#until graves gives him a reason to hate him | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nadvs · 10 months ago

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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 😋

#this is about 10k+ words so get cozy 🤭#rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron and you #rafe cameron and reader #rafe cameron and y/n

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romanteacism · 27 days ago

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Knight Aemond x Princess Reader How Did it End?

Synopsis: We hereby conduct this post-mortem on how you and Ser Aemond had end. Warnings: None (yet), Angst, Princess and Aemond's (not so) Secret Relationship, Not proofread (like srsly...pls bear with me, i'm dyslexic) PREVIOUS PART A/N: Bear with me here-- istg this will pay off 🥹

How did it end? Even you yourself did not know how or why; it just did. All of it ended without a clear explanation. One did not know that the last kiss shared would truly be the last. Or did they know that the last lingering touch would no longer remain and burn the fire of longing. All of it just ended. Abrupt and unforseen. And all of it ended with the blandest of goodbyes.

Two years had passed, and you still had no clear explanation as to why he had left. Why did he leave with no warning or reason? Why did he leave his post— his duty— his oath that he would forever be by your side until his dying breath? Ser Aemond did not give an excuse as to why he had left you. You only garnered minuscule information here and there that Ser Aemond had to rush back to his family’s seat as his brother, Lord Aegon Targaryen, had fled as he had no wish for duty. Leaving the post to his brother, who quickly left his station, his princess, and his heart in the capitol.

It could be considered treason to be a deserter, but Aemond had enough forethought to tell the King of his situation but not enough as he had made no explanation to the princess. Leaving her in anguish as she could not understand why the man she loved, the man who promised her devotion and security, just left without a word. You were in a state of denial the first few weeks. Blaming yourself as you thought your ungratefulness and want of space made your knight leave. You wrote letter after letter, prayed prayer after prayer, hoping you would be heard and have Ser Aemond back. But after two moons of ignorance and neglect, you began to realize that you had lost him. You began to accept that he was never coming back. That he would never return to you. That the space you had foolishly wished for was given in full.

It did not go unnoticed by the court as to how their lively and cheery princess had grown somber and desolate the moons following her knight’s departure. Your eldest brother was the first to notice. He watched as you tried to appear unbothered in the eyes of the court but quickly be overcome with tears and sadness when you were left alone. The king was next to notice, feeling guilty as he did not hinder your knight from leaving as he thought it was best after what he had seen in the north.

He thought the two of you were just a passing fancy, and he thought it better to dissolve whatever the two of you had now before it progressed because he would hate to see his daughter be placed in the shoes of his grandmother, who had fallen for her knight. But as the king saw the grave sadness in his daughter’s eyes, how whatever they did to cheer her up— new shoes, dresses, pieces of jewelry, parties, balls, or even the freedom and independence she craved did nothing to lessen the sadness in her.

That was when the king asked for the aid of your eldest brother. Confiding in him what he had seen. There he found out the whole truth of it and how his eldest already knew of the situation at hand. You had fallen deeply and madly for your knight, and your father was only consumed in further guilt as he had been one of the reasons why your heart was now in pain.

The King tried earnestly to reverse what was done. He tried to summon Ser Aemond, who now held the title of Lord Targaryen, but he was never given a direct answer from his daughter’s knight. Only his courtiers stated the lord’s regrets as he could not leave his new post to return to his old one.

It did not take too long for rumors to spread that the reason for the departure of the princess’ knight, who was rarely seen not by her side, was because he had taken the title of his older brother and, along with the title, came the responsibilities of a lord and the duty to find a suitable wife. Aemond was made to leave his princess to take responsibility for what his brother had left when he fled, and he needed to marry the girl who was escaped by her betrothed.

When the news began to spread, your father dreaded for you to hear it and went to great lengths for it not to reach ears. Going as far as sending you to a neighboring kingdom along with your older brother and mother. Leaving your father and eldest brother to wait until the story dies and went to great measures so that it would not be revived when you come back home.

There, in the neighboring kingdom, you met the crowned prince. A prince your mother had pushed upon you as she was overzealous with the idea of you marrying someone with the same station as you but more passionate with the thought that you would live an ocean away. It did not take long before your mother and Prince Andrew’s father to betrothed the two of you. You could not even find the strength to rebel, to hinder the betrothal placed as the fire and life within you died when your love had left.

Word was quick to spread that the princess had found herself a prince. Even went as far as to say that you were already married off in the neighboring kingdom as your father quickly sailed there to oversee the plans your mother had made.

The news that their beloved princess was married reached everyone, and all was joyous of the news. All but one. As Aemond heard about the betrothal, the fire that had died in his veins burned hot with rage. He had the urge to run to you— to finally respond to the multitudes of letters you sent— to sail to the neighboring kingdom and take you. Leave all of it behind, just as his brother had done. But as he remembered what he did, how he left you with no further explanation. How he ignored your calls and pleas, and how he had a betrothed himself, he knew he had no leg to stand on. He knew that you were truly far gone. That his heart— the only girl he ever loved, found another while he had to settle and be at peace with the duty he chose over her.

As much as the news of your betrothal became prolific, and as much as your mother had wanted the marriage, it did not happen. Your supposed betrothed was in love with someone else, as were you. Leaving whatever plans your parents had made futile, and you sailed back home unburdened by a betrothal or marriage. Though no one made any word to dispute what your citizens came to know, so in their eyes, you were as good as married.

You spent your days in solitude. You rarely left the halls of your castle and only attended balls when you had no choice but to. It took a year for your older brother, the prince, to learn of the true relationship between you and your knight. And he only came to know because he had overheard your father and brother speaking of what to do. The prince could not believe what he had heard, but at the same time, it finally gave him the answers for your sudden change. None spoke of it, of course. They tried earnestly to reverse your melancholia, but none addressed the reason for it.

You let the days pass you. Tried hard not to think of Aemond and what the two of you were but, at the same time, did so because, by some paradox, it was the only thing that brought you a sense of happiness. You cursed the gods and fates because how could you be so cruel to let you have a glimpse— a taste of what love felt like harshly snatch it away from your grasp. Leaving you bereft and reeling off what you could have had.

You wanted to hate him— to curse him for how he had left you broken, but you could not have the heart to do so. You tried to rest easy in the thought that even though you were left broken, at least your love was happy in his choice. That you two were simply not fated for one another, and no matter how hard you stubbornly try to make it so, it wouldn’t work.

So, instead, you tried to distract yourself. To go back to your customs before you met Aemond. You plunged yourself into distraction after distraction. From attending court to asking for duties to even taking care of the litter of kittens your cats had. Anything and everything just so your mind would not wander back to your knight and wonder what could have been.

It seemed to work for a while, with you preoccupied with your duties and the matters of the court. However, when you caught word that Aemond was betrothed to a noblewoman and both of them and their kin were on their way to the capitol to finally ask the blessing of your father, all your progress had undone itself.

Your brothers fretted as they realized that the news had reached your ears. They stood outside the door of your chambers and tried to speak of a plan on what to do, but as they heard your faint cries, they realized that whatever they tried to cheer you up would be moot as you once again needed to grieve the loss of your life.

As Aemond arrived in the capitol and began to walk the halls of your home with his future bride by his side, myriads of emotions swirled within him, but what was most prominent was fear. In his years, Aemond had grown unacquainted with fear. As a knight, he was taught to no longer feel such emotions, but all the teachings instilled in him were forgotten as he dreaded to face you.

He was filled with unease to see the consequences of his actions— to see you once more after he had broken your trust and heart. But what he probably dreaded most was seeing you with the man that the kingdom had speculated to be your husband. He could not stomach thinking that you were already bound to someone else. That your skin had touched another, that your lips had tasted another than his. He could not phantom the thought that you, his princess, were no longer his.

Hypocritical as it is, Aemond believed that you would not let someone else take your hand. That you would wait for him because you had always promised that. You made an oath to him that you would never love anyone else nor let another take your hand but him. But it would seem like the both of you had broken your oaths, and Aemond could utter no complaint as he broke his first.

Aemond mindlessly nodded as his betrothed gushed in excitement about their presence in the great palace. Marveling at the keep and the lavishness it held. Naught a thing changed since he had left. Aemond caught the curious gazes of passersby as he returned. Shamelessly eyeing and whispering about him as he passed, he could no longer bring himself to frown at their actions because his body was filled with anticipation of catching a glimpse of you.

“Oh, my darling… just think of it! Our wedding ceremonies could be made here!” Lady Cassandra, Aemond’s betrothed, exclaimed as she tilted her head above to marvel at the concaved ceiling that held a great chandelier. Aemond was quick to frown at her words. “No.” He said abruptly and felt the urge to cringe as Lady Cassandra linked her arm with his. He wanted to push her away, fearing you might appear from one hallway and see their proximity.

“Why not? Other lords and ladies were married here under the king’s blessing. And you were once his favored knight! Having been the youngest to receive a Medal of Valor. Surely they would approve.” Lady Cassandra further tried to convince, and Aemond felt his patience running thin. “No. We have decided to have a simple ceremony at home.” He gritted and found reluctance to utter the words.

“You have decided that. I wished for a grand wedding! Hundreds of guests in attendance and witnessing our union! Just imagine… their cheers and celebration for us.” Lady Cassandra sighed dreamily, and Aemond rolled his eye as he turned to his head to glance back at a portrait of you that was hung in the great halls.

It was of you on your sixteenth name day, a year before you two had met. You were fashioning a scarlet dress with gold lace trimmings and one of your multitudes of tiaras atop your pretty head. There was a small smile on your lips and a flower in your hands. Aemond could not help but stare; the portrait was the first glimpse he had of you in two years, and all the emotions he had repressed threatened to spill out.

As Lady Cassandra noticed her betrothed’s attention was caught by the princess’ portrait, she too gazed upon the work of art. “Do you think I, too, could wear a tiara during our ceremonies?” She then asked, and Aemond was brought out of his reverie and felt annoyance course through him at the girl’s question. “Your station does not warrant it.” He said simply and saw as his betrothed’s face morphed into something unpleasant to view. “But I am a lady of a noble house,” She huffed. “But you are not the princess.” Aemond bit, effectively shutting his betrothed up.

By the east wing of the castle, you locked yourself in your chambers as you did not dare to leave for fear you might run into Aemond and his soon-to-be lady wife. You lay desolate on your feathered bed with your five cats. Theodore and Sapphira had sired you three kittens to care for and distract yourself with. You mindlessly brushed the fur of one of the kittens as you stared at the canopy above your bed.

You felt the urge to cry, but your tears had dried out three days ago, and you had transgressed to a state of numbness. You could only hope and pray that the days would be quick and for Aemond and his betrothed to leave hastily because you could not stomach seeing the man that you had loved— that you thought would be the one to be in the arms of another.

You let out a shaky breath as you hear a faint knock upon your door and your brothers cautiously making their way in. “Sister…” Your eldest brother called, but you made no movement to acknowledge their presence. “We brought you custard tarts; please eat. At least just one.” The prince muttered in concern, a rather grave request at the tip of their tongues.

Your mother wished for you to attend the welcoming feast for the lords and ladies seeking marital blessing from your lord father. The queen is unaware of what had transpired two years ago, and even if she was, none of them believed she would care and would still subject her daughter to the same room with the man she had once loved and the woman who he would marry.

When your brothers revealed the order of your mother, you faintly shook your head. “Tell her I am ill,” You said quietly. “Or ask Father to intervene,” You added, as you truly had no wish to face Aemond. “We have tried… but she truly is insistent. Even father cannot change her mind.” The prince informed her. “I do not want to.” You said once more. Feeling as your two eldest cats left the comfort of your bed and wandered into the halls.

