#sad Inside Job got canceled

[nadvs]

home before dark (part eight) (end)

pairing rafe cameron x kook! female reader

rating mature 18+

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

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

» masterlist

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

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

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

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

“What��d you just say?” you ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nervously grips the edge of the counter.

“Rafe,” you urge. His head hangs low.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who is it?” he asks.

“It doesn’t matter,” you say.

“Who is it?” he says more sternly.

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

“My lawyer,” you say.

“Call her back,” he orders.

“I can do it later.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay,” you breathe. “Thank you.”

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

“Thank you,” you say. “You, too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But you’re still scared,” he says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he doesn’t. You fall asleep alone.

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

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

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

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

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

“Rafe?” you mumble.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Rafe?” you say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Get out,” Rafe repeats.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Put it down,” Rafe warns.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“One more step!” Rafe warns louder.

Ty doesn’t listen.

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

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

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

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

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

“…happened tonight?” a stranger asks.

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

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

“What?” you breathe.

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

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

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

The police officer sighs, keeping his eye on you.

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

You find the strength to shake your head no.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rafe notices.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What happened?” you ask. “Did you…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sorry,” you say. “I can go.”

“No,” Rafe says. “What is it?”

You can’t put him through the honest answer.

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

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

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

You don’t answer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You really don’t blame me?” you ask.

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

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

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

“It’s different,” Rafe mutters.

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

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

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

Your chest tightens.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How to say what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you thinking?” he asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes,” you breathe.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is this okay?” he rasps.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You sure?” he asks.

“Yes. Are you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Exist,” you say with a gentle laugh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

“Your dimples.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Need a distraction?” you ask.

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

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

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

“What?” you ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You do whatever feels right,” you reply.

“Can you talk?” he asks.

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

“Really?”

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

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

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

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

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

Rafe offers you a grateful smile.

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

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

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

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

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

He clears his throat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Epilogue

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

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

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

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

“Want to see the painting?” you ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(the end) (continuation blurbs)

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

[deepfrost-citadel]

"You know," Xisuma said, peering cautiously over Cub's shoulder at the museum's latest addition, "When you said you wanted to show me a new exhibit, I wasn't expecting…" He trailed off.

Evil Xisuma glowered at him from inside their enclosure.

"…This."

To say Evil X looked a little miffed about the situation would be an understatement. At least Cub had done a nice job decorating, Xisuma thought, between the blackstone and crimson wood, Evil X looked right at home - if they weren't sitting grumpily in their 2-by-1 lava pool, surrounded by the mangled remains of whatever Cub had put in there for enrichment.

"Surprise!" Cub grinned, doing jazz hands at the enclosure, "I know what you might be thinking-"

Xisuma doubted that somehow.

"- 'Cub, Evil Xisuma hasn't done anything this season! They aren't a historic artefact! They shouldn't be in a museum!' But!" Cub wagged a finger triumphantly, "They are important to the history of Hermitcraft as a whole. So really, if you think about it, they definitely belong in a museum."

"… Okay?"

"Glad we're on the same page."

Xisuma wasn't sure if anyone was ever on the same page as Cub. Except maybe Scar.

"Now! As you can see, I've been decorating their enclosure, trying to add some interactive elements for guests and such." Cub pointed towards a line of redstone lamps at the top of Evil Xisuma's enclosure, "These show you how much electricity they're generating when they do their lightning hands thing. I'll be honest with you, it's broken a few times already so it's still a work in progress-"

"… Is that what all the lightning rods are for?" Xisuma frowned, eyeing the entirely lightning rod-ed ceiling.

"It is indeed!" Cub said, ignoring the twinge of concern in Xisuma's voice, "Well, a little. Mostly it's a safety thing, it wouldn't be good to have guests being electrocuted, now would it?"

"I suppose not… And it definitely works?"

"Oh yeah, it's been very thoroughly tested. Hey, Evil Xisuma," Cub walked up to the glass and tapped on it a few times, much to Xisuma's silent horror, "Wanna show X how the lightning rods work?"

In response, Evil Xisuma stuck their middle finger up at him and yelled something muffled to almost inaudibility that sounded a little like: "When I get out of here, I'm going to rip your head off and use it as a coffee mug, you stupid e-boy twink."

The pair on the other side of the glass blinked.

"… That's a no then." Cub turned back to Xisuma, "They do this a lot."

"They certainly do," Xisuma nodded faintly.

"You can probably tell the glass is uh... Mostly noise-cancelling, had to install that because Helsknight is in the next enclosure over and he's still hibernating. You know how Wels gets when you wake him up early, don't wanna find out how that guy is."

"… Of course," Xisuma sighed, pinching the nose bridge of his helmet, "Do I want to know how you got hold of those two?"

Cub laughed in the slightly unhinged way that gave Xisuma visions of Cub spending several weeks toying with the evil hermits as he hunted them for sport, "Nah man, it's not an interesting story."

Somehow, Xisuma doubted that.

"Anyway," Cub said, changing the topic before Xisuma could ask if he knew there was still someone's blood on his left sleeve, "What I really called you for is that I need an Evil Xisuma expert, and you're the man to ask about all things Evil Xisuma."

"Except for Evil Xisuma."

"Except for Evil Xisuma, yes." Cub nodded sagely, "So. Obviously I wanna make sure everything is nice for our new residents, give them plenty of enrichment and all that, but it hasn't been working out so far."

"I can see that."

"Soo… Any suggestions? What kind of thing does Evil X like? Food? Blocks? I dunno, fake derpcoin or something?"

Xisuma hummed, tilting his head in thought as he gazed at Evil Xisuma, who had clambered out of the lava pool to press their hands against the glass and give Xisuma the saddest, most pathetic puppy dog eyes their LED screen could muster (which, admittedly, were very sad and pathetic) in a silent plea to not leave them here with that madman, they'll be good for realsies this time they promise-

"Well," Xisuma said, turning to Cub, "They like to knit, so maybe they'd like some wool… Oh! And if you can find any old Wormman merch, they'll love that too."

Evil Xisuma's head hit the glass with a despairing thunk.

