#i think i basically said everything there is to say about this guy On the shelmet post but apparently as everyone Told me on that post

[pellucid-constellations]

I'd Answer

You've been gone. Azriel's been broken. Something has to change, and Azriel would do anything.

Part 2 of If You Cared to Ask

“This is for you,” Mor huffed, plopping down a small bouquet of roses onto the growing garden that seemed to have sprouted on the table. “What is that, number twelve?” 

“I don’t know, I don’t count them,” you brushed off, your gaze falling on the gifts for a fleeting moment.

Mor hummed. “Are they doing anything for you?” 

“Not particularly.” 

Your friend shuffled into the small sitting room and gracefully landed in the chair beside yours, her eyes piercing a hole in the side of your head when you refused to look up. She sighed, and then sighed again, making a show of slotting her chin in her palm and looking forlorn. 

The third sigh was your breaking point. 

You placed your book on the table and turned to Mor with your brows raised. “Yes?” 

“Oh, nothing,” she airily replied. “I was just wondering when you were going to give this up. You don’t have to forgive the guy, but at least put me out of my misery and let me tell him where you’re staying. I’m basically a delivery service at this point. He says sorry again, by the way.” 

“Oh, well in that case—” 

“More than just sorry, but I can’t remember everything he said. It was all rambly and his face was all gaunt.” Mor pressed her fingers up to cover her eyes. “I’m not even sure if he’s eating. Rhys had to stop sending him out because he almost fell out of the sky.”

“Is this supposed to make me feel bad?”

You hoped your ruse was believable because hearing that Azriel was doing so poorly did make you feel bad. Your heart lept up to your throat at the prospect of your mate falling from the sky from exhaustion. But he had had so many opportunities to make this right and you weren’t about to give up your anger so easily. 

Mor offered a sad expression that looked authentic this time. “Y/n, he loves you. He’s an idiot and the whole lot of them are mindless fools, but Azriel has never loved anything the way he loves you.” 

“Yeah, I’m sure,” you snorted. “And he shows that love by forgetting me and then arguing when I’m clearly upset over it?” 

“I know. He told me how much of an ass he’s been. But, I promise you, I’ve known Azriel for a long time. He was just—just handling everything with Rhys poorly. He felt so so guilty when Rhys got trapped. You know that.” 

You bit the inside of your cheek and avoided Mor’s gaze. “I know.” 

The lack of vitriol in your tone had Mor perking up. “And you remember how hard he tried to get him back—how broken he was when Rhys sent out his last message. Az feels responsible for everything when it comes to his family.”

You didn’t need the reminder. The tortured way he carried himself over the past 50 years was evidence enough of the truth behind Mor’s words. And you had been there to soothe that pain, to help run the court that Rhys left behind. 

When silence persisted, Mor craned her neck to catch your gaze. “I’m not saying what he did was right, but you know he’s been in overdrive since Rhys returned. He goes off on those missions when Rhys calls, but… y/n, he only leaves without notice when his informants…” 

Mor trailed off. 

Your gaze finally flickered up. “When?” 

Mor bit her lip and winced. “He told me not to tell you this part. He said he didn’t want you to think he was making excuses.” 

“Tell me anyways.” 

“Fine. But you can’t rat me out.” Mor sighed and leaned back in the chair, still facing you. “He does go on every mission Rhys proposes, and that’s… stupid, but he tells you about those ones, I think. When he just up and leaves, it’s because—y/n, it’s because they're about you. You know there’s a slew of people that want you dead for your involvement up in Illyria. He has a team of informants with the sole purpose of listening for you name.

“He goes on Rhys’s missions because he doesn’t want his family separated again, but sometimes, it’s because he just wants to protect his mate.” 

A stone dropped past your ribs and into your stomach. “But, he never told me—” 

“You know these overgrown bats think that suffering in silence is an honorable thing to do,” Mor rolled her eyes. “They overwork themselves fighting the good fight or whatever and seem to forget that the rest of the world is still out there, facing the consequences of their actions. And… I think he just wanted you to feel safe. I think he’s been scared.” 

Something sickly climbed its way up your consciousness. You looked down at your hands as they rested in your lap. 

You hadn’t seen Azriel in six days, and each day had more anger coursing through you, building up a wall that you thought impenetrable. Because you were so angry; Azriel had disappointed you time and time again, left you feeling abandoned and alone, and then he got defensive about it as if you were the one at fault. 

Part of you always knew it was a defense of some sort, but you had thought it a defense of something nefarious. You had tossed around the idea of infidelity a few times, and that rivaled the thought of him simply falling out of love with you. 

But it was this. 

It was him hiding how hard he’d been trying to protect you—however idiotic his tactics may have been. 

“You can tell him where I am,” you murmured clenching your fingers into your palm. “And leave the door unlocked, I guess.” 

Mor had left the small apartment on the outskirts of Velaris before you finished your sentence. 

It took approximately 7 minutes for a tentative knock to sound at your door. 

Mor had left it unlocked, but there was still a knock. 

You took a glance at the pile of flowers on the table before heading to the front door. The old floorboards creaked under your feet, a reminder of the rundown apartment you had sought out after you left. It was a frantic process, searching for a place to stay; you hadn’t cared much for luxury or comfort.  

Opening the door was jarring. Azriel’s wings were half-raised as if he’d just flown down and then forgot how to control them. His face was pallid with dark smudges beneath his eyes. His hair was windswept, expected from the flight, but it looked tugged at and disheveled beyond that. 

“Hi.” 

Maybe you’d been looking him over too long because Azriel’s voice cracked at the single word. He sounded unsure, verging on afraid, and all you had done was pass over his figure with your eyes. 

You tightened your grip on the door handle. “Um, hi.” Your tone was harsher than you meant it to be. 

Azriel flinched. “I’m sorry, Mor said…” 

“No, I—Come in.” 

You stepped back and pushed the door open to accommodate his hesitant steps into your rental. Azriel stood in the middle of the space and wrung his hands as you shuffled behind him, a slight tremor showing in his fingers. You leaned back against the door with your own hands pressed at the small of your back. You watched Azriel’s lingering gaze trail over the flowers in the corner of the room. 

“You didn’t like them?” he meekly asked. 

Something inside of you hurt. 

“They were okay,” you answered. “But I didn’t want flowers.” 

Azriel nodded and his lashes fluttered shut. His hands twitched. 

“I’m sorry—for the flowers, I mean. They were a pathetic reason to send Mor to you. You wanted to be left alone.” 

“I did not want to be left alone, Azriel.” You kicked away from the door, bringing your arms across your chest for some form of protection. “I wanted you. I wanted you to care about me.”

“I do,” Azriel stressed. He took a step forward and the wood beneath his boot creaked. “I do, y/n.  I care about you more than anything—I love you.” 

“Then why couldn’t you show me? Why did it take me leaving, me getting hurt, for you to finally listen to me and see how much I’ve needed you?” 

Your chest was heaving, each word from your lips a choked gasp. Azriel took all of it and absorbed your full meaning, seeming to wince at every insinuation that he didn’t love you. His jaw quivered and he opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. 

“Why did you stop talking to me?” you asked, a broken rendition of your anger. “Why—Mor told me… She told me things. Things that make sense. But why does it feel like I don’t matter to you?” 

“My love,” Azriel stressed. Yearned. He rushed forward, abandoning all reservations and gathering you into his arms as tears began making headway down your cheeks. “I’m so sorry, baby. I can’t—I’m so so sorry.” His words were almost lost against your temple as he held you, each apology a whisper of a kiss against your skin. 

“You weren’t there and Devlon—he—” 

“I know, angel, I know and I’m so sorry. Had I known… Had I listened.” He pulled you back from his chest, crouching down to meet your eye and wiping tears from your cheeks. “All I’ve ever wanted to do was keep you safe. I thought I was doing that. I don’t know what Mor told you—” 

“She told me everything. She told me you’ve been following leads about me and taking on too much. She told me you’re scared.” 

Azriel breathed and it sounded anguished. “I am terrified. We lost Rhysand and now you are in the throes of a society that almost killed me. I—I wake up every morning and everything is good and I am so afraid to lose that. I thought I was protecting you, protecting us. But I almost lost you and—” 

You let out a breathy cry. “You could never lose me, Azriel.” 

