#king doesn’t look at you when he’s talking

[urmum-lovesme]

Angel Baby - Rafe Cameron x Kook!reader P11

pairing: Best Friend!Rafe Cameron x Kook!Best-Friend!reader

summary: Rafe and Reader have known each other since kindergarten, always side by side, the king and princess of Figure 8. So why now does he start feeling different towards her, when all she's ever been is his best friend?

a/n: My babies I'm sorry for the last chpt but it gets a little better (not really I'm a liar). Y/n is struggling in this and I love Sarah she's my queen. I hate y/n's mother, no further debate. Topper and Kelce blessing the situation with their dumbasses but most importantly what we've all been waiting for, will Rafe and Y/n finally talk it out even though they're stuck in a sticky situation.....? Read and find out BAHAHAHA.

p.s: I made a reference to a TikTok meme that's so big rn and a movie that's one of my favourites all in the same scene, see if you can spot them ;)

warnings: hospitals, mentions of sa and non-con, bad mother daughter relationship, being held in custody, emotional turmoil, tense conversations, crying, mentions of violence, alcohol, panic attacks, soft!Rafe (about damned time)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rafe sat at the cold metal table, his hands were cuffed, the sharp clink of the chains echoing in his ears everytime he shuffled his hands. He could still feel the adrenaline coursing through him, though it had long since faded to exhaustion. The night had gone from confusion to chaos, and now, sitting here, he couldn’t fully grasp how it had gotten this far. He tried to keep his composure, but every time his mind wandered, it drifted back to Y/N- how she looked… covered in bruises. His stomach twisted at the thought. How could anyone do that to her? And then Cooper- he’d done what had to be done, right? He’d stopped him, even if that meant the boy was left barely breathing. 

He didn’t regret that for a second.

The door opened with a creak, and Shoupe walked in, his heavy boots making soft thuds as he approached. He wasn’t a stranger to Rafe, or to the rest of the group for that matter, he knew them all too well, and he had a stern look on his face as he took a seat across from the boy.

“Rafe,” Shoupe started, his voice calm, “you’ve been here for a while now. You want to tell me what happened?”

Rafe looked at the sheriff, his chest tightening. He didn’t know how to explain himself- not without sounding like a guy trying to justify his own uncontrolled anger.

“I was just protecting her.

Rafe’s voice was low, his eyes meeting the sheriff’s. Shoupe sighed, rubbing a hand over his face,  “I know you were trying to protect her, but you’ve got to understand, the way you went about it…” He trailed off, shaking his head slightly. 

“You beat the hell out of him. That’s not self-defense.”

Rafe clenched his fists, his eyes narrowing. “What was I supposed to do, huh?”

I should have killed him that's what

Shoupe studied him for a long moment, his gaze softening just slightly. “I know you did what you thought was right, Rafe. But you have to understand, beating a guy into the ground like that? The law doesn’t care about intentions. It cares about actions. And right now, your actions don’t look too good. Cooper’s in the hospital. He’s unconscious.”

Rafe felt his chest tighten at the thought, if he died he was done for- so he hoped the boy survived, for his own sake of course. Rafe’s voice broke slightly, 

“He was hurting her… and I had to do something.”

“You did something alright.” 

Shoupe said, sitting back in his chair, rubbing his temples. “Now the question is, what’s gonna happen because of it. What’s your story, son? You’re lucky that Y/n is okay but you might be facing some serious charges.”

Rafe wanted to lash out, to argue, but the words got stuck in his throat. He could still see Y/N in his mind, trembling, crying, covered in blood. He couldn’t think straight.

“Did you talk to her? Did she tell you what happened?” Shoupe’s voice broke through Rafe’s thoughts. 

“You know, if she doesn’t back up your story, it could get a lot worse for you.”

“She’ll back me up.” 

Will she?

Rafe said firmly, though there was doubt creeping into his mind. What if she didn’t? What if she was too scared to speak? He couldn’t even imagine what she was going through right now, after everything.

Shoupe’s gaze softened. “I hope so, Rafe. I hope so.” He paused, then looked at him seriously. “If you want to have any shot at getting through this without more problems, you need to get your story straight. Don’t try to make excuses, be honest with me.”

Rafe nodded, feeling like he was in way over his head. But he didn’t care about anything else right now. He just wanted Y/N safe, he would face whatever consequences came his way as long as she was okay.

“I’ll tell you everything,” Rafe finally said, his voice quiet but resolute. “I’ll tell you the truth, I’ll uh- tell you what happened.”

Shoupe stood up slowly, giving him one last look. “Good. We’ll see what we can do from here. But right now, you’re staying here. Just… think it over.”

Shoupe left the room, leaving Rafe alone with his thoughts. He leaned back against the cold metal chair, his mind racing. He could only hope that Y/N would understand, that she wouldn’t be too scared to tell the truth.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sterile smell of the hospital room was almost suffocating. It clung to the walls, to the sheets, and to Y/N. She could barely focus on anything- her mind was swirling in a haze of confusion and fear. She should be relieved that she was away from Cooper, but all she felt was numbness, like her body had turned off in self-preservation. Her fingers trembled as she clutched the thin hospital blanket wrapped around her. She couldn’t stop shaking, despite the warmth of the room. The whole process of the rape kit had been a blur- cold, clinical, invasive- but the worst part was the silence that followed; the silence that consumed her now, sitting in the hospital bed, as she tried to process everything that had happened.

Sarah was sitting quietly beside her, offering her some semblance of comfort, but Y/N couldn’t bring herself to talk. She wasn’t even sure what to say. What was she supposed to feel? The guilt that gnawed at her stomach, the shame that twisted in her chest, and the confusion about what was happening with Rafe- she couldn’t sort through it. Sarah tried her best to fill the silence, her voice gentle and soft. She spoke about random things, about the date she'd been on with John B, about how JJ had almost burnt the chateau down trying to make an omelet, her tone casual and light; but Y/N barely registered it as she nodded absently, staring at the covers of the bed. Then, the conversation slowed, Sarah’s voice quieted, and Y/N could feel her friend’s gaze on her, like she was waiting for something. Finally she spoke again, her voice quieter now, almost hesitant,

 “Y/N, I… I called your parents.”

...

She froze. Her breath caught in her throat, and her head jerked toward Sarah as the shock hit her,

“What?” she whispered, her voice trembling with a mix of confusion and rising anger. 

“Why the fuck would you do that?”

Sarah flinched at her sudden outburst, but she didn’t pull back. She looked at Y/N, her expression a mixture of concern and understanding. 

“They deserve to know, Y/N… you’re their only child. They need to know what happened.”

Y/N couldn’t comprehend it. Her parents were miles away, on a business trip, and the last thing she wanted was them to find out about this. She felt a sickening knot form in her stomach, her chest tightening even more. “No, Sarah. No.” Her voice broke, thick with a mix of fear and rage. 

“Why couldn’t you just leave it? I don’t want them to know. I can’t have them knowing what happened-”

Her voice cracked as she trailed off, her eyes returning to the bedspread, her hands gripping the fabric of the hospital gown as though it could hold her together. Sarah didn’t press her further, but all Y/N felt was shame. 

Deep, overwhelming shame. 

Shame that she wasn’t able to protect herself, shame that someone had hurt her so violently, and now, even worse, that her parents would have to find out. They’d been away, living their busy lives, not knowing the horror their daughter had endured. Y/N’s vision blurred as her tears began to fall, quietly, silently. She wasn’t even aware of them at first until the cold wetness hit her cheeks. The shame was unbearable, her shoulders shook slightly as her body began to tremble again, the pain of it all seeping through every inch of her.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, the words escaping before she could stop them, “I’m so sorry I yelled at you.”

“Y/N,” Sarah’s voice was soft, trying to soothe her, trying to offer any kind of comfort. She gently placed a hand on Y/N’s arm, her touch warm.

“It’s okay you don’t need to apologise. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

But Y/N couldn’t believe that. How could she not have done something wrong? Her mind screamed at her, telling her that she should have fought harder, should have screamed louder, should have somehow stopped what had happened. She didn’t want her parents to know, but a part of her knew that she had to face it. They deserved to know. But the fear- the fear of their disappointment, their anger at tainting the family name- was too much to bear.

“I’m scared Sarah.” 

Y/N whispered, barely audible. Sarah’s fingers gently squeezed her arm in reassurance. “We’ll get through this, okay? One step at a time, I promise.”

But even as Sarah said those words, Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling that she was alone. Alone in this hospital bed, with everything she had endured, with everything that was about to happen. She sat quietly in the hospital room, the weight of the hours passing pressing heavily on her chest. Nurses would come in and out of the room, asking her how she felt, talking to Sarah, checking her vitals, but her thoughts were scattered, her mind in a haze. Sarah sat next to her, quietly trying to comfort her, but Y/N couldn’t fully engage with her because her thoughts kept drifting back to memories of the night- of what she could’ve, what she should’ve done differently. 

Get me out of here

She was snapped out of her thoughts when she heard the door open. Her heart dropped, as she looked up to see her parents standing in the doorway. Y/N’s mother, her perfectly done hair trench coat buttoned up to the top, looked as if she were about to burst into the room with the composure of someone who had rehearsed the scene in her mind. Y/N’s father followed behind her, his stern expression softening when his eyes landed on his daughter.

“Y/n”

Her mother said, her voice strained and much too formal. Y/n didn’t miss the way her mother took in the state of her, her eyes scanning the room quickly before locking onto her daughter. There was concern there, but also something else, something distant. Y/N felt her anger welling up, a bubbling knot in her throat. Sarah stood up, giving her space but staying lingering by the doorway, close enough to offer support. The silence between them was thick, her father stepped forward, placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, offering a silent comfort but she shivered at the feeling on his hand on her skin. His voice was gentle as he spoke,

“My sweet girl.” Her father leant down, softly placing a kiss on her forehead, his voice low and reassuring. 

“Whatever you need, we’ll help you through this.”

Her mother, though less expressive, sat beside her on the bed. She reached out, placing her hand on Y/N’s wrist in an attempt at comfort. It was a gesture that felt stiff, like she didn’t quite know how to be vulnerable with her own daughter.

“I’m so sorry this... happened.” her mother said, her voice wavering slightly.

“We’ll make sure you’re taken care of, I spoke to the nurse about moving you to a more…  secluded room.”

As much as Y/N wanted to accept their comfort, the weight of what had happened was still clouding her mind. However her misery was forced down by a bitter feeling of hatred, of anger, of irritation that she was now stuck with this burden leering over her. She took a shaky breath, then spoke with quiet determination, her voice thick with emotion, her words falling into the silence of the room

“I want to press charges.”

Her father’s expression softened, and he nodded in agreement, “Of course Y/N, whatever you want.” His hand smoothed over her hair delicately as he looked down at the girl, a small smile on her face, Y/N felt a flicker of relief at his words. But then her mother spoke, her tone skeptical and weary as she pulled her hand away from the girl and stood up, straightening her coat,

“Is that really the best idea, Y/N?” 

Her voice lacked the softness her father’s had, and Y/N’s heart sank as she looked at her mother.

“W-what do you mean?” 

Y/N asked, confused. Her mother’s gaze was distant, avoiding her eyes. Her mother spoke, her tone a bit too controlled, too measured,

“It’s just… you pressing charges will cause all this public attention. The media will make a circus of it. Do you really want the whole island knowing about this.” 

Her mother’s words hit Y/N like a slap. She blinked, staring at her mother, unable to process the implications of what she was saying. “What… what do you mean?” Y/N repeated, her voice barely above a whisper. 

“You want me to just… let him get away with it?”

Her mother sighed, a long, heavy sound. “I just think it would be better if we kept this quiet. The less people know, the better. No one needs to know about this. We can handle it… privately.”

“Marie-”

Who are you?

Her father spoke out looking at his wife with a displeased expression across his face. Y/N’s heart started to pound in her chest. She shook her head in disbelief, she had never expected this reaction from her mother,

“Are you serious? You want to cover this up?” 

The words felt like acid in her mouth. Her mother’s eyes hardened, her lips pressing into a thin line. 

“I’m not saying it didn’t happen don't put false words into my mouth Y/N, I’m just saying… we need to think about the bigger picture here. Our family’s reputation, your future… This could ruin everything.”

Y/N felt as if the room was spinning. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Her mother was more concerned about the family’s image than about her daughter’s pain and suffering. The hurt and anger surged up in her chest, threatening to overtake her.

“Are you kidding me?” Y/N muttered, tears welling up again. “You’re more worried about how this will look than about what happened to me?”

Her mother stiffened but didn’t respond right away, her gaze flicking to her father, as if searching for some sort of support but his eyes were already looking at his wife, narrowed slightly. Y/N could feel the distance between them widening, her own mother now a stranger in her eyes. Then, through the rising tension, Y/N spoke, quieter now, her voice small, 

“Do you even like me?” 

Her words hung in the air, fragile, desperate for an answer. Her mother paused, the words seemingly caught in her throat. After a long silence, she hesitated before speaking. 

“Of course I love you,” she replied, but her voice lacked the certainty Y/N had hoped for.

“But do you like me?” Y/N pressed, her voice trembling with the weight of her emotions.

Her mother exhaled sharply, clearly unsure of how to respond. “I… I want what’s best for you, Y/N.”

No you don't

The room fell silent once more. Y/N felt a sting in her chest, her heart aching as the reality of her mother’s words sunk in. She didn’t have the strength to argue, her father, sensing the tension, stepped in. 

“We’ll talk about this later. Right now, let’s focus on getting better, yes?”

Y/N didn’t respond. She couldn’t. Her body felt heavy, like every ounce of energy had been drained from her. Her anger was still there, but it was buried beneath the overwhelming sadness that had taken root.

She turned her gaze away from her mother as the woman walked out the room, looking at the window instead, as if trying to escape the four walls of the room she found herself stuck in.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rafe’s palm rested against the cool brick wall, his fingers clenching the phone tightly, his heart pounding against his ribs. He didn’t know what to expect next, but there was one thing he couldn’t let go of, one person he needed to reach. 

I need to talk to her

His eyes darted to the clock on the wall. It'd been hours since he'd been taken in to the precinct and he had no clue if she was okay, if they'd cleaned her up, helped calm her down. The last thing he remembered was her panicked eyes before he got into the police car, Shoupe roughly shutting the doors behind him. Yet most importantly, he didn't even know if she wanted to speak to him, would she refuse to take the call, what if he couldn't hear her voice from the other side of the phone.

“C’mon”

He muttered under his breath as he dialled Sarah’s number, his voice shaking with frustration. The sound of the dial tone rang in his ear, followed by the faint click of the line connecting. After a few moments, Sarah’s voice answered, 

“Rafe?” Her tone was laced with concern, “Are you okay? What’s going on?”

He swallowed hard, “They’re arresting me Sarah. I don’t know how long I’ll be here-” His words rushed out,  "-just give the phone to Y/N, I need to talk to her.”

There was a slight pause before Sarah responded, her voice soft and understanding. “Yeah, yeah okay...”

He heard the rustling of the phone being handed off, then a soft, shaky breath. The sound of Y/N’s voice was all he needed to hear. It cut through the haze, grounding him.

“Rafe?”

Thank God

“Yeah, it’s me,” he replied, his tone soothing, though he could feel the knot in his chest. “I’m at the station, they’re holding me but I’ll be out soon.”

Y/N paused before responding, her voice firm despite the tremor in it. “Are you alright? Are your knuckles okay? I remember they were bleeding.”

Always so observant

Rafe felt his chest tighten at the question. He’d forgotten about the pain in his hand, but hearing her bring it up made his heart stutter, reminding him of times when she would patch him up after things escalated at the boneyard. 

“I’m fine, they’re not bad just bruised up, nothing I can’t handle.”

She wasn’t convinced but let out a small hum of acknowledgement. The question was burning in her but she hesitated, unsure if she should say it, her voice was tense as she spoke out, 

“Has... has he pressed charges?”

The question hung in the air, and Rafe swallowed hard, his thoughts racing. “No, he hasn’t pressed charges yet. But I’ll make sure we do what’s right for you, okay? I’m just… I’ll be okay, don't worry about me alright- are you okay?”

Y/N paused, the questions weighing heavily on her.

I don't know...

“I'm fine, Rafe. I’m just… trying to figure out what to do. I’m worried about you, I don’t want you to stay there.”

Rafe’s heart ached. “I’m not going anywhere. Just stay strong for me, yeah? I’ll be out of here soon.” He knew the girl was lying, no one would be okay after experiencing what she did, but deep down he knew she was saying so not to worry him further.

