#knack charlotte | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

keehomania · 9 days ago

Text

homesick — rcm (18+)

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ smut, fluff, minors dni, pining, childhood romance, soft!asshole!rafe, very conflicting lol mb, rafe is an asshole with a soft spot for you, could’ve just said it like that sry, sex is slightly sweeter than what i’m used to writing, i know you don’t need me right now, to you it’s just a late night out

longing for something was the most painful thing you could go through. it was the gray area between loving something and obtaining it, more often than not leaning toward loving rather than obtaining. everybody longed for something, at least once in their lives. you knew you did. you longed for everything you once had, everything that slipped through the cracks of your fingers like grains of sand. sand.

you longed for the feeling of sand beneath your bare feet, the scent of saltwater colliding with a freshly opened bottle of sunscreen, for the feeling of the wind in your hair just one more time. today, you would stop longing for it. you would reach the end of the spectrum after twelve long years and pray it would feel the way it did when things were easier.

the car door creaked open, and you stepped out, blinking as the sun met your face. the morning light was blinding, casting a golden glow over the familiar yet unfamiliar streets. your legs ached from the long drive, but it was the dull throb in your chest that you couldn’t shake. something was brewing in the pit of your stomach, poisoning your soul and making your heart clench. nostalgia.

it coursed through your veins, a bittersweet sensation that left you teetering between comfort and pain. everything felt the same, but nothing didn’t look the same. the sun was just as bright, but maybe there were more people now than you’d anticipated. there were more shops lining the streets, more boats anchored at the docks. more had a knack for being better than less, but the difference didn’t sit well with you.

you locked your car, the sharp click echoing louder than you expected in the stillness of the early morning. you promised yourself you’d return for your things later. for now, you needed to jog your memory. the air smelled of salt and sunblock, a scent so ingrained in your childhood that it almost made you choke up. your feet carried you instinctively, down streets you didn’t have to think twice about, past houses that seemed to carry fragments of your past.

you loved your father, because he was so much more than your father. he was your hero, your role model, the man who checked for monsters under your bed and whispered bedtime stories when you couldn’t sleep. he had a quiet strength about him, the kind that made you feel safe no matter how chaotic the world around you became. he was patient, endlessly so, and always seemed to know exactly what to say, even when there were no words to mend the situation.

he had spent his entire life taking care of you, alongside your mother. together, they had built a world where you never felt the weight of their struggles, only the warmth of their love. your mother was the heart of that world, as much a protector as your father was. she had a laugh that could brighten even the darkest days, and a way of knowing what you needed before you ever said a word. you loved them equally, because there was no father who could do it without a mother there, and no mother who could do it without a father by her side.

but you also loved the outer banks. you loved the place you grew up in, the salty air that clung to your skin, the way the waves crashed against the shore in a rhythm that felt like home. you loved the endless summers, the laughter that echoed through the streets of figure 8, and the friendships that felt as unshakable as the tides. yet, when it came down to leaving it, you did what was necessary.

it was three weeks after your mother had gone on a business trip, one in charlotte, just a few hours away. three weeks. that was all it took for everything to unravel. your father had gotten the call two days before he told you, and you could see the heaviness in his eyes, the way his shoulders carried the weight of a decision he didn’t want to make. but he knew—he knew you couldn’t spare another second there. it was time to leave.

and when the time came, it was done quickly, like ripping off a bandage. nobody could hear of it. even if they did, there was nothing they could do about it. lord knows they tried. ward and rose were the first to reach out, their voices frantic, pleading for answers. you remembered the way your father’s jaw tightened as he ended the call, refusing to explain, to argue, to justify. you had been too young to understand, but old enough to sense the finality of it all.

the last you heard, their family had become somewhat of a mess. the perfect veneer of the camerons had cracked, exposing something raw and broken underneath. you tried not to think about it too much, but it seemed impossible. every street, every house, every crashing wave brought memories rushing back, unbidden and unstoppable. but you pushed them down, telling yourself there was no use in dredging up the past—not yet, anyway.

the houses you passed were a symphony of elegance and familiarity, each one a beacon of the wealth that had defined figure 8 for generations. they stood tall and proud, their façades polished to perfection. you could see the care etched into every detail—the manicured lawns with grass so green it seemed unreal, the trimmed hedges sculpted into geometric shapes, and the vibrant flowers lining cobblestone pathways.

the porches were wide and welcoming, adorned with rocking chairs and hanging flower baskets swaying gently in the breeze. some houses boasted wraparound balconies, their railings painted crisp white, while others had large bay windows that gleamed under the sun, curtains drawn just enough to reveal a hint of the lavish interiors within.

you noticed the details, the things you’d forgotten until now: the way the golden plaques glinted with family names, the faint sound of wind chimes echoing from porches, the occasional bark of a dog from behind wrought-iron gates. it was all so familiar, yet so distant, like a photograph you had stared at for so long that it felt unreal.

as you walked, memories followed, clinging to you like the humid air. they weren’t all of this place—most of them were of him. you had no issue remembering him. the problem was forgetting him, something you could never bring yourself to do no matter how hard you tried.

the memory struck you like a wave. You were six years old, standing in this very neighborhood. your parents had just moved in, and the camerons had wasted no time in welcoming you. you could still see it vividly: rafe, two years older than you, standing with his arms crossed, his nose slightly upturned like he was better than everyone else in the room.

you remembered the way you’d clung to your father’s leg, peeking out only to find his piercing blue eyes staring back at you with a mischievous glint. he was mean, even then. spoiled. his first words to you were, “your hair looks funny.”

your cheeks burned at the memory, the sting of his words fresh even after all these years. you could still hear your mother laughing softly, your father gently patting your shoulder, and ward scolding his son. but then there was sarah. sweet, sunny sarah, who had marched right up to her older brother and smacked him on the arm. “stop being mean, rafe!” she had said with all the conviction her five-year-old self could muster.

and then she turned to you, her eyes wide and sparkling with sincerity. “i like your hair,” she had said, her voice gentle, her small hand reaching out to yours.

“i like yours, too,” you had replied, the tears in your eyes disappearing in an instant.

“wanna be friends?” she asked, tilting her head.

“sure,” you had said, a grin breaking through your tears.

rafe had rolled his eyes then, muttering something under his breath as if he couldn’t believe the exchange happening right in front of him. now, as you walked, you couldn’t help but smile at the thought. it was so vivid, so alive, as if it had happened just yesterday. but you wondered—was he the same? had he changed at all, or was he even meaner now?

the shops along the way were a kaleidoscope of charm and nostalgia. their exteriors were bright and inviting, painted in pastel shades of pink, blue, and yellow, with hand-painted signs swaying gently in the breeze. glass display windows showcased trinkets and souvenirs—everything from handwoven baskets to seashell jewelry and t-shirts with “outer banks” scrawled across them in bold, faded lettering. the aroma of fresh pastries wafted from a bakery, mingling with the salty air and drawing a smile to your face.

you paused at a familiar ice cream parlor, its striped awning unchanged after all these years. the sight of children clamoring for cones, their faces smeared with chocolate and strawberry, made your chest ache. it reminded you of summers spent running through these streets, rafe and sarah in tow, chasing the melting sweetness before it dripped down your arms.

the path narrowed as you moved closer to the beach, the buildings giving way to sand dunes and patches of seagrass. the sound of waves crashing against the shore grew louder, accompanied by the cries of seagulls circling above. the salty air thickened, wrapping around you like an old friend. and then, as the beach came into view, the memory struck.

you had just turned seven, the world still a canvas of endless possibility. you were on the beach with sarah, the two of you crouched in the sand, determined to build the most magnificent sandcastle the outer banks had ever seen.

“we get to be the princesses, right?” you asked, your small hands gripping a bright red bucket as you filled it with wet sand.

“yeah! rafe can be the guard,” sarah replied, her tone decisive as she smoothed out the castle walls.

just a few feet away, rafe sat with his legs crossed, focused on his fishing gear. he had been trying to teach himself to fish, his brow furrowed in concentration as he prepared the bait. ward had given him some of his more expensive gear that morning, clearly hoping his son would find purpose in the sport.

you couldn’t help but frown, suddenly dissatisfied with the childish simplicity of your sandcastle compared to the serious task rafe was undertaking. “i wanna try that, too,” you declared, abandoning your bucket and scrambling toward him.

he barely spared you a glance, scoffing as he tied a knot. “as if. you don’t know how to fish.”

you planted your hands on your hips, standing beside him with a determined pout. “why can’t you teach me?” you challenged, tilting your head. then, with a sly grin, you added, “you don’t know either.”

that got his attention. he turned to you with a dramatic sigh, his face a mixture of annoyance and reluctant amusement. “i know how to fish,” he insisted, standing up and brushing the sand from his shorts. “fine, i’ll teach you. but don’t cry when you mess it up.”

he reached for your hands, his grip surprisingly gentle as he guided you toward the rod. his blue eyes softened, though his voice remained gruff. “first, you hold it like this,” he explained, positioning your hands on the handle. “not too tight, or you’ll mess up the cast. got it?”

you nodded eagerly, your small hands dwarfed by the rod as you mimicked his movements.

“now, watch carefully,” he said, stepping behind you to adjust your stance. his hands covered yours, steady and sure, as he helped you draw the rod back. “when i say ‘go,’ you flick it forward. like this—”

“go!”

the line soared into the water, the bait landing with a soft plop. your face lit up with excitement, and you turned to him, beaming. “i did it!”

he rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward in a small smile. “barely. don’t get cocky.”

you laughed, unbothered by his tone. “thanks, rafey.”

“whatever,” he muttered, but there was a flicker of pride in his expression as he returned to his spot.

even then, he was a contradiction—tough on the outside, but with glimpses of something softer beneath the surface. as you stood on the shore now, the memory faded, replaced by the crashing waves and the unanswered question: had he changed? or had time only sharpened his edges?

the beach stretched out before you, golden and endless, shimmering beneath the late morning sun. the air was thick with the scent of salt and sunscreen, the sound of waves mingling with the occasional bark of a dog or the laughter of children playing nearby. seagulls circled above, their cries sharp but oddly soothing, a familiar soundtrack to a place you once called home.

you slipped off your shoes and stepped onto the sand, warm and soft, a sensation you hadn’t felt in years. the grains clung to your skin, and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. it was as if the beach itself were welcoming you back, whispering that some things never changed, no matter how much time passed.

a crowd had gathered in the middle of the shoreline, their figures blending together in the bright sunlight. you couldn’t make out any faces, but the hum of their voices and the sight of carefree movement filled the air with life. despite the busyness of the scene, the beach itself remained a sanctuary—a timeless, comforting space. the wind tousled your hair, and for a moment, you closed your eyes, letting the nostalgia wash over you. it brought you back to a day much like this one, years ago, when the beach had been alive.

your parents had joined ward and rose for a picnic, the two families spreading out a blanket beneath the shade of an umbrella. everyone had been vibrant, so alive. the adults laughed and chatted over glasses of chilled wine, while you and sarah shared slices of watermelon, sticky juice dripping down your chins. she had her head resting on your shoulder, her blonde hair tickling your cheek as you both giggled over nothing in particular.