“We know, sister. And we’re sorry, but it would seem as if you have naught but a choice,” Your eldest brother said in sorrow as he caught a glimpse of Lord Aemond with his future bride walking the halls arm in arm. He would hate for you to see such a scene, but your mother would not be denied as she insisted you attend the welcoming feast.

You pursed your lips and sat up, witnessing the grave faces of your brothers through your somber eyes. You knew that you truly had naught a choice, and that pained you even more. “We shall be by your side, we promise.” The prince muttered and held your hand. “If you wish, we could place them at the end of the hall so you do not need to catch a glimpse of them— or better yet, I shall sit in front of you, blocking your view.” Your eldest brother jested, and as much as you wished to crack a smile at his joke as you had always done before, you could not do so.

“Tell Mother I shall attend,” You finally sighed. Conceding as you tried to make peace with the fact that you must see the man you once loved with all your heart be in the presence of another that he had chosen over you.

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cherie-doll · 4 months ago

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COD Men; including Nikto headcanon reaction. Of their wife using corporal punishment on their kids; ie, using a belt, slipper or even a coat hanger on the kids. Because it was ‘used on me and I turned out fine’ mentality.

lol this brought back memories

ᡴ Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Rudy, Phillip Graves, Makarov, Keegan, König, Horangi, Nikto

Price

He'd prefer if you didn't use any physical force, ofc tho he understands why you do it sometimes

However he can't help but feel bad because even if he isn't the one spanking the kid with a belt, he sees them crying and comforts them afterwards because he doesn't dare intrude in the moment

Even when he tries to use his role of captain you shoot him a look saying that just because he has authority out there with other people he certainly needs to know his place as a father here

Shoots a remorseful look to his kid and leaves but at least he knows where to go to afterwards to find him

Ghost

Absolutely hates you for pinching your kid awake at the family function, and he thinks you're the one overreacting

You did the minimal thing in the moment but here Simon is acting as if you were being an abusive parents already, you try and tell him it's nothing but he's not having any of it

Honestly it's kind of endearing watching him get so protective of his kids like that

Soap

He thinks sometimes you get too ahead of yourself when you're scolding the kids but he won't hesitate to step in when it comes to physical punishment

Tries to reason with you on why it's okay to give them a pass, just this time alright? You hate how easily you give in

Gaz

The one time he found his little girl crying silently in bed after you had sent her to sleep was enough for him to gather her in his arms and literally beg you to not do it again

"She gets so scared" he pleads because he doesn't like seeing her cry which sort of irks you because you don't know how else to discipline them

He doesn't like it, doesn't care if it was used on him when he was a kid or on you but he certainly doesn't want to continue it

Roach

Even he flinches when you raise your voice indicating you've reached your limit and are about to spank the kid, you don't even need a belt or slipper, you use your bare hand

When he nervously asks why he does it you just shrug and say that's how your mother disciplined you and it worked so

"Can you... not do that?" because he doesn't wanna risk stepping in himself

Alejandro

It might be normal to him, it's not unusual to be yelled at or hit on the daily because that's how he grew up, if anything he might even say when a kid needs it

To a certain extent of course, he will interfere if he thinks the punishment has had its effect on the child

But don't ever ask him to do it, especially not when your kids were very small, but he had no problem doing it when they were teenagers

Rudy

Don't ever even ask him to lay a hand on his babies and can't stand to see you do it either, no matter how many times you've explained to him why it's sometimes needed he doesn't like it

When you want to try he'll instead take the kids aside and prefer to speak to them, they should be old enough to understand

And it surprisingly works, they come back apologizing to you for making you angry and Rudy will just come and squeeze your shoulders saying "See? They're not bad kids"

Phillip Graves

He knows that when you use physical force for punishment it's not for just any reason, he's learned it that way because his own mother was like that

She'd give warnings and stern looks until her patience was thin and was reaching for his father's belt

He did have a serious talk with you once when he thought you started spanking them too young, like as toddlers because they didn't know what they were doing yet

Makarov

Either really on board or is prohibiting you from doing it ever again, like who cares if his kids run a little rampant? Who's gonna be the fool to try and stop them when Makarov is their father

On the other hand he's sending warning glances to his kids that your temper will be rising the more they act up so it's best they listen and sit still

Keegan

He really was about to go and ask if you were crazy but then he saw you deliver a single slap to your kid for speaking disrespectfully and he turned right around only giving the kid a "you're on your own" look and a shrug

When the kid asked him why only you hit him and Keegan doesn't he shrugged and said that's how you were raised

They both hide when you find a mess and are trying to find the culprit

König

Sometimes he's not there when you punish the kids but when he comes home and goes into their rooms only to find them playing on the floor quietly he asks them what's wrong

They'll softly whisper into his ear that you only just gave them a spanking and he's cradling them in his arms and hugging them, promising he'll talk to you so you're not as "harsh" on them

Horangi

He sometimes plays favorites with his children without even realizing it, like he won't do anything if the boys get in trouble and you have to spank them

Oh, but if it's one of his girls he's defending them, there's a reason they run to him first when they do something they know is wrong

Nikto

Despite how he was raised he for some reason doesn't like it when you punish your kids, he gets all serious and doesn't speak to you for a while until the anger wears off

Instead of hitting them with a coat hanger like you do he prefers if you pull at their ears instead and let them off with a warning, it's the least you could do

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ladykailitha · 2 months ago

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Yellow Daisies- A Valentine's Story

When I finished the last of the Boy with a Bat story I wanted to do something fun for Valentine's Day. But I bit off more than I can chew, so I'm releasing the first part and will release the others as the come.

Summary: Steve was told that men only received flowers once and that was at their funeral, so he made it he's life's mission to give everyone flowers as often as he could. Or Five Occasions Steve gave flowers and the time he got them in return.

Each part will have the flowers he gives and their meaning for the occasion.

Steve had heard early on in life that men only receive flowers once and that was when it was too late to appreciate them. At their funeral. It made him sad. Even boutonnieres had to be bought and paid for by the boy doing the asking.

Men got hearty handshakes and boys got a pat on the head. Even in sports, girls got flowers for their wins, boys if they were lucky got teddy bears and other stuffed animals. Things that guys immediately tossed on their way out.

Not Steve though. If he got a teddy bear, he kept. Some times they got regifted if the girl really liked one of his collection, but rarely.

So he always tried to make sure he gave as many flowers as he could. Because even though he would never get any back, he wanted to make sure everyone else in his life got as many as possible.

1. Mother’s Day: Pink Carnations- motherhood

When Steve was about eleven and was given money for the first time as allowance when he started middle school, the first thing he did was rush out and buy flowers for his mom.

He bought her white roses, like his father did all the time.

Maureen sighed. “I know you don’t know any better, Steven. But don’t be an idiot like your father. I’m allergic to roses.”

Steve nodded and quickly carried them away when he saw that her eyes were starting to water.

Then he tried poinsettias for Christmas, because he had seen her put out the plant every Christmas and he even picked out the best ones.

Again the gesture was dismissed, though this time it took longer for Steve to notice the poinsettias that were on display weren’t his. It had been hard to tell at first. Because they all seemed to look the same to him.

But then while he was taking out the trash, he spotted a pot tucked away by the garage with wilted leaves and a cracked base.

Steve felt a swooping in his stomach. He knew without taking a single step toward it that it was the one he gave his mom. And while he wanted to believe that the cracked base was the reason it was hidden away. He knew it wasn’t. He knew just didn’t fit his mother’s idea of perfection.

The last time he tried to give her flowers was on Mother’s day a few years later. She had actually been home for a change and so Steve had wanted to do something special for her. So he bought her her favorite chocolates and pink carnations.

Maureen took them with a pained smile and a quiet thank you.

It wasn’t until Steve had come out to the kitchen for a glass of water did he understand what that meant.

She was on the phone with one of her friends. “The chocolates are all right, I suppose. I’ll just have to be sure to portion them out so I don’t get fat. But those flowers, Sophie! They were dreadful! Like I wanted to be reminded I was a mother. My youth is already fading and now carnations! I might as well have one foot in the grave at this point!”

Steve put a hand over his mouth as tried to fight down tears, but they spilled out over his fingers, hot and stinging. He slid down the wall and sat down with a quiet thump. He listened as his own mother complained about how she had felt pressured by Clint to have children and was honestly relieved when told she wouldn’t be able to have anymore.

He got up and walked back to his room, where he held his pillow to his chest and laid down on the bed as he cried and cried. He knew his father hated him for being such a disappointment but to hear that his mother hadn’t wanted him in the first place was hard pill to swallow.

“Dude,” Steve huffed, smacking Dustin on the back of the head, knocking his trucker hat to the ground. “You aren’t doing anything for you mom for Mother’s Day? I thought you loved your mom.”

“I do!” Dustin protested slamming his head back on his head. “But gifts to moms are like baby stuff.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “No they aren’t. Now, if you tried to make her shitty ashtray or macaroni necklace I’d agree with you them being childish. But a heartfelt card or even make her one of your electronic doodads would really make her smile.”

Dustin scoffed.

Steve leaned forward into his face. “Because if you don’t I will completely show you up and you’ll never live it down for the rest of your life.”

Dustin gulped, eyes wide. “What would you even do?”

Steve just smiled slow and sinister.

Dustin had made a light up sign that said: Happy Mother’s Day, Ma!

Claudia kissed the top of Dustin’s head when he handed it to her. “Oh baby, I love it. Thank you so much. It’s going right on the mantle.”

Dustin puffed out his chest. Just beat that, Steve! he thought gleefully.

Then Steve showed up for dinner with the biggest bouquet of pink carnations he had ever seen. They were like the size of his head. They were wrapped in a delicate white tissue paper and tied neatly with a pink ribbon.

“Oh Steve, they’re beautiful!” Claudia cooed, gently taking the flowers from him. “You didn’t have to get me anything. I’m just grateful you could make it to dinner.”

Steve beamed up at her. “Nah, I wanted to. You’ve been more a mom to me than mine in every way possible. And I know everyone loves to get get flowers.”

She kissed his cheek and then went to go put them in a vase. “It makes me so angry when I think about your mother, Steve. There are some people who don't deserve children. But I’m grateful you’re here, now.”

“Yeah, Steve,” Dustin said, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Even though you aren’t blood, you’re as much a part of this family as either me or Ma.”

Steve blushed. “Thanks guys.”

Claudia bustled him further inside to the dinner table and started dishing out the gorgeous meal she had made.

Steve smiled up at her. He had offered to make it for her, but she told him she loved cooking and it was always a treat to make something special so he let her. And seeing her now, he was glad he had gotten her flowers instead pressing the dinner issue, because she looked really happy.

And when he came back the next week, he found the carnations turned upside down to dry out so she could keep his flowers for longer. The love he felt for her grew so much more when he saw that.

2. Get Well: White Spider Lilies, Snowdrops, and Yellow Orchids- Good Health, Consolation, and New Beginnings and Friendship

Steve wasn’t sure who was less surprised when Nicole got mono their freshman year, her parents or her friends.

Even at the tender age of fourteen, Nicole liked the boys and she wasn’t afraid to get what she wanted.

Which made it more hilarious when it was revealed that she got it from a dirty drinking fountain at the elementary. When kids too young to be kissing got mono, her parents first thought that she got it from a boy who had a sibling at the elementary and had been contagious. As her younger sister hadn’t gotten it.

But nope! She had drank from the same fountain because she been there to pick up Penny from school and had gotten thirsty waiting for her.

So when they were allowed to visit her, Steve of course bought flowers. He had asked the florist for something especially nice for a sick friend and she made a bouquet of beautiful white flowers.

Steve went up to her house, flowers in hand. Nicole’s mother cooed over the flowers and told him what a sweet young man he was.

But it went spectacularly wrong when he went to hand them to Nicole.

She took the flowers and looked at them mournfully. “I–I mean thanks. But I only think of you as a friend. I–the flowers are very pretty but I’m not sure I can accept them.”