He pressed his forehead to yours, the wetness of his cheeks now apparent. Azriel’s hands were firm on either side of your head and his fingers laced up into your hair. 

Gods, you missed him. 

You missed him and everything hurt. 

“I’ll do better. I’ll be better. Just please—please, don’t leave again. Please come home. Let me fix this.”

The want was overwhelming. It would be so easy to say yes, but it would be just as easy for nothing to change. 

“You can’t do that again, Azriel,” you stressed, shaking your head and causing your mate to draw back. Only a breath was left between you. “You have to tell me what’s going on. You can’t—you can’t leave me in the dark. You can’t make me feel like that.”

Azriel’s head shook in desperation. “I won’t. I promise I won’t.” 

“I need to know I can rely on you—trust you.” 

“You can, angel.” 

“I need to know that you love me.” 

A pained sound escaped Azriel’s throat. He licked his lips and reaffirmed his hold on your face, locking his eyes with yours in a beseeching gaze. 

“I love you more than life itself, angel. I couldn’t breathe when you were gone. I can’t believe I made you think that I don’t. You are my life. Let me show you. Please, let me show you.”

You tracked your eyes between both of his. “Okay, Azriel.” 

“I’m going to keep you safe.”

“I am safe.” 

“I love you.” 

"I know you do, Az. I know."

[engie-ivy]

(Trying something new. Love to hear if you like🙂)

1021 words

High School Conversations

Edgar Bones

“So, how about it, Lupin?”

“... Come again?”

“You. Me. Drinks. It ain't rocket science.”

“No, I actually understand rocket science. You're not making any sense.”

“I want to take you on a date, Lupin.”

“But…why?”

“Why not?”

“For starters, I'm a loner who likes to spend his free time reading a book, while you're a star athlete who's almost the most popular guy at school.”

“Almost?”

“Well, there's-”

“Okay, okay, I know. Don't mention him.”

“So, it's ridiculous for you to want to go on a date with me.”

“It's ridiculous for someone like you to say no to someone like me.”

“‘Someone like me’ might not want to date someone he has so little in common with.”

“Don't be difficult, Loopy.”

"Calling me that won't increase your chances.”

“You should be grateful I'm even willing to spend my time on you.”

“You know what, Bones? Here's my answer: Fuck. You.”

Marlene McKinnon

“Hi there, Loopy Lupin.”

“Good god, what's going on today?”

“Why, that's not a very kind greeting.”

“Why are you talking to me, McKinnon?”

“I heard Edgar Bones asked you out.”

“And I said no, so don't worry, he's all yours.”

"The fact that you'd think I'd be interested in Bones is even more insulting than that rude greeting of yours.”

“I just don't understand what's going on today. First the school's jock, now the head cheerleader. Honestly, is it Talk to a Geek Day or something?”

“No, I think that's in March.”

“What is it, McKinnon?”

“I just want to ask you some questions.”

“I'm really not in the mood for-”

“Question Number One. Who is the most popular guy in school?”

“Sirius Black, of course. With his bad boy-image and that leather jacket of his, but his still perfect grades, that effortless charisma that lets him get away with anything, his guitar playing and that voice, his impossibly attractive smile, and that always-perfect-hair…”

“...”

“Or, ehm, at least that's what all those girls pining after him would say.”

“Of course. Your cheeks have turned a bit red there, Loopy.”

“So is your next question going to be who the most popular girl in school is? If you're just fishing for compliments you could've just said so.”

“Cute how you think I'd need your confirmation. But no, my next question is who is the second-most popular guy in school.”

“Edgar Bones.”

“What, no raving monologue for Bones?”

“Shut it, McKinnon.”

“And how would you describe the relationship between Black and Bones?”

“What is this, Twenty Questions?”

“I hope I won't need twenty, no. Answer this one please.”

“A rivalry. Or, well, a one-sided rivalry, that is. I don't think Black ever wastes much of his time on Bones, but Bones is obsessed with outdoing Black.”

“Like how?”

“Well, when Black wants a motorcycle, Bones wants a motorcycle, when Black gets his ears pierced, Bones gets his ears pierced, when Black starts a band, Bones starts a band. Basically, Bones wants everything Black wants.”

“Exactly. Now, how would a clever boy such as yourself combine this information with Bones asking you out?”

“... I don't know.”

“Oh, I think you do, Loopy. I think you do.”

“No, because the logical inference of the information you're presenting would be that Black wants… me, and there's no logic to be found in that.”

“Black fancies you, Lupin.”

“No. Just… No.”

“Yes. Just yes.”

“McKinnon, maybe for a head cheerleader the most popular guy in school fancying you is within the realm of possibility, but not for us geeky bookworms.”

“Ask Black out, then you'll see.”

“Is this a prank?”

“I'm wounded, Loopy. You think me so cruel?”

“The head cheerleader playing a prank on me is more likely than the high school heartthrob fancying me.”

“Well, since you're so obsessed with the head cheerleader-thing, let me put it this way.

Hey, Hey, Hear Me Cheer,

Hey, Hey, Hear Me Shout,

Lupin Should Ask Black Out!”

“Oh, for god sakes, please stop!”

“Lupin Might Be Geeky As Hell,

Black Just Thinks He's Swell!”

“Please get off the table!”

“Hey, Hey, Lupin Boy,

I've Got News You Might Enjoy!”

“I'll do it, okay? Just stop! Stop, and I'll ask him out.”

“Thank you.”

“You're a nightmare. I don't know why Dorcas likes you so much.”

“Wait, what?”

Sirius Black

“Oh, hello, Lupin.”

“Ehm, hi. So, ehm, a little birdie told me…”

“Mmm, was it a cheering birdie named Marlene?”

“Yup. Look, I know that a guy like me should drop to his knees and praise the lord if a guy like you would even breathe in his direction…”

“What are you talking about?”

“That you're probably expecting me to be grateful for any bit of attention you're willing to pay me, but…”

“Wait, what? Lupin, if anything, you are out of my league.”

“Excuse me?”

“Gods, you're so smart, and you read so many books, while I hardly ever read, and you have such an amazing dry sense of humour, with all those sharp, sarcastic remarks, you make my pranks seem juvenile, and I wear leather jackets and band tees, sure, but you can just wear cardigans and sweater vests and still look so unique and cool, and you have this calming presence over you, like when you're reading and you're chewing your lip in that way that you do…”

“You… you've noticed me.”

“Of course I have. You think I would fancy you without knowing anything about you?”

“Well, yeah. I thought… I didn't think… I don't know, I thought maybe you were bored or something?”

“This is not about me being bored, or about me wanting to shock people, or about me trying to stir the pot, or anything about me really. This is about you. You as a person.”

“You actually…”

“Yeah, I actually.”

“I… I promised that I would… No, screw that. I want to ask you out.”

“I think it's clear by now I would very much be okay with that.”

“Good god, I can't believe these words are coming out of my mouth, but Sirius Black, will you go out with me?”

“I'd love to, Remus Lupin.”

[itneverendshere]

invisible string - r.c series (three) (+18)

pairing: pogue!rafe x kook!sweetheart!reader warnings: angst; smut; fluff. part one; part two

Rafe rarely ever fought with you. 

Sure, he’d thrown his weight around with just about everyone else, but with you?

He’d dropped the whole tough-guy bullshit months ago. Hell, he’d even cried in front of you, ugly sobbing and all. He didn’t let himself be that vulnerable with anyone else, but today... today he felt like his skin was too tight and he was two seconds away from losing it.

He didn’t understand why you were pushing so hard. You kept going, saying the same things over and over, and he was trying so damn hard to stay calm, but every word you said just felt like gasoline on a fire.

He wasn’t even mad at you, not really.

He was mad at everything else—at himself, at how nothing ever seemed to go right, at how he always felt one wrong move away from everything falling apart. And now you wanted to talk about it again, like you didn’t see how close he was to just snapping.

It felt like you didn’t get it. No matter how many times you two talked about it, you still thought there was some perfect world where you could just be together out in the open, like it was no big deal.

But it was a big deal. A huge fucking deal.