“it’s really sweet,” you’d said, savoring another bite.

ward had turned to you with a smile, always proud of his ability to impress. “imported from south america,” he’d explained. “you like it?”

you and sarah had nodded enthusiastically, neither of you having a clue in the world what a south america was. the sweetness of the fruit a perfect match for the sunlit day. but as you turned your gaze toward the water, you noticed rafe sitting alone by the shore. he was quiet, his toes buried in the gentle surf, drawing patterns in the wet sand with a stick. there was a tension to him, a nervous energy that seemed out of place amidst the carefree atmosphere.

you set down your half-eaten slice and rose to your feet, brushing sand from your legs. “i’m gonna go check on rafe,” you told sarah, who only shrugged and returned to her watermelon.

as you approached, he glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, scoffing lightly. “you’re all sticky,” he muttered, the faintest hint of amusement in his voice.

you grinned, unbothered. “are you hungry?” you asked, crouching beside him.

he shook his head, the stick in his hand still tracing lines in the sand. you frowned, leaning closer. “what’s wrong?”

for a moment, he didn’t answer, his usual bravado replaced by something softer. finally, he turned to you, his blue eyes filled with a quiet uncertainty. “i have to tell you something,” he said, his voice low.

“what’s wrong, rafey?” you pressed, your concern genuine.

he fidgeted, the stick falling forgotten into the sand as he reached into his pocket. When he turned back to you, his hand was outstretched, holding a small metal ring. it was simple, almost too small, as though it had once belonged to a charm bracelet—or maybe it was something he’d found in rose’s jewelry box or bought with the few dollars he had.

“what’s that?” you asked, curiosity lighting up your face.

“i got it for you,” he said, his tone serious, almost awkward.

“why?”

his gaze dropped to the sand, his cheeks reddening. “because i’m gonna marry you when we grow up.”

you gasped, your excitement bubbling over. “really?”

“yeah,” he mumbled, looking at you with a mixture of pride and embarrassment. “so, here.”

without hesitation, you threw your arms around him, sticky hands and all. “thank you, rafey!”

“stop, you’re still sticky,” he protested, his voice muffled against your shoulder, but he didn’t pull away.

instead, you took his hand, tugging him to his feet. “come on!” you exclaimed, dragging him back toward the picnic.

as you reached the blanket, you held up the ring proudly. “rafe and i are gonna get married!” you announced, your voice loud enough to draw the attention of everyone there.

rafe’s face turned scarlet, his hands stuffed into his pockets as laughter erupted around you. even rose, who was usually so composed, chuckled warmly at the sight of her son’s flustered expression.

sarah ran to you, throwing her arms around your neck. “yes! you’ll get to be my real sister!” she cheered, her enthusiasm matching your own.

the memory made your chest tighten as you stood on the beach now, watching the waves roll in and out. how simple things had been then, how full of joy and possibility. the weight of the years since that day pressed down on you, and you couldn’t help but wonder: had rafe ever thought about it? had he ever remembered that promise?

the sound of the crowd jolted you from your thoughts, pulling you back to the present. laughter, cheers, and the unmistakable hum of engines filled the air, growing louder with every passing second. Intrigued, you turned toward the commotion, your curiosity outweighing the tranquility the beach had offered moments before.

you wove your way through the crowd, dodging elbows and shifting bodies as you tried to get a better look. the closer you got, the more the scene came into view. dirt bikes, sleek and muddied, were scattered along the sand, their riders gathered near the starting line. the crowd pressed in around them, forming a makeshift arena.

at the center of it all were three men who stood apart from the rest, their presence commanding attention. two of them were on one side, seemingly strategizing. one had curly hair that bounced with every movement, his wiry frame radiating energy. the other was blond and lean, his sharp jawline illuminated by the sunlight. a few feet away stood the third man, tall and broad-shouldered, his blond hair buzzed short. even from a distance, there was a quiet intensity to him that made him stand out.

you tapped the shoulder of the girl beside you, who was cheering loudly. “what’s all this?” you asked, your voice just loud enough to be heard over the roar of the crowd.

she turned to you, her eyebrows furrowed as if surprised you didn’t already know. “you’re not from here, huh?” she asked.

you hesitated before replying, “not recently.”

“it’s the kildare enduro,” she explained, a hint of excitement in her voice. “biggest race of the summer. you’re in for a show.”

the name didn’t ring any bells, and you realized this must have been something new, something that had started after you’d left. still, the anticipation in the air was contagious, and you found yourself eager to see what all the fuss was about.

engines revved, the sound sharp and exhilarating as the riders mounted their bikes. the crowd roared as the signal was given, and within seconds, the racers were off, their tires kicking up sand as they sped down the makeshift track.

the racers weaved skillfully around obstacles, their movements a blur of precision and daring. the man with frosted tips was quick, taking sharp turns with practiced ease, his bike seeming to glide over the sand. the lean blond wasn’t far behind, his focus evident in the way he leaned into every curve, his bike roaring as he pushed it to its limits.

but it was the third man who drew your attention most. he was fast, incredibly so, his broad shoulders steady as he maneuvered through the course with calculated aggression. every movement was controlled, deliberate, as though he knew exactly how far he could push the bike without losing control.

the race was a spectacle, a blend of more speed, less skill, and pure adrenaline. the crowd erupted into cheers as the racers hit the halfway mark, neck and neck. it wasn’t until the blond man attempted a daring jump over a dune that things took a turn. his landing was rough, causing his bike to wobble dangerously before he recovered. he seized the opportunity, pulling ahead with a burst of speed, but the tall blond wasn’t far behind. they pushed their bikes to the brink, sand flying in every direction as they closed in on the finish line.

just as it seemed the tall blond had the race in the bag, the one with frosted tips made his move, attempting to overtake him on the final stretch. their bikes collided briefly, sending both riders skidding across the sand. gasps rippled through the crowd as the tall blond man capitalized on the chaos, speeding past the lean one to take second place.

the race was over before it even started, but the energy in the air was electric. you found yourself pushing closer, eager to see the aftermath. the tall blond, covered in sand and visibly frustrated, rose to his feet. he glanced toward the lean blond, who was still brushing himself off, their exchange charged with tension. and then he turned.

for a moment, his piercing blue eyes locked onto yours. there was something achingly familiar about him—the shape of his jaw, the intensity of his gaze. it was as though you’d seen him before, in another life perhaps, but the memory was just out of reach. your heart raced as he continued to stare, his expression unreadable.

you hesitated as the scene unfolded before you, your gaze fixed on the lean blond. a group of people ran toward him, their laughter and shouts mingling with the lingering roar of the crowd. one of them threw their arms around him, but the others had snapped like a twig, shoving him, yelling at him. you couldn’t help but stare, curiosity hitting you.

the realization hit you—you stuck out like a sore thumb, gawking as if you didn’t belong, and you probably didn’t. you started to shift back into the crowd when a gentle touch on your shoulder jolted you. you spun around, your heart leaping into your throat, and froze.

she didn’t need a single word of introduction. the familiar honey-blonde hair, the sharp yet kind eyes, the bright smile etched into your childhood memories—it was unmistakably her.

“sarah?” the name tumbled from your lips before you could stop it.

her eyes widened, her hand flying to her mouth as if to stop herself from crying out. shock rippled across her face, her features softening and trembling all at once. she didn’t say a word, not at first. she just stood there, eyes scanning your face like she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

then, suddenly, her arms were around you, pulling you into a tight embrace. “oh my god,” she breathed, her voice quivering with disbelief. her grip was strong, desperate, as though letting go would make you vanish again.

the eyes of her friends were on you, you could feel their curious stares, but you didn’t care. at least now, you knew it was really her.

“sarah,” you repeated, your voice cracking. the name felt strange on your tongue after so many years, but it was real. she was real.

“it can’t be you,” she whispered, her breath hitching. “it can’t be.” she pulled back just enough to look at you, her hands gripping your shoulders as tears pooled in her eyes. her gaze darted across your features, her trembling lips curving into a smile of disbelief. “it’s you,” she said again, shaking her head, her voice catching in her throat. “it’s really you.”

tears blurred your vision, your chest tightening as you threw your arms around her this time. you held on tightly, suppressing the sobs clawing at your throat. “sarah,” you said again, her name a lifeline tethering you to the moment.

“are you—are you back?” she asked breathlessly, pulling back just enough to search your face. her voice was thick with emotion, her words tumbling out in a rush. “are you back for good?”

“i am,” you managed, your voice shaky but sure. “i’m back, sarah. for good this time.”

she laughed through her tears, pressing a hand to her chest like she couldn’t believe it. “you have no idea,” she began, her voice breaking, “how much i’ve missed you. how much we’ve missed you.”

she turned then, gesturing toward her group of friends who had been watching the reunion unfold. “guys, this is,” She paused, the words catching in her throat as she turned back to you, her eyes still wide with disbelief. “this is my best friend growing up. this is—”

you gave them a nervous smile as sarah continued, her excitement bubbling over. she rattled off introductions, naming each of them—jj, the boy with the shaggy blonde hair who had lost the race; john b, whose gaze lingered on you with a kind curiosity; and a few others who smiled warmly despite the obvious confusion etched on their faces. they greeted you with nods and hesitant smiles, but you barely registered it. your heart was pounding, your focus still tethered to sarah.

then, almost without thinking, you asked the question. “is rafe here?”

sarah’s face shifted, a flicker of something unreadable crossing her features. you noticed jj and john b exchange a quick glance, something unspoken passing between them.

“he was just here,” sarah finally said, her voice quieter now, almost cautious. “racing.”

the realization hit you like a wave, the memory of the second racer—the tall blond with the piercing blue eyes—crashing over you. your breath caught in your throat as the pieces fell into place. the familiarity you’d felt, the tension in his gaze—it had been him.

you blinked, the realization sinking in deeper than you wanted it to. that had been rafe. older, rougher around the edges, but still undeniably him. you barely heard sarah when she grabbed your hand and said, “come on, let’s head back to john b’s. we can talk there.” her friends nodded, beginning to walk, and you followed them automatically, your feet moving on instinct as your mind raced. sarah walked beside you, her hand gripping yours like she was afraid you’d disappear again.

the walk to john b’s house stretched longer than you anticipated, the weight of sarah’s questions and the unfamiliar tension in her friends' eyes making the air feel thicker than it should have. the sound of your footsteps crunched against the gravel path, each step sinking deeper into the realization that you were walking into a life that no longer felt like your own. the salty breeze carried the faint scent of bonfires and ocean spray, and yet it did little to settle the nerves curling in your stomach.

sarah had stayed close, her hand brushing yours occasionally as if afraid you might disappear again if she didn’t tether you somehow. you glanced sideways at her, taking in the subtle changes in her features—she was still sarah, but her edges had softened, her face more weathered by years of joy and hardship than the carefree girl you’d once known.

when the small house came into view, you nearly stopped in your tracks. it wasn’t the grand estate where you used to sit on the veranda sipping iced tea or sneaking snacks with sarah when ward wasn’t looking. it was modest, its weathered exterior standing in defiant contrast to the glossy life sarah had grown up in. surfboards leaned against the porch, the peeling paint whispered of simpler days, and the scent of fried food wafted from an open window.

“this is where you live now?” you asked softly, unable to mask the disbelief in your tone.

sarah hesitated, then nodded. “yeah,” she said, her voice carrying a mix of pride and resignation. “it’s home.”

you didn’t say anything else, but you couldn’t help wondering what had happened to bring her here. what had pulled her away from the life you once knew?

inside, the house was alive with chatter and movement, the kind of casual chaos you could only find among close friends. jj had thrown himself onto the couch, beer in hand, while kiara rummaged through a drawer for something. john b stood by the kitchen, leaning against the counter, his eyes flicking between you and sarah as if trying to read the situation.

but sarah didn’t let you linger in the room’s atmosphere for long. she tugged you toward the porch, where the sound of the waves was clearer, the salty breeze brushing against your skin. you sank onto the steps beside her, the wood warm beneath you from the day’s sun. for a moment, neither of you spoke.