Steve stared at her for a moment shock. “No, no!” He waved his hands back and forth. “No. It’s not that. I promise! I just taught growing up that you got people flowers when they weren’t feeling good. That’s all, okay?”

Nicole looked down at the pretty white flowers and breathed out a sigh of relief. “Yeah. Okay. Thanks, Steve.”

Things went smoother after that. But Steve made sure to let the person know they were get well flowers right off the bat.

Something he was sure he didn’t have to say, but now he wasn’t so sure.

The aftermath of the Battle of Vecna as Dustin was calling it, was rough on everyone. Eddie and Max were in the hospital. Neither one with good prognoses. Max was in a coma and Eddie was still in surgery after eleven hours.

Even Steve was currently in the hospital being treated for sepsis because once the adrenaline wore off after bring Eddie to the hospital his body decided to overreact to his injuries and shut down.

He hated it. He hated that he was there in a bed that should be used for someone else.

“Steve!” Robin admonished when he voiced these complaints to her. “You almost died! I think it’s okay for you to take a break and let other people handle it for a change.”

Steve really didn’t have anything to say to that, because she was right. He could have died if he hadn’t fainted when he did. And they were telling him it was going to be a long and painful road back to normal, but he would get back to normal. He was in good health, kept up a healthy diet and exercised regularly, it was just almost getting eaten alive that caused his body to go into overdrive.

Which, fair.

So he made sure that both Max and Eddie had flowers delivered every day. He even told the nurses to give the other flowers to patients that didn’t get visitors. Something the nurses loved him for.

The flowers he sent Max and Eddie were the same ones he had gotten for Nicole all those years ago. Snowdrops and spider lilies. But for them he asked that another flower be added to the bouquet. Yellow orchids.

When Max woke up, he was standing there, holding her hand. She looked over to see the flowers and scoffed.

“I don’t need flowers, dumbass,” she said rolling her eyes.

“Everyone needs flowers,” he insisted. “The snowdrops are for consolation. The spiderlilies are for good health, and the orchids are for new beginnings and friendship.”

Max looked over at the flowers again and then up at Steve. “I love you, you asshole!” And she gave him the fiercest hug.

Steve held her tight and kissed the top of her head. “I love you too, Max.”

Part 2 Part 3 Epilogue Part 1 Epilogue Part 2

Tag List: TEN SLOTS REMAINING

1- @itsall-taken @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @sadisticaltarts @dolphincliffs

2- @gregre369 @a-little-unsteddie @irregular-child @cryptid-system @kultiras

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @dreamercec @blondie1006

5- @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @genderless-spoon @fearieshadow @thesecondfate

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #valentine's fic #language of flowers

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angelesca · 7 months ago

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need sunday's touch so bad but he is being emo about it

wc: ~1370 // content & warnings!: pining, so close yet so far grr, sunday x gn!reader, pet name("little bird"), kissing n' touching but nothing explicit, slow burn-ish a/n: i wrote this as a sequel in mind (part 1 here), but you could likely read this as a standalone. however, i make references to part 1 so it would probably flow nicer ٩(◕‿◕｡)۶

"SUNDAY," YOU FIRMLY STOOD YOUR GROUND, "WE CAN'T DO THIS ANYMORE."

the stars shone in sunday's eyes, shining golden with undying devotion to your sacred temple. between yours and his desperate eyes, millions of unspoken words traversed back and forth.

in his room, your hands gripped both arms of his chair, confronting him face-to-face. today, you will shatter your fears.

his eyes lowered, face tilted away. "i do not know what you are referring to."

your eyebrows furrowed. "don't give me that excuse."

you were both trying to hinder the fierce, unbreaking desire to tip the edges, testing patience.

all the emotions you have clutched in your heart weighed down on you, and it punished you the more you realised your fondness for sunday. when your eyes searched for him - and there he was - in the shadows without fail. when you caught the lift of his lips, cheeks, and eyes as your gazes met. and you do not realise how your smile naturally jumped higher until he abruptly left you alone. to acknowledge how much his presence affected you.

it constricted you slowly, a vice that gradually tightened as days passed. the love you reserved for sunday cast pain and joy - a double-edged sword.

"do you hate me?" you asked, resolute, yet trembling at the thought of his response confirming your anxieties.

sunday's eyes narrowed, questioning the nonsense you were spewing, tracing your hazy expression to figure you out.

"then why do you avoid me so?" you asked, "you have never stood within even arm's length. you have never handed me anything in person. you have never picked me up when i fell over. and... "

always so close but never there, your mouth opened but did not convey these last words. you shut your eyes momentarily. "i don't get it. please, tell me, anything please, just some words to explain this silent distance between us."

sunday's stare softened, wordlessly embracing your vulnerability. however, he was conflicted on whether to comfort you. to indulge in this new light at the end of the tunnel, which you forlornly wrenched with your hands, would be to infringe upon your divinity. his hands that have known endless suffering and sacrifice, could never dare to brush yours unless he craved to provoke the gods.

sunday paused a moment before announcing: "i will be leaving soon coming the charmony festival."

"... what?"

his words parted a greater distance between you two.

your vision clouded. the vice - tightened. relentlessly. twisting deep into your weakness, stripping you bare of your guard. you were hearing crashing waves and everything tipped over all at once. this was it.

"if you're leaving, i respect your decision. but you cannot leave me like this," you replied, biting your lip, "do not leave me to wonder what your touch would've felt like." wetness coated your eyes.

"my hands are unclean. i cannot grant you this." sunday vowed. his fingers opened but withdrew them just as quickly.

"so stupid," you muttered. your chest exploded, "then just taint me. corrupt. with your 'blood and sin'. after all, i am no saint either."

your fingers ghosted over his pristinely gloved hand. hands that, which 'hid blood and sin', had never once sullied a speck of your blessed body, gravely frightened of dulling your radiance with the slightest trespass into your orbit.

"i am not some deity that needs sheltering. i am just another existence, just as you are." you finished.

sunday's eyes widened, thunderstruck. you articulated reason into his stubborn mind: you were no godly being. your brightness made him believe he was not worthy of you; you were on the far horizon that was unreachable to him. yet, you were just another existence, just as he was.

he spoke hesitantly, "of course not. you are one of the strongest people i have had the pleasure of knowing. i know of your gratuitous kindness, strength and bright eyes. you are not anything less," his voice withered, "i did not mean to discredit you."

"then what is stopping you from me?" you taunted.

your ears drowned out everything but the rapid lifts and falls, and the deep and shallow pacing of his breaths. his fingers twitched in response, attempting his hardest to restrain whatever fragile control he had left.

he did not think you would confront him like this. he believed living in your shadow would make him insignificant enough for you to forget him after his plans. but you both could not ever forget each other. how could he forget you at all? he did not plan for this. how stupid he was.

he listened to your breathing, mimicking as you did to his, pacifying his wavering worries. your comfort and company felt natural, like home. the sun was dimming and the stars began to set in your eyes as they whispered reassurances. the apprehension of tomorrow was blanketed by your steady voice which commanded mountains and soothed fires.

you had stood on his horizon, finally within reach, and he was right there with you. the waves were slowing in his ears - he had returned to your shore.

he swiped the tears varnishing your glistening eyes, but not close enough to touch your skin. he was about to let the scales tip in favour of you. "so you would not mind? you would not mind me?"

your eyes formed their crescent shape and sunday melted into it. "you can be so stupid sometimes."

fervours resonated, heartbeat-to-heartbeat, pulsing for one another's precious touch.

it pained both of you greatly to observe how the other needed, yearned, yet never touched.

magnetised, yet ill-fated to repel; parallel lines that would never meet; the inverse ebb and flow of day and night. the universe tried its hardest to work against them.

to brave beyond the barriers enforced by universal law would be to risk everything faithful in the world.

with one more breath, all fears finally shattered.

your touches finally found each other, joining at the horizon.

initially, awkwardness hung in the air. shuffling and shifting. fluttering fingers and bashful staring. contented smiles and chuckles at the unimaginable situation they had wandered into. like a mirror, reciprocating back and forth, neither knowing what to do. overwhelmed but delighted.

sunday decided to make the first venture. he gently unfastened his gloves, to your surprise, and you learned every scar, bump and discolouration on his bare hands. it was not hideous, nor did it bear any sin. it was only human.

your hand crawled up his palm and he quivered at first before settling into your solace. fingers instinctively intertwining - a key and lock that fit each other. his thumb grazed your knuckles. you drew along the lines of his lips and he released an unsteady breath, nestling into your touch.

the way his palm timidly sketched the outline of your body but did not initiate further. how he shrank as much as possible to house you on his lap. when he looked at you, infatuated, puppy-like, waiting for you to throw him a bone. anything. he was all yours to command.

so you shed your shame and press a kiss on the corner of his lips. you did not move far, lingering in front of his face. it took him by surprise, evident by the pink flush on his face and the fluttering of his wings above his ears. akin to a dog wagging its tail.

he inhaled deeply. an indiscernible look flashed on his face. his brilliant eyes eclipsed, darkening, and his face tipped over. his lips hovered by your ears, on the verge of precariously meeting if you did not back away.

"bad..." he mumbled, "you are a bad little bird."

electric ran up your spine as the words left his deceptively innocent lips. you sat up straight, at attention, the sensation of heat overriding your senses.

"a-ah..." you could only focus on the fire pooling below your stomach, writhing, as a tornado stormed your mind.

he pulled you closer. hands snaking up your shirt at an agonizingly slow rate, teasing you, corruption taking over.

"do not run away now. you will finish this mess that you have made."

and you and sunday crashed, collided, and met each other, all at once.

a/n: yikes this was longer than i hoped for. there are still many dynamics that i can envision with sunday but this was long enough. hopefully this fic makes someone happy out there ahaha ;'') thanks for reading!!😘

#hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #sunday x reader #omg i forgot to add tags😪

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sevs-corner · 5 months ago

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Random HCs I have for the Tf 141: Mafia AU! characters :PP

for future plot points hehe

Ghost is a cat person but only came to love dogs because of Johnny adopting Riley and him ending up raising it for most of the time

On the other hand, Graves hates cats and hates you for taking care of the chonky white cat at the alleyway by the bakery (He also hates that you take care of it more than you do with him, like c'mon he wants to be fed by you too)

All of them are boy failures when they try courting you, and you try your best to reciprocate !! (but sometimes that there's so silly and trip over their own shoelaces that its too cute not to stand and watch sometimes)

Those big scary men being love sick fools

They definitely get slack for it from Nonna and Nonno

The two (Ghost and Graves) have the biggest sweet tooth actually, and then run through the entire stock of treats whenever they stop by but are unable to sit and eat

Ever since you started working regularly, the guys try to stop by as often as they can, which makes Nonno and Nonna happy (becuase they were drifting further away until you came)

Only Price, Ghost, Soap, and Gaz visit often even before you came but even that became harder to do as time went on

So, Nonno and Nonna likes spoiling you with food because of it (not like you knew the intention behind their actions, you were just happy to eat free food really)

Price and Johnny is the type to just drink coffee in the morning then go about their day, only eating meals once or twice

They aren't the biggest eaters, even though Johnny does more physically laboring tasks

But he's more of a protein shake kinda guy, the type to drink his meal if all of it can be blended (he couldn't be bothered to prep his own meals)

Gaz, on the other hand, needs his meals

So he ends up dragging Ghost along with him in the mornings at the bakery for the breakfast special

Ghost doesn't really care to have anything in the morning 'cause his appetite kicks in (for some reason) late at night, so that's when he eats a lot

Alejandro is a 3-in-1 coffee drinker and Rudy is appalled

Even more so at you as you encourage this behavior by making his sachet 3-in-1s fancy with all the extra foam and drawings on top (he's jealous)

Rudy is a plain black kinda guy, but will try anything you offer or have concocted with (he's just a test dummy for your experiments but he's happy being your dummy either way)

Graves loves lattes, hot or iced- you already know what he's feeling for depending how he strolls into the bakery

If he's a bit downtrodden, he needs a cold pick-me-up, but if he's hyper and needs a bit of a cold down? that hot one would be very much appreciated

He also isn't the type to eat a lot, but will scarf down anything you make (he would never decline any of your offers or experiments)

The one who gives you the best critique to your creations is Gaz, Rudy, and Ghost actually-- straightforward, gut-punched, but points of improvement all the same

Graves and Soap sugar coats too much, Alejandro gives simple praises (not wanting to make you hurt for commenting on your hard work) and Price...