He leaned against the wall of the shed, arms crossed, just watching you. You looked so damn hopeful like he was really about to show up to your graduation party and stand next to you like some lost puppy. You had this big party planned at your place. Parents, family, all your Kook friends. The whole scene. And you wanted him there. Like your parents weren’t gonna lose their minds if they saw him anywhere near you.

He could practically see your dad’s face already, that look of disappointment or disgust or whatever the hell he’d call it.

Rafe wasn’t dumb. He knew his place around here.

And sure, you knew the basics too: you were heading off to college soon, your life was on this perfect, shiny path, and his...well, his was a whole mess in comparison. But it was like you couldn’t see the bigger picture. Or maybe you just didn’t want to.

You acted like everything between you two would stay the same, like you could just waltz into your new life with him still in it, like he could just follow you there. But Rafe knew better. You were leaving in four months, and that thought sat heavy in his chest every time he was around you now.

And here you were talking about the party again, like his presence there wouldn’t blow up everything.

He wanted to be there for you, more than anything, but not like that. Not surrounded by your perfect little world while he felt like an outsider, waiting for someone to call him out. It was like you didn’t even see the bomb that was about to go off if he stepped foot into your life like that.

“Are you listening to me?”

He ran a hand down his face, trying to hold onto whatever thread of control he had left. “I am listenin',” he muttered, though his voice came out harder than he meant.

“No, you’re not,” you said, a little firmer this time. "You’re shutting down again, like you always do when I bring this up."

He didn’t want to fight. He didn’t want this to turn into some big blow-up. But damn, why couldn’t you just drop it for once? Why did you always have to dig, always push when he was hanging by a thread?

“Are coming tonight or not?” you asked for the millionth time, like it was no big deal. Just a party. “It’s nothing crazy.”

He let out a short laugh, not even bothering to hide the sarcasm. Yeah, right. “Like your dad’s not gonna lose his shit the second he sees me?”

“Rafe—” you started, but he already knew where this was going. Same conversation, different day.

You were standin’ there, looking at him with those big, hopeful eyes and it killed him. You were always calm, always trying to make sense of shit when sometimes there just wasn’t any sense to be made.

And right now, he didn’t have the patience for it.

He cut you off. “You really think it’s that easy? You think I can just show up, grab a drink, and blend in with your crowd like we’re in some damn movie? Tell everyone how ‘m your homeless boyfriend?”

You looked frustrated like you couldn’t wrap your head around why this was such a big deal. He wished you could see it from his side, but how could you? You weren’t a pogue.

You didn’t know what it was like being the guy no one wanted around anymore. Hell, he barely had anywhere to crash before you helped him out. And now, what? He was supposed to show up to your graduation party and pretend like he belonged?

He was getting worked up now. He knew it. But damn, how was he supposed to just walk into that house, standing next to you while everyone whispered about how he would be dragging you down?

“It’s my party,” you said, taking a step closer. “I don’t care what they think. I want you there.”

He clenched his jaw and looked away. You didn’t get it. This wasn’t just about your daddy or your friends or even you. It’s about the fact that no matter how hard he tried, he was always gonna be that guy they look at sideways like he wasn’t worth a dam.

“Yeah? And what happens when they start askin’ questions?” He asked, voice low, trying to keep the edge out of it. “When they find out we’ve been sneakin’ around for months? You think they’ll just be cool with that? You wanna throw all that away, for me?”

Your face tightened up, hurt showing in your eyes, and damn if that didn’t make his chest twist up inside. He hated seeing you like that.

“I’m just tired of pretending like I’m ashamed of you.”

That one hit hard, harder than he expected.

He dropped his head, rubbing the back of his neck, feeling like he was about to lose it. “M’ not doing this to hurt you,” he muttered, trying to pull himself back together. “I’m doing it ‘cause I care about you.”

He was protecting this.

You shook your head like you didn’t believe him. “No, you’re doing this ‘cause you think you’re protecting me from something that doesn’t even matter. None of this—my parents, the Kook bullshit—none of it matters to me.”

You didn’t curse often, but when you did, he knew you were upset. Rafe let out a frustrated sigh, looking down at his boots, the ones you’d bought him a month ago, kicking at some dirt on the ground. He hated this. Hated how you made it seem so simple. Like you could just snap your fingers, and everything would fall into place.

"Doesn't matter to you," he muttered, shaking his head. "But it matters to them. It matters to the people you gotta see every day. Your parents, your friends... hell, half the damn island. You think they won’t care? That they won’t look at you different if they see you with me?"

You were right there in front of him now, reaching out to touch his arm, but he tensed up, not ready for the comfort. Not when his head was a mess.

“I don’t care what they think. Why do you?"

That question. That damn question. It was always the same one, and he never had a good answer for it. He didn’t care what they thought, not about him.

But you? You deserved better. And even if you didn’t see it that way, he did.

“I care ‘cause you’re... you’re better than all that, alright?" His voice was gruff, trying to keep from saying too much, but it was getting harder. "You got your whole future lined up, you’re set. College, whatever the hell you wanna do. And then there's me, dragging you down with all my bullshit. You deserve—"

“I deserve to make my own choices,” you cut in, stepping even closer, so close now that he could feel the warmth of your skin, hear the frustration under your breath. “And I choose you. I don’t care about any of that other stuff. I want you there tonight. With me.”

The way you said it, it almost made him want to believe it. Almost.

Rafe clenched his jaw, eyes drifting up to meet yours. You really believed it, didn’t you? That this could work. That you two could just show up, be together, and it wouldn’t matter what anyone thought. Part of him wanted to grab onto that same hope, hold it tight, and say “fuck it” to everything else.

But the other part—the part that had seen how the world worked, how Kooks looked down on Pogues like him—knew better.

"Just 'cause you want it, doesn’t makes it real.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, "Like we can just walk in there and no one’s gonna give a shit that you’re standing next to me.”

You crossed your arms now, jaw set in that stubborn way that usually meant you weren’t backing down. “I don’t care anymore, Rafe. I’m tired of living by their rules. This is my life."

He felt a flare of anger burn in his chest. Not at you, but at the situation. At the fact that he couldn’t just be the guy you wanted him to be, the guy who could walk into that party and not feel like he was sticking out like a sore thumb.

“Yeah?” he snapped back, voice rough. “And what about next time, huh? What about the next party or when your dad finds out and says you’re not allowed to see me anymore. What then?”

You stared at him, eyes hard, like you were daring him to say more, but there was something else in your expression, something that made his throat tighten. "You’re just looking for an excuse," you said quietly. "You’re scared."

Maybe you were right. Maybe he was scared.

Scared that if he let himself believe this could work, he’d end up losing you in the end anyway. Scared that the moment you really saw how different your lives were, you’d leave, and he’d be the one standing there, broken.

“Can’t you just drop it?”

“You’re being mean.”

He wasn’t trying to hurt you—not really. But he didn’t know how else to get through your head, how to make you see what he saw.

“So what if I am. Maybe I need to be. You’re not listening to me.”

You didn’t flinch, didn’t back down, and that just pissed him off more. You should be mad. You should hate him for not just going along with this, for making it all so damn hard. But there you were, looking at him like you still believed in him. Like he was worth it. And fuck, that was the hardest part.

Your eyes were glassy, and he could see it—the hurt. The way you blinked fast, your lips pressed tight, like you were holding it all in, it killed him.

“You’re pushing me away,” you said, voice shaky as hell. “And I don’t get it. You’re actin’ like I’d be better off without you.”

He clenched his fists, feeling that familiar burn of frustration flare up. He didn’t want to yell at you.

Hell, he never wanted to make you cry, but you didn’t get it. Part of him wanted to shake you, make you see things the way he saw them. The other part? The part that hurt every time you talked about leaving, about how you had this whole future ahead of you... that part just wanted to pull you in and hold on tight.

He laughed, a sharp, humorless sound. “Yeah? Well, someone needs to. 'Cause you’re blind if you think this ends with us living happily ever after.”

You flinched, like his words had hit you straight in the chest. And then, the tears came, and he couldn’t stop them this time. You wiped at your face, trying to hold it together, but he’d already done the damage.

He was falling apart right in front of you, and he hated that you had to see it. Hated that you were the only person who ever saw him like this.