[mannequinreligi0n]

Mating Season

get bred, loser

pairing: dante x reader (female anatomy, gn pronouns)

wc: 2.2k

warnings: NSFW - breeding kink, monster-fucking, blood/blood play

author’s note: i’ve been meaning to write this for so long but unfortunately i am a depressed adult with a full time job, and finding time/energy to write is difficult :’) sorry if this isn’t up to standards or there’re mistakes. enjoy, smooches.

links: ao3

Twelve missed calls, six voicemails, and twenty-three texts from Dante is what you’re greeted with upon waking up - and it’s barely noon. Scrolling through the texts, you’re met with the ramblings of a madman, pleading for you to come over, to see him, to cancel your plans for the day. With a quick shower and change of clothes, you oblige in his wanton demands and head over to the loft.

You only manage a single knock before the door swings open and Dante is dragging you inside by the sleeve of your sweater.

“Dante! The hell has gotten into-“

”No time. Don’t ask.”

He pulls you straight into his bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him. Throwing you over his shoulder, he launches you onto the bed with a ‘thump’, your smaller form springing on the mattress. Dante reels over you, snatching your coat off and ducking his head into the curve of your neck with a deep inhale, nose sniffing your skin like a damn bloodhound.

”You showered,” he mopes, teeth pulling at the fragile skin of your throat. You squirm under the weight of him, hands pushing at his chest to levitate some of the burden.

”Yeah, so what?’

“You weren’t supposed to - I said not to. Did you even read my texts?”

”Dante, you’re being ridiculous. Do you even hear yourself?” You lift your head up to look at him, pushing him off of you. Dante makes a sad whine, a demeaning sound coming from the devil hunter. His messy locks flop down in front of his face and he lets out a long sigh, hands pawing at the fabric of your pants.

”I’m sorry, babe. God, you don’t have any idea how hard this has been without you,” he mumbles sheepishly, eyes fixated on the faint red mark he left on your neck. His hands trembled against your legs, clearly trying to hold himself back in order to have a coherent conversation with you. “I thought I could handle this alone, but I keep thinking about last week…how warm you felt, like that pretty little hole was made just for me,” he interrupts himself with a groan, hunching over as if in pain. You reach a hand up and push back the already sweaty strands to see his face, feeling his fevered skin brush your fingertips.

”Why didn’t you call me over sooner? You know I would’ve came,” you murmur, observing his needy state with a bit of concern.

”Didn’t wanna be a bother. I thought I could handle it on my own, y’know? I always have, but with you in the picture now-“ He lurches toward your hand on him, nuzzling into it with a choked breath. “Please…please, just-….just let me-“

You pet his cheek as you think over the proposition, mouth pursed. You finally agree with a small nod, pulling your hand away.

“Is it safe?”

”I won’t hurt you. I would never,” Dante reaches for your wrists, thumbs rubbing at the pulse points. He stares at you with his best ‘puppy-dog’ look, a pout on his lips. “I’ll be good, I promise. God, please, just let me fuck you - you got a man begging here.”

You chuckle and shake your head, pulling him back to you with a mumbled ‘c’mere’. Dante wastes no time latching himself back onto you, pulling your shirt off and biting down on your shoulder with a chesty groan. His hands work at your pants as he marks up your skin, the bites hard but nothing compared to the ones you’ll receive soon enough from his fangs. Clothes gone, you writhe under him and he sits up and sheds his own clothes, sparks of red already flitting off of his skin. Blue eyes morph red and he squeezes your thigh reassuringly, throwing you a shaky smile.

”You remember the safe-word, sweetheart?”

”Ciabatta.”

“Right.”

With a quick peck to your forehead, Dante rolls out his shoulders, cracking a few joints in his spine and neck. Warm, amber light coats his bedroom and Dante’s body morphs into his devil trigger, his nine-foot form casting a daunting shadow over your bare skin. Your breathing quickens at the sight - you’ve seen his DT before, but never like this, never between your legs and teeth glistening in your direction. Sensing your fear, Dante runs a knuckle over your cheek, mindful of his claws. A low, rustling rumble echoes from his vocal chords, bending down to meet his ghastly face to yours.

”It’s still me…” he breathes out, voice altered but still holding his signature lilt. Wings cocoon your body, cradling your form as he lifts you up to dangle in front of his chest. The heat of the flames rippling over his scales threaten to scorch your delicate flesh, the heat making your sweat glands break open and perspire. Dante’s mouth opens and an orange tongue lined with bumps and grooves laps a line across your own chest, taking in the decadent taste of you. Despite your trepidations, you can’t hold in the moan that drops from your mouth, eyes fluttering closed. Transparent, tangerine saliva drips down your abdomen as his tongue roams around, stimulating nerves from your throat to your navel, bumps dragging across smooth skin.

“My mate…Mine, mine,” Dante growls out, clawed fingers pinching at your thighs as he pushes your knees to your chest, wings supporting your weight from behind and below.

”Dante, c-careful, Jesus,” you whimper out, laser-focused on his claws dangerously close to shredding your skin open. All you get in response is another resonant growl, steam pillowing off his breath. Before you can warn him again, the sandpaper tongue swipes at your hole, making you shudder and go limp against his wings, forgetting your train of thought. One thing about Dante was that on the surface, he came off as reckless, impulsive - but it couldn’t be further from the truth. He had backup plans for his backup plans, and thought out every little thing. As much as your body was sounding off alarms to scramble away from the devil, he was taking the time necessary to warm you up before indulging himself - a preliminary ‘thank you’ for being a willing victim. You look up at Dante’s face, or what used to be his face, and lock eyes with the fiery orbs glaring down at you. It was hard to tell, but you could swear that little shit was smiling down at you, knowing you’ve put two and two together. A bass of laughter shakes his form, leaning forward to bump his forehead to yours as carefully as possible.

”Told you. No harm.”

You let out a shaky breath at his smartass remark, but it’s futile to steady your breathing. Dante’s tongue pushes into your hole, pointed and flexed as it slides between your inner walls. The feeling is indescribable, and for lack of a better word: devilish. Your juices coat the length of his tongue as it assaults you repeatedly, twisting in and out while talons keep you folded upright against your squirming. Heat floods your core as your release builds upon itself, gasps and symphonic moans invading the quiet room.

