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primaviva · 10 months

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PAIRINGS: gwen, miles (42!), hobie, pav, and miguel x fem! reader

SYNOPSIS: astv characters and their s/o going to see barbie.

WARNING/NOTES: matching outfits, the mention of o-o-oppenheimer 🤢🤮, barbie photo ops, miguel being a mamón

— GWEN

i hate to say it so… but she wanted to watch oppenheimer first.

she sent you a text talking about sum “babe let’s see oppenheimer it looks good 🥰” and then you sent her a voice memo of gun shots from your gun sound simulator app and she understood she was wrong.

gwen thinks father of the atomic

it’s not like she didn’t wanna see barbie but she was like… it’s barbie

“babe cmon! you can’t tell me oppenheimer doesn’t look cool. what is barbie even about? is she gonna go on an adventure to find that old rubber high heel the little girl that owns her lost those many years ago? oooo so interesting.”

“do not mock me gwendolyn.”

you showed her the trailer as gwen showed you the oppenheimer trailer

in the end you both lost.

yeah… oppenheimer is a glorification a historical event that people don’t touch on the affects it had and rather the men behind it

and yeah… barbie having an existential crisis on what it means to be a woman and her place in the world sounded like it had potential

“i mean, yeah the trailer is kinda fire,” you admitted, weak in defeat.

gwen crossed her arms with a smirk of victory. “see! i told you that it looked cool,” she rubbed in your face before changing her expression, “but… barbie also sounds like it’s gonna be good. who says we can’t do both?”

you guys do barbieheimer.

and since you both were already gonna indulge in the internet craze… of course you played into it

gwen dressed in all black in this tux and even got the hat to match

you on the other hand wore all pink in tribute to barbie

she was FAWNING over you.

the cute outfit? the accessories? you in general?

you also couldn’t lie with how attractive gwen looked in a blazer I MEANNNN

she wore a bunch of rings on her hands and had a tie and all but she made it looser and looser until she just took it off and shoved it in her pocket before y’all left because it was annoying the shit out of her

“oh my you look so dapper,” you complimented, fighting back laughs from your choice of wording.

you watched as she smoothed down the blazer, shocked that she even had that in her closet. it was weird seeing her dressed like that and you couldn’t help but try to not look. it would be a bad night if she caught you peeking because yeah, you know she’s fine, but do you want her knowing that? to use that against you as leverage? hell. no.

gwen let out a laugh as she striked a pose, hands on her hips moving the sides of the blazer behind her to show off black waistcoat top. “really? you flatter me. aren’t you the bees knees yourself, babe.”

you cringed. hard.

her attempt at 1940 slang was where you drew the line and her shit eating grin didn’t help.

“gwen… dare i say gwendolyn again.”

she smirked. “yes, sugar lips?”

“i hate you.”

gwen was clearly feeling herself

you were too

and trust there was a photoshoot. and trust that it was gwen’s idea even if it was mostly her taking photos of you and her hyping you up crazy

“you’re gonna be the prettiest there babe. nobody can top my girl! not even barbie-”

“don’t be corny with me please…”

you guys decided to watch oppenheimer first and then end on a happy note with barbie

throughout oppenheimer you could see… even FEEL gwen’s eyes staring at the side of your head

she was just making sure you at least enjoyed the movie because it would break her soul if she forced you to watch something you didn’t like

you guys ended up loving it, especially the bomb scene

then you guys watched barbie…

it was a lot of laughing but the moment the movie started taking its turn bro gwen was fighting tears

and at the end of it? BALLING HER EYES OUT

if you are crying you both are just looking at each other in utter shock at the movie but also doing a really poor job at hugging each other

if you aren’t crying your eyes out with her you are comforting her while kinda laughing at her because she thought it was just gonna be some pink glam movie

it wasn’t.

“t-the message… this is so embarrassing i can’t stop crying what the fuck,” she cried into her palms which made her sound really funny as it was muffled by her skin.

you just held her close and you guys talked about the movies

especially like talking about the symbolism in barbie and how it touched on women suffering from the system and standards they are forced to live up to like it really hit gwen especially because the hate she got for how she acted in astv and how nobody was coming at the males that did the same or even worse than her

she sends you tiktok edits of gloria x barbie and says “us❤️”

overall, it was a 10/10 experience y’all went out to eat after in your cute outfits n all

— MILES

you asked him and miles was down IMMEDIATELY

he was another that thought oppenheimer looked good but he didn’t really mention going to the movie with you and the same thing for barbie

miles just thought they was both cool lookin

so you asked him.

“miles, baby, i have a very important question to ask you… one that may very well determine the outcome of this relationship.”

you spoke stern and serious, and almost vague.

"yeah, what's up? something wrong?" miles asks, slightly concerned, running his fingers through his curls and looking up at you.

“will you watch the barbie movie with me?” you pleaded with your hands, “pleaseee!”

miles eyes go wide, a smile spreading across his face.

"yes! i'm so down! i'll even be your ken if you wanna be my barbie. you know i'm a sucker for anything barbie."

you laughed, moving over to sit in his lap. he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you in closer. “my ken, huh? i like the idea of that.”

“i mean, what else would i be? i’m here to serve you,” he spoke with a slight blush painted on his cheeks. you giggled as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“we should do those matching couple outfits for barbie,” you suggested, “wouldn’t we look so cute?”

"matching outfits?" he asks thoughtfully. "y’know what, i think i know the perfect idea for our couple's look, babe."

miles had this glow to him as you literally saw a light bulb go off in his head.

“oh really, you have an idea?” you questioned, furrowing your brows at the speed of whatever little brain storm was going on in his head. “is it boricua barbie? because not gonna lie, i’d love to see you in a dress.”

"hmm, you wanna see me in a pink, ruffly dress?" miles teases you, smiling at the idea. "why didn't you tell me you were into cute boys in feminine outfits sooner, babe? cus’ i’d dress up for you whenever you want."

“you play too much,” choked out through the giggles as you shoved his shoulder. "hey now, i look amazing in a dress," he laughs. "but i do have an idea that includes both matching barbie costumes and me being your ken, if you're up for it."

miles smiles sweetly at you, his expression turning a little mischievous. “if you have an idea, please do tell,” you said in a sultry voice.

"i want to do what barbie and ken did in that one movie, where ken turns out to actually have superpowers too," miles explains excitedly. "but instead of us being the same superhero, like we both have super strength or super speed, we could be superheroes who complement each other."

you laughed im disbelief. ‘no way’ you thought, knowing exactly what he was thinking of.

he takes your hand, placing the other one on your cheeks and staring deeply into your eyes as he smiles at you. "what do you think?" miles whispers, leaning down toward you.

“you wanna be barbie and ken… from barbie princess power,” you recited slowly, a grin stretching across your face. “of course the one who is a superhero vigilante says this.”

miles' smile widens. "yes, princess power! that's exactly what i was talkin’ about," he says. "and come on, don't underestimate the barbie movies. most of them are really good, dare i say cinematic masterpieces!”

you mouthed an ‘okay’ as you rolled your eyes.

"if i'm your ken, you have to be my barbie," he says, moving his hands onto your waist and moving you up his lap. "the most iconic couple in the barbie universe, right here."

y’all outfits looked so funny but cute… like in a diy that didn’t go wrong typa way

and if you think for a minute mamita rio let y’all go without them facebook mom photos you’re sadly mistaken

"sonríe pa la foto!" rio yelled as the flash coming from her phone was almost blinding.

“mami, por favor-”

miles begging was not gonna get him anywhere with his mom.

“dios mío, you both look so cute,” rio gushed.

“señora morales…you’re too kind!”

miles dad gave you both the typical “y’all better not get into no trouble” parent speech and then you both was off

when i say he was fangirling over the barbie themed cups and popcorn… i mean it

he was taking photos of everything

the whole movie his mouth was wide open in awe

miles was actually so furious at ken he looked absolutely lost and physically upset watching that white piece of plastic run a muck in barbieland

“HE TALKIN’ TO BARBIE LIKE THAT??”

yes, he cried at the end… and at the middle… and a little at the start

at first he was just amazed with the cinematography

but then when they got to the real world? just seeing through the movies lens and it’s take on how modern society treats women based on the parallel barbie world like he felt so unreal

at the end, he was acting like those guys on tiktok that was treating the women in they lives like absolute QUEENS walking out the theater because of the perspective they got watching the movie

not that he didn’t treat you like that before, don’t get him wrong, it’s just that he felt the need like a bunch of other guys after watching the movie to apologizes for the system men have created

it was a little funny, especially because it has nothing to do with him and men doing this type of stuff is a little corny coming from the privilege of the gender, but you appreciated it nonetheless

if you cried during the movie tho? he is bear hugging you crazy and not letting go even after the barbie world credits end

you guys leave the theater holding hands and talking about the film and he is geeking out over all the symbolism and stuff this man watches titanic you know he’s a secret film bro

“i’m so sorry mi amor, that us men have failed our women-”

and there miles went, on a nonstop rant about how you are his queen and how much he loves the women in his life.

you ended up sleeping over at his place

with the door open of course… you know rio is watching.

he had so much fun with you tonight and you could tell by the way he slept with a big smile displayed on his face.

— PAVITR

you asked him and he was happily accepting before you even got the question fully out.

“pav!” you called out from behind him, pulling him in from the neck for a hug. “hey, i wanna ask you something. do you wanna-”

“yes.”

“wait… what? pav i didn’t even say anything yet? what if i’m about to say something completely criminal?” you asked in a teasing tone.

“hehe, yeah maybe i’m a little too excited to see you. what is it, love?”

his eyes looked at you so bright and full of love, it was almost distracting.

“can we go see the barbie movie? we can even wear all pink and match…”

you were gonna say more, but you didn’t have to.

pav was immediately saying yes to everything

until the fear sunk in…

"wait, but I don't have anything pink to wear!" pavitr exclaimed, sounding slightly distressed. "does that mean you won't go with me?" he asked, raising an eyebrow and giving you a teasing smile.

he knows you’d never do such a thing.

"you know, i don't usually dress in pink, but for you i'll make an exception!"

you suggested you both go shopping like a little couples date

it was chaotic to say the least… but just as fun !!

he was acting like a model with everything he put on and it got even worse when you let him look at the stuff you were putting on

absolutely whipped.

“my girlfriend is gorgeous! absolutely gorgeous!”

you thanked him again, and again, and again.

“pav, do you think you are india’s next top model? because you are not gaytari,” you teased for him not finding an outfit yet, landing a peck on his cheek as he giggled in response.

"i'II look my best for the movie," he added with a wink. "are you sure you can handle all this style?"

all you could do was roll your eyes.

y’all were almost late to the movie because of bro

but you weren’t.

for the movie he was similar to miles and just in awe

in the beginning he was rooting for ken because he thought he was just being a good service boyfriend

you can imagine pavitr heartbreak when he started talking about the patriarchy

“no, wait- KEN WHAT ARE YOU DOING I WAS ROOTING FOR YOU!”

man is anger sobbing

words cannot describe the physical anger he feels seeing ken talk to barbie in such a manner he was stunned at the switch up

he also loved all of ruth’s parts, thinks she carried the whole movie

was physically leaning backwards at the sad scenes just taking it all in

pavitr LOVED the movie

came out the theater a changed man.

“my amazing, sweetest, most caring girlfriend…the prettiest of all mumbattan,” he spoke as he got down on one leg.

‘oh boy’ you thought, preparing yourself.

“i promise you, i would never ever treat you like how ken did barbie. you are a breathtaking woman and deserve the world-”

there goes another speech.

he walked you home like a true gentleman he smoking that ken pack and y’all talked about your favorite parts

pavitr overall had a really good time with you and enjoyed the message of the movie

— HOBIE

hobie is not and i repeat NOT watching that atomic bomb glorification story

but a movie about the patriarchy and double standard against women that hurts both genders based on the system men built through a satire film that is actually very political and has a message? yeah he’s going

when you told him tho not gonna lie he was gonna clown you

“barbie? like that lil white girl… you sure you wanna go watch that, luv?”

once you told him about the plot and showed him the trailer bro was READY to go

the set up of barbie world being a parallel to modern society was music to his ears

“really? i didn’t really expect allat comin’ from that bird. ight then, i’ll go. now i'm kinda curious.”

yes, he dresses up with you.

hobie is a punk icon… you know gender does not define him and he doesn’t care about breaking the “rules” of fashion of bit

so what does he dress as?

erika from rock n royals barbie.

guitar included.

you? well it’s a couple costume YOU'RE GONNA BE HIS COURTNEY

it’s not like you guys wore an exact replica of the outfits it was just heavily inspired fits

y’all looked cute as hell tho trust

“hobie, i can feel you staring,” you told him as you fixed up your makeup in your mirror.

it was true, you could feel him staring at you. heavy.

you looked to the side of your mirror and indeed saw him eyeing your figure with a soft smirk as he leaned against your bed frame. “what, not allowed to look at my girl now? since when?”

he was teasing and he knew it was making you flustered just by how your face was heating up.

his outfit isn’t too far out of bounds of what we would normally wear, but you couldn’t lie and say that the new colors didn’t fit him. the purple and the blue accents of his outfit, the leather jacket, the black eyeshadow with glitter that he surprisingly let you do, just everything about him looked so good.

hobie walked up behind you and put his hands on your hips, guiding your body closer to his as he watched your hands freeze applying your lip liner.

“don’t stop cus’ of me,” he spoke sheepishly.

you continued and shortly after finished up. his eyes still stared silently at you, admiring your beauty. “looking again, hobie? y’know i hope you pay attention to this movie…”

“i am,” he admitted with no shame, “you’re the prettiest gal i’ve seen. not gonna deny that.”

he pressed a slow, open mouth kiss on your shoulder as he rested his head in the crook of your neck. his breath was warm against your chilled skin.

“shall we get goin’ now?”

he payed attention to the movie but he couldn’t help wrapping a arm around your shoulder and making little comments in your ear

hobie got quiet tho towards the middle because he genuinely got invested once her feet turned flat and barbie met the ceo

but once the movie started getting deep… BOYY the look on this mans face he was stunned, appalled, baffled, gobsmacked even at ken

and then the speech about women? lawd.

he didn’t cry at all during the final sequence and if anything i think he was confused…

“wait that’s the lady from before that was makin tea, innit?”

“yes hobie.”

“holdup, where the granny go? what’s with the white void?”

“HOBIE-”

don’t get it twisted tho he understood the film and thought it was beautifully done

y’all talked about all the topics afterwards and let’s just say bro hates kens and is angry that nobody told them shit

“are they mad? they must be cus’ no way after everything that happened they just gon forgive the man for being a raging misogynist… they had the girls wearing maid costumes and not one apology was heard man that’s insane!”

hobie smoking that ken pack

he enjoyed the movie but what made him enjoy it was doing it with you <33

— MIGUEL

you know you had to ask him.

bro was not considering anything that would take him away from his work or distract him because he feels he doesn’t have time for that

and the crazy thing is that miguel knows about the hype about the movie and the whole barbie core pink mania

but of course he gonna act like he don’t and got better things to do.

“do you wanna see the barbie movie with me?”

those the words that stopped the gears turning in his head.

“excuse me?” miguel asked, looking up from his report with furrowed brows as his forehead already began to crease.

you wanted to dwell on the fact that he is getting annoyed before you even got to explain yourself, but you pushed it to the back of your mind. no, you couldn’t let him get push you away this time.

“you heard me, miguel. c’mon, the movie with margot robbie! and did i mention barbie? one of the most popular dolls? don’t act stupid,” you told him, walking over and wrapping your arms around his neck to hug him close from behind as he sat. “you don’t think it would be fun?”

he pinches the bridge of his nose, knowing what you’re about to get him into.

“mi vida…” you hear him sigh, quietly in almost a cut-it-out type of tone. he moves his head to the side and you can practically feel the confusion behind the glare. “you’re joking.”

you move one of your hands to your heart. “miguel!” you gasped playful, “this is a serious matter. why would i even joke about watching a movie with you?”

“because there's no way you're being serious. you don't go looking for me to see a barbie movie. especially one you know i'll refuse,” he replies, his voice stern.

“but-”

"Is this some sort of elaborate humiliation attempt?"

“NO!”

"... you're serious, aren't you? what's in it for me? i mean, it's a barbie movie."

you explain to him the premise and he still acts like this whole thing is stupid and you have no business trying to see this movie with him

but he can’t lie, he’s intrigued.

he kinda wants to see it.

and he’s trying his best to hide it.

"okay… what time?" he asked, defeated.

“really, my begging actually worked? thank god because i already brought two tickets and it would’ve been sad showing up alone,” you confessed.

“you bought them? already?” he repeated, caught off guard by how ready you were. “and what time are they for?"

“7:30.”

“fine, fine. but i'm holding you to your word. If it turns out this is some kind of elaborate scheme, you'll be hearing about it."

he’s so suspicious for no reason

now when it came to outfits… yeah you know miguel owns no pink whatsoever

you didn’t even know he knew about the pink craze or even wanted to play into it until he let it slip

"what am i supposed to wear then? i don't own anything pink.”

“it’s fine we’ll go shoppin- wait who said anything about pink outfits to you?”

you started making fun of him but then he threatened to take back saying he was going with you and told you that you’d be sitting in a theater all by yourself

but then you brought up again how he was ready to wear pink for you and he had a little slip up

"n-no? i mean, I could… if i’m gonna go see this thing with you and it your way, might as well commit right?”

his facade was slipping, this was golden. “so you will wear pink?”

the mischievous look on your face made him annoyed but he knew what he was getting into.

“i said i could, not that i’m going to. don’t get your hopes up chiquita."

he did end up wearing pink

little said he know you were plotting something against him

it started off nice… simple.

it was white pants with a pink button up

you told him for a “pop of color” he should wear a green blazer

sound familiar? because you were planning a scheme YOU DRESSED HIM AS SUGAR DADDY KEN

it was for shits and giggles

he had no idea until it was all paid for and safe to tell him before miguel made you fix his outfit

he’s ore than a little surprised, and not really sure how to react. miguel takes a look at the outfit, and does his best to try and hold back a chuckle.