“Y/n” He sighed, hand thumping against the wall in front of him, unsure if he should ask her this now, but he needed to know.

 “Are you going to press charges against Cooper?”

Y/N’s silence spoke volumes. Rafe knew she was processing everything, trying to figure out what was right. He waited for her to respond, his heart pounding in his chest, he didn’t want to push her but the time on the phone call was running out. Finally, she spoke softly.

“I don’t know, Rafe. I… I don’t know what’s best.”

Rafe clenched his jaw, frustrated with how helpless he felt. “Whatever you decide, I’ll…  -I’ll stand by you, no matter what you choose.”

Y/N took a shaky breath, her tone still steady but full of worry. “Just be careful, Rafe, don’t do anything stupid please.”

“I’ll be careful,” he promised, a soft chuckle escaping him at her concern. “But you’re my priority, yeah? You need to focus on yourself right now. I’ll handle this.”

“I just… I don’t want you to get hurt,” she replied, her voice soft.

I care about you

“I know, I- I won’t. I promise.”

They shared a quiet moment over the phone, both of them trying to find comfort in each other’s words, even though the situation was anything but comforting. As the conversation started to wind down and the phone was passed back to Sarah, Rafe’s voice became more urgent. “Hey, Sarah?” he said, his tone firm but still laced with the stress of the situation.

“This was my one call, so you need to call dad and tell him to come down and get me the hell out of here, I don’t care how, just- I need to get out okay?”

There was a slight pause on the other end of the line before Sarah responded standing from the chair near Y/n's bed and walking over to the window of the room, her voice lower now, not wanting to alert the girl,

“Yeah, I’ll call him,” she said, her tone resigned, “don’t worry, he’ll get you out.”

Rafe exhaled a shaky breath, relief and frustration mixing in his chest. “Thanks.”

“Just… hang in there.”

He let out a small sigh before speaking again, softer this time. “Tell Y/N I’ll be out soon, I don’t want her worrying about me, she doesn’t need that shit.”

“ 'course,” Sarah said, her voice softening at the mention of the girl. Sarah paused, and when she spoke again, her tone softened slightly,

“You know Dad will come through.”

He took a moment, her words sinking in. For the first time, he let himself lean into the comfort of her confidence, even if just a little. But it didn’t erase the gnawing feeling in his stomach.

“Yeah.. this whole thing… it’s just so fucked up.” He tried to keep his voice steady, but it faltered slightly.

“I know, Rafe,” she said, her voice softening with a touch of concern, “but you did the right thing- well maybe not entirely but you kept her safe.”

Rafe sighed again, hand rubbing over his face as more out of frustration than anything else. The phone beeped indicating his time was coming to an end, he muttered out,

“Yeah, well, I don’t think anyone sees it that way,”

“I’ll take care of it. Just don't do anything stupid, dad’s coming.”

Rafe ran a hand through his hair, his gaze fixed on the floor. “I’m waiting.”

The phone call ended with a quiet click, and Rafe leaned back against the wall, his mind racing. He didn’t know what was going to happen next, but no matter the cost, he’d make sure that that nobody ever placed their hands on his girl again.

Get me the fuck out of here

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The adults were deep in conversation, their voices rising and falling in heated debate over the next steps. Marie and Ward seemed to be clashing again, Andrew attempting to mediate, while Rose sat quietly, interjecting with the occasional remark. The legal jargon and logistics were swirling around Y/N like a cloud, but she wasn’t listening anymore.

She had moved from the couch to the window, the noise behind her fading into a dull hum as she stared out at the darkened sky, palm trees dancing in the growing wind. The faint reflection of the room in the glass showed her parents gesturing animatedly, but she couldn’t focus. Her arms wrapped around her body instinctively, trying to hold herself together. It had been a week since she’d been discharged from the hospital, Ward had gotten Rafe out of jail, although at a high price, and it was clear that Cooper’s family was anything but pleased at the Sheriff's actions. Now, both families were collected at Tannyhill, debating what they were going to do with the situation at hand.

“Hey.”

The low voice startled her, and she turned to see Rafe standing a step away, his expression soft. “You okay?” he asked gently, his hand reaching out to touch her arm.

She flinched. It wasn’t dramatic, just a slight jerk of her body, but it was enough for him to notice. His brows furrowed, and he quickly pulled his hand back, letting it drop to his side.

“Sorry,” he murmured, taking a step closer but keeping his distance.

“No, I’m-” Y/N cleared her throat, trying to steady her voice. “I’m fine. Really.”

But Rafe could see through her words. He glanced over his shoulder to ensure the others were still distracted before returning his focus to her.

“You don’t have to be fine Y/n...”

Y/N shook her head, her gaze dropping to the floor. “I just-” She hesitated, her voice cracking slightly. “I just want to make sure Cooper gets what he deserves, I want him in jail. I want him...”

I want him dead

Rafe studied her for a long moment. “You’re right,” he said finally. “He does deserve that but this,” He looked faintly to the room, to the chaos of discussions and decisions swirling around them. “this is a lot, Y/N, for anyone.” He hesitated, running a hand through his hair.

“You don’t have to prove anything to anyone.”

Does he think I'm weak?

Her jaw tightened, and she looked up at him her eye's narrowing slightly, “I can handle it.”

He didn’t argue. Instead, he nodded slowly, his voice calm. “Okay, just… don't push yourself too far, too fast. Whatever happens, I’m here alright?”

She blinked at him, her irritation at him faltering, “Thanks,” she whispered.

“Always.”

They stood there for a moment in silence, the tension in her body softening under the weight of his steady presence. Behind them, the voices of their families carried on, oblivious to the quiet moment by the window. Their relationship was rather bizarre. Of course both of them knew there was a distance between them, the event’s of Y/n’s party had not gone forgotten, however the girl was less hostile towards the brunette, her gaze often staying on him a second too long so he’d catch her eye. But she wasn’t ready for things to go back to normal between them, just because he’d… intervened on the night of halloween did not mean she’d forgiven him, not fully anyways; his words would sometimes linger in the back of her mind and after what had happened she couldn't help but think they were true. 

The room was tense, the air thick with unspoken anxieties, Y/N sat on the couch, her legs curled under her, as Sarah perched beside her, offering silent support. Across the room, Ward paced restlessly, his powerful presence dominating the space. Rafe stood against the wall, his bruised knuckles wrapped in gauze, a storm of emotions brewing just beneath the surface. Rose, sat with her hands clasped in her lap, her serene demeanour masking the tension she felt, Marie mirroring her expression. However Andrew, Y/N’s father, exchanged worried glances at the young girl on the couch, as though silently debating how far they should push his daughter on such a delicate subject.

“This isn’t just about what happens next,” Ward said, breaking the silence. “We need to think about the bigger picture. Rafe’s already been charged with assault, and if this goes to trial, it won’t just be about him. It’s going to pull Y/N into the spotlight too.”

Y/N straightened slightly her voice soft, “Because of what Cooper- did…?”

Ward hesitated before nodding. “Yes. That’s going to come out, whether you’re ready for it or not,” his eyes looked at the girl as he spoke out, yet she had to avert her gaze, looking away, feeling oppressed by the man's cold stare.

“She’s not the one who did anything wrong,”

Rafe snapped, his voice sharp as he noticed his father's gaze at the girl, “Why does it matter if it comes out?”

“It shouldn’t matter,” Sarah interjected, her voice rising slightly as she fiddled with the blanket placed between her and Y/n, “but you know how people are, they’ll twist it into something it’s not.”

Andrew leaned forward, addressing Ward directly. “So what are you saying? That Rafe shouldn’t fight this? That he should plead guilty?”

“Of course not,” Ward said with a scoff, halting his pacing.

God forbid someone stains the Cameron name

“But we need to be strategic. If Y/N presses charges, it could complicate Rafe’s case. They’ll try to paint him as an angry kid looking for a fight.”

“That’s not what happened,” Y/N said, her voice wavering as she looked at Ward shaking her head with a small frown, “he was protecting me.”

Rafe’s heart clenched at the girl’s words, his eyes finding hers amongst the uneasiness of the room. Ward sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I know. We know. But the court doesn’t always care about the truth. They care about what they can prove and how it looks to a jury.”

“Why are you all acting like I was in the fucking wrong”

Rafe said angrily, stepping forward as he gestured around to the parents at the table. Rose spoke for the first time, her voice gentle.

“Rafe, no one is questioning why you did what you did. But the law can be difficult.”

“So, what are you suggesting?” Y/N asked, looking directly at Ward. “That I shouldn’t press charges because it might hurt Rafe’s case?”

“No,” Ward said firmly. “I’m saying we need to think carefully about how we handle this. Your testimony could help Rafe, but it could also backfire if they twist it the wrong way.”

Andrew nodded. “He’s right. If we’re going to fight this, we need to be ready for anything Cooper’s lawyers throw at us, and considering their family deals with law I suspect they've already started planning.”

Marie, who had been quiet until now, glanced at her daughter, her lips pressing into a thin line. She rose from where she sat walking over to her daughter placing her hand on the girl's shoulder as she asked, 

“Y/N, maybe… maybe we should handle this quietly hmm? I know it’s not what you want to hear, but think about how much worse it could get if it goes public.”

Seriously?

Seriously?

Rafe's brows pulled down into a frown at the older woman's words, Y/N stared at her mother in disbelief. “Are you saying I should just let this go?”

Marie sighed, tightening her grip slightly. “I’m saying… it might be better to keep this private. No one needs to know.”

“No one needs to know?” Y/N repeated, her voice rising. “He- He assaulted me. He-"

Don't say it-

"Either way if no one does anything, he’s just going to do it again, if not to me then to someone else.”

Rafe moved closer, his voice low and full of conviction. “She’s right he deserves worse.”

Ward looked at Rafe sharply. “Justice isn’t always that simple. You know that well enou-"

"Okay!"

Sarah leaned forward, her hands resting on Y/N’s knee. “Can we just stop acting like this is a chess game? Y/N deserves to make her decision without feeling guilty about how it affects Rafe’s case.”

Rose nodded in agreement. “Sarah’s right. We can support both of them. We just need to make sure we’re all on the same page.”

Y/N turned to Rafe, her voice soft but steady. “Have you thought about what’s next for you- I mean, with Cooper pressing charges...”

Rafe hesitated, glancing at his father. “Yeah. I talked to the lawyer this morning. They’re saying it depends on what Cooper’s camp does. If they push for jail time…” He trailed off, jaw tightening.

Ward finished for him. “They’re pushing for jail time. Cooper’s family has money, connections from New York. They’re not going to let this go easily.”

Y/N’s hands balled into fists on her lap as she looked down at them, Andrew's worried gaze darted to his daughter as his wife's voice spoke up,

“Y/N, you don’t understand how this works. If you press charges, they’re going to drag you through the mud to defend Cooper and they’ll use Rafe’s case to make you both look bad.”

Is she always this much of a bitch-

Andrew reached for his daughter’s hand, his voice calm but firm. “Sweetheart, if you’re sure you want to press charges, we’ll stand by you. But you need to be ready for what’s coming.”

Y/N met her father’s steady gaze, a small frown on her face. “I am ready.”

Ward looked at Rafe, his arms crossed as he leaned back against the table, “And you need to be prepared too. Cooper’s lawyers are going to argue that you acted out of rage, not defense. I’ll talk to the Thorton's about it, see if they can help in court.”

Marie leaned forward, her voice softer now. “Y/N, are you sure you want to go through with this? It’s not just about Cooper. It’s about everything that comes after…”

Y/N’s hands trembled, but her voice didn’t waver. “I’m sure, I’m not going to let him win.”

The room fell silent, the weight of the decision settling over them.

Ward nodded, his voice firm. “Then we fight for both of you. No hesitation.” 

Y/N looked at Rafe, and he looked back, their mutual understanding unspoken but clear. They were in this together whether they liked it or not, no matter how messy it got.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The house was quiet again after the tension of the family meeting. The echoes of Ward’s commanding voice and Marie’s sharp tones seemed to linger in the air the voice’s heard from the nearby office, but now it was just Rafe and Y/N sitting on the couch. The dim light of the living room lamp cast long shadows across their faces, and the weight of everything unsaid hung heavily between them. Rafe leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands clasped together tightly. He’d been quiet ever since their parents left, staring at the floor like it held answers to questions he couldn’t answer. Y/N sat next to him, her knees tucked under her, fingers nervously picking at a loose thread on the blanket she held in her lap. Finally, she broke the silence.

“Are you okay?” her voice was soft, barely above a whisper.

What?

Rafe scoffed lightly, shaking his head. “You’re the one asking if I’m okay?” He glanced at her, his blue eyes tired but sincere. 

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

Probably

“I mean… yeah,” she said, hesitating. “But… I don’t know. You’ve got so much going on with… everything.”

“So do you,” he countered quickly, leaning back and crossing his arms. “You shouldn’t be worrying about me right now.” He stopped, exhaling sharply, trying to control the frustration he felt, not at her, but at everything else. Y/N looked to him, her voice firmer this time.

“Rafe I mean it, are you okay?”

He let the question hang in the air for a moment before answering. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I’m so pissed. I’m pissed at Cooper, at the cops, at my dad for acting like he can buy his way out of this.” His hand hit softly against the edge of the couch as he spoke, he glanced at her again, his jaw tight. “I’m pissed at myself for not finding you sooner, for-” His voice faltered, and he looked away, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard.

Get your shit together

“Rafe,” she said softly, hand moving slightly closer to his which now rested against the cushion of the couch between them. “It’s not your fault, c’mon don’t do this to yourself.” She shook her head slightly as the words passed her lips.

“You don’t know that,” he muttered, not looking at her.

“I do,” she said firmly. “You didn’t do anything wrong, you- you were protecting me.”

You saved my life what if he-

“And now Cooper’s trying to fucking flip this, like I’m the bad guy?”

He sighed, leaning forward again as he pointed his fingers into his chest angrily before he rubbed a hand over his face.

“And you pressing charges against him- it’s the right thing to do, but… it’s going to cause so many problems. They’re going to try to twist everything around and make it look like it wasn’t what it was; they’re gonna talk about you but you don't deserve that shit.”

Her eye’s flickered over the boy, noticing his leg moving restlessly, jaw clenched. “I don’t care what they try to do,” she said, her voice shaking with conviction. “We’re not going to let him get away with it.”

Rafe turned to look at her, his gaze searching hers. “Are you sure you’re ready for that?”

“...no” she admitted. “I don’t think I ever will be, but if I don’t… who else is going to stand up to him?” She looked down at her lap, her voice quieter now. 

“I’m scared, but I’m more scared of him doing this to someone else. I can’t live with that… knowing I could’ve prevented it.”

He looked at her, taking in the bruises wrapped around her neck, now a deep purple. He looked down to her hand, wrist tainted in the same coloring, a mocking reminder of what had happened. His hand moved forward slightly, fingers resting inches away from hers.

“You’re braver than I am, you know?”

No I'm not

She shook her head, a small, sad smile on her lips. They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of everything they were facing pressing down on them. Finally, Y/N looked up at him, 

“We’re going to figure this out, right?”

“Yeah we will, no matter what.”

Rafe nodded, though his expression was still somber. As they sat together in the dimly lit room, the sound of the wind rattling the windows outside, Y/N realized something: for the first time in days, she didn’t feel completely alone. The silence stretched between her and Rafe, heavy but not uncomfortable- just the weight of everything they’d been through present upon both their shoulders.

Rafe shifted slightly, his hand still resting near hers, he had the undeniable urge to take her hand in his but he couldn’t bring himself to do so, he didn’t want to overstep any boundaries. He already was overcome with relief every time she spoke to him, thanking whatever higher power that she would look at him rather than shut him out. 

I don't deserved it.

His jaw tightened, like he was working up the courage to say something, but nothing came. Y/N glanced at him, noticing the way his gaze lingered on the floor, the corners of his mouth downturned. The memory of their last real conversation- the one before Cooper, before everything else that had happened- suddenly pushed its way into her mind. The words she’d said, the way his voice had cut through her like glass, it all replayed vividly. Those two months that she had spent away from him were agony, and she wished it had never come to that. She blinked rapidly, her vision blurring, before she finally broke the silence.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

Rafe looked up sharply, his brows drawing together in confusion as he noticed the tears collecting on her lower lashes. 

“What?”

“I’m sorry,” she said again, louder this time, though her voice still cracked. Tears welled up in her eyes as she forced herself to meet his gaze. 