“how could you?” she asked suddenly, her voice breaking the stillness like a clap of thunder.

you turned to her, startled. “what?”

her gaze was locked on the horizon, her hands gripping the edge of the step. “how could you just leave? how could you stay quiet for twelve years?” her voice trembled, her pain spilling out in waves.

you swallowed hard, the knot in your throat tightening. “sarah, i—”

“you didn’t even say goodbye,” she interrupted, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “you just disappeared. do you have any idea what that did to me? to all of us?”

your breath hitched, and you looked down at your hands, unable to meet her gaze. “i didn’t have a choice,” you said quietly.

her head snapped toward you, her expression a mix of confusion and anger. “what does that even mean?”

“something happened,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “something horrible. and i couldn’t stay. i had to face it.”

her anger melted away, replaced by a sorrow so deep it made your chest ache. “what happened?” she asked softly, her hand reaching for yours.

you shook your head, biting back the emotions threatening to spill over. “i can’t talk about it. not yet.”

she nodded slowly, her fingers tightening around yours. “okay,” she said, her voice steady despite the tears in her eyes. “but promise me you’ll tell me one day.”

“i promise,” you said, your voice cracking under the weight of the moment. the silence returned, heavier this time, until you found the courage to break it. “what about rafe?”

her breath caught, and she pulled her hand back, folding her arms tightly across her chest. “what about him?”

“i need to see him,” you said, your heart pounding.

kiara’s voice cut in from the doorway, sharp and unflinching. “you don’t want to do that.”

you turned to her, frowning. “why not?”

“because nobody here is friends with rafe,” she said, her tone laced with bitterness.

you turned back to sarah, your stomach sinking. “what does she mean? what happened to him?”

sarah’s expression darkened, and she looked away, her fingers tracing invisible patterns on the wood. “he’s not the same,” she said finally. “he’s gotten into some bad things. drugs. crime. hurting people. he’s not the rafe you remember.”

the words hit you like a punch to the gut, the air rushing from your lungs. “no,” you whispered, shaking your head. “that can’t be true.”

“he tried to kill me,” sarah said, her voice trembling. “he’s different now.”

you stared at her, your mind racing, memories of the boy you once knew flashing before your eyes. without thinking, you stood, your chest tight and your breathing uneven. “i need a minute,” you muttered, stepping off the porch.

“wait,” sarah said, her gaze dropping to your hand. her brow furrowed as she leaned closer. “you still have that?”

you followed her gaze to the small metal ring on your pinky, its once shiny surface now dull and worn. “i haven’t taken it off,” you said quietly. “not once these twelve years.”

her breath hitched, and tears filled her eyes. “he gave you that,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

you nodded, your throat tightening. “he did.”

she reached out, her fingers brushing against the ring. “even after everything?”

you swallowed hard, the weight of the ring heavier than ever. “especially after everything.”

her tears spilled over, and she pulled you into a hug, her breath shaky against your shoulder. “we’ll find him,” she said softly. “we’ll fix this. somehow.” but as you pulled away, the doubt lingered in her eyes—and in yours.

your walk was slow, your feet dragging against the dusty path as your mind swirled with thoughts of what sarah had told you. the crisp evening air nipped at your skin, and the faint hum of crickets filled the silence. your fingers brushed against the cool metal of the ring on your pinky, twisting it around absentmindedly as you tried to piece together how everything could have gone so wrong.

the roadside bar loomed ahead, a place frozen in time. its weathered wooden sign creaked faintly in the breeze, illuminated by a flickering neon light that buzzed softly. this was a place your father and ward used to frequent, their laughter and hushed conversations floating in your memory like ghosts. you hesitated for a moment, gripping the ring tighter before pushing open the heavy door.

the smell of stale beer and cigarette smoke hit you first, the dim light casting shadows that danced across the scuffed wooden floor. the low murmur of voices and the crack of pool balls filled the room, but the moment you stepped inside, it felt like every pair of eyes turned to you. men leaned against the bar, their gazes lingering a little too long, and a few heads turned in the corner where a card game was underway. your pulse quickened, and you adjusted your stance, trying not to show the nerves that prickled beneath your skin.

you found an empty stool near the bar and slid onto it, the worn leather cool against your legs. the bartender, a woman with kind eyes and a bright smile, approached. she leaned slightly over the counter, her voice warm. “hi, sugar, what can i get you?”

her friendliness put you at ease, and you adjusted yourself on the stool, thinking back to the times you had sat on your father’s lap here as a child, the smell of whiskey and tobacco clinging to his clothes. you tried to remember what he would order, something simple, something that wouldn’t make you stand out.

“just a beer, thanks,” you answered, your voice steady despite the nerves fluttering in your chest.

she nodded and moved to grab a bottle, setting it down in front of you with a napkin. you paid, sliding the money across the counter, and took a sip, the bitter taste grounding you in the moment.

as you sat there, you let your thoughts wander. you thought about sarah’s words, about how rafe had spiraled into a person you could barely recognize. you thought about the ring on your finger, its weight heavier now than ever, and how you’d kept it on all these years as a symbol of a bond you once thought unbreakable. the sound of the door opening barely registered until you heard the voice.

“gin straight.”

it was deep, rough, and unmistakable. your stomach churned, your breath caught in your throat, and before you could stop yourself, you turned.

there he was, standing a few feet away at the bar, his profile sharp against the dim light. his buzzed hair was shorter than you remembered, his jaw more defined, but it was the same face that had haunted your memories for over a decade. he turned slowly, almost as if he could feel your gaze on him, and when his eyes locked onto yours, the world seemed to tilt off its axis.

it all stopped. the noise, the movement, the air in your lungs. everything came to a grinding halt as his piercing blue eyes met yours.

“rafe,” you exhaled, so quietly you weren’t sure if the word even escaped your lips, but it did.

his gaze stayed on you, unblinking, unreadable. for a moment, he didn’t move, as if frozen in place. then, hesitantly, he stepped closer. you held your breath as he reached out, his hand brushing yours as he lifted it to inspect the ring on your pinky.

he turned your hand slightly, his thumb grazing the metal as his jaw tensed. the silence between you was deafening, his face a mixture of disbelief and something you couldn’t place. but then, as quickly as he had reached for you, he let go, your hand falling limply to your side.

“rafe, please,” you said, your voice louder this time, tinged with desperation.

“no,” his response was barely audible, but the weight of it crushed you. he shook his head, stepping back. “no, you don’t get to do this.”

you blinked, your heart breaking at the quiet finality in his tone. “do what?” you asked, your voice trembling.

“you don’t get to come back after twelve years and act like everything’s the same,” he said, his voice low but sharp. “you don’t get to look at me like that.”

he grabbed his jacket from the stool beside him, abandoning the drink he’d ordered. you reached for him, stepping closer, but he moved away, his movements hurried, as if he couldn’t get out fast enough.

“rafe, wait!” you called after him, but he didn’t stop.

the door swung shut behind him, and you were left standing there, your heart in pieces on the scuffed wooden floor. you sat back down slowly, your hands trembling as you picked up your beer, the cool glass doing little to steady your nerves. tears pricked at your eyes, but you blinked them away, unwilling to break down in front of the strangers still watching you. the ring on your finger seemed heavier now, its meaning twisted and warped by the person rafe had become.

the world seemed to turn on you as you staggered along the dirt path, the alcohol buzzing in your veins far more than you'd intended. you cursed under your breath—why did you even drink in the first place? the bar was supposed to be a brief stop, a distraction. now, here you were, stumbling through the outskirts of town, hopelessly lost.

the cool night air pricked your skin, and you wrapped your arms around yourself for warmth. trees loomed overhead, their branches tangling into an almost suffocating canopy as you ventured deeper into unfamiliar woods. your steps were uneven, crunching against the dry leaves and snapping twigs underfoot. the stillness was eerie, broken only by the distant sound of crickets and the occasional rustle of something unseen.

you didn’t realize you had stopped until you heard faint voices carried on the breeze. they were low, hurried, almost conspiratorial. your muddled brain told you to turn around and leave, but something else—a mixture of curiosity and recklessness—drew you forward.

as you approached, the silhouettes of two figures came into view, faintly illuminated by the pale moonlight breaking through the trees. one was shorter, stocky, with buzzed, dark hair, a mustache, and a chain glinting around his neck. he was gesturing animatedly, his hands moving with the urgency of someone trying to make a quick deal. the other man stood taller, his broad shoulders stiff, his body language more guarded. it wasn’t until your unfocused gaze settled on his profile that your breath hitched in your throat.

even through the haze of alcohol, you could recognize him. the strong jawline, the tense set of his shoulders, the way he ran a hand through his short blond hair—it was unmistakable. but this rafe was different. the sight of him clutching a small, crumpled bag of powder made your stomach churn.

your eyes darted between the two men, trying to piece together the scene in front of you. money exchanged hands, crisp bills slipping from rafe’s grasp to the other man’s. the bag of powder followed, its stark white contents nearly glowing in the faint light. your chest tightened as the reality of what you were seeing hit you. a twig snapped beneath your foot.

both heads snapped in your direction instantly, their movements sharp and alert. rafe’s eyes widened, his entire body tensing as he registered your presence.

you took a step forward, anger and disbelief swirling together in a volatile mix. “really, rafe?” the words came out harsher than you intended, but you couldn’t stop them. “this is what you’ve been up to?”

the shorter man frowned, his expression shifting into one of irritation. “excuse me,” he said with a mocking edge, “this is a private transaction.”

you ignored him, your focus locked on rafe. he sighed heavily, dragging a hand down his face as if trying to summon patience. fully turning to you, his jaw clenched tight, he spoke with a tone that brooked no argument. “this doesn’t concern you.”

“who's this, country club?” the dark-haired man asked with an amused smirk. “got yourself a girlfriend?”

rafe didn’t answer, but the anger in his eyes was unmistakable. it wasn’t just anger—it was frustration, shame, and something deeper, something raw.

your own emotions bubbled over. “you know what? fine.” you reached into your pocket, fumbling for your wallet. “i’ll join the fun. i want some too.”

rafe’s reaction was immediate. he grabbed your wrist, his grip firm but not painful, his eyes boring into yours with a mixture of disbelief and fury. “what the hell are you doing?”

“what?” you shrugged, yanking your arm free as you pulled out a few bills. “you can have fun, and i can’t?”

he leaned closer, lowering his voice to a furious hiss. “you think this is fun?” his eyes darted to the other man, who was now watching with an amused grin, clearly entertained by the unfolding drama. rafe’s attention snapped back to you, his expression dark. “i’m dealing with shit, okay? now, i know you’ve been gone for a while, but this—” he gestured around him, his tone bitter—“this is the way things are now.”

you let out a hollow laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. “dealing with shit? this is your solution?”

rafe clenched his jaw, his hands flexing at his sides. for a moment, it seemed like he might say something, but instead, he abruptly slammed the small bag of powder onto the ground, startling both you and his associate. without another word, he grabbed your arm, yanking you away from the scene with a force that left no room for argument. the shorter man called after him, his voice dripping with annoyance, but rafe didn’t even glance back.

you wrenched your arm free from rafe’s grasp, the momentum staggering you backward a step. his grip had been strong, almost desperate, and as you finally stood still, you took him in.

the years hadn’t been kind, and yet, they had. he was sharper somehow, more defined. his jawline was stronger, his shoulders broader, but his eyes—god, his eyes. the bright blue you remembered so vividly had dimmed, clouded over with something you couldn’t quite name. he looked good, and yet, he looked like a man you barely recognized.

