twitter looking for instrumentalists, genuinely originally envisioning a super jazzy piano solo, but their synth playing genuinely brought the whole song together perfectly!

That's about it for this song - though again, if there are any more questions people have, I'd be happy to answer them in the replies to this post or elsewhere!! (*ahem*) THAT'S gonna do it for today's video, folks! Feel free to leave a like, comment, hit the subscribe button for more and click the bell so you don't miss any new videos. Tomorrow? I Wish That I Could Fall. it hurts.

[justwhisperingfantasies]

Girl At The Rock Show Part 5

Characters: Jensen Ackles (xreader). Mac(o.c), Jared Padalecki. Val (o.c). Phil (o.c)

Warnings: Language, Fluff, Talk of abusive/controlling relationship. A hint of PTSD from an abusive relationship maybe. Let me know if I forgot any. 

Summary: Getting dragged to that live show might have been the best thing that ever happened to you. Now you are falling. Falling fast.

Word count: 6.268 words

A/N: Part 5 Y'all. I am having so much fun with this story. Thank you all for the kind words and the inspiration to keep writing.🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰 Hope y'all enjoy it. 💗

Please don't copy my work and post it elsewhere.

Like, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated 💗

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

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{} Reader’s P.O.V {}

You plopped in your bed with a heavy sigh. You lay there replaying the day in your head.

“Hey, do you still need a ride to the dealership tomorrow?” Mac asked from your doorway.

“Not necessarily, I can Uber if something came up.”

“It’s not that. I just didn’t know if you wanted Jen.”

“No.” You cut her off. “Sorry, that came out bitchy.”

“You, ok?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do I need to hurt him?”

You chuckled. “No.”

“You wanna talk about it?”

“I don’t know.” You sighed again. Just then your phone buzzed. It was a picture from Jensen. “Well, shit!” you said opening the message.

“What?”

“I forgot about my cowboy hat.” She laughed at your pouty face.

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{} Jensen’s P.O.V {}

He put your bags in the armchair then threw his keys on the coffee table as he slumped onto the couch.  Somehow his house seemed even more empty tonight. He slid his phone out of his pocket debating whether to send you a picture of him in your hat. Fuck it. He jumped up and tossed his hat. He got the angle and his smile just right then snapped the picture.

As he waited for a reply, he figured he had better call Jared. It only rang once.

“Finally, I was just about to call in a search party.”

Jensen chuckled. “What’s up, man?”

“Nothing just hanging out.”

“Yea. What are Gen and the kids doing?”

“Jensen!”

“What?” Jensen asked laughing.

“Tell me about her.”

“Like I said earlier. She just moved to Austin. I met her at the show last night and I showed her around Austin today.”

“And?”

“She smells like caramel and sandalwood, likes Garth Brooks, plays pool better than me, likes Zeppelin, has great banter, and she’s fun. And she’s smart J.P. She went to Columbia. She’s a Cowboys’ fan adjacent.”

Jared chuckled. “What does that mean?”

“Her mama was a Cowboys fan.”

“So, you like her?” He could hear the smile in Jared’s voice.

“No, I just take random girls all over the city and spend the whole day with them.”

“Sarcastic answer. So, you really like her.” Jensen sighed heavily. “What’s so wrong with that?” Jared asked.

“24 hours Jared. I’ve known her for 24 hours.”

“Dude, the first time I met Gen I knew there was something special about her.”

“Yea well, I don’t have the luck you do.”

“Eh. Maybe you’re luckier than you think Jensen.”

“What if.” There was a beep. “Hold on.” He tapped the speaker phone option and opened the text.

Y/N: I expect that hat back in the same exact condition I left it in Jensen Ross.

Jensen chuckled.

“What?!” Jared asked. Jensen explained about your hat and read the message out loud. “Middle naming you already huh?”

“I guess so.”

“When are you gonna see her again?”

“Not sure. She’s supposed to call me tomorrow after she gets her car.”

“Listen Ackles, you can sit around all day and play that what-if game. It’s a waste of time. I’m not saying hop on a plane and head to Vegas, but obviously, you like her. So stop being scared about it and just take it one day at a time.”

“You’re right, but it’s easier said than done my friend.”

Jared chuckled. “Which part?”

“Both.”

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{} Jensen’s P.O.V {}

He stopped mid-bicep curl when “call from (y/n)” came through his earbuds, a smile spread across his face when he heard her name.

He sat the dumbbell down and tapped his earbud. “Well, hey there, sweetheart.”

“Hello, Mr. Ackles.” His smile got bigger when he heard her voice. “Are you at a club? Sir, It’s 10 in the morning.”

He chuckled. “I’m at the gym.” He started walking toward the door. “Hold on a sec”

“Wanna call me back?”

“No.” He stepped outside. “Better?”

“Yes.  So, the gym huh?”

He smiled. “Yep.”

“What are you wearing?”

“Nothing…”

“I’m gonna need proof.”

Throwing his head back he let out a laugh. “How’s your morning going?”

“Pretty good. I got my car and called Erica.”

“Well?”

“I have an interview tomorrow.”

“That’s exciting! Congrats.”

“Thank you. Still a wee bit nervous though.”

“Don’t be you will crush it.”

“Speaking of crushing it, do you wanna finish your workout?”

“Gimme 20 minutes?”

“You don’t have to rush.”

“I was almost done anyhow.”

“Ok then. Talk to you then.”  

He smiled. “Lookin forward to it.”

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{} Reader’s P.O.V {}

Mac sat down in your car as you said goodbye. “What no argument on who hangs up first?” She said, smiling at you.

You rolled your eyes, “Which coffee shop would you like to go to?”

“Ghoul. You will freaking love it.” She put the address in your maps app. You started following the directions. “So, you called him?”

“I called him.” You confirmed.

“And?”

“And nothing. We talked for a few minutes, teased a little, and he was at the gym, so I told him to finish and call me later.” You said following the curve to E St Elmo Rd.

She nodded and turned the volume up as Burin’ For You by Blue Oyster Cult started to play. The two of you jammed for 3 more songs before making it to the coffee shop.

“Well, that was fun.” You admitted as you parked on the street.

“Just like old times.” She said opening her door.

“This is cute.” You said as you walked past the picnic tables to the coffee truck.

“I knew you would like it.”

You looked over the menu. Mac ordered her drink and then looked at you “Maple boob butter please.” The barista gave you the total and you handed her your card.

“(Y/N)!!” who the hell is yelling my name in Austin you thought as you turned around.

Mac didn’t even have to turn around. “Is Jared Padalecki really yelling your name right now?”

“Babe, I hate to tell you this, but if you know their voice without a face, you may have watched the show too many times”

She turned around, “No such thing!”

“Well, well, if it ain’t the O.G Dean.” You said as Jared approached you making him chuckle. “How are.” He cut you off with a hug. Making you let out a small gasp.

“I’m good,” he said releasing you. “How are you?”

“Good.” You told him and Mac cleared her throat.

“Jared. This is Mckinnley. My Supernatural and everything about Jensen and Jared obsessed best friend.

He smiled. “Howdy, Mckinnley.” He stuck his hand out. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Mac, call me Mac.” She shook his hand

“Mac” he repeated, and she giggled “How come you haven’t got her to watch Supernatural yet?”

“I have been trying. James was a stupid.”

“Mac!”

“Shit I’m sorry.”

The barista called out your order and Mac turned to grab your drinks.

“Should I ask?” Jared asked you.

“Long story short. There was a thing, but the thing is gone now. I have every intention of watching it.”

“A thing?”

“My ex.”

“Oh.”

“Yea. He was a jealous, manipulative, controlling douche. I wasn’t allowed to watch Supernatural.”

“And he can rot in hell,” Mac said holding your coffee out to you.

“Look, I shouldn’t have pried. I’m sor”

“Jared it's ok.” You took a drink. Damn, it was good. “Jensen knows.”

“Not my business.”

“Yes, it is. He’s your best friend.”

“Jared, you want your usual?” The barista asked him.

 “Yes, please.” he walked to the window and handed her his card. “Hey,” he turned back to you. “I have an odd request.”

“Hit me, Padalecki.”

 He got out his phone and tapped a couple of things.  “Here.” He handed it to you. The screen was set up to FaceTime Jensen. “Just hit the green button.