Dante can’t hold his instincts back when the taste and smell of your essence is practically reducing every cell in his body into a lust-driven beast. Ejecting his tongue, his wings cradle you down to the bed, knees kissing your ears in a mating press. Your thighs quake against his scaled palms, missing the fullness of his tongue. You open your mouth to ask what he’s doing, but the words jumble into a whine of pain as his head propels to take a bite at your shoulder. Fangs puncture skin and the devil seems to purr as the crimson nectar dribbles from the bite and into his mouth. The receptors in his brain are screaming at him to bite down again and again and again til you’re a battered, bloody mess - every centimeter of flesh peeled back and consumed in the most carnal way.

Thankfully, the human conscious in him refrains and with another nibble to your neck, he withdraws and centers himself with the pulsating warmth beckoning him in. He doesn’t need to check how wet you are - he can smell it, the pheromones rippling off your sex in waves that rivaled a tsunami. A bulbed shaft stretches into your slick and your head shoots up with a scratchy yelp, pain radiating to your hips. A huff of steam leaves the devil’s nostrils, halting to save you more pain despite his needs. Dante watches your fingers go white against the bedsheets, hanging on for dear life, and you can see his wings wilt at the realization he’s letting his devil instincts get the best of him. A clawed hand grips both of small ankles to hold you in place, the other letting go to scoop up one of your hands. Scales run over the skin gingerly, your fingers curling around his thumb for security.

“Deep breaths, baby. Big, deep breaths for me,” he hums out, the mechanic whirring of his vocal chords carrying his voice past your panicked thoughts. You obey, chest rising and falling as your blurred eyes trace the flame spitting from the top of his head. Dante can feel your walls unclench around him and he takes it as a sign to keep going. It’s a slow and painful process, but inch after inch, he manages to squeeze about half of himself in before hitting your cervix.

‘Damn human anatomy,’ Dante curses internally, but makes peace with the complication, thankful enough that you're taking it like a champ. After a moment of stillness, ensuring you’re okay, he starts to move. Armored hips lurch in and out of your tight hole, hushed growls filling your ears. All you can do is lay there, pliant and accepting. Your hold on his finger tightens as your body rocks around with the thrust of his unnatural cock, his name the only coherent word you can manage while he jabs at your g-spot continuously. Dante’s teeth find their way back to your flesh, leaving bloody constellations along your legs. So consumed by the fullness of his girth, you don’t notice the ruby fluid dripping down your limbs from the bites, barely registering his tongue greedily licking you clean. Bursts of white spot your vision, core muscles tightening as your orgasm tears through you and a scream of pleasure brings tears to your eyes.

“Mine…Mine to fuck, mine to…to take…gonna look so good when you’re full of my cum…” Dante snarls against your skin, pounding his cock into the wall of your cervix with ferocity. He can’t take it anymore - he needs to come, he needs to watch it drip out of you precious cunt. Securing his hand around your ankle, Dante runts himself into your hole, gusts of wind sending goosebumps down your frame as his wings flap behind him with excitement. With a bellowing roar from him, you can feel the powerful deluge of seed swarm your body, gushing out and down your center. You feel like you’ve been hit by a semi-truck, limbs trembling and aching as you lay lifeless under him, gasping for air.

A glare of red light makes you wince, eyes straining against the light to see Dante devolve to his human form, dripping so much sweat it’s like he jumped in a pool. Dropping your ankles, he pushes himself between your legs and plants a sloppy, loving kiss on your mouth, hands threading in your hair. You kiss back weakly, shaky hands holding onto his arms. Pulling his head back, he examines you for any serious injuries, eyes conveying a battle of concern and satisfaction.

“You okay? Hurt? Was it too much? God, sorry- sorry, I-“

“Dante, I’m fine,” you let out a wavering chuckle, sitting up slightly. “That was…incredible. You were incredible.”

Dante meets your eyes again with a surprised laugh, in disbelief you’re praising him in a state like this. His fingers trail down to the bites along the outside of your thighs, vaguely recalling how your skin felt between his fangs in his primal craze. He remains plugged inside you, the intimate mixture of releases leaking between your bodies.

“Look at you…” Dante traces along a more gnarly mark in admiration, blood trickling over his finger. “How’d I get so damn lucky, huh?”

He brings his fingers to his lips and sucks off the blood, that all-too-familiar teasing gleam in his eyes as they lock on yours. A throaty moan leaves him as he swallows, fingers falling away with a string of spit. The scene goes straight down to your heat, walls closing around on him with need. Sitting all the way up, you grab his hand and playfully nip at his wrist, dilated eyes devoted to memorizing him in this moment.

“Can we go again?”

“Again?” Dante laughs, raising both eyebrows at you. “Honey, I don’t think th-“

“Please,” you pout at him, kissing along his hand til you can slip two of his fingers between your lips. Dante’s jaw goes slack, a heady breath fanning over your face as his cock twitches inside you from your plea. With a hard swallow, he nods, free hand cupping your face.

“Fiiiiine,” he sighs out, putting on a show of dramatics before a smile tugs at his lips. “Flip over for me, princess.”

[damiansgoodgirll]

are r up for writing about gavi if so could you do gavi reacting to u pranking him telling his a guy did ur brazilian wax? if not that’s ok but can u then do it with kylian?

i’m not really a gavi fan so i hope you don’t mind i made this with kylian 🫶🏻🥹

kylian mbappè x reader

Prank goes wrong

you saw this video on tiktok right before you had your wax appointment and you had this mischievous idea to recreate the same with kylian, even though you wouldn’t be filming it you couldn’t wait to see his reaction.

“hey baby!” you said almost screaming once you got back home from your appointment.

“hey mon amour” he said from over the couch “come here next to me” he aimed at you for joining him on the very large and comfortable sofa he had in his living room.

“how was your day?” you asked him.

“boring. no practice, nothing to do…you were gone all morning and the house was pretty silent without having you here” he confessed.

“i’m sorry baby…you knew i couldn’t cancel my appointment today” you smiled to him and kissed him.

“i know i know…by the way, how did it go?” he asked, focusing all of his attention on you.

“oh pretty good! you know, the usual girl who wax me was sick today so i had someone else to do it” you said trying to act natural.

“oh, was she good?” he asked.

“yeah, he was really really good” you said, not looking into his eyes yet.

“oh great…wait, he?” kylian asked you turning off the tv.

“yup…no one else was able to do it this morning, but they have this new guy and he’s actually really good” you said once again.

“but-but where did you? you know…where, which part of your body?” he asked you trying to keep it cool.