He hated himself for saying it, but he couldn’t stop now. Couldn’t stop the truth from comin’ out, no matter how much it hurt. “You’re leavin’ in four months, and I’m still here. Still... me. And I’m not draggin’ you down with all my crap. You deserve better than that.”

You reached out, grabbing his arm, and the way you touched him made somethin’ inside him crack. “I don’t want better, Rafe. I want you.”

“Yeah?” He barked out a laugh, bitter and hollow. “And what happens when you’re gone? When you’re off at college, livin’ your life, and I’m still here, stuck in this place? You think this... whatever this is, is gonna last?”

Your voice broke a little when you spoke again. “Why are you doing this?”

“I’m doin’ it ‘cause I care about you,” he said, voice dropping low, rough around the edges. “More than anything. But you... you got a future. You got everythin’ ahead of you. And me? I ain’t got nothin’ but a one-way ticket to nowhere.”

You were cryin’ now, and that damn near killed him. You never cried, not like this. “That’s not true. Why can’t you see that? I’m not leaving you behind.”

Rafe finally looked up, meeting your eyes, and he could see it—could see how much you meant it.

And damn, he wanted to believe it. Wanted to believe that maybe, just maybe, you were right. But he’d been around long enough to know how this world worked, and it never worked out for guys like him.

“I can’t be the one to ruin your life,” he said, stepping back, pulling away from your touch even though it felt like it was tearing him apart to do it. “I won’t.”

“Rafe,” you whispered, voice broken and pleading, but he shook his head.

“Just... let it go,” he muttered, turning his back to you. He couldn’t handle it anymore. Couldn’t handle seeing you hurt, knowing it was his fault. Knowing he was the reason your heart was breaking.

"Fine," you choked out, voice only just holding steady. "If you don’t want me there, then I’ll stop trying.”

You turned on your heel, storming off, but not before he saw your shoulders shake. 

Fuck.

That shit crushed him, but still, he didn’t move.

Just stood there, fists clenched, staring at the ground while you walked away from him. He knew he’d ruin the best thing that ever happened to him, he just didn’t expect it to happen this soon. He wanted to go after you, and say something to make it right, but what was the point? 

He always fucked it up somehow.

He leaned his head back against the shed, staring up at the sky, feeling like an absolute waste of space.

You had everything going for you—family, friends, a future—and what the hell did he have? Nothing but bad luck and a reputation that dragged behind him like a chain. He didn’t even know why you bothered with him sometimes. You were too good, too kind.

And he? He was the definition of a screw-up. Always saying the wrong thing, always ruining the good moments before they even had a chance to get started.

He slid down the wall until he was sitting in the dirt, head in his hands, wishing he could just be different. Wishing he didn’t care so much about what your dad thought or how your friends would whisper when you weren’t around. He wished he could just be the guy you saw, the guy you believed in.

Hours later, the party at your place was in full swing, and he knew you were there, trying to have a good time without him. He hadn’t shown up, of course. Just like he said he wouldn’t. Rafe stayed back, back in that stupid abandoned house, trying to tell himself this was for the best. 

He could hear the distant sound of music coming from your house, the laughter of your Kook friends echoing through the night air. It was the kind of party he never really belonged at—one where everyone showed up in their clean-cut clothes, fresh haircuts, and fancy cars. The kind of life he never had a shot at, not really. And here he was, stuck in the dirt, hands covered in grime, still trying to figure out why the hell you kept fighting for him.

He wasn’t stupid. He knew this was what was supposed to happen. You deserved to be there, with your people, not hanging around with someone like him. You’d be fine without him weighing you down. Hell, you’d probably be better off in the long run. He’d hurt you. He knew it. Saw it clear as day when you walked off, tears in your eyes, but he didn’t go after you. He didn’t know how.

But then his phone buzzed—the phone you had gotten him—and he looked down to see your name flashing on the screen. He stared at it for a second, his gut twisting, then picked up.

“Yeah?”

All he could hear on the other end was you crying. That soft, broken cry made his chest feel like it was caving in.

“Hey, hey,” he said quickly, standing up straighter. “What’s wrong?”

You didn’t answer right away, just kept crying, and that was worse than anything you could’ve said. His heart was pummeling to the ground, and he was already on his feet, ready to head over before you even asked.

“Sweetheart,” he tried again, trying to keep himself from sounding as panicked as he felt. “What happened? Talk to me.”

You sniffled hard, trying to talk through the sobs. “Rafe, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to—” You couldn’t even finish the sentence, your voice all shaky and broken.

He couldn’t stand to hear you like that, not when he knew it was his fault. He ran a hand through his hair, pacing now, feeling like a total jackass.

“Stop crying, darlin’,” he muttered, voice softer now. “I hate when you cry.”

“I’m just so upset,” you whispered, still trying to catch your breath. “I didn’t want us to fight like that. I just miss you.”

Rafe clenched his jaw, feeling like shit. He could hear the party still going in the background, but all you wanted was him. He knew that, but somehow he’d still managed to mess everything up.

“Where are you?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

“My room,” you muttered, “I couldn’t stay down there. I feel so stupid.”

His heart twisted, and before he even knew what he was doing, he was throwing on his jacket, heading out.

“I’m coming’ over,” he said, his voice firm.

“What?” you sounded surprised. “Rafe, you don’t have to—”

“I’m coming’,” he interrupted you, his voice low but serious. “Stay there. I’ll be there in a few.”

Twenty minutes later, he was sneaking around the side of your house, ducking behind bushes to avoid being seen. The party was still going, people everywhere, but all he cared about was getting to your window. He knew how to sneak into your room like the back of his hand by now. Too many months of practice.

He climbed through, landing quiet as a mouse, and saw you sitting on the edge of your bed, looking down at your hands. Your eyes were red from crying, and he felt that familiar guilt twisting in his gut.

When you looked up and saw him, you stood fast, like you couldn’t believe he was actually there.

Before he could say anything, you were in his arms, holding onto him tight, like you were scared he might disappear. Rafe held you, his chin resting on top of your head as you pressed into him, your fingers clutching at the back of his jacket like you didn’t want to let go. He knew he'd screwed up. He always did. But when you were there, clutching him like he was the only thing that mattered, it made him question everything he'd told himself.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your face buried in his chest, your body shakin’ from the sobs.

Rafe wrapped his arms around you, holding you as close as he could, like he was trying to make up for every shitty thing he’d said. “You don’t gotta apologize, alrigh’?” he muttered, his voice low and rough. “This one’s on me.”

You pulled back just enough to look up at him, tears still in your eyes, and damn if it didn’t make him want to punch himself.

“I don’t care about the party or the people,” you practically whimpered, “I just want you, Rafe.”

He stared down at you, feeling’ that knot in his throat. He didn’t deserve you. He never had. But here you were, saying you wanted him anyway.

“I’m sorry for being a dick,” He exhaled, “I just... I don’t know how to do this right. I’m scared I’m just gonna hurt you.”

You shook your head, your hands resting on his chest. “You don’t have to protect me. I just want you to let me in.”

He swallowed hard. You were all he wanted, but damn if it didn’t scare the hell out of him sometimes.

Still, he wasn’t about to lose you. Not like this.

The warmth of you against him, the way you fit so perfectly into his chest—it made him feel like he might just be okay. Like maybe, for once, things didn’t have to be so damn complicated.

But that didn’t mean the doubts were gone. He pulled back just a little, enough to see your face, brushing a tear away from your cheek with his thumb.

 “You know I’m not good at this, right?” His voice was low, rough, like he was almost ashamed to say it. “I don’t wanna screw things up, but I don’t always know how to… be better.”

You looked up at him, your eyes still watery but soft, full of that same stubborn affection you always had for him. “I don’t need you to be perfect. I just need you to let me in when it gets hard.”

He let out a slow breath, trying to wrap his head around how you could want him—still want him—after all the times he’d messed up. “I’m tryin’, alright?” He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated with himself. “I don’t wanna push you away, but sometimes it feels like that’s the only thing I know how to do.”

You gave him this sad little smile, like you knew exactly what he meant. “I don’t care if you push sometimes,” you conceded, “Just—don’t leave. Don’t make me feel like I’m in this alone.”

That hit him harder than anything.

He realized then, as much as he was scared of dragging you down, you were scared of him disappearing. No matter how fucked up things got, no matter how much he doubted himself or the future, he wasn’t about to let you slip away.