“Jared,”

“Oh, come on. he’ll be so confused,”

“Ok.” Jared chuckled as you tapped the icon.

Jensen answered but all you saw was sky. “Hey bud, can I call you back, I promised I would call...”

“Me?”

He looked at the phone when he heard your voice. “Hey!”

“Hi.” You giggled.

“Um got a question for you sweetheart.”

“Shoot.”

“Why do you have Jared’s phone?”

“I pick-pocketed him last night and his phone is just way better than mine.”

Jensen, Jared, and Mac all laughed.

“Why do I hear his dumb laugh then?”

“Hey, buddy.” Jared leaned into the screen.

“What’s up?’

“Hanging out, Grabbing some coffee.”

Jensen nodded. “So, you guys hang out now?”

“Well yeah didn’t you hear?” you asked, and Jensen raised his eyebrows “I’m Jared’s new best friend.”

“Sorry, Bruh” Jared teased

“Alright, I’ll take Mac.”

“Um, the hell you will.”

“You can’t have both of them. That’s just not fair.”

“Well doll face, sometimes life just isn’t far.”

Jensen laughed. The barista called out Jared’s name and he went up to the window.

 “Hey Jared, I’m not stealing your phone. Just going to sit down.” Jensen laughed again.

You and Mac went over to a table and sat. Jared joined you after he grabbed his coffee.

“So, how’d you end up hanging out with Padalecki?” Jensen asked.

“Mac and I wanted coffee. So, we came to Ghouls, and guess who we ran into?

“Oh my gosh. Who?”

“Jared freaking Padalecki!”

“No. Freaking. Way.”

“True story.”

“Hey, can I call you right back?”

“Sure.” He puckered his lips and hung up.

“Ok then.”  You said disappointed.

“I got a 10-dollar bill that says he will be here soon,” Jared said.

“I’m not taking that bet,” Mac said.

“So, (y/n) how was the rest of your date?” Jared asked you.

“Good.”

“That’s all I get? Where’d you go after Paperboy?”

“Wimberly Zipline Adventures.” You narrowed your eyes at him. “Did he really not tell you about it?”

“Well, we didn’t really focus on the activities.”

“You gonna tell me what that means exactly?”

“Nope,” he pretended to lock his lips.

You rolled your eyes. “So, Where’s Gen? How are the kiddos?”

He chuckled. “Gen is working today. I dropped the kids off at school earlier.” He took a drink and smirked. “What’s new with you? Where’s your boyfriend?”

“On his way.” Mac chimed in.

“I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Yet.” Mac and Jared said at the same time.

You sighed. “I do have an interview tomorrow though”

 “Where’s your interview at?” Jared asked

“Pediatric Associates of Austin.”

“You’re a freaking doctor?”

“Not technically. I would be a physician assistant. I dropped out my second year of residency.”

“Close enough (y/n)” Jared said.

“That’s what I said.” Mac agreed.

“Can I ask why you dropped out?”

Mac looked at you. “it’s ok. My mama got sick and didn’t make it. I lost motivation for medicine,”

“I am so sorry (y/n)”

“Thank you. It was a while ago.” You took another drink. “After debating with Mac, soul searching, and a talk with Jensen I decided I wanted back in.”

Jared looked up and you followed his gaze. You saw a big black Chevy drive by.

“Speak of the devil,” Jared said and you looked at him with furrowed brows. “That was Jensen.”

“In the Silverado?”

“Yes.”

You whipped out your phone.

------------------------------------------

Y/N: What do you want to drink?

Jensen: I’ll get it.

Y/N: Stop being stubborn and tell me.

Jensen: Iced Americano with cream, please.

Y/N: Was that so hard?

------------------------------------------

“I’ll be right back.” You walked up to the window and ordered his drink. You turned around and your knees went weak when you saw him walk around the corner. It baffled you how someone could look so stunning in gym clothes, but he did. He would look in anything or nothing. You shook the dirty thoughts out of your mind. He nodded at Jared as he walked past him. Your heartbeat quickened with every step closer. “Hey there cowgirl.” He said when he got to you.

You chuckled and grabbed his face, bringing his lips down to yours. His arms wrapped around your waist and lifted you off the ground as he kissed you back.

“Well, hello there, Mr. Ackles.” You said when the kiss ended. He smiled his dazzling smile, and he put your feet back on the ground.

“Here Jensen.” The barista said smiling at you guys as she held his coffee out the window “Thanks, Val. “He unwrapped one of his arms and took the coffee. “And thank you.” He kissed your cheek.

“No problem.”  You guys turned to your friends who were in a debate about something.

Mac looked up and saw you walking back over. “Shh,” she told Jared. “But this isn’t over.” he nodded. You sat back in the same spot and Jared scooted so Jensen could sit in front of you.

“So, (y/n) I hear you’re a pool shark.”

“Oh, you did?”

“Yep.”

“From which one?” He pointed a finger at Jensen.

You squinted your eyes at Jensen. He looked up “Look. A cool-looking bird.” Jared looked up, You and Mac started laughing.

“Jensen, did (y/n) tell you she has an interview tomorrow?” Mac asked

“She did,” Jensen said

“Did she tell you where?” Jared asked.

“No, she didn’t.” He looked at you

“Pediatric Associates of Austin.” You told him.

“Dude, that’s you take your kids.” He turned to Jared.

“I know.”  Jared finished his coffee.

“Why didn’t you say that when I told you?” you asked Jared.

“Well, I was caught off guard. Jensen said you went to Columbia, but he didn’t say anything about med school.”

You raised your eyebrows and looked at Jensen. He looked at the sky and pointed. You rolled your eyes and looked back at Jared. “Yep. Pre-med, med school, Internship, and the year and half of residency I did was all through Columbia.”

“Damn. So, you’re like a genius.”

“I wouldn’t”

Mac cut you off. “Yes, and don’t even bother with any trivia game.”  

Your cheeks turned pink. “She’s over-exaggerating.”

Mac shook her head and mouthed no I’m not at Jared and Jensen, they chuckled.

“Well, kids. I gotta get this shit done.”

“Aw come one Padalecki.” Jensen teased.

“Dude, Gen will kill me.”

“Yea… I wouldn’t risk it.  Coffee for the road?” Jensen asked.

“Sure.”

“You ladies want anything else?”

“None for me. Thank you though.” Mac said. Jensen looked at you.

“I’m good. Thanks.” He winked at you.

They guys walked back up to the coffee truck.

“So, I introduce you to Jared Padalecki and you fight with him? What the hell?”

She laughed. “We were not fighting. Just a little debate.”

“A heated debate.”

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{} Jensen’s P.O.V {}

“So, Mac let something slip before you got here and (y/n) told me about her ex,” Jared confessed. While they waited in line.

Jensen pressed his lips in a hard line. “I’d love 5 minutes in a room with him.”

“Seems like you both have been through some rough shit.”

“Her more than me.”

“Jensen. Having the girl, you loved give up because of something you couldn’t control is not easy.”

“It was a mutual decision.”  He said as they moved up.

“Still not easy.”

He sighed “Padalecki, get to the point.”

 Jared continued. “Look I’m just saying I understand your hesitation now. I don’t think it’s necessary, but I understand it.”

“She is pretty great huh?” a smile spread across his face.

“Yeah, I haven’t seen you smile this much in years.” They moved up “Does she know you’re going to Vancouver tomorrow?” Jensen’s smile faded.

“I mentioned it yesterday.” He signed “Full disclosure, I’m not looking forward to it.”

“I know, but 2 weeks really isn’t that long. And it's not like you won’t be texting and Facetiming whenever you can.”

“Good point.” He sighed again.

“Trust me Ackles. I got a good feeling about this.”

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{} Reader’s P.O.V {}

Jensen and Jared made their way back over to the table.

“Mac it was nice meeting you. We will finish that discussion next time.” He held his hand out

“Yes, and you will see my side.” She teased and shook his hand. He chuckled.

You got up as Jared walked over to you. “Einstein.” He opened his arms.

“Sasquatch.” You said opening yours.

“Always a pleasure.” He said as he squeezed you.

“Same, Next time bring the wife. K?” you said sitting back down.

“Will do.”

“Love you buddy.” Jensen put his fist out.

Jared bumped it with his own “Love you more.”  He said turning to walk away.