“oh, i shaved my legs, my armpits and my vagina” you said completely normal.

“hold on…you’re telling me you had a man touching you down there?” he almost screamed.

“what? he wasn’t touching…he was just doing his job kylian, why are you so pressed? you’ve never acted like this when it was one of the girls doing it…” you said.

“exactly! those were girls! today you had a man! a man! a man who basically saw you naked! isn’t this illegal?”

“why should it be illegal kylian? he was simply doing his job…i don’t get why are you so mad…” you tried to look hurt but inside you couldn’t stop laughing, this was evil but you were having so much fun.

“but-but…a man? seriously? he touched you down there y/n…a man!”

“you probably said man a thousand times already…kylian, i don’t get why you are so mad, he was just doing his job…” you tried to resonate with him but he was actually pissed about it.

“i’m not mad!” he screamed and you looked at him “okay…i’m mad…not mad mad, just mad, i don’t know okay? i don’t know how to feel! a guy saw you naked down there and touched you and i don’t care if it was his job that shit should be illegal! a man? no way that’s crazy! you know what? give me the name of that place…i want to get waxed too…” he said and that was the moment you completely lost in and bursted out laughing.

“why are you laughing? it’s because i wanna get waxed too?” he asked you.

“no…no that’s not the reason” you said between laughs “you’re so jealous i love you kylian”

“i don’t get it…” he looked like a lost puppy.

“no man touched me down there…” you kept laughing.

“then how did he wax you?”

“kylian…” you had tears in your eyes because you kept laughing “no man waxed me, it was all a prank” you said.

you couldn’t decipher the look on his face. he went from mad to confused, from confused to sad, from sad to relieved and from relieved to speechless.

“so you thought this was funny?” he asked you and you nodded “why would you think it would be funny? i was about to get fired a man that doesn’t even exist!” he said.

“you are so jealous you would even get a man fired for me?”

“well if a man saw my woman naked i would have his head on my table…” he said smirking at you.

“oh my - you’re something else” you kept laughing.

you both spent the rest of the day laughing about the prank you did but what you didn’t know was that kylian was already working on how to get revenge on you.

[sturniolo-rat]

Tattoos and Massages Part 1

Christopher Sturniolo X Reader

Part 2

A/N: My first work “A Very Matt Morning” is doing really well and so is my Nick NSFW ABC post so I thought I would treat the Chris girlies today😌

Contains: sugar daddy!chris🤑, fluff💕

TW: mentions of having absolutely $0

In which Chris lotions up y/n’s back tattoo and it turns into a happy ending massage.

It’s Friday night, and Y/N is on her way to the house her boyfriend Chris shares with his two brothers. As a nanny for a lower-middle-class family with a two-year-old girl, Y/N makes just enough money to survive. She absolutely loves her job and little Juno, but Jesus Christ, she’s doing a lot of work. Y/N desperately needs a fun, childless weekend with her boyfriend. 

She knocks on the front door three times because people who ring doorbells are weird, and she is greeted by no one other than Matt Sturniolo. “What’s up, Y/N”

“Nothing much, man. Just looking to spend the weekend with my boyfriend.”

“Come on in, then. You know the way.” He gestures inside the house and then towards Chris’s room. 

Y/N doesn’t bother knocking and enters the room in a hurry to find and hug Chris. Their eyes meet, and she crashes into him with a strong embrace. “Oof, that’s a big hug, Mamas,” he says with a groan.

“Mhmm, missed you.” is all she says with her face buried in his chest. They hug for a long time, and Chris realizes they’re not really hugging; it’s more like he’s holding her as she lets go of the past week's stress. 

“I know you had a hard week. Was Juno a terror today, too?” he asks.

“No, I’m just worried about money, is all. They’re taking Juno on a trip, so I’ll be out of work for the next two weeks.” She hugs him harder, and he rubs her back softly.

“You’re alright, Baby, I’ve got ya.” 

They spend the rest of the night cuddling and bingeing “The Bear” on Hulu. She notices he has Hulu Plus the one without the commercials and she feels a twinge of sadness that she’s never had money to spend on luxuries like that. The show however is very good, and they watch until they fall asleep. 

Saturday morning, Chris makes sure to wake up before Y/N. Slowly rolling her head off of his chest he sneaks out of bed and heads to the kitchen to cook her breakfast. He knows she works hard for everything she has and he wants to show her that his love is something she doesn’t have to work for. He will always give it willingly; for her, it is the easiest thing to attain. She will never have to worry about money for as long as his heart beats. It perplexes him that she doesn’t know that. He will show her, but first, he has to start a perfect day of relaxation with breakfast in bed. She wakes to the sound of the smoke alarm and the smell of burnt bacon. “Fuck! Fuck! Guys, I’m sorry!” Chris shouts across the house. Y/N tosses the blanket to the side, but she hears the boys before her foot even touches the ground. 

“What the fuck!” Nick yells in the way he does. 

Matt comes out with a “Jesus fucking Christ! Turn it off!” 

Y/N wants absolutely no part in whatever’s going on. She reaches over to her airpods on the bedside table, puts them in, and turns on noise-canceling mode. Then she pulls her blankie back over herself. She really can’t be bothered with that mess.

The alarm turns off a few minutes later, and Chris enters the room cringing holding a plate of bacon, eggs, and pancakes… all burnt. She removes her airpods. “I made this for you.” he gives a sheepish smile. 

She tries to hold back a giggle “Oh, Babyboy, you shouldn’t have.” He sets the plate beside the bed and curls onto her lap. Y/N strokes his hair. “No, Boobie, don’t be sad I love love love the gesture!” She cups his face in her hands and brings his head up for a kiss on the nose. Chris takes pleasure in how delicate she is with him. Moments like this remind him why she works in childcare. She’s a nanny now but was born to be a mother. He wants so badly to one day help her become one. 

“You know what? It’s fine.” He pops up as hyper as ever. That’s Chris for you…actually, that’s ADHD for you, but it is what it is. “Because…” he says in a sing-song voice, “I have a very big day planned.” He proceeds to walk around the room gathering clothes for Y/N to put on, throws them at her, and says, “We’re taking a trip!” with the biggest smile she’s ever seen.

About 20 minutes later everybody is dressed, and an Uber is outside because he’s a silly ass who can't drive. “Where exactly are we going?” Y/N asks as they step into the car.