You bit your lip, like you were debating whether or not to say something, and for a second, Rafe felt like he couldn’t breathe.

“I love you, Rafe.”

Those three words hit him harder than anything ever had. Harder than all the fights, the doubts, the shit he carried around like it was glued to his skin. His heart just about stopped in his chest, and he just stared at you like you’d knocked the wind out of him.

“What—what did you just say?” His voice came out hoarse like he didn’t trust what he heard.

“I love you,” you said again, a little more sure this time. You smiled, but your eyes were still searching his, like you were waiting for him to say something back.

Like maybe he wouldn’t.

His head started spinning, like the room had just tilted sideways.

He could feel his pulse hammering in his throat, and suddenly he wasn’t sure if he was about to pass out or just drop to his knees. How the hell were you standing there, looking at him, and saying that?

His mouth opened, but nothing came out. He felt his knees wobble for a second, like his legs were going to give out. Jesus Christ, get it together, he thought, trying to pull in a breath, but it felt like the air got stuck halfway down his throat.

“You love me?” His voice cracked, and he hated how insecure he sounded, how unsure. But it was like his brain couldn’t process those words coming from you.

You nodded, stepping closer, your hand slipping back to his chest, right over his heart. “Yeah. I love you.”

Rafe’s heart was pounding so hard now, he thought it might actually explode. He blinked, then swallowed hard, still trying to make sense of what was happening.

It wasn’t like he didn’t believe you—it was just, how the hell did he deserve that? Deserve you?

“Shit…” He whispered, almost to himself, and suddenly his legs felt weak again. “I... I—fuck, I don’t know what to say.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted you to know.”

But he did.

He needed to say something, anything, to let you know what that meant to him. His throat felt tight, like he might choke if he didn’t get it out.

 “I—I love you too.” It came out fast, like he was scared if he didn’t say it quick enough, you might take it back. "I love you, too. So fucking much, I don't even know what to do with it half the time.”

He looked down at you, and for once, he didn’t care if he was being soft or vulnerable or any of that shit that scared him before.

He just wanted you to know how much he needed you, how much you meant to him.

And as soon as the words were out, you smiled, this big, radiant smile that lit up your whole face, and Rafe felt like he might actually faint this time.

His heart was gonna burst wide open. He pulled back a little, still holding onto you, his forehead resting against yours. 

“You don’t know how much I needed to hear that,” he muttered, “I’ve never—no one’s ever...”

You smiled, brushing your thumb over his cheek, and it was so gentle, so full of love, that it almost knocked him off his feet all over again.

“You deserve it,” you reminded him again, “You deserve to be loved.”

There you were, always telling him of what he was deserving of. 

“I love you,” he whispered again, just to make sure you knew. He buried his face in your neck, his arms enveloping you tighter than before.

You loved him. You loved him. And he loved you.

It felt like the confession had lightened up something inside you.

He’d thought about how it would go, the first time you two would be together like that. In his head, it was always this big moment, something special. 

He was rough around the edges, sure, but he wanted to do it right. He wanted it to be perfect for you. He'd even thought about planning something out—candles, a slow build, maybe a weekend when no one was around.

His breath was ragged as he felt you pull him closer, your hands gripping the fabric of his shirt. He’d thought about this moment a thousand times—hell, probably more—but never like this.

Not rushed, not with everyone downstairs, and definitely not with you looking at him like you couldn’t wait any longer. You kissed him like you couldn’t stop, fingers already slipping beneath the fabric, making it hard for him to think straight.

“Sweetheart...” his voice was low with that familiar southern drawl, like he was trying to hold it all together. “You sure ‘bout this? We got a house full of people downstairs.”

You kissed him harder, pulling his shirt over his head, and he nearly lost his mind right then and there. He wanted to slow down, make this moment perfect for you, but the way you were all over him? It made him forget every plan he’d ever had. He let out a shaky breath, his hands settling on your waist, trying to ground himself. 

Jesus, this wasn’t how he’d imagined it.

He wanted to slow down, wanted to make this moment last, but you were already working your hands up his chest, and it was driving him insane.

“I don’t care,” you muttered against his lips, your breath hot and all desperate.

Damn, if you weren’t the most stubborn, determined girl he’d ever met. But he loved that about you. Loved how you always knew exactly what you wanted. And right now? It was clear you wanted him. His hands slid up your back, fingers tracing the curves he’d been dreaming about for months.

Rafe let out a groan, trying his best to keep it together, but you were making it damn near impossible. “I was... I was tryin’ to be romantic for once,” he mumbled as he looked into your eyes, practically begging himself to slow down, to make this right. “Was thinkin’ candles, music... not with your whole damn family downstairs, baby.”

You laughed, breathless, and pulled him even closer, your body against his. “You don’t want me?” There was a hint of challenge in your voice like you didn’t believe him.

His blue eyes went wide. “What? ‘Course I want you,” he said, almost shocked you’d even think that. “‘I’ve always wanted you. You gotta know that.”

You looked up at him and he nearly came on the stop, “Then stop holding back.”

Every last bit of control he had glided right out of his hands. You were there, right in front of him, pulling him into you, like you didn’t care about anything else. All his plans, all his ideas of some perfect first time? Out the damn window.

 “You... you look so damn beautiful. This dress— I can’t get over how good you look in it.”

You giggled, and for a moment, the heat between you two softened into something tender, something that made his chest ache.

He loved that sound. Loved the way it lit up your face, like you had no idea just how much you meant to him.

He kissed you again, slow at first like he was trying to be a gentleman, but the way you kissed him back, so eager, so damn hungry—it broke whatever restraint he had left. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer, feeling the soft fabric of your dress against his skin, and it sent a jolt through him, making him lose track of everything but you. The room felt too small, and all he could think about was how long he’d been waiting for this—for you.

His hands trembled as he reached for the hem of your dress, hesitating for a second before pulling it up, revealing the soft skin of your waist. He was trying to stay calm, to keep his mind from racing, but it felt damn near impossible with the way you were looking at him.

You were everything.

He swallowed hard, “I... I wanna take my time with you,” he murmured, like he was scared he’d crack the spell between you if he spoke too loud. His fingers brushed over your skin, gentle, as he lifted your dress the rest of the way, eyes flicking up to yours, searching for any sign that you wanted him to stop.

You didn’t.

If anything, you moved even closer, your breathing coming out in quick, giddy breaths. There was something endearing about it—like neither of you really knew what you were doing, but you both wanted it so badly. You were learning together.

Your dress fell to the floor, and he just stared for a moment, blue eyes all wide, like he couldn’t believe this was happening. “Goddamn..”

His hands hovered over your skin, like he didn’t want to rush, but you were yanking him impossibly closer, urging him on. He began to move again, gliding slowly over your bare skin, every touch reverent, like he was afraid you’d disappear if he wasn’t careful enough.

He kissed you again, deeper this time, his hands still roaming over your body, savoring every inch of you. The soft sighs you made only pushed him further, made him forget everything except how much he wanted to make you feel good, how much he needed this to be good for you.

His was light-headed as he whispered your name, “God, I love you— I don’t think you even know how much.”

“I think I do,” you whispered back, lips brushing his neck. “Show me.”

He reached for the delicate straps of your bra and pulled them down your shoulders, like he was unwrapping the most precious thing in the world.

He paused for a second, looking into your eyes, making sure you were still with him, still wanting this as much as before.

You nodded softly, your lips parted, your breath coming out in shallow gasps. His fingers found the clasp, fumbling slightly, and he cursed under his breath with a rough chuckle, “Sorry, baby… it’s just—damn, I’m mess right now.”

You beamed at him, all the tension melting away, “You’re doing’ just fine,” you whispered, urging him to keep going.

With one final tug, the clasp gave way, and your bra slipped off, falling to the floor. Rafe’s eyes darkened as he took you in, his mouth going dry. He swallowed hard like he couldn’t believe this was real.

His hands moved steadily, fingertips grazing your bare skin as he lowered them to your waist, where the last piece of fabric still clung to your body. He hesitated for just a second, his eyes coming back to yours, silently asking for permission.

 “I want you.”

That was all it took.