“what the hell is your problem?” the words slipped out before you could stop them, your voice sharp and cutting.

rafe was already pacing, his hands on his hips, his head tilting back as he let out a bitter laugh. he dragged his palms down his face, his movements frantic, unstable. “what’s my problem?” he repeated, his voice laced with mockery. “let’s see, what’s my problem?” he turned to face you, his expression twisted with something you couldn’t quite name—anger, hurt, disbelief, maybe all of it at once. “maybe it has to do with you, showing up after twelve years.”

his words hit like a slap, but he wasn’t done. “i mean, what’d you think? that we’d hug, hold hands, shed a few tears? that it’d be like old times?” his voice rose as he took a step closer. “after you left? after you left?”

the weight of his words made your chest tighten, guilt curling in your stomach like a living thing. you opened your mouth to respond, but he cut you off, his voice growing louder, more unstable. “you thought we’d just pick things up where we left off? are you that delusional?”

he leaned in close, his face inches from yours, and jabbed his fingers against his temple as if trying to make sense of it all. his words spilled out in a rushed, angry torrent, each one hitting you like a blow. “you left, and you stayed gone. you didn’t call, didn’t write. hell, you didn’t even think to check if i was still breathing.”

“she died, rafe,” you said, your voice cracking under the weight of your words.

the sentence stopped him mid-rant. his pacing halted, his brow furrowing as he turned to look at you, truly look at you, for the first time. “what are you talking about?” he asked, his voice quieter but no less intense. “who died?”

your chest tightened, and it took everything in you to speak the words aloud. “my mom, rafe,” you said, the pain evident in every syllable. “she died, and we had to go back. we didn’t have a choice. and when we did, we couldn’t face coming back here. it was too much—it’s still too much.”

rafe’s face crumbled, the anger draining from his expression as sorrow took its place. he ran a hand through his hair, his gaze dropping to the ground as he processed your words. your mom. the woman who had always cared for him in ways his own mother never had. the woman who had bandaged his scraped knees and made him dinner when rose was too busy entertaining guests. she was gone.

the silence stretched between you, heavy and suffocating. finally, rafe spoke, his voice softer than before. “why are you back?”

you swallowed hard, your hands trembling at your sides. “i came back for you,” you answered, your voice steady despite the tears welling in your eyes.

for a brief moment, something in his face softened—something familiar, something achingly rafe. but then he shook his head, his gaze hardening once more. “don’t,” he murmured, almost a plea. “i’m not the same person anymore, and i haven’t been for a long time.”

“i don’t care, rafe,” you shot back, your voice rising with desperation. “nothing could ever change the way i see you. please—”

“stop.”

“no,” you interrupted, your heart breaking with every word. “i know you, rafe. i know who you are underneath all of this. you’re still the same boy i grew up with, the same boy who—”

“stop!” his voice cracked, loud and raw, silencing you. he took a step back, his chest heaving as he struggled to keep himself together. “you don’t know me anymore. you don’t know what i’ve done, what i’ve become. you don’t want this, trust me.”

“i do,” you insisted, tears streaming down your face. “i want you. i came back for you because i never stopped caring. please, rafe, just—”

“i can’t,” he said, his voice breaking as he turned away. he grabbed his jacket from the ground, his movements hurried and clumsy. “i can’t do this.”

“rafe, please!” you called after him, your voice echoing through the trees. but he didn’t turn around. he walked away, his figure disappearing into the shadows, leaving you standing there, shattered and alone.

your knees gave out, and you collapsed to the ground, sobs wracking your body. the ache in your chest was unbearable, like someone had reached in and ripped your heart out. you buried your face in your hands, the cold dirt beneath you offering little comfort. your head throbbed, the pain sharp and unrelenting. the world around you spun, the trees and stars blending together into a dizzying blur. and then, everything went black.

rafe clutched the steering wheel with both hands, his knuckles white as he sped down the dark, empty streets. the tears that streaked his cheeks blurred his vision, but he didn’t care. he couldn’t stop the flood now. this was his only safe place to fall apart—behind the wheel, alone in the cocoon of his car, where no one could see, no one could judge. his chest heaved as sob after sob broke free, and the memories he had buried for so long clawed their way back to the surface. he could still see it, clear as day. the moment everything changed.

he had been eleven years old, standing on your porch, knocking on your door. it had been like any other day—he’d woken up with a plan to drag you outside and teach you something new. maybe you’d climb trees together, or he’d show you how to skip rocks at the creek. you always lit up when he taught you something; it made him feel like a hero.

but when no one answered the door that day, his excitement faded to confusion. he tried again, banging harder, calling your name. still, nothing. the house was eerily quiet, no muffled footsteps, no voices, no sound of the television in the background. he glanced around, noticing for the first time that your father’s car wasn’t parked in the driveway. his heart sank. something felt wrong.

he pushed the door open—it was never locked back then—and stepped inside. the air was still, heavy, as though the house itself had lost its heartbeat. “hello?” he called, his voice echoing faintly. othing. no one. rafe felt panic prick at the edges of his chest as he backed out of the house and ran down the street to his own. when he slipped through the side door, he heard voices. quiet, tense, the kind of voices that told him he wasn’t supposed to be listening.

he crept toward the living room, where his mother and father were standing close, their voices low and hurried. rose’s arms were crossed, her lips pressed into a thin line as ward leaned in closer to her, his face drawn with worry. sarah sat on the couch, her small shoulders shaking as she cried into her hands. rafe froze in the doorway, staring at them.

ward was the first to notice him. his father’s eyes softened, the corners of his mouth pulling into an expression rafe rarely saw from him—sympathy. “dad,” rafe said quietly, stepping further into the room. “she wasn’t home, so i came back.”

he glanced at sarah, confused and a little scared. “why’s she crying?”

rose and ward exchanged a look, a wordless conversation passing between them. finally, ward sighed, walking over to his son. he crouched down, his large hands resting on rafe’s small shoulders. “she’s not going to be home for a very, very long time,” ward said, his voice uncharacteristically gentle.

rafe frowned, trying to understand. “why not? where’d she go?”

ward didn’t answer. instead, for the first time in as long as rafe could remember, his father pulled him into a hug. a real hug, not the kind meant to placate or perform, but one that felt like comfort. one that made Rafe’s chest ache because he didn’t realize how much he needed it.

“i know it’s hard, son,” ward murmured against his ear. “but she’s gone now.”

rafe let his father hold him that day, clinging to the one solid thing he had as his mind raced to comprehend what “gone” meant. the realization hit later, slowly and painfully, when day after day, week after week, he knocked on your door and was met with silence. for a whole year, he went back, hoping, praying that one day you’d answer. but you never did.

and now, twelve years later, you were here again. like a ghost, like a dream he’d stopped believing in. rafe wiped his tears away with the back of his hand, pulling himself out of the memory as he glanced to the side. his heart clenched when he saw you slumped in the passenger seat, unconscious. your face was pale, your body limp, and the sight made him grip the steering wheel harder.

he took a shaky breath, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer. you looked so small, so vulnerable, like the girl he used to know and the stranger you had become all at once. “i'm sorry,” he whispered, the words catching in his throat as he turned his gaze back to the road.

the world was hazy when you opened your eyes, the faint, warm glow of a lamp on the bedside table guiding you back to consciousness. your head throbbed, the dull ache intensifying with each second, and for a moment, you weren’t sure where you were. slowly, you blinked, your vision sharpening. the room around you felt familiar.

a large bed cradled you in its softness, the smooth fabric cool against your skin. the lamp’s golden light cast gentle shadows on the walls, illuminating a painting hanging across from the bed—a serene coastal landscape you swore you’d seen before. beneath the painting sat a neat stack of white drawers. the faint sound of cicadas chirping outside suggested it was night, but how long had you been out? an hour? two? you brought a shaky hand to your temple, pressing lightly against the pounding pain in your head as you tried to piece together how you got here. then you saw him.

rafe was sitting on the edge of the bed, his broad shoulders hunched slightly, his hands clasped together as if he were trying to hold himself together. his eyes, red and puffy, were fixed on you, his expression a mixture of relief, guilt, and something deeper—something unspoken. your lips parted, your voice faint as you murmured, “rafe.” the sound of his name felt foreign on your tongue, yet familiar, like a forgotten melody.

he didn’t respond immediately, just continued to watch you, his throat bobbing as he swallowed thickly.

“rafey,” you whispered, your voice cracking as your senses fully returned. the nickname slipped out before you could stop it, dragging you both back to a time when things were simpler, softer. a time when you’d tug on his sleeve and call him that, and he’d groan in mock annoyance, but secretly love it.

to your surprise, he smiled—small, fragile, but real. “you haven’t called me that in a long time,” he murmured, his voice rough around the edges but warm in a way that made your chest tighten.

you shifted, straightening your back and sitting up to get a better look at him. the movement made you grimace as your headache flared, but you ignored it. you couldn’t think about yourself right now—not when he was here, not when he was looking at you like that. you must be a mess, you thought. your hair was probably tangled, your makeup smeared, and your clothes wrinkled from sleep. but if rafe thought so, he didn’t show it. his gaze remained steady, unwavering, as though you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“i’m sorry,” you blurted, the words escaping like they had a mind of their own. your throat tightened, and the floodgates opened before you could stop them. “i’m so sorry, rafe.”

your voice cracked as the first tear fell, and then another, until they were streaming freely down your cheeks. the weight of years of guilt and regret crushed you, leaving you breathless and trembling.

“please, don’t cry,” rafe murmured, his voice soft and pleading. he climbed into the bed beside you, reaching out to gently wipe your tears away with the pads of his thumbs. his touch was tender, careful, like he was afraid you might shatter. he had never enjoyed seeing you cry. not when you were kids, and certainly not now.

“i couldn’t have stopped it, could i?” you choked out, your voice trembling. “i could’ve helped you, but i wasn’t there. i left you, rafe. i left you, and look what happened.”

his hands cupped your face, tilting it upward so you had no choice but to meet his gaze. his blue eyes, raw and filled with emotion, bore into yours. “of course you could’ve,” he whispered, his tone tinged with something like sorrow. “nobody could’ve stopped me, but you.” your heart clenched at his words, the truth of them cutting deeper than any blade.

“but,” he added, his thumbs brushing away the fresh tears that streaked your face, “it’s not your fault you weren’t here. you couldn’t have known.” he leaned in slightly, his forehead nearly brushing yours. “you’re here now,” he whispered, his voice steady, reassuring.

you nodded, the lump in your throat too big to speak around. his warmth seeped into you, his presence grounding you in a way nothing else could. his arms wrapped around you, pulling you close until you were cradled in his lap. your head rested against his chest, the steady thrum of his heartbeat calming the storm inside you. for a moment, it felt like the world had stopped spinning. it was just you and rafe, tangled together, trying to piece each other back together.

he shifted slightly, his hand brushing against yours, and his gaze dropped. his fingers stilled when they grazed the small, tarnished ring on your hand. “i can’t believe you’ve kept it all these years,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

you looked down, following his gaze to the ring he’d given you all those years ago. it was simple, unassuming, but it had meant everything to you.

“it’s all i had left of you,” you admitted, your voice trembling.

rafe’s fingers closed around yours, lifting your hand to his lips. he pressed a soft kiss against the cool metal of the ring, then another against your knuckles. the tenderness of the gesture sent a fresh wave of tears streaming down your cheeks.