“For what I said to you that night for—” Her breath hitched as she fought to keep her composure. “For calling you a junkie I shouldn’t have… that wasn’t fair.”

Rafe’s face softened instantly, the lines of tension around his mouth easing. He opened his mouth to respond, but Y/N kept going.

“-and for slapping you,” she added, a tear slipping down her cheek. “I shouldn’t have, I never should’ve done that it was disgus-”

“Stop,” Rafe interrupted gently, shaking his head. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Yes, I do,” she insisted. “I was angry, I was so, so angry and I took it out on you but I shouldn’t have said that. I just… I didn’t know how else to handle it. Seeing you in his room…” 

She trailed off, biting her lip to stop it from trembling, her hand coming up to wipe the tear off her skin. Rafe’s throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. “You weren’t wrong,” he said quietly, his voice rough. 

“I shouldn’t have been there. I shouldn’t have been doing that. And I… I shouldn’t have called you what I did.” He exhaled shakily, as he turned his body to face her properly now, “That was so fucked up Y/n, and I hate that I said it I don’t even know where the words came from I- you didn’t deserve that.”

Y/N blinked at him, her tears spilling freely now. She said softly,

“You meant it though-”

“-no, no I didn’t.” 

Rafe said quickly, his voice firm. He frantically pushed his hair out of his face shaking his head at her,

“I didn’t. I was angry and so fucking stupid, and I wanted to hurt you because… because you were right. If you think that’s what I think of you I- I would be a fucking fool to think that of you…”

Her breath hitched at his honesty, and for a moment, neither of them spoke.

“I’m sorry” 

He said again, his voice breaking. His eyes were glossy now too, his usual bravado stripped away. 

“For everything. For that night, it was…- it was your fucking birthday and I just- I’m so sorry and-”

Rafe shifted beside her, his jaw tight, his hands fidgeting in his lap. Y/N watched him for a moment, her heart constricting at the tension in his features.

“What I said about your brother I-”

The memory made her chest ache, she looked away shaking her head slowly the air was thick with the debris of unspoken emotions. She didn’t know why, but suddenly she was back in her brother’s room, Rafe’s words from that night slicing through her mind. He exhaled slowly, his shoulders dropping slightly. 

“Y/N…please look at me…”

Please, please-

Her voice was trembling as it rose from her throat, “Seeing you in his room- doing coke- it just…” She broke off, shaking her head as tears slipped down her cheeks. “I couldn’t handle it and…”

She couldn’t find her voice to finish the sentence, her hand rising to her face once again to wipe the salt water off her cheeks. Rafe was silent for a moment, his throat tightening. 

“You had every right to be mad,” he said finally, his voice rough. “I shouldn’t have been in there-  I shouldn’t have been doing that. I- I shouldn’t have said what I said to you.”

Y/N lifted her head, her tear-streaked face meeting his regretful gaze. “You told me to get over it,” she said softly, her voice shaking. 

“...that I should just forget about him.”

Guilt flashed across his face. “I know,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I know I said that, and I didn’t mean it. I just…I was hurt because you were with-... It doesn’t matter but I wanted to hurt you too and I know it was a petty thing to do...” He ran a hand through his hair, his frustration with himself evident. 

“I was being selfish.”

Tears streamed down Y/N’s face now, but she didn’t bother to wipe them away. “It felt like everything you’d ever said to me about him was a lie. After he died, Rafe you were the only one I would go to, it felt like.. It felt like you didn’t mean any of it like- like none of it was true” She trailed off, shaking her head as she struggled to put her feelings into words as she pursed her lips together.

“That room is all I have left of him. And you just… how could you do that to me Rafe?”

“I know, I know- ”

Rafe said again, his voice breaking. “I was an asshole, and I hate that I said that to you, I hate that I hurt you I-” He stopped letting out a breath, he could feel the lump growing in his throat as he spoke,

“I’ve never regretted anything more in my life than what I did. Those two months we were apart, not a day went by where I didn’t feel guilty about what I said… I- I’ve never been so miserable-” 

A soft sniffle cut through the air, and Y/N’s eyes flicked up from the floor to meet his. Her breath caught in her throat. Rafe’s eyes were bloodshot, glistening with tears that slipped freely down his flushed cheeks. His chest rising and falling with uneven breaths, and his hand gripped the back of the couch like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. His other hand came up, roughly swiping at his tears, but more fell, relentless.

“I was so- fuck. I was so alone and I lo- I care about you so much I’m so sorry-” 

His voice shattered, and he dropped his head forward, the palms of his hands came up roughly to rub his eyes as the sobs broke free, raw and unfiltered. His entire body shook with the weight of it, like he couldn’t hold it in anymore. Y/N stared at him, her heart twisting painfully in her chest. She’d never seen him like this- so vulnerable.

What are you doing man up fucking man up 

It made something inside her crack. 

Slowly, she shifted forward, inching closer to him. Her hands trembled at her sides, the feeling of fear, terror of someone touching her, of touching someone, it still clung to her, making her hesitate, but the sight of him crumbling in front of her pulled her forward.

It's okay, it's just Rafe he'd never do anything to you

Her hand reached out, hovering in the air, uncertain, before she gently placed it on his arm. The contact was featherlight, almost unsure, but it was enough. Rafe’s head lifted slightly, his tear-filled eyes locking onto hers in surprise.

She gave him a small, fragile smile- barely there, but it was something, and that was all he needed.

Rafe blinked, and without thinking, she moved closer, her arms slowly wrapping around him. Her heart pounded in her chest, loud and anxious, but she didn’t let go. She pressed herself into him, holding him tightly, and for a moment, Rafe froze. Then, carefully, his arms came around her. He pulled her in, holding her like she was the only thing keeping him afloat. His chin rested on the top of her head, and he let out a broken breath, his body still trembling.

“I’ll never- ever- do that to you again,” he whispered hoarsely, his voice shaking. “I’m so sorry- I’m so fucking sorry.”

I love you

Tears welled in Y/N’s eyes, spilling over as she held him tighter. “It’s okay,” she whispered back, her voice barely audible. Rafe’s arms tightened around her, but his hold was careful- gentle in a way that made Y/N’s chest ache. His hand moved slowly, fingers smoothing over her hair with a tenderness that made her eyes sting.  

“I’ve missed you so much” 

He breathed out, his voice hoarse and uneven, barely holding together. Y/N’s grip on him faltered for a second, her heart thudding in her chest. For the first time since halloween, someone’s touch didn’t feel threatening. It didn’t feel wrong. She let out a shaky breath, her body slowly starting to relax into him.  

“I’ve missed you too” 

She whispered, the words fragile but honest. Rafe let out a soft, broken sound- half sigh, half sob- and tucked her closer, like he still couldn’t believe she was in his arms, he never thought it would happen again. His hand continued its slow, calming path through her hair, grounding both of them.  

“I swear I’ll- I’ll never hurt you like that again.” 

I love you so fucking much

He murmured, his voice cracking. Y/N closed her eyes, pressing her face into his shoulder as she let out a quiet hum. Neither of them moved to let go, they stayed locked in that quiet, fragile moment, holding onto each other as if letting go would shatter them both.

"Y/n I lo-"

A knock at the door startled both of them.

Y/N’s head snapped up as she instinctively moved away from Rafe, body tense again. Her fingers twisted in the hem of her hoodie, and her eyes darted toward the door like it might burst open on its own. Rafe noticed immediately. 

“It’s okay,” he murmured, his voice low and steady as he reached for her hand. “You’re safe yeah, It’s probably just Sarah or Wheezie.”

She nodded but didn’t look entirely convinced, her nerves still on edge. He squeezed her hand once before letting go and heading for the door, eyes flickering back to the girl who remained on the couch. When he opened it, a familiar voice filled the quiet space.

“Did someone order a party?”

It was Kelce, grinning like he owned the place, holding a cake box in one hand and a grocery bag in the other. Topper stood behind him, awkwardly clutching a bouquet of slightly wilted flowers, clearly unsure what to do with them.

“Jesus,” Rafe muttered, his voice slightly hoarse as he wiped his face quickly off any tears left on his cheeks, “What are you guys doing here?”

Kelce pushed past him into the house, offering the cake out like a peace offering. “We figured you two could use a little cheering up, s’been a rough week. Cake makes everything better, right?”

Y/N appeared in the doorway of the living room after hearing the boys’ voices, her nervousness giving way to curiosity. She looked at the bouquet in Topper’s hand, then up at him, a small flicker of a smile tugging at her lips. 

“Flowers?”

Topper shrugged, looking sheepish. “I panicked. They were next to the bakery.”

“Nice touch,” Rafe said dryly, shutting the door behind them. Kelce held up the box like it was a prized trophy.

“Chocolate cake aaannnnnd, because we’re such thoughtful friends, beer for me and Topper- ” He pulled something from the grocery bag, holding it out to Rafe. “-some bandages for your beat-up knuckles.”

Rafe stared at the box of bandages and rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitched like he was fighting a smile. “You guys are idiots.”

“You’re welcome,” Kelce said, completely unfazed.

Y/N stepped forward hesitantly, her arms crossed protectively over her chest. “You didn’t have to do this.” Her eye’s flickered over everything they’d started taking out on the kitchen table.

Are those hello kitty band-aids? 

“Of course we did,” Topper said, setting the flowers on the counter. “You’ve both had a tough week so consider this… a friendship intervention?”

Kelce set the cake on the table and began rummaging through drawers, searching for plates. “We’re not saying cake and beer will solve all your problems, but hey, it’s a start.”

Y/N let herself lean against one of the stools by the island, a real, albeit small, smile forming on her lips as she watched the two boys bicker over who got the bigger slice of cake. Rafe leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed, observing the scene. His eyes flicked to Y/N, who caught him watching and gave him a shy smile.

“Feeling better?” he asked softly, just for her to hear.

She nodded. “A little.”

“Good,” he said, his voice carrying a warmth that matched the moment. “Because apparently they’re not leaving until we ‘eat that damn cake’.”

Y/N laughed—a light, genuine sound that made both Topper and Kelce look up in surprise. “Hey, if you’re laughing,” Kelce declared, pointing his fork at her, “then we’re doing our job right.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of easy conversation, a brief reprieve from the storm they all knew was still brewing. For a little while, it was just friends and cake, and Y/n found herself forgetting about the events of the past couple of weeks.

Topper managed to pull up a movie on the TV, one they had all watched together countless times when they were kids. The flickering title screen of an old animated film illuminated the room, and the familiar opening music filled the space. Y/N looked at the screen for a second, her lips curving slightly at the sight of something so familiar and comforting;

 “I forgot about this movie,” she said softly.

“Yeah, we used to watch it all the time at my place, right?” Kelce chimed in, sitting down with his slice of cake. Y/N let out a soft giggle, a hint of nostalgia in her voice. 

“You’d always eat all the Twizzlers before the movie and end up falling asleep halfway through.”

“Hey, I was a growing boy!” Kelce protested, but there was no real heat behind his words.

“Yeah, well, it was more like a sugar coma,” 

Rafe teased from the other side of the room, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. Topper leaned back on the couch with a sigh, his eyes focused on the screen but his mind clearly drifting. 

“I remember watching this with you guys, like, what? Ten years ago? I don’t think we really appreciated how good we had it back then.”

Y/N’s smile faltered for just a moment, the weight of everything that had happened creeping back into her thoughts. She shook her head slightly, trying to push the darkness aside. “Yeah, things were so easy…” she said, her voice quiet. Rafe glanced at her from across the room, his expression softening.

Don't do that

“It wasn’t all easy,” he said quietly, his eyes on the TV but his mind on the past, “Remember the time we got stuck in Topper’s treehouse after you dared me to climb it without the ladder and I broke my arm?”

Y/N laughed despite herself, the sound light and genuine. “I never made you climb it. You insisted on it, and then-” She paused for effect. “-you screamed like a girl when you fell.”

“That’s because it fucking hurt, Y/N,” Rafe shot back, rolling his eyes but clearly amused. “And I was eight, so sue me.”

“Yeah, yeah, we all know Rafe was a pussy from an early age,” Topper chimed in with a grin. “But I gotta admit, that was pretty funny.”

Y/N snickered, shaking her head as she leaned back into the couch. “You guys were a mess, honestly. All I did was watch.”

“Liar,” Rafe said, raising an eyebrow at her. “You used to egg us on.”

“Okay, maybe a little,” she said, her eyes softening as she glanced at him.

“Good times.” Topper added, shaking his head. 

Y/N smiled faintly. “Good times,” she agreed, her voice wistful.

The room settled into a comfortable silence as the movie continued to play, and as the night wore on, the group grew more relaxed. The movie had long since become background noise, with everyone scattered around the room. Topper and Kelce were sprawled out on the other couch, barely paying attention to the screen as they were more focused on the conversation that was slowly developing between Rafe and Y/N.

Y/N’s feet were comfortably resting next to Rafe’s lap, her body slumped into the couch as exhaustion from the past few days started to settle in. It had been an emotional rollercoaster, but right now, in this peaceful moment, she felt safe. Rafe absentmindedly rested his hand on her foot, his touch comforting and steady. Kelce, catching sight of their proximity, exchanged a knowing look with Topper. They were both silent for a beat, as if contemplating whether to ask the question hanging in the air. Finally, Topper broke the silence with a raised eyebrow. 

“So…” He gave a small grin. “We didn’t want to ask before, but are you two, good now? I mean, last time we checked, it was a bit…”

Rafe and Y/N exchanged glances. She couldn’t help but smile, a warmth blossoming in her chest at the question. Rafe returned her gaze, his expression softening as he squeezed her  foot gently, a silent reassurance.

“We’re good,” Rafe said, his voice steady, though there was a hint of relief in it as he glanced down at Y/N, giving her a quiet smile. Y/N nodded slowly, her lips curving upward humming back in agreement. Kelce raised an eyebrow but didn’t press any further, exchanging a knowing glance with Topper. 

“Well, good,” Kelce said, his tone light but with an edge of relief. “About time, right?”

Smug assholes

Topper smiled. “We were both waiting for that.”

The weight of the past few days hadn’t disappeared, but in this moment, surrounded by the people who cared about her and Rafe, it felt a little bit lighter. However the comfort couldn’t stay forever, the atmosphere shifted once again, this time taking a more serious turn. Topper and Kelce were leaning forward on the couch now, their attention focused on Rafe and Y/N, ready to face the reality of what was happening.

“So… Cooper’s pressing charges against you?” 

Party's over

Kelce asked, his tone trying to sound casual but not fully hiding the tension in his voice. Rafe’s eyes flicked briefly to Y/N before he answered.

 “Yeah. He’s pressing charges,” Rafe muttered, his jaw clenching slightly as if the words left a bitter taste in his mouth. “But we’re gonna handle it.”

Y/N looked over at him, her gaze heavy with both concern and support. “And um… I’m going to press charges against him,” she said quietly, “you know, for what he did...”

The room grew heavy with the weight of her words, Topper and Kelce exchanged an uncertain glance, the truth of the situation sinking in as they processed her decision.

“You sure about that?” Topper asked, his voice quieter than usual, a note of concern underlining his words. Y/N nodded slowly.

“Yeah. I have to, I can’t let him get away with it.”

Topper nodded at her in support, “I’ll see if I can get my pop’s in the court for the hearing… I doubt the Millers will know about him being family.”

Rafe looked at him, his lips pursed as he turned to the girl, sending her a small reassuring smile. “We’ve got your back, always,” his voice was steady despite the turmoil around them. 

For a moment, Y/N felt herself ease slightly, the weight of her upcoming choices lessened by boys’ presence, their unspoken promise to stand with her. However, when a new question arose in her mind she hesitated for a moment, her fingers nervously tapping on the armrest as she swallowed hard, trying to find her voice. 

“Do people… do people know?” 

Please say no

Her voice cracked just slightly, the raw vulnerability in her words making everyone in the room pause. Topper and Kelce looked at each other, uncertainty flickering between them. Neither knew how to answer immediately, neither of them wanted to add to her problems, but Y/N could see it in their eyes, and she knew she was bound to hear something she didn't want to. She sat up a little, her heart pounding, and looked at them, almost pleading with her eyes.

“Please,” she said, “tell me the truth.”

Topper sighed, looking down before he looked back up at her. “Yeah. People know… There’s been talk. There was a video… of you, uh, crying.” He winced, as if just saying it was enough to make him uncomfortable. “We don’t know how much it’s been spread, but…” He trailed off, not wanting to say more, but the reality was clear.