He hooked his fingers under the waistband of your underwear, sliding them down, savoring every inch of you as you were revealed to him. He let out a low groan, as he finally saw you—all of you.

He needed to remind himself this was real. That you were his. “Fuck,” His voice was filled with awe. "You’re perfect.”

Your fingers drifted lower, tugging at the waistband of his jeans and you felt noticed how his body tensed under your touch, his muscles rippling as he tried to keep himself calm.

“C’mon,” you purred, just teasing as you pulled at the button, “I think it’s your turn now.”

Rafe’s lips curved into that cocky grin he knew you loved, "You sure ‘bout that, sweetheart?" 

You nodded, small hands already working to unbutton his jeans. He almost let out a prayer, biting his lip as you slipped them down, his body shivering as your fingers brushed against his skin.

His jeans fell to the floor, and you took a step back, admiring him like he was worth all that staring. Rafe stood there in nothing but his boxers, chest heaving with all that uncontrollable love he felt for you.

His eyes were locked on yours, full of that same intense need, but there was something tender in them too, he still couldn’t quite believe you were here, undressing him like this. But you were real, standing there with him and undressing him like you wanted every single piece of him. 

With a soft smile, you reached up, fingers twitching at the waistband of his boxers, your eyes never leaving his. The way you looked at him as you slid them down slowly, revealing every inch of him? He was never letting that go.

Rafe just stood there for a moment, completely bare, his body a little rigid with anticipation, and you felt a shiver run down your spine as you took him in.

"You're perfect too," your eyes roamed over him, taking in the sharp lines of his body, the way he looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered in the world.

When you stepped closer, hands touching his hips now, dragging him towards you, his fingers found your hair, tangling in it as he leaned down to kiss you, slow and deep, pouring everything he couldn’t say into that kiss.

"Jesus," he whispered against your lips, eyes closing as he tried to breath through his excitement, "You're drivin' me crazy.”

You just let out soft little laugh that made his stomach flip, your fingers mapping over his jaw, keeping him close. His whole body was buzzing with need, his skin burning wherever you touched him, but there was something else in the way you were looking at him—a kind of trust that he wasn’t sure he deserved but fuck if he wasn’t going to do everything to live up to it.

His hands skimmed back down to your hips, your bare skin against his, and for a second, he couldn’t think straight. Couldn’t breathe right. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling the familiar scent of you, trying to calm his racing heart.

“You know I’ll take care of you,” he promised, "I want this to be good for you— I’ve always wanted this to be good for you."

You tilted his face down, your lips brushing against his “It already is, Rafe. Just...just be with me."

That was all he needed.

Rafe’s hands touched all over you like he was trying to memorize every part of you, like he couldn’t believe you were letting him have this.

He kissed you, slow but needy, his tongue slipping into your mouth, and the way you responded made his entire body shake. His hands ended up back in your waist, thumb brushing the skin, lifting you just a little and guiding you to the bed, where you both sank into the mattress together.

His weight settled over you, your bodies fitting together in this perfect way that made his head spin. He leaned down, kissing your neck, your collarbone, every inch of skin he could reach.

Your breath came in short gasps, your hands gripping his shoulders as he kissed his way down your body, and Rafe swore he could die.

“You’re everything,” he whispered against your skin, voice hoarse with emotion. "You don't even know... how long I've wanted this. How much I want you."

His fingers moved down, brushing the inside of your thigh. He hesitated for a moment, eyes searching yours, needing that confirmation one more time. You nodded, biting your lip.

His fingers slid between your thighs, slow at first, the warmth of your skin making him shudder. He exhaled sharply, opening you up to him, feeling how ready you were, and it nearly drove him insane. His fingers moved carefully, testing the waters, the softest groan escaping his lips as he found that sensitive spot.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he whispered, like he couldn’t believe the way you felt under his touch.

Your breath caught, hips shifting toward him, a soft moan breaking loose as his fingers pressed against you. The sound of your voice, the way your body responded to him—it drove him wild. He wanted to make sure you felt good.

Two of his fingers slipped inside, careful, tentative at first. He watched your face, making sure you were okay, his other hand resting on your hip, steadying you as they curled slightly, finding a rhythm that made your body arch into him.

“Rafe…” you breathed out, your voice wobbly, eyes fluttering shut as the sensation overwhelmed you.

He worked a little faster now, getting even harder as he felt you tighten around him. “Like that, baby?”

You nodded quickly, biting your lip to stifle another moan, your hands latching on his shoulders as your body quivered under his touch. He groaned softly, his lips finding your neck, licking and sucking at the soft skin there as his fingers continued their slow, deliberate movements. 

Your body curved toward him, every nerve ending tingling as his fingers moved deeper, curling just right. He swallowed hard, his lips brushing against your ear, "Is this okay?"

Your heart thumped against your rib cage, every movement of his fingers making you gasp softly. You managed to give him a small nod, barely able to find your voice. "Yeah, Rafe... it's perfect."

His breath came out a little less unrestrained, clearly relieved, and he continued, the pace slow, testing. The uncertainty in his touch was endearing, but you wanted more—you needed more.

“Baby,” you murmured softly, biting your lip as a rush of heat stretched through you, “Maybe… one more?”

He froze for a moment, his voice coming out in a ragged gasp as he looked at you. “Are you sure?”

Your heart swelled at his concern, and you gave him a reassuring smile. "I’m sure. Just take it slow."

Carefully, he pulled back just a little, his fingers slipping out before he added a third finger. His brow furrowed in concentration, his eyes flicking up to yours, watching your face for any sign of discomfort.

The sensation was different, intense, but not too overwhelming. You let out a soft moan, your body adjusting to the new pressure as he filled you more.

“Does it—does it feel good?” Rafe asked, his face inches from yours, vulnerable.

“Yes,” you breathed out, “It feels amazing.”

His lips parted, a nervous smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He let out a soft laugh, almost as if he couldn’t believe it himself. “I was worried I’d mess it up.”

You shook your head, pulling him closer, your hand twisting in his hair. “You're doing great.”

He exhaled slowly, his body relaxing a little as he found a rhythm again. His fingers moved more confidently now, more certain, his jaw falling slack as he watched you react to him.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” Rafe muttered, eyes glued to your face. “You feel that? You’re taking me so well.”

You whined at how deep his voice sounded, your body buzzing as his fingers worked in deeper, the pressure mounting with every movement. Your mind filled with nothing but the feeling of him inside you.

“God, yes,” you breathed out, the pleasure building to a point where it felt like you might break apart.

Rafe's pace quickened, as he pressed his fingers harder, deeper, hitting that perfect spot inside you over and over again. 

"Come on, baby," he practically begged you, voice hoarse. Your breath came out in short, shallow gasps as you felt yourself creeping toward the edge, every movement of his hand bringing you closer. His name fell from your lips in a breathless moan as the tension snapped, your body shuddering as the pleasure washed over you.

His eyes widened in awe, his fingers slowing as he watched you like he couldn’t believe what he’d just made happen. He groaned softly, feeling you pulse around him, "You did so good," he murmured, lips brushing against your temple. "So perfect."

You felt a shiver run down your entire being as his hands glided up your thighs, spreading them gently as he settled himself between them. He was shaking a little, and you could see the hesitation in his eyes—the nervousness that came with doing something for the first time, not wanting to mess it up.

But when he leaned down, kissing you slow and deep, all the apprehend melted away. He couldn’t help but take in every detail—the way your lips parted as you breathed him in. He felt like he was drowning, but in the best way possible.

“I don’t think I can wait any longer.”

You looked up at him, your own breath uneven, eyes wide and the way you saw through him—it was like you were giving him the world. His hand was still shaking slightly as he reached down, lining himself up with you, taking his time, not rushing even though every fiber of his being screamed to.

"I wanna make this good for you," he murmured, his lips brushing your ear. "I don’t wanna hurt you." 

There was a hesitation, a vulnerability that he only showed in moments like this. His focus was entirely on you, on making sure you felt nothing but pleasure. You gave him a small, reassuring nod, your hand finding his, fingers slipping through his, squeezing. "I trust you.”

He exhaled slowly, nodding to himself as he eased into you, inch by inch, watching your face the entire time, making sure you were still doing okay.