Well, a simple nod and smile is enough to make you happy that he doesn't get the chance to as you prance away in happiness

>Bonus part:

Konig and Horangi loves your savory treats, like those quiches, tarts, pies-- everything, the whole menu!

Just send them a picture of your creation and they're quickly finishing off a guy and bookin' it to the bakery in no time

Konig likes the space (table) you saved for them at the side, a bit secluded but still in view of both entraces

He knows you keep it clean, with their favorite condiments stacked to the side, seats fluffed and cushioned, table clear of any food residue-- every. single. time.

Konig also like your personal favorites of treats as well (makes him feel closer to you somehow)

But draws the line at your weird concoctions of combines drinks he's not quite fond of (like that coffee and soda mix? yeah, he did not want to get palpitations thank you very much)

Horangi is one of the few who ready and willing to try out anything you dish out

Even that special energy drink you tried making for Soap once, and let's just say that he couldn't sleep soundly for a week...

He doesn't regret it though, when he sees your gummy grin and tiny hops that you do when you get excited

Maybe...next time...just lower the dosage for his sanity, please?

Alex and Farah are a duo you don't quite see often but wished you did!

Alex pops by at least once or twice a week to pick up his orders, but more often than not, you're delivering their orders to their HQ

Barely having the chance to eat with them makes you sad (they are too), but when you guys do-- you go on for hours

Gossiping is the main source of Farah's entertainment and why both also avoid doing it with you

Because, one time, they went on for hours that lunch became dinner and that became a sleep over

And they had to catch up on so much work

Yeah, they're both yappers

and they indulge you and your interest so much, that they're mainly the ones getting you the things you like and it being displayed in your room

You like that one movie with cars in it? Boom, you have the same race car as a bed

Roach actually helps around more than anyone in the family

Even though he's handling the back more, you sure as damn well know he makes the best food ever

He's sometimes with the 141 guys or KorTac duo, but either way-- you'd seen him come alone to the bakery a lot

Being his ear and shoulder when he needs it, but vice versa as well

the usual culprit that overstays at your apartment really (which makes the others rage)

Roach is the happiest when he sees you eating his food happily, so don't blame him when you become a lil' plump (you're cute either way and he'll definitely lessen it if you ask him to)

Makarov visits the least but always does the grandest of things (he's extra like that)

Surprisingly, Nikolai is tied to hip with him whenever he comes in (he keeps Makarov in check really)

And they either visit super early in the morning or late into closing that sometimes you come in early or close out late just so you could do something for them

they don't want you forcing yourself like this but they appreciate you very much

Makarov and Nikolai loves spicy food, or food that just gives them a kick in the mouth and they love how you adjust it to their taste the best

They are more of tea and beer drinkers really

Water? The tap is dry and so they are

So you have to force them to drink it in between

And that's the moment they leave and try to escape

Just so you know, you have chased them down the street before in nothing but your flip flops and you still caught up to them (not before accurately hitting them on the head with it)

Kate, Allen, and Ramirez often come in together as well, a quick order-in and a pick up thereafter

They're busy with the reconnaissance work but likes making light banter with you

Some scones, mini brownies, or any quick bite- they'll have it and compliment for your hard work

Allen likes his coffee half and half while Ramirez likes it in shots, he needs his bursts of energy being the 'designated' errand boy of the two after all

Kate on the hand, has a jug of tea (you swear) but often takes two to three cups for herself (which you happened to learn was actually all hers once you asked a confused Allen about it one morning)

And yeah, that it (thought it'd be neat to see what i can come up with for their food and treat preferences hehe) Please check out the chapters and other one-shots here in this masterlist!

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the-night-moves-writing · 10 months ago

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Savior- Sisterhood (part 1)

Winchesters x Sibling reader (sibling bond ONLY)

Castiel x Winchester Reader (Platonic)

Summary: When Castiel goes off the deep end and becomes god, he finds he still has a soft spot for the smallest winchester

Warnings: angst, reader is mute for a lot of the fic, Descriptions of a panic attack, mentions of John Winchester being a bad father

Characters: John, Castiel x Reader (platonic), Dean x Reader (siblings), and Sam x reader (siblings), very small amount of destiel (you can see it if you squint)

Word count: 1746

A/N: Hi guys! I feel like i might post a little bit more now that i'm back, also there is a part two (and maybe three) in the works for this! i will create a list for you to be able to find all the parts and link it to my masterlist once i get it all set up. Also now i am on A03 and i will link that to my masterlist here in a little bit too. Anyway sorry for the long authors note, heres the fic. <3

I think of ways to turn the tables and fear what happens when they turn, the anger he fills in turn fills me with uncertainty and anxiety. His father passed the hate down the table, passed through graves and passed through cradles. He said he could never turn out like him, he was different. He kept those he wanted to protect at arms length, never fully giving himself the right to feel and to be loved. The one exception to the rule was Sam. Little brother Sammy, his whole reason for continuing on was to take care of Sam and protect him. Then here I came into the picture like a wrecking ball through the perfectly built motel room.

Left on the doorstep with nothing but a note that read: John i could no longer take care of our child so i give them to you. May they grow to be strong and better than the both of us. There was no name left on the note but my father John Winchester knew who it was from, some random lady in a bar. He never wanted to deal with me so he placed me into Dean's caring arms. Dean was not only my brother and caregiver but also my dad in my eyes. So Dean and Sam became my whole world my entire life, until Sam left us for college. Being only 6 at the time I had a very little understanding of why he left but Dean always just said he left us. So I hunted with Dean and John, well less hunting and more researching for them and learning everything I could about the lore so that I could be helpful to Dean and John and take Sam's place in hunting.

Then it was just me and Dean hunting and I learned the basics. When Dean went to get Sam from college because John had been gone for a few days on a hunting trip i was so angry, how could he leave us and how could Dean still want him back especially when i was 10 and more than capable of helping dean. Then he came back and we were together again and things were good, until Dean died and Sam dropped me off at Bobbys. I was 13 years old and I could hunt with him, I didn't want to be away from both of my brothers. Bobby thought that I needed a car though so he let me rebuild one with him so I rebuilt my sweetheart, I couldn’t call her baby despite me loving the car, a 1965 mustang. A nice little two seater that I had painted green. I used the car to visit where Sam had Dean buried, all the time. Bobby was concerned at how much time I spent at his grave but I couldn't help it.

I had lost both of my brothers and the only family I had ever had and I was grasping at straws, I lived but it was my spirit that was haunting Bobby's house. I had become basically mute within these past months and Bobby was trying everything to get me to speak again. So when Dean returned out of nowhere I stayed by his side, though it worried Dean how quiet I was. I never left his side though which helped to ease his anxieties and when the entity was following Dean we had bigger things to deal with. I stayed far away from Sam not being able to look in his eyes after being left again. Then we met Castiel. I was very worried and very scared. Somehow Cas picked up on it though and constantly eased my fears, he could tell why i didn't trust Sam and unlike Dean accepted and understood it. Cas easily became a good friend to me because I didn't have to speak with him and he didn't have to try to understand human norms with me.

Dean and Sam were both worried about this new found friendship between me and the angel but they saw the way that I was opening up. Saw the way I was becoming happy again and they just couldn't interfere. Everything changed when I turned 15 Castiel died and Sam went to hell. Cas came back though like always and when Sam didn't have a soul and Dean was searching for a way to return his, Cas stuck by me cared for me and kept me safe. He answered when I called and he took care of me. He takes care of me and is the only person I can trust. Then I hit 16 and the worst period of my life began, Cas declared himself the new god. The sadness I felt in my chest, crushing my heart.

For the first time in almost 4 years I had something to say

“Cas STOP!” I said

Everyone turned to stare at me, and Cas turned to walk towards me. He took my hand

in his and said,

“I am extremely proud of you my very devoted little one”

His tone borders on threatening and dipping into enjoyment and pride.

He looked between Dean and Sam and myself before he spoke once more

“I expect complete devotion from you all…” he paused for a second, taking a breath before turning to me. The look in his eyes was no longer the soft and comforting look I had grown accustomed to.

“…you have proven that you will speak for me in what you consider dire situations, so I command you to continue to do so” his gaze softened “ You have always been my favorite, my little one. Please do not give me any reason to punish you.”

I, not being able to meet his gaze any longer, turned to look at the ground. My favorite person was now gone and there was nothing I could do to bring him back. I could follow him and leave my brothers again, leave my family. Or I could stay and lose the person I'm closest to in the whole world.

I could hear Dean and Sam shouting but I felt like my head was being pushed underwater, I couldn't breathe and I could feel the tears begin to run down my face and splatter on to the floor below. My vision was blurry and it was so loud everything was so loud, my entire life was falling apart and there was nothing I could do about it. I was completely hopeless and useless, I wasn't good enough. Good enough to help Sam and Dean with hunts, or protect them from going to hell, I couldn't do anything. I could feel my breathing quicken and my chest tightening.

“STOP” Cas’s voice cut clear though the air, he turned from the boys walking towards me. My thoughts, eyes, and breathing were still shaky and unfocused. At some point I had ended up on my knees sobbing.

“Obviously I cannot leave the care of you to these two, my little one, I better take you with me.” He stated, me not hearing him, though it was more a threat to the boys. Dean finally noticed me and ran over and moved to be on his knees, Sam hot on his trail following suit to kneel in front of me.

“Hey hey hey your ok sweetheart, I promise. I got you, deanies here, don't worry.” Dean said, bringing up the nickname I used to call him trying to calm me down. Dean and Sam continued their calming words till my breath returned to normal. Cas was still staring at us from afar. He looked at us for a minute before speaking

“If you wish for me to let you keep your sister I expect obedience Dean, I do not want to fret over her as i try to rebuild heaven. I could always just take her with me if that would make you more compliant.” His voice booming and loud

“P…. please let me stay” my voice is still shaky and rough not only from the panic attack but from years of not using it.

“This is not a decision for you to make, if i dont think Dean is capable of caring for you then I won't hesitate to bring you with me.” He said to me

“Remember for almost 4 years I was the only person you spoke to. I know everything about you, and Dean cannot care for you as much as I could, little one.” Castiel’s voice seemed to soften when speaking to me. Dean could no longer take the former angel speaking as if he could not care for HIS siblings any longer.

“I’ve taken care of her my entire life Cas I think I know what I am doing.” He said a little bit pissed and it showed through his voice.

“I am no longer Cas to you Dean, you may refer to me as lord or god but never speak as if you are close to me again.” The statement was heartbreaking for the hunter, who always had a ‘profound bond’ with the angel.

“Another thing you say you have cared for them yet they were mute for four years, and you have caused so much damage to them. Do you really think you can care for them better than I?” Cas asked him completely serious

“I tried Cas you know better than anyone that i tried for almost two years, but i can't MAKE them talk” Dean was full blown angry now. Making me more frightened

“I TOLD YOU TO NOT CALL ME CAS.” Cas said his voice booming off the walls, he brought his hand up to slam Dean into the wall

“Stop, stop, stop please, I’m sorry, I'm so sorry, please just let me stay.” you cried out

“You have no control over my actions, little one. Dean had been given too many warnings, but seeing as you want to stay I will allow it, but believe me I will be doing check ups, and if I believe that you are not being cared for I will not hesitate to take you. You are still only a child who needs to be protected.” Cas said putting Dean down, Sam running to help him, Cas then turned from me to the brothers before speaking one last time.