“So, what are you ladies doing today?”  Jensen turns towards you and Mac.

You turned to Mac. “Uh not sure yet. Maybe hit some shops, or maybe just ride around and jam out.”

“Oh, yeah I wanna see this car.”

“Ok.” You picked up your empty cup and then grabbed Mac’s.

“Thanks, babe.”

“No problem.” You said as you stood up and headed for the trash can. You could hear them talking, but they were talking too low to make out the words. You threw the trash away and turned back around. You gave them a silly grin when you found both looking at you.  

“Y’all ready?” you asked when you got back to the table.

“Yep,” Mac said getting up. “I’m gonna grab a water. Go ahead. I’ll check up.”

“You sure?” you asked. She widened her eyes at you “Alright.” You started walking toward the street. Jensen wrapped his arm around your shoulders.

“Is it the Camaro?” He asked

“How did.”

“45-day tags kind of gave it away darlin’”

“He’s pretty huh?”

“He?”

“Yes, he. I’m still not sure of a name yet though. He smirked at you. “no.”

He chuckled. “You don’t even know what I was thinking.”

“Yes, I do, and no.”

“Fine.” He teased. “I still get to drive it right?”

You clicked your tongue, “Well I guess. 2 outta 3 ain't bad”

“Um, What?”

“Well, you played with my hair, and you do the nose thing, but”

“Really?!” you shrugged and raised your eyebrows. He stopped and spun you to face him. He slid his hand onto your cheek, “Baby you are so beautiful.” In a silly over-dramatic tone.

“Jerk!”

“Bit.” He stopped himself and pressed his lips in a tight line.

You gasped “What?!”

“Fuck! No, I’m sorry.” He closed his eyes and hung his head. “I’m sorry. It’s a Supernatural thing between Sam and Dean. Sam calls Dean a jerk, and Dean calls Sam a bitch.” He rambled on  “I really wasn’t trying to call you a bitch, it’s like a reflex. I…”

“Jensen. I know about the bitch, jerk thing.” You cut him off “Mac and Zoey do it all the time. I’m sorry I was trying to mess with you.”

“Seriously?”

“I’m sorry.” You brought your hands over your face. “I didn’t mean to.”

“Hey.” He said as he grabbed you and pulled you into his arms. Burying your face into his chest You inhaled the scent of Oud Wood. He tightened his arms, and you could feel the tension in your muscles melt. He sighed in relief. “I thought I really fucked up.”

“I’m sorry.” You mumbled in his chest.

“Sweetheart, stop apologizing. I’m just glad you didn’t punch me and walk away.” His chest vibrated on your face as he chuckled, and you couldn’t help but joy in.

“But ya know something Ackles,” you said as you looked up at him. He raised his eyebrows “You’re pretty cute when you ramble.”

He laughed and squeezed you into his chest again.  

“Can I take you out to dinner tonight?”

“Hmm, I don’t know I’m gonna have to check my schedule.”  You teased.

“I’ll pick you up at 6?”

“sounds good.”

He kissed your forehead then your lips. “I’ll see you later sweetheart.”

“Looking forward to it.” He chuckled as he headed for his truck.

Mac stepped beside you “You don’t happen to have a sexy dress for a fancy dinner, do you?” you gave her a blank stare. “Alright, let’s go.”

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{} Reader’s P.O.V {}

You could hear Mac cackling from the other side of the fitting room door.

“Aw poor Jensen,” She tried to check her breath.

You stepped into the lavender dress and opened the door. “Zip me?” you said as you turned your back to her. “I know I felt so bad.” Mac got up and zipped the dress. You looked at yourself in the big 3-way mirror, “I don’t think this one is it boo.” You said posing trying to like it.

“I like the black one better,” Mac told you.

“Me too, but it's so low cut.” You sighed. You walked back to the open fitting room door. Turning around you asked “Hey Mac you think I took it too far? Do you think it will cause..."

“No (y/n). I think you are overthinking this. It will be fine.” You sighed.” Stop he’s not like that and you know it.” You nodded and went back into the fitting room.

“Hey, how’s it going?” the sales lady asked as she walked up to Mac.

“I didn’t like the lavender one. I like the black one, but didn’t like how low cut it was.” You told her as you wiggled into another black dress. You didn’t like this one either.

“Maybe dresses just aren’t for me.” You said, opening the door.

“Oh, I like that one,” Mac said. “But you don’t. Ok next.”

“How many am I going to try before we give up?”

“We are not giving up!” The sales lady chimed in “I have an idea.” She started towards the front of the store.

“She is determined,” Mac said playfully making you smile. The sales lady made her way back to you.

“Alright, Try this one.” Then she handed you a white vintage western-looking dress. You took it and headed back into the dressing room.

You turned to look at yourself in the mirror. “Oh my gosh,” you said pulling the belt around your waist and buckling it. “Oh my gosh, you repeated.”

“Did we find it?” Mac asked.

You came out of the fitting room and twirled. “I love it.”

“Babe!” Mac said, smiling. “That is it. And your boots will go great with it. Aw, and he always calls you cowgirl.”

You giggled. “Well, how could I say no now.”

“Oh, wait right there. We got a necklace the other day that would look great with this.” She went and grabbed it. You lowered your head for her to put it around your neck. “Aw, you look incredible.”

“Thank you. I’ll take ”

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{} Jensen’s P.O.V {}

He wrapped the towel around his waist as he stepped out of the shower.  He made his way across the bedroom floor hurrying to get to his phone before it went to voicemail.

“Jay-rod.” He said after hitting the green icon.

“Hey buddy, I have some bad news.

“What’s wrong?”

“We think Odette has an ear infection. The only time the pediatrician was available was 2. Gen stayed in Houston they have another random acts meeting tomorrow.  What time do you have to be at the airport?”

“2:30, but dude don’t worry about me. Is she ok?”

“Yeah, I gave her some Motrin. It helped with the fever and pain. She’s sleeping now.”

“Ok, I hope she feels better, give her lovins for me.”

“Will do. You could always ask (y/n) for a ride, ya know.”

Jensen rolled his eyes. “I’m not gonna ask her to be my taxi. And I don’t know what time her interview is.”

“I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.”

“No.” he turned on his hair trimmer and started trimming around his beard.

“Whatcha doin'?”

“Getting ready for my date.”

“Oh. I’ll let you finish. Have fun bud, Talk to you later.”

“Later.”

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{} Reader’s P.O.V {}

You looked in the mirror when Mac finished your hair. “Oh, I love it.” She did a half-up going back in braids look and curled the hair that rested on your shoulders.

“Good. Now sit down and let me do your makeup.”

“Nothing too.”

“Yes, I know nothing too fancy. Plus, you have neutral colors on anyway.”

“Alright love,” she said as she finished. “You look freaking stunning!”

You stood up and looked in your bathroom mirror. “Mac you are a miracle worker.”

“Please. You’d be gorgeous without it.”

You smiled. “Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

“What time is it?” you asked sliding your boots on.

Mac looked at her watch “5:45. At least you’re not freaking out this time.”

“Yeah, not on the outside.” You heard the doorbell. “Early again.”

“That’s not a bad thing.” She said walking out of your room to go get the door.

You took one last look in the mirror and headed downstairs.

You heard Mac and Jensen in the living room. You took the back stairs to walk out of the kitchen. You stopped mid-step in the living room doorway when you saw him. His shaggy brown hair framed his face. That black suit jacket with brown accents and a black button-up shirt underneath. Black slacks that hugged his hips. You swallowed hard as your heart raced. He licked his lips, and a smile spread over his face.

“Well look at you cowgirl.” He said as he started walking towards you. “You look absolutely stunning.”

“Me? Have you looked in a mirror, Mr. Ackles.?”

“I’d rather look at you,” he said with raised brows. Your cheeks turned pink, and he smirked. “You ready?”

“Yep.” He gestured for you to go first. You started walking towards the door and he followed.

“Do you wanna take my truck or your car?”  He said shutting the door behind him.

“Depends, can you drive a stick?” He gave you an unamused look and you giggled. “We can take Beau if you want. I did tell you that could drive him”

He chuckled. “Beau?”

“Yeah, Mac gave me the idea.” He smiled when the realization showed in your eyes. “Motherfucker. Let me guess, one of your characters.”

“Yeah kinda.”

“Dang it. I really liked Beau.” You admitted walking to the car.