The sensation overwhelmed him, the warmth of your body, the way you welcomed him so completely. He groaned, low and deep, knowing he could do this for the rest of his life. You were so fucking warm.

"Fuckkk," he moaned, "You feel so fuckin' good, darlin'."

His eyes fluttered shut for a moment, his forehead pressing against yours as he sank deeper, the feeling of being inside you nearly sending him over the edge. He wanted to take it slow, to savor every moment, but the way you clenched around him, the way you whispered his name like it was the only word you knew—it made it impossible.

Your eyes fluttered closed, lashes brushing against flushed cheeks, lips parting in a soft gasp that made his heart skip a beat. His hips moved on instinct, slow at first, testing, his breath coming out in shallow pants as he tried to hold back. "Tell me if it’s too much," he managed to say, his voice strained.

“It’s p-perfect.”

His hips snapped forward, the movement more sure, more confident as he lost himself in the moment. A low groan escaping his lips as he buried himself deeper, his hands gripping your hips as he moved faster, harder, the need to be closer to you taking over.

You mewled pathetically at this point, nails digging into every bit of skin you could get your hands on, body arching beneath him as he hit that perfect spot over and over again. It wasn’t fair that he was a natural.

The way you responded to him, the sounds you made—it had to be the best day of his life.

“Touch me.”

He cupped your tit, thumb brushing over the hardened peak with a gentle touch that contrasted the desperate way his hips moved against you.

His eyes never left your face, watching every flicker of emotion as his hands explored you. "Like this?" he murmured, his thumb circling again as his hips moved deeper. The way your body reacted—sucking him in like a goddamn vice—it nearly undid him.

“Mmhp—Fuck. J—Just like that.”

He leaned down, like a man possessed, lips brushing the soft skin of your tit, his warm breath ghosting over your sensitive skin, sending a shiver up your spine. His mouth found the hardened peak, lips wrapping around it with a low groan, and his tongue flicked over it slowly, teasingly. You gasped, your hands entangling in his hair, holding him there as he sucked harder, his teeth grazing just enough to make you whimper.

He hummed in satisfaction, feeling the way your body responded to him. His tongue circled slowly, drawing out every sound you made, savoring each gasp, each moan as he lavished attention on your body. 

“Fuck, baby,” he muttered, voice muffled against your skin as he switched to the other breast, giving it the same attention, his lips trailing over your heated flesh. “You taste so good.”

You couldn’t help the way your body responded, pressing up against him, your hips rolling to meet his. The dual sensation of his mouth on you and the deep, steady thrusts left you tingling all over, beneath him, completely dazed by the pleasure he was giving you.

“Rafe—" you huffed, the word barely more than a breath as your grip tightened in his hair, pulling him closer. His mouth latched on harder, sucking with a fervor that left you breathless.

He pulled back just slightly, lips wet and swollen as he looked up at you,“I could do this all night,” he whispered, “You like that, baby? You like how I’m making you feel?”

He didn’t know where these surges of confidence kept coming from, but he never felt so relieved. It felt like his body knew exactly what to do when it came to yours.

His hand skidded between your legs once more, fingers finding your swollen, sensitive clit, rubbing slow, deliberate circles that matched the rhythm of his hips and mouth. You could barely think straight, couldn’t form a coherent thought.

When his lips finally crashed back into yours, the taste of him overpowered every sense as his hands pulled your hips tighter. His kiss was messy, all spit and need, like he couldn’t get enough of you—like he needed to feel you, taste you, breathe you in all at once. His tongue slid past your parted lips, slow and teasing at first, then deeper, as if he was trying to consume you whole.

He groaned into the kiss, his teeth grazing your bottom lip before tugging on it softly, then harder as he swallowed the sound of your whines.

When he broke the kiss, it was only to press wet, fevered kisses down your jawline, to your neck, leaving a trail of spit and heat in his wake.

“I love you,” he muttered against your skin, his lips latching onto your collarbone, sucking on the sensitive spot just below your ear, biting gently, “So fuckin’ much.”

“I love you,” You breathed out between kisses, his hands gripping the flesh of your ass and pulling you flush against him, the hard line of his body pressing against yours in a way that made you gasp, “Never g-gonna s-stop,” you whispered back, the taste of him lingering on your tongue as he kissed you harder, rougher, swallowing every sound you made.

"Fuck, I’m close," he gasped, his forehead resting against yours as he fought to hold back, to make this last, but you could feel him losing control, feel the tension coiling tight in his body. His hips moved with a relentless, desperate need, his breath broken and uneven.

“Rafe—” you nearly cried, your body shaking beneath him. Every thrust, every touch, every breath was pushing you closer to the edge, and you knew you weren’t going to last much longer.

“Let go for me, baby,” he encouraged you, two fingers still rubbing teasing circles over your sensitive clit, “Come for me.”

Your body tightened around him as you came undone with a cry of his name. Rafe groaned as he felt you clench around him, fluttering so perfectly.

His release was not far behind as he thrust into you one last time, before pulling out with a strangled moan, his body shuddering as he came all over your tummy, his head falling to your shoulder.

Rafe stayed there for a while, catching his breath, his body still shaking like a leaf as the tremors of pleasure coursed through him.

Taking his time, he lifted his head, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, then your cheek, and finally your lips. "I love you," he said it again, as he gazed down at you, his thumb brushing tenderly over your flushed cheek. "So damn much."

You never looked so heartbreakingly beautiful. Like a fucking painting.

You grinned from ear to ear, your heart swelling with affection as you held his face in your hands, pulling him for another kiss. "I love you too," you murmured against his lips, your fingers threading through his hair, "Always."

Rafe’s lips curved into a smile against yours, his arms wrapping around you, holding you close.

And in that moment, nothing else mattered. You were his, and he was yours—completely, utterly, and without question

[shortchoco]

Its now basically confirmed Sampo is from planet Kalevala according to the new textmap leaks for his upcoming event :)

Ok I think our theories of him being forged by SOMEONE or some aeon is slowly becoming true BUT the question is who?

It could be the HSR alternate of Illumiren that crafted sampo or even the Preservation. Why do I think that? Well simply put, preservation is trying to preserve anything it can possibly do-- and additionally, qiloph has a giant hammer, it would make sense for them to "make" sampo, not only for the sake of Belebog but also Kalevala who is in a similar situation as them.

The poem Sampo singing in these leaks literally talk about HIMSELF and I'm pretty sure the word "Sampo" is going to be highlighted in yellow/red during the game BC of these odd "RUBY" text around it, just to emphasise something about SAMPO.

Sampo happily singing about himself or his supposed "purpose" makes me think he's a mix of 3 paths (as in he believes in them or he embodies them in some way):

The Preservation-- he has been consistently running around belebog behind the scenes, even as far as going to penacony to get his mask back from sparkle. He's obviously trying to *preserve* belebog and save it from destruction

Elation-- this is pretty obvious. Sampo braking the 4th wall, his mask, his talk with Giovanni and scamming people. But something that doesn't add up I think is him not having his mask during the belebog quest. I think the reason why he didn't have his mask was not only BC he was retired as many people mentioned but ALSO the fact that the masks that the fools carry can corrupt them. If U watch Sparkle's myriad celestia trailer, U can tell she's being possessed by someone else like an evil spirit and how her mask has half red, half white parts. But then I think ABT Giovanni who has the same feature on his mask but doesn't seem possessed like sparkle herself. He seems very similar to Sampo, calm and rational which explains why SAMPO'S friends with him in the first place. But even then sampo seems to refuse sharing his beliefs until someone asks him and I think that shows his reluctance to return to elation

Nihilty-- this is SAMPO'S ingame path and I didn't only choose it BC it was his ingame path. You see elation and Nihility are practically the same thing. Both believe that life is nothing/joke but the only thing that sets them apart is that nihility just does nothing and awaits for that meaningless end, while the elation is just like "if everything is meaningless than I might just have fun". I feel like Sampo does fall under this category and his backstory will have elements linking to the nihility but that's just my speculation.