"this... is a joke. there's no way you're serious about me wearing this, is there?”

“put. it. on.”

he does a low sighs and take the outfit from you. "fine, only because it's you."

it didn’t take him long to finish in the changing room, and when he stepped out you were enchanted by the sight.

“happy?”

yes. indeed you were very happy.

he was paying for everything of course like the sugar daddy he doesn’t know he is

he had his arms crossed, sat down legs spread, watching you change into different pink outfits and rating telling you how he thought you looked

you’d do little spins for miguel

“muy bella.” “you look gorgeous.” “i like that one, fits you nicely.”

you ended up leaving and going to the movie and while on your way there decided to tell him about his little outfit.

“you wanna know a secret, miggy?” you ask him with a grin.

he raises a brown at you, “i feel like you're gonna tell me regardless, so i'm gonna say yes.”

you say nothing, you just pull up a photo of sugar daddy ken and show it to him.

as his eyes flicker to the screen, you see the light amusement fade away from his expression as it turns to one of genuine confusion and horror. miguel’s hand moves subconsciously to the green blazer, as the fear sets in that he recognizes exactly what the outfit is referring to. “you didn’t…”

“but i did.”

“you. you are a bad person.”

truth be told, he really liked the movie

miguel just really liked the message like it made it him think of all the women that were and are in his life like you and all the other girls he’s wronged before you iykyk

but it also made him sad because it reminded him of gabriella

just thinking about all the muñequitas she use to play with before it happens

all the dress up games they use to play, when he pretended to be whatever doll he picked for her to play pretend scenarios with her dream house

it also made him sad to think of the strong, independent woman she wouldn’t become if it wasn’t for him

he didn’t tear up, no not at all.

but by the empty look on his face you could tell just how he was feeling

you put a hand over his as the audience laughed at the screen. “miguel, you okay? you know we can leave if that’s what you want.”

he just turned, put his hand over yours and gave it a squeeze. “no, no… i’m fine. don't worry.”

you guys had a good time and you swore you could see a small smile stretch across his face during some moments

he genuinely wanted to talk about the movie with you for hours but the man does have to sleep at some point

“hey, i just wanted to thank you for uh… convincing me to see a barbie movie. yeah, it sounded ridiculous and thought you were trying to find some way to mess with me for my attention. but, i really did enjoy spending time with you. just felt compelled to tell you that is all.”

miguel holds his heavy responsibility of the universe on his shoulders and is filled with grief

he doesn’t do this with the intent to tell people how to live their lives, but to try and protect what he couldn’t

so yeah, he’s glad you could give him some relief from the day

A/N: hey guys… i feel it’s been a minute but this took so long and it’s my first time writing for all of them beside gwen so im scared it’s gonna sound like shit so ??? i hope y’all enjoyed tho 🫶 BARBIE WAS SO GOOD

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pedge-page · 1 month

Note

Imagine baby Sarah arguing with Joel in whatever language she speaks excepting Joel to be hurt from her gibberish

Joel Dealing with SARAH - Language Barrier

- - - -

"RaRa seshu. Beet Dada."

Sarah goes into a fit of wiggling in Joel's arms as he hoists her to the front door.

I don't know what that means but youre putting your shoes on. Right. Now."

He sets her on her butt, but the little brat starts speed crawling away. He snags her foot and drags her back, grabbing her first sparked pair of little bitty bedazzled pink tennis shoes and cramming it on her foot.

"No!"

"Yes!"

Et--nooo!" She shouts louder, trying all her might to get the first shoe off.

"Yess!" He yanks the ties tight so she can't rip it off so soon.

"Ef fee nogos! Noo! Let RARA!" She shouts, yanking her foot from his hand yet again.

"RaRa baba yaya nothin till she gets her shoes on," he notes, quickly trying to grab the other shoe. She manages to drag the first one half off by the heel, but Joel catches it and forces it back on much go her chagrin.

"Dada boof dooey!" She shrieks with an angry growl.

Joel would have tuned it out had you not shouted from the kitchen "Sarah! Don't call daddy a big dummy! Not nice!"

Joel gasps "Ya big meanie!"

"YA bee NENE!" She mimics.

She sticks her tongue out at him and he does the same back at her.

She groans, arching her back on the floor to try to get Joel's hands off her.

Sarah keeps squirming out of his grasps and trying to rip her left shoe off. Joel has the other shoe in his mouth, laces hanging from is teeth as both hands try to grasp the wiggling worm of his daughter.

There's so much raucus fron the entryway you end breakfast early to see the fuss.

With a bagel half out your mouth, you brush by Joel and Sarah wresting one another by the shoe rack. One look at the situation and you almost would laugh were it not for the wad of cream cheese you don't want to lose.

You kneel down, rip off the shoe wedged on Sarah's foot and then snatch the one hanging out Joel's lips.

"Hey!" He's about to protest how long it took weld that one shoe on already but you droop both heels in front of his eyes--and cross the positions so that her LEFT shoe is lined with her LEFT foot, and RIGHT shoe on the RIGHT.

"Oh"

You rub his affectionately like a silly puppy. "Perr boof dooey," you giggle with the bread and smear on your tongue.

"Bye mama!" She waves cheerfully and does a little playful finger gun at you.

You finger gun her back with a wink and wave before letting the door close.

Sarah looks back at Joel, who's still coming to terms with how little attention he paid to putting the wrong shoes on her feet uncomfortably. "Dada boof dooey." She folds her arms and scowls at him.

"Just remember who bought these shoes."

"Mama" she clarifies.

He sits back on his haunches. "So you can understand English ya just don't speak it. Fine. Put ya own shoes on then girlie."

Sarah shrugs and carefully slips her feet into the correct shoe with no fuss. She then dangles her toes in his face.

"Dada --" she swirls her fingers together in a loop to indicate a tie, a scheming grin on her face

"Mmmhm. That's called a tie. And the word I'm lookin for is 'please'"

"Dada die peas!"

He growls, knowing full well she knows the difference in her words.

"Fine. RaRa no Love DaDa. I go bye bye." He fakes a sniffle, gets up and walks past her towards the front door.

Sarah panics and grabs his ankle "NO! DADDY!" Her eyes quickly well up, so much guilt building inside her overwhelming the senses. Her little arm is outstretched towards Joel, face scrunching up and ready to turn into a siren of crying.

"Gimme hug, jellybean," he says calmly, hoisting her into his arms and she sobs and hugs him. "Better?"

She nods and wipes her nose on his shirt.

"Can we put our shoes on now?"

She nods again, this time sitting patiently still as Joel spends the next 10 minutes untying and retying her tiny laces that his big fat fingers can't seem to loop properly.

Eventually Sarah does get creative and starts making up her own slang words that have no direct English translation, but fully getting away with saying things to Joel while he just goes about his business thinking it's jibberish.

It is, but she doesn't know it.

#joel dealing with preggo wife #joel and sarah #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fan fiction #joel the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #last of us fanfiction #joel miller fic #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fluff #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #the last of us fluff #the last of us fic #last of us fic

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morallyinept · 4 months

Text

Rockford & Roses - A Detective Tim Rockford One Shot 🌹

Summary: Tim's coming home to you on Valentine's night with a heavy heart and secrets that threaten to tear you apart. Can your love for him survive the ghosts of his past that still haunt him? More importantly, are you willing to make room for them in your already strained marriage?

Pairing: Det. Tim Rockford x Wife!Reader (No name or physical description of reader. It’s you, bub.)

Word Count: 5k-ish

Scoville Smut Rating: None, it's fluff. Mostly angst. Definite angst. You're safe. Kinda.

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here.

Warnings/Triggers: Alludes to smut, nothing detailed/mentions details of a case involving the murder of a child, nothing too graphic/alcoholism/A N G S T in abundance/some dark themes in the sense that Tim is self-destructing. Tim is very a broken man, poor lamb. Give him a hug, will you?

I write for me, and I share with you. If this story isn't to your taste, that's fine. Just slip quietly out the back door. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.

Author’s Note: This story evolved massively from the direction it was going in originally, and I'm actually kinda pleased about that... It's something different from your typical, "schmoozy" Valentine's Day story, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless.🌹

MAIN MASTERLIST | TIM ROCKFORD MASTERLIST | FLORA & FAUNA MASTERLIST

Enjoy! 🖤

Detective Tim Rockford had been sober for almost a year when it all fell apart completely on that terrible night.

But it wasn’t until the winter was in its latter stages, that he would tip fully over the edge into regular, almost daily, bouts of oblivion to keep himself from falling off the ledge completely.

To keep the nightmares and sense of guilt that he drowned in on a near constant basis at bay.

He unscrews the cap from the bottle of dark amber liquid he’s craftily been hiding under the seat in his car, and swallows it all back letting it slip down his throat.

Without him giving it permission to, his mind replays over the events from that fateful night, four years ago, and is brought back to the little girl lying at the bottom of the ravine just off of the ridge.

A call had come in about a missing child on the morning in question, and he and his partner Peter ‘Petey’ Harman went over to the home of the parents to talk to them about it. You know, do the initial questioning; worker bee stuff. Try to suss out if she was a regular runaway or if in fact one of them had stuffed her under the foundations and was crying wolf.

The family home was nice; an average run-of-the-mill house, in an average run-of-the-mill neighbourhood. Tim was presented with a photo of her from her mother and he remembered thinking that he’d missed his chance to be a father, to watch your belly swell and witness the miracle of life forged from your love, and it left a bitter taste.

She was cute as a button; all brown hair and freckles, and she had this blue, silk princess-dress, with lace collars and cuffs, wearing a gonky smile that was missing a tooth or three.

‘Find my baby, please Tim.’ Her mother had begged him whilst Harman took down the notes - he was good with that stuff - and Tim promised her that he would - knowing that a detective should never promise that - if it was the last thing he ever did. Not knowing that he would actually make good on that word further down the line.

Looking again at the picture, he learned it was her favourite dress, her mother had said it through the red eyes that she wore that pretty dress everywhere, and that she turned into the spawn of Satan himself when she tried to get her out of it so it could be cleaned.

It was also the same dress Tim had found her wearing when he discovered her remains.

The search had been dragged out as much as it could be, but there was no trace of her. Leads had been exhausted; those pulled in for questioning were found innocent and their alibis solid.

It was as if Rainie Thompson had vanished off the surface of the planet in a click of a finger.

The search efforts began to die off around the four week point, mostly due to the heavy snow settling in and it pained him to know that everyone was giving up on finding this little girl - a little girl that he was convinced was still alive - she just had to be; he could feel it in his gut.

Some perverted bastard had her and he was determined to make them feed from a tube for their rest of their life when he found them.

Tim was determined to find her, despite his colleagues and even Harman at times, convincing him it was a lost cause. He’d been spending most of his time - including down time - combing the woods, the parks - everywhere and anywhere he could think to try and find her.

Where are you, baby? She consumed him wholly.

She was what kept your husband away from you.

Left you sat at the dining table alone, with an uneaten plate opposite you and a creeping draft settling into your bones. The creaky sounds of the house seemed louder when you were alone, and soon they were your only companion; their creaks soon turning into words of comfort at an absent husband.

Tim left the space in the bed vacant, crease-free and cold beside you.

Tim’s whole world had come tumbling down when he’d picked Rainie up and cradled her small, cold body to his chest and wailed like he had lost his own beau.

No, baby... no.

He cursed up to the sky, as though having it out with God himself - God, who had allowed this innocent, beautiful child to die.

Tim wasn’t exactly devout or the God-fearing type. He’d been to church only a handful of times in his life; to marry you being the most notable, but after that day he’d especially not been back to a church since.

This is how faith dies in a person; violated and fractured. Altered and hollowed out from the inside and everything pure and good is obliterated by the poisoning fingers of the darkness in the world, wrapping their hands tightly around its neck and simply snapping it in two.

Fuck you, God! Damn you, you son of a bitch!

She had been thrown down in there like a puppet whose strings had become entangled with themselves; she was six-years-old.

Rainie Thompson was six-years-old and she had a little, blue dress and played Hopscotch and liked drawing pictures of red roses, and eating chocolate ice-cream until her tummy hurt.

Rainie Thompson was the one who killed him.

Tim cried through the drinking, mourning her like his own and mourning the part of him that was dying with her; a hollow husk of a man soon to be filled by the familiar numbing void that alcohol had to offer.

It would make him forget the horror; forget the depravity, although the nightmares would never relent, he would be certain of that - they never do.

To date, he hasn’t found the killer and it’s been four years. A one-off, grisly murder that hinted at possible cannibalism, but later was discovered she’d been partly eaten by a wild animal scavenging; it left very little in the way of clues or evidence, because there was very little of her left.

Most of his team concluded it absolutely was an animal of some kind, a cougar happened upon her perhaps, or a bear after she'd wandered off? But Tim did not quite believe that - they didn’t see her.

It’s changed him, changed something within Tim to see the world for what it is. The band-aid has been ripped off and once you see that shit, you can never unsee it again.

And Tim's seen some pretty fucked up shit in his career.

He closed up, closed off and began unknowingly cementing the spiralling destruction that was to be his life. He’s fifty-eight and has nothing anymore.

Well, that’s not entirely true, he has you.

Despite the distance that has grown between you, evolving from carnal desire to ships passing silently in the night, you remain steadfast in your love for Tim, silently supporting him as he battles the demons that threaten to consume him wholly.

Yet he can’t help but feel that he's condemned you already in some ways. Watching as those demons hold you down and tear pieces from you until, one day, they'll be nothing left.

The wife of a gritty detective doesn't bode well in a happily ever after.

His decades long career is the reluctant third wheel in your marriage, and at first you admired his dedication; his passion to solving mysteries. Getting excited yourself when he'd use the dining room walls to gather his thought maps, pinning up mug shots, red thread lines linking people and place and circumstance. Weapons of choice like an elaborate game of Clue.

And he'd talk to you about them in those early days, the tamer cases he had. Mugs of coffee and thoughtful kisses exchanged as you offered your opinion and challenged his thinking.

Now it's getting harder not to resent that damn gold badge.

He swigs again at the bottle. It feels good; the warm, numbing sensation flooding through his veins down both his arms and legs. The giddy onslaught of amnesia begins to twinkle around the edges of alert thinking as he slowly succumbs to the light buzz.

He closes his eyes and lets himself teeter on the edge of it, welcoming the calmness like an old friend.

His first heavy session had led to his first blackout and it had scared him; scared him that he could lose a chunk of time that was unaccounted for out of his life - waking up at home fully clothed in the armchair, sometimes the kitchen floor, knowing he'd driven severely under the influence, and equally amazed and relieved that he hadn’t killed anybody in the process. They would take his badge for that recklessness if they knew.

No-one knew. Or if they did, they never mentioned it.

But it wasn’t enough to stop him. It got him through the paralysing fear of handling those dark days, which were particularly brutal, and the other fucked up cases he’d had to solve since.

They tell you; tell you that it will be difficult and bad, but you’re never prepared for it.

His father never prepared him for that shit and was right when he said he hadn’t got the cajones to be a police officer all those years ago.

His father headed up the ranks of Chief in a suburban precinct elsewhere and eventually made Commander, like Tim knew he would, probably just to spite him. He also told Tim in no uncertain terms that he wasn’t "Commander material." Hell, he wasn’t even Detective’s material, and for a while, Tim believed sincerely that he was right.

Although, he’s six feet under now, so what the Hell does he know? Shot in the back during a supermarket raid gone awry when he’d popped out to buy a newspaper and a some smokes. Commander John Rockford shot by a drugged up lil’ pipsqueak looking to get cash for his next score - what a legacy!

His death left a nice, fat pension for his mother who squandered most of it on a gambling addiction that she’d always had looming in the background of his childhood; the root of many a ferocious argument witnessed between his parents when they thought he was tucked up in bed, and he could literally hear the punch from his father’s fist make contact with his mother’s jaw.

But that didn’t stop the fact that his words clung to Tim like a bad shadow most days, even now, long after his theatrical send off like he was a Goddamned hero or something. He wasn’t; he was a mean little asshole with a bad temper and Tim had been glad to see the back of him, too sloshed to remember much of the funeral at all and cutting his no good mother out of his life soon after.

Tim swigs from the bottle once more, the sting dying out slowly and melting into an alkaline that soon tastes of nothing. It’s all nothing; emptiness and voids that are getting harder to fill. Disassociating himself from his shitty past life; from his first wife and her erratic behaviour, which took him years to figure out, was probably his erratic behaviour that had pushed her away and out of their home for good, not that he’d truly cared to notice.

Work all but consumed him. And he was happy to let it.

Of course, he’d gone to AA; out of town where nobody would know who he was - an upstanding pillar of the community, yeah right - talking about your problems, laying them all out there in front of a bunch of strangers who were just as fucked up as you were, was difficult because, up until that point Tim had never recognised or considered that he had a problem; just a mechanism he relied upon that helped him cope.

Having to take a moral inventory of himself and dig into the suppressed emotions he was hanging onto, and using them as an excuse to inebriate himself through the day, was hard.

The hardest thing he'd ever done, doubting he was strong enough to climb those twelve steps - and he wasn’t even really sure that he wanted to.

But he did; was sober for a while, until Rainie Thompson obliterated him.

He takes another quick swig after spotting Harman coming out the Gas n’ Guzzle and shoves it back under the seat covertly.

Harman finds Tim sitting as he left him, squeezing the steering wheel inside of his deft hands, over and over, trying to make sense of everything and when exactly the world had become such a terrible and unforgiving place - but is coming up short.

Gas stations are the most uninspiring places to get a decent cuisine that won’t make you shit ten tons the next day, but it's late; Detective Petey Harman is tired and hungry for just about anything right now, no matter how crappy it would taste or make him feel in twelve hours’ time as it burns through its exit out of his anal passage.

Once back inside the car, Tim scrutinises the large brown paper bag filled to the brim that Petey rifles around in, before pulling out a dire looking sandwich and handing it to his senior.

“You planning a sleepover with your girly friends or summin’?” Tim questions him.

There are several boxes of microwave pizzas, a bag of extra-large puffy marshmallows, various microwaveable meats in packet sauces that look questionable in their paleness, a jar of chocolate dipping spread and a large bottle of orange and pineapple Cactus Cooler.