“What Beau were you thinking of?”

“Well, Duke of course.”

He came around to the passenger side and opened your door. Then he made his way to the driver’s side. He sat down and readjusted the seat and mirror. “Why do you have to change it?

“Because it’s lame to name him after one of your characters. Don’t you think?”

“No, and technically you didn’t name him after Beau Arlen.” He started the car. Beau’s engine purred. “He sounds good though. What year is it?”

“He is a 2019 Zl1 6-speed with a V8 and 650 horsepower.” He smiled at you. “Yeah, he’s badass.” Your phone connected via Bluetooth and Teardrops on My Guitar starts to play. He looked at you “What? It’s a cute song. If you have a problem with Taylor Swift, I don’t think this will work Ackles.”

“I didn’t say anything, I just didn’t peg you for a swiftie.”

“I don’t think I’d be considered a swiftie, but I like her music.”

He nodded as he put the car in reverse and backed onto the street.

“Don’t stall him now.” He squinted at you. He rolled along without any problems. He turned right onto Nuckols Crossing Rd and then right again onto Teri Rd. You stayed silent watching him drive. He caught you and chuckled. He Turned right onto N Interstate 35 Frontage Rd then merged all the way left to take the ramp onto I-35 N.

Once on the highway, he put the cruise control on. Butterflies came to life in your stomach when he rested his hand on your bare thigh. You took a deep breath.

“What no car games tonight?” He said, smiling. You couldn’t form words. All you could think about was his hand sliding up under the hem of your dress... “Babe?” His raised voice snapped you out of your dirty thoughts.

You answered with pink cheeks. “Yea?”

“You alright over there?”

“Yep. What’s up?”

“Whatcha thinkin' about?”

“Nothing. Just enjoying the ride.” Oh, and you sure would enjoy that ride. You relax when he downshifted to slow down for traffic and you let out an involuntary sigh of relief.

“You sure you’re, ok?”

“Yep, never better.”  Just thinking about how much I wanna jump your bones. No big deal. Traffic started to go. He got back on to the speed limit and set the cruise again. Your leg tensed this time when he laid his hand back on your thigh. Trying to stop your thoughts you took a deep breath.

“Does my hand on your thigh bother you?”

“No.”

He looked at you with a malicious grin on his face. “Oh really?” he slid his hand up an inch. Your leg muscles tense harder as your core twitches.

“Really.”

He slid his hand another inch up, stopping at the hem of your dress. “You know I can feel your muscles tensing up right?”

“And?”

“And so, I know you’re lying.”

“No. You asked if it bothered me.”

“Yeah.”

You smirked at him “That's not the adjective I would use.”

He chuckled as he downshifted to slow down for exit 234B then got into the left turn lane at the light. Heaven by Bryan Adams started to play. He started singing and the butterflies came back.  He slowed down for the next light. You sighed and looked at it at him. He smiled and kept singing. The light turned green, he grabbed your hand and held it around the shifter as he shifted into first gear. “Oh, once in your life you find someone. Who will turn your world around. Bring you up when you're feelin' down” Your heart melted as he sang along.

He hit the next 3 lights green and slowed for the fourth turning his right blinker on. “I should have brought your hat. It would look good with that dress.”

“Am I ever going to get my hat back?”  you teased.

“Eh maybe. I’ve grown quite fond of it.”

“It’s just a cowboy hat there sweetheart.”

“Yeah well, it reminds me of you.” Your cheeks turned pink again and he smiled.

“Well, can you at least tell me where to find it? So it's easier for me when I break into your house to retrieve it after you leave?”

His head raised as he let out a laugh. “It’s in my bedroom.”

“Hm. Maybe I should break in before you leave.”

He looked at you and raised his eyebrows. “That could be fun.” You giggled.

He turned as the light turned green and then left at the next light. He slowed down and pulled into the valet lane.

“Really? You’re gonna let some valet drive my Beau?” you teased.

“He will be fine.” You crossed your arms. “if anything happens to him I will buy you a new one.”

“Shh, you will hurt his feelings. You can’t just replace him.”

He chuckled. “You’re being ridiculous.”

You shrugged and started laughing. The valet came over and opened your door for you. “Thank you.” You said as you took his hand to get out.

Jensen handed the valet the keys and slipped him some cash. “Take good care of him ok?”

“Yes sir.” The man said handing Jensen the valet slip.

Jensen held his elbow out. You slipped your hand into it. “There. That make you feel better?”

“A little.” You said as the two of you walked to the front door. The sign read Dean’s Italian Steakhouse. “Really?!”

Jensen chuckled. “What? They have the best steaks here.” He said opening the door for you. You rolled your eyes and walked in. With the soft lighting and the chandeliers hanging from the ceilings, this place was so pretty.

His hand found the small of your back walking to the hostess stand. “Mr. Ackles. Your table is ready for you. She eyed him up and down. Well, I guess I’d have to get used to that. “Right this way.”  You followed the hostess to a table in the back corner with 4 chairs around it. Jensen pulled a chair out and gestured for you to sit down. He scooted you up and sat in the chair beside you.

“Pulling out all the stops tonight are we?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He grinned.

“Phil will be right with you.” She flashed a flirty smile at Jensen, but he didn’t notice. You had all of his attention.

“thank you.” He said. She walked away annoyed. You chuckled. “What?” he asked.

“You really didn’t notice?”  you said as you found the wine list.

“Oh, I did. I’m just not interested.”  He said, making you smile.

“Hello. My name is Phil I will be your waiter this evening. Would you like to start with some wine or a cocktail?”

“I’ll have a glass of Riesling please”

“And for you sir?”

“Scotch and soda please.”

“I will be right back.”

Jensen leaned back in his chair. “You really do look amazing tonight.”

You looked up from the menu and smiled at him. “thank you. So do you.” He smiled back. “You don’t need a menu?”

“Nope. I already know what I want.” He winked at you

Phil came back with your drinks. “Do you need more time?” he asked.

Jensen looked over at you. “Go ahead.” You told him. You debated between 2 dishes. You made your mind up and ordered after Jensen was done.

“So, I have a question,” Jensen said. You looked at him with raised eyebrows. “Where did you live before New York?”

“How do you know there’s a before New York?”

“You say y’all, you know the Dukes of Hazzard, and you like country music. I’m thinking somewhere south.”

“So, I can’t be a Yankee and like those things?”

“Also, you said you talked your mom into moving to New York after your dad passed.” He chuckled. “And you just used the term Yankee.”

“Wow look at you Ackles, you paid attention. I grew up in a very small town in Michigan. So, no I’m not from the South, but I inherited the mannerisms and taste from my mama.”

“Let me guess. Texas?”

“Did ya think she was randomly a Cowboys fan? We had planned to move back down here once I got my surgical licenses and certifications.”

“Was she from Dallas?”

“No, Canton.” You took a drink of your wine.

“So how did you meet Mac?”

“Oh, she’s from Saugatuck too.” He gave you a confused look. “That very small town in Michigan I mentioned.  I really didn’t think I had a shot at Columbia, so my mom’s college was my backup school. Mac and I both got accepted at Texas University. She understood that I couldn’t say no when I finally got my acceptance letter from Columbia.”

“Interesting.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” You took another drink, “Your turn.”

“Oh, darlin’ I really ain’t interesting.”

“Right.” You said in a sarcastic tone.

He chuckled. “What do you wanna know?”

“Everything.” His cheeks turned pink as a grin spread on his face.

“Miss your Seafood Risotto and your New York strip. Would you like another glass of wine?”

You looked at Jensen. “I can drive if you wanna drink babe.”

“You sure?” Jensen nodded.” Yes please.”

“Coming right up.”

You were looking at his steak as he cut it. “Can I help you?” He asked.

“Nope.” You looked back at your plate. “Just looks pretty tasty.”

He chuckled. “Ya know you’re lucky you're cute.” He said as he held a bite in your direction. “I usually don’t share my steak.”

“Aw, how sweet. Thank you for letting me put your meat in my mouth.” You took the bite, and he threw his head back laughing. “Damn. That’s a good steak.”

“Probably the best meat you’ve ever had in your mouth huh?”

“I don’t know haven’t had it yet.” He laughed again.” Oh, you meant the steak. Yes, it’s delicious.”