“That, my dear, would be a secret.” 

“Oh god. I hate surprises!”

“Well, technically, we’re not going to surprise you right now. I got excited and forgot that they were not open this early,” he admits, a bit embarrassed. 

“My question still stands. Where. Are. We. Going.”

He holds her hand to his mouth and kisses her knuckles “You and I are going shopping.” he pauses “Also you literally love surprises. So, shut up.”

She pulls her hand away upset. “You know I don’t have any…” he puts his hand over her mouth to silence her.

“And I don’t care because I am buying you everything.” 

She tries to refuse and talk him out of it the whole car ride, but he insists. They arrive at this Rodeo Drive-esque place, and Y/N is amazed at all of the fancy stores. Chris drags her into everyone he sees and physically has to force her to pick one thing for him to buy. After about the ninth store, she starts to have fun with it. By 2 pm she has a billion bags filled with everything she could possibly want and wants to head home. 

“Nope! Surprise is just down there.” He points to a tattoo shop across the street.

Y/N’s eyes widen, and she lets out a little shriek: “We’re getting tattoos!” She starts clapping and jumping up and down. “I have always wanted to get a tattoo!”

“I know, Baby, I know.”

She decides to get a large rose tattooed down her spine. It hurt like a bitch, and it still does when they arrive home. It’s very pretty, but it’s also very much an open wound. An hour later they’re in Chris’s room, and she’s ready to take the wrap they used to cover the tattoo off her back and wash it with antibacterial soap. She takes her shirt off, and Chris can’t help but stare at her soft breasts her nipples pebbling in the cool air. “Come help! I can’t reach my back!”

“I’m on it.” He gets up to stand behind her and gently peels off the plastic wrap. Her back is covered in dried blood dyed black with ink. He runs his hands down her sides landing at her hips. “You need a shower, Darlin.” He smiles to himself and whispers in Y/N’s ear “Let me clean you up.”

Oof, sorry, lads, smutty part 2 tomorrow, just like last time.

Masterlist

Taglist

@emeraldgreenbeautiesstu

[mchlgayser]

☆ we've met again ft michael kaiser

synopsis: Four years past since you left and raised his kid alone until fate decides to bring him back to the picture.

─── ୨୧ warning: slight angst

─── ୨୧ notes: Is the fandom dying?? Why hadn't my post gotten as many hype as before lmao! It's sad but anyway I'm back with another drabble to feed you all!! Happy reading everyone xoxo!

You hastily pick up your car key and grab a few of your works essential stuffing them inside your suitcase. Your four-year-old son is by the patio sitting and playing games with his nanny when you tread to him 'Kay, mama had some work to do. I promise I'll be back for dinner. Be a good boy for me and do not cause trouble alright? Have a nice day at school.: He nods putting down his gadget, and wrapping his arms around your neck to hug you 'I love you' You give the side of his head a chaste kiss before letting go.

'I had some leftovers from last night you can use as his lunch and as for the dinner I'll just buy takeouts.' You inform his nanny giving her an advance payment before you left the house.

You drove to your office receiving an unknown call on the way. You pick it up and greet the caller but silence. They said nothing before it abruptly ended. You stare at your phone before shaking your head. It didn't occur to you about anything serious as you continue steering the car and parked at the basement parking lot.

Your secretary, Miss. Juliette is already by the automatic door waiting for you with a clipboard in her hands. You got out of the car and rush to her 'What's my schedule for today?' You punch the elevator button while your secretary notify you about every single of your tasks today.

You got a lunch with one of your important client, a meet -up with your temporary business partners and a dinner with another client -

'Cancel my dinner with Mr. Han. I'm having dinner with Kayden tonight.' Juliette didn't need to be asked twice knowing how firm you can be when it comes to your son. For him, everything comes first. No matter how important your job is. She immediately postponed the dinner meeting to another date before moving along with you to your cabin.

'Do you need your coffee today?' You rapidly nod and start doing your tasks, bringing out works and files so that you can finish faster. 'Make it two, I need extras.' You lend a sweet smile before you got to work.

The clock almost strikes six - just enough time for you to finish all of your work for the day and get the takeouts you ordered online. You pack your stuff and your necessities when your phone rang for the nth times of the day. You didn't think twice before picking up 'Hello?' It was silence... Again before a sharp and low 'Hey' is heard.

You blink in surprise asking them to know who they are but no answer and it ended again. You rolled your eyes and left the room to the car park. Yo throw away your bag in the back seat and resounded the car, cooling off the engine and blowing on some loud music to distract you from the suspicious spam calls.

'Yes, thank you so much! Have a nice day!' You rolled up the window putting down the food beside you on the shotgun seat. You maneuver the car to Kayden's school in silence but the radio.

You arrive at Kayden school's main gate and got out to meet with his teacher 'Hello ma'am. I'm here to pick Kayden up.' She was looking at you back and forth 'A man has already picked him up claiming to be your husband. Kayden went along with him.' You started to panic bringing out your phone and calling his nanny asking her to come by his school and help you look around.

You bow down at his teacher and run around the neighborhood, looking for your son. Thick tears threaten to fall when you look around but find him nowhere.

You call for his name again but are abruptly interrupted when you see a vogue silhouette of your son with a familiar blond and blue streaks hair sitting together on a bench near the playground.

'Kayden!' You yelled his name averting his whole attention toward you 'Mama!' He cries out running your direction to hug your trembling form 'You scared me!' You scolded him with tears now cascading down your cheeks 'I'm sorry...' You sigh tightening your hug and breaking it off after some moments.

You suddenly remembered the familiar blond guy with your son 'And who are you with-'

'He is with me.' The familiar voice brings you out of your trance. You pick Kayden up and rush away but he holds your hand 'I met him already, no need to hide away.' You carefully yank his hand away and sigh.

You put Kayden down and hide him behind you out of instinct.

His irises collided with yours, the identical smile adorning his complexion. 'This weird uncle said that he's my father. I don't believe him because he is so ugly. I don't have an ugly father right, ma? I'm too handsome to be his son.' He absentmindedly roasted his biological father that succeeded to bring a smile and a chuckle from you.

You pull his hand gently and turn to Kaiser 'He got all your traits.' You mentioned bringing confusion written all over Kayden's face.