“you’ve got me now,” he said, his voice low and certain. he placed your hand against his chest, directly over his heart. your breath hitched as his gaze locked onto yours. his eyes flicked down to your lips, then back up, searching for permission. you gave it with a barely perceptible nod, and in the next heartbeat, he leaned in.

the kiss was soft, hesitant at first, as though he were afraid of breaking the fragile moment. but as your lips moved against his, the hesitation melted away, replaced by something deeper, something more desperate. his hands cupped your face again, tilting it just right as he kissed you like he’d been waiting twelve years to do it. and maybe he had.

your hands found their way to his shoulders, clinging to him like he was the only solid thing in a world that had shifted beneath your feet. his lips were warm and soft, moving with a purpose that made your heart race. time seemed to stretch, the rest of the world fading into nothing as you lost yourself in him. it wasn’t rushed or hurried; it was slow, deliberate, filled with all the emotions you hadn’t been able to say out loud.

the moment lingered, your foreheads pressed together as your breaths mingled in the quiet intimacy of the room. rafe’s hands stayed on your face, his thumbs gently stroking your cheeks as if he were memorizing every inch of you. his blue eyes burned into yours, filled with an intensity that made your heart race and your stomach flutter.

his lips brushed yours again—tentative, almost like a question. when you didn’t pull away, he deepened the kiss, the motion slow and deliberate. his lips moved against yours with a softness that contradicted the desperation in the way his hands held you, like you might disappear if he loosened his grip.

your fingers slid up from his shoulders, tangling in his hair as you tilted your head, giving him better access. he took the invitation greedily, his kisses growing bolder, more insistent. his hands left your face, one settling at the base of your neck while the other pressed gently against the small of your back, pulling you impossibly closer.

when he finally broke the kiss, you were breathless, your lips tingling from the way he’d kissed you like he was afraid it might be his last chance. but he didn’t go far. his lips found your jaw, pressing soft, lingering kisses down its curve. “rafey,” you murmured, your voice barely audible as your head tilted instinctively, giving him more room.

the sound of his nickname, the one only you were allowed to use, on your lips seemed to spur him on. his kisses trailed lower, down to the sensitive spot just below your ear, where his lips lingered, warm and soft against your skin. a shiver ran through you, and you felt his smile against your neck, like he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

“tell me to stop,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. but there was no hesitation in his voice, no real expectation that you would.

“don’t stop,” you replied, your fingers tightening in his hair.

he groaned softly, the sound low and rumbling, sending a wave of heat through you. his lips continued their journey, trailing down the column of your neck, his kisses deliberate and unhurried. he paused at the base of your throat, pressing a kiss there that was more reverent than anything else, like he was worshipping you.

your breath hitched as his lips moved lower, brushing against your collarbone. his hands shifted, one sliding to your waist, the other splayed against your back, keeping you anchored to him. his lips lingered on your collarbone, the warmth of his mouth contrasting with the cool air of the room.

“rafe, please,” you whispered again, your voice trembling.

he pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark and filled with something you couldn’t quite name. his thumb brushed against your cheek, his touch gentle despite the fire in his gaze.

“you’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice raw and earnest.

a tear slipped down your cheek, and he caught it with his thumb, shaking his head slightly as if he couldn’t believe you were here, in his arms, letting him hold you like this.

“you don’t have to cry anymore,” he whispered, leaning in to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth, then another to the opposite side. “i’ve got you now. you’re not going anywhere.” his words settled in your chest, a balm to the ache that had been there for years. you believed him. you felt it in the way he held you, the way he kissed you, the way he looked at you like you were his entire world.

his lips found yours again, this time softer, slower—like he was savoring you, trying to memorize the feel of you against him. his hand cradled the back of your head, his fingers threading gently through your hair as his other hand rested at your waist, keeping you steady.

you melted into him, your hands gripping his shoulders as his warmth enveloped you. he kissed you like he was afraid to rush, as though he wanted to take his time and show you everything he couldn’t put into words.

when he pulled back, his lips hovered just above yours, his breath warm and uneven against your skin. his thumb brushed your cheek, his touch impossibly tender.

“i’ve thought about this,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “about you. about us. for years, i thought i’d lost you for good.” his blue eyes searched yours, his vulnerability shining through.

“i’m here now,” you replied softly, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “and i’m not going anywhere.”

he let out a shaky breath, his forehead resting against yours as if grounding himself in your presence. “i don’t deserve you,” he admitted, his voice breaking slightly. “not after everything i’ve done, after the person i’ve become.”

your heart ached at his words, at the pain you could hear in his voice. you cupped his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you. “rafe,” you said firmly, your voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions coursing through you. “you deserve love, just like anyone else. and i’ve always believed in you. always.”

a tear slipped down his cheek, and you caught it with your thumb, your heart breaking and mending all at once. he leaned into your touch, his eyes closing briefly as if he was letting your words sink in.

“i’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you,” he whispered, his lips brushing yours as he spoke. “if you’ll let me.”

you didn’t answer with words. instead, you closed the distance between you, kissing him with a softness that spoke volumes. he responded immediately, his hands sliding down to your hips as he pulled you closer. the kiss deepened naturally, his lips moving against yours with a newfound urgency, but still gentle—always gentle with you. his hands remained steady on your waist, grounding you as his lips traveled once more, pressing kisses along your jaw, down the curve of your neck.

you tilted your head, giving him more access as his lips found the sensitive spot beneath your ear. a soft sigh escaped you, and you felt his smile against your skin. “you’re incredible,” he whispered against your neck, his voice low and filled with awe. “every piece of you. i don’t know how i got so lucky.”

your fingers found their way into his shirt, tugging gently as his kisses trailed lower, to the hollow of your throat. his lips pressed there for a moment, lingering as if the feel of your heartbeat beneath his lips anchored him. when he finally pulled back to look at you, his eyes were darker now, filled with a mix of emotions—adoration, desire, and something deeper, something that made your stomach flutter.

“you have no idea how long i’ve waited for this,” he murmured, his hands sliding up to cradle your face again. “to have you here, to hold you, to kiss you. i thought i’d never get this chance.”

“you have me now,” you said softly, your voice trembling with the weight of the moment. “i’m yours, rafe. always.”

the words seemed to shatter something in him. he leaned in, capturing your lips in another kiss—this one more heated, more desperate, as if he was trying to pour every unspoken word, every unshed tear into the connection. his hands wandered to your back, pulling you flush against him as he kissed you deeper, his lips leaving no part of yours unexplored. when he finally broke away, his lips trailed along your jaw, to the sensitive spot below your ear, down your neck, and finally to your collarbone.

you shivered under his touch, your breath hitching as his hands skimmed your sides, his fingers brushing against your waist with a tenderness that made your heart ache. “you’re everything,” he murmured against your skin, his voice filled with reverence. “everything i’ve ever wanted.”

his touch seemed to grow bolder, his hands moving to the buttons of your blouse. you helped him, eager to feel the heat of his skin against yours. the fabric parted with a harsh tug, revealing the simple, lacy bra that had been hidden beneath. his eyes darkened as he took in the sight, his breathing growing ragged.

“so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine. his fingers traced the edge of the lace, his eyes never leaving yours. the anticipation was almost unbearable, your heart racing as you waited for his next move.

when he finally did, it was with a gentle touch that belied the intensity in his gaze. he cupped one of your tits, his thumb brushing against the nipple until it tightened into a peak. you gasped at the sensation, arching into his touch. his praises grew more fervent as he played with your sensitive flesh, his voice a soft, muffled whisper that seemed to wrap around you as he pressed the surface of his tongue alongside the valley of your boobs, making you feel desired in a way you hadn’t felt in a long time.

his other hand found the zipper of your skirt, pulling it down with a slow deliberateness that had you squirming in anticipation. the fabric fell away, pooling around your ankles, leaving you in just your panties and bra. the look in his eyes was one of pure hunger, but it was tempered with a love so fierce it stole your breath away.

he leaned in, his mouth capturing one of your nipples through the lace, his tongue teasing it into a hardened point. you moaned, your hands fisting in his shirt. you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, the wetness of his mouth, the roughness of the fabric against your sensitized flesh.

his hand slid down, hooking into the waistband of your panties. you lifted your hips slightly, allowing him to pull them down your legs. the coolness of the air against your bare cunt was an incredible contrast to the heat of his touch. you allowed him to pull your panties down, feeling exposed and vulnerable, yet safe in his arms.

his eyes traveled over your body, taking in every inch of you as if he were worshipping a goddess. his gaze made you feel powerful, beautiful, and utterly wanted. his hands found your hips, his thumbs digging in slightly as he tugged you closer to him. the fabric of his own clothes were rough against your skin, a reminder that this was real, that he was really here, touching you with a love that seemed to consume him.

his mouth moved down, kissing a path from your neck to your chest, pausing to worship each tit in turn. his teeth grazed the flesh gently, making you gasp as he sucked and nibbled. it was erotic, the way he took his time, savoring every moment as if it might be his last. you felt the ache between your legs, the wetness growing slicker with every kiss, every caress.

his hand slid down, his fingers slipping into your wetness, exploring your folds with a gentle yet firm touch. your eyes fluttered closed, your head falling back as he found your clit, stroking it with a precision that made your legs tremble. “fuck, rafe,” you moaned, your voice a breathless whisper.

he kissed you deeply, his hand never leaving your pussy as he began to rub circles around your clit, increasing the pressure with every pass. you could feel yourself getting closer, the tension building like the crescendo of a symphony. his thumb circled your clit as his forefinger slid into your wetness, the sensation sending waves of pleasure through your body.

his mouth moved to your ear, his breath hot and heavy. “i love you,” he whispered, the words sending a shiver down your spine. “i’ve loved you for so long. i wanna make you feel so good, to show you just how much you mean to me. can i?”

you nodded, unable to form words as the orgasm crashed over you, your body shuddering with the force of it. he didn’t stop, his hand moving faster, his thumb pressing harder until you were panting and trembling in his arms. when you finally stilled, he kissed you again, a gentle press of his lips to yours, his tongue sliding in to taste you.

his hands slid away, and you felt the loss acutely, but only for a moment. he stepped back, his own shirt and pants joining the pile of discarded clothes on the floor. his cock stood erect, showing you what you did to him in every sense of the word. you couldn’t help but stare, taking in the sight of him—his chiseled abs, the muscles in his arms, the way his chest rose and fell with every ragged breath.

“you’re so beautiful, rafe,” you whispered, your voice filled with awe.

his eyes never left yours as he stepped closer, his hands coming up to cradle your face again. “says you,” he murmured, the words a declaration that sent a thrill through your body.

his cock brushed against your stomach, hot and hard, and you reached for it, wrapping your hand around it. he groaned, his hips jerking slightly at the contact. you began to stroke him, your hand moving up and down in a slow, steady rhythm that had his eyes fluttering shut.

his hand slid down to your pussy again, his fingers finding your entrance. he slid one inside you, the sensation making you moan. he watched your face as he began to move it in and out, his thumb circling your clit. your breath grew shallow as the pleasure built again, your legs threatening to give out.

his eyes snapped open, a fierce love shining in their depths. “don’t think i’ll be able to stop myself,” he growled, his voice thick with desire. “are you sure you can handle it?” you nodded, unable to form words. your heart was racing, your body more than ready for him. he kissed you once more, his hand guiding his cock to your entrance.

the first push was slow, deliberate, giving you time to adjust to his size. he groaned, his eyes never leaving yours as he inched inside you. it felt like coming home, like the missing piece of a puzzle sliding into place. the feeling was so intense that you had to bite your lip to keep from crying out. once fully seated, he paused, his chest heaving against yours. “are you okay?” he whispered, his voice strained with restraint.

you nodded again, feeling a mix of pleasure and pain as he stretched you. you reached up, pulling his head down for a deep, desperate kiss. “i’m okay, fuck. make love to me, rafe,” you urged.

his eyes searched yours for a moment before a fierce smile spread across his face. he began to move, his strokes long and slow, each one driving him deeper. you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, your nails digging into his back. the room was filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin, your gasps and moans mingling with the crash of the waves outside.

his hand found your tit again, his thumb teasing your nipple as his hips rocked against yours. he picked up the pace, the friction building a delicious ache deep inside you. “you’re so wet, so tight,” he murmured, his voice hoarse. “feel so good, baby.”

the words spurred you on, your hips moving in sync with his. you could feel yourself getting closer again, the tension coiling tighter and tighter. “yes, rafe, yes!” you moaned, your voice echoing in the room. his hand slid down to your clit, his fingers moving in time with his thrusts. the sensation was almost too much for you to handle.

his strokes grew more erratic, his breathing more ragged, and you knew he was close. “gonna cum, baby,” he grunted, his eyes never leaving yours. “gonna fill your pussy up, make you mine forever.”

the raw possessiveness in his voice sent you over the edge. you came hard, your body convulsing around him as wave after wave of pleasure crashed through you. he followed soon after, his cock pulsing inside you, filling you with his warmth.

you held onto him tightly, your breathing matching his, as the world outside the mansion faded away. it was just the two of you, connected in a way you’d never been before. as the aftershocks of your orgasm faded, you felt his weight shift, his body collapsing slightly against yours. it felt like the end to a dream, to something you’ve been chasing after your entire life, but it was only the beginning.

he didn’t pull out, and he wouldnt for a while. instead, he looked up at you, pushing away the sweaty strands of hair that stuck to your forehead. as he did so, his gaze dropped to the ring wrapped around your finger, slick with sweat. “pretty cheap for an engagement ring,” he murmured. “you should throw it out.”

you couldn’t help but frown, “why?”