“Yet being the keyword there.” He smirked. “What did you get again?” You fed him a bite. “That’s pretty damn good too.”

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{} Jensen’s P.O.V {}

“Hey, what time is your interview tomorrow?” He asked as he sat down in the driver’s seat of her car.

“8:30. Why?”

“Just wondering.” Should I ask her for a ride? He debated

“What time is your flight?” she asked.

“I have to be at the airport at 2:30.” Or would it be harder to leave?

He pushed the clutch in as he shifted the car into first and gave it gas. “Is Jared taking you to the airport?” she asked.

“Well, that was the plan, but his youngest has an ear infection and Gen ended up staying in Houston. So, he’s gotta take her to the doctor.” He explained stopping at the red light.

“Do you need a ride?”

“You don’t have to.”

“Jensen. It’s not a problem. Mac has to work tomorrow. So literally the only thing I have planned is my interview.”

“I’d appreciate it.” He grabbed her hand and laced their fingers around the gear stick again.

“Like I said. Not a problem.” He heard her take a deep breath, “So any more plans for tonight Ackles?”

“Maybe. Did you have something in mind?”

“Maybe. Is your place far?” She waggled her eyebrows.

“Um..” Really? He was at a loss for words. “N- no, not too far.”

His body tensed as she leaned towards him. “Good.” His breath hitched when he felt her warm breath on his ear. She leaned back in her seat smirking. “Because I’d like my hat back.”

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[glader13]

Chasing Memories of You pt. 3

Miguel x Reader

Part 1

Part 2

“Lyla,” his voice slurred, “Play file zero.”

Lyla came to life, her frown deep as she saw Miguel surrounded by bottles. His eyes were hazy and drunken as he held a picture frame of you. Lyla wanted to say something but she knew that any word would spark an argument, with Miguel thinking that Lyla is trying to make him forget you. She pulled up file zero, which is multiple files of you and Miguel getting to know each other. They’re scattered, but each file shows a deeper connection between you two.

The first file begins to play and Miguel instantly recognizes your New York, seeing you fly in your black suit, the spider symbol in gold flashing in the sun. Your mentee, Gwen, was flying next to you in a red and black suit. It was here when he met you, answering the call of an anomaly in your universe. He viewed another one, instantly knowing which memory this was. You stormed into the medical area, to where Miguel was resting, insisting that he was acting reckless trying to save you, that he wasn’t thinking about his daughter, who needed him to be around. The argument was cut short when he pulled you into him, kissing you for the first time, breathing that he also needed you around.

Goosebumps then, but nothing now. He watched these files so many times, that all that they had created was a hole, numbing him. Taunting him of a reality that he’ll never have. As he drunkenly scrolled through the files, he came across one labeled as surprise. Even in his hazy mindset, he knew that he had never seen this before. He opened the file seeing more videos of you. He clicked on the first one, holding his breath as he saw you appear in front of him. He sat up, his mind gaining the clarity that it desperately searched for.

“Miggy, wait,” you mumble, pushing his mouth away, “I think I’m going to puke.”

He instantly got up, before walking you to the bathroom, asking you what you ate earlier. You told him the same as usual, but for the past few weeks, you’ve been avoiding greasy food, and eating more salads and bowl-type foods. Anything that you ate could set off your nausea, but at the same time, you wanted to eat everything.

“This has been happening a lot back to back recently,” Miguel said from the other side of the door, “It’s probably something that you’re eating.”

“Maybe the food in 2099 is made so poorly that if you aren’t used to it, it makes you sick,” you joked.

“Like your poisoned food is any better,” he said which caused you both to snicker.

You finally came out of the bathroom, telling him that you still felt the same. He kissed your forehead, asking if you wanted to sit on his balcony. You snuggled further into his hoodie as the two of you looked over Nueva York, the sounds of the city were peacefully quiet, as if a hush went through, and the neon hues washed you in warmth. You snuggled closer to Miguel, and he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you further into his side. He softly kissed the side of your face, before trailing down to your neck. You could feel the worry fall off him and onto you. In between the kisses, you felt him stare as if he could see what was ailing you. He’s on eggshells, the funeral was just only months ago, and he hasn’t let you out of his sight. He frets over you about anything, trying to control every aspect to mitigate any possible consequences.

“I think you should see a doctor,” he says softly, “I want you to be healthy.”

“I am,” you kissed him, “But what if it’s not anything serious?”

“Then what would it be?” His question was fragile, threatening to break under a possible reality. You stayed quiet, not wanting to voice that possibility, especially when he was still trying to heal.

“Nothing, I’m fine Miggy,” you smiled, “Come on, let’s go back to bed.”

He should’ve known then, he should have picked up on the signs: the nausea, the pickiness of your appetite, the slight plumpness of your body. If he had known, if he wasn’t blinded by grief, he could have protected you, the both of you. He would have put you on fewer missions, and made you do more lab work, hell he would have taken your watch away so you wouldn’t be hurt by an anomaly. He saw another file, his hand moving faster than his mind, as he clicked the file. Watching memories of you compares to a dark paradise, filling him with poison that he knows stops him from healing.

“Lyla,” she appeared next to you in Miguel’s bathroom, “where’s Miguel?”

“At HQ,” she said, “Want me to get him?”

Your eyes widened as you quickly said no, your hand clutching around something that Lyla couldn’t make out. She appeared closer to your hand to see, but you moved whatever it was to your chest. You let the toilet cover down, sitting on it, hunched over, quiet. You tapped your foot on the ground, your mind a mess while your mouth was unemployed. You wanted to throw the damn thing away, the reality threatening to make your lunch come up. Two months, the funeral was two months ago and you’re … You shook your head, ignoring Lyla’s words about your heart rate. You softly rocked back and forth, before getting up and pacing around his bathroom. One hand still clutching the small, but very significant change of your life, as you bit the inside of your cheek. You didn’t catch your reflection in the mirror, not feeling brave enough to do so. You tasted the salt from your tears, as you slid to the floor, what if he hates you, resents you for a mutual, intimate action? What if he makes you get rid of it, makes you choose? What will happen then?

“How accurate are your tests?” You shakily breathed.

“What tests?” And with her question, you reveal the pregnancy test. Her quiet was deafening, sinking you further before she answered that it was accurate, the most it’s ever been. But to ease your worry, she did a bioscan of you, confirming that you are pregnant.

“Well,” she began slowly, “Congratulations, but how did this happen?” You shot her a look, which caused her to sigh, “I know how, but when?”

“It was when,” you began to search through your memories, peeling back the layers of your brain, to the moment when the two of you were alone, “I don’t know Lyla, I don’t know what to do, the one person that I need, I can’t tell.”

You cleaned your eyes, thinking of what to say to Miguel, imagining how he would react. Would you have to leave him, be alone with your child? Your mind could only imagine Miguel’s face twisted in disappointment, or even anger. He’s going to hate me, was the only thing that you could think despite your heart trying to tell you otherwise. You felt as if you were in a headlock, not knowing if you should go or trust Miguel.

“You are going to have to,” Lyla said, “You’re going to start showing.”

“I… I know, but Lyla, you can't tell him,” you cleaned your eyes, “Please.”

“Of course,” she smiled.

You finally felt some comfort in the silence before you spoke again, “Do you think I should surprise him, with dinner, or a party?”

“Party,” Lyla smiled, “And we can get a confetti gun filled with pink or blue confetti.”

You nodded, cautiously smiling, your mind filling with the possibilities of a new future. Finally, everything felt like it’ll be okay. A new beginning for you both.

Miguel turned it off, unable to look at your face, unable to bear looking at the hesitation on your face about telling him about your pregnancy. It’s unbearable with you being gone. He took another swig of his bottle, feeling another memory from his mind appear, rolling slowly like thunder approaching a city. He was able to figure the rest out, how you were going to break the news of your pregnancy, a surprise party. But that day will be forever stained with your blood, the loss of his second family. That day, that memory, always bubbles up, it can never be defeated by the alcohol, by how many villains he beats into a pulp, by each thought of seeking another just so his bed won’t be empty. It’s always there, chained to him. He can never seem to forget.