“Nah... No girly friends for me.” Petey says, sombrely. “Weekly shop.”

“Well, watch your damned cholesterol.” Tim tears into the plastic packaging to be met with disappointment the moment he puts the sandwich in his mouth.

Petey can smell the waft of alcohol lingering in the car but he doesn’t mention it. Just like all the other times he's smelt it coming out of Tim’s mouth when he speaks, making his eyes water.

Petey was not long into being a newbie; a junior ranking officer in the department and up until a year ago or so now, had been making pretty good at busting low-level criminals successfully, to the point that he hadn’t really taken the gig that seriously, thinking at times he was invincible.

So much so that he had his thumbs in his belt loops and his shooter on show proudly like they do in Miami Vice as he and his reluctant mentor Tim, solved bleak mysteries together.

They’d stopped in for a burger break at Lafferty’s Grill on the day of Rainie being reported missing; talking about the pretty waitress giving Petey a lingering smile, and Tim trying to persuade him that he actually had a pair of balls and should use them to go and talk to her.

Instead, Tim was mirthed with disappointment as Petey's cheeks flushed a crimson red as he stared into his laminated menu, tacky with barbecue sauce residue, and tucking said balls firmly inside himself.

Petey had to grow up fast; he knew that the moment he’d heard Tim yelling at him crazily when he’d found the child’s remains whilst they scouted around for her aimlessly one night after Tim was trying for weeks to hold it together.

It was an image that still gave Petey nightmares, and the sounds of Tim sobbing still made his blood run cold when he thought about it, but it was far less frequent now.

He’d been promoted since to Detective, taking the job more seriously and knuckling down; his life coming up roses whilst Tim’s fell out the bottom of his ass.

Speaking of roses, Tim looks up mid-chew on something that the label assures him is tuna fish, and spots something red and velvety clustered in the window of the gas station.

He spies the date on the radio and sighs out heavily, tossing the sandwich back in the plastic packaging.

“Shit.” He mutters.

“You good? I got a BLT if you want that instead?” Petey asks.

"No. Fuck no. Wait, you gave me the shitty tuna when you had bacon?" Tim frowns.

"Was gonna save it."

With that, Tim exits the car, the driver side door squeaking on his beaten Pontiac and his trench coat billowing in the wind as he makes his way inside the gas station.

The fluorescent lights flicker overhead, casting a harsh glare over the rows of snacks and drinks lining the shelves. His weary eyes fall upon the sad display of the florals. A few wilted roses, their once vibrant petals drooping with neglect, sitting haphazardly in a cheap plastic bucket.

Tim grimaces, knowing they’re far from the bouquet you deserve.

His mind flashes back to the drawings of roses on Rainie Thompson's bedroom wall and how, for a time, they engulfed him, tracing his fingers over the waxy ridges of their messy circles.

Tim was sitting on her bed, clutching a stuffed bear with a plaid neckerchief that smelled of talc and her mother informed him the bear's name: Tim. Or Timmy. Timmy the Teddy.

He remembers squeezing that damn bear tightly as he took in the surroundings of the little girl's room, trying to work out where she was - where are you, baby? - When he spotted the drawings.

He kept one, pulling it off the wall and folding it neatly into squares until it fit in his wallet. A reminder that she would be with him, crying in his ear for him to bring her back home to her mommy and daddy.

She never stopped crying and wailing in his ear; the pitch growing until he drowned it out with the booze.

He remembers the pictures, full of clumsy scribbles, bulbs of red crayon petals and skinny green stalks. Kind of how the roses look now in the bucket staring out at him; a sad little gift from beyond the grave in their macabre despair.

He hears it again now, that crying, right beside him. He squeezes his eyes shut, a few moments of forcing it into white noise.

With a resigned sigh, he plucks a handful of the least wilted roses from the bucket and makes his way to the counter. The clerk eyes him curiously as Tim approaches, a knowing smirk playing at the corners of their lips.

Tim ignores the silent judgement, focusing instead on paying for the flowers and grabbing a bottle of wine from the shelf by the counter. The wine selection is vastly limited, but he purchases a bottle of red without giving it much thought and hoping it won't taste like sharp vinegar.

He pays for his thoughtlessness, and hurries back to his car, the weight of his guilt and exhaustion pressing down on him like crushing lead.

“Get out,” he gruffs to Petey as he starts the engine.

Petey gulps down his sandwich with a splutter. “What?”

“You’re walkin’ home tonight.” Tim announces with eyebrows knitted, and Petey rolls his eyes, fumbling with his shopping and splitting the bag in the process.

"Aww man. You're kidding me?"

"I gotta get home. You didn't tell me it was fuckin' Valentine's." Tim scowls.

"Big deal. It's just another day." And Tim can hear the bitterness of being single and alone awash in Petey's mouth with stale bread, lettuce and bacon.

"Out." Tim presses.

“Roses won’t cut it this time, Tim.” Petey whines, as Tim reverses before he can even shut the door.

He’s right. Despite his bumbling ineptitude, Petey’s right - it won’t cut it.

Tim can’t even believe the sight of the wilted roses sitting on the passenger seat, mocking him and reminding him of all of his failings to you. It wasn't always like this, he's sure of it. Somewhere in the recesses of his tempestuous mind, he knows you were happy; he made you happy at some point, right?

He remembers how happy you were when you exchanged vows and gold bands, gorgeous in your little lace smock dress, beaming up at him. Fuck, it seems like a lifetime ago.

Burgers and beers on the bonnet of his car, he had a chevy back then, and watching breathtaking sunsets, and going to the movies when he was off duty.

He would bring you roses then. Fluffy, sumptuous blooms that almost guaranteed him a bigger helping of your cherry pie with the perfect, sweet crust, and extra kisses that led to him detaining you in the sheets, reminding you that you had the right to remain loud, to scream his name when he made you come.

He brought you real roses back then. Not these... weeds.

It’s late, almost midnight which ironically, is the earliest Tim has been home in a long time.

With a deep breath, he gathers the roses in his arms and makes his way to the front door. As he pushes it open and steps into the warmth of your shared home, the scent of your perfume catches his nose making it twitch.

He remembers that scent, like a sucker punch to the jaw. As he inhales deeply, the memories come flooding back, transporting him to a time when life was simpler, when the weight of the world hadn't yet settled upon his broad shoulders.

He can almost feel the warmth of your hand in his, your laughter echoing in his ears like sheet music. The feel of his cock inside your wet tightness as he fucked you into the mattress and you clawed at the expanse of his back leaving red welts on his skin from your nails for days after.

You couldn't get enough of each other once, and now you're barely strangers.

He steps into the deep bellows of the house searching for you, and finds you on the couch, wiping frantically at swollen eyes that have obviously been crying.

And the guilt drowns him instantly, crushing him like a tsunami as he sees you there, small and withered, worse than the roses he dared to bring home to you.

Looking down at them and frowning, Tim is disgusted with himself. He tosses them onto the table wanting to be free of the wretched things.

He longs to spend time with you, his darling wife, but the relentless pursuit of justice consumes every waking moment, pollutes every free thinking thought.

You can only watch from afar as Tim pours himself into the work, and pours himself another glass to compensate for the scars it leaves.

You know he’s haunted by the very vestiges of unsolved cases stacking up on his desk that he never talks to you about anymore. Closes the files of grisly crime scene photos before you have a chance to see them.

He protects you from his work now, but consequently, and unwittingly, protects you from him, too.

Each night, you would leave a warm meal on the table and wait anxiously for his return, hoping that he’ll come home early to eat with you, your heart heavy with worry and your hair turning whiter in the process.

More often than not, you dine with bitterness and disappointment.

Often, you’d wake in the early hours of the morning to find Tim slumped in his armchair, surrounded by case files; his brow furrowed in comatose concentration, glasses almost fully sliding off the bridge of his nose.

An empty bottle always rusticates beside him on the floor.

You can’t remember the last time Tim slept in your bed with you. The last time he held you in those strong, broad arms of his that you know he has hidden under that trench coat.

You can't remember the last time Tim made love to you and whispered how beautiful you are in your ear with whimpering grunts as he filled you up.

Tim is crestfallen as he steps forward, the faint glow of something flickering on the dining table pulls his sight.

A candle, close to being exhumed by the deathly kiss of its barely remaining wick, and unopened boxes of now cold Chinese take-out litter the table.

“I ordered your favourite. Number seventy-three with a side of nineteen.” You sniff. "I got extra twenty-two because they always give us an odd number."

“Darling, I...” Tim stops, for he knows nothing he can say can absolve this. On the most romantic night of the year, Tim has failed you, yet again. “I’m so sorry-”

“Don’t, Tim” you raise your hand shaking your head despondently. “Just don’t.”

"I didn't mean to be late. Not tonight.”

A small ghost of a smile evaporates on your lips. “You never mean to be late. Yet you always are.”

“The case-”

“It's not about the case, Tim," you say, your voice foggy with emotion. "It's about us. About the fact that you're always putting everything else before me."

He notes the roses again, bearing witness to his shame; their haggard state mocking him once more and he curses inwardly.

“I’m so, so sorry,” he approaches as you stand, arms wrapping around yourself and glass cutting tracks down your cheeks.

“I packed a bag…” You say as his eyes follow yours to a small suitcase in the hall that he didn’t even notice when he came in. passed right by it, oblivious. And he suddenly wonders what else he's been missing all these years, as it registers in his gut.

“No.” Tim states with a croak in his throat. He shakes his head vehemently. "No, darling."

Tim steps forward, the suitcase filling him with terrific dread. "You're leaving me?"

You're surprised that he's surprised.

But you shake your head, tears falling freely now. "I can't do this anymore, Tim," you say, your voice barely a whisper. "I can't keep waiting for you to come home to me. To open up to me and tell me what’s eating at you. I know it's something bad, something terrible. And I want to help, I do, I'm your wife. I want to make it better. But you make it so difficult. You push me away."

“To protect you.” He says with a low voice.

“Who's protecting you, Tim?"

"I don't-"

"I don't know who you are anymore. The man I fell in love with, he's... a ghost.”

“I…” words fail him as you look at him with a deep sadness that will stay etched on the thin fibre of his soul forever. A stain that won't wash out, no matter how much he scrubs.

You were the one. You're his one. And he's fucking losing you.

“Tell me, or I’m leaving... for good.” You warn. "If you ever cared about me at all, you'll tell me what's killing you. Please..."

You shake your head in despair, wiping your eyes harder now, when he doesn’t say anything. Just swallows the lumpy constriction in his throat and stares at you with hollow eyes.

"Goodbye, Tim." You sniffle.

“Rainie Thompson, she loved roses...” Tim mutters thickly as you approach the hall.

You stop, turning to face him.

"Who's Rainie Thompson?" You ask fearing the immediate worst.

You expect him to reveal to you that he's been unfaithful. That's he's not just been putting the hours in solely at work. That he brings roses - roses that are alive - to another woman. He eats her cherry pie now, fucks her into the mattress.

That he drinks because of the guilt of hurting you. But what he says instead alters a part of you that you don't think you'll ever get back.

“They look just how she drew them.” Tim says, his voice breaking, until his face caves in fully, features drowning in the onslaught of emotions, and for the first time you witness this unwavering man crumble completely.

And it terrifies you. For if he, the strongest man you've ever known, can break like this, what hope is there for you?

You rush to him as he collapses to his knees with a heavy thud, and wraps his arms around your waist, sobbing into the softness of your tummy.

You shush him and stroke your fingers through the greying curls, matted with sweat at the back of his neck. He holds onto you tighter than he’s ever done and you're afraid to let go of him.

Afraid that he won't ever stop bawling, as he mumbles incoherently and snottily into your abdomen.

Hours pass by, Valentine's Day gone in a blink of an eye, and you listen carefully and woefully as Tim recounts the haunting tale of Rainie Thompson, and how she's slowly killed the man you love.

You sit at the dining table with his thick, gun-calloused hands inside of yours, stroking over the ridges of his knuckles and listening to him swear to you that’ll get help with the drinking.

That he’ll take some leave and the two of you can go to the beach, or the lake, or somewhere where it can just be the two of you for a while.

Away from his cases, away from the horror of it all. Hell, he even mentions early retirement in his pertinent desperation, until you pat his hand gently and ground him with a stroking cup to his grizzled cheek.

You smile lightly as you gather the roses, and try to push aside your cynicism and wonder if you’ll regret not actually leaving tonight. Wonder if all what Tim has fed you is more empty promises when he'll eventually slip back into that expected monotony.

But you can see some swill of sincerity and regret inside the brown muddy pools of Tim’s tired eyes that you've never seen before.

He silently watches you pull the dead outer petals from the roses before placing them in a vase with fresh water.

“They’re already dead.” He mutters apologetically to you, shaking his head at the sight of them.

“Some things can come back to life, Tim, with some love.” You smile softly and Tim wants to just die in your arms right now.

“I don’t deserve you, darling.” Tim says, reaching for you.

He hasn’t yet taken off his trench, and you help it from his shoulders, the smell of worn leather from his holsters greeting you this close.

You've forgotten what he smells like as you inhale deeply. The scent of the leather leads a rugged and slightly musky undertone to his familiar aroma that’s swilled with coffee, cedarwood and sweat underscoring the gritty, primal edge to him.

You lick your lips as you graze your nose against the warmth of his neck, allowing him to finally crush you close to his broad chest, before the handle of his gun digs you uncomfortably in the breast.

He braces to kiss you, sweeping his lips delicately against yours, but you flinch. A reaction that slashes at Tim’s gut.

“Just hold me tonight, Tim.” You plead to him.

He nods, a solemn heaviness in his eyes as well as on his shoulders.

“I’ve missed you so much.” He admits.

Hearing him say it offers some vindication, but you know that these wounds need layers of bandages to be changed daily, and not some flimsy band-aids.

"I've missed you too."

“I’m so sorry for pushing you out. I don’t wanna lose you. I can’t. I’ll do whatever it takes. I promise.” He takes your hand and presses it to his mouth, the soft scruff of his facial hair feeling like gossamer, and you'd almost forgotten the feel of that too. “I love you.”

And when he says it, your emotions hiccup out of you and the tears fall again.

“I love you, Tim,” you whimper.

He takes you in his arms, those big, strong arms, and leads you upstairs to bed where he makes good on his word and doesn't let go of you all night.

You fall asleep listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat as he rubs your back gently, soothing you into sleep whilst he stays awake well into the night, staring up at the ceiling and trying not to listen to the dark thoughts urging him to finish that whole bottle of cheap wine downstairs.

He came so close to losing you today, on Valentine’s Day of all days, and he knows he has to do better. For all his faults, you love him and he spends the night pondering on that. Pondering when it was that he last slept in the bed with you, until his eyes fall heavy and he succumbs to a short, stunted sleep.

In the morning, he rises, stiff and aching from laying in the same position all night with you curled tightly in his arms. Amidst his back cracking and feeling stuffy in his slept-in crumpled button up and vest, Tim silently leaves the bedroom, careful not to wake you.

After pissing for what feels like an age, Tim catches sight of his face in the vanity mirror. White-gray stubble spreads across his chin and top lip, and the weary look of a man of the law that’s seen too much and knows too much weighing heavy around his sullen eyes, greets him.

He rummages in the vanity for some Tylenol and pops two in his mouth, swallowing them down without water. He re-shapes his oil slicked hair and tries to avoid the face looking back at him.

It knows all his terrible secrets, and now, so do you.

In the beginning the alcohol wouldn’t let him remember all the details, but its dropped its guard. The dreams were real; too real and he would find himself reliving the events each time he tried to get some damn shut eye.

He wasn’t supposed to keep seeing these things or to remember - it wasn’t part of the deal. Inebriation was supposed to wipe that shit out, but it'd failed to serve its purpose, instead serving as a beguiling wedge that expanded between you and him.

After descending the creaky stairs towards the kitchen, Tim passes the dining table en route to make some coffee; his tongue washing around dry, tight gums.

He spies his mobile and checks it out of habit; a message or two from Harman, one about a lead on one of their minor cases, and the other enquiring about his 'night of passion with the Mrs' and if it went well, and Tim simply scoffs. He makes a mental note to kick Harman when he sees him next. Preferably in the balls.

But out of the corner of his eye, Tim notices the vase of dead roses and stops to take in how they're now fully alive.

Overnight, their wilted petals have straightened and regained their vibrant colour, as if infused magically with a newfound vitality. The once drooping stems now stand tall and proud, their green leaves unfurling to reveal a lushness that seems to defy their previous state of neglect. Shades of crimson glow in the stale morning light, their hues deepening and intensifying the longer Tim takes them in.

Tim reaches for one, revelling in the soft velvet as he rubs it delicately between his finger and thumb. His eyes widen in disbelief at the transformation before him. It’s as if the flowers themselves are reaching out to him, a silent reminder of the resilience of your love and the power of forgiveness.

Some things can come back to life, Tim, with some love.

And Tim swears in that moment he’s never loved you more.

He swallows back a choke as he glances the wedidng photo of you both on the wall. Fuck, you looked so happy and beautiful that day.

Feeling a new sense of budding rejuvenation settling into his tired bones, a tiny bud, but one still seeding nonetheless, he turns towards the kitchen and then freezes, feeling it as his blood runs cold over his skin.

Prickles shoot down the back of his neck as he hears the sound, as clear as day. But it's different this time.

The haunting, yet wonderfully brilliant sound, of a little girl playfully giggling beside him.

Rainie Thompson isn't crying in his ear anymore, and Tim Rockford can't help but smile, closing his eyes as he listens to that sweet melody.

I found you, baby.

Thank you so much for reading. I'd love to know your thoughts and would appreciate a re-blog so others can enjoy this story too. Thank you! 🖤

MAIN MASTERLIST | TIM ROCKFORD MASTERLIST | FLORA & FAUNA MASTERLIST

#pedro pascal x reader #tim rockford x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #tim rockford #detective tim rockford #merge mansion #tim rockford fluff #tim rockford angst #valentines day #jett's writing #tw alchoholism #tw grief

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mysinsforventi · 9 months

Text

~ Lyney x f. reader Headcanons ~

(reader ISN'T traveller!!)