“Heed my warnings. I am not going to repeat myself.” he said before disappearing, leaving the siblings alone in the warehouse.

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sunfish5149 · 8 months ago

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After rewatching round 6 for the nth time I just realized Till Win is reflected in Ivan's blood and OH. MY BMFUCCKIGBGOOOODDDD I HATE THEM I HATE THEM O HATE TJEM they could never make me hate you ivan.

Till standing next to Ivan while his body is still cooling feels awfully a lot like how a person would mourn at their loved one's grave, but I think that there's a lot more going on inside Till's head, and this just saddens me. I would crumble personally if I was him, because to me, Ivan's death also feels like a slap to the face I guess? Because until now his crush on Mizi allowed him to be selfish, to believe that once she was gone, he would be left all alone. He gave up his will to live, accepted defeat without further struggle, because he idolized and idealized Mizi to a point where his whole life depended on her existence. Perhaps he does have a crush on Mizi, but I fully believe that it partly stems from the love and adoration he saw Mizi offer to Sua, almost like "what if I could have that too?". He could not bear to part with the love and salvation he saw within Mizi, to the point where he gave away his freedom just to be near her, just for the chance that maybe he'd finally know what it feels like to be wanted, to be loved. He selfishly cut away at all the bad parts in this picture that he did not want to see, the worthless parts, the painful ones, the suffering he has endured at the hands of his captors, and ended up cutting away at the people that might've cared for him, that still do, until nothing but Mizi remained, who he foolishly believed to be able to offer him what he so desperately wanted. He made himself believe that he was alone, up until he truly, truly was. Until when can a man doggedly chase after one person until the death of what I dare call " the closest thing to family he has ever had" drop like flies around him? Round 6 offers us an answer.

I believe that part of the reason why he stood there as Ivan bled out is him processing that someone actually cared about him, loved the parts of Till that he saw to be loveless. It also feels like a wake-up call, the cut up picture that he has constructed his life around has finally been proven as the lie it is. He can no longer be selfish enough to close his eyes on reality, on his obsessive idealization for someone who will never, who cannot save him, on the fact that Mizi already loves somebody else so dearly, because the love he was searching for in someone, to be returned, was right next to him all along.

Too bad he only noticed Ivan when he was bleeding out at his feet. This is the closest thing to salvation Till will ever get from someone, to love so dearly one would give away their life without hesitation, to throw away their freedom, to not cut away at the corners of this picture, but to see it and love it and do everything to preserve it. Should Till look at such a picture, he would find the pieces of paper he has cut of himself which he believed to be loveless, reflected back at him in that puddle of blood. (I wrote this part fully relying on the muscle memory of my keyboard because my tears were deeply obstructing my vision)

This sacrifice will either ruin Till or give him motivation to live and the tenacity to fight back and free himself from the prison he has willingly walked in, and to finally accept that Mizi is a lesbiab and a ferocious grieving woman kisser. oh my god.

Edit: I JUST REALIZED MIZI ALSO IDOLIZES SUA THE SAME WAY TILL DOES WITH MIZI I HATE THEM I HATE TJEM J HATWHENM

Edit 2: this rant is lowkey outdated because first of all, I feel like I insulted Till's love for Mizi. Just as Ivan loved Till for his tenacity and fighting spirit, and whatever else he saw in that wet cat of a man, so did Till love Mizi, for her innocent happiness and love that poured out of her. She was the only one out of them who was blissfully unaware to the pain and suffering of the humans, and the shit the aliens put the rest through, the fact that Till was attracted to her partly because of that makes me feel miserable. I do wonder what he will think, should he survive and see just how much Mizi has changed, how she has grown to fight for what she wants to protect.

I also feel that I have underestimated Till's relation to Ivan, he truly did care for him, Ivan was just too cryptic to express himself

#alien stage #alnst ivan #alnst till #ivantill #alnst mizi #alnst round 6 #alnst round 7 #this was a wholeass #character study #im gonna go sob hysterically #ALNST #alnst

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livingasaghost · 3 months ago

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so burrich gets this earring from his grandmother - the earring that is a symbol of freedom, that she wore when she won her freedom from the horrors of slavery, her own salvation that she passed on to burrich - and burrich has this earring that he specifically decides to give to his friend ("friend") chivalry, a man who essentially saved his metaphorical life and gave him a reason to live...(and may or may not be one of the loves of his life)...and this is the only thing of value that burrich has, literally worth as much as GOLD, and he gives it away to the prince who is the king-in-waiting because that is how much chivalry means to him...so chivalry is burrich's salvation and in giving chivalry this earring he's saying that chivalry is his new master...until chivalry dies and the earring is seemingly lost forever...except patience - who by the way used to be (is still?) in love with burrich but was married to burrich's "friend" / master chivalry - hangs on to the earring and after a time decides to give that earring to chiv's bastard son fitzchivalry...to connect him to his father? to connect him to her because she wishes he was her son? to give him his own freedom from bastarddom? but fitz is essentially raised and fathered by burrich...who is so close to abandoning his best "friend's" son but stops because he has chivalry's earring and burrich's life is tied to that earring, pledged to the man who wears it, and chivalry's life is still tied to that earring, so now burrich is pledged to his (beloved's) son, and fitzchivalry is just like his father but he's also just like burrich who is also his father and burrich is terrified that he could parent a child who turned out to be just like him, so he tries to save him but fitz is not chivalry but burrich pledged himself to him all the same and so no matter how much this boy messes up or yells at him or makes burrich hate himself or makes burrich miss his chivalry, he cannot forget that that earring is his salvation, that earring is his beloved, that earring is proof that he must go on living...even when he thought that earring had been buried with chivalry in his grave...and maybe fitz never earned that earring the way his father did, but goddammit burrich can't help but feel like fitz earned it on his own, if only because he gave burrich a reason to keep on living day after day even after his beloved was gone

#IM MAKING MYSELF INSANE #THIS IS SOO....#rote #assassin's quest is killing me btw #robin hobb #this is my thirteenth reason actually #mine #jreads

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low1key · 2 months ago

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: ̗̀➛ ALICE IN BORDERLAND

RYOHEI ARISU -------------------------------------------------------------

backstory: arisu grew up as a glass child. all the attention his father gave was directed toward his younger brother, hajime. he was always better at everything in their father's eyes, while arisu was seen as the stupid and failure sibling. he always compared them to each other. arisu sometimes felt like his father didn't love him; he never received attention from him. that's why, later on, he craved attention and the desire to be seen as a hero unintentionally. the hatred from his father stemmed from arisu being similar to his mother. his father considered her stupid and claimed he didn't like stupid people, which is how he viewed arisu. he even stopped taking his children to her grave, even when arisu desperately wanted to see his mom. when arisu's mother died, it was as if the only parent who cared for him had also died. his father hated him so intensely that he even made the only teacher who cared for Arisu—who encouraged him to start playing guitar—move to a different school because he wanted arisu to stop pursuing "stupid" hobbies and learn "useful" things instead.

in borderlands, he suffers significantly from survivor's guilt, major depressive disorder, which is common when experiencing such guilt and existential crisis but one by one:

7 of Hearts :: this was when his best friends died, the only people who cared for him. he was infuriated that he was the only one who survived because he believed he was a failure with nothing ahead of him. for instance, karube wanted to get married, was strong, and had a chance of surviving. he had nothing but them, which triggered his hallucinations of the people he felt he had killed in some way. because of this, he felt immense guilt; he would have preferred to die instead, but deep down, he truly wanted to live. however, he only lived for others and needed to find a reason to live that didn't involve other people.

selfishness : even when arisu seems like a character who acts for others, he mostly does it to feel better about himself, to feel as if he has done something for someone—so that now he can be viewed as the good one as the hero, to receive attention . he also acted out of pure selfishness, such as pairing usagi with niragi in osmosis because he didn't want to face the awkwardness with her after an uncomfortable moment where also he only considered what he did wrong instead of trying to understand usagi's feelings or asking her about it. that's why niragi compared him to himself and chishiya—they are all selfish. arisu never noticed this until the moment niragi hit him with reality. but when he realized it, he wanted to change right away. however, it's not so easy since he's still holding onto the past. hallucinations—it all started in the 10 of Hearts. he sees karube, chota, and shibuki and begs them for forgiveness, but his perception of karube convinces him to live for the three of them. this leads him to adopt the idea of carrying their lives on his shoulders so he would feel better about himself and what happened. the next time, during the queen of hearts, he has another hallucination. he struggles to understand his emotions and wonders if he has changed at all or if he is still selfish. he sees many versions of himself that tell him things such as: "You don't want to live, but you can't die either"; "It's easy being egotistical"; "You don't need to rely on anyone, nor trust anyone"; "Being nice to people is tiring, after all." he can't stand it; he runs away from his feelings, but then, suddenly, he finds himself in a dark tunnel, searching for an exit. he then sees chota, shibuki, and karube, but now they're giving him advice instead of blaming him, essentially telling him that his only enemy is himself. even if he thanks them, he pushes this away. then he sees kyuma, who confronts arisu, with him holding onto the past, lacking parental love and attention and tells him that's why he can't give attention to others. kyuma wants him to mature and grow up from this and tells him, "There's always an exit from the darkness. Please don't forget that." of course, it's all in his head; he knows these things already, but he uses others to help him admit it to himself. later, after hallucinating his friends dead—deaths that could probably have been easily prevented—he ends up being forced to dive into his psyche to review everything from the past, but he can't do it. (in the show, it was when arisu was shown lying in different places in the borderlands.) then usagi slits her wrists, which brings him back to reality. he truly tries to escape the hallucinations, but he meets the "old version" of himself—the one that is selfish and would not care for usagi. he then admits he hates himself, he despises who he was, and usagi's final words help him leave the hallucinations. they allow him to overcome his trauma, move forward, and find hope in usagi—hope that he can change and that he wants to do it with her, for her, and for himself.

queen of hearts: this game was arisu's deciding moment. the game was about overcoming trauma and mira's words—to have such a strong will to live that you could distinguish between what you want, what is real, and what is going on in your head. so, when he overcame it, he won the game. he finally found a reason to live and started living for himself - he wanted to change for HIMSELF - instead of others, leaving his past behind. from now on, he can fully enjoy life, and this was what he meant when he said he couldn't be like kyuma, because kyuma was never holding onto the past and fully enjoyed every moment of his life. but now, Arisu is free—free from the past and finally able to be like kyuma and enjoy his life even when his past wasn't good.

in aib Retry, where arisu is in his thirties, he became a licensed clinical psychological counselor, working in a school to help students with psychological issues—to help other teens like him since the events in Alice in Borderland took place when arisu was ONLY 18.

#aib #alice in borderland #aib s3 #japanese #manga #arisu alice in borderland #arisu ryohei #chishiya shuntaro #suguru niragi #yuzuha usagi #kyuma

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shamixlour · 10 months ago

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The Bear - 3x10

This scene was a masterpiece and obviously horrendously tragic at the same time and that for multiple reasons.

For a little context, we're at EVER restaurant, funeral diner, everyone is having lots of fun and we get a glimpse of Sydney in the middle of her peers. She fits perfectly in, participates in the conversations, entertains and definitely grasps the heart of the people around the table AND YET you have Carmy totally absent. He is the one who invited her and he is not present, he is not here. Instead, he keeps staring down at his old chef two tables away. He keeps staring, dissociates himself completely from his environment and doesn’t interact at all with his old cuisine acquaintances. At first, no one really pays attention or at least you are pushed to think so until Luca asks him if he’s okay and remarks that Carmys is staring. Sydney finds an opportunity in this to ask herself and note that he is indeed staring and wonders who he is staring at. Carmy, eyes still locked on the Chef David Fields from Empire tells them and this is the only moment he interacts with the people around him. Right then and he starts painting the Chef’s portrait to Luca and Sydney.