He stood at the door to your apartment, taking a shaky breath. He’s going here to think. To think of how to tell your family that you’re dead, that he failed to protect you. He leans his head against the door, trying to collect his breathing as more tears fall from broken eyes. He didn’t bother to clean his eyes or nose, which made everything hurt all the more. He was startled by pink and blue confetti, and voices yelling “congratulations”! Miguel took a step, looking around as he felt the urge to vomit. In silence, he took note of the various baby decorations, pink and blue streamers hanging from the ceiling and on the wall. The table had small sandwiches and chips with the dessert being small pink and blue cupcakes. He saw lettering decorating the wall, condadulations, Miggy!

The smiling faces were choking him, closing in on him. He felt his breathing become shallow and shorter as if he was exhaling every time he inhaled. He leaned against the door, struggling to look at faces, especially your parents, he couldn’t tell them that he failed his promise.

“Where’s my daughter?” your mother laughed, she was holding a cake, “She was supposed to come with you.”

Miguel began to take large breaths, as he couldn’t stop his tears, the inky hands of grief pulling him down. He sunk to the floor, holding himself feeling a sick realization that this was how you were going to break the news of your pregnancy. At a party, not in his arms, dying. He painfully tore his eyes away from the ground looking at your mother, and he was drowning again, this is how you would’ve looked, aging with beautiful and graceful features. She knelt in front of him, telling him to breathe, as he was barely aware of her cleaning his eyes with a napkin. He pushes her hand away, he doesn’t deserve that kind of treatment, not after ruining her life forever, “I’m sorry,” he choked, “I … I failed her. I’m sorry,” he repeats, holding your mother.

“Miguel,” your mother’s voice is still kind, though there was a worried edge in it, “Miguel, breathe okay. Whatever argument you two got in will work itself out, it’s just her pregnancy.”

Oh, he wishes it was an argument. That means that he’ll be able to have you back in a matter of moments, he’ll argue with you about anything if that means he’ll be able to hold you again. She said to relax again, telling him to breathe, and he finally gave in to the despair, “She’s dead. She … died in my arms. There was an attack … I couldn’t save her in time.”

Your mother’s face paled, all the light, all the life, drained from her face. Her body slouched, the only sound was the plastic plate hitting the floor. Miguel couldn’t say anything, but how could he? Who would want to be comforted by their child’s murderer? Your father filled the silence, stepping past his wife and pulling Miguel up by his shoulder. Your father’s face was the opposite, lit with a fury that can only be caused by grief. Miguel forced his eyes to stay on his face, as your father demanded what happened. As he demanded to know why he let you die. Your father repeated the same questions, each time getting closer and closer to Miguel. Miguel felt as if he was set on fire, feeling nothing but hopelessness. Nothing else mattered, all was obsolete. Your father repeated the same question, but to Miguel, it sounded distant, as if someone was yelling at him behind thick walls. Even if he heard the question, he couldn't care less, your father isn’t the only one who’s grieving. The world was spinning, yet shattering around Miguel, he was lost in a haze. The last kiss that you gave him, your lifeless body, crushed him. Two people died when you permanently closed your eyes, you and the man who he thought he could be. He was right there, on the edges of his fingertips. Ready to be everything that you wanted, that you needed. But your death makes being dead alluring. You made death look like mercy, a dark paradise.

Miguel’s focus on you was shattered when your father’s fist connected with his face. The shock caused him to fall over, his hand covered in red from his nose. Your father shook off your mother as he stepped over Miguel. “You should have stayed away from her,” your father sneered, “Then she would still be here. You should have taken her place. She should be here in front of us, not you.”

“You don’t think that I agree with you,” was all Miguel said.

Miguel and Gwen stayed outside the medical room as your parents grieved over you privately. He couldn’t do anything, he wanted this day to be over, he wanted to go back in time and correct this mistake. He wanted to be the hero that you always thought he was. But you were the hero, always saving him, and he hates you for it. If you didn’t save him, then you would be here, and that’s all that would matter to Miguel. When his memory fails him, will your love abide? Looking at you, he knows that he’ll love you for a long time. If his mind fails to remember, his body and his heart will remember.

“Is everything going to be okay?” Gwen asks him, her eyes begging for a sliver of hope, “Are we going to be okay?”

Miguel blinks away some more tears before he looks at her, and he breaks. She seems so small, holding herself against the wall. Her small, huddled frame reminded him of Gabi when she was upset. He would kneel in front of her, clean her eyes, and tell her that everything was okay. He found himself doing the same thing, slipping so easily into father mode. It wasn’t hard for him, as your mentee, Miguel and you were her second set of parents. Going to school events and even covering as her guardians so her parents won’t know about her slipping grades or missed classes.

“Hey,” he said, cleaning her eyes, “We’re going to be fine. We’re going to get through this together,” he hugged her, “I promise.”

Just as he did with Gabi, to make her less upset, he would lie. He kissed the top of her head, repeating another lie of comfort as he focused on your dead body. He wanted to say I don’t know if we’ll be okay, at least he knows that he’ll never be. Without you, the darkness eats him, he’s not himself, and he won’t be ever again. He’ll love you for a long time, he’ll miss you for a long time. A wound that he’ll never heal from.

And now, he’s forced to watch videos, these memories of you that he’s slowly tainting with the desperation of guilt. He can’t let go, and he won’t let go. He knows that you would want him to, but he won’t. He’s in a daze, and he needs you, but you’re so far away. Across a sea that he can’t cross … unless. In his room, the soft beeping of his watch caught his attention, he stared at it feeling something be planted. Thinking of all that it could do, thinking that it was how he met you. He thought of HQ, of all the Spiders there, how they all traveled by that watch. Would it be possible … if there are Spiders from different Earths, then … He got up, opening a portal to HQ. He can end this, end this feeling of being alone. He’ll have a chance to go home. To be closer to love.

He realized that he was only someone with you. That only you loved him naturally, and he needs you, he has always needed you. This time, he won’t leave you alone, you’re his sun and stars, the air that he breathes. He’ll never leave you alone again. On his screen, he ran multiple tests, screening each Earth for your DNA, and bio-scans, essentially screening for you. He was in a headlock, trapped by you. He thought that he was better than this, but grief, no desperation was stronger. Desperation to protect, to bring back something that has been lost. Miguel finally felt something break, no, not break, he felt something resolve, grow stronger.

He will have you in his arms again, he can start again. He will start again.

The screen started beeping, indicating a match. He zoomed in on that Earth, moving past the people, his eyes quickly moving over the faces of strangers. He did another scan, this time to pinpoint where you were, which was a TV studio. Miguel felt his heart in his lungs, he wasn’t even sure if he was breathing, and he wasn’t sure if he was ready to see you in real time. He opened your location, and his breath was gone. He was gone, he fell to his knees, silent tears on his face, it felt like ages since he last looked upon your face. You were beauty beyond words, a force in the room. You were a goddess, dressed fittingly in white. He closed his eyes as he listened to you talk during your interview. He felt it all ending, his senseless grief, the hole in his heart was closing the more that he listened, swaying to your words as he was drunk.

He felt as if he was in church, on his knees in reverence and you were who he was praying to. When you would look into the camera, he felt your eyes, he felt your soul, and it was warm, feeling like home. He reached out, aiming to touch your face, only for his hand to go through the projection, your image briefly flickering. A bitter reminder of reality. At least he won’t be chasing memories of you anymore, closer to love, he found you again. And, in time, he’ll do more than monitor you as if you were a machine. He’ll join you, he won’t leave you alone anymore. That sea that separated the two of you disappeared.

“I’m coming home, my love,” he whispered to the projection, he whispered to you.

A/N: Writer’s block has me in a mf chokehold, I fear. Also, do people still read Miguel O’Hara fics???

[kpop-cakepops]

Hidden (Kim Mingyu X AFAB!Reader)

Description: angst. You get in a fight with Mingyu :,)

Warnings: slight cussing.

(Haha, not me writing after years of inactivity 😂😭, enjoyyy. Also, this is not revised, so excuse any grammar errors)

It wasn't that you were jealous, not even insecure... it was envy. There you were, sat in the loneliness of your bedroom, tapping through the private Instagram stories of your boyfriend at yet another function. His friends sat at a large table, enjoying their time with him. Time you were missing out on. Time that could have been yours, too.

With a dejected sigh, you drop your phone on your bed and get ready to hop in the shower. The stories had been posted 2 hours earlier, so it came as no surprise to hear the front door of your apartment open and close followed by your boyfriend's heavy footsteps coming in the direction of your bedroom.