I also suspect that sampo was hired by Elio like sparkle BC how else does he know the future? I thought that since sampo may be the emanator of elation, it might relate to that but if he did know the future, during the penacony masquerade duet quest, why did he make a surprised expression when sparkle said she wouldn't give his mask back as a joke? Shouldn't he have known that sparkle was joking if he knew the future? I don't think he was acting here

so I'm thinking that perhaps, Sampo was also hired by Elio. There isn't much to prove this, but if you have a look at firefly's trailer, you can see the stelleron hunters walking on a bridge located in belebog

Also, I think a person on twitter found a note in rivet town from blade saying "you will never get away from me" (dan Heng I pity U).

Since the stelleron hunters didn't take the stelleron from belebog, and let tb do the work, why were they even there to begin with? To give sampo the script methinks.

Anyway, what do you guys think?

[front-facing-pokemon]

[steakout-05]

drawing my Craig fan design for REAL!!!!! + stupid little doodles

earlier i made a post talking about how i was planning on making my own canon where Crarry could still feasibly exist (as well as having other story beats and whatnot) and i mentioned how i refined my Craig design a little bit from the last time i drew him. i finally got around to actually drawing a proper full-body sketch of him and what he's supposed to look like!!! i think i drew his eyes a little more far apart than i intended but. whatever.

he's my skrunkly. he's my baby. he's got perpetually bored resting face and a phd in Pocketbeasts lore. he's got messy hair and a few stray whiskers as he tends to forget his own personal hygiene, what with being a hardworking scientist who usually doesn't show his face and all. i redesigned his eye to have more of a prominent scratch on it that warps and distorts his pupil, as i felt like that'd be the most fitting for his facial scar and the type of injury he has!

and for fun i'm gonna do a general timeline of the evolution of how i've drawn this design over time, because it's actually changed quite a bit since i first drew him back in 2022!! (click for better quality)

god it is. so weird looking back at that first design. it's so..... why is he so square shaped............. lol

now, in terms of differentiating this Craig from Canon Craig, i've thought of giving him some slight personality enhancements that i've always thought would fit him. i haven't seriously thought about it yet (i am tired) but here's some basic little traits i want to make more apparent in his character:

Logical Knowledgeable Creative Naive Perfectionist Fearful and Cowardly Not a very high self-esteem; Afraid to take charge Easily exhausted Not physically strong; Makes up for it with his quick-thinking skills Easily irritated when presented with inaccurate/false information Easily embarrassed; Tends to erase memories when this happens Reliable Honest Earnest Nerdy; LOVES to infodump about any given special interest he has Focused, sometimes to a fault Detail-oriented Introverted

this will likely be expanded on and developed more, but these general personality traits are quite fitting for how i headcanon Craig to be as a person!

i love how whenever i get attached to a character or even just really like them, i always bestow my best headcanon onto them in high regard: the autism headcanon. gonna try to keep this short so i don't infodump for 12 hours but the major autism traits i like to imagine Craig displaying are issues with social skills (unaware of many cues, accidentally says things in an inappropriate way/unintended tone, takes things literally, misconstrues sarcasm as genuine statements), a speech affect (monotone affect), low empathy (doesn't feel what other people feel and has trouble reacting to and feels uncomfortable with certain emotions), has special interests (robotics and engineering, Pocketbeasts, cats, and he loves infodumping about them!!), stimming (rubbing the back of his head when uncomfortable, fidgeting with and studying a particularly intriguing object or tool very closely, doing little puzzles that make little clicky noises that are very pleasant to listen to), experiences sensory issues (joint pain, eye strain, sensitivity to loud and sudden noises, despises certain tastes and textures, often experiences shutdowns), has a strong need for a solidified routine (sudden routine changes can cause distress for him, as he needs more time to process his surroundings and has a strong need for structure in his daily life), a few motor control issues (he's quite clumsy and has issues with spatial awareness, causing him to bump into stuff. this has unfortunately resulted in him bumping his thigh on the edge of a table way too many times.) and a few other things i've probably forgotten about. a lot of these are inspired by a few of my own traits as an autistic guy myself. the dude's like a combo of Data, Barclay and Geordi mixed into one dorky nerd (apologies for any non-trekkie followers who don't know who those characters are :skull:)

Craig seems like the type of person who, once you get him started, will infodump to you about his special interests for HOURS and he still wouldn't even be done yet. just like me fr. also tiny little Craig getting his face smooshed

get squoshed idiot

this is an older sketch i did when i was still finalising Craig's design along with doodling other stuff on the page. this was a little expression test of Craig blowing his face up with chemicals because 1. i thought it'd be funny. and it was. and 2. i've never really drawn him with big wacky expressions before, and i LOVE drawing big wacky expressions lol. it will be a rare sight to see Craig making a face like that but it'll still be funny nonetheless lol

no comment. only moob. i feel the same way about barry tbh HAHAHAAH what who said that

i fucking LOVE the Yababaina music video so much, it's absolutely insane and fun to watch, although it does put my eyes out of focus when i look at it for too long. heavy eyestrain and seizure warning for anyone who wants to check the video out, it's extremely fast-paced and has a lot of bright saturated colours. here are my three boys drawn doing that little handholding thing Miku, Teto and Zundamon do in the video. also first drawing of Prince Runingunin!!! he's so silly <3

that's everything i have today. i'm excited to draw this version of Craig more and make more art of him and Barry together!! just sucks i have to sorta swerve around canon with a convoluted solution but whatever. i like diverging from canon and making stuff up into my own thing anyway lol. blond nerd craig my beloved

[faaun]

ok let's catch up quickly

[forest-hashira]

did not expect to wake up to more reader insert drama but all my beloved mutuals on the dash u are correct ppl need to get over themselves and also touch grass

[mantisgodsdomain]

We ought to write more Pokemon fic some time. We want to recreate the Pokemon Manners/Human Manners cheat sheet that we made a few years ago we think that this site would like the Sliding Scale Of Politeness When Greeting A New Pokemon You've Never Met Before.

[mila-carat]

I was watching this Chinese variety show just to see Ricky and Zhang Hao but then I saw one of the hosts was Zhang Zhenyuan and now I want to cry… 😭💔

[autisticlee]

I hate when someone vents about things they struggle with, and someone replies "be grateful for/focus on the things you have" yeah I get it. but that doesn't cancel out things you DONT have but need. it doesn't make your needs that arent being met just go away or suddenly be met!

[faggotry-enjoyer]

oh i'm definitely gonna lose some friends for this one huh

[p4nishers]

bisexual bobby. i'm right.

[steviescrystals]

MY LIFE IS NOT REAL WHAT IS GOING ON

[hecksupremechips]

Girl like. The reason he said "this is how it should be" and faced death with a smile....is cuz he wanted to die. For 2 years he sat there thinking he was worthless and deserved to die. If he hadn’t be shot, his death would’ve been suicide, he was fully planning to die in a gutter somewhere undetected. When saying "this is how it should be" hes literally saying "don’t cry because I’m dying, my death is a good thing actually because I fucking suck and you are better off without me". I don’t think that’s badass even slightly, it’s actually really sad and really shitty. Shinjiro is so convinced that he deserves to die and hates the idea of anyone giving a shit about him because he literally can’t wrap his mind around the idea that he will be missed when he’s gone, that his death is a bad thing actually. And his last words were meant to be comforting because he fully did not intend for anyone to be there when he died, he intended to die alone, so he says them as a reminder that he’s not worth crying over

Personally, if it were me, if I was holding my dying best friend in my arms who was deeply depressed and suicidal and he said "this is how it should be" uh. I wouldn’t admire him for it??? Like am I losing my mind when I say the way this game handles Shinji is bad or is anyone else seeing this too 😰

[dexaroth]

godddd i WANT to like minecraft so much but theres fucking nothing going onnnnn the biomes are boring the geography is def better than was before but still theres so little variation and even then the core gameplay is just. nothing. the inventory management sucks so much ass ive straight up stopped playing vanilla without bundles and the way you progress in many areas is so dumbb like teehee go find a jungle biome that could be 200 blocks or 20000 blocks away from spawn just so you dont implode of anger trying to build something decent without wasting time on countless dirt pillars. oh and also the only things that look good are structures from the outside because furnishing stuff is practically impossible since theres no furniture. lolz

there are of course many mods that adress this sort of thing but each take it in a new direction and sometimes you just want a branch of the river yknow?

ive been trying to find datapacks for this sort of thing but it doesnt seem like they can accomplish much so it leaves everything to need to be mods.. sigh