+ 18 (All characters in this are ADULTS!!) (Minors DNI!!)

Warnings: some lyney x reader x lynette (no incest!! Just sharing YOU!!), angst, anxiety mentioned, fatui lyney, blood mentioned, smut, oral sex, public sex, voyeurism, sex toys, hickeys, handcuffs, blindfold, dirty talk, a lot of kinks mentioned, control-freak lyney, dom lyney, sub reader, (let me know if I forgot something~)

~💜~💜~💜~💜~💜~💜~💜~💜~💜~💜~💜~

(Just something that came to my mind! That's all just my opinion! Feel free to disagree but don't come for me! Please enjoy~ ♡ )

~💜~💜~💜~💜~💜~💜~💜~💜~💜~💜~💜~

~💜~ SFW: ~💜~

- gives you a LOT of flowers

- doesn't mind pda in public (just don't do anything infront of father!)

- obsessed with kissing your hand (he is such a charmer lmao )

- while you walk no matter where to, wants to hold hands with you

- often let's you wear his hat, to him it's a symbol that you belong to him

- involves you in his magic tricks sometimes

- gets you lot's of suprises and gifts

- nicknames like: ma cherie, love, my lady

- loves to make you blush and fluestered

- a tease!

- even tho he is the 'playfull type' he has his moments where he is very serious

- talking about the past, angst topics and so one

- will stop talking when he realises that you started crying or fell asleep

- few minutes later he is back to his usual self

- likes to watch the stars with you

- you two have some secrets that he didn't even tell lynette or anyone else

- lyney can't sleep by himself, either you or lynette need to sleep by his side

- a journey geting to know the 'real him'

- Always complains how the morning is not right if he doesn't get to see you

- Always reserves a front seat for you in his his magic shows

- Never makes you pay anything, you have to trick him into taking your money lmao

- If you haven ightmares he would show you a magic trick and tell you a story to cheer you up

- Counts cats with you till you're deep asleep

- Gives you kisses on the forhead before going back to sleep himself

- very clingy in the morning, doesn't want to let you out of bed and hugs you tightly

- with you he actually laughs a lot, but it's his real laugh not his 'show-stage laugh'

- he wouldn't even notice until freminet would point it out

- lyney can get a bit jelaous if you spend to much time with one of his siblings

- As happy as he is to see his siblings make new friends and come out of their shell with you

- Sometimes lyney just wants you to himself, after all you are HIS partner

- In that times he hugs you from behind, tilts your head to him and kisses you on the lips infront of everyone

- making lynette complain to you geting a room lmao

~💜~💜~💜~

- One time you confused lynette for lyney as they practised for one of their tricks

- It was hilarious because lynette wanted to mess a bit with her brother, you known just tease him a bit

- So she played along, pretending to be lyney lmao

- Lyney walked into their living room just to you sitting on lynettes lap, cuddling and laughing with each other

- The man pouts as he walks up to you both, "Ahem!! I see you STILL can't tell us apart mhh? May I say that I'M THE REAL LYNEY HERE?!", he pouts, glaring at his sister

- "You're doing a bad job at showing it brother.. My dear love here would've totally fallen for me if you hadn't open their eyes~", lynette continues to imitate her brother perfectly, all without raising an eyebrow

- You were a blushing mess, jumping out of her lap and apologizing, you really did fall for that omg-

- lyney would just take your hand, bringing you to his room, wanting alone time with you now

~ 💜 ~ Fatui Lyney ~ 💜 ~

- You were aware of them beeing with the fatui but you didn't mind

- You just would be worried whenever lyney had to go and do his missions, wishing for his save return

- If you had a feeling it would be dangerous you decided to join him on his mission, going as his assistent

- of course, not in any record of the fatui your name appeared, so no one would know about your little help here and there, the siblings made sure about that

- and this whole situation leads to quiet the argument between lyney & you

- lyney wants to see you save! Like he wants to see lynette save!

- He got his delusion because his anxiety of leting lynette going alone to missions was killing him

- Now with you it's the same thing.. even if he would be there to protect you, sometimes it puts more pressure on him then doing good having you around on missions

- So you decided to only join if it was really 'dangerous' in your eyes

- Another reason is, lyney didn't tell you, he doesn't want you to see him like this

- It's the side he hates the most about him

- All the blood, the cold gaze in his eyes, the bitterness, he didn't like it and he didn't want lynette or you to see him like this

- You only deserve to see good things, beautiful things

~ 💜 ~ Sleepovers ~ 💜 ~

- sleepovers in their house (with lynette & freminet)

- them sneaking you at night into their house lmao

- with 'father' beeing one of the fatui habringers things aren't that easy okay-

- and sneaking you in isn't either

- first since lyneys & lynettes room is on the first floor, right next to the coffee shop..

// (( - (yes they share a room, because they can't stand to be apart for to long!) (Please don't make this weird! It's suppose to be a wholesome sibling moment! ♡ )) //

- sneaking into their room was a bad idea because some drunkards or noisy people from the coffee shop might call the guards on you.. mistaken you for a thief or a stalker..

- SOOO usually: You go to fremintes room which is right next to the siblings room, his window is a bit more hidden to the public view

- You knock twice, having your own knock-signals was lyneys idea! (please they even have their own sign-language! )

- freminte would open the window to his room, leting you climb in while he was going to tell the twins about your arrival

- freminte returing to his room with twins

- freminete closing his window, mumbling how cold it is but he is still happy to see you :)

- lynette und lyney both hug you gently as a greating

- lyney hugging you a bit longer, just a bit thighter, acting as if he hadn't seen you just hours ago at one of his magic shows

- after that you would sleepovers in lyney's & lynettes'a room

- freminete would join too, leaving early tho because introvert things and such-

- it always ends up with you sleeping in the middle somehow

- lyney cuddling to your one side, lynette to your other

- lynette purrs actually while falling asleep

- she loves it when you pet her head

- lyney beeing all pouty of not geting head-pats too

- "don't you think that is unfair? You have a great magican laying right next to you, I'll purr for you too you know?!", he wants your attention so badly..

- you give this a soft laugh and gently caressed over his head with your other hand

- this was also the first time you heard lynette laugh, it wasn't loud and not long but you would never forget how pretty she looked with a smile on her face

- lyney and lynette weren't open with that to just anyone, you are indeed a lucky one and you would treasure it forever

~💜~ NSFW: ~💜~

- if lyney & you want some privat time you two go 'usually' in your teapot..

- with usually I actually mean rarely lmao

- lyney is very much the risky, playfull type of guy

- he loves public sex, it's a showman's thing

- he loves all attention on him

- so most times you fuck somewhere in public

.. (the opera house, underwater in some quiet secluded area, on of the ruin-parts near the water of fontain-city, in the fontain at night, on one of the thrones in the gardens of the opers house, heck he did you even in their own house..)

- lynette & freminete were both out at that time! But usually you don't fuck there!

- lynette often tells you two to get a hotel room lmao (not that you two didn't do that, everytime 'father' is back.. YOU DO!!)

- he is a tease, with beeing a tease edging & overstimulation comes too, on you most likely

- he wouldn't mind the other way around but he is more comfortable with beeing a dom

- he likes having everything under his control, a magican needs always to be in control after all

- wouldn't mind toys but do you really need them when you got his fingers & tongue already??

- lyney is amazing at both, oral and fingering

- he brings you to heaven & back

- A dirty talker and sweet whisperer, he can say such dirty shit but gives you the sweetest compliments seconds later

- The type who would use a vibrator on you in public just to mess with you

- his chuckle and smirk send you.. why so hot??

- He has a lot of kinks, blindfolds & handcuffs are up there for sure

- would love to tie you up, blindfold you to show you his new magic~ (sorry-)

- After a mission was very dangerous or stressfull, he would go very rough on you

- It's a need for him to feel you close by, letting out all the pressure of keeping you save

- Leaves hickeys and bitemarks all over your body during that night

- Tells you how much he loves you over and over again

- His stamina isn't anything special but in those nights he would go all night, overstimulating himself

- That doesn't mean he couldn't go all night if he really would want to/you want to~

~💜~💜~💜~💜~💜~💜~💜~💜~💜~💜~💜~

(I'll make an extra nsfw headcanon list for lyney, there is to much lmao! Hope you enjoyed! ♡ )

#lyney smut #genshin lyney smut #genshin smut #lyney headcanons #lyney x reader #lyney fluff #lyney x you #lyney imagines #lyney scenarios #genshin impact smut #lynette x reader #lynette fluff #mysinsforventi

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miloformula123fan · 2 months

Note

Please write something with Ollie Bearman x childhood friend! reader. Her beeing there for his first race in f1 as a surprise after hearing that he's racing fo Ferrari. Reader just beeing super supportive, taking care of ollie, making him feel comfortable (like thinking about bringing his favourite snack, good playlist,...)

i wrote this as a blurb because i wanted to get it done on that weekend, but i didn't so i just ended up trying to get it out now

Please keep requesting - y'all have awesome ideas we agree on a lot of stuff :) - my guidelines are here, and if you want some prompts, they are here.

also feel free to come in and start chatting to me in my asks, would love to get to know y'all better

and if you want to be added to my taglist lmk :)

ollie bearman x childhood friend!fem!reader

---

So basically, reader was there to support ollie for prema at saudi, after a horrible first race in bahrain

And she’s there when ollie gets the call

Y’know how sometimes you pick up your friend’s phone calls by accident

Yeah she probably did that when fred called

She’s so supportive

Calming him down

Making sure he does extra warm ups

Handing him the helmet and hans device when he needs it

She tried to feed him until he nearly threw up from nerves

Makes sure he eats a massive dinner after qualifying and large breakfast and lunch before the race

She’s bringing the good playlist

All the hype songs

She was probably at the back of the garage stressing out with David

(we love david bearman)

She gives him a good luck hug

She was probably with prema trying to wave to him on the drivers parade

Making sure he’s staying cool with the ice vest

Making sure he’s staying on time to everything

She was honestly more surprised than ollie that he got the call

Like she obviously knew that carlos was unwell, but had assumed that someone else would get the call up

Not the kid who she’d grown up with from diapers

And how he was expected to perform in a very quick car

Nope, not her ollie

She was stressing through the national anthem

Thinking about all the things that could go wrong

And then he got P7

She started crying into David’s shoulder as he crossed the line

In the points and safe

She couldn’t stop crying and shaking as she hugged ollie, yelling over all the mechanics

He’d done it.

She calmed him down until he was in the car

And then david had to try and calm her down

And then ollie calmed her down once he was done and safe and sound

They had a dance party in his hotel room once he was finished

And then collapsed asleep

---

taglist: @leosxrealm, @tallrock35, @wolf-knights, @janeholt3

#f1 x reader #miloformula123fan #f1 fanfic #f1 blurb #f2 fanfic #f2 x female reader #f1 x female reader #f2 x reader #f2 blurb #ollie bearman x reader #ollie bearman blurb #ollie bearman #ollie bearman x female reader #ollie bearman x you #ollie bearman x y/n

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kiwicopia · 2 months

Note

Can we please have Megumi with a reader who just got cheated on? Maybe he's had a crush on her for a long time? 🫶🏿

Megumi x Fem!Reader

TW: mentions of cheating, childhood crush, fluffy ending.

He wanted to wring your ex's neck for what he did to you, but he knew better to waste time on trash. Beating someone up wasn't what you needed at the moment. What you needed was a shoulder to cry on and an ear to listen to your ranting, and Megumi would certainly be the one to provide all of that.

Still, even as you kept ranting about your ex and catching him in the act, it just made Megumi want to hurt him that much more, yet he fought the urge. Instead, he slid an arm around you and pulled you closer against his side. "You don't need him, anyway," he told you. The man held back a scoff when you mentioned not being able to find someone better. "You will. Anyone is better than that guy. We both know that."

Truth be told, Megumi never liked your ex. Why would he? Not only did he cheat on you, but the guy always made you cry. How could he ever like anyone that made his best friend cry? His blood boiled at the thought as his jaw clenched slightly, though he quickly calmed himself. "I want to egg his car," you mumbled.

Megumi's lips curled into a small smile. "Egg his car? I think we could do better than that. We could fill it with bees," he suggested. You giggle but immediately shook your head. "It wouldn't kill him, but it would hurt. He deserves it, you know."

"Yeah, but then he'd know who put the bees in his car."

"Not if you have an alibi," Megumi said. He was hellbent on doing something to your ex, but he knew you had to agree on the idea. "Could always use the jolly rancher method instead."

You chuckled and shook your head at the idea. "I feel like that would go horribly wrong for some reason."

"Oh, it will, for him," Megumi replied. You chuckled again, the sound pleasing to his ears. He missed hearing it. While you tossed out different ideas on how to get back at your cheating ex, he simply watched you, admiring you.

He had always felt wrong about loving you like he did, but he couldn't help it. Megumi had feelings for you, which anyone with eyes could see, but he always kept them buried down inside. Especially when you got a boyfriend. It was much harder keeping his feeling at bay then, but now that your ex was gone, he could let them out a little.

"What do you think, Megs?" You asked, your voice pulling him from his thoughts. "Good idea, right?"

He hadn't heard a single word you said, having lost himself in his own little thoughts about you, but he nodded. "Yeah, it's a good idea." His heart fluttered a little when you grinned and hugged his side, which only caused him to tighten his arm around you. "I love you," he whispered.

Megumi didn't mean to let it slip, but the moment was too good and pure to not let that thought loose. "You what?" You questioned.

"I love you," he repeated. Since the cat was out of the bag, Megumi felt just a little more confident with his confession. "I always have." His words were met by silence, and only then did he start to panic a little. What if he messed up? What if you didn't feel the same? What if you hated him for saying that?

"I love you, too, Megs," you smiled. Your words reassured him, and he mimicked your smile, only smaller. "I guess I've been denying it all these years."

Megumi hummed softly in response and nodded. "Well, you don't have to anymore." Maybe it was wrong since you were in such a vulnerable state, but he couldn't hold his feelings in long enough. Not while he had you in his arms like this. "I know I should've waited until you were better to tell, but it just slipped out."

"It's fine," you told him, burying your face into his side a little. His eyes softened and he let his fingers trace small circles against your arm. "I know you'd never hurt me."

That was the biggest difference between him and your ex. Your ex could cheat on you and make you cry without batting an eye. Megumi, on the other hand, would rather die than hurt you in any sort of way. It wasn't how he was brought up. That and he would get an earful from his sister if he ever did.

Megumi would be lying if he said he wasn't upset about the entire ordeal with your ex, but if not, then he never would have been able to tell you how he felt. Sure, he hated seeing you cry over someone as pathetic as your ex, but he enjoyed getting to be the one you came to, the one whose shoulder you cried on and, finally, the one he would love forever.

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stories4you04-x · 2 months

Text

Dearest Readers,

When overhearing being the wife of Anthony Bridgerton was like a dream I thought it wasnt true. A dream that one must dream of living. He is according to his wife the most caring and loving husband but when in public he is different. He had a different personality. A sense of regality one dreams of achieving. One that his newlywed wife Y/N could easily match for events and balls during the season. But this article is how he dropped this facade in public...

"Anthony do you feel up to a walk today the weather is ever so lovely" Y/N announced to her husband who was sat in a chair reading the book he was currently reading. "Yes the weather is lovely today I believe a walk would be quite nice" Anthony said whilst placing his bookmark in his book and settling it on the table beside him. It only took a few minutes for the newlywed pair to get ready.

They walked hand in hand in the local park which was surrounded with other people. As they walked people bowed or tipped their hats towards them as there was an aura of regalness that surrounded the pair. "Anthony look Hyacinths we must pick some for your mother she does love this flower" he smiled at the way she practically dragged him over towards the flowers. "Very well I guess we should mother has been feeling a little down recently maybe these can lift her spirits" she nodded and started to pick ones that looked big and full of life without a care in the world. However Anthony looked around and noticed a few bees buzzing around the flowers. "Y/N please be careful" she turned around to him "whatever for?" He looked panicked and said "there are bees" she smiled "they will be fine im not making them angry" she continued to pick them not realising the one she had picked had a bee nestled withing one of the flowers which travelled onto her collar bone.

Anthony had turned around to look at his wife as she had stopped to bask in the sun she smiled at him until she saw his face drop and she looked confused at him "Anthony whats wrong?" He shouted "Stay still please" His wife started walking towards him "why what's the matter my love?" He had tears in his eyes "please just stay still" she looked down as she felt something crawling on her and she realised a bee was on her collar. She wafted the bee for it to fly away. Anthony got scared as he heard her cry "ouch it stung me" he couldn't breathe "no no no no Y/N stay with me please" he pleaded holding onto her face "love what is the matter its just a sting I am fine" It wasnt until he was fully panicking on the floor within his wifes arms that he began to calm "but you got stung you could die" she seemed shocked at how he announced the statement "love you can't die from a sting unless the person is allergic" he calmed slightly "what can I do to get you to calm fully" he thought "can we get a doctor to check please my wife I can't loose you" she looked into his eyes as she held him "of course we will go straight away but let's enjoy the sun for a little longer"

She was getting a full body check by the doctor under Anthony's orders. He waited outside pacing back and forth whilst his two brothers benedict and Colin sat in the nearest chairs "Anthony sit down she is going to be fine" Colin pleaded. "No my wife is in there she got stung" he started panicking again until Benedict stood and grabbed Anthony's shoulder and forced him into the chair "she is going to be fine if something was to happen it would have happened by now so calm down and sit still for a few more minutes the doctor should be done soon" Benedict then sat in the other chair. Violet heard all the commotion upstairs and went to find out whatever was happening "sons what is happening?" Anthony stood and hugged his mother "Y/N got stung picking those Hyacinths for you downstairs and she is with the doctor right now she said she was ok but I'm scared I can loose her too mother" she placed a hand on his cheek as he released from the hug "Anthony your wife is a strong woman if she says she is ok then she is perfectly ok" he nodded and sat back down.