Carmy : He's the fucking worst and one of the best Chefs in the world. Luca: Well, he used to be one of the best chefs in the world. Carmy: Total prick. Fuckface. The bastard made me very, probably mentally ill. Dead inside. Cold. Never turns it off. Accomplishes more by 10am than most people do in a lifetime. Sydney: "looks over Carmy gravely" Carmy: I don't think he sleeps. I don't think he eats. I don't think he loves. He hates black pepper for some reason I will never understand and he is getting up. Luca: Carm. Carmy. Sydney: Carm. Carmen.

The thing is, each word Carmy uses to define that Chef Fields is, imho, just another adjective to describe who Carmy is as a Chef himself.

I hated that moment. I did not like hearing him describe that man because with each syllables that split through his mouth, I realised that the person Carmy was supposedly describing, that horrible, vicious, toxic, controlling and overly awful Chef that had no heart, no empathy, no source of humanity left in him and destroyed him was in fact Carmy himself.

I felt like he was describing himself and it broke my heart because truly, what he showed of himself in the Bear’s kitchen this season 3 was just that.

A cold, controlling, harsh and judgmental Chef.

Someone that would not hesitate to crumble the ounce of confidence left in you (poor Tina) if you don’t meet his standard. Someone who would not respect you if you don’t reach his fucking stupid non negotiables. Someone who would say snarky comments at you, sometimes full of disdain and haughty, implying that he is better than you.

That is because I am better than you. That is because I have more skills. That is because you’re not good enough, you’re not excellent enough, you are not like me.

Carmy said shouted that to everyone throughout season 3. He did not care and that regardless of the history between them, regardless of the obvious efforts of the past, of the growth of each person in that kicthen. He did not give a single fuck of the looks of panic, of the shaking voice of Tina, of the dead glare of Sydney, of the feelings of distress.

No, Carmy was cold. He was just cold. A total prick. A fuckface. Demanding. Hard. Full of himself despite his failures. Arrogant and condescending. Ready to crush you mentally if you don't meet his expectations. He did not care. He did not sleep. He did not love.

That was Carmy of season 3 and I hated it.

I despised hearing him describe that Chef, watching him stand up and run after that man to tell him fuck you when Carmy became exactly fucking THAT. It was so tragic and sad and SO fucking hypocritical at the same time and I fear that Carmy was slightly aware, deep down within him. He knows what that man says to him is true, maybe he even knows the monster he described to Syd and Luca was himself and maybe that is why he cries in that corridor because Chef Fields confirms that to him in a way.

I made you excellent. I made you. You became me. One of the best chefs in the world. We are the same so you are welcome.

Carmy was okay. He left excellent but at what price?

I also wanna point out something during Carmy's depreciating monologue regarding Chef Fields. Not only Sydney stared at him gravely all along, the words resonating maybe a bit too much but also Luca said something I found interesting.

He said "well, he used to be one of the best chefs in the world." and I could not dissociate this from Carmy himself, from him maybe not being one of the best chefs in the world either if he continues like that, if he doesn't step away from the Chef he is now, if he doesn't go back to a track where he wants to get better, where he listens, teach and love and eat and sleeps and is alive.

If you read all of this, heart on you <3 let me know your thoughts, future meta about ep 3 is coming soon hehe~

#the bear fx #the bear #the bear season 3 #the bear meta #sydcarmy #sydney adamu #carmy berzatto #chef luca #will poulter #ayo edebiri #jeremy allen white #the bear spoilers #shâm's the bear talk

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violetarks · 1 year ago

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spit on my grave, but kiss my mouth!

anime: chainsaw man

characters: hayakawa aki, kishibe, yoshida hirofumi, himeno

summary: they hate you, they can feel it in their bones, but at the first opportunity to kiss you? who wouldn't take that chance?

warnings: g/n! reader, they/them pronouns used, second person pov, some name-calling, somebody tries to lush to get y/n's number in yoshida's, kishibe is in his late 20s bc holy smokes he would outshine the whole cast if he is was younger in the anime no lie, kishibe is also a little flirty in this bc that's how he was when he was younger, smoking, drinking (y/n gets a little tipsy), reference to nsfw themes but its legit just the lines "you need an s/o bc you're so tense all the time" and "we didn't... did we?", y/n and kishibe go home together, also a bit suggestive in himeno's part

↣ hayakawa aki

if there was anything he hated more than anything, aki absolutely despised slackers. anyone who postponed their work til the last minute, and for the result to be the most sloppy piece of shit he has ever seen. which is why he didn't understand why makima would ever think of hiring someone like you as a devil hunter.

you stood there, your uniform messily put on — for god's sake, your tie was undone, just hanging around your neck! even power and denji dressed better than you. how could these devils do better than a devil hunter?

you sat atop makima's desk, getting the crumbs of your sandwich all over her furniture. aki visibly cringed. how could you be so careless?

it wasn't like you were unattractive, it's just the way you acted at work that made aki dislike you. and in front of your superior. truthfully, the only reason makima hired you was because of your amazing skill as a hunter without the use of contracts. if you weren't so useful...

when he first met you, aki would admit, he was intrigued. you were pretty, and makima had brought you in to interview you. you were splattered in devil's blood, and you looked serious.

yet the moment that you locked eyes with aki, your demeanour changed. you were suddenly so sloppy. he saw the way you held out your bloodied hand to shake his, how you lazily threw your dirty coat on the couch. he knew from then on, that your looks were a waste, perhaps.

"are you finished, y/n?" makima asked, walking into her office in her trench coat. aki was called there for a morning briefing, so imagine his disappointment when he saw you instead. you nodded your head, hopping off the desk and sweeping the mess you made into the nearby bin. "good. now, you two are teaming up for your next mission."

aki wanted to refuse, so badly. he watched as you tugged on your loose collar, shirt not even tucked in, and stood beside him. he listened to makima outline the upcoming mission, and also listened to how often you yawned or shifted in your spot. you seemed so unintetrsted.

aki's never been on a mission with you, but he's seen the mess you leave behind, more than he would've left. and he's seen you guiltlessly nap in the car while everyone else cleaned up your leftovers.

you were careless when you fought, as seen when you dodge under the attack of a devil and trip over debris on the floor. aki slides in with his unpowered sword, slicing the mutated arm away and shielding you from another attack.

"get up, dumbass!" he calls, looking over his shoulder to see you brushing off dust from your lap.

"relax, geez. i'm up, i'm up." you scoff back, picking up your weapon again. aki wanted to slap some sense into you. "i'm so tired, let's get this done."

the fight continued on until it was at what seemed to be the climax. you were both beaten down, the devil on the brink of giving up. but you gripped your weapon tighter, rushing towards the enemy with determination. you were growing tired of this fight, both mentally and physically. you were imagining yourself at home, in front of the tv with some food in your hands. anywhere but here.

"aki?" you call, looking around the scene. you couldn't find him, and it was worrying you. "aki!"

you were met with silence, making you scowl and continue on trying to defeat the devil. maybe by then, you'll be able to find him and bring him back to makima for help. god, you hated dead weight.

with a few attacks landing on the devil, aki finally stands from his position beneath debris. he had been hit into a wall, making the ceiling fall over him. when he had made himself visible. you glance at him, relieved.

"y/n..." he heaves, drawing his sword. he was bleeding from his shoulders and you could count the tears and cuts in his uniform. and he blamed you for being dirty...

before you can speak, the devil immediately charges towards him. you widen your eyes, racing after it. "aki!"

he breathes in heavily, trying to gather his focus. but his vision is just so blurry that he can't think properly. the blood he's lost has already made him hazy, all he can hear is the loud footsteps of the devil. his joints click and falter as he tries to take his normal fighting stance. he's weak and you can see it.

with all your might, you rush towards him. you couldn't let him die, not someone as strong and admirable as him. while you knew he disliked you (aki definitely wasn't the most subtle), you couldn't deny his worth as a hunter, and as a person. you looked up to him.

aki doesn't know what is happening until he sees you jump high in the air and thrust your weapon to pierce through the devil's skin, knocking it off course. as it skids to the side, you tumble to the ground, rolling on the ground and getting dirt and blood all over you. aki blinks, clueless.

"are you alright, aki?" you huff out, tired. he slowly hums in confirmation. you send him a smile, which makes him gulp. "that's a relief."

the devil turns back to him though, not stopping on its tracks to get to aki. by this time, you're in front of your co-worker, holding your weapon to prepare yourself. with a deep breath, you wait for the devil to come closer before dealing the final blow, ending the devil's life.

once the devil falls lifeless, you let out a loud whine, "agh, finally! ah, i'm so beat!" you fall to the floor, knees giving out beneath you. aki watches you stay on the ground, wiping the sweat off from your brow. with a click of his tongue, he falls to the ground as well. you turn to look at him, blinking. "ah, aki. that devil really fucked you up, huh?"

you laugh makes him even more weak. you move closer to him, taking his chin and turning his head to see his bruises. "we should get you back to the office. i'll patch you up before denji and power see you, alright? they'd piss themselves seein' you like this." you joke, patting his shoulder. your carefree attitude was so irritable...but he couldn't deny that your words made him feel lighter.

so when he pushes forward and presses his lips to yours, he knows why his heart pulses harder when he's around you. he likes you. his palm rests on your neck to hold you in place, making you lean your hands on both sides of his waist to balance yourself. aki squeezes his eyes shut, as if to keep himself from seeing your shocked face.

you were speechless, frozen. but once you settled in, you kissed him back. you tasted like blood — maybe that was his own since he cut his lip — but neither of you seemed to mind. his harsh hand against the back of your head suddenly goes soft, trailing down to brush your cheek.

he sighed against your lips, upturned brows. he felt like he needed this. he needed you.

aki was mysterious with his true feelings, but this was the first glimpse into them. you let out a small sigh as you pull away.

"you—..." you mumble out, covering your mouth as you sit up straight. his hand leaves your cheek, now gripping the debris beneath him. he felt so embarrased. "idiot aki. c'mon, let's get outta' here first."

you heave aki over your shoulder, his arm over while yours is wrapped around his middle. he was also speechless, blushing so red that he kept his head down so you couldn't see. his heart was beating faster at your touch. but to kiss you? he was truly crazy, wasn't he?

↣ kishibe

"can you smoke somewhere else?" you scoff, bringing your glass to your lips. the rest of the room was filled with slight chatter, the sound if cups being clinked together.

"you see any spare seats at this bar?" kishibe asks, putting his lighter away into his pocket. the bar allowed smoking, one of the only bars in the neighbourhood that still did. he watched you roll your eyes and finish your drink, asking the bartender for another. "you're so uptight, ya'know?"

"you're the most annoying person i've ever been paired up with." you groan, watching your glass get refilled. you take your glass once more and glare at kishibe. "those things kill you."

"you drink." he says, putting down his own cold alcoholic beverage. you click your tongue at him. "you act like you're so much better than me."

"you smoke and drink, you smug asshole." you grunt, feeling a little woozy from the past hour of non-stop drinking you and kishibe have been partaking in.

this was his idea, saying that you needed to wind down. you enjoyed a few drinks every now and then, but today had been particularly hard on you. makima was really ripping into after a devil got away, making you go after them again with your partner present this time. you felt embarrassed at your loss. as much as you were strong, kishibe hated how weak you were.

there was no denying that you were somewhat talented, so why weren't you getting stronger? kishibe was already tired from his own work, but when he was paired with you, his job got even harder. you were lazy with your work, leaving hints of your weaknesses everywhere you stepped. and you wondered why. kishibe couldn't handle how much if a rule-follower you were when your strength wasn't anything impressive. sometimes he'd with you'd abandon your work and finally leave all this stuff behind. such an attractive person like you shouldn't be burning their brain trying to work as a devil hunter.