Y/N’s hand immediately came up to her face, biting the nail of her thumb to try to block out the sting of embarrassment. She felt her chest tighten, the overwhelming shame flooding in once again. 

She hadn’t been prepared for this.

“It’s… it’s not just you crying…” 

-what?

-what?

Kelce continued, choosing his words carefully. “It’s after Rafe broke down the door, when he found you… your nose’s bleeding, and your dress is uh- well it’s ripped. Someone caught it on their phone.”

Y/N froze, her stomach churning. She felt like the world was crumbling around her. The image they painted in her mind of that moment made her stomach twist in shame. She couldn’t help the feeling of being completely exposed, the thought of others seeing her in such a vulnerable state made her feel sick. The image she’d worked so hard to create, of the perfect ‘Kook Princess’ was no longer valid, and she knew that everyone knew that. Her breath caught in her throat, and she fought the urge to cry, the weight of the situation heavier than she’d imagined. She closed her eyes, trying to block out the reality of it all,  her voice barely escaped, merely a whisper,

“I didn’t want anyone to see that…”

Topper gave a small, understanding nod, his voice softer now. “Listen,” he started gently, “I know it’s a lot to deal with, and I’m sorry, but…” He paused, searching for the right words.

 “Most people, they’re on your side, Y/N, they’re behind you.”

Y/N’s gaze lifted from her hands, her eyes still clouded with shame, but there was a flicker of something else in her expression now. “You really think so?” she asked quietly, barely above a whisper. Kelce, noticing the shift in her demeanor, leaned forward, his expression softening,

“Look- Kooks, Pogues, they’re all behind you, Y/N. People care. Last week at the country club, apparently Matty overheard someone talking shit about it and uh- you remember Elijah?”

“The guy who crushed his dad’s yacht?” Rafe asked, his eyebrows drawing down in curiosity. 

“Yeah yeah, you remember?” He looked over to the girl who sent him a small nod in return.

“So Elijah called this guy out in front of everyone there, gave him a lecture, said he was a ‘shit talker with no future’, I really wish I was there. And then- imagine this- management escorted the guy out and revoked his family's membership.” 

Her brows raised as the boy finished talking, taken aback by the story, taken aback by the fact that people were so involved in what had happened, and not in the way she was expecting. “Yeah,” Kelce confirmed, his voice firm but kind as he noticed the girl's surprise,

“People see what happened to you, and they’re with you, not with him.”

For a moment, Y/N stayed silent, processing their words. She had been so worried about the fallout, the judgment, the rumors. But hearing that people were on her side, eased the tight knot in her chest, just a little. She looked at Rafe, her words a little shaky.

“I just… I feel like everyone’s seeing me as something I’m not.”

“You’re not defined by that video, or by anyone else’s opinions. We’ll make sure of that.” Rafe’s voice spoke out, low and soothing.

I'll make sure of it

Y/N took a deep breath, wiping her face with the back of her hand, the sting of her earlier tears still there but the fire of resolve slowly taking its place. “Thanks,” she said softly to the guys, her voice quiet. 

“It helps… hearing that.”

Topper and Kelce exchanged another glance. They could see how much this was hurting her, and while they couldn’t fight this battle for her, they had her back, she was like their sister.

Topper cleared his throat, his voice low but firm. “We’re with you, Y/N. No matter what.”

Kelce shook his head in agreement, then smirked. “Yeah, and if anyone’s got a problem with you, they can catch these hands… or Topper’s.”

“Yeah cause you cry like a bitch when you bruise your knuckles”

“Man shut the fuck up”

Y/n rolled her eyes amused at their banter, but she had a nagging question at the back of her mind, from the moment they told her about the video. She cleared her throat as she spoke, 

“Whose video was it?”

Topper and Kelce stopped shoving each other pausing in hesitance, neither of them seemed to have an answer. “I don’t know,” Topper admitted, scratching the back of his head. “It’s just kind of circulating, you know? People saw it and… well, it got around.”

“Have you guys… do you have it?” she asked, a growing sense of urgency in her tone as she picked at the skin on her thumb. Topper’s face turned serious, and he shifted uncomfortably.

“Look, Y/N, maybe it’s best if you don’t see it. Honestly…” He trailed off, unsure of how to finish the sentence. Kelce nodded in agreement, glancing down at his phone, his discomfort palpable.

 “Yeah, it’s… it’s pretty bad. We didn’t want you to have to relive that.”

“Please,” she said, her voice stronger now, her eyes pleading.

“Y/n-” Rafe spoke out his hand pushing his hair out of the way. He knew the girl was desperate to see what everyone else had but something gnawed at him, a feeling of unease which made him cautious about the girl seeing the footage.

Don't do this to yourself

 “Send it to me, I deserve to see it. It’s not fair that everyone else has seen it but I haven't.”

Topper and Kelce exchanged glances, both of them hesitating for a moment longer looking over to the boy sitting next to Y/n in uncertainty but he simply let out a sigh, his head nodding ever so slightly, so they reluctantly agreed. Kelce fingers worked upon the screen of his phone, and in seconds her pocket was vibrating. She pulled her phone out of her pocket with sweaty palms, her fingers were shaky as she clicked on the message the video opened. 

Her heart sank as the footage played before her eyes.

There she was- barely clothed, a version of herself she barely recognized. Her face was blotched with dried blood, streaked across her hairline and crusted beneath her nose. Her cheeks were stained with tears,, body visibly trembling; the video on the screen was muted, but she didn’t need sound to know she was sobbing because her chest heaved in shallow, rapid breaths, her lips quivering. Her dress- once something soft and beautiful- hung in tatters. The delicate ribbons that once tied it together were shredded, barely clinging to her shoulders by fraying threads. The fabric was torn and wrinkled, offering little coverage, leaving her exposed in a way that made her stomach turn. She stared at the screen, frozen, unable to tear her eyes away.

Oh my God-

And suddenly, it wasn’t just a video. It was real again.

The cold floor under her skin, the crushing weight on her chest, the way her limbs felt so heavy, so useless. The panic, the fear, the suffocating helplessness, It all slammed into her at once, like a tidal wave she hadn’t been bracing for.

Her breath hitched painfully in her throat.

Until now, it hadn’t felt real. In the days after the party, her mind had blurred it out, like a fog rolling in to protect her from the truth. She hadn’t let herself think about it—not fully. Whenever the memories clawed their way to the surface, her brain shut them down, drowning them in static. Now, the reality of what Cooper had actually done to her hit her with full force. Without thinking, she got up suddenly, her hand trembling as she gripped the phone. Rafe’s voice was full of concern as he jumped to his feet, trying to keep up with her.

 “Woah, woah, slow down, what’s going on?”

“This is-,” Y/N said quickly, her voice quivering. “-this is evidence we can use in court.”

Rafe looked at the girl, not taking his eyes off her slightly jittery frame as he processed what she was saying. The urgency in her voice made it clear that she was ready to expose herself for a chance to take control of the situation but he wasn't sure this was a good idea. Topper stood up from his seat, clearly concerned by the girls reaction, of course he was happy that people’s crude invasion of her privacy was going to at least help in some way, however from the way she gripped the phone in her quivering hold, her eyes flickering down to it’s lit up screen repeatedly he could tell she was on edge. His brows drew down slightly as he opened his mouth to speak out but the girl swiftly turned away from the boys and made her way toward the stairs. Rafe, sensing the urgency in her movements, followed closely behind her.

Shit

“Hey wait! Where are you going?” 

He asked as he jogged up to her, his voice a mix of concern and confusion, as his legs moved quickly to keep by her side. Y/N didn’t stop to look back as she continued up the stairs, the video replaying in her hand. Her eyes were glued to the screen, her fingers tightening around her phone. She didn’t answer immediately, her mind focused on one thing,

“We need to show Ward,” she said, her voice almost distant, “We need to show him, so he can send it to the lawyers. It’s… it’s evidence.”

Her steps were steady at first, but as she ascended the staircase, her breathing began to quicken. The video on her phone flickered in her hands, and the reality of what was being shown to her- of what had happened- slowly started to grow heavier. She hadn’t realised it before, but the anxiety was creeping up on her, a tidal wave of panic hitting her chest with every step. Rafe noticed immediately. Her breathing was irregular, quick and shallow, like she was struggling to catch her breath. He’d seen this before- seen her tense up like this, and he knew what was coming.

Shit-

“Hey, hey, slow down,”

 Rafe said, his voice firm but gentle. Y/N didn’t hear him at first, her focus still fixated on the screen, her hand holding it as her eyes watched the repeating video as if it might change the painful reality flashing before her eyes. But Rafe, sensing her distress, stepped in front of her, his hand gently took the phone from hers, switching it off and slipping it into his back pocket,

 “Y/N, hey, look at me, how about you come sit with me, hmm?”

She shook her head, her hands still trembling, but Rafe didn’t let go, he held his hand out for her to take, his voice unwavering. 

I can't, I can't-

“Look at me. Slow down, okay?”

Her breathing was erratic now, chest rising and falling with rapid, uneven gasps. She barely noticed the way her hand was clutching her chest 

“Rafe…” Y/N whispered, her hand now twisting the material of her hoodie in her grasp, her breath shallow and quick. 

“I… I can’t breathe.”

She leaned against the railing, trying to steady herself, her heart pounding in her chest. Rafe’s eyes softened as he took a step closer her,

“It’s okay, Its okay here-” 

He took her hand softly, the panic starting to make her dizzy. She nodded slowly, and Rafe guided her to sit down on the stairs. She lowered herself carefully, her legs feeling weak, and Rafe followed her, sitting a step below her so they were facing each other, still holding her hand to try and ground her.

“Breathe with me,” he reassured her, his voice low and steady. Y/N’s eyes locked onto his, and  took a breath in. But it wasn’t enough. Her chest felt tight. Her jaw tightened as she shook her head at him, chest rising and falling as exasperating breaths past her lips.

I can't do this- fuck

“No? That's okay” 

He watched the girl as she squeezed her eyes shut, the hand that wasn’t holding onto his was gripping the railing of the banister, his heart clenched as he searched his mind for a way to help her. When he first started going to the therapist Y/n had recommended to him to help with his addiction, Rafe had told him about his lack of control over his emotions, over his actions. He thought it was pointless, because how was a random man he didn't know meant to help him with his problems, when he didn't even understand what he was going through. The therapist had taught him about calming strategies, about the importance of grounding yourself and momentarily, the boy doubted the man’s techniques, he thought they were stupid, but now as he sat here in front of the hyperventilating girl in front of him, he couldn't help but think he needed to send the man a thank you note. 

“Just want you to focus on me okay? Can you do that for me Y/n?” 

The boy squeezed her hand gently trying to get her attention as he saw the tear roll down her cheek, the girl’s mind clearly spiraling as she struggled to catch her breath. Her eyes fluttered open as she looked at Rafe infront of her, her head moving up and down in a frantic gesture.

“I want you to tell me three things you can hear,” he instructed gently, observing as she nodded, closing her eyes for a moment, trying to center herself as her brows drew down into a small frown of focus. 

“I can hear the TV downstairs, my uh- my heartbeat and, and I c-can hear your voice.”

Her words were breathless and her eyes were closed but Rafe smiled at her anyways, “Good job,” he encouraged. 

“Now, tell me three things you can feel.”

She took a another shaky breath the grip on her hoodie loosened slightly, as her eyes squeezed together, 

“The stairs,” she murmured. “my chest… my heart and… your hand…it’s warm- in mine.”

Rafe nodded, squeezing her hand gently. “Doing so good my sweet girl. Can you do one more for me?”

She could still feel the pressure in her chest, but her breathing had calmed, her lightheadedness retreating, she nodded her head slightly in a ‘yes’. 

“What do you see right in front of you?” 

Rafe’s voice rang out in her ears and her eyes fluttered open, squinting slightly to adjust to the light before opening fully. She looked around, trying to focus on the details, but her eyes landed on what was right in front of her. She spoke softly, her voice shaking slightly.

“You” 

Rafe’s lips curled into a faint, comforting smile, “What about me?”

Y/N didn’t hesitate this time, her voice steady, “Your eyes.”

“You’ve always had a thing for my eyes, huh?” He chuckled softly, his smile widening as he leaned in a little closer. She nodded, the faintest blush rising on her cheeks. 

“Always” 

Rafe’s smile softened, his hand still holding hers, a gesture that felt oddly comforting in the midst of everything. He leaned back against the stairs, still close but giving her space to breathe. 

“Take your time, don’t push yourself so much Princess.”

Her brows drew down slightly as the nickname passed his lips. 

Please don't call me that

She let out a shaky breath, her shoulders still tense. She turned her head, resting it back against the railing, and closed her eyes for a moment, still trying to regain her composure. Rafe, watching her closely, stayed quiet for a while, giving her space to process. He knew she was battling a whirlwind of emotions. Fear. Anger. The pressure of what lay ahead. Finally, she opened her eyes again, her gaze soft but still heavy with the weight of everything. 

“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to freak out- I uh, I didn’t realize… it just hit me.”

“You don’t need to apologize.” 

Rafe said, shaking his head. Her eyes met his, and for a moment, there was a quiet understanding between them. No words needed to be said, they had been through too much together to be embarrassed of each other's fragility. She sighed deeply, looking down before speaking again. 

“I just feel like I’m drowning in all of this. It’s not just the case, it’s everything else. The video… and the fact that everyone’s seen it… I didn’t think it would be like this.”

Rafe, who had been leaning forward, put a hand on her knee slowly not wanting to startle her, his touch gentle. “You’re not drowning, okay? You’ve got people here who are fighting with you... I’m fighting with you.”

Y/N nodded, her eyes brimming with a mix of gratitude and exhaustion. She took another deep breath, hand running over her face to try and regain her composure, this time more steady than before, and stood up slowly, offering a hand to Rafe as she did. He took it, standing up in front of her. 

For a moment, they just stood there in silence.

Then, like a thread finally snapping loose, Y/N leaned forward, her body moving on instinct. Her forehead gently pressed against his shoulder, the fabric of his t-shirt soft but solid beneath her skin. She didn’t say anything- didn’t need to. Her body sagged slightly, the tension in her muscles slowly starting to uncoil as if letting herself go as she breathed in the comforting scent of the boy. Rafe stilled for only a moment, surprised by how vulnerable she allowed herself to be. Then, without thinking, his hand lifted and rested softly on the back of her head, his touch was light, careful. Protective.

“You’re okay,” he murmured, voice low and steady near her ear. His thumb brushed lightly against her hair.

“I’ve got you, yeah? You’re safe.”

A soft hum left her lips, barely audible, but it was enough for him. Her shoulders dropped slightly, the last of her rigid posture melting away as she leaned into him more, hand coming up to rest on his chest. The storm inside her, though still rumbling, quieted just a little in his hold. Rafe didn’t move, not wanting to destroy the perfect tranquility formed between them.

He just stayed there, holding her like he had all the time in the world, his hand cradling her head and his chest rising and falling in sync with hers.

I love you

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

taglist: @evermorx89 @bellaed1t @user381953 @lovemanheim @loves0phelia @yourcrackleflame @kundaquarius @matthewswifeyy @pillowprincess4him @lilithblackkk @sunny1616 @slut-4-gojo @louxmcl @stelleduarte @p0gue420

[sanjisleggy]

the siren and the sun (ace x reader) [pt3]

a/n: part 3 yippee!! i actually planned out the idea like a week ago but haven’t had the time to write it properly until now ;;0;; btw if anyone has any ideas/themes they might wanna see explored in the series, feel free to comment! also bruh i realise i’ve never writing mutual pining before so i hope this works :D ajsdjahdihdiuwdh

contents: silly children antics, mutual pining, jealous!Ace and jealous!reader, angst :’ 

wc. 2.6k

wanna be on my taglist?

part 2 || part 4

i. 

“hey, (Y/N),” Luffy asked through a mouthful of roasted boar.

“don’t talk with your mouth full, Luffy,” Makino reminded him from across the mat laid across the grass. It was her day off and the weather was perfect so she decided to treat you and the brothers to a picnic by a lake near Dadan’s cabin.

“okay, sorry,” the young boy replied, once again through a mouthful of roasted boar. completely forgetting what she’d just said, he turned back to you and continued his initial train of thought. “hey, (Y/N), when we grow up, i wanna marry you!” 

it takes another week–and nearly a hundred more failed assassination attempts–for Ace to realise he wants to join the crew.