“so that i can get you a better one.”

⋆. 𐙚 ˚

a/n: ok guys yes im aware that canon rafe would NOT be this sweet lovey dovey hopeless romantic but idgaf i have free will and tumblr so grease my feet

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theonewhospeaksinweird · 1 year ago

Text

💛💙Protected (Charlotte Katakuri x Female!Reader) Pt. 3💛💙

💚 = Lime/Lil Spicy

💛 = Lemon

💙 = Sad

❤️ = Angsty (won't do many of these unless prompted)

💜 = Fluff

💔 = Heartbreak (rare unless prompted)

🖤 = Normal

Part 3, as promised!~ It all comes to the thrilling conclusion, and I FINALLY get to the scene that started this whole story.~ After about collectively 18.5 k words.~ All I can say in my defense is that...THIS MAN IS TOO FINE!~ If you don't want the ✨spicy✨ part of this story, that's totally fine.~ Just stop reading at the line of star squids.~ Enjoy, dearies.~

Minors, Do Not Interact, Please.~

Part 1 <- - Part 2 <- - Part 3

Although I wished for it, the silence that abruptly replaced the sounds of destruction and fighting startled me, along with the suddenly very loud shouting of Pekoms in my ear.

“Y/N! It’ll be okay-!” The pink clad mink cut himself off at the abrupt silence. Our heavy breaths were the only thing filling the new quiet. We both slowly detached from each other and looked around us to see the same semi-transparent white shield that I had created earlier. Its opaqueness varied in pulses, so I could see that everything around us had crumbled into rubble except the ground inside the bubble.

“What the fuck?” Pekoms mumbled out, looking around until his gaze fell back onto me who looked equally surprised. This sudden change shocked my panicked mind out of its frenzied state, allowing me to calm myself down. The calmer I became, the more I realized how drained I felt again and leaned against Pekoms once more.

“Is this yours, Y/N?” Looking up at my reflection in Pekoms’ black glasses, I gave a hesitant nod before responding.

“Y-Yeah, I guess it is. . . “ This new power still felt weird to me. More so the after effects of me being fatigued and suddenly so calm. It bothered me, but I couldn't put my finger on it. It was like the emotions just expelled from my body. Before our conversation could continue on, some movement caught the corner of my eye. A beat up, and barely moving Strawhat had crawled out of a large hole in the ground.

Once again, the bubble popped so suddenly when my heart jumped into my throat in dread.

Where was Katakuri?

With the barrier gone, the rubble around us sank into our little hole, but I ignored it and the weariness tugging at my bones, scrambling over the debris. Desperation clawed its way back into my heart and showed in my deep purple antennae as I crested the pile of rubble, searching for my husband. Tears burned my darting eyes, blurring my vision, until they fell onto the large body sprawled out beside the hole. Katakuri. No scarf in sight. My breath hitched, and the tears fell freely as I took in what that entailed. A part of me already knew what the outcome of this fight would be, but it still hurt to be right. This was the last thing I wanted to be right about.

I felt Pekoms come up beside me on the rubble, his reaction being the opposite of mine when he saw Strawhat alive. Before either of us could go to our respective fighters, the sound of those familiar spurs clanked twice through the air as Katakuri struggled to his feet in front of a crawling Strawhat. I was frozen to my spot, watching with bated breaths as he swayed on his feet. Blue light bathed either side of my face as my antennae drooped down.

"Kata. . . " I whispered out, thinking he was going to try and continue fighting. I wish I could grab the bracelet from my hair and know what was going through his heart and mind right now, but I was glued to my spot, unable to even get past the state he was in. There was blood dripping from multiple wounds, the largest being a hole in his side, fresh bruises littering his body, sure to be a nasty color tomorrow, and his entire body shaking with exhaustion.

At the obstruction, the retreating captain stood up as well, readying himself for a fight that neither of them seemed to be in the shape to continue. Pekoms growled beside me, seemingly unhappy with the fact that Strawhat was still trying to fight with Katakuri.

"That damn brat doesn't know when to quit, huh? Tch, I figured as much." And with that, my travel companion parted from my side and away from the two fighters. I was about to get up myself, to try and convince my injured husband to stop. That dying for his mother's cause wouldn't change a thing. Maybe it was selfish of me to think so, but I just knew I couldn't live without him. I barely know how I lived before him. Before I could force myself to move, my husband's raspy question stopped me.

"Are you gonna come back. . . to take down Big Mom one day?"

Huh? Was he asking this boy to. . ?

"Of course I am! Cause I'm gonna be King of the Pirates!"

Then, the most bizarre thing happened.

Katakuri smiled. He smiled at the thought of someone taking down his mother.

"You must be looking far into the future!" He exclaimed as he started swaying more on his feet. Looking like he was about to fall again is what finally spurred me to action. I didn't know what happened in that fight for him to be so open about his feelings with this enemy, but that hardly mattered now. I started sprinting across the ruined floor, tripping and falling over debris as Katakuri began falling. Onto his back, no less. He was on his stomach before.

I knew I couldn't catch him, but I'd been apart from him for too long, and he needed me just as much as I needed him right now. He landed with a resounding thud that hurt my heart. I could see Strawhat standing there in shock as I finally got to my husband's side. My knees cut on the broken floor at his sides, but I hardly cared as I frantically looked over my defeated husband.

"Katakuri! No no no, are you okay? Please don't die! I love you too much to let you die!" I wasn't sure what to do first, he was unresponsive. The first thing I could think of was to stop the bleeding from the big gash on his side. With nothing else to use, I took the skirt of my dress and pressed it into the wound. The fabric of my skirt was too sheer, though, and barely did anything to stop the flowing life force. As I thought about what to do instead, I could feel another person approaching.

Strawhat Luffy.

Meeting him face to face like this instead of through his Haki had a different effect. He didn't seem like a dangerous guy, in fact he seemed quite simple. Yet here Katakuri was, flat on his back after their battle. He had big, round black eyes that shone with determination –towards what, I didn't know just yet�� and his mouth was set in a fine line. It unnerved me that I couldn’t take any emotions from his blank face. He was worse than when I first met Katakuri. Strawhat looked far more beat up than Katakuri, which I secretly relished, but was at least able to stumble his way towards us. I knew I stood no chance at fighting this guy if he wanted to finish off my husband, but I'd be damned if I didn't do anything.

"Go away! You won! Isn't that enough? He's already down, so just leave, go find your crew!" I splayed myself protectively in front of my husband. I wouldn't be much of a hindrance if this guy really wanted to get rid of me, though I could stall. If only for a few moments. He ignored me and got closer. I was shaking. Shaking in both anger and fear to make a deep magenta as he dared ignore me. When he was a few steps away, I covered half my arm in Haki –that was the most I could use even after 2 years of training– and threw a punch as hard as I could at him. Even in his weakened form, the infamous pirate caught my fist effortlessly. I strained against him, staring heatedly into his thoughtless eyes.

With the contact, I searched his emotions and intent, if only to predict his line of thought, but what I found was nothing I expected. Through the pain and exhaustion were strong threads of respect and twinges of sorrow. They were towards Katakuri. That caught me off guard, and the loss of concentration made my Haki disappear. Strawhat didn't move against me as he stared blankly into my confused eyes.

"I'm not gonna hurt him."

And for some reason, I believed him. I kept my eyes on him as I slowly took back my hand, my magenta lightening to a curious yellow. His grip wasn't very tight in the first place. He turned his attention to my still unconscious lover, and I watched as he stepped past me, took the black hat off of his namesake hat and put it over Katakuri's mouth. That surprised me even more. To think that Strawhat respected him enough to cover his biggest insecurity even after he won. Vice versa with Katakuri taking this fight so seriously that he exposed himself in full to this rambunctious teen.

The boy left after that, staggering his way aimlessly down a winding hall of the half destroyed Mirro-World. I'm sure Pekoms would find and help him. This was out of my hands now that Katakuri had been defeated. Returning my attention back to my lover, I let out a tired sigh. I'd never seen my husband look so beat up before. The thought of how much pain he must be in brought the tears back to my eyes. It was over now, his part was done, and everything was coming down.

"Oh, Kata. Your mother doesn't deserve you." My quiet words came out watery as I pet his dirty magenta hair a little, wishing I could hold him more, but I didn't want to cause him anymore pain. I wouldn't even be able to get serious help for him until Brulee came back, which I'm sure will be a while since Pekoms needed her for Strawhat's escape. I hope she's alright. My hand moved from his head to the black hat Strawhat had put over his mouth, removing it so I could see his full face. He was still the most handsome man ever. With a sad smile, I bent over and kissed his forehead hoping he would feel the love in it even while he was asleep.

Looking around, I saw my abandoned medical kit lying on the ground a bit of ways away slightly under some rubble. For hopefully one of the last times today, I made myself get up to retrieve it. My tears had slowed, but when I came back and began cleaning up my husband they streaked down my dirty face again. The warm rivulets of tears dripped from my chin and nose onto his chest as I leaned over him. Starting with his face, I used alcohol wipes to wipe away the dirt and gently clean his cuts. This medical kit only had basic things, so I used all the candy design bandages where I could, and the gauze on his big gash. After about half an hour of quietly working, my silent cries had been reduced to the occasional sniffle here and there.

The appearance of Katakuri had improved, and everything was at least cleaned, though he looked a bit silly with all the cutesy bandages covering his face and torso. With a weary sigh, I turned my attention to the pile of dirty and bloodied wipes with a grimace. As I began stuffing them into the basically empty medical kit, a groan interrupted the deafening background noise of the Mirro-World. My attention immediately snapped to my husband whose face was contorting from peace to pain. His large hand came up to his dirty locks, grasping at his head as he let out another sound of pain. My breath caught in my throat at the sound.

"Kat. . . Katakuri. . !" My throat closed up before I could get anything else out, and let myself fall down onto his free arm. I could feel him freeze as I let out all my pent up emotions. Everything oozed out of me like a toxic slime with each shuddering sob. Pain. Sorrow. Fear. Relief. All the tension I was holding in my chest slowly drained out of me. I was weak in the presence of my protector.