A few minutes later the door opened Anthony jumped out of his chair. The doctor said nothing but nodded towards the four standing at the door "go Anthony" his mother said pushing him towards the door. "Y/N love is everything ok the doctor said nothing" he walked towards the bed where she was laying "perfectly ok" she smiled and he released a breath he did not realise he was holding "However..." his breath hitched again "...there was something he found. He was quiet because I swore him to secrecy until I told you and the family" he was stressed "love what was it?" She smiled at him "I am with child" his jaw dropped and a few seconds later his face contorted into a smile "A... A baby?" She nodded "You are to be a father" she announced and he cheered ran out the room and told everyone outside. She could hear the claps and cheers outside and he ran back in and gave her a kiss full of passion "Anthony calm down I know its exciting but I don't want to have to call the doctor back because you have hurt yourself"

It took a few days for the news to be spread and be written into Lady Whistledowns article. The newlywed couldn't have been more happy for a singular bee sting to be the product of such big news.

A/N I am rubbish at writing I don't know where I just got this inspo but I just had to write I hope you enjoy 😊

#anthony bridgerton x reader #bridgerton #anthony bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x female reader #bridgerton x y/n #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton x female reader #netflix bridgerton #bridgerton netflix #colin bridgerton #benedict bridgerton #violet bridgerton

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thelov3lybookworm · 8 months

Note

Hey! I'm the one with the ' delulu' request. I mean like yn and AZ were mates and they found out before the amarantha thing happened. And while when Rhysand was attending the ball(?) That trapped the high lords, Yn was with him too as his second-women(kinda you know) and then they can't get out and lose connection to thier family and in those 50 years the red head bitch kills yn just to torment Rhys and he literally can't do anything about it. When everyone is free and with thier family, happy and all, az is happy too that Rhys came home but he just wont(can't) accept the fact that yn is dead and is never coming back. He's delusional (delulu).

Don't grieve.

Summary: Azriel's going mad, and he won't except it.

•○●⛦●○•

Tw: mental illness. this bitch's gonna hurt

A/n: hey anon! I beg for your forgiveness because it took me so long to write this. Please don't hate me, and please tell me you forgive me or else I'll go and cry in a corner, making no noise, pretending I don't exist 😭

(Also, i hope I didn't misunderstand what you wanted azzie to be delulu about)

•○🌑○•

Azriel paced back and forth, having just been informed by his shadows that his High Lord had returned.

It had been fifty years since Azriel had seen Rhysand.

And it had been fifty years since he had seen her.

And now they were back.

The Shadows hadn't mentioned anything about his mate though, but he let it slide, planning on interrogating them later. For now, he needed to see his brother and his mate.

•○🌑○•

Azriel barged in through the door to the sitting room, finding Mor, Cassian and Amren already there. All of them, except Amren, had tears in their eyes.

Azriel took in the whole place, noting that his mate wasn't in the room. Maybe she was freshening up?

His heart rate picked up, the urge to go find her overpowering any rational thought he had.

But then his eyes landed on his brother, and he grinned. In what felt like an eternity, Azriel grinned.

Rhysand looked like he'd been through hell and back, which he technically had. He had lost so much of his weight and muscles, his skin color also having become pale. In short, he looked sick.

Rhys gave Azriel a pained smile back, but Azriel didn't think much of it. Azriel briskly walked up to his brother and pulled him in for a hug, laughing.

When Azriel pulled back, his eyes again went around the room in search of his mate.

But again, she was not here.

"Where's Y/n? Is she freshening up?"

Everyone looked away from him, and Azriel's smile faltered. But then he grinned and muttered. "Are you trying to keep my mate away from me? You do know that that won't work though, don't you? I'll have my shadows bring me to her."

No one spoke, until the silence became unbearable and Cassian broke it. "Az..."

Azriel glanced at Cassian, his brows farrowing. "What's going on you people? Are you about to ask me for ransom to see my mate?"

Azriel was beeing more cheerful than he usually was, but maybe that's what a mating bond did to people. What meeting your mate after five decades did to people. Azriel blinked when nobody laughed. Mor gasped for breath as more tears ran down her face, sniffling.

"Azriel... Y/n, she... is gone." Rhys responded.

"Gone where?"

"To where the–"

"She's dead, boy." Amren put a stop to Rhys's pathetic explanation.

And she did nothing to gentle the blow.

Y/n wasn't dead. Azriel refused to believe that. And that only meant this was some elaborate joke they were playing on him.

He laughed. "What?"

Mor turned to him, pity and sympathy shining from her eyes. "She's gone Azriel. She will never come back. Amarantha... she..."

Rhysand toom a deep breath, nodding to himself before speaking, as if he was trying to convince himself. "Amarantha wanted to control me, and the only way she could do that was by torturing Y/n. The bitch one day decided she was bored and let her cronies as well as many other fae bastards, mostly from Autumn Court, tear into Y/n. She watched, wanting to see how long Y/n would be able to hold up. I don't think Amarantha thought they would kill her, as that would mean there was no one she could use to control me. But Y/n died by the hands of her cronies."

Azriel smiled lazily. "You really think I believe the bullshit you are spewing right now? Come now, Rhys, you should know better than that. Fifty years under that mountain has made you lose your head. Go take a nice long bath, fly around Velaris for some time. A little fresh air after fifty years of routing under there would do you good. Maybe– hopefully– clear the garbage up there."

Azriel turned away, walking towards the door when a shadow slithered up to his ear and whispered that Y/n was nowhere in Velaris.

"Hmm. Maybe she decided to take a vacation with a friend of hers?"

That was stupid, considering there was no way in hell that Y/n would rather be with a friend than come to meet Az. But that was the only reason he could think of, because he would not, not in a million years, accept that Y/n was dead.

He walked towards the door, his posture relaxed as he opened the door. He glanced back once, giving the bewildered looking inner circle a smile, and called, "See you later. Have some work to do."

•○🌑○•

Shadows pov.

Azriel was practically waltzing as he went around the kitchen, getting all the ingredients he needed as he mixed the batter for the cake, humming a tune she loved.

"She loved chocolate so much. Do you think she'll be surprised?"

He asked his shadows, who simply floated around him, not daring to correct his thoughts. The one time they had, Azriel had launched into a screaming fit, so loud that nearly the whole of Velaris would have heard him.

So they watched as their master continued mixing the batter, then pouring it into a mould. He was all alone in the house, having moved in with Y/n into their new home soon after accepting the bond.

"She will turn four hundred and fifty this year. Can you imagine? It will be so exciting! I just wish she returned home soon."

It had been one year since the High Lord of Night Court had returned, and their master still refused to believe that his mate was no longer alive.

A knock sounded on the door, and Azriel looked up. He walked towards the door, opening it to find Cassian standing on the front porch, smiling.

"Come on in." Azriel spoke, turning away and walking back into the kitchen.

The Shadows watched as the general took in the mess around the kitchen. He swallowed before speaking.

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm baking a cake for Y/n. She loved it when I did. It's her birthday today."

Pity entered the General's eyes at the enthusiasm in the shadows' Master's voice.

"Az..." Cassian began gently, but he stopped when Azriel's head whipped up, fury shining in his hazel eyes. The general swallowed again. "That's amazing."

Azriel smiled. "You can have some too if you want. But you would have to save some for her. She will be pissed if you ate all of it."

"Are you for real? I can have some too? Thank you so much Az."

Azriel nodded, smiling happily.

"Did you come here for a reason? Was there something you needed to tell me about?"

The General cleared his throat. "Uh yes. I was sent by Rhys. He wanted to know if you wanted to go on a mission today."

"Why?"

"Oh its just... there has been unrest in one of the Illyrian camps, and Rhys wanted to send someone to check on it. He was hoping you would want to go, but if not, he'll have to send someone else."

The Shadows knew that wasn't the only reason. It was because today was Y/n's birthday, and the high lord wanted to make sure the spymaster had something to occupy his time with instead of wallowing in her memories.

"He'll have to send someone else. It's her birthday today. I can't go on missions today."

The General clenched his jaw, nodding. "See you later then, brother."

The Shadows watched their master nod, cleaning around the kitchen. The general turned away, heading for the door.

"Take care brother." Azriel called, and the general waved before he left.

•○🌑○•

She was smiling at him from the opposite end of the tent.

She looked beautiful in the simple flowy white gown, and he felt like he was falling in love all over again.

Everything was settled, Koschei and the human queens removed from the picture, and most of them were unscathed.

Most of them.

Azriel wasn't.

He had been caught by the human queens guards, held captive and tortured for information while war raged outside.

After the war had been won, his brothers had found him dying in the torture chamber, waiting for his death. They had brought him to the tent in which Madja was operating, the inner circle rushing in behind them.

As he lay bleeding and battered on a table in the healers tent, his family gathered around him, he thought it a fitting end for him. He tortured people his whole life, and he was going to meet his end in a similar way.

"Hold on Az, just a few more moments. Everything will be fine." Rhys mumbled.

Azriel shook his head, his eyes never leaving his mate's. "Let me die. Maybe then I will meet my love again."

"She–"

"Died. I know. I was probably hoping there'd be a miracle. Or maybe I was just delusional."

"Az, please, just hold on."

His mate smiled at him, and Azriel's chest felt lighter than ever. He watched her intently as she stood from the chair she was in, making her way over to him. He gave her a small smile.

"She is here now."

Everyone stiffened. "What are you talking about Az?" Cassian questioned.

Azriel vaguely motioned towards her, as he couldn't move much without his body seizing up. "She is here. Let me go, brothers. I'll finally able to be with her again."

"What do you mean she is here?" Cassian had gone pale, frantically looking around. "No one is here."

Y/n came to stand next to the table. She observed Cassian and the rest of the inner circle before turning back to Azriel. "They can't see me." She smiled gently, glowing slightly. And Azriel watched her the way he'd watched her the first time he'd seen her. His mouth gaping open at her beauty, his eyes slightly wide. "How are you my love?"

"Miserable." He whispered.

She nodded. "I can understand. It hurt when I was dying too." She then took a deep breath, as if steadying herself. "We do not have much time. You only have two options. You can either choose to let the healers help and live, or let it all go."

"If- if I let it all go... will I be with you?"

His beloved nodded. "But I wish you would let the healers help you. I want you to love a long and happy life."

Her voice was sad and strained, as if she didn't want to say them but had to.

"But I want to be with you. I can't live a happy life without you."

"Then let go Azriel. Let it all go. Say goodbye." Her eyes glittered. "I will be here when you rise."

He didn't know what she meant by rise, but he was too tired to care. His body was numb at this point, his eyes drooping, begging for some rest.

Azriel glanced at his family, who stared at him in confusion. He'd simply been whispering, and they apparently couldn't see her. Of course they would be confused.

Azriel have them a satisfied smile. "Tell them to leave me alone. The healers."

"Why?" Rhys's voice broke on the word.

"Because she's here, and we can be together again. So let me go brother."

"Azriel... please brother. Don't give up so quickly."

Azriel shook his head, his eyes starting to close.

"Don't miss me to much. Don't grieve. Be happy."

The healers had stopped working on him the moment he began speaking, and by now he had lost too much blood.

Thank the mother.

Just then, Azriel felt as if he was stepping out of a tight suit. Like he had become weightless, lighter than air.

He blinked his eyes open, which he could do without any resistance. He looked around, seeing everything clearly. Hear every sound clearly.

Then he sat up, but no one paid him any mind. He blinked in confusion, as his eyes searched the room. His eyes landed on the figure nearby, smiling softly at him.

Y/n.

She lifted her hand towards him, beckoning him closer, and he drifted to her. As soon as his hand met hers, he felt like he was home, finally.

Y/n's eyes went behing him, sadness painting her features. He followed her gaze to a heartbreaking sight.

There, around the table where his body was, where he had been, the inner circle wept.

Cassian was bent over the table, his head was on Azriel's chest as he screamed and sobbed at the top of his lungs, tears rolling down onto Azriel's armor. His fingers were curled into the metal of Az's armor, so tightly that blood had begun welling in some of the places.

Rhys was leaning on the table, staring at Azriel's face, tears running down his face and dripping onto the table. He did nothing, just stared, devastation on his face. He gave no reaction when Feyre placed a hand on his arm.

Feyre herself was crying, a hand over her mouth to contain her sobs. Mor buried her head in Feyre's neck, clutching her tightly as the blonde cried.

Then there was Nesta, who stared at Azriel too, her hand on her mate's back to comfort him as he continued screaming, the agonising roars echoing through the silent night.

Amren, who had been standing near the Azriel's foot, quietly walked up to his head. She dragged a hand through his blood caked hair, sucking in a sharp breath. She looked distraught, and that was big thing for Amren. She then leaned down, placing a gentle kiss on Azriel's head beside turning on her heel and waking out the tent.

Azriel turned to his mate, who gave him a shaky smile. He returned it, and after a final glance at his family, he let her lead him away.

It was only a matter of time before they had to go back to their normal lifestyle.

Azriel only hoped they didn't grieve him for long.

•○🌑○•

General Taglist: @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @lizziesfirstwife

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xxgoblin-dumplingxx · 7 months

Note

Do you have any secret!reader tidbits? I've been missing them

When the door bell rang Jason let you go, going to answer the door. And he heard you slip into the kitchen.

He hoped he was right.

He hoped this went well.

The second you came home, people should have scooped you up, held you and told you that they love you. Just been happy you were alive. Being rebuffed like that had... broken something in you. He knew it did. It proved to you everything you ever laid in bed at night and believed when you couldn't sleep.

"You must be Jason-"

"Yeah, I-"

"Is she okay? Is she-"

"She's alive," he said, stepping back to pull him into the alcove and lowering his voice. "She was... really hurt. They tortured her. Slashed her throat. She should have died."

"Let me see her?" he pleaded. "Please. They told me- The casket was closed. They told me they didn't want people to remember her like that. But-"

"They just don't want people to know she looks like this now," Jason said bitterly. "She's- nervous. She's hiding in the kitchen."

He nodded carefully and stepped down the hall- Jason following after a second. Unwilling to not be there. To not run interference if you need it.

But you don't. Massive weathered bear paw hands cradle your face tenderly. Looking at you with wordless love and disbelief. Looking at the face of a child he loved so much and thought he'd never see again. Kissing your forehead and your cheeks clumsily. Kisses he'd given you a hundred times as a little girl before he crushed you against his chest.

"My baby," he cried. "Oh my god, what did they do to you? Why? And why?-"

The questions only stop when you hug him back and start to cry, sagging against him.

"Shhh," he soothed, stroking your hair and gathering you into his lap on a kitchen chair like it was just nettles in your foot or a bee sting. Like you were still a little girl. "It's okay," he murmured shakily, wiping his own tears away. "Shhh, don't cry sweet girl."

Jason swallowed hard and went to find tissues and water. This time he was right. Thankfully. And thank god. Someone loved you. Someone didn't believe your parents.

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #ask answered #minors dni #reader insert #secret!reader

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adonisbeloveds · 1 year

Text

Doll!Wally darling with child reader

-Reader: no pronouns used + no gender implied -He/him for Wally

Requested: No/Yes

Warnings: Some angst at the end. Disclamer: Characters personality, looks, ect may be different from canon due to either hc or author has just forgotten.

A/N: Help....I am running out of things on my writing to do list so if you have any request please gimmie them :D! /nf. Also! the idea of Doll!Wally was from @tiredly101 please go check them out bc they make amazing Wally Darling/Welcome Home stuff!

^ Made by me

-🍎 Seeing a box infront of your house that was adressed to you was not the first thing you thought you would be seeing after you got off the bus, shrugging it off and going inside to ask your caregiver to bring it inside and up to your room. -🍎 After thanking your caregiver and closing the door you carefully started to take the tape off, half confused and half excited to see what was in the box. After opening the box you had sparkles in your eyes and quickly took the doll of Wally Darling from Welcome Home aka your favourite show ever! -🍎 You quickly ran downstairs hugging Wally tightly as you made your way to your caregiver to thank them for the Wally doll! there was just a small problem, they didn't buy you the doll...but who where they to tell you that? besides it could have been one of their friends who mailed it to you! -🍎 Wally was very happy that you liked him! you always carried him everywhere, the kitchen whenever you wanted a snack, the living room when you where watching his show, your room when you would hug him to sleep, the only place you didn't take him was the bathroom which he was thankful and understanding of. Wally was sitting on your bed and looking around your room while waiting for you to come home from school so you two can go watch his show together when he heard the front door open and you walking upstairs, he was so happy but than you walked into the room with tears in your eyes as you took your bag off and made a bee line to grab his doll and flop face first into your bed. To say that Wally was furious was a massive understatement, who the hell hurt you? why were you crying? were you hurt anywhere? he swears if you were hurt- "they were being so mean Wally!" you softly sobbed as you hugged him tightly, "[Name] was being such a meanie Wally..." so now he knows the name of who hurt his child. After some time of you telling Wally what happened you remembered that Welcome Home was going to start playing soon so you quickly got up from bed and ran downstairs giggling the whole time ready to see your favourite show! Wally was also very happy that you where back to your giggling self and that the cause of it was his show.

#☾★ adonis beloveds ★☽#☾★ adonis ★☽#child reader #gender neutral reader #gn reader #male reader #political #reader insert #wally x you #wally x reader #wally darling #welcome home wally darling #welcome home wally #wally darling x male reader #wally darling x you #wally x y/n

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amara-among-the-stars · 7 days

Text

Messing around with some Swiss/Mountain thoughts and re wrote a little fic blurb I had written ages ago (and deleted). Enjoy I guess?

Swiss was growing upset with himself. He had been trying to make Mountain a gift for the past two hours and nothing was going the way he wanted it to go. Sighing he picked up the silly drawing and letter along with a bracelet and was about to toss em in the bin when he smelt patchouli and sage and felt arms wrap around him. He jumped and quickly covered the drawing, and the letter and the bracelet Dew helped him make.

“Whatya doin’ Starfire?” Mountain whispered, pressing a chaste kiss to Swiss’ temple.

“Mmm nothin’. T-Thought you were in the greenhouse with Rora and Rainy.” Swiss stuttered out, leaning back against Mountain. Said ghoul let out a small rumble as Mountain pressed a kiss to Swiss’ cheek before speaking.