“hey, i think he’s gonna talk to Pops about joining us now,” you whisper under your breath, just loud enough for Marco to hear as he stands perched on your shoulders in his half-Zoan form. he’d just returned from checking in on a nearby village and decided you were his perfect landing spot.

“you sure he’s not just going in to try to kill him again?” the older man replies in an equally hushed manner as he shoots a glance over his shoulder just in time to see Ace enter Whitebeard’s room. 

“he looks nervous,” you point out, “all the other times he just looked angry or something.”

Marco hums in what you assume to be agreement, still not showing any signs of getting off your shoulders. the first time he pulled something like this it spooked the hell out of you but now it’s a regular occurance. he’s surprisingly light and you enjoy the warmth that emanates from his phoenix wings. 

sure enough, the door doesn’t go flying off into the ocean like it’s done the last two hundred times. instead, it swings open quietly before Ace walks back out with his hat tilted far down enough to cover most of his face. you manage to catch a glimpse of his lips when he turns to walk over, and you see a hint of a smile. 

“you dumbass! do you even know what that means?!” Ace yelled after recovering from choking on his food. he laid a swift chop to Luffy’s head, his frown only deepening when his brother tried to gum-gum pistol him and missed.

“Magra told me it’s what you do when you’re a grown-up and you really love someone who’s not part of your family! and then after that they become part of your family!” the younger boy whined, rubbing at his sore head. “i want (Y/N) to be part of my family once i become the Pirate King!” beside you, Makino laughed into her palm while you kinda just sat there gobsmacked. 

speechless, Ace let out a stubborn huff before bonking Luffy’s head once again. he takes a huge bite out of his share of meat whilst the younger boy grumbled in displeasure.

“you’re just mad (Y/N) wants to marry me instead of you, stinky!” Luffy yells before sticking out his tongue at his older brother.

“shut up, you idiot!” Ace barked, a hint of red flushing his freckled cheeks. “how do you know who (Y/N) wants to marry anyway!” he then turned to look at you almost expectedly, face growing redder by the second. 

unsure of what he wanted you to say, you simply stared back at him blankly. after a couple of seconds, he huffed and grumbled something under his breath before taking off entirely, leaving the picnic behind.

ii.

the Moby Dick manages to dock at Cupid Island right before sunset. its citizens, already used to the presence of Whitebeard pirates due to being under their protection, barely bat an eye at the massive crowd making their way to the dockside bar. your crew had visited the island fairly recently but since Whitebeard announced Ace’s decision to join a couple of hours ago, it was unanimously decided that a special celebration was in order.

you enter the bar a little later than the others, with Ace trailing behind you. he’d fallen asleep after lunch and refused to get out of your bed even though the whole crew was waiting to celebrate with him. after a little bribery though (you told him he could sleep in your room tonight) he decided he suddenly really wanted to get a drink with you. 

you spot Marco the quickest due to his distinct hair and the fact that he’s one of the few sitting directly at the bar. he waves the two of you over when your eyes meet. 

“hey, (Y/N), Akira’s looking for you! don’t wanna keep your boyfriend waiting, do ya?” he teases, eliciting a chorus of ooooohs from your fellow crewmates. rolling your eyes, you run up to him to deliver a hard slap to his back, inadvertently leaving Ace behind in the process.

“how many times do i have to tell you, old man!” you hit his back one more time even though it’s clear from how he laughs that it doesn’t hurt at all. you continue to berate him, much to the amusement of the onlookers, but Ace finds it’s getting harder to pay attention to what you’re saying as he stands rooted to the spot where you left him. 

he watches as you join in the festivities so seamlessly. he can’t help but feel a tinge of envy when Marco and the others tease you with inside jokes he doesn’t get… and what’s this about a boyfriend? you never told him you were dating someone!

eyes still glued to you standing just a few metres away, Ace feels his fingers begin to tingle with heat as his mind starts to race in a way it's never done before.

boyfriend.

your boyfriend?

what about me?

he’s taken aback by his own thoughts. what about him? it’s never occurred to Ace–until right now–that you’re not his. you’re his best friend, sure, but aside from that you don’t owe him any exclusivity, do you? he’s gotten so used to spending time alone with you and Luffy that he’s forgotten other people exist outside of the space the three of you carved in your hearts for each other–as well as the fact that you might have more space in your heart to carve out for other new people. 

Ace has to remind himself that you’ve only been reunited pretty recently. weaving your lives back together was so seamless and effortless he’d nearly forgotten the fact that you’d spent two whole years away from him; and that he’d spent those two years thinking you were dead.

i mourned for you, didn’t i?

did you mourn for me, too?

“hey, get over here already!” you call out to him, breaking his train of thought. wordlessly, he listens and makes his way over to see you’ve kept a seat beside you just for him. “tonight’s all about you, y’know? have some fun!”

seeing you smile lifts a bit of the weight pressing down on his chest and he even gives you a small smile of his own. right as he takes a seat, the bartender returns and Ace catches the way the man’s eyes practically shine once they land on you. the heaviness in his heart returns tenfold as a bitter taste stains the back of his throat.

“fancy seeing you again so soon, (Y/N)!” the bartender greets with a smile that screams lovesick–to Ace, at least.

“hey Akira, yeah it’s a special day today,” you hum, shooting a quick glance at Ace. “give me two of my usuals, will you? one for me and one for Ace here.”

“ahh you must be the one Marco was telling me about!” Akira finally turns his attention away from you to look at Ace. “nice to meet you, i’m Akira and i’m the owner of the bar.” he offers his hand and Ace shakes it as amicably as he can–considering he wants nothing more than to set Akira on fire right now.

and also (Y/N)’s boyfriend, i presume?

he nearly says aloud but he bites his tongue and just smiles. 

“Luffy ate all your food, y’know?” you said in a hushed tone, careful not to wake Dadan and the others. 

“i don’t care.” Ace crossed his arms, frowning face illuminated by the single lit lamp sat in between the two of you. an arms length away, Luffy snored in his sleep.

“why were you so mad anyway?”

“... i wasn’t mad.”

“you sure looked mad.”

“i just thought Luffy was being stupid.”

“he’s always stupid.” Ace laughed at that one. you were right, his little brother was pretty dumb but his definition of marriage, though not totally accurate, wasn’t really wrong either. “you don’t want me to marry Luffy?” you teased.

“do you even wanna marry him?” he huffed as he flicked his finger at your forehead.

“no, not really,” you admitted. Luffy certainly wasn’t the worst person you could imagine yourself marrying but he felt too much like a baby brother to you. Ace averted his eyes away from yours as his face flushed a familiar red.

“you should marry me instead… when we’re all grown up, i mean.”

for a few seconds you were speechless and Ace nearly considered throwing himself off a mountain; but then you reached out to hold his hand, your fingers cold to the touch.

“shouldn’t we date first?” your eyes refused to meet his as well. “don’t adults date before they get married?”

“i don’t know.” he shrugged even though neither of you were even looking at the other. 

“that’s what my parents did, i think.” 

“well, your parents suck,” Ace declared, he hated your parents even though he never met them. you hummed in agreement. “but, if you want,” he continued as he adjusted his hand so that your fingers interlocked, his heart beating like crazy, “we can date first. then i’ll ask you to marry me. deal?”

“deal.” 

iii.

“wait, you’re not dating?” Thatch gasps, face slightly reddened from the few drinks he’s already had. “we all thought he was your long lost boyfriend or something.” a few other crew members voice their agreement.

rubbing your face in your hands, you sigh. though, you can’t really blame them. to outsiders, the way you and Ace behave around each other doesn’t exactly scream platonic.

“no, we’re just childhood friends,” you say, taking a sip of your third drink of the night. you’d long since migrated from the bar to the table where Thatch and a few others are sitting. the topic of your relationship status was only brought up once the fourth division commander noticed a crowd of young women forming around Ace, who’d stayed by the bar with Marco.

“i was so ready to kick his ass,” Thatch says, “i legitimately thought he was your boyfriend! he acts like a lovesick puppy and follows you around all the time.” he takes another swig of beer before shooting another glance at the group of women fawning over Ace.

“maybe he was just out of options,” a random crewmate you’re not very familiar with chimes in. as rude as it sounds, you can tell from his tone he hadn’t meant it in a mean way but he still apologises when Thatch and the others call him out.

“i mean, you might be right,” you admit, unable to keep your eyes away from the activity going on by the bar counter. Ace’s freckled face is tinted red even though he’s barely halfway through his first and only drink as the handful of local women fawn and flirt with him in a manner that’s only normal on Cupid Island–a place renown for its openness to romantic love.

although, even if you weren’t on Cupid Island, you still wouldn’t be surprised if women flocked to Ace on the daily. with his cute face, attractive physique and friendly demeanour, you can’t exactly blame them.

is this what your life was like when we were apart for two years? 

did you fall in love with anyone? are you in love with anyone?

you raise your glass to your lips but find it difficult to even take a sip. there’s a bitter taste lingering in the back of your throat that you know for sure didn’t come from any of your drinks. one of the ladies flirting with Ace laughs particularly loudly and you realise you can’t stay here anymore. 

your chest hurts too much in a way it's never done before. you’re old enough to know why you’re feeling this way but you avoid thinking about it as much as you can, worried that if you face the truth head-on, you might end up feeling worse.

you stand up abruptly, the scrapping of your chair against the worn wooden floor inadvertently attracting the attention of everyone in the bar. most lost interest right away but some curious stares linger. you feel a hint of embarrassment at being caught but your slight intoxication and frazzled mind makes it hard for you to care about shame right now.

without saying anything to anyone, you make your way to the exit. 

you reentered my life so abruptly and we fell back into place like puzzle pieces so seamlessly. i can’t remember my life before you came into it.

as you walk past the bar, you fail to notice Ace calling out your name.

i’ve taken for granted how happily you accept me back in your arms, just like when we were kids. how will i cope once you leave me for something better?

tears sting your eyes as the cold night air whips at your face. as quickly as you can, you walk back to the Moby Dick.

“(Y/N)! where’re you going?” Ace shouts as he catches up after ditching the group of women at the bar without a second thought. the moment he sensed you were upset, all his mind could focus on was making you feel better somehow. “are you okay?” he reaches out to grab your arm the moment you’re within range. although you don’t outright shake off his hand, you don’t stop walking either. 

“go back to the celebration, Ace,” you say without even looking at him, “it’s for you. you should have as much fun as you can.” you know you’re being unfair to him but the sudden revelation you’ve had to deal with tonight is taking its toll on you mentally and emotionally.

“it won’t be fun without you,” he whines, tightening his grip on your elbow. why’re you so cold all of a sudden? “come back in with me. we can hang out, just the two of us.” 

you want to so badly but you’re not sure if you’ll be able to handle seeing the same group of ladies waiting for Ace when you return. the aching in your chest grows tenfold and before you realise, you’re no longer able to avoid thinking about why you feel this way.

i’m so jealous.

i’m so selfish.

“no,” you finally stop walking and turn around to look up at Ace. he furrows his eyebrows when he notices the tears pooling in your eyes. “i can’t– i mean i’m not feeling well. i just wanna rest. you should go back,” you say as you force a smile that fails to fool him, “you looked like you were having fun… with all the girls, i mean. don’t stop because of me.”

for a moment Ace doesn’t know what to say and you take full advantage of it, tearing your arm out of his grip before continuing your walk back to the ship. he watches for a while as you leave, a million thoughts running through his mind as the pounding of his heart grows stronger by the second.

don’t leave me. i just want to be with you. 

he decides to run after you. 

gen taglist: @irethepotato @i-reblog-fics-i-like @grierpilots @appalost @hyper-fic-ation @dressycobra7 @38lyra38 @chaseyui @paraparakiss (my bad bruh i added the extra s by accident ;;0;;) @krooschl @teewon @olliesoxenfree @misstraffy @riftmage27

series taglist: @captainportgasdace @mitskisaveme @graveyardsweethearts @vaniiiavengeance @stuckinmymind22

[elvensorceress]

monday snippet

had a few tags for things from some lovely people 😘 and I now have 12K+ and counting of a sequel to snickerdoodles... so have some of Eddie arriving in Texas @tizniz @hippolotamus @eddiebabygirldiaz @daffi-990 @exhuastedpigeon @spaceprincessem @spotsandsocks @kejfeblintz @smilingbuckley @sofa-king-lame @chaosandwolves @smilingbuckley @kitty-covey @bekkachaos @blutterlie @sazanahashi @livinginsunnyhell @epicbuddieficrecs @sparklespiff @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @dangerpronebuddie 💕

He walks to the house, up the porch steps, and knocks on the door. After a good two minutes with no answer, he rings the bell. It’s another minute or so before the door opens to his mother in her gray apron. 

“Oh. Eddie. You made it,” she says flatly and he can’t tell if she’s annoyed at the interruption or just displeased to see him. Or if she was hoping to hear about a plane crash somewhere over Arizona with no survivors. “I thought you were coming next week.” 

“I—” No. He texted her. He called and talked to her. Briefly, but he wasn’t the one who hung up and rushed off to do something. He’s pretty sure he did. He did. He knows he did. His brain isn’t that much of a sieve. “No, today. It was always today.” He opens his arms but doesn’t step forward. Just in case she doesn’t want to hug him. “It’s good to see you?” It sounds like a question but he really can’t help that. 

She hums dismissively, looks at his offer, but doesn’t accept. Which doesn’t mean anything. His mother was never all that affectionate. But some people aren’t. Some people don’t care for it. Doesn’t mean anything. “Yes,” she says in a way that sounds like anything but. “This isn’t a good time.”

Eddie drops his arms. What the hell does that mean? 

“I’m in the middle of making dinner. And Christopher is doing his homework.” 

“Okay?” Eddie doesn’t know how that means it isn’t a good time. Not a good time for what? Him being here? He’s not company. He grew up here. He’s tidied and cleaned everything in the house at least ten thousand times. She doesn’t have to make small talk and host him. “I can help. Whatever you’re doing.”

She waves that off and smiles like it’s funny. “That’s all right. It’ll be faster if I do it myself and the kitchen is no place for you.” 

Because it’s her kitchen? Or because she thinks he can’t cook? Or because she looks at him like he’s still a child? Or he's a man who shouldn’t be doing ~women’s~ chores? It could be any one of those. Or every one of them. “Can I just see Chris then? I won’t be in the way. You don’t have to do anything for me.”

“Eddie,” she says and her voice gets sterner. Colder. “It’s not a good time right now. Why don’t you come back— hmm, we have activities tomorrow and your father is taking him out after school. How about on Wednesday? Or Friday? That would be better. You could come over then.”

He could— come over then? Then? He could wait days and then see Chris? They’re busy today and tomorrow and he’s supposed to wait around and do nothing? “You don’t have to feed me or host me. I just want to see my son.”

“Christopher is doing his homework right now. You’ll only distract him.”

Distract him? Eddie, Chris’ father, is a distraction? “I can help him with his homework.”

That earns him a disapproving scowl. “It won’t help him learn if you are doing the work for him.”

“I know that,” he almost snaps. It’s far too close to it. Which will not help. She’ll scold him if he’s angry. He would’ve been sent to his room and ignored, and it was awful when she wouldn’t talk to him and was disappointed in him. He tries to take a breath. Shove it down. Put it away. “You think I don’t know that he needs to learn for himself? Mom, I’m not—”

She puts her hands up but doesn’t touch him. She wants to quiet him. Because he’s the one who is overemotional and unreasonable. “It’s best if you don’t distract him while he’s working. You’ll only upset him if he sees you now. Now is not the time. He needs to finish his school work first.”

Okay. Sure. Maybe. 

Would Chris really be upset to see him? No, they haven’t exactly worked through or resolved anything. They need to. Obviously. Hence Eddie in the middle of this whole situation. But they’ve had conversations. Would Eddie really be detrimental to Chris functioning? 

Why wouldn’t he be. Hasn’t he always been that to everyone? 

“I— I flew all the way here,” he says. It’s quiet, tempered, but desperation and anguish are difficult monsters to conceal. “I’m moving here.”

“Then you’ll have plenty of opportunities to see him when it’s a better time.” 

A better time? “What do you mean a better time? I won’t bother you. I’m not going to distract him. I can’t have two minutes with him?” It’s angry. It sounds too angry. Too cracked. Unstable.

She steps forward onto the porch and closes the door behind her, clearly blocking him from the house and anything inside. “Is that what’s best for your son? Or what’s best for you? Are you thinking about his needs at all or only what you want?”