'You are making my mama cry.' He said creating a dagger on Kaiser 'Am not.' He challenged, his hand on his midriff with his head tilt aside 'You are. If you are my father then you are the reason my mama cried almost every day because... She missed you.' A soft gasp elicited from you, your eyes sheet moist with tears once more.

'Then tell her, she should've not run away.' Kaiser held your hand, one brow furrowing. You push him away and wipe your tears. 'Kayden, stop spouting nonsense.' He huffs and pouts away.

'How do you find out about us?' He shrug 'I had my ways and that is not your concern. Not at all.' He lifts your chin and smirks 'You are still as beautiful as I remember.' You scoff but could not help the bright red hue on your cheeks.

'And I suppose it was you too, the one that's been calling me?' He laughs but nodded 'But I'm sure with my calls it helps to remind you of one thing.'

'And that is...?'

'It would be dangerous for such a gorgeous lady as you to be in a house that's not with your husband.'

'Can you stop flirting with my mama, weird uncle.' Kaiser is about to bite the tongue of his son but you prevent him from doing so 'Kay, I need you to start getting along with this uncle from now on.' He groan cut obligated

'Do you finally accept me back? Oh, and I need an explanation as to why you left. It can't be because of you are pregnant...' You look down at Kayden and ignored his question.

His mouth formed an 'o' shape but then he smiles 'I guess I can forgive you.'

'I think I need some time...' You suddenly mention making Kaiser confused 'About what?' You held his forearm 'About us.'

He nods picking Kayden up and make him yelps in surprise 'Sure. Let's go now little K.'

He places an arm around your waist and the other used to hold Kayden. You smile feeling somehow relieved - Kaiser and Kayden ended up bickering as to who you loves more all the way home and they both get a nice scolding after.

[4imhry]

BODYGUARD!TOJI! ✧\(>o<)ﾉ✧

no warnings! just fluff, fluffs <3

“toji-san?”

his eyes were hazy as it fluttered to take a good look at you. he was sitting at the kitchen stool as he watched you brew coffee for the both of you. you can’t help but be concerned about his condition. you noticed how his movements were less sharp; less demanding.

“you’re burning—” you hand went up on his forehead, resting your palm momentarily on it. Toji gently grabbed your wrist and put it down, placing it on your side. he was being awfully quiet today. to your dismay, he didn’t move around that much either.

“m’fine, princess.” he softly spoke, feeling an unfamiliar warmth spreading across his chest upon seeing your pretty face frowned upon getting worried about his well-being.

“no, you’re not. cancel my plans on going to the new cafe today.” you said sternly, wanting to appear strict and bossy. to toji, it was an endearing attempt. he just wanted to squish that cheeks of yours, placing both of his palms which are enormous compared to your small face.

“I’m still taking you to the new place.” you walked closer so you’re standing in between his two legs. “I promised you.” It was his turn to frown.

“I said no didn’t I?” you whispered as you examined his features, your delicate fingers reaching to his hair, fixing the slightest hair twinging out from the neat ones. his heart softens.

“no. i promised to take you there.” he fixed his posture, back straightened, his broad shoulders tensed up. however, his voice sounded weak. too weak to argue when you’re standing in front of him. so close to him like this. his eyes were determined, the memory of you how you were excited a few weeks back for the new cafe around your residence to be opened came flooding back into his mind.

“there’s always next time, toji-san.” you reassured, an endearing smile etched on your face. that sweet voice. that sweet honey like voice of yours always got his insides melting into a puddle of honey.

his brows furrowed, at the same trying to fight off the thoughts of pulling you closer right then and there. therefore, if he did, it would indicate he crossed his boundaries as a bodyguard. he didnt want to risk if losing his job and parted ways from you, not allowing him to see you ever again.

his hands (calmly) rested on both of his legs, his eyes were fixed on you intently. “are you sure, princess? I don’t want to see you sulk later on.” he teased.

“I’m not a baby. as I said..there’s always next time.” you flashed a smile, playfully poking his cheek before turning around to face the counter, back to where you left off earlier in the process of brewing a coffee. he chuckled at your adorable gesture. when can he really could call the girl before him, his? because the pressure of not crossing the boundaries was eating him day by day.

>>> I’m inlove with a 3D dilf who didnt know i exist. HOW SAD IS THAT?!?!@;&:&,-)/(

[charl-col]

I’ve been watching so much inside job recently and I’m actually so sad it got cancelled :(

I’m literally so close to just writing my own season 3 on here as a comic or fanfic thing if it hasn’t been done before, but for now I’ll probs just post drawings of the show. Sorry for spontaneously disappearing too, but imma try and get back to posting my drawings and maybe some writing works in the future!!

[awakefor48hours]

Thinking about Inside Job again and I just got so sad. I think if there's any show out there that really shows how much streaming services have failed the modern TV experience, it's Inside Job.

Inside Job was very popular, had 79% on Rotten Tomatoes/91% audience score, already had more seasons green lit but then out of nowhere, yet Netflix cancelled it and didn't even have the decency to share why.

Aside from that, Inside Job had so much potential. It's a show that's not only a satire about conspiracy theories, it's also a great commentary about racism and sexism in not just the workplace but in the government. I acknowledge that that show had problems but it was only one season and still has so much more room to figure itself out.

[scribe-of-stories]

Smith of Masks: An Old Friend

[Urban Fantasy/Nior-esq/690 words] @flashfictionfridayofficial

Ashley was on vacation, a sudden windfall of canceled family plans left her free and halfway across the world. So it fell on me to man the office. Or maybe the term was 'to wyrd' the office? Haunt? Yeah, it fell on me to haunt the office. Not that I minded it. She deserved the break, and the community knew that I could use one as well.

My office building was an unassuming place, but it had grown stranger since I became aware. Used to be my office neighbors were lawyers and office workers. These days they were petty mages and alchemists. Though there was still a lawyer kicking around, but she had stopped hiding her horns. I had thought to share a lunch with her, if the day was slow enough.

Sadly that didn't end up being the case.

Smith and Byrne Investigation Agency was scrawled across the fogged class of my office door. The locks were simple, the wards more complex. Which made the fact that someone was already standing inside all the more worrying.

Unnervingly perfect in one too many ways. Red hair and an amount of Irish descent now mixed with the intoxicating delight of Fae physiology. It failed to compel me now just as it had back when we first met.