“You’re okay! You’re alive! Everything was rumbling and falling apart, I saw you fall and he came over and I thought he was gonna. . . he was gonna-!” I couldn’t even finish my sentence. I didn’t want to think about it anymore. Not right now at least. Maybe never again. Wave after wave of tears fell in fat blobs down my face, and I couldn’t stop shaking as I held on tight to Katakuri’s arm. I could feel his regret, pain and shame mixing in with my turbulent emotions at the sight of me crying. My antennae settled into a deep cerulean blue that lit up my crying visage. It wasn’t long before I felt his free hand come to my back and rub it gently. That only encouraged my breakdown, enticing me to hug his arm in my hold tighter.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I’ve put you through too much today. I’m sorry I couldn’t win. I’m sorry I wasn’t enough. I’m sorry-”

“No! Be-Be quiet!!” I shook my head in a childish manner, not wanting to hear those remorseful words misplaced in his mouth. His voice was shaky and his chest shuddered with every regretful word he pushed out, seemingly on the edge of joining me in tears. Whether that was my doing or his own sorrow showing itself, I didn't know. The sound of him being so defeated brought back the anger I felt earlier towards Strawhat, but this time it was aimed towards the real culprit: Big Mom.

None of this would’ve happened if she hadn’t taken that blonde cook. He obviously wanted nothing to do with Germa, not that I blame him for disassociating from those monsters. Yes, Katakuri would always protect his family because of his own sense of responsibility and love, but she created and invited this threat, just like every other danger, to the family. I knew he could feel my silent anger, but I didn't dare bring up that topic right now. For the moment being, I was just worried about my husband, and only him.

Lifting my head up, my mouth was downturned in a frown as I subdued my crying and swallowed my indignation to continue talking. I saw the suspected tears in Katakuri’s eyes as he moved his shiny gaze from the ruined ceiling to my indignant face. Oh, how I hated that self-loathing look in his beautiful red eyes.

“None of this is your fault. You did your best, I know you did, Katakuri. Why are you apologizing to me when you took on such a powerful opponent with everything you had? You were lying here in a bloody heap at the end of your battle, all because of that damn Strawhat boy. You are more than enough. More than your mom or I deserve. The only thing you should be apologizing for is making me think you died.” The last part of my rant was whispered quietly, the words being the biggest fear I’ve had all day. I swiped at my face, trying fruitlessly to wipe away some of the wetness coating it. His sharp toothed mouth hung open like a fish out of water. He had nothing to say to my rebuttal, but the swelling of tears slipping down his face said it all.

The tight feeling of anger was washed away completely by that soft face. The face of a man who’s been given the grace he deserves. Seeing him crying made me smile. He would have never shown this type of emotion to anyone else in his family since he wanted to be seen as an immovable force that protects them, but now that image was shattered. And I'm starting to think it's a good thing he lost. I threw myself down onto his chest, wrapping my arms around his neck. A watery laugh escaped me as I buried my face into his strong neck and his large arms enveloped me in their comforting embrace. Even though he lost, he was still my protector. In his arms was still the safest place I felt I could be.

<コ:彡ミ☆<コ:彡ミ☆ <コ:彡ミミ☆ <コ:彡ミ☆ <コ:彡ミ☆ <コ:彡ミ☆

Muffled voices prodded at my subconscious. I couldn’t discern anything as I pressed my face closer to the warm, squishy thing I lay upon. One of the voices was deeper and closer than the others, the vibration of their words humming through my body. I tried to just ignore it and go back to sleep, but the longer the voices continued the more awake I became. And with my resurfacing consciousness came the pain of my body as I tried moving. The soreness everywhere and sharp pain on my knees made me grimace in regret.

“Shh. . . sleeping. . . don't wake. . .”

“. . . eeping? . . hard as a rock. . . she won’t wake. . .”

The two other voices that weren't the soothing rumbling began to argue, and until I opened my eyes I wasn't sure where I was, or who was talking. The first thing I saw was pink. Bleariness had my mind as slow as a tortoise as I peeled my face away from the squishy pink thing. Pulling away further, I realized it was a person’s chest. My husband’s chest to be exact. Finally, everything came rushing back and anxiety shot through me like an archer’s arrow. Despite my sore body’s protests, I sat up and looked around wildly.

I was in Katakuri and my’s room, lying in our bed. Katakuri sat propped up beside me with a lot of large pillows behind him and heavily bandaged. On either side of our bed was Cracker and Brulee, who was the source of the “hushed” bickering. Everyone froze when I popped up like a gopher. I probably looked like a mess right now, and acting so crazy definitely didn't help that rap. Brulee was the first to break the deafening silence.

“Y/N-nii! You're okay! I was so worried that you weren't gonna wake up just like Katakuri-nii! It was horrible what you two went through! That damn Strawhat, I'll kill him myself!” The large, wispy woman had pounced on me when she started her blubbering, holding onto me tightly by my waist while crying into my stomach. Her tight embrace didn't do my aching body any favors, but the familiar touch made me relax. Her feelings of relief and joy gave me a small boost of energy.

“Sorry to worry you, Brulee. It's okay, I'm fine.” I wheezed out with strained breaths.

“Get off of her, you witch! You’re really gonna kill her like that!” Cracker came to my rescue in his own little Cracker way. His instigation made the emotional woman let go of me and engage in yet another bickering match, but this one was full volume now that they didn't have to worry about waking me up. I rubbed at my tender muscles while letting out a few amused chuckles. With his siblings’ distraction, I had forgotten to address my husband beside me.

“I'm glad you're awake.” His baritone voice commented quietly. My heart leapt to my throat, and I couldn't turn around fast enough to fully focus on him. There he was, in all his handsome glory. The fact that I could see his whole face caught me off guard. I glanced from him to his two siblings with a silent question before scooting back to his bare side. I decided to voice my obvious question when he said nothing.

“Why aren't you wearing-?”

“I don't need it. At least not with them, and not right now. Mama has decided to continue pursuing Strawhat who is heading to Wano. Some of our siblings are going with her while the rest of us stay to recuperate and rebuild the kingdom.” Despite his serious words, there was a small smile on Katakuri’s face as he talked about his mother going to chase Strawhat Luffy. It made me think about the question he asked that boy. The connection made me giggle.

Cracker and Brulee stopped their argument at my tinkle of laughter. I couldn't hold it in, and my giggles grew into a full on laughter. Katakuri smiled happily at my joy, soon joining me with a few low chuckles of his own that blossomed into one of his rare laughters as well. We couldn't see it, but Brulee was smiling fondly at our seemingly random laughter with Cracker looking bewildered between all three of us.

“What the fuck are you both laughin-”

“Come on, let's go check on our other siblings, Cracker.” Brulee grabbed Cracker by a bandaged arm, eliciting a pained cry from him, and dragged him from his seat to our nearby full length mirror. With a hefty push from the tall woman, Cracker was sent into the Mirro-World. Before she went through herself, she spoke to us as we came down from our laughing high.

“You two should rest. I'll tell everyone to let you have your time alone today, wiwiwi.~” And with that, we were alone. I sat there catching my breath as the peace settled in our room. A deep breath quieted my emotions into content, and I could feel the same coming from my paramount husband. My arms snaked around as much of his chest as they could and gave him a tight squeeze which I was sure he barely felt.

“I'm glad you're happy. Happier. Maybe now. . . you could be more yourself. No more hiding and putting up that omnipotent facade.” Hope for my lover’s possible boost in his self-image bloomed in my chest as I slowly tilted my head up to look at him. He wouldn't look me in the eye, and there was a solemn doubt in his eyes and heart.

“Perhaps. Though, things of this matter are not so easily changed. Especially not in my family. You know this.” His comment procured a furrow on my brow. Not wanting him to fall off into a dark place again so quickly, I moved into his lap, straddling his waist as my small hands reached up to direct his face to mine.

“What if you were the one to change that?” That simple question held a few different meanings. Meanings I'm sure the man before me could easily decipher after three years of marriage. He’d never admit it to anyone, but I felt it. I felt his relief when he lost. The joy when Strawhat said he’d come back. The buried hope that Big Mom would fall. Every burden he’s been caused was because of his mother, as is with his siblings. It was a sure bet that Katakuri would be voted the captain of the Big Mom Pirates if his mother fell. Then he could begin to heal his family and himself.

Katakuri stayed quiet for a good few moments, but I didn't need a verbal answer. I knew the answer of his heart. With my hands on his jaw, and us finally being alone after such a long, draining battle, I couldn't help the beckoning I felt towards him. Even all bandaged up and bed ridden, Katakuri still had my heart and body in a hold. The pain of the cuts on my knees were no match for the yearning burning in me. With deliberate movements, it didn't take long for my lips to slowly mesh into his. The familiar feeling of his sharp teeth prodded at my chin and upper lip, but it just spurred me on. He tasted like donuts, as usual.

Katakuri seemed to have no qualms with my choice of action since his large hands were soon encompassing my hips. Lithe fingertips danced from his jaw to the back of his neck, leaving a trail of goosebumps along the way. His semi upright position on the bed made it easier for me to lay upon him fully and deepen our sweet kiss. My heart raced faster, and I already knew my antennae were a deep rose pink as they lowered against my head. With flushed cheeks, I minimally pulled away to catch my breath. Upon opening my eyes, my lust filled ones were met with the love littered ones of my husband. The look he gave me, made me a bit shy for being so forthright with my desires. Though, the tent I felt against my butt suggested that it was not unwelcome.

After a brief spell of bashfulness, I willed myself to continue. It was too late to stop, and I had done enough holding back during the day of the wedding. Not to mention the time I've been asleep. With that thought in mind, I crashed my eager mouth back into Katakuri’s, wrapping my arms around his muscled neck. I could feel him taking in a deep breath through his nose but didn't pull away. In fact, he pulled me closer by my hips. Kata was as needy as I was, but still maintained his self-restrictions. His apprehensiveness to indulge himself in me had my clenching insides groaning in exasperation. It wasn't long before I was pushing myself back against his growing sex with apparent longing.

“Kata.~ Please, I need you so bad. I know you want to use me.” My usually modest voice rang with sultry desire as I whispered into my husband’s ear. My teasing yanked another seemingly pained groan from him, making him press his sharp nose to my shoulder. Those sharp teeth were just a hair away from my own neck. The thought of what he could do to me with them made me shiver.

Our passionate kiss devolved into one of sloppy desire until I wrenched my lips from his to latch onto his neck. With it being covered all the time, it was an easy weakness I could exploit. Just a soft faux bite right below his jaw had him squeezing my hips tighter. A restrained groan hummed against my mouth as Kata let out hot, heavy pants against my shoulder. I continued my soft bites into his warm skin. My teeth sunk into his flesh, tasting mochi and showing that he allowed me to do this. The feeling of his large muscles straining against me as he still held himself back drew out soft whines from my throat.

“Don't do this to me, love. I can't. . . I might just. . .” He growled out his labored warning to me. Usually, I would back off and continue to set the pace, but today was different. Today, I wanted to press all the wrong buttons to get the “punishment” I've always been threatened with. For once I wanted my husband to be the one in pure sensual bliss. He deserved it after everything he’s been through. This was my gift to him. If he couldn't unapologetically be himself anywhere else in his life, I wanted him to be completely open with me. Emotionally and physically.

Deciding upon this course of action put a tingle in my spine. I could finally do all the teasing I wanted and say all those things that drove him crazy. Katakuri had been preoccupying himself with kneading my bare thighs from under my nightgown and leaving soft kisses along my now exposed shoulder. Soft mumbles of praise from him to me sung into my ears, only making me more excited for what was to come. He was already teetering on a thin edge.

I continued to roll my hips back and forth against his fully hard bulge. Slowly and deliberately. A soft whimper escaped me each time I rolled just right over my sensitive spot, clinging to him like he was my lifeline.

“You can't leave me like this. I want it all, I know I can take it. Just fuck me all you want. It'd be so easy and feel so good.~” Yet another growl rumbled against my chest from his as I continued whispering dirty nothings in his ear.

“Y/N. Stop. Please.” He used my full name. He was serious, but despite his firm tone, I could feel his raging lust banging on the grates of his body. Screaming from the sewers to let it come out to play to its heart content. I was dangling the key so carelessly above the ravenous hands stretching through the gaps. My own lust had already taken over my body. It was in control with the rest of my emotions tied up and left to watch with morbid curiosity how this would end. All I did was smile and run my hands down his chiseled chest.