“Was. But we finished what we were doin’ and I wanted to see my Honeybee.” Mountain drawled, nuzzling and nipping at Swiss’ neck.

Sathanas. His southern accent was thicker than usual. Squirming he let out a small upset whine, causing Mountain to stop what he was doing, thinking he had somehow hurt the multi ghoul.

“Alright there Sugar?” Mountain asked, pulling away. Swiss took a deep breath in, slowly letting it out, tears threatening to fall down his face.

“I.. I um..” He whispered. Mountain let out a confused trill, moving Swiss’ chair so he could kneel by Swiss’ legs.

“What’s goin on in that pretty lil head of yours Darlin’?” Mountain questioned. Swiss let out a choked sob and pushed the gifts he was working on off his desk and onto Mountain’s lap.

“M’ sorry if they’re bad. Just.. wanted to earn your affection.” Swiss muttered, looking down at his hands. Mountain looked at the drawing, it was of Mountain laying on his back amongst flowers, dressed in some old western styled clothing with a piece of straw in his mouth and a bunch of different little animals like squirrels, bunnies and coyotes laying beside him and what seemed to be a silver dapple pinto horse. Mountain grinned, before moving onto the letter to read it. The letter consisted of Swiss naming off all the things he loved about Mountain, now purring, he picked up the bracelet, eyeing it. It was gold. The charm was a cowboy hat with sunflowers and on the back engraved was the name Honeybee.

“Oh my darlin Honeybee. You don’t need to earn my affection. Not now. Not ever.” Mountain started to say. Swiss let out a pained whine and started crying.

“Please.. let me.. Let me try to be good. I can be good. I promise.” Swiss crackled out. Mountain shushed him gently.

“I wasn’t finished Sugar. You dont ever have to earn it, because it will always be yours to have.

I love you Honeybee.” Mountain stated, grabbing Swiss and pulling him off the chair and onto the lap.

“Come. Stop those tears Bee. I don’t like seein’ ya cry.” Mountain cooed, pressing soft small kisses to Swiss’ face before pulling him into a gentle kiss.

“T-Thank you Mo. I.. I love you too.” Swiss stumbled out, purring and burying his head in Mountain’s chest. The pair sat like that for what seemed like an hour before Mountain got up, carrying his partner to their bed and laying them down.

Mountain went on to describing what he loves about Swiss. Just to make sure the Multi ghoul knew just how much Mountain loves him.

"I love your cheesy smile. The way your eyes crinkle as you laugh loudly. I love your singing. I love your hugs. I love the way you scrunch your nose when you smell something you're not used to smelling. I love how you love our entire pack. And most of all. I'll love you forever." Mountain whispered as he peppered kisses all over Swiss’ face, smiling as the multi ghoul went lax in his arms and returned the favor.

“I'll love you forever as well.” Swiss replied, nuzzling against Mountain’s chest. As the night settled they nestled together in a tangle of limbs. The moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting a silvery glow over the room. Mountain, with Swiss cradled in his arms, closed his eyes and felt a sense of contentment wash over him. Both could feel the thrum of feeling safe and sheltered within the embrace of each other’s arms and within their shared bond.

#amara writes #the band ghost #swiss ghoul #mountain ghoul #swissalps #the nameless ghouls #the band ghost fanfiction #nameless ghouls

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ravenstargames · 1 month

Text

✦ Lost in Limbo Devlog #11 | 05.08.24

AHA! Nope, we didn't forget about April's devlog. In fact, we have been busier than ever—doing early preparations for our Kickstarter, working on the demo, sorting out legal stuff...

Speaking of which...

This month we have been really busy making our studio official by the law! Now, to pay taxes and cry! YAY!

We are very very excited about it—and also terrified! We are still sorting out the studio's bank account, as burocracy isn't the fastest thing in this world, sadly. This is the first thing I wanted to talk about in this devlog, because it's such fantastic news for us! :')

Now, let's jump on the process we've made this past month, shall we? ✨

This past month, Raquel worked very hard on our second Key Art. This was originally made for Steam, but I modified the format a bit so it could also be used in other places! I honestly love this one—we have our first Key Art to represent the darker aspects of the game, and then this one to show off the characters' dynamics! Not everything's going to be horror and mystery in the game!✨💜

Also, we have been working on designing the merch for the Kickstarter, but we can't show anything yet. All we can say is that everything is looking gorgeous and we are so excited to share it eventually!

Thanks to Airyn, we've made great progress with the backgrounds! In fact, there's only one left to finish. The one you see above needs a few final touches (that will be made by yours truly!), and then I'll animate it a bit to get it ready for the build! The rest of the backgrounds are finished, animated, and integrated in the build :3

The survey icon is missing, but it'll be there!

Well, this should tell you everything you need to know when it comes to programming! The whole demo is programmed. Functional. Nothing crashes. Stuff works and I'm over cloud nine. I have been working on the final touches (revisiting scenes, checking sprites, music / sfx volume...) and the beta testing phase will begin soon. Soon as in tomorrow.

We've mainly used this month to review the auditions we received for our casting call, contacting the selected VAs, etc. Every VA has accepted their role, received the document with the lines we'll need for the demo, and we'll work hard to announce the cast publicly as soon as possible! We want to at least do a promotional short video showcasing every LI and their VA!

Sadly, making the studio official has (and will) take more time than we anticipated, and as we want to release the demo on Steam, the review process will most likely slow us down. There's the option of doing an itchio release and then a Steam one, but I'm not sure if that'll hurt the project. We are still keeping the demo release date a secret, until things settle down!

Also, I couldn't finish this devlog without talking about the Magic & Mystery Otome cross-promotion! ✨ We were invited by the amazing folks at Best Laid Plans Studios to participate in this event that showcases 12 amazing visual novels like Alaris, Obscura, Dual Chroma and more! I know I have been pretty annoying with this (can you blame me, though?!) so I won't keep rambling about it—just check everyone out, please!

I think that's all! Well, that's not all, but we gotta keep a bit of mystery surrounding the demo! We have been busy bees this month, with the making of the studio, the polishing of the demo, contacting and coordinating the VAs...

We are so excited for the demo release. I'm personally excited and terrified, but blame it on the OCD. I keep jumping from catastrophic scenario to catastrophic scenario. I'll have no control over what happens when the demo goes live, but I have control on what I can do before that happens—and that's working as hard as I've been doing this whole time.

And that's it! Please take care, enjoy the week, and stay hydrated. The Raventar team, NOW AN OFFICIAL STUDIO, wishes you all the best and sends a huge hug your way! 💜

#lost in limbo #visual novel #otome #indiedev #interactive fiction #devlog

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mackenzielovee · 1 year

Text

parenthood part twenty three: forever & always, and then some

a/n: oh boy! 12k words to (hopefully) feed your parenthood craving. i am already dying to know what you all think of this, so please don't hesitate to hop into the comments or my ask box to talk! hope you enjoy! reblogs are appreciated :)

warnings: angst warning. swearing, verbal arguments, anxiety, panic attack, crying, kissing

ambivalence masterlist , parenthood masterlist

The Island Club hasn’t changed one bit since you were employed here and running drinks around to Rafe and his friends before you knew he even had a crush on you. As you watch the waitresses make their rounds to the same customers, serving the same food to the same tables, you chuckle to yourself at the thought of ever having to deal with that again.

Scott sits across from you, fidgeting in his seat slightly as he holds himself back from pulling a cigarette from his pocket. You skim over him, taking in his appearance.

His hair is freshly cut and the rosiness is back in his cheeks after having disappeared for so long. He’s eating three meals a day again, and to you, it seems his only unhealthy habit is smoking. In time, you’re sure he will move past that.

“How’re the kids?” he asks, looking up at you.

“They’re good,” you reply, “They’re busy bees lately. Connor is starting on a soccer team, so Rafe’s been helping him practice.”

“That’s awesome,” Scott grins, and the sight makes you smile, “Kid always has had one hell of a kick. What about Josie girl?”

You chuckle, “She’s all about dance, recently. She wants me to sign her up for a class, and I’ve been trying to get this teacher to call me back about getting her in.”

“Wow. Good for her. She’s so driven, Y/N. They both are.”

“Yeah, they’re something,” you laugh.

He gives you a smile, but it fades fast before he asks, “And, Rafe?”

“He’s doing really well. He’s less stressed at work, and he’s spending a lot of time with the kids.”

Scott nods, “Is he still… y’know? Pissed at me?”

You sigh and look down at your lap, unwilling to respond right away. Rafe’s feelings toward Scott have been complicated ever since he showed up to the house and scared the shit out of you and the kids, even though you’ve worked through it and have encouraged Rafe to do the same. Your loyalty to your brother runs deeper than Rafe’s does — because, as he puts it, he will always choose the safety and security of his family. Especially his children.

“He’s not pissed, Scott,” you say carefully.

“Right, he’s just done with me,” he laughs dryly, “Look, it’s fine, Y/N. I get it.”

You nod, and when your waiter drops your plates in front of you, you’re relieved when Scott eats his meal and has several glasses of water.

He tells you about the new job he just started and how he’s finally, officially, cut ties with Mae after she’s yanked him around for over a year. How he’s attending regular AA meetings and actually participating in them. He’s even made a few friends in the group, and they go out to eat together after their meetings to keep themselves busy.

By the time he pays for your lunch and walks you out to your car, you can’t help but pull him into a tight embrace. He hugs you back and gives you a wide smile, silently telling you that he really is doing better.

“So, listen, I was kinda hoping I could see them soon,” he says, clarifying, “The kids.”

You know you should run it by Rafe first, but the look in Scott’s eye and the pride swelling in your heart at his improvement has you answering faster than you should.

“That would be great,” you nod.

He smiles, “Perfect. How about Wednesday afternoon? I don’t have to be at work ‘til six. Do they have sports or anything?”

You hold up a finger and check the calendar on your phone, finding nothing for yourself or either of the kids on Wednesday after they get home from school.

“Wednesday works,” you reply, “I’ll bring them to your apartment.”

“Awesome,” he beams, then pulls you in for another hug, “Thank you so much, Y/N. I can’t wait.”

“The kids will be very excited,” you tell him, squeezing him tight.

He laughs lightly, sounding like himself and making you relax even more. He’s finally in a better place, and you couldn’t be happier about it.

Scott opens your car door for you and then closes it once you’re inside. He stands there and watches as you back out, then offers you a wave before you drive away. You smile the whole way home, thankful beyond belief that your brother is doing right by himself and improving his life where he needs it.

When you get home, Rafe is in the kitchen. You smile at the sight of him at the stove, stirring peppers around a skillet and listening to music. You can hear the kids playing in the playroom, and when Rafe notices you come in, he steps away from the food and to you.

“Hey, baby, how was lunch?” he asks, helping you remove your jacket.

“It was good,” you say with a smile, “Club hasn’t changed a bit.”

“Nah, I figured as much.”

He hangs up your jacket and your purse for you, then steps back over and guides his arm around your waist. You smile and set your hands on his chest, feeling his warmth.

“How are the kids?” you ask him.

“Josie hid Connor’s firetruck underneath the couch, and Bo got it,” he fills you in, watching your eyes pop in horror, “He was very distraught.”

“Oh, no, poor baby,” you pout, “I’ll see if I can find another one for him tomorrow.”

Rafe grins, “You’re so good to them, they don’t even know it.”

You laugh and grab ahold of his chin lightly, pulling him down to give him a kiss. He accepts it, then offers you a small apology as he momentarily breaks away to pull the skillet off the heat and to the back burner.

When he moves back to you, assuming the same position, you swallow your nervousness of breaching the topic, and instead, slip your hands under his shirt.

“So, listen,” you start, “Scott got a job. He’s working nights right now, and he goes after his AA meetings. He seems really, really good.”

He nods patiently, but you can tell by his eyes that he’s not receptive whatsoever to where you’re going to take this conversation.

“That’s good,” he replies, his voice even.

“Yeah, it is,” you say hopefully, rising up on your tiptoes, “So, anyway, he was asking if he could see the kids on Wednesday before he has to work.”

Rafe raises a brow, “And what did you tell him?”

You swallow again and press your palms into his skin, hoping your touch will lighten him up.

“Well, I… I think it’s a good idea. It would be good for him, and the kids miss him.”

Rafe’s chest deflates against your hands, and only because you know him so well can you predict what he’s going to say next.

“Look, sweetheart, I’m thrilled that Scott is doing better. I am. I just don’t think this is the best time for that. Josie’s still adjusting to school, and Connor’s getting settled in a new classroom and he’s on a sports team. I feel like they have enough change going on right now, you know?”

You nod slowly, but look to the floor. He covers your hands with his own and takes them, bringing both of your knuckles up to his lips to kiss. You meet his eyes then, and you both take a second to analyze the other person’s expression.

“It’s not really a change, though,” you push, keeping your voice light, “It’s just Scott.”

“Y/N, Scott scared the shit out of both of them when he showed up drunk.”

“I know, but he apologized for that,” you reply.

Rafe drops your hands, “That doesn’t make it okay. To be honest, I’m just not comfortable with it. I need more time to work through things with him. I’m sorry, but can we please table this for now?”

You move to speak up, but bite your tongue at the very last second when one specific thought hits you. If you told Rafe you weren’t comfortable with something, he’d never fight with you on it. He would never pressure you into anything, and the thought of doing that to him makes your stomach turn.

“Yes, of course,” you answer, “Thank you for being straight with me. We can talk about it when you’re ready.”

Rafe shifts and sets one large palm on your hip bone, where he pulls your body closer to his.

“I’m not saying no, sweetheart. I’m just saying that I’d like to give it a little more time and make sure Scott really sticks to this change before we bring the kids back into it. That’s all.”

You nod and offer him a smile, “I understand, Rafe. I think that’s perfectly reasonable.”

“Thank you,” he says sweetly, “Now, Connor and I are making a grocery store run. Need anything?”

You step closer, “Coffee. And laundry pods for the washer. But not the blue and white ones—”

“The green and yellow ones, I know,” he teases, “I also put a stick of deodorant on the list for you, considering you went to throw it in the garbage this morning and fuckin’ banked the shot.”

“Excuse me,” you scoff, even though your heart swells at the fact that he not only noticed that, but also remembered it and put it on the list, “We need more bananas, too. You know what Josie’s like when we run out of those for her lunch.”

He laughs, “Yeah. Okay. Bananas, coffee, and laundry pods. I’ve got the rest of the list, but text me if you remember anything okay?”

“Okay,” you smile, “Thanks, handsome.”

He nods and signals for a kiss, grinning when you stand up on your tiptoes to give to him. When you pull back, he yells for Connor, knowing Josie will come running, too.

“Oh, hey, did that lady ever call you back about Josie’s dance class?” he asks.

“No,” you groan, “I’m hoping she will in the next few days. Otherwise, I’ll look somewhere else. I just heard that place is so good, I really wanted her to try it out.”

He shrugs, “She’ll be great anywhere. Come on, Connor! Shoes and jacket, hurry!”

He kisses you again quickly before he pulls away to get his own shoes and jacket, finishing in record time so he could steal just a few more kisses before the Sunday chores officially start.

Monday comes before you know it, and it brings a wave of destruction. Your meetings all get delayed, your work project is put on suspension, and Rose is driving you crazy about an upcoming event that you’re not even technically assigned to.

Even more than that, Josie had a day. She refused to let go of you when you dropped her off at preschool, and after you managed to escape, they called you twice and Rafe once to report that she would not stop crying and demanding one of you to come get her. Being the parent at home on Mondays, Rafe picked her up, and she sat with him in his home office for the remainder of the day.

Tuesday morning finds you easier. You’re seated at your desk and fire up your work email after dropping both kids off at school — Josie did better today — when you realize that you never told Scott that the plans for tomorrow are off.

You draft up a text message slowly over the next few hours, trying to sound equal parts assertive and sympathetic. At one o’clock, right before you send the text, your drafting is interrupted by a phone call. The nurse at Connor’s school tells you that he’s been running a fever and complaining of a stuffy nose and sore throat since before lunch. You sigh and agree to be right there to get him, then hit send on the text to Scott without thinking twice about it.

You return home with both Connor and Josie behind you. Well, Josie walks behind you while Connor lays in your arms, mumbling softly about how he feels cold despite his fever being high. Josie helps you the best she can to get Connor settled in his room, where you lay him in bed and put a light blanket over him, then get him a cup of water and take his temperature once more. It’s still high, so you give him a kiss and tell him to sleep for a bit before you come back up to check on him.

“Is Connor okay, Mommy? Can we make him some soup?” Josie asks as the two of you slip out of his bedroom.

You smile and pick her up, giving her a hug since you didn’t get to when you picked her up from school.

“We should make him some soup,” you agree, “And, I’m sure you’re ready for your after-school snack, too.”

She grins mischievously, “Maybe.”

You laugh and carry her downstairs to the kitchen, where your phone sits on the counter. The screen fills with unanswered texts, so you set Josie down and grab it, scrolling through the messages.

The first one you open is Rafe’s chain. Two from him — both exactly what you expected them to be.

Just got a notification you checked Connor out of school? Is everything okay?

I’ve got a meeting in half an hour but I can come home after if you need me.

You look over at Josie, watching as she uses the handle on the bottom oven as a balance beam for ballet. Your heart squeezes, and you make a mental note to reach out to other dance studios in the area tomorrow.

Quickly, you text Rafe back while stepping over to the pantry to get Josie a snack.

He’s sick, but okay. Slight fever and head cold. Nothing to worry about. Good luck on your meeting, handsome. I love you.

He returns the sentiment quickly, while also reminding you to call him if things change. Then, as you pour animal crackers into a bowl, you switch over to Scott’s text chain.

First, you reread the text you sent to him.

Hey, so I discussed things with Rafe, and we have decided to hold off on allowing the kids to come over. For now. We think it’s best to give you some more adjustment time, and then we can revisit the idea. I’m sorry, Scott. But, I will try to do better by sending you more pics of them. Just hang in there. Love you.

You know it’s not perfect, but it has to do. It gets your point across, it doesn’t blame Rafe, and it’s sugar coated just enough for him.