"why don't you just drink and shut up?" kishibe huffs, keeping his cigarette between his fingers. he blew the smoke into the air above you, making you cover your nose and scowl at him. you hated smoking, all the reason why you disliked being partnered up with him. he wasn't kishibe without his smokes. "you're do tense all the time, you need a girlfriend or boyfriend or something. maybe you'll relax a lil'."

"and you're telling me to shut up." you groan, waving the smoke away. kishibe rolls his eyes leaning his elbows into the counter. "you know what, kishibe? i've seriously had enough of—of your attitude."

he watches you down glass after glass; it was kicking in, the alcohol. he was wondering how long it would take before you started slurring your words. it was subtle, but kishibe has never seen you like this, not yet at least. it would be a fun way to tease you tomorrow morning when you come in to work. you glare at him, blinking a few times. he waited impatiently for you to collect your words.

"ever since i met you, you've been a pain in my ass, always runnin' your pretty mouth and rolling your pretty eyes at me." you complain, continuing to drown yourself in the sweet drinks you were taking. kishibe sighs to himself, already knowing that you'll be too drunk to pay your own bill. he pulls out his wallet to start counting bills as you go on to 'insult' him. he'd have to be careful now, he was starting to feel the alcohol too. "if you weren't so strong, i'd kick your ass myself!"

"oh yeah?" he says, deciding on when to stop you from ordering. he calls down the bartender for a few more glasses for you and himself. "you're too weak to pull somethin' like that, sweetheart. can't even hold your own against a low rank devil. need someone strong to protect you, huh?"

"what? says who?" you say, voice raising a little. he hated it when you did that, it was so annoying. you were so childish for someone only a year younger than him. "i was doing perfectly fine without you! makima needed me to babysit you..."

"what are you even goin' on about?" he huffs, taking in some smoke, "do you even know what i'm saying? are you that drunk?"

while you were a little tipsy, you definitely weren't drunk. you were just slurring your words a little, but you were conscious. you weren't saying anything you wouldn't say sober. you knew what you were doing, and how you were acting.

"'course not, shithead. i'm not getting drunk in front of you." you tell him, gulping down another drink. he thinks that maybe your tolerance is moderately high. "i'm just sayin', you're never gonna' get married if you're like that. you're lucky i tolerate you, somebody has to."

he raises a brow at that, then taking one last huff of his cigarette before putting it out in the ash tray provided. "so you're saying i'll only get married if my romantic partner tolerates me?"

"duh." you scoff, tilting your head at him. was he getting drunk? it was also your heightened confidence that he found annoying.

"and you're the only one who tolerates me?" kishibe presses.

"yeah." you answer so quickly that you don't even think. once you realise what you've said, you put your glass down. your face was burning now, and you didn't know whether it was because of the drinks or him. he chuckles. "shut up..."

"mhm." he hums out, now leaning close to you. your shoulders nearly press against each other. he sees no sign of you moving away, but you begin to stare at him, unable to figure out which eye to look at. "you wanna' kiss me?"

you let out a small sigh, glancing down at his lips for a second. but you harden your stare in his eyes.

"or are you asking me to kiss you?" he offers. your eyes widen a little at that, and it seems he has his answer already. but you were so cute like this, he just had to tease you. "but i've been smoking. it'll taste like it, y'know?"

"just let me find out." you mumble, placing a hand on the side of his stool, against his thigh, "kiss me once?"

"well, shit." he chuckles out, now resting a hand on your cheek. you blink at him, feeling comfortable against his palm. "you've got a little crush on me."

you furrow your brows and mumble out, "s—so?"

"ain't that cute?" he says, brushing his thumb against your cheek, "you're not gonna' slap me if i kiss you, are ya'?"

"only if you keep on wasting time." you huff, fist against the bar top. you would never ask him something like this out of the blue. but the atmosphere around you both... it felt suitable. a small smile dawns on his lips at your eagerness.

"fine." he sighs out, leaning forward and finally connecting lips with yours. you hold your breath, not really expecting him to do it. your hand on the stool tightens its grip as he slides his hand from your cheek to the back of your neck, deepening the kiss. your lips were so soft, and warm. he can tell that you haven't kissed many people, but that doesn't matter. he never thought he'd be kissing you either.

he had been smoking for the past hour, so he did taste like smoke. while you hated the taste, now, it was sort of masked by the drinks you were both having. and you just couldn't get it out of your head that you were kissing kishibe. the man you kinda' hated.

the kiss didn't last as long as either of you would've wanted, but it's a public place and you only asked for a sample. when he pulls away, you open your eyes to see his smug smile that always makes you irritated. but this time, you're just plain embarrassed. he begins to laugh at you softly, making you click your tongue and push his face away.

"d—don't talk about it." you say, standing up and grabbing your coat. you pay for your drinks with a tip and avoid eye contact with your partner. he downs the rest of his drink and puts his own money down. you begin to walk to the exit before kishibe reaches out and holds your wrist. you glare back at him. "what?"

"can't let you go home all by yourself." he says, standing up and shrugging his trench coat on. you squint at him. "and you don't wanna' let lil' ol' me walk home alone either, do you? let's take a cab to yours."

"seriously?" you mumble under your breath, walking to the exit with him behind you. "fine... you can sleep on the couch."

"aw, such a pity."

↣ yoshida hirofumi

"yoshida, may i speak with you for a moment?" the teacher asks after the bell rings, making everyone in the class turn to their classmate. a playful 'ooh' rang around the room to tease him, making yoshida roll his eyes with a smile. the rest of the class begins to tidy their things up until the teacher speaks up again. "class president, please wait outside for a few minutes.

you look up from your desk, blinking at your teacher. but you nod your head. "yes, ma'am." you respond, fixing your uniform and taking your bag, heading outside with your friends.

yoshida can't help but roll his eyes at the way you walk out of the classroom, all preppy and gracious. you don't even look at him, as if he was scum compared to you. the two of you weren't friends and that was clear enough. you were the class president and needed to keep everyone in order. the rest of the class had liked you and you were friends with other classes too. but the only one who didn't like you was yoshida hirofumi.

you told him that the school didn't allow all those piercings and that the standard were the studs. but he came back the next day with another piercing, showing it off with a diamond earring that he wore once for the purpose of pissing you off. you reprimanded him, disliking his laidback attitude and how he didn't take school seriously. what a waste of a student. you knew plenty of people who would do way better in his position. someone like you knew this and hated that he didn't.

yoshida hated how uptight you were and how you were such a stickler for the rules. he knows that he's not a good student, but why were you always on his ass for it? there were other people in the class — hell, there were tons of other people in the school that you could've been paying attention to, but you chose him. he hated it so much.

"to cut it short, yoshida, your grades have been dropping severely." the teacher had said, making the student snap back into reality. he stands up straight again, nodding his head. "i've decided to allocate you a tutor for all of your classes. you and—"

"don't say l/n."

"... l/n will be meeting on your own terms to study. they're an excellent student and have tutored many of your classmates, yoshida, there is no need to worry." the teacher continued, handing him a stack of papers. he holds them, heaving them under his arms. "practice exams, practice essay, practice tests. you will go through all of these with l/n."

"seriously?" yoshida huffs out, rubbing the back of his neck, "for how long?"

"until your grades are better." the teacher explains, sitting down to grade their quiz from today, "i understand that the two of you aren't close, but make-do for now. you need to rely on them."

"i understand." he sighs, taking the work and leaving the classroom. he sees you standing next to the door, bag on your shoulder as you read a book. he wants to cringe at the cliché scene. "hey. you're tutoring me."

"i know." you respond, tucking your book into your bag and starting on your way, "we're heading to the city library."

"wait, what? you knew?" he says, falling into step beside you. you nod your head. he knits his brows at you as you exit the school. "great. now i gotta' spend months with you."

"just get your grades up and you're fine." you respond, looking to the sky for some patience. he was already getting annoying. "trust me, even a delinquent like you can pass the next exam."

"you talk a lotta' shit for a goody-two-shoes." he huffs, swinging his bag recklessly around. the two of you board a train towards the city and you take the papers from yoshida, flicking through them and making notes of what to teach him. he watches you from his spot beside you. "even your handwriting is blinding. why is it so... neat?"

"you mean readable?" you scoff, looking at him with an aggravated expression. why did he talk so much? "i'm doing this for you."

"why did you even agree to this if we don't like each other?" he asks you, watching the roof of the strangely empty train. you look back to the work, sorting them into sections. "you have a secret crush on me or something?"

"what? no, idiot." you scoff, shaking your head, "i just don't want you to fall behind. it'd be a shame for everyone else to graduate without you." he looks back to you, a surprised look on his face. but you look away, outside. "don't look too much into it, yoshida. just trying to keep the class average up."

"yeah, whatever..." he mumbles, going back to hating you. any sliver of you being genuinely nice was now gone. he just listened to the way the train rolled across the tracks. he listened to you scribble down your notes.

he had watched countless people confess to you. just yesterday, a girl handed you a bouquet of flowers — your favourite ones, apparently — and confessed to you that she had feeling for you for a year. but you rejected her, apologising and saying that you did not return her feelings. it felt somewhat cold, yoshida was watching from around the corner. luckily you didn't notice him, you probably would've told him off for not doing his class duties.

he never understood the appeal to you. why did so many people want you?

a few minutes kater, you were in the library, setting up your things in a private study area. you gave him some work to try out and pulled out your own things to do. he sighs, taking out his pencil case to write on the paper, "put on some music or something."

"this is a library, yoshida." you retort, rolling your eyes, "just do your work and show me when you're done."

"jesus, i can't believe people actually like you." he groans, leaning back in his chair. you blink at his insult. "i don't understand why everyone flocks around you and throw themselves in your direction."

"i'm the class president, people come to me for advice all the time. maybe if you showed up to class more than one a week you'd notice." you huff out, glaring at him, "people like me because i'm good help."

"singing your own praises?" he snickers, flipping through the booklet. he hated how confident you were in yourself when he really saw you as overbearing. even the way you sat there, writing with your perfect handwriting. "i can't deal with you, president."

"i couldn't tell." you sigh, standing up. he watches your movements. "i'm going to grab you a book go borrow for the next week. it has all you need to know on the book we studied this semester. i don't have enough time to explain everything to you before the exams since it's in a few months. but that book will help."

"yay..." he mumbles out, moving onto the next set of questions. he waited for you to come back with your stupid book, but enough time had passed that it was suspicious. he even finished the booklet that you gave him, and that took him a while. he looks around the library, seeing few people walking about. "where are they go? don't tell me they abandoned me here..."

he stands up, positive your stuff would stay safe, and begins to look through the aisles. he doesn't see you yet, and he's getting pissed out. you made him come here, and you just ditched? that's so 'un-presidently' of you.

but he hears your voice in the next aisle, sounding pissed off. like always, when you spoke to him.

"thank you for showing me where the book is, but i should get going." you say, yoshida standing at the other end of the aisle, out of your sight. he could see the boom you were holding and your stupid hair, but you were blocked off by someone else. "please leave me alone."

"aw, what? i help you find your book and this is the thank i get?" the taller person says, hand against the bookshelf to keep you from walking off. you roll your eyes at them. "c'mon, just your number, that's all i ask for."

"it's your job to help people in the library find their books. you work here." you explain, tucking the book under your arm, "i don't owe you anything other than a 'thank you'."