“Smith, a pleasure to see you again,”

Annabelle’s tone was disarming, words an enticement. I wondered which part of me she was referring to: the Smith as it is written on my door, or the Smith of Masks. I doubted she even knew there was a difference. Some nights I might agree.

I closed the door behind me, made my way to a bookshelf, and chose one at random. The pages had words this time, but it didn't relieve me any.

The faeling chuckled with a lifted hand to her mouth. A measured set of movements. “Ah, you remember our first meeting.”

“Hard to forget your first encounter with the supernatural,” I brought the book with me to my desk and relaxed into it. Technically it wasn't my first, but no need for her to know that. “You can cut the court act.”

Her soft features and mannerisms melted away ever so slightly to something more natural. The amused smile turned coy and a touch smug. Fucking courteers.

“Ashley's on vacation, why are you here?”

The amusement in her eyes deepend, “You're the investigator, read the narrative.”

Fucking hate Faes. Acting like they were in control all the time, holding all the cards. It was even more annoying that they often were.

We shared a moment of annoyed silence while I stared at her. I wanted to see if she would hand over the information if I didn't answer; but I was also taking the time to put the pieces together. She held her tongue, and my own thoughts were fighting to leave my skull.

“Your family ends up canceling their plans for a get together in their homeland, but Ashley's calendar was already cleared and her tickets paid for by then. She texts me this morning that she landed safely, and shortly after you show up at our office.

“I'm guessing there was no planned family vacation, just you pulling strings to get Ashley away from here or to somewhere you've already made safe. I'm reading that you have a job for me, and it's something you wanted to keep your dear sister away from.”

“And I've come to the best paranormal investigator this side of the Mississippi for help,” Annabelle took a seat across from me and folded herself up into a proper, courtly, posture.

I got out my notepad, ripped the pages from the last investigation off of it, and settled in for another job. “First things first, the fees. Though half of this office's investigators are gone I'll be asking for our usual price, considering the circumstances.”

Her false softness returned and she put on a sad tone like a clown puts on makeup. “Oh? No favors for an old friend?”

[ben-pincus]

Hey how are you?

May I request some angst to fluff(Reagan ridley x reader) where Reagan is badly injured and reader takes care of her and they both catch feelings?

zoo wee mama took a break from writing inside job there because I was a bit sad my sillies got cancelled but this hot chocolate is making me write again lets go!!!1

"you gotta hold still, man.." you brought the alcohol wipe to the gnash on her forehead again, surprise surprise, she flinched back.

"ow!! fuck!!" she winced.

"we could take a break? I just don't want it getting infected, is all." you sat back on the office chair, spinning it around while looking at her office.

you two had come back from a mission that failed, which resulted in reagan getting injured and you only having a few scrapes and bruises.

"just- just fucking get it over with!!" she groaned, frustrated as she felt blood trickle down her forehead again.

"shit.." you pulled down your sleeve over your knuckle, using it to wipe the blood off her forehead.

she was confused by this, why would you ruin your perfectly good top for her??

"right, it's gonna sting like shit. again. you can hold my hand if you're up to it. I know it helped me when I was younger n' getting injections n' all that shit.." you extend out your hand, your palm facing up as you waited for her to hold it.

she didnt hold it, yet.

but when you put the wipe back up to the gnash, she grasped onto your hand and squeezed for dear life.

"we're almost done, just a bit more."

you were being so gentle with her? why? she hasn't been that nice to you. she doesn't even remember talking to you that much.

"now! done!" you leaned back, taking the bandages and wrapping them around her head, cutting it off and tying it where it needed to be tied.

"you'll look like you just came out of hospital, but it's better than actually being in hospital, right?" you cracked a smile, closing the first aid box.

"uhm. yeah. yeah." she wanted to say more, thank you! would you like to go get a coffee sometimes? even though my social skills are fucking horrendous?, but her mouth remained closed.

you cleared your throat, "just, come back to me in 2 days to change the bandage. or if it rips. 'kay? I'll see ya round." you smiled at her before exiting her office.

safe to say, she definitely ripped it just so she could see you again.

"I dont like them!! sure, they make me feel like im dizzy every time I see them, and yeah, maybe I get nervous and stutter when im around them, and-"

reagan was greeted with knowing stares by the rest of the gang,

"-oh shit."

[insidejobramble]

Sad that inside job got cancelled, it would’ve been cool to see an Andre centered episode, if we got to see more of how these characters grew, what new adventures they had together, and what the robes had in store for Reagan.

[animationadventures]

Maybe I’m alone, maybe I’m not, but this is something I’ve come to accept for myself: With TGAMM’s future looking bleak, I count myself lucky for not getting too attached to it despite loving it dearly. It’s just happened to me too much more than I can count with shows that I’ve loved yet got sadly canned. Wander Over Yonder, Milo Murphy’s Law, Rise of the TMNT, Inside Job, Harvey Beaks, Welcome to the Wayne, Final Space, and so on. It’s a lesson I’ve decided to learn: Unless a show has an iron clad, written in stone good future, I won’t develop a 100% emotional attachment to it. It makes it a lot easier to accept the loss of said show if its future isn’t good. I know this might sound sad, but I personally can’t handle the sadness of something I love get the ax anymore. It’s happened too much for me already. I hope all of this is understandable.

I totally get it.

I fell hard for The Owl House when it premiered, and it absolutely crushed me when it got cancelled the way it did. After that, it's been difficult for me to get attached to a new show, knowing that they can be cancelled just as badly.

I also have lost many shows I loved like Danny Phantom, Steven Universe, DuckTales, Infinity Train, and most recently, The Owl House.

[patheticmenscuffle]

i was writing some gilear propaganda but he is so pathetic that there was so much and my phone died so here are the greatest hits

-last night he couldnt get to sleep so he tried to jack off last night but was too sad so he stayed up all night eating expired yogurt

-his car got repossessed by the rideshare app he works for

-the most divorced man in the realm. cucked in his first marriage by a demon from the nine hells called gortholax the insatiable who was trapped inside a ruby at the time

-passed over for guidance counsellor at his daughters school for a drug dealing werewolf named jawbone

-jawbone was objectively better at the job than gilear ever would be. and also later got with his ex-wife

-(trying to talk to a woman hes interested in) "sklonda i'll level with you: i recently found out that one of my shoes is so filled with mildew from a leak in my apartment that i have this new kind of foot fungus, and my doctor says..." "thats a nat 20 charisma?"