You quickly busied yourself looking through your closet for your pajamas until you finally heard him enter. He smelled faintly of alcohol as his warm hands came in contact with your hips from behind. "Hi princess"

"Hey" your response was curt and cold and you knew you were being petty, but there was not a single fiber in you telling you be nice.

He noticed. He always did when you were upset. A sigh left his lips, and he stepped back, allowing you out of his hold. "What did I do now?"

You gave him a quick glance. He was now sitting at the edge of your bed watching you closely, like a math problem he was in a hurry to solve. "Nothing. I'm just tired" he could continue trying to solve it for all you cared.

If only Mingyu were the type to back down.

"Clearly not just 'nothing'" he insisted. "You're upset at me."

"I'm not doing this right now."

"If you don't want to fight, then at least do a good job of acting like everything is ok." now he was upset too. A small part of you wanted to blame yourself for doing this again, but the bigger part of you was hurt and felt left out. Things that a girlfriend should not feel about her boyfriend.

"Where were you tonight?" You finally met eyes with him only to have him roll his at you.

"Seriously?"

"That doesn't answer my question" you insisted.

"I went to have drinks with some friends, it's my day off." He finally conceded. "I didn't invite you because I thought you'd be busy-"

You can't help the scoff that leaves your lips, "bullshit" you interrupt. "Bullshit, Mingyu. You know my schedule. You knew I took today off- shit, I took today off for you and not one single call from you? Not even lunch?"

"Babe, it was a party for Lisa, and we all know you two don't really-"

"Holy shit, that's the excuse you're going with? That it was a party organized for Lisa, who I don't really talk to? At least fucking try to make sense, Kim Mingyu." You had said you weren't insecure, but you started to realize slowly that maybe you were insecure. This had never been an issue to you before Mingyu, you had never felt less than, you had never felt...

Hidden.

"Y/N I was just trying to save you an awkward time-"

Your eyes locked into his guilty black ones immediately, and as if by instinct you knew. "Mingyu, do they know about us?"

He stopped whatever bullshit excuse he was giving you, lips parted and eyes tearing away from your gaze immediately.

You hadn't been together for too long, but definitely long enough for his friends to know, surely. You had told all your friends by the time you'd been dating for 3 months, it would make absolutely no sense for him not to tell his friends after being together for 5 months... right?

"You know my friends know-"

You dropped the clothes in your hands and stomped up to him, shaking your head furious, "No, I know your members know. But what about your friends? Do they know that we're dating? Or am I correct in assuming that you are hiding me?"

You were met by silence. He avoided your gaze and stood from the bed turning his back on you, a hand tangled in his hair. "This is not how I thought tonight would go. I can't believe you're doing this right now."

"You're embarrassed of me?" You didn't mean for your voice to tremble the way it did. You hadn't even realized that your eyes were threatening to spill frustrated tears down your cheeks.

Your boyfriend flinched at the sound of your voice, but he didn't have the courage to face you. "Y/N..."

"Is it because I don't look like one of your super model friends?" You ask, "Or is it because I spend 40 hours a week holed up in an office? Or maybe because I live in an apartment that's the size of your walk in closet?"

He turns to look at you defeated, "Baby no-"

But it's too late. The seed of insecurity within you has germinated, it's grown roots, and they're spreading and wrapping around you at the speed of light. You can no longer keep eye contact with him. In an attempt to hide your tears, you pick up the clothes you'd dropped and start walking past him in direction of your bathroom.

His large hand grabs at your arm softly, "Y/N, please, let's not do this."

"I think you should go home. I have work in the morning." With a soft tug of your arm, his hand drops, and you lock yourself away in your bathroom, pressing a wrist to your lips, hoping that's enough to hide the choked sobs you'd been suppressing for weeks.

[roseandbee]

Negative temps are gonna make me nocturnal 😣🥶

[skunkes]

mentioned before I havent felt any tangible significant benefit from meds yet which is fine bc it takes a while to kick in but one small good thing i have noticed so far is even when I get little sleep I feel less tired when I wake up

I don't feel completely incapacitated and in need of being in bed all day, fighting off the urge to nap, to recharge.

I also 1. actually get "Sleepy" now... instead of just feeling very hollowly "Tired" and like i Should be going to bed to try to sleep even though I don't feel like it, because it's about time to be doing that I guess, leading to tossing and turning for 3 hrs before finally succumbing to sleep.

and 2. I actually doze off. Instead of forcing self to try and initiate sleep...this has only ever happened during my rare Naps where im so tired that sleep puts me down by force. Never in actual night time sleep setting... im like dropping my phone and struggling to stay awake sometimes now. At night!!!

None of this is in any of the results I've seen for the medication so i dont even care if its some weird placebo somehow 😭 im jst glad its happening

[tamagotchikgs]

i love how when u have long natural nails u can put them up towards a bright background and only see the pointed tips n they look like claws

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[jorvikzelda]

today i had this Vivid memory flash through my mind of kissing my ex boyfriend (this was like 2018) and i felt so viscerally fucking revolted and I gotta say. it is truly impressive that I didn’t realise I’m a lesbian sooner than fucking half a year ago

[weareweirdpeople]

Oh god why the physical discomfort is happening again. Why is it so tiring to walk or do anything. No matter how much I sleep, I'm still tired. I manage my diabetes well. Why does my body just make existing feel bad.

[hballegro]

alright here's the essay under the cut.

entirely just my experience w/ MASH, almost no editing [just spelling mistakes and a few apostrophe misuses]. fair warning, my father was [is] an alcoholic and a horrible person, and i mention that a bit, so if thats something you're sensitive to, bewarned.

         My story with M*A*S*H begins a hundred years ago when I was somewhere between 5 and 8, old enough to watch television but not old enough to remember how old I was when I was doing it. The childhood I had was overall unremarkable, marred only by my pitiful excuse for a father that parented by either drinking or being hungover on the couch in between screaming at his children or beating his wife. Unfortunately, he is part of this story, but only accidentally. See, he used to do all that stuff in our unfinished basement, on an old ugly couch, hiding from his family all day. Then, eventually, he decided he liked the couch and television upstairs better, and plagued the family room for many years instead, putting whatever he wanted to watch on instead of letting his children watch cartoons. I ended up liking The Three Stooges quite a lot, less out of actually thinking it was fun and more out of it being the only thing he’d put on that I found remotely entertaining, so I was taking what I could get. We kept the old burned CDs he’d made of them after he moved out.

         Anyway. My mother had (and still has) a television in her room (it used to be their room, but she kicked him out) that she could avoid him with. Not wanting to be around the violent cesspool of a person on my couch, I’d sometimes crawl to her room, so as not to let him see me and have him make me come over and listen to some music or whatever he wanted. Old guitarist reliving his glory days or something, I couldn’t tell you. But anyway, I’d enter her room and sit down on her bed with her or on the floor, and we’d watch TV. More often than not, she’d put on MeTV, because she watched those old shows with her own father, and it was a bright spot in her memory that gave her some escapism too. There were a lot of shows on there, but I only really ever remembered things like Gilligan’s Island, ALF, Columbo, Bewitched, The Twilight Zone, and, of course, M*A*S*H.

         I liked the other shows, of course. I remember them fondly, especially Gilligan’s Island, maybe it was the catchy theme song with words I could learn. I didn’t like how brown and gross Columbo was, but my mom explained that that’s just how it looked back then. I thought the puppet on ALF was funny, and The Twilight Zone scared me, but I was still interested. I remember enough of Bewitched to remember the nose wiggle and constantly mix it up with I Dream of Jeannie for some reason. Really, anything was better than watching the same episode of Farscape again, which I’ve heard is actually a very good show, but my father kept forgetting that he’d already made me start watching it, and so every viewing session was just the pilot. That’s also the reason I never learned Spanish.

         But then I got to M*A*S*H. I won’t lie to you and say that, as a wizened 5-to-8-year-old, I could ‘tell something was special’ about this show. It was a show. It was a show that I remember looking at my mom during, and seeing her really happy. Later she told me, after watching it with me in present day, that she would watch it with her own father, before her parents got divorced. Her father more or less was not present in her life after the split, and that happened when she was 14-ish. The show started airing when she was the age I was when I watched it with her, and she and her father made a weekly thing of it. Neither of us at that age should have watched it, but for both of us, it was forming a little bright spot in our minds, a good dream with a parent when times were tough.