"well i take my 'thank you's in dates." they respond. yoshida sighs, clenching his fists and walking towards the both of you. "what's somebody gotta' do to land one with you—"

"leave 'em alone, asshole." yoshida scoffs, tugging the worker back and standing in between the both of you. you widen your eyes at him before looking away, a bit ashamed to need his help. but yoshida is glaring at the librarian. "they're not interested."

"shit man, i'm sorry, i didn't know they—"

"yeah whatever. get outta here." yoshida scoffs, rolling his eyes. the worker only looks his up and down before walking off, muttering under their breath. once they're gone, yoshida looms to you. "you good?"

"yeah..." you mumble out, rubbing your forehead, "people like that give me a headache.

"mhm." he huns out, seeing how you lean against the bookcase. you stared down st the analytical text in your hands. you were so embarrassed that he had to come in and save you. some like him, protecting you...

you look back up and see his smug face, and you just know that he's aware of how you're feeling.

"who would've guessed it? i had to come to the class president's aid." yoshida chimes, leaning a hand against the bolted down bookshelf. you scowl at him, closing your eyes. "i guess you owe me one now, huh?"

"and once again, you're an ass..." you retort. your little scrunched up face makes yoshida smile. genuinely. he scans your appearance before tilting his head at you.

"what is it that makes people fawn over you so much?" he questions, looking confused. you open your eyes to see him standing closer. "i mean, sure, you're cute, but that's about it, no? your stubbornness ruins it all. as soon as you open your mouth, i wanna burst my ear drums."

"whatever, yoshida. i don't care what you have to say." you mumble back at him.

"see? so mean." he chuckles, take another step closer. you notice but don't say anything, to which he notices as well. out of all the people who have liked you, he's surely standing the closest. you haven't pushed him away, which is strange. you'd usually be out in a second. but you stand your ground. he smiles at you. "how could anyone find that attractive?"

you look to the side for a split second, only for yoshida to come unbearably closer. you can feel his breath on your cheek and his shoulder is against yours. his other hand stays in his pocket while the other braces himself. you hold your own breath.

"maybe people only like your pretty face." he says, not missing a beat as his hand slides down to hold the shelf beside your torso. his wrist slightly grazes your body. you shiver for a second, standing up straighter. yoshida pays attention. "you think so, y/n?"

"no, i—i don't." you stammer. yoshida is surprised when he feels you grasp his shirt, making him lean back jut enough to see your expression. you could barely hold your glare. so cute. "i'm... i'm a good person, so that's why—"

"that's the first thing people notice when they look at you. your looks." he claims, making your face burn hot. but yoshida just smiles at you. "you sayin' i'm wrong?"

you scoff at him, "why are you so close anyway...?" he raises his brows at you, eyes flicking to your lips for more than a second. you realise what he's looking at before you speak again. "yoshida...?"

"you don't seem to mind..." he trails off, "you can always push me away if i get too close..."

you don't say anything as he gets closer and closer until suddenly, he's kissing you. yoshida's hand stays at the shelf to hold himself up, but his other one gently holds your hand against his chest. you're kissing back before you can even think, your other hand still holding onto the book.

he tastes a bit savoury, probably because of the hot lunch he had before. but the drink he had on the table where you two were studying, is sweet. the mixture entices you as you as you are the one to deepen the kiss, pushing forward and catching yoshida by surprise.

you let out a small squeak; it was obvious you weren't experienced. with how seriously you took school, how could you be? yoshida didn't have his fair share of partners either but, he was so gentle with you.

when he pulls away, he opens his eyes to see your dazed look towards him. you gulp once you regain your sense of thought, then leaning back.

"i'm sorry, i—"

"i guess you're not a terrible kisser." he interrupts you, standing up straight and keeping his hands to himself. you feel somewhat relieved, but you nudge yoshida in the stomach due to embarrassment. "hey, stop. maybe that's why people like you."

"i don't go around kissing everyone, shit for brains." you claim, shoving the book into his chest. he stands back with an 'oof', watching you walk out of the aisle.

"so it's just me?" he chuckles, jogging to catch up with you. you glare at him. "how lucky."

↣ himeno

himeno didn't understand why aki spoke so highly of you. her friend, whose opinion was usually right, explained that you were a tremendous hunter and that you were highly respected. so why are you in her apartment, in your shirt and underwear, and eating out of her fridge?

"morning." you say, seeing the groggy himeno coming out of her room. she blinks cluelessly at you. "you hungry? i made breakfast."

"the hell are you doing here?" she grunts, walking closer to you in a hoodie and sweatpants. you look back at her, sorting the breakfast into two bowls. "and why are you using my food?"

"huh? you don't remember? you invited me over last night after drinks." you explain, taking out two spoons and shoving one into the food before pushing the bowl to himeno. "you're wearing my sweater, by the way."

"i was wonder when i bought this." she murmurs to herself. but she then shakes her head, sitting down at the counter and thinking to herself why would she ever invite the person she loathed the most to stay at hers? "we didn't... did we?"

"no, himeno. you were black out drunk, y'know." you say in an obvious tone. she clicks her tongue and eats her food. you begin to eat as well. "did you take the medicine and drink the water i left on your bedside table?"

why were you acting so nice? she gripped her spoon tighter, stopping her movements as she swallows her food. "yes. you didn't have to do that." she thinks she would've preferred if you didn't. now she feels obligated to return the favour.

"it's nothing. i didn't want you to wake up so hungover again." you retort, looking to the ceiling.

she scans you and wonders how you could be so indecent in front of her when you were 'well-respected'. your underwear was showing, you weren't wearing any pants, your shirt was crinkled and loose hanging, your hair was a mess and you just look tired overall. this was not the pristine presentation he was used to.

you catch her staring. "sorry, do you want me to put on my pants? i couldn't find em around here." you admit, looking at the messy floor. himeno feels a little embarrassed at the mess but doesn't keep her eyes off you.

"no, it's fine." she retorts, feeling her eye patch before running her fingers through her hair, "don't you have a mission or something?"

you think for a second before putting down the bowl. "yeah, i think. later, makima wants me to check something out with her." you tell her, watching her roll her eyes, "what's wrong?"

"you in love with her too?" she scoffs.

"no?" you say, tilting your head, "she's my boss."

"oh." you'd be the first she'd hear doesn't like her. she sits up straight on her stool. "really?"

"yeah, really." you say as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, making himeno stop. you continue to eat your food. "i don't date superiors."

"right..." she mumbles back, confused. but you accidentally drop your spoon on the floor, making you curse quietly. she's never heard you swear, and she stares at you.

you lick your thumb, a little bit of sauce on it, before you turn to her with wide eyes. "ah, sorry, himeno. paper towels?"

she points to the cupboard and finishes her food, watching you clean up your mess. you're not really clumsy, she knows, so seeing you drop something was strange. you were usually moving so perfectly...

"you always like this?" she hums out, chin in her hand.

you put the towels in the bin and take your empty bowls (hers as well) and clean them. "i'm sorry, i live alone. so no one really sees me mess up." you admit.

himeno hates your voice. you don't speak much, but when you do, she's rolling her eyes. what you have to say is usually so inspiring to the other hunters, but she finds them cheesy. kobeni was brought to happy tears by what you said to her before a mission, which made himeno stop everyone and wait for kobeni to stop crying.

you're so high and mighty. everyone loves you and you try to be so mysterious. she never understood why everyone liked you, why everyone tolerated you when you don't do anything. maybe you're strong, stronger than aki and kishibe, but you were just praised so much that she hated you.

but seeing you now, all over the dishes and struggling to clean the things you used, it makes you feel more human to her. she watches you from the counter, hearing you curse to yourself as the dishwashing soap falls from your hand and into the soapy water. you turn to her to see if she saw. she did. you embarrassed yourself, and you sheepishly look away. she smiles. and stops as soon as she realises she is.

you were like some high school kid watching themselves around their crush. the way you glanced at her told her all she needed to know.

"i'm gonna go and change." she says, standing up from her stool and moving to her bedroom. she doesn't wait for your reply, but she heard a faint 'okay' from her room.

she didn't understand the change. admittedly, last night was the only time she's seen you outside of work hours, where no devils were there to stop you from being just you. you were sitting quietly, listening to everyone speak. you didn't know what to say.

after you finish the dishes, you try to clean up around the living room and kitchen. there were blankets and pillows all on the floor, maybe she was having a party or something. but you pick them up, fold them, put them in their place. and you finally find your pants, sliding them on happily.

you look for your belt under the couch when you hear someone clear their throat. looking up, you see himeno standing in her work attire with her arms crossed.

"hey, i'm looking for something, sorry." you say, standing up. she hands you your hoodie, which you plan on putting over your work shirt and tie. you just needed to find your belt and you would be set. "i'll be ready soon—oof!"

you fall onto the couch, on your back, as himeno moves forward and clambers over you. she gives you a pointed look as you stare up at her, feeling your face heating up. you gulp, one hand bracing the cushion of the couch, and the other hanging off the side. she's loosely straddling one of your thighs, hovering above you as her hand still on the sides of your head.

"h—himeno—"

"do you have a crush on me?" she interrupts you, tilting her head.

"what? that would be unprofessional, i—i couldn't..." you begin, losing your voice as you feel how close she is to you. your heart speeds up. "i'm sorry..."

"i knew it..." she huffs, leaning to the side a little. she scans your face, how your eyes stay on her. "you're terrible at hiding it."

"i'm sorry." you say, gulping. she was leaning closer, and you were getting nervous. "please don't hate me for it. we're partners."

"i bet you wish we were more." she jokes, gently grasping your chin so you look her dead in the eyes. you look like a poor deer in headlights. "i already hate you. everyone talks about how cool and how strong you are. and you suck it all in, go along with it. makes you feel better, doesn't it?"

"what?" you whisper out, blinking innocently.

"i hate people like you." she says, enjoying how you helplessly stared at her. you looked so hopeless — hopelessly in love with her. without a word more, she leans down and softly connects her lips with yours.

you hold your breath, keeping still as she kisses you. it was so out of the blue — didn't she say she hated you? you carefully move your free hand to the back of her neck, squeezing your eyes shut and missing her back eagerly.

her hand drops from your chin, dragging down to stop at your waist, holding you from there. your breathing hitches, and you pull away slightly to gasp. she catches your lips again, setting herself down to straddle you properly. she continues to kiss you as you sit up slightly, elbows bent to hold your weight.

you felt hot in the face, you knew you were embarrassing yourself by being such a klutz. but as her lips leave yours, you almost chase. himeno was an enchantress. you loved her smell, the sound of her voice, the way she walked. and here she was, saying how much she hated you.

"i—i thought you didn't like me." you huff out, sitting up straight to be face to face with himeno. your lidded eyes and dazed expression made her hold her breath for a moment. but, as if you've gathered your confidence, you begin to lean in again. "do... you not wan—"

"don't you have to meet up with makima?" she says, placing a hand on your chest and shoving you back to lay down again with a huff. she hops off your, moving to grab her shoes. "c'mon, before you're late and your amazing reputation is ruined."

you take a moment to gather yourself. your hair was even more messed up, and you stared at the roof with a heavy heart. it was beating fast, making you take in a deep breath and sit up, fixing your outfit and hair. you look behind you, seeing your belt underneath the pillow. after standing up and putting it on, you see himeno waiting for you.

she was leaning against the wall, watching you scramble to put your shoes on. she herself was wondering why she had kissed you too. you were always good-looking, but the way you acted pissed her off. did your prettiness really cloud her judgement.

she looks down to you sitting on the floor, struggling to tie your shoelaces. she chuckles.

no, she just met the real you today.

#hayakawa aki #hayakawa aki x reader #aki #aki x reader #kishibe #kishibe x reader #yoshida hirofumi #yoshida hirofumi x reader #yoshida #yoshida x reader #himeno #himeno x reader #chainsaw man #chainsaw man x reader #csm #csm x reader

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