There’s no air in Eddie’s lungs. There might not be blood in his body for all he knows. He swallows hard and it’s rocks and dryness and everything hurts. He won’t see Chris. He can’t see Chris. She’s not going to let him. What can he do? Is there anything he can do? Besides make it worse? 

“Okay,” he says quietly and feels like he’s maybe ten years old and two feet tall. “I’ll come back on Wednesday.”

“Good. Thank you for finally choosing Christopher instead of yourself.” She turns and shuts the front door behind her, and leaves Eddie on the porch all alone without another word. 

No invite for a visit. No invite to dinner. No “good to see you, how are you.” He can’t help, he’s not allowed.

No Chris. 

What in the actual hell just happened? 

[jaimexbrienne-fic-finder]

Do you have any good recs for fics inspired by films?

This is just off the top of my head, if anyone can think of any others please add them!

Right Off the Bat by hillaryschu

to be read in 90s Movie Trailer RomCom Voice

Meet Jaime. He used to be the most infamous player in Major League baseball but a career-ending injury brought him back into the family business. He hates it. What he doesn’t hate is coaching the best Little League team in Kings Landing.

Meet Brienne. After her father’s death, she left behind a successful career in women’s competitive fastpitch to start over. She’s trying to balance life and love in a new city, all while coaching a down-and-out Little League team.

In a world where everyone is looking to connect, Jaime and Brienne discover the best way to meet someone is to never meet at all. What they don’t realize, is that they already have.

This fanfic exchange season, follow along with Brienne and Jaime as they take to one another on Twitter and battle on the ballfield. Then find out what happens when those worlds collide.

(a You’ve Got Mail AU)

Vows by theworldunseen

Jaime Lannister profiles the most interesting and romantic weddings in the country for his super popular blog, The only problem? His own heart has been stomped on, and it might have ruined weddings for him forever. When he finds out about a woman who’s going to be in her twenty-seventh wedding party, he thinks writing about her might be his way back to loving weddings. But Brienne Tarth isn’t anything he ever expected.

Inspired by 27 Dresses

Battle is the Great Redeemer by Lady_in_Red

Jaime Lannister dies in a tunnel under the Red Keep, and wakes up days earlier at Winterfell. And then it happens again. And again. But he's not the first to live the same battle over and over again. Arya Stark, the slayer of the Night King, went through it first in the Battle of Winterfell.

Edge of Tomorrow AU

A Big Cop in a Small Town by SeeThemFlying

When Brienne Tarth, a tough London copper, is forced to move to a sleepy town in Somerset to be their new police sergeant, she is partnered with Jaime Lannister, who is not happy about the whole deal. However, things are not what they seem in Casterly, and Brienne and Jaime end up uncovering a conspiracy bigger than anything they were ever anticipating.

A bit of ridiculous, murderous fun to help us all forget about Series 8!

References to a certain 2007 buddy cop comedy abound.

Hot Fuzz AU

The Ice Cream Anthology by SeeThemFlying

A series of unconnected and semi-connected Jaime/Brienne fics based on various films starring Simon Pegg:

1) "A Big Cop in A Small Town" - Hot Fuzz (2007) - Complete 2) "Woman Up" - Man Up (2015) - Complete 3) "Run, Fat Knight, Run" - Run, Fatboy, Run (2007) - Complete 4) "Lannister and Tarth" - Burke and Hare (2010) - Complete 5) "A Good Knight Sleep" - The Good Night (2007) - Complete 6) "Zombie Horror Hordes" - Shaun of the Dead (2004) - Complete 7) "Many Flavours of Ice Cream" - A Series of One Shots drawn from the ICA universes - WIP

the time of my life by djelibeybi

When Brienne arrives in King's Landing for the first time, she expects two tedious months of uncomfortable gowns, embroidering with the queen, and her father's failed attempts at matchmaking. She does not expect the Kingslayer secretly teaching her to joust, under cover of darkness, so that she can compete as him in the king's nameday tourney. And she definitely does not expect to fall in love with him.

Dirty Dancing AU

With All Your Faults by sea_spirit

In 1943, small-town slugger Brienne Tarth is recruited to play for Tywin Lannister’s newest business venture: the All-American Girls Professional Baseball League. There, she meets Jaime, a maimed former Major League pitcher who’s been talked into managing one of his father’s teams. She can't stand her arrogant coach, and he is definitely not interested in his annoyingly principled star player. They don't like each other at all, really...until they do.

Loosely inspired by "A League of Their Own," with slightly less baseball and lots more love story.

[whumpiary]

content warnings: abuse cycles, grooming, referenced noncon, referenced drugging, general dubcon vibes

-

Cass sits in the front seat with his head against the car window, hands tucked into the navy woolen sweater Christopher dressed him in this morning, watching droplets run long and silver along the glass. He has his feet tucked up, knees held to chest and, for once, Christopher doesn't say anything about keeping his shoes off the leather seats.

It’s grey outside. And cold. The heater blows soft and gentle on his face and the condensation keeps building on the glass. They’ve passed the rain now, though. Driven above it, maybe. They’d been on a steady, uphill climb for some time now, and they’d passed through fog a while back.

He doesn’t know where they’re going. He doesn’t know how far they’re driving or when they're heading back. He can’t remember if he saw anyone pack bags into the car. But that doesn’t mean anything either. It wouldn’t be the first time he thought they were going on a day trip and then they were gone for a week, two, three.

He can’t bring himself to fucking care today. He’s too angry and too tired and his body is aching too much.

Nat King Cole plays low through the speakers, the only other sound between them besides the car���s low hum. Christopher tried making conversation when they first started driving, attempting to stoke his boy into small talk and light hearted jokes. But silence is about the last line of protest Cass has to hold at the moment. So he holds it. And ten minutes into the drive, the music went on.

He’s glad, at least, for quiet. He’s glad the car is warm. The clothes he’s been dressed in are casual and comfortable for once. And if he sits very still and the road stays smooth, his body doesn’t even hurt that much. He’ll take the small wins. He doesn’t know what he would’ve done if Christopher tried to put him in a shirt and tie today. Thrown a fit, probably. 

Cass is focussed on watching a neck and neck race between two particularly tenacious rivulets when Christopher pulls into a gravel car park, turning the engine off. “Here we are.”

To call it a car park is generous. It’s more of a worn-down patch off the side of the road, loosely bordered with the sawn-off trunks of some old gums. Cass' eyes slide to Christopher, making no move to unbuckle, “Where? The side of the road?”

Christopher sighs, clearly tired of the attitude, but not annoyed enough to rise to it. “We’re going for a walk. Out you get.”

Cass looks out the window as Christopher steps out of the car. He can see a worn down path through the trees, low ferns and bush scrub giving away to yellowed dirt. Christopher can’t actually be fucking serious. A bush hike? When walking ten steps makes him ache?

By the time Christopher opens his door for him, he’s tucked himself even more tightly into the passenger seat.

“Out you get, darling.”

Cass stares at his hands, picking at the dead skin around his finger nails, “Get fucked.”

“Pardon?”

“I’m not going for a walk with you.”

“I have something I want to show you.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“Don’t be silly. We’ve driven all this way-”

“You’ve driven all this way. I’ve just sat where you put me.”

There's another tired sigh, “Get out of the car, Cassius.”

“No.”

The sounds of the bush fill up the quiet that follows. Slender leaves brushing against each other on thin branches. The call and squawk of a flock of galahs. Fairy wrens darting in the scrub. The constant pitch of a bellbird somewhere in the distance.

Christopher sighs a final time. “Fine.”

The car door closes sharply, cutting the sound of the world off with it. The boot opens. Then it closes. And then, in the reflection of the rear view mirror, Cass watches as Christopher walks away from the car, down the worn-down path, a picnic basket in his hand and a bag slung over his shoulder. Cass keeps watching, waiting for him to stop and call over his shoulder. And then waiting for him to come back. But he just disappears into the bush without looking back.

Everything feels more silent without him there. Like the car has its own atmosphere. He can’t hear the trees or the wind or the birds. He can see the galahs, pink against the eucalyptus. But the whole world is muted. Excised by tinted glass. His ears start to ring with the quiet of it all. And he sighs just to hear his breath. He shifts in his seat just to hear the rustle of fabric. The movement shoots pain through him that makes him wince. And reminds him why he's been so pissed off in the first place.

One minute Christopher had been beside him at the party, laughter bubbling, hand on his waist like usual. The next he’d been left alone in a room with a dozen strangers, a bit of rope, and far too much fucking booze.

He still doesn’t know where Christopher had gone in the hours in between. Just that they’d left for the party right after dinner. That he'd been given a pill in the car on the way there. That someone, at some point, thought it would be funny to have a competition to make him scream the loudest.

By the time they were coming home, he had an ache right the way through him, blank spots in his memory, and the sun was rising over the trees.

And everything just felt horrible. And he felt dirty and used and awful.

Has all week since.

Cass tilts his head back and looks through the windscreen, up the road that winds up the hills and around a corner into more scrub. Were there houses up here? Maybe. It looked like a truck road, more than anything. There for carting cargo more than people.

Still, though. He could get out. Try to walk it. Find someone. Hitchhike. Run away.

He could be gone before Christopher even knows he's missing. He could be over the state line before nightfall. He could slip away. Never go back. Find someone else's bed to warm. Some other place to stay. Some other person to be. No Cassius Drake, no brother to think about, no record to work off. Just another stranger on the street.

He watches as a white ute approaches up the curving road, bigger and bigger the closer it gets. He could get out. He could flag them down. It gets bigger and bigger. Closer and closer. He could tell them he broke down. Needs a lift. They wouldn't ask any questions.

The car gets bigger, bigger, bigger on the horizon as it approaches. Bigger, bigger, bigger… and then it passes by and around the corner and he can't see it anymore. Cass looks back to the galahs. And then he closes his eyes. He's not going anywhere. Christopher knew that when he left.

The better part of half an hour passes before he sees Christopher reappear on the beaten down track. He watches him approach in the rearview mirror. Bigger, bigger, bigger.

Cass’ only movement is to shift his eyes to stare forward out the windshield, hands curled tight around his seatbelt as Christopher approaches. He braces for a fight. But the door opens and Christopher doesn't say a word. He reaches down and over, and Cass barely has time to process what he's doing before his seatbelt is being unclicked and he's being scooped up and out of the car, door shut with the swing of Christopher's foot behind them.

"Hey."

Christopher doesn't say anything, or even really acknowledge that Cass has spoken. He readjusts him slightly to have a better hold and keeps walking, back down the same path he'd disappeared down earlier. It takes Cass a minute or two to process properly what's happening. It's so far from what he expected Christopher to do he feels disoriented by it.

"I didn't ask to be carried."

"Tell me to put you down," Christopher replies calmly, still walking. “And I will.”

For a moment, Cass chews his cheek. Even if Christopher refused. It'd be as easy as naming him. It would always be as easy as naming him. But he doesn't. He tucks in close, head against Christopher's chest, hand curling in his shirt, and lets himself be carried.

They walk in silence for a little while, up a slope and down again, across a fence line that declares private property, down through denser bush. Cass eyes the swaying trees and the set line of Christopher’s jaw intermittently as they go. Occasionally a bird calls overhead. Occasionally the wind picks up. Aside from that, it’s as silent between them as the car ride had been.

He notices the break in the tree line first, sky a little more visible as the gums open out into a wider sprawl. He adjusts his grip around Christopher’s neck and looks down to see the scrub giving way to rock, tightly packed sand, and a small, still body of water.

Christopher walks them to where he’s set up the picnic under a tree on the banks and sets Cass down on it. The blanket is already splayed out, the basket unpacked: cheese, wine, a neatly wrapped lunch. There’s even a little thermos of something.

Cass is unmoved by it. Or he tries to be, arms wrapped around himself in silent, moody protest. Hell of a way to go for a picnic lunch. The view isn’t even that good.

Apart from the little dam thing maybe. The water's prettier than he wants to admit. Strikingly blue. So blue it almost doesn’t look real.

Christopher gives the elbow of his sweater a brief tug, before starting to take off his own cable knit cardigan, “Strip, darling.”

Cass looks at him with complete incredulity and scoffs a laugh, bitter and angry. A fuck in the bush is it? “Oh fuck off.”

Christopher sighs, folding his cardigan and laying it down on the picnic blanket, before moving to take off his watch, “I don’t want to fight, Cassius. Just strip.”

He kicks a stone and it skitters to a stop before it can make it to the water. “Fucking make me-”

“Cassius.” Christopher’s voice is stern enough to cut Cass off, head jerking up to look at him. He almost never yells. And it always strikes Cass through with as much fear as the sharp snap of leather.

But Christopher looks more tired than angry. And then he sighs again, hands palm up and half pleading. “I don’t want to fight. This is meant to be a nice thing. Just let it be a nice thing.”

Cass stares at him for a few beats. He considers refusing. He considers ruining the whole fucking day. He considers protesting, arguing, throwing insults. Making Christopher angry enough to slam his head against the rocks over and over until he stains that pretty little lake red.

But Christopher is tired. And if he’s honest, he is too. 

They haven’t fucked since Saturday. And they haven’t really spoken either. The silent treatment is as exhausting to give as it is to get, it turns out. If nothing else, it’s achingly lonely. He doesn’t know how Christopher stands it.

And right now, when Cass reaches out… all Christopher seems to want right now is just a truly nice day. A rest. A glass of wine. A reset. It’s hard not to give in to that.

Cass strips the jumper, dropping it in the sand at his feet, and then kicks off his shoes, his socks, the soft drawstring pants. The air is cold enough on its own but the wind properly chills him, his skin pricking with goosebumps. He wraps his arms back around himself, looking back to Christopher, half undressed himself and dusting sand and dirt from Cassius’ clothing before re-folding it on the picnic blanket.

Christopher nods to the water, “In you get.”

Cass stares at him. “It’s fucking freezing.”

“Mmhmm,” Christopher agrees. And then he smiles gently, almost playful, and nods again to the water. “In you get.”

Cass frowns, contemplating arguing for a moment or two before relenting, approaching the water’s edge like someone might an angry snake. The water is so still and so blue. Almost milky, even. It barely looks natural. He looks back over his shoulder to Christopher, who is watching him with a mild smile as he undoes his own belt. “Go on, darling.”

He takes a few more steps forward, brings his foot into to the water and-

He flinches back, looking over his shoulder with wide eyes, “...It’s warm.”

Christopher’s smile widens, and he nods. “Hot springs.”

Cass looks back to the water, fascinated. He brings his foot back to the surface, dragging his toe through the water, and then stepping in. One foot. And then the next. It’s warm as bath water.

“Is it real?”

Christopher exhales a laugh, “You’re standing in it, my love. What do you think?”

“No, I mean like… did they make it? Or is it-”

“Oh, I see,” Christopher says. “It’s natural, yes. As far as the story goes, anyway. A friend of mine owns the property. The family stumbled across it a decade or two ago. They thought about commercialising it for a while before deciding it was more special to keep it private. Their own little family sanctuary. You and I are two of about a dozen people in the whole world who knows it exists.”

Cass barely takes in the story. He’s sure it’s meant to sound impressive or interesting but frankly how the fuck is he meant to give a shit when he’s standing in something this beautiful? This unreal?

It's so, so blue. He wades into the water, over ankles, up his shins, to his knees, before looking back again to Christopher, who’s watching him with fondness. He gestures to the water, “Can I…?”

It earns him a smile, “Of course, darling.”

He dives under, a shallow skim under the surface. And when he opens his eyes the water is clear enough that he can see weak winter sunlight dappling the stones below. It’s so weird. It’s so weird and so cool and so nice. It’s like a fucking magic swimming pool, carved into the middle of the bush.

He's always loved swimming. Always, always, always. The weightlessness and the water around him. The movement and the tide. It washes him clean in a way nothing else does. Makes his body feel realer than anything other than sex. It's so easy to forget until he's in the water again.

He’d grown up by the beach. And the worst part of it was always the icy cold. And the worst part of a pool was the smell. And this place had neither. Just peace and water and eucalyptus and warmth. It’s like the rest of the whole world has stopped. Like this place erupted from the earth just for him. Just to hold him.

It soothes the ache in his body and the twist in his chest and when he emerges again from the water, for the first time all week -- all fucking week -- he feels like he can breathe.

He pushes wet curls back from his face to find Christopher seated on a towel laid out on the rocks, one foot trailing in the water, smiling soft as he watches him, “Nice?”

Cass relaxes onto his back to float and drags his fingers through the water —  warm, warm water — and laughs for the first time since the party, “This is fucking insane.”