         I remember laughing, even if I didn’t get all the jokes. I remember thinking I liked the shade of red one of the characters wore, and also the shade of dark blue the same character wore sometimes. I remember one or both of my siblings being there sometimes, laughing along. One of my siblings told me recently that B.J. Hunnicutt and John ‘Trapper’ McIntyre, both filling roles as doubles partners for Benjamin Franklin ‘Hawkeye’ Pierce, had merged into the same person in their memory. I thought that was hilarious; how could they ever think those were the same person! B.J. Hunnicutt had a mustache! Imagine my surprise re-watching season 4’s opener, ‘Welcome to Korea’, featuring a clean-cut fresh-faced Mike Farrell, lacking the horse brush I had so clearly remembered him housing under his nose.

         But the rewatching, yes, the rewatching. It started innocently enough. Between breaks at college, far beyond my young-youth, the real youth people mean when they use that word, my mother opened it up on the tv and put it on. No matter what era you go to in our household, the TV was always going. Most of the time no one was watching it, sometimes blatantly, loudly, explosively chattering and guffawing and gasping with our own business and ignoring it entirely. It was background noise, we all needed it, so we always had it. But something a little strange happened; my mother was watching it, as she often did when she put something on in the evenings to massage her brain to bed after a long day at work. I was typing away at something on my laptop, like I am now, sitting on the couch with her, which I am also doing now (although she’s long gone to bed), and I looked up.

         I saw Hawkeye.

         It didn’t feel like a rush of emotion, it didn’t feel like something important was happening. That was just my old friend. Looking absolutely horrible with the haircut he was rocking in the pilot, but I remembered him. The pilot doesn’t open with the theme, as I recognized that as soon as it played, it opens with golf, a little vignette of the camp before the choppers come in with wounded. I saw Hawkeye, I saw his shirt, and it really was like when you see an old friend, one you can’t really remember what all you did with, or where you met, or even each other’s names anymore, but you know they mean something to you. You knew this person, and you liked them, you liked them enough that even though you forgot everything else, you remember the love that was there.

         And it was a very small thing that happened, and it didn’t happen with every episode, but I would pause my music. My own background noise to drown out everyone else’s background noise, blasting into my headphones. I’d pause my music, read the subtitles, hear them faintly through muffled ears, and laugh along. Smile when I’d see a smile, and a little more than half pay attention.

         I went back to college, life went on, we only got maybe to the beginning of season two, but my mom didn’t continue without me. She waited, and eventually, I came home for the summer, summer of 2024.

         She put it on again, and the same thing happened. But this time, I way more than half paid attention. I really paid attention. By the time we got to Abyssinia, Henry, I completely paused whatever I was doing when it was on and sat, laptop open, head at a 45 degree angle to watch the TV. I’d still futz around during commercial breaks, but I waited for the commercial breaks to do anything now. More and more it warmed my heart, to see all these old friends I’d forgot about, drag them all out of the closet, finally see B.J. Hunnicutt with that stupid mustache again for the first time in over 15 years at least—it was all so amazing. I was laughing at this show that came out over 20 years before I was even born. My parents hadn’t even met yet when this thing ended. Then, of course, because of the way my brain unfortunately works, it is now all I can think about it, to the point I’ve convinced several people to watch it just by virtue of never-shutting-the-hell-up.

         And then? I finally got to see all my friends go home.

         I remember the night I watched the finale with my mother. We’d gotten to the penultimate episode, and we’d paused. It was near 8ish, near my mother’s bedtime, and she and I both agreed we could not handle the finale that night, it was too much. And so we put on something, My Name is Earl, anything to make noise, something funny, something light. That’s how the next several days went; do we feel like we can handle the end? No. Tonight? Maybe tomorrow. Maybe after dinner? It was a long day.

         But then, after dishes had been cleared and we were both sitting quietly, the sun had already gone down, and she proposes we watch it.

         So we did.

         I don’t cry at things anymore. I used to cry all the time as a kid, scraped knee, called an idiot by a sibling, way too much crying even for a kid. I got it out of my system, apparently, because now I’m an adult and I have trouble with making tears, and when they do come, they sneak up on me. The last time I remember crying was at my grandmother’s funeral, months ago, and before that, I have no idea. I get misty-eyed, sure, but nothing makes me boohoo.

         The same held for the finale. Contrasted heavily by my mother, the woman that regularly cries at especially-touching commercials, shedding a few for every other scene (the bus revelation, the final meal, Charles’s music adventure finale, the wedding dress, every single goodbye, and of course the big one at the end), I was mostly quiet. I remember it ending, and thinking, well, that was about the best finale I’d ever seen. I also thought about how I’d seen strikingly few finales, and that I ought to see more series through til the end. I spoke with my mother a bit about it, we had some good moments from the program tossed back and forth, and she went to bed.

         Then I took a shower, and after I got out, the floodgates busted. I was boohooing alright, blubbering too, but I couldn’t point to why. Sure, there were moments in the episode worthy of tears, but this was full sobbing, aching and pitiful and messy. I just left it as something not to worry about, and went on. Since then, on my own, I’ve rewatched select episodes, watched the finale (again) with the sibling that confused Trapper and B.J., done three paintings of stills from the show, made a miniature version of the signpost for my mom, and started writing again for the express purpose of doing things with these characters, and I’ve only now put a fine point on it. It’s a threefold answer of why I fell apart leaving the shower after watching an episode of television that aired 40 years ago.

         The first is simple; I have got it in my head that I need to be alright for everyone. If I’m happy, then everything is okay. I think it’s a relic from what made me stop crying, this need to tell everyone, “Hey, I’m the crybaby, so if I’m okay, then really, everything is okay!” My tears are (were) meant to be shed in private. They were my own cross to bear, especially for places like the bathroom where I could get privacy, as I shared a room with a sibling growing up. This is something I’m getting better about.

         The second answer is very warm; I finished M*A*S*H with my mom. I remember my grandfather, though he wasn’t too present in my life, and I loved him. He passed when I was young, but I was old enough to remember him, and his death date is near my birthday. My birthday is actually near a lot of either death-dates or birthdays of people that are now dead that my mom loved very much, so I am constantly reminded that my birth is the only good thing that happens to her that month. Finishing the show with her was special. We did it. It’s a tradition now. I don’t plan to have kids, but the future may be strange. At the very least, I know at least one sibling does, so I’ll just have to make sure their kids watch it, too. I don’t have anything of my grandfather’s, his family wasn’t kind to mine  and took pretty much everything when he died, but now I have this show. And I have this with my mother. It keeps my heart warm.

         And lastly, the thing responsible for the most boohooing, is that, like I said; I got to see my friends go home.

         I didn’t really think about it hard, but these were my little friends. I couldn’t remember them, but I remembered that I loved them. That they were something that made me happy, and made my very sad mother happy when I was little. They were funny, they were going through a very bad time and they were still being nice to each other and doing their best. They laughed, cried, cried some more, laughed some more. They drank, but in a safer way than what I knew of it at home, so it felt okay. They hugged, they fought, they loved each other. Then they were locked away in a little memory in my heart, and they sat there for over a decade, nearly two. And then those lovely people that made my life a little bit better finally, finally,

         Got to go home.

         A catharsis.

         Everything isn’t perfect, but all of us are somewhere better now. We have new problems. We have old scars. But the big bad is over. A little part of me healed. It was okay, finally. They got home. It’s okay.

         And if I can pick up a show from the 70’s about the 50’s that’s also still about the 70’s and the Vietnam war about all war that’s also about love and family and surgery with a cast that’s almost all gone now that so painfully soldered its place in my heart that watching the end of it all put me in a puddle on the floor of my bathroom at 11 at night, if I can wait 15 years and still manage to rouse these old soldiers and send them home, a little cracked but finally safe,

         I think B.J. Hunnicutt can drive those 3,000 miles to a little place in Maine to see his best friend. 

[newtness532]

okay i need to find something to crochet or knit or sth cause i really cant spend one more day just sitting in my bed doing nothing

[steviescrystals]

i seriously need to get a new job and start making money again asap bc i cannot keep living at home much longer it’s driving me insane

(wrote an entire essay in the tags without meaning to oops)