I didn't respond to his plea and demand, but instead continued my dangerous game. I detached myself from him and led my lips on a trail from his neck to his waist band. As I looked up at my needy lover, I could see the dangerous glint in his red eyes. Not the one he got when he was fighting, this was different. It felt more animalistic and unkempt. Something I hadn't felt in him before. It was like there was a whole new part of him that had been closed off, and I was the first to experience it this way. My butt swayed restlessly behind me, my lower stomach begging for relief of this infernal itch deep inside me. And there was only one way to get rid of it. Excitement overrode my momentary fear as I held his warning gaze while making quick work of his pants and boxers.

Finally, the thing I pined after stood before me, lighting my body abuzz and cheeks ablaze. Precum had darkened a wet spot on his boxers and showed no signs of stopping as his cock twitched and pulsed in my hands. A giggle bubbled out of me as I pressed my cheek to the shaft and kissed my way up to the soft, wet tip. I hummed in satisfaction when the soft pink head slid into my mouth, my tongue swirling around his sensitive glands. Just with this much, my mouth was half full, but I knew that other parts of me could handle him just fine. I felt like I could handle anything as long as it satisfied him. This progress had Katakuri moaning and gently holding my head. There was no push of his hands or buck of his hips, but I knew he wanted more. Well if he wanted more today, then he’d have to take more. I let go of my tight grip on his head with a pop, licking my lips as I swallowed his stringy fluids.

“Doesn't my mouth feel good? You know what would feel even better than my little mouth?” I called out once again to Kata, bringing him out of his haze of pleasure. I continued to slowly pump his full length with both hands, but only rubbed his tip along my now wet cheek.

“Ka-ta-kur-i.~ Why don't you wanna make your wife feel good?~ I'm begging you.~ I promise it will feel great for both of us.~ Please?~” A faux pout puffed my cheeks when he didn't respond, just letting out those deep, restraining growls and grunts. I knew it would take more than a little teasing to get him to let loose. I let go of his cock fully and sat up on my bandaged knees. The adrenaline pumping through my hot body nulled the pain from them as I took the straps of my nightgown and tugged them leisurely down my arms. The thin, flowy fabric of the gown already showed my perked up nipples through it, but I knew he liked seeing the real deal. The small straps fell off my fingers, but bunched up on my hips, unable to completely fall off without some assistance.

I crawled back on top of my heavily breathing husband, his sharp eyes hooded with lust, hovering my gooey entrance over his weeping tip. The urge to slide down on it, and ride us both to completion was tempting, but kept my eyes on the prize. Or eyes on the punishment, more like. With us face to face again, I could feel the hot breaths emanating from his mouth and fanning against my face. He could feel my awaiting sex so close as well. Those dangerous eyes trailed from my exposed breasts to my still covered lower half leaving me feeling vulnerable under their piercing scrutiny. He was expecting me to continue my undressing and, subsequently, start riding him like usual. All I did was give him a smile.

“Need some help?” He asked lowly and gruffly. There was a gravel to his voice that brought back the urge once again. It was so close. No. I had a plan. I reserved the right to give my husband what he needs. Even if he doesn’t think he needs it. I gave a nod, unable to talk as his hot gaze stayed on my face. Wanting to ignore his commanding stare, I moved closer to his face. I knew something that he fell apart at. My damp lips pressed against the clammy skin of his cheek, adorning his scar with a kiss. I didn't stop at one, and softly placed a kiss all along his left cheek’s scar. The skin was smooth but raised and was as sensitive as his neck, if not more. He sucked in a sharp breath, held it, then let it out shakily.

“Do you need something, dear?~” I moved to an innocent facade, but I knew he saw right through me. I was excited and the way my legs wrapped around his waist and positioned his head at my awaiting entrance was proof of that. He didn't respond yet, and just moved his right arm above me to hold himself up as his left hand moved underneath my lower back to hold me tight. Not too tight to hurt me, but I couldn't hope to get out of his grip. Not that I wanted to.

I could feel his hands squeeze at the damp skin on my thighs closest to my entrance before languidly sliding up to my silky gown. Suddenly, with little to no effort, he grabbed both sides of my clothing and tore it in two along with my panties. The sound of the threads snapping so quickly had my breath catching in my throat. Pulling back from his cheek, his eyebrows were furrowed like he was angry, and he was. Angry at the built up sexual frustration and my teasing. Gradually, he sat up, making me quickly hug onto his neck and press my fully naked body to his chest. It didn't take long for our positions to be switched with me underneath Katakuri, and him huffing above me. His hands were quick to push down his pants more and tug them off of himself fully, but swiftly went back to caging me against the bed.

“You want to take me whole? Want to make me feel good with your little needy hole? Is that what my pretty little wife wants?” Katakuri hardly ever talked dirty to me. Usually it was just praise and sweet talk as we took it slow, maybe the occasional innuendo. But this was him listening to my wants and his needs obliging. This new side of him had me half scared of the consequences and half begging for the pleasure. The duality wasn’t hard to choose between. He was standing on the wire, and all I had to do was blow him one way or another. This was probably my last chance to turn back.

“I need an answer, love. Tell me to stop.” His now soft voice was begging me to tell him no. He was scared of hurting me still, even though he so clearly wanted to fuck me to his heart’s content. I had convinced a part of him to act on his wants for once. The sweet side of him that I was used to was barely holding back the ravenous animal that was clawing its way to the surface. All I could do was smile and put a hand to his clenched jaw as I raised my lips to his ear.

“Do what you want.~” A silent beat. Two. A deep, almost pained, groan erupted from my husband. Soon, my twitchy insides were being stretched to their limits. His impossibly hard cock was already halfway inside of me, bullying its way to my cervix. The suddenness knocked the breath out of me with a gasping moan falling from my lips. I clenched hard around his member, telling him to continue. My efforts were met with a deeply pleasured moan from the giant man above me. Before now, Katakuri would have told me to stop here to keep me from hurting myself. That worry was nowhere to be seen now as his hips pulled back slowly only to snap forward once again, burying his cock deeper inside of me still.

“Fuck! Oh my gosh, it's so good! Kata!” My words slurred together as the disarming pleasure rolled through my body like a riptide, sweeping my wits from under me. I never knew sex could feel this wild. My reactions to his movements reassured the part of him still worried about my well being, allowing him to more assuredly continue his pace. A steady rhythm was set, faster than one we’ve had before. His large hand encapsulating my waist moved me back and forth in sync with his hips. I felt like a ragdoll being used for his pleasure. Each deep pound felt like I was being split apart, but I could hardly keep up with every one as my head spun with pleasure.

Katakuri was in no better state than I was, seemingly drunk on the bliss that fucking me like this brought. His face was buried in the pillow above my head, and I could hear him mumbling to himself. It was hard to pick up every word, but I could tell it was about how good he felt. The satisfaction of hearing him sound so lost in the pleasure only made every snap of his hips feel that much better. I explored his sweaty chest with my hands as my legs clung to his sides. One hand traveled up to his damp, magenta locks, raking their way up and down his scalp. This enticed him to lower his head from the pillow to my face and engage me in a sloppy yet passionate kiss.

I desperately sunk my fingers into his hair, holding him to me as we made out. I craved him, every last part of him I adored and I wanted all of him to be mine. Needy whines and whimpers of mine sounded into our kiss as I departed to talk.

“Don't stop. Don't stop until you're satisfied. I love you so much, please, feel so good for me. You're so deep in me and I love it!~” The confident attitude I had earlier had dissipated in the face of Katakuri’s raw power, and now I just wanted to please my husband. His whole cock was almost fully sheathed inside of me every time his hips hit my thighs. My insides felt so gooey and stretched out already. I had already cum once, and everything was getting to be too much. We hadn’t gone this long before, and I wasn't used to the power of his full thrusts.

Katakuri stared down at me, locked onto my blissed out face contorted erotically as I begged for him. That seemed to spur him up again, and I could feel a burst of love and sexual fervor rush from him to me. With renewed energy, he sat up on his knees, taking his member out of me. The emptiness I felt without him made me fuss and shake my hips in dissatisfaction. Without a word, I was flipped over onto my stomach and returned the fullness of my husband’s cock but from behind. His hot tip dragged along all the right places as he slid inside me again. Involuntarily, my eyes rolled back, and a loud groan escaped me. The same hand returned to its spot around my waist to hold me in place as Katakuri restarted his pace in this new position.

“I have such a beautiful wife. I'm so lucky to have you, I'm sorry I'm so selfish. It just feels so good, you feel so good. Thank you for letting me feel so good with you. I can't stop until I make you feel the best. I love you too, Y/N, I love you.” He continued to repeat snippets of that as he got sloppy with his thrusts. Despite the slower pace, each thrust slammed into my butt like a sledgehammer, bringing out my second orgasm. This one was more intense as tears sprouted to my eyes and my walls spasmed hard around his cock. The overstimulation left me a wreck as I blubbered out, “I'm cumming, cummin’, cumminggg!~” deliriously.

This turn of events knocked the breath of me again, and I was left wheezing as he lay on top of me, pressing me into the bed with his hard chest at my back. Nails gripped the sheets, toes curled, but I couldn't let out a single word. I didn't have to because he began mumbling again, but this time in my ear so I could hear.

That was the last straw for Katakuri as he grunted loudly a few times before quickly pulling out and making a mess of my back with his own cum. Harsh breaths from both of us filled the muggy, sex smelling air of our room. It didn't take long for Katakuri to finish letting everything out, so soon he collapsed beside me on his back. We both took a good amount of time calming down from the heated sex we just had. I was fully satisfied, if not overly so, as I lay there covered in cum and with my orgasm leaking out of me. I could already feel my back hurting from the arch it was forced into by my lover's thrusts and weight, but none of that mattered.

All that mattered was the dazed look of full satisfaction in Katakuri’s eyes as he came down from his high. He always held himself back when we had sex. This was the last wall he had up in front of me, that deep rooted fear of hurting me keeping him from entirely enjoying himself. I was grateful for the amount of vulnerability I was able to see from my paramount husband on a regular basis, but call me greedy because I wanted every last part of him on display for me. We were two very opposite people when it came to sharing our wants and needs, but as we’ve proved over the past three years, opposites attract.

“Can. . . we do that more?” Asked a meek Katakuri, his deep voice cutting through the silence. My face was buried in the mattress, but I turned it towards him with a lopsided smile.

“I thought you'd never ask. Though, maybe next time we should use protection so you don't have to pull out.” I winked at him as his already red cheeks darkened. An embarrassed groan escaped him and he quickly got up to head to the bathroom.

“I'm getting a towel for you and running a bath. Maybe once you're clean you'll stop instigating such dirty actions.” He grumbled, making me pout. I opened my mouth to retort, but he beat me to the punch.

“Don't say that unless you’re ready for the punishment.”

Damn his future vision. With a huff, I stayed silent and just waited for my towel. For now. As I waited, my gaze drifted over to Katakuri’s nightstand. On it sat that dirty black hat that Strawhat put on his mouth after their battle. My eyes softened at the memento. I'd have to thank Strawhat one day for what he did for Katakuri.

My antennae turned dusty pink.

And with that, This little unexpected mini series of my favorite mochi man ends.~ This won't be the last of him, but I have other wonderful characters that are calling my name.~ Thank you, dearies, and see you, hopefully, soon.~

Part 1 <- - Part 2 <- - Part 3

#charlotte katakuri #one piece #katakuri #mochi man #one piece katakuri #wci #katakuri x reader #x reader #female reader #knacks writes #charlotte katakuri x reader #lemon #smut

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