Christopher laughs too, “Insane good?”

“This is a spa in the middle of the bush.”

“I suppose it is.”

Cass holds his gaze for a moment, feeling the thrum of satisfaction coming off of him. This is all he wanted, wasn't it? All he wanted was to see Cass enjoy this. He dares to give him a smile, “You gonna join me?”

“I might in a minute,” Christopher says. “I need a rest first.”

“Tired already, old man?”

“My arms are a little. I just carried you for about half a kilometer, didn’t I?”

 Cass flips onto his belly so he can paddle over a little closer, “Well maybe if you come in I’ll make it up to you.”

“Just maybe?”

Cass gives him a grin and splashes water up at him in a shining sheet before sinking below entirely. There’s a thrilling delight at hearing the muffled sound of Christopher’s shocked laughter through the water, right before the splashing sound of him coming in after.

-

They eat lunch on the rocks with their feet in the water, Cass wrapped in Christopher’s cardigan. The food is good because of course it is. And the wine is better because of course it is. But there is a soft glow of recognition when Cass realises that the food’s that has been packed is more or less a collection of his favourites. The crusts have even been neatly sliced off his sandwich. It’s weird to realise how well Christopher knows him.

He ends up back in the water not long after, and when Christopher settles again on the rocks, Cass lays himself back in the shallows with his head against Christopher’s legs like he’s relaxing back in a bath. He watches Christopher watch the lorikeets, his face tilted up to the pale winter sun.

“I didn’t think you liked swimming,” he comments mildly.

Christopher laughs, brows raised in mild surprise and brushes a knuckle down his cheek, “Why would you think that?”

“No pool at the estate,” Cass points out. “And whenever I go to the pool at your hotels, you tell me you’ll meet me at dinner.”

“I came with you at The Maribella.”

“To sit by the pool with a book and a drink.”

“I thought about swimming.”

“You thought about fucking me in the pool you mean.”

“I thought about swimming,” Christopher repeats. He reaches a hand up to tuck a damp curl behind Cass’ ear. “But sometimes I just want to watch you enjoy yourself. Is that so wrong?”

The phrasing almost sours things. It’s dangerously close to what he says right before a guest is over. Right before a party. But Christopher doesn’t mean it like that. He knows he doesn’t. So he tries a smile. He lets it go.

It’s like Christopher’s mind drifts to the same thing, though. Because his face gets soft and sad. He cups Cass’ cheek. He brushes his hair back, “Have you liked today, darling?”

Cass nods. It’s surprisingly easy to give him a soft smile. “Been pretty nice actually.”

Christopher keeps brushing his curls back. Gives him that sad smile in return, “I’m glad to hear that.”

Cass wants the conversation to end there. He wants that to be it. To draw Christopher back into the water for a kiss and a lazy float in the water and then go home. But of course it doesn’t.

“I know I asked a lot from you the other night, darling boy.”

Some tired, angry animal tries to wake up in Cass’ chest. He sedates it with a breath deep enough to make his ribs ache. 

“And I wanted you to know…” Christopher continues. He speaks carefully. Like he’s practised the phrasing. Perfected the sympathetic cadence. “We won’t be seeing those friends again.”

Cass doesn’t know if he believes it. And he doesn’t know if it even matters if he does or not. He stays very still, timing his breath to the strokes of Christopher’s fingers through his hair.

“And I’m glad today has been nice,” he continues softly. “I wanted to find a way to thank you. I know sometimes you struggle to find my gifts sincere.”

The tired, angry animal rolls over. Cass holds his breath for a second so it doesn’t rouse and ruin everything. “Is that what today is, then? A gift?”

Christopher laughs in a way that would probably sound self deprecating if Cass didn’t know him better. “It’s.. a gesture. To show you what you mean to me.” He smiles, winding a damp curl about his index finger, letting it lovingly loose back to its natural spiral. “I wanted to give you some of the gentleness you deserve.”

Cass doesn’t know what to say to that. He keeps his eyes on Christopher’s face, tracing the lines of it. The most prominent of his wrinkles are the ones around his eyes. Creasing crows feet that match a merry face. They frame his eyes just right. Strikingly blue. So blue they almost don't look real.

He reaches a hand up before he knows what he’s doing. He cups Christopher’s face. He swipes a damp thumb over his cheek. The shining trail it leaves almost makes it look like he’s crying. Especially when he’s looking at him like that. So soft. Full of a strange kind of longing that has no claws to it. No teeth.

Christopher turns his cheek to press his lips to the side of his boy’s thumb. He presses his cheek into Cass’ hand like a man truly looking to be absolved.

“I love you, darling boy. You know that. Don’t you?”

It’s not an apology.

But it’s close.

Cass cranes his neck up, offering a kiss. Asking for one.

Christopher’s hand cradles his jaw, firm and warm. His thumb brushes damp his hair back along his temple. His tongue slides into his mouth. It’s deep and passionate. But for once it’s not hungry. Cass breathes into it.

Maybe there was a kind of power in this. In being loved like this. In having a man like this love him.

In these moments… it feels worth it. All of it. The hurt, the pressure, the asking too much. He presses and presses and pushes and pushes but then, at the brink of things, he always knows to release. He knows to soothe and pull back and reset. He knows how much give there is before the break.

Cass doesn’t remember falling asleep on the rocks. But he must. Because he rouses as he’s being lifted from the picnic blanket and cradled against Christopher’s chest like some precious thing.

It makes him think of being a little kid. Of pretending to fall asleep in the backseat, hoping to be carried inside and tucked into bed. He can’t remember if anyone ever actually did that for him back then. He can’t remember if anyone ever held him this gently. It’s nice. It’s so, so nice.

"You said your arms were sore," Cass mumbles in quiet protest, head against Christopher's chest. He can feel the vibration of every footfall as they walk.

"I'll survive, my love."

When they get back to the car, Christopher sits him down gently in the passenger seat. He buckles him in. He kisses his hair. He even fetches a blanket from the back of the car and tucks it over his lap.

It’s The Decemberists instead of Nat King Cole on the way back down the mountain.

The heater blows soft and gentle on his face. He watches a flock of carellas careen their way over the backroads. They turn on to the main roads and Christopher takes his hand, gently kisses his knuckles.

As they roll back up the winding entry road of the estate, the sun is setting over the trees.

And everything feels alright.

[doodler16]

Fizz and Ozzie are the most boring unseasoned yaoi couple in HB. Stolas and blitz are the absolute worse, but if you looked at them from dark bl manga perspective like stolas is an emotional abuser, that viv wants to feel sorry for because he married to a bitch and his daughter is a bitch, but in reality this a rich man refusing to take responsibility for the action of his crime and is DRAGGING everyone down with him. Blitz has deep seated insecurities and wants to be loved, so he stops fighting and bowes down to stolas and takes his abuse. Viv is gaslighting people into thinking they’re meant to be together, but Brandon knows stolas is abusive and they should not be together, it makes stolas and blitz fascinating. Again not because it romantic and you feel something for them but because you seeing a character in an abusive relationship you want to help get out of, and the odds are against your favor.

Fizz and Ozzie have nothing to their relationship aside from mammon and blitz intervening which makes no sense in the first place.

side note. How come it was easier for fizz to walk out on a fucking KING OF SIN, than it is for Angel to just walk out on Valentino who is below the hierarchy. It is because the hierarchy makes no sense? World building and writing is bad?

Fizz feels like a character that’s constantly getting retconned because viv has no idea what to do with him. First he’s introduced he works for Ozzie and is a shit starter with Ozzie, making fun of moxxie and blitz, next time we see him he’s sugar baby that’s been defanged and is mad that blitz abandoned him, never talked to him after the fire but forgives real fucking quick, because it “technically wasn’t blitz’s” fault he was disabled, he still works for mammon and has a rich powerful daddy so thank you blitz. Than he’s overworked and abused by mammon, and his rich powerful daddy doesn’t do anything and is complacent because he helped make sex robots of fizz, but it’s never foreshadowed or built up and fizz is able to walk away real quick, because he has a rich daddy that will take care of him. You see what I mean when I say that blitz and mammon intervene and make them interesting? On their own, there’s nothing to fizz and Ozzie, they just have kinky sex and you feel nothing when they say “I love you”

You know it’s bad when Brandon (the main writer) knows how toxic and destructive Stoliz is. I did enjoy Fizz and Ozzie’s dynamic in the finale of season 1 but now it’s like I’m witnessing a discord mod with his e-kitten except both of them are attractive and actually into the role play.

For Fizzarolli and Mammon vs Angel Dust and Valentino, the difference has to do with a soul contract. Angel Dust signed his soul away to Valentino while Fizzarolli just feels pressured and obligated to work for Mammon. I hated how the fire situation was an accident, it felt cheap.

Ozzie knew how bad the fizzy bots were but didn’t do anything about it. Lowkey Robo Fizzarolli is a bit more interesting than the real one.

[a-bit-kaleidoscopic]

ateez intimacy headcanons | pt 1

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◇ fandom ⇢ ateez

◈ rating ⇢ E (explicit)

◉ characters ⇢ hongjoong

◍ content warnings ⇢ explicit sexual content, unnamed partner

⊹ word count ⇢ 698

⨳ author's note ⇢ this is in no way meant to be representative of hongjoong as a person or an artist ! just a bit of fun based on his public persona and his personality . all my opinion, and i'm right . /lh

─ ao3 link (coming soon)

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⪧ summary ⪦

my personal headcanons of hongjoong's intimate behaviors and likes and dislikes :] enjoy

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switch switch switch

a VISUAL person. the worst thing you can do is take away his ability to see his partner

a power bottom

he doesn’t need to be taller than them to make them weak, all he has to do is look up, lips parted and eyes dark and he has them wrapped around his finger

the easiest way to get him worked up is light touches when he doesn’t expect it, he’d generally avoid if he’s conscious of it, but if they are in the right places…

and speaking of right places…

his ears. he is weak for his partner’s kisses there, behind his ear, on his jaw right next to it, running their hands through his hair

his hands. his palms are sensitive to scratches, soft thumb circles, pinned hands, tongue, anything — one of his favorite things is running his fingers along his partner’s jaw, into their mouth, just watching his fingers disappear into their obedient mouth

he’s not super sensitive on his chest, but his back. his lower waist and lower back are perfect spots to kiss, to rub, to grab

going back to the visual aspect…

mirrors. blindfolds. videos. photos. mutual masturbation.

the easiest way to overwhelm him is with either so much visual stimuli or none — putting on a show vs. blindfolded; he adores the thrill of mirrors or photos of his partner, though he makes extra sure to secure them so no one but him can see them

consent king consent king

he will almost never approach them first to initiate because he is so awkward but his gaze betrays all , both sides of switch

he would hold himself back for both of their sakes, so he gets really pent up and when he finally gets to let it go, his shoulders are so tense and his stomach is tense, and he really just falls apart

possessive. a little bit like a guard dog — clingy when emotional

oral fixation.

horny at the dinner table, horny in the studio, horny at dance practice … but he has really good self restraint, so his partner’s tongue curling around a piece of food, their cheeks as they suck a straw, the shape of their mouth as they sing, teasingly close to the microphone… lollipops, lip rings, bitten lips, tongue piercings… this man is always staring at his partner’s mouth

which goes right along with his favorite type of sex : oral

literally ANYTHING with his partner’s mouth : finger sucking, gags, blowjobs, being eaten out (only occasionally, but holy shit the tongue…)

his favorite noises are the quiet ones, the murmurs, the whispers, the gasps, the staccato breaths of them as they’re trying to be quiet — the fact that he is close enough to breathe in all of these noises and no one else can is intoxicating

although height and size don’t generally matter to him at, he can get a kick out of dominating someone taller and bigger than him — adrenaline rush, just the thought of looking up at them, then getting them down on their knees, shivering with want has him hot all over

but when he really needs to let go, being led and arranged and talked to, so he can just drink it all in, that’s his ultimate vulnerability. letting his control go so they can just hold him as they know he likes, giving and taking and letting him melt into putty in their hands

he would be a washcloth and pajama type of aftercare person - as someone who gets little sleep anyway, he thrives in the late hours, and would have everything set up beforehand, because that time with his partner is so rare

softly stroking their hair, giving them his oversized long sleeve pajama shirts and holding their hands

but he needs that aftercare too, and his greatest weakness is being brought to bed, curled on a chair while his partner changes the sheets into cool soft new ones, and just drifting into sleep behind his partner’s back, arms around their waist, hands softly clasped over their stomach

morning neck kisses, worrying about hickeys, he is so sweet and so sleepy

he is loved.

────────────────────────────────

[scaryscarecrows]

Tim is absolutely concerned that a Jokerized Batman is roaming Gotham. He’s a little more concerned that a literal army is invading Gotham. But right now, he’s just. Awkwardly sitting here.

Barbara’s alive, he keeps telling himself. Babs is okay. It’s a great feeling. Not that it’s helping him at all. He’s still stuck here, with nothing to do besides fiddle, for the thousandth time, with his communication unit and exchange steadily more commiserating glances with Harley Quinn.

“Hey, birdie. Wanna play pat-a-cake?” She grins at him, broken, and starts clapping slowly, sometimes putting her hands flat against the glass where he’s supposed to mimic her. “Aw, c’mon, Robin! We’re stuck ‘ere ‘til Bats comes to let us out.”

“He’s not letting you out,” he reminds her. She shrugs.

“Yeah…probably not. Oh, well…I could get used to Mistah J with bigger shoulders.”

Tim shudders. He doesn’t want this conversation. He’ll fix this. Bruce might have to spend some time-a lot of time-locked away, but he’ll fix this. He’s not really showing symptoms, there’s still time, he can—

BAM!

Oh no.

“Secure the area,” someone growls. “Get those doors locked down, fix the voice recognition lock. I don’t want him getting back in here if he gets loose.”

Well. Shit.

“Yessir.”

Tim’s fingers tighten around the little canister in his hand. The Arkham Knight was here before, God knows why, and he…took pity, is Tim’s best guess, tossed him a thing of mace. Held him at gunpoint the whole time, but still. Him-or his men, anyway, Tim hasn’t heard the man himself-being back here can only be bad.

But he’s not going down without a fight.

“Aww, miss me?” Harley calls, leaning against the glass. A second later, one of the soldiers enters the room. “Didn’t yer mama ever tell ya to take yer hat off to a lady?”

He ignores her in favor of nudging Henry’s bloody corpse and calling, “Hey, boss, you want me to move these outta the middle of the floor?”

Presumably the Knight is here, then. But he doesn’t answer.

“He says yeah!” somebody shouts from the elevator.

Okay?

This isn’t weird, not to the guy, because he leans down, grabs Henry’s wrists with a grimace, and starts pulling.

“Hey, Robin,” he says. “You, uh, you need food or anything? You’re not gonna die of dehydration in there, are you?”

No. These cells have the sad ‘healthy’ energy bars Bruce hands over if anyone dares to say, ‘hey, B, I’m hungry, how about Goth-King?’ They also have water bottles.

“You could let me out,” he says flatly. The guy stops mid-drag and fixes him with an exasperated expression.

“How stupid do you think I am.”

“Most thugs in this city are pretty damn dumb.”

“You know what, that’s fair.”

He doesn’t even try to move Albert King. He looks at him, sure, but then he calls over, “Trent! Come move this guy!”

“Chihuahua,” a voice rumbles in amusement. The other man holds up a middle finger.

“You’re just a freak. I’m not moving him when I can make you do it, so c’mere.”

Another man, this one around Albert’s size, enters. He laughs at the first one before leaning down, grabbing the ankles, and pulling the big man’s remains off towards the side.

Others file in, now. A man with some kind of computer and an antennae strapped to his back, a medic, a—

Holy shit.

Tim blinks, hoping he’s having a moment of…of…tired. Stress. Something. He’s not. Jason Todd is still standing not ten feet away. He’s older, obviously, but even without the brand on his face, he’s still recognizable.

It makes sense, in a horrible sort of way. They never found him, not even a…a likely match. The only thing they had was that tape, and Robin’s burned, bloody cape. Sure, Tim wouldn’t have thought he could do something like this–Jason was reckless and impulsive, this seems way too calculated–but he has the motive, and…well…

Oh my God.

Jason’s (??????) holding an ice pack to his throat, and the medic’s hissing at him like an angry goose.