-gortholax the insatiable later got with sklonda also

-got hired as the lunch "lad" instead. his daughter fig set up a tip jar to try and boost his moxie but all he received was written cruelty

-somehow became vice principal

-soon fired as vice principal and demoted to "intern" on fig and her friends' spring break quest

-"gilear do you want some elven whey bread?" "ah, no id better not i cant afford it." "im giving it to you, its a gift." "i know, but if i eat it then ill remember how it tastes and i wont be able to get any of it later"

-died no less than 4 times on said quest (maybe more i cant remember)

-the first time was after having his face used as a launchpad by his stepson fabian to get advantage on an attack roll. fabian "got advantage from jumping but also got disadvantage, cause its gilear, so it cancels out"

-fabian wants to kill him. his mother (gilears girlfriend) makes gilear sleep in the garage

-the second time was upon taking ambient damage from a rain of hellfire immediately upon following his daughter to the nine hells ass moral/legal support

-the third time was after a sarcophagus he was hiding in was shot from a canon

-last time was when he clipped the tip of his penis putting on the armour of the sin of pride. he almost survived because he has no pride but then he started feeling good about how he was doing and immediately died and his body was spat out naked into the forest of the nightmare king. hes hung btw

-(unprompted) "mm, this yogurt tastes exactly like potatoes!" "gilear thats potatoes" "what?" "youre eating mashed potatoes" "ah.. another 'own goal' for gilear faeth..."

-got all jammed up in the wheel well of a van while "trying to do a little trick for himself" and let his bare foot touch the morning dew while reversing very slowly and eating an apple at the same time

anyway. gilearsweep!!

God they're really jsut throwing this poor fuck into the washing machine over there huh?

-Mod Knight

[dawning-day]

top 15 tv shows (in no particular order except i did number them bc otherwise i would forget to do 15)( love u @soleadita and fuck with the icon change immensely)

crashing (2016) call me marissa cooper the way i am ruthlessly stealing this pick but yeah it's. it's insane and fantastic and terrible and beautiful and so much happens so fast but its so so important to me

inside job (it's gross and weird and funny and sad and it's one of the only times i was genuinely upset when i heard about a show being cancelled)

young justice (pointing at an on fire garbage can - this is my son and i love him)

gilmore girls (comfort media of all time what else do you need)

bob's burgers (similar to the above it's very i am falling asleep to the weird bisexual man who is a mess at all times except for how much he loves his family)

fleabag (why yes i have a perfectly normal relationship with the catholic church and the concept of being truly known. why would you ask. and yeah i real life cried)

yuri on ice (idk if anime counts but fuck around and find out this is My List (tm)) ((it's beautiful and soft and lovely and sad and stressful and i listened to the instrumental track so many times it was on my spotify top songs. it's literally just a piano and a boy with a dream and i have wept about it))

given (it's the first anime i ever watched all the way through which in retrospect, fucking insane way to come out of the gate. as a Band Kid (tm) who wanted to be a theater kid but was bad at speaking in front of groups of people, this show did a lot to my psyche in the best way possible)

will (enough with the tears its time for something almost embarrassingly niche. in 2017 TNT had a drama series about william shakespeare and to this day it remains one of the greatest things ive ever seen. jamie campell bower plays the sluttiest version of christopher marlowe you've ever seen in your life. it's chaotic and ridiculous and i absolutely adore it. i have no idea where to find it im pretty sure they want us to forget it exists but i cant)

numb3rs (silly little show about a nervous man who solves murder with the power of math and being a pathetic little wife guy to the hottest woman ive ever seen. theres an episode about trains that i think rewired something in my brain)

white collar (look at me. obviously im a white collar guy. come on now)

invincible (i think ive seen the pilot episode like 4 times. i genuinely think it redefined to me what superhero media could be. oh i adore it more than anything. it's only 9 because i haven't seen season 2 yet but holy shit. holy shit. media of all time. if you want to know me fundamentally and wholly please watch the pilot. i'll watch it again anytime im not kidding)

teen titans (cherished childhood media of all time. only group of people who have ever understood dick grayson)

bridgerton season 2 (i'm bias on account of just finishing it yesterday but holy shit two people have never been in love like they are in love)

the flash (cw) (im sorry to both my mother and god for this one but unfortunately i don't have taste and also it's the reason i started caring about dc in the first place which is the reason i got back on tumblr and met all the cherished gay people in my telephone so yeah. barry allen's allowed to be cringe as fuck i owe him everything)

leo already tagged everyone i know on here but if u see this pls do it and @ me im nosy

[adhdvsautismbracket]

Hey, I found you too late to submit, but did folks submit the duo from "I Am Not Okay With This?" A supremely unfortunately early cancel Netflix show?

I know we're way late to like have it be in the running, but if folks aren't aware and they like this dynamic, This show takes place in a high school and involves the protagonist discovering that she has barely controllable superpowers in a world where that's not normally a thing as far as we know.

Sydney Novak, our protagonist, (played by Sophia Lillis) is also a budding lesbian figuring out that she's got a thing for her long time best female friend... And she's also almost certainly on the autism spectrum and I love her....

And then her new good friend is a great weird guy named Stanley Barber (played by wyatt Oleff) who's almost certainly got ADHD. XD

They have a great dynamic, and when he figures out that she's got powers, he like immediately starts devising training strategies pulled straight out of comics etc, is not phased barely at all by her very dangerous powers, just totally down to help her master them etc. XD

But my favorite moment is one where they're both stressed? And his stress is manifesting in him doing a lot of stimming and hyperactive stuff, and her stress is manifesting in her being very easily over stimulated, and his stimming totally sets off her over stimulation and XD 💚💚💚 oh bbs. That's some real ADHD | ASD education hour shit right there. XD

Sydney and Stanley DID get one submission!!! I would have liked to see them in the tournament if they'd gotten more </3

very very sad that I Am Not Okay With This only got the 1 season. netflix looooves to cancel their shows with autistic-coded protagonists, especially if they're also women (i.e. Inside Job, Dead End Paranormal Park). but I do recommend the 1 season we got to anyone who likes dark comedies and or shows with queer/neurodivergent themes!!!!!