His reply follows your message, and the length looks drastically different.

Y/N, I’m adjusted. I just want to see them. Didn’t you tell Rafe I’m doing better? Why is he keeping them from me?

“Mommy!” Josie calls, standing at the kitchen window, “There’s a red bird on the fence!”

You frown at Scott’s text but lock your phone, then carry Josie’s snack over to her. You look out the window to where she’s pointing and find the cardinal that’s holding her attention so well.

“Wow, beautiful, huh?” you ask, and she nods before you say, ��Okay, come on. Let’s sit at the table and have a snack.”

She obeys and sits in her usual seat at the table, smiling widely when you follow her. You sit with her while she eats and talk to her about her day at school, listening intently even as she tells you the same story for ten entire minutes.

You perk up when you hear the front door close. You know Rafe wouldn’t be coming into the house with his meeting coming up, and a fresh wave of worry passes through your body.

“Y/N?”

You relax when you hear Scott’s voice, but only for a second. He knows he’s not allowed to come to the house; you had talked Rafe out of taking Scott’s key from him after his latest episode.

Josie, like you, recognises the voice, and practically tips her chair right over as she attempts to get up.

“Uncle Scott!”

Her scream is loud, and she takes off from the kitchen before you can stop her. You groan internally, scrambling to already try and figure out what you’re going to say to Rafe. Despite it all, you follow Josie out of the kitchen and to the foyer, where she is currently diving into Scott’s open arms.

“Hey, lovebug,” he grins widely, “Wasn’t sure you’d be home from school yet. I’m so happy to see you!”

She locks herself around his neck and presses kiss after kiss to his cheek, laughing when he laughs.

“I’ve missed you,” she tells him, “Where have you been?”

He smiles sadly, then returns her kisses with his own, “I’ve been getting myself together. For you and Connor. Are you proud of me?”

“Yes,” she giggles, “Want to have an after school snack with me?”

His smile at her question tells you just how much the question means to him, and when he looks over at you for approval, you just can’t say no. Not to Scott; not to your baby brother who has struggled so much for so long, and just needs a little bit of love to keep him going. You can’t fault him for that, and no part of you is able to even consider kicking him out. Even if it’s not what you and Rafe have discussed and agreed on, you hope that when you explain, he will understand.

You nod your head, and he turns and kisses her cheek again, like he just can’t help himself.

“I would love to,” he agrees.

Scott carries her into the kitchen and you follow. He sets her down and lets her run over to her chair, but he hangs back just long enough to talk to you.

“I’m sorry, I just came over to talk about your text. I didn’t think she’d be here—”

“It’s fine,” you reply, waving him off, “Connor’s home sick from school, so I picked her up because I can’t leave him to go get her later.”

He nods, “Do you need me to bring you anything for him? Soup? Gatorade?”

“No, I have it covered,” you reply, “Go. She’s waiting so patiently for you.”

He chuckles when he sees her sitting on her knees in the chair, waving him over with an animal cracker half shoved into her mouth. Without hesitation, he rushes over and takes a seat beside her, stealing one of her animal crackers and laughing when she protests.

You puff out your cheeks and check the time, wondering if you can squeeze in a quick call to Rafe before his meeting. When you decide you can’t, you set your phone back down. You’re here, you’re supervising, and he won’t be mad, you tell yourself. Scott can’t do anything wrong with you here, too.

Your phone’s sharp ring draws you out of your head. When you look to see who’s calling, you gasp and practically pounce on the phone — the dance school that you’ve been trying to get Josie into.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Mrs. Cameron?”

“Yes,” you reply.

“Hi there. My name is Chelsea, I’m calling to see if you are still interested in signing your daughter, Josephine, up for dance class?”

“Yes,” you say enthusiastically, waving to Scott and then holding up your finger as you step into the living room, “Yes, I am. She’s really excited to start.”

“Oh, wonderful. We actually have an opening today in our three o’clock class. It’s only one spot, but if you could bring her by today, I can almost guarantee it would be hers.”

You freeze, “Today?”

“Yes ma’am. Spots here tend to go fast, but I saw your last name, and we wanted to offer you and your daughter the spot, first.”

“Oh,” you say, brain running a mile a minute as you try to figure out how to make this all work out, “Um, yes, thank you, we’d love the spot. I just have a few things to work out, but I will do my best to get her there by three o’clock. Does she need to bring anything?”

“We’ll just do a trial run for today, so we have everything she will need here. If you all are interested in continuing after today, we can give you a list of everything she will need for future classes.”

You barely even hear her words, too busy trying to figure out how you’re supposed to be in two places at once. You want Josie to be in this dance school desperately, but with Connor being so sick, you don’t know how to make it happen.

“Thank you, I’ll try to work it out and have her there at three,” you say, trying to sound more chipper than you are, “Thank you so much for calling.”

“Yes ma’am. See you soon!”

You disconnect the call and let out a long sigh, having wanted that phone call to come at a better time than just now. You wander back into the kitchen and find Scott and Josie still giggling at the kitchen table, and when they both look over at you, you offer a smile.

“Who was that?” Scott asks.

You give Josie a smile, “It was the dance studio I’ve been trying to get Josie into. They have an opening for this afternoon.”

“No way!” she exclaims, “Mommy, we have to go!”

Scott can see it on your face before you can even say a word. He watches as you subconsciously glance back over your shoulder, desperate to check on Connor and not sure what to do. Under normal circumstances, you’d call Rafe — at least to just talk it out. But with him in a meeting and unavailable, you don’t have that option.

“I can take her,” Scott volunteers, “I know you won’t leave Connor, so let me take her to dance. Just there and back, I promise.”

“Yes!” Josie screams, “Yes, yes, yes, yes, Mommy, yes!”

You shake your head, “Scott—”

“Y/N, let me help you out,” he says, “Come on. I can do it.”

“Mommy,” Josie repeats, “I want Uncle Scott to take me to dance.”

“Scott,” you whisper, “You’re not even supposed to be here.”

“And you’re drowning,” he points out, “I swear. I can totally handle it. I’ll even video the whole thing for you. Please, come on, let me prove myself to you. To Rafe.”

At the mention of your husband, your eyes find your phone. You want to call him more than anything, but you can’t. Then, you think about the agreement amongst parents when they’re raising children together. There are so many split second decisions that a parent has to make, so they trust that their partner will make the right one. Rafe trusts that you will make the right decision for your shared children, and right now, you can only see one.

“Okay,” you sigh. Josie’s squeals interrupt you and Scott grins, grabbing her from her chair as you add, “Just there and back. No ice cream, no playground. Just to the studio and back, alright?”

“Alright,” Scott repeats back, still smiling, “We’re gonna have so much fun, right, lovebug?”

“Right!” she squeals.

“Josie, go get your shoes, okay?” you say, watching her nod feverishly, like she just can’t wait for Scott to put her down so they can go to dance.

“Okay!” she says quickly, rushing off.

Scott laughs as he watches her go, and when he turns back to you, his expression falls.

“I need you to take extensive notes,” you say sternly, watching his smile grow once more.

“You got it,” he replies.

You allow yourself to smile, too, and he pulls you into a hug. He squeezes his thankfulness into you, and only pulls away when Josie returns with her shoes.

You hurry upstairs to check on Connor after putting Josie in her car seat and into Scott’s truck. As you feel Connor’s forehead, he stirs and groans, but he still feels very warm.

“Mama?” he whispers into the air.

“Hey, baby,” you reply, “How do you feel?”

“Not good,” he whines, “I’m cold. And I need a tissue.”

You grab the box from his nightstand and offer him one, then help him sit up. He blows his nose and hands the tissue back to you, then lays back down.

“Go back to sleep. I’ll bring you some more medicine in a little bit, okay?”

He nods. His lower lip juts out in the pout he always gives you when he’s sick, so you lean down and kiss his forehead before you stand. You retuck his blanket around him, then use careful steps to escape the dark room.

Downstairs, you hurry into the kitchen and start heating up from soup for Connor, then pour out the next dose of his medicine. You make him a nice tray of everything so he can eat in bed; complete with crackers, a water bottle, and his iPad so he can watch a show while he eats. Just as you’re putting the finishing touches on it, ready to take it upstairs and check on him again, your phone buzzes on the counter. And buzzes. And buzzes.

Scott’s contact picture lights up your screen, and you furrow your brows as you check the time. They should just be getting to the dance studio, and you wonder if someone had questions for him that he couldn’t answer.

“Hello?” you say innocently.

“Y/N,” he sighs, almost in relief, but his voice also holds another emotion, too, “Listen, don’t freak out.”

You freeze, “What? Why?”

The worst possible scenarios go through your brain instantly, and you begin to listen for signs of Josie in the background. Her laugh, her whine at Scott to hurry up.

“Just let me get it all out, first,” he demands, then groans in pain, “Fuck, okay, we got into an accident. Josie is fine. Not hurt at all. I think I broke my arm, so I’m in an ambulance. They’re taking both of us to the hospital, but she’s right here, she’s good, she’s with me.”

You suddenly can’t suck in a deep breath. All you can picture is Josie in the back of an ambulance, hurt. Josie in a car accident. Josie being scared because she doesn’t understand what’s happening.

Tears blur your vision just at the thought of her being alone, and the inhale that you try to suck in is sharp and quick.

“Let me speak to her,” you choke out.

Scott sighs but complies with your request, and you listen to their muffled voices before you get clarity.

“Mommy, Uncle Scott is hurt,” she tells you, and just the sound of her voice brings relief to your body, mind, and heart.

“Josie, baby, are you okay?” you ask her, letting the tears run without a care in the world.

“Yes, Mommy. They let me put the siren on.”

You laugh, then cry again, “Oh, that’s awesome. Listen, Mommy’s gonna come pick you up, okay? Can you just stay with Uncle Scott for a little bit?”

Josie immediately whines, “No, he’s hurt. I have to stay with him. I told Daddy I am staying.”

A fresh wave of anxiety runs through your body. The thought hadn’t even crossed your mind yet, but apparently, it had to Josie.

“You told Daddy?” you ask weakly, “When?”

“I called him,” she answers, “I was scared, and wanted Daddy.”

“Oh,” your eyes flutter shut, “Okay, honey. Just stay with Uncle Scott until I see you. I love you so much, Jo.”

“Love you, too, Mommy,” she says, sounding perfectly fine, perfectly normal, and all you want to do is get to her.

She hands the phone back to Scott, and you hear him grunt again in pain before his voice comes through the speaker.

“”Y/N, I’m sorry,” he says quietly, “It wasn’t my fault, I swear, I did everything right—”

“I’m on my way,” you cut him off, not wanting to hear any of the details right now, “Just… I love you. I’m glad you’re okay other than the arm.”

He takes a minute to answer, and you can see the exact expression on his face as he debates what’s best to do right now.

“Thanks,” he eventually says, “I love you, too.”

“See you soon,” you mumble, then disconnect the call before either one of you can say anything else.

The first thing you do is check your text messages. Rafe has sent nothing, said nothing. When it comes to Rafe, you know silence from him is worse than anything else. You take a deep breath and attempt to type out a text to him, but delete it before you can find the words to explain to him any part of it.

With a long sigh, you hurry up the stairs and into Connor’s room, forgetting all about his soup and medicine. He sits up when you enter, and when he sees the expression on your face, his eyes widen.

“What’s wrong, Mama?” he asks, coughing after he finishes his question.

“We have to go, baby. Can you come with me, please?”

He nods and stands from his bed, bringing his blanket along with him. You put socks on his feet and slide his shoes on, then carry him down the stairs, wrapped in his blanket. Your mind can’t stop running wild as you picture Josie in Scott’s truck, scared out of her mind. You don’t even notice the tears that fall until Connor reaches up and brushes them away with his finger. Giving him a kiss on the forehead, you strap him into his car seat and pull back to look at his face.

“I’m so sorry, handsome,” you whisper, “I know you don’t feel well, but we have to go pick up Josie.”

“Okay, Mama,” he replies, even going so far as to offer you a small smile.

You’re grateful for it, and you show him such. With a kiss on the cheek, you close the car door and climb into the driver’s side, all while trying not to burst into tears again.

Your knuckles turn white as you squeeze the steering wheel, glancing up at Connor every five seconds in the rear view mirror. He’s still okay, still staring out the window, but you’re paranoid about every single car that even comes close to yours.

The drive to the hospital finally comes to an end, and you’ve barely parked your car before you’re out of it again. Connor is once again placed on your hip, and you rush in from the parking lot.

Once you’re inside, you hurry to the closest nurse you can find. She directs you to a desk, who directs you to another nurse, who, finally, tells you what room number to go to. Connor buries his head in your neck and starts to cough again, and the guilt piles on top of your chest.

You finally spot the room number on the wall and rush to it, just needing to lay eyes on her. To assess her for injuries and make sure that she really is okay. When you enter, you relax instantly. Scott is laying in the bed with his arm in a sling, and Josie is seated in the middle of his chest, giggling as he pokes her stomach. They both look so happy despite their current state and what they’ve been through in the past hour.

“Josie,” you sigh in relief, setting Connor down in the singular chair before hurrying to her and pulling her into your arms.

“Mommy,” she cheers, “Look, Uncle Scott got a boo-boo.”

You cradle her head and rock her in your arms, then glance at Scott. He’s giving you a sad smile and a wave using his bad arm, but you shake your head at him.

“Is it broken?” you ask him.

“Yeah,” he replies with a shrug, “I’ll get a cool brace for it, though.”

You roll your eyes, “Scott—”

“Y/N,” he stops you, his expression suddenly serious, “The guy ran a red light. I didn’t even see him coming until— Look, I’m so sorry. It wasn’t my fault.”

“I know,” you nod, and you mean it.

He’s your brother, and you believe him. Especially because he needs you to so desperately, given that he won’t stop trying to explain himself.

“Good. Now, I have to use the bathroom, then I want to see what’s going on with Little Cam. You don’t look so hot, dude.”

Connor shrugs, “Been better.”

Scott chuckles and stands from the hospital bed, taking two steps over to Connor.

“You like my sling?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Connor smiles, “Does it hurt?”

“No, I’m tough.”

Connor laughs and so does Josie, and for a brief moment, you feel emotionally stable. You feel at peace, knowing that everyone is okay.

Then, the door pushes open, and reality slaps you right in the face. You turn too late, and Rafe’s eyes have already assessed the room. He’s frozen for a moment, long enough for you to set Josie down, because you know she’ll want to run to him.

Instead of waiting on that, however, Rafe crosses the room in a few strides, and you figure out just a beat too late what’s going to happen.

With a clenched jaw and a balled fist, Rafe states at Scott right as he starts to explain what happened.

“Yo, Rafe—” he starts, but Rafe’s fist connects with his jaw and knocks him flat on the ground.

“Oh, my God,” you yell, grabbing Josie and holding her against you while you reach for Connor’s hand.

Your only focus is getting them both out of the room. You know Scott can fight his own battles, and there’s nothing you can do to talk to Rafe when he’s like this. Looking like he knows this, Scott remains on the ground, leaving Rafe with nothing. He’s dead silent as he turns and faces you and the kids, looking away from you within the same second your eyes meet.

“Josephine,” Rafe says in relief, crossing over to you and pulling her from you without a word or a look, “Hey, princess. My girl. I was so worried about you. Are you okay?”

She nods, “Yes, Daddy. I just got scared.”

“I know you did, baby. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to comfort you. Do you have any injuries?”

Josie doesn’t respond right away, and you take it as an opportunity.

“She’s okay. I checked her when I got here.”

Rafe’s eyes flicker to you for only a moment. It’s the first time you’ve ever seen him look at you with anything besides pure admiration and love. This time, his glance is cold, calculated, and practically unrecognizable.

“Let me take you home,” he says to her, “I’m gonna take you home, and nobody will ever take you anywhere again.”

“Except for you?” she asks.

“Except for me,” he replies with a nod, “Let’s take Bubby home, too, okay?”

Your heart sinks as Rafe looks down at Connor, who is gripping his blanket tightly. When Rafe offers him a hand, Connor slips out of your grasp and takes it.

You frown, “I can take—”

“Y/N, I’m so damn pissed right now. You need to stay with your brother, since that’s clearly where you want to be.”

He doesn’t even look at you as he says it, which is what makes the tears come. He’s too busy fussing over Josie’s hair and Connor’s runny nose. Rafe grabs him a tissue, then tosses it when Connor’s done.

You look over at Scott and find him still seated on the floor, blood running down his chin from his nose, and he’s just staring at the kids. You’re sure he thinks this could be his final time seeing them in a long time, and you feel sick over that.

“Rafe,” you choke out, “Please, just listen—”

“No,” he snaps, “Not to you. I’m taking them home.”

Connor whimpers, but when Rafe takes his hand again, he doesn’t object as his dad starts to lead him out of the room. Nobody says a word, and before you can blink, the three of them are gone.

“Fuck,” Scott groans from the floor, “Y/N, I’m so—”

“Don’t,” you shake your head, turning back to him and observing his state before stepping over and offering him a hand, “Let’s just get you cleaned up.”

Scott gets released from the hospital a few hours later, and you drive him back to his apartment. Neither of you speak about anything other than the weather and your parents, because neither of you know what to say. You want to pretend like everything is fine. At least for now.

You set him up on his couch with dinner, snacks, and a blanket, then let him know that you love him no matter what. In return, he offers you his room if you need a place to crash, and you almost burst into tears right then and there.

By the time you make it home, you know the kids will already be in bed. You debate taking the long way, but the fact that Connor is sick draws you back to the house so you can check on him.

You pull your car into the garage and shut it off, then get out quickly before you can debate sitting inside for a while. You sigh and push open the door to the house, not knowing exactly what you’re walking into with Rafe.

The house is dark and silent. There’s no plate of dinner sitting on the counter for you like he usually leaves behind, and no light on in the living room to guide your path to bed. With a heavy heart, you head upstairs and peek your head into Connor’s bedroom. He’s sound asleep with a box of tissues and an empty medicine cup on his nightstand.

Of course Rafe took care of everything.

Quietly, you close his bedroom door and cross the hall over to Josie’s bedroom. When you peek in, you find her bed to be empty, but her stuffed animals are missing. Immediately, you know where she is.