“—talk, I said, keep your mouth shut, I said! You pay me to know this shit! That is my job! You are making it very hard for me to do my job, and so help me, if you make so much as a peep before I clear you—”

They’re just…completely ignoring him. He guesses it’s better than killing him, but. What do they want? What is going on around here?

Jason starts coughing and an older man thumps Medic between the shoulders.

“Good going. You broke him.” Then a gentler, “Maybe siddown, sir. You don’t look so good.”

No. No, he doesn’t. Ice pack aside, scars aside, he’s swaying on his feet and he looks green. He doesn’t fight, either, when the older man guides him to the examination table and gives him a nudge to make him sit down.

“There we go…you good? You’re not gonna pass out or anything?”

Jason shakes his head and adjusts the pack against his throat before flopping onto his back and rasping, “Gimme a minute.”

“No talking!” Medic shouts from across the room. He is ignored.

“Drouot.” First Man-okay, so he has a name now-is there in seconds. “Bring Robin up to speed, I can’t—”

“You got it, boss.”

Tim is so confused. They don’t seem to be here to hurt him, but they’ve been trying to kill Bruce all night, and Jason isn’t as dead as they thought and—

Drouot comes over to stand in front of the glass. He makes no move to let Tim out, but he does seem to be doing his best to look non-threatening. Well. As non-threatening as possible, being armed to the teeth and all.

“You doing okay in there?”

“Spare me the good cop routine.”

“You try to be nice…fine.” He straightens up and clasps his hands behind his back. “Our understanding is that Batman’s ability to fight the effects of the TITAN disease is shaky at best, and we have secured him to prevent him from harming others. Namely us.” He gives Tim a chilly smile and Tim wonders, then, how much these guys know. “Scarecrow’s Cloudburst was probably the catalyst—” What. “—but in hindsight, he’s been, uh. Not okay for most of the night—”

He’s cut off by Harley pounding her fists on the glass and screaming, “He’s takin’ afta my puddin’, and he’s gonna be perfect! You leave him alone, ya big meanie!”

Everybody cringes, and the big guy, Trent, twists around and steps over to her cell.

“Zip it, clown.”

Harley peers around him and lights up like a Christmas tree.

“Baby boy!” Huh-oh. This can’t be good. “Where have you been?”

Jason lifts a hand to flip her off before letting it dangle off the table. Trent smacks his palm against the glass and growls, “I said, zip it.”

“Make me.”

He looks tempted. Instead, he looks down at the keypad, pushes a button, and the soundproof panes slide into place. Harley isn’t happy about this. Drouot rubs his temples and mutters, “Too many freaks in this town…should’ve just blown it up from the sea and picked through the rubble for the bastard’s remains…anyways. I don’t like this situation any more than you do—”

“You took Gotham hostage!”

Drouot’s eye twitches. Behind him, the computer flashes red as somebody types on the keyboard. Harley’s blurry shape continues pounding on the glass. A Riddler trophy glows sickly green in the vents. (That had been wild-a bunch of robots had just…come in, placed the trophies, and left. Except for a few of them that went deeper into the studio and never came back.)

“I was going to let you out to try and stop Scarecrow.”

“He’s your boss.”

There’s a burst of offended chatter. Drouot looks like he wants to bang his head against the nearest wall.

“He’s a client, and that contract has been terminated at our discretion due to. Ah. Creative differences.” There’s laughter behind him. “And also a critical lack of communication, and unnecessary endangerment.” That’s their problem. It’s not like Scarecrow’s ever made an effort to hide his motivations. Well. Unless he has a bigger, more horrible plan to unveil. “And he creeps me out, so I don’t feel too bad.”

Does Tim recognize that as an attempt to convince him that they’re friendly? Yeah. Does he care? Only a little.

“That’s sort of his thing.”

“Really. I had no idea.” He looks at the keypad. “Are you going to leap at me and try to bash my head against the floor if I let you out?”

Honestly, probably not. He could get this one. He could feasibly take one more before the others start shooting, but if they’ve locked down the front door, who knows what else they’ve done. The odds of him getting out of here alive after mounting an attack are slim at best. For now, playing along is his best option.

“No.”

“Want me to open the cell, sir?”

Jason’s sitting up again, slumped forward with his free hand steadying himself against the side of the table. For a minute, Tim thinks he’ll say no-expects him to, even-but he nods, just once, and rasps, “He tries anything, put a bullet through his head.”

Ouch.

“Yessir.”

Drouot taps at the keypad until the door opens and steps back. The computer is no longer flashing red, which is disturbing, given the circumstances. But it’ll alert Barbara, if she hasn’t been already. Who knows what she’ll be able to do, with Bruce…somewhere…, but he’ll take it.

Jason looks at him and Tim…Tim doesn’t know what to say, if anything. How, exactly, do you make amends for…for…everything, basically. All of it. He hadn’t really expected, or wanted, to be Robin. He’d wanted Batman to stop half-murdering people, to help find Robin.

Something tells him that’s not going to go over well with Jason, or his little bodyguards. Uh. Big bodyguards. Minions.

“Thank you,” he finally forces out. Jason shrugs.

“I don’t like this any more than you do.”

That’s not surprising. This is one of the top five most awkward moments of Tim’s life, right after telling Bruce Wayne, ‘you’re Batman’ and having a horrible stare-off for two whole minutes.

“We’re sure he’s not, like, Joker Junior or anything, right?” Drouot says from behind him. Oh, that is it—

“Yeah. I mean, I’m all for bludgeoning him over the head and taking a blood saaaaample—”

“Stop. Talking.”

“—but I think Batman did that already, because his file’s clean.”

Of course Jason’s seen his file. Tim doesn’t think he likes this tidbit of knowledge.

“I’m standing right here.”

“That’s good.” He just said-! “What now, boss?”

Jason eyes Harley’s cell and swallows a few times before saying, “Sweep the whole building. You see any jack-in-the-boxes, shoot them from a distance, they’re explosive. Leave Riddler’s bullshit alone.”

“Yessir. You, uh, you coming with?”

“No. Robin and I are going to have a talk--no. I do not need a babysitter. Get going.”

They go, but none of them look too pleased. When the doors are shut, he stands up and makes his way to the computers to bring up the cameras. Tim wonders what to do.

“I thought about killing you, you know.” Where’s his staff. Bruce took it from him earlier and he would like it back. “Thought maybe I’d send your corpse back to B in a bird cage.”

Well. This is awkward.

“I’m…sorry?”

Jason snorts.

“Been hearing that a lot tonight.” He frowns and taps the intercom button. “There’s a back entrance behind the haunted house set. Seal it off.” Somebody throws a salute at the camera. Jason stumbles back onto the examination table and drops the half-thawed ice pack down next to him. “I’m not telling you where we left him,” he continues. “He’s out of control. He won’t stop laughing.”

Brr. Tim’s grateful, a little, that he’s been spared that sight. Bruce laughs, it’s not that. But his laugh is…warm. Deep and easy to miss if you’re not listening. Something tells him that’s not what was happening.

“What are you doing?”

“You didn’t really think I went into this without having a ‘ruin Scarecrow’s life’ plan.”

“I thought you were friends now.”

“You thought wrong.”

Maybe.

Tim considers trying to knock Jason out; there’s sedatives in that fridge, fast-acting ones. But he doesn’t know where Bruce is, Scarecrow is at large, and he’s not sure about, like allergies. The last thing he wants is to accidentally kill Jason for real this time.

Or for those sedatives to take a little too long, thus giving Jason the opportunity to kill Tim. That’s not good, either.

“Don’t get any ideas, Drake.” Damn. “You’re out of that cell because this is an all-hands-on-deck situation. Try anything, and I will put you down.” The or my men will is very much implied. “Scarecrow has Gordon.”

Somebody always has Gordon. Tim likes the man, but...but...honestly, over the years, he’s been kidnapped more than all three Robins combined.

His face must say as much, because Jason shrugs and says, “I know. Shocker, right? We know where he is, we’re going to handle it. But as much as it pains me to admit it, you can make yourself useful.”

[ihavesimpedovermanyfictionalmen]

Acting Class

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ᴀᴜꜱᴛɪɴ ʙᴜᴛʟᴇʀ x ꜰᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: ɪ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛꜱ ᴀꜱ ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ?, ᴏɴᴇ ᴋɪꜱꜱ…

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ᴀᴜꜱᴛɪɴ ᴀɴᴅ ʏ/ɴ ᴀʀᴇ ʙᴇꜱᴛ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀᴜꜱᴛɪɴ ꜰɪɴᴀʟʟʏ ᴄᴏɴᴠɪɴᴄᴇᴅ ʜᴇʀ ᴛᴏ ɢᴏ ᴛᴏ ᴀɴ ᴀᴄᴛɪɴɢ ᴄʟᴀꜱꜱ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜɪᴍ. ᴛʜɪɴɢꜱ ᴅɪᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ɢᴏ ᴀꜱ ʜᴇ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜ… ɴᴏᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʜᴇ'ꜱ ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴀɪɴɪɴɢ

a/n - i'm well aware this is the first post in AWHILE but, I was just thinking of this the other day after seeing an Insta Reel. Also should I continue the I Cannot Stand You Series? not my giff

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。゜。°。°。°。

The acting class was buzzing with energy, the kind of chaos that only improv exercises could create. Y/N and Austin sat off to the side, laughing as a fellow classmate dramatically threw themselves into a fake faint.

“Alright, next pair!” the instructor called out. “Austin, Y/N—you’re up!”

“Oh no,” Y/N groaned, shooting Austin a mock glare. “You better not mess this up.”

Austin smirked, already on his feet and extending a hand to her. “Mess up? Y/N, have a little faith. I’m the king of improv.”

“Uh-huh,” she muttered, letting him pull her to her feet.

The instructor waved a hand at them. “Your prompt is conflict. Hospital setting. One of you is a doctor, the other is a patient who doesn’t want to hear bad news. No script. Just go.”

They exchanged a quick look, and Y/N took the patient’s chair, slouching dramatically as if already defeated. Austin stood over her, arms crossed, slipping effortlessly into a concerned yet firm demeanor.

“Miss L/N,” he started, voice pitched low and serious. “The test results are in, and we need to talk.”

Y/N groaned, waving him off. “I’m fine, Doc. It’s probably just a cold. Or allergies. Or—I don’t know—a bad horoscope day.”

Austin pressed his lips into a thin line, already fighting a smile. “This isn’t a joke. If you don’t take this seriously, things could get worse.”

She sat up straighter, her eyes narrowing. “Why does everyone think they know what’s best for me? You’re not my keeper, Doc!”

“I’m trying to help you!” he snapped back, his voice rising just enough to sound genuine. “But you won’t listen to me!”

“Because I don’t want to hear it!” she shot back, standing up and invading his space, her face inches from his.

The room went silent, the other students leaning in as the tension between them thickened. Y/N’s breathing was fast, her chest rising and falling as she glared up at him.

And then, before she could think, she grabbed his face and kissed him.

The class collectively gasped, followed by bursts of laughter and applause. Austin froze, his hands hovering in the air as his brain struggled to catch up.

But then, like a switch flipping, he softened into the kiss. His hands found her waist, pulling her closer, and for a fleeting moment, the world around them disappeared.

When Y/N pulled back, her eyes wide with realization, her hands flew to her mouth. “Oh my God. I—I didn’t—”

She turned sharply, muttering a quick “sorry,” and made a beeline for the door, her face burning with embarrassment.

But Austin wasn’t about to let her leave. With a burst of speed, he vaulted over a nearby table, earning cheers and laughter from the class. He stumbled slightly but recovered, skidding to a stop in front of her.

“Wait!” he said, his voice breathless but steady.

She froze, staring at him like a deer caught in headlights. “Austin, I—I didn’t mean to—”

“You kissed me,” he said simply, his voice quieter now.

“It was the scene,” she blurted out, her words rushed.

“Was it?” he asked, a crooked smile tugging at his lips.

Y/N's silence was all the confirmation he needed. His smile softened, and he stepped closer, lowering his voice so only she could hear. “For the record, I liked it.”

Her jaw dropped, but before she could respond, the instructor called out from across the room, “Alright, break it up, you two lovebirds! Great scene!”

The class roared with laughter and applause, but Y/N and Austin just stood there, locked in each other’s gaze. As they returned to their seats, her cheeks still flaming, Austin leaned over and whispered, “We might need to rehearse that one later.”

Her heart skipped a beat, but she managed to roll her eyes and nudge him with her elbow. Still, she couldn’t shake the way his smile lingered—and the way her lips still tingled from his.

[nick-close]

I’ve had so much Meryl brainrot recently. King is ace/aro, king is in a qpr, king is sooooo unaware he’s autistic, king can tell you the stitching, fabric, and exact shade of the suit jacket you’re wearing and has 10 of the same suits in varying shades, he thinks he has a good understanding of social situations but really he just understands the very strict rules of formal events and social standing-

[royaltea000]

Qitian dasheng and other outfit concept sketches

[alvindraperzzz]

I get kind of annoyed when people say how much they miss YJ Cassie  and want DC to make her the way she was then, only to turn around and say how much they hate modern Cassie or how out of character they think she is. It doesn’t make sense. Since 2019, Cassie has been written more like she was in YJ than she has in a long time. This is a Cassie who isn’t weighed down by all the grief and trauma she went through in comics Graduation Day forward. She’s proactive and impulsive. She’s goofy and stubborn, acts like Diana and Donna’s little sister, and fangirls over superheroes. If something’s wrong then she’s going to interfere no matter who says she shouldn’t. She’s the closest DC is ever gonna get to bringing YJ Cassie back. If you don’t like her then maybe you should reassess whether you actually like the character, or if you only like the personality fandom assigned her based on a haircut she had twenty five years ago.

[hana-bobo-finch]

a strange trend in my favorite characters I realize is that I tend to heavily gravitate toward somewhat obscure, antagonistic forces

[mars-ipan]

i do love my family very dearly but the internalized ableism the men in here struggle with is. so much

[obsesssedblerd]

You look up from your book to see your husband standing over the bassinet with his arms crossed, his brow raising as he looks down inside of it with a tiny scowl. He stays like that for about a minute. You sit up in your shared bed, then call out to him. “Ryo.” 

“Hm.” He doesn’t look up. 

“May I ask what you are doing?” 

“The little brat is staring,” Sukuna says matter-of-factly. “I am simply staring at her in return.” 

Inside of the bassinet, your baby daughter coos. Her scarlet eyes—exactly like her father’s—glitter with interest. You hear her giggle, and you scoff lightly and return your gaze to your book. “She thinks you’re playing a game.” 

“I am doing no such thing.” 

You flip a page. “Put a hand over your face for a few seconds.” He doesn’t respond, but you know he listens. “M’kay, now lift.” There’s silence for a few seconds, then your daughter bursts into a fit of giggles. 

Sukuna rolls his eyes. “I do not understand what is so entertaining about that.” When you look up again, you see that he’s covering his face again, then revealing himself to get the same reaction from the baby.

“It’s called peek-a-boo. It’s a game most babies love to play.” 

The little princess babbles as she lifts her arms up, and Sukuna tilts his head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

You snicker. “One: You’ll figure out what she’s saying the more you talk with her. Two: She wants you to pick her up.” 

He sighs dramatically, then reaches into the bassinet to pick up the small girl. Though she has her father’s eyes, she has your hair, the shape of your nose, and your ears. She also has your fearlessness, because she smiles directly in the face of the king of curses. Now at his eye level, she reaches her arms towards him excitedly. “What is it now, you brat? I’m already carrying you.” 

He looks over at you in question, and your smile grows. “She wants to touch your face,” you say. 

“Why?” 

“Because she’s a baby, and she’s curious.” 

Sukuna pulls her closer, and once in range, his daughter lays her tiny hands against his marked face. She giggles more, and you can see his eyes soften. “Hmph. You have your mother’s smile.” 

— — — —

The next morning, you walk into the kitchen where you hear Sukuna speaking with someone. When he turns to the side, you see your daughter nestled in the crook of one of his muscular arms, staring up at him as he concluded whatever story he was telling her. 

“...At the end of the battle, only I remained. Victory was mine.” 

The baby babbles excitedly, and Sukuna scoffs. “Ha, you will do no such thing. How do you expect to join me in battle when you aren’t even a year old, brat?” 

Her face scrunches in what looks like annoyance, and she repeats to him what he taught her the night before. “Hmph.” 

You burst into laughter, and Sukuna raises a brow at the little girl in his arms. “Great. Your mother’s smile, and her attitude.”

[checkadii]

Horribly easily to tell if my dads drunk