You hesitate at the door to your shared bedroom with Rafe for a brief moment, then push open the door and walk inside. Rafe’s bedside lamp is on, which allows you to see him lying on his side of the bed on his side, with Josie facing him. She’s tucked in his arms and sleeping soundly, but Rafe is wide awake and watching every single breath she draws.

He never looks over at you. For a moment, you wonder if he even realizes you came into the room. When your lips part to speak, no sound comes out. You don’t know what to say or where to start.

“She could’ve been killed,” Rafe says evenly, like he’s stating a fact rather than getting emotional. His eyes don’t leave her for even a split second.

“Rafe—” you start, but he sits up carefully.

“Don’t wake her. I just got her to sleep.”

You silence yourself and stare at the two of them for a few seconds, unsure of what to do. After a moment, Rafe leans forward and brushes his lips over Josie’s forehead, then stands from the bed. He walks over to you, watching as you stand completely still in hopes that he’ll just take you into his arms and tell you that everything will be okay. Instead, he clenches his jaw and points to the door of the bedroom, silently telling you to walk through it.

Rafe follows out of the room behind you and closes the door softly. You walk out to the couch and sit down, watching his movements extra carefully. He’s in sweatpants and a black tee shirt that you’ve always loved on him, but never told him so.

You watch as he takes a deep breath, then places his hands on his hips. He doesn’t sit; he stands in front of you and keeps his eyes on anything but you.

“Why was she with your brother?”

His tone is harsh; like nothing you say in this moment could make sense to him. None of it will make any difference at all.

“Um,” you shift, your voice shaky, “She— no, okay, the dance studio called and— wait—”

“Y/N,” Rafe stops you, exhaling loudly, “I just want you to explain why she was with your brother.”

You nod, “Okay. Sorry. So, I texted Scott and told him that we weren’t comfortable having the kids see him right now. He came over here to talk to me in person, thinking the kids weren’t home, and Josie saw him. So, naturally, she wouldn’t let him go, and he was just gonna have a snack with her and then leave. But, then, that dance studio called and said they had a spot for Josie this afternoon, and the spot was going to be given away if we couldn’t make it. I didn’t want to leave Connor, and Scott offered, and— Rafe, I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head, hands still proudly glued to his hips. His eyes close under the explanation, and the way his jaw is set tells you that, although it might make sense to him, he still isn’t happy or satisfied with the explanation.

“You should have called me,” he says quietly, “I would’ve helped you work it out. I would’ve come home.”

“You were in a meeting, I didn’t want to bother you—”

“Bother me, Y/N!” he exclaims, silencing you, “Bother me. Every time. If it means I don’t get the fucking call that one of my kids has been in a car accident with someone I didn’t even want them around in the first place. How could you let her go with Scott? After we discussed it and agreed that he was off limits, you just—”

“I didn’t see any other choice,” you speak up, “I didn’t want them to give the spot away.”

“Let them give the damn spot away, then!” he cries, shaking his head, “I told you, she’d be fine dancing anywhere, but you were so dead set on this one place, and that was fine with me until you shipped her off with your brother and he almost got our daughter killed—”

“Rafe, the accident wasn’t his fault,” you say, finally having the courage to stand, “He loves her. He would never put her at risk.”

He laughs then, and it’s deep, loud, sarcastic. Your eyes hit the floor and you swallow, wanting nothing more than his touch. Despite Rafe being the one causing the ache in your chest, you know he’s the only one who can fix it. He’s the only one who can ever fix it.

“He did put her at risk, Y/N. Many times. Every time he showed up drunk, every time he stumbled down the stairs. It’s not a fucking coincidence that this happened when she was with him.”

You draw back, shaking your head, “That’s not fair. It could’ve happened to anyone. It could’ve been me—”

“Don’t,” he says immediately, stepping closer to you, “Don’t you dare go there. It wouldn’t have. It can’t.”

“Why not, Rafe?” you question, raising a brow, angry that he wants to blame everything on Scott when you don’t feel it’s his fault, “You’d blame Scott for everything if you could. If I had decided to take Josie to dance, it would’ve been me and the kids at that intersection—-”

“No!” he shouts, silencing you once again, “Stop it. It can’t happen again, Y/N. I almost lost you once, it cannot fucking happen again.”

Your lips glue shut as you realize what this is truly about for him. He runs a hand through his hair and sucks in a deep breath, letting the silence fall between the two of you.

You know exactly how Rafe has internalized the accident you were in the night of Midsummers with Topper and Kelce. You know, because he’s told you. How he had nightmares for ages afterward, how he still will grip the steering wheel with two hands when he drives with you in the car at night. How he thinks about it every year at Midsummers, regardless of how much time has passed.

Now, you can’t imagine what this will do to him. His Josie, his baby girl. Getting that call was not easy on him, you’re sure, and for a moment, you understand why he’s so angry with you for putting him in that situation.

“Rafe,” you whisper, watching the way he looks up at you with vulnerability in his eyes, “I’m so, so sorry.”

He nods, like he really just needed to hear that. You take a step closer, but before you can reach for him, he steps back.

“I need to sleep on it all. We can regroup in the morning.”

You swallow and nod, unsure of what to do with your hands. You settle for tucking them behind your back, squirming under his gaze.

“I’ll sleep upstairs. In case Connor needs anything,” you say.

“Alright,” he nods, looking at you like he’s considering something.

“Alright,” you repeat.

He sighs, like he’s annoyed with himself, then steps forward and cups your cheeks. He stares at you for a moment before placing a kiss on your forehead forcefully, then drops you from his grip completely.

You step forward out of habit, wanting his touch back. Instead of reaching for him, you just stare, knowing that he can tell what you want but refuses to give it to you.

“I love you, Rafe,” you whisper to him.

Even as angry as he is, he doesn’t miss a beat, “I love you, too.”

He nods, then turns around and leaves you like that. In the middle of the living room with his kiss still lingering on your forehead, and his words sitting in front of you, etching themselves into your heart so you never forget them.

When you wake in the morning, your first thought is of Connor. You don’t allow yourself to think of anything else, because it weighed on you all night, until you just couldn’t take it anymore. You cried in the guest room bed. Buried your face in a pillow and sobbed as you relived the day, your choices, and what became of them. You cry for Josie, for Rafe, for Scott. You cry because all you’d wanted to do was make the right choice for all of them, and you wound up only making the wrong ones.

So, when you wake up with swollen under eyes and a red nose, the only thing you allow yourself to think about is Connor.

He’s asleep when you enter his room, and when you feel his forehead, he feels the same as he had last night. You make a mental note to bring up more medicine for him, then take his temperature.

Slipping back out of his room, you head downstairs. Your stomach twists as you hear Rafe talking to Josie in the kitchen, and the thought of facing him without knowing exactly how he feels today makes you anxious.

As you walk in, you find Josie sitting on the counter and Rafe at the stove, where he flips a pancake in the pan. Josie giggles at something he said, and Rafe laughs back. His eyes catch on you, and for a brief moment, he smiles. Then, he drops it and looks down.

“Hi, Mommy!” Josie cheers, “Daddy’s staying home today! He said I could, too.”

“He did, huh?” you smile at her, walking around the island to embrace her.

“Thought I could, considering we’re not consulting each other on decisions anymore,” Rafe mutters.

For Josie’s sake, you ignore him, but you stare at him while you do it. In no way can you tell Rafe how to feel or act, but you’re shocked at how openly petty he’s being.

“Rafe—”

He cuts you off when he spins around with a plate in his hand, then gives Josie a wide smile.

“Alright, princess, your breakfast is ready. Go sit at the table for me.”

He carries Josie’s plate over as you help her down from the counter, then watch her take off to her seat. Once she’s settled, Rafe comes back into the kitchen, but he doesn’t spare you a single glance.

“How’d you sleep?” you try, stepping closer.

“I didn’t,” he replies as he pours more pancake batter into the pan, “She did. All night.”

You swallow, “Good. So, listen, I was hoping—”

“I’m taking her to my parents’ today. We’ll swim and visit with Topper and Ellie. I figure Connor needs quiet, anyway.”

“Oh, okay,” you nod weakly, “Do you think we could talk later, though?”

“I don’t know.”

You frown and look at the floor, then glance over at the coffee pot. What’s usually filled halfway for you is now empty, and you know the pancakes he’s making on the stove are for himself. It makes your heart ache, to think that he’s so angry with you that he no longer wants to take care of you.

“Rafe, I just… I want to fix it,” you practically beg, “Please.”

He drops the spatula on the counter before he turns to you, keeping his voice low on account of Josie.

“This isn’t just something you can fix, Y/N. You hurt me. You prioritize your brother over our kids and you always have. Every time he stumbles in drunk, you always tell him it’s okay. It’s not. This time, you let him take our daughter and they got into an accident. She could’ve gotten really hurt. I’m not okay with that, and I never will be. Until you can get your priorities straight, I’m not interested in what you have to say.”

You step back from him and swallow the lump in your throat. Instead of just rolling over, you want to explain your thought process — have an actual conversation instead of bickering over the stove.

“He’s sick, Rafe. He’s an alcoholic. Guilting him every time he comes to us like that isn’t going to help him,” you reply, trying to stay strong despite the tears stinging your eyes, “And, how dare you accuse me of not prioritizing our family. This is my top priority— my only priority. I made a judgment call, and I was wrong, I admit it. If I could go back and change it, I would.”

He shrugs, looking back down at the pancake, “But, you can’t.”

His left hand rests on the counter where he leans, supporting his body. You want to reach out and grab it, pull him into you and keep him close as you tell him that you’re sorry over and over again. You give in before you can help yourself, and when you cover his hand with your own, he doesn’t pull away immediately.

“Rafe, please,” you beg, but you’re not sure for what exactly. His eyes. His love. His forgiveness.

“Don’t,” he says, pulling hand from under yours, “You really hurt me this time.”

Before you can say anything else, he plates his pancakes, then turns to face Josie.

She grins when she sees him holding up his own plate, and he puts on his parent mask as he nears her.

“Can we eat together, baby?” he asks enthusiastically, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was absolutely, positively, fine.

After Josie and Rafe leave, you bring Connor downstairs. You cuddle with him when he asks for it, you make him soup, give him more medicine, and watch Paw Patrol until he falls asleep on your lap.

You, however, don’t nap. You stare at your phone screen, at a drafted text to Rafe as your thumb hovers over the send button.

I hope you know that I didn’t mean to hurt you. Or Josie. I never would. The three of you are my priority. We can talk more when you’re ready, but I just want you to know that I’m thinking about what you said and I want to work this out with you more than anything. Please come home.

You debate taking off the plea for him to come home, but you decide to leave it and press send. When you see that it went through, you put your phone down and take a deep breath, then leave your eyes glued to the screen so you can see the second he responds.

When your phone does light up again, you pounce on it. You frown when you see Maddie’s name at the top of the new text, asking you why Rafe canceled the dinner plans that you two had with Maddie and Kelce tonight — which you’d completely forgotten about.

You reply quickly and tell her that Connor is sick, and debate asking her if she can talk on the phone so you can get advice. However, you decide against it and fire off your excuse just as Rafe’s response comes in.

We will pick up dinner and be there soon. How’s Connor?

You smile, because something about this feels like progress. Silently, you look down to the sleeping boy, running your hand through his hair because you just can’t help yourself.

He’s good. Sleeping off the fever, I hope. Thank you for getting dinner!

He won’t respond to that and you know it, but you don’t care. At least he gave you one response.

Connor wakes just before Josie and Rafe get home, and with a perfect temperature, he says he wants to stay downstairs for dinner. You nod and give him a hug, and when you hear the garage door open, you wave him up and into the kitchen.

“Mommy!” Josie shouts when she enters the house, “Look, Daddy got me a princess sticker!”

She holds it up to you proudly as you hug her tight, “Oh, I love it, Jo.”

She beams and moves over to show it to Connor as Rafe walks in. He holds a pizza in his left hand and Josie’s bag in his right. You don’t miss the name on the pizza box — your favorite place, meaning he had to drive fifteen extra minutes each way to get it instead of getting the easy, shitty pizza down the street.

“You got Lighthouse,” you say, biting your lip to hide a smile as you acknowledge his drive to the pizza place.

“Yeah, I—” he stops himself and closes his eyes, then shakes his head before repeating, “Yeah.”

You take a daring step forward, “Thank you.”

He nods once, and when you see him swallow down his impulse to reach for you, to hug you and kiss you and ask about your day, he looks over to the kids.

“Hey, Connor. How are you feeling, buddy?”

Rafe steps past you to get to him, and the pizza you’d just been swooning over suddenly doesn’t seem as appetizing. Regardless, you get plates out and divide up slices while Rafe works behind you to get everyone drinks. He pours juice out for the kids and tells them to sit at the table, then gets a beer for himself. He doesn’t ask you what you want because he already knows, and he sets the glass of white wine at your place setting.

Dinner is quiet, but you pretend it’s only because Josie is tired from swimming all day and Connor isn’t feeling well. Everything feels off because you and Rafe didn’t work today — you told Rose that Connor was sick — and Josie didn’t go to school. It feels like it should be a weekend, but it’s not.

You want to ask Rafe if he plans on going back to work tomorrow. If he wants to sleep next to you tonight, because you want to sleep next to him. You want to ask him everything, anything, just to get him to look at you.

After dinner, Rafe volunteers himself to do bath and bedtime, which leaves you downstairs to clean up the small mess from the meal. As you clean, you spot a tub of ice cream in the freezer and pull it out, smiling to yourself at your little idea.

When Rafe comes back downstairs, he doesn’t look for you. Instead, he makes his way into your shared bedroom, already peeling off his shirt in preparation for a shower when he freezes. You’re sitting on his side of the bed with two small bowls of ice cream and that pout on your lips that you know he loves. He visibly softens at the sight, and when you hold up the bowl, his jaw ticks.

“You’re something else,” he mutters, more to himself than to you, as he crosses the room shirtless.

You give him a small smile as he plants himself beside you and accepts the bowl. His knee touches yours, and you feel giddy inside when he doesn’t pull himself away.

“I’m trying, Rafe,” you whisper as he takes a bite, staring down at the bowl instead of you, “I’m trying to figure out what to do. Because I miss you. And I know I made a mistake. But I don’t want to cut my brother off in the process of working this out. He’s doing better, and I’m afraid that would trigger him into a relapse, or something.”

“I get that,” he murmurs.

“So, let’s talk about it. All three of us. Let’s set clear boundaries and we can even make a timeline—”

“Y/N,” Rafe practically laughs, “I already did that with you. I told you that I wasn’t ready. I set my boundary, and you crossed it.”

You swallow, “I know, but I think it will help if Scott is clued in, too. That way, wires don’t get crossed, and we can all—”

“We can all what?” he scoffs, standing up, “Live happily ever after? Scott can worm his way back into our kids’ lives? I cave on a lot of shit for you, Y/N, but this is not something you can ask me to do.”

“Rafe, I’m not asking you to change how you feel,” you reply, your voice small and pleading, as if silently begging him to sit back down with you, “Please, I’m not. I’m just trying to make everyone happy.”

He shakes his head and lets his eyes close, rolling them behind his lids, “That’s the problem with you. You’re always so focused on how everyone else feels. You’re so afraid to tell Scott ‘no’ because you’re afraid you’ll be responsible for a relapse if you do. You know what, Y/N? You’re allowed to be selfish. You’re allowed to stand up for yourself and our children. Scott is a grown ass man, and his choices are his own. You baby the fuck out of him, and it needs to stop.”

You digest Rafe’s words, letting them hang in the air between the two of you. On one hand, you want to fight back. You want to tell him that Scott is your family, and you’re just trying to help. On the other hand, you see how trying to help turned into Josie being in an accident. Then, you hear Rafe’s words in your head once more.

I cave on a lot of shit for you.

He does, and you know it. With a deep breath, you nod your head, willing to sacrifice for him the way he always does for you — without a second thought.

“Okay,” you whisper, watching his eyes dart to you, “Alright. I’ll take space. I’ll work on it. Whatever is best for you and the kids, I will do that.”

Rafe stares at you like that’s the last thing he expected you to say. His hands meet his hips and he assesses you from head to toe before swallowing.

“Maybe you should sleep on that decision,” he says carefully.

You shake your head, ignoring the stinging in your eyes. He watches you carefully as you stand up and step over to him, then place a gentle hand on his chest. You can feel his heart racing, and you want to smile at the thought of still being able to do that to him after all this time.

“I don’t need to. You’re right, I let people walk all over me because I don’t want to disappoint anyone. But, our marriage is my priority, and our children are my priority, and I need to do better. I’m sorry, Rafe, I’m so sorry.”

His eyes close when your lips ghost over his cheek. His fists ball at his sides as he fights the urge to pull you in, to forget it all and just let his body take over. You move down and kiss along his jawline, then back up to his mouth. You let your lips hover for a moment, giving him time to object, before you lean closer.

“Y/N,” he whispers at the very last second, “You can’t just tell me what I want to hear because we’re in a fight. You need to figure this shit out for yourself.”

“Rafe,” you sigh, but he shakes his head.

“I need some time, too. This really rattled me, and I need to figure out how I want to proceed.”

You furrow your brows, “How you want to proceed? Like, with us?”

You fear the answer more than anything, but you need to hear it.

“With everything,” he replies, “I just… I need sleep. So do you.”

You nod but don’t say a word, standing there and thinking about the melting ice cream that sits on your bed.

Rafe takes a deep breath and watches as you avoid his eyes, then sighs and steps forward. You think he might reach out to touch you, grab you, kiss you, anything. Instead, he picks up his pillow from his side of the bed and steps back, offering you half a smile.

“I’ll be on the couch,” he mumbles, “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” you reply.

He picks up the two ice cream bowls and carries them to the door, turning back and staring at the scene in front of him for a moment. You, still standing on his side of the bed, where you know you’ll sleep tonight.

“Love you,” he whispers.

“Love you, too.”

He nods and then closes the door behind him. Only then do you fall into his side of the bed and inhale his scent on the sheets, allowing your tears to fall right where you lay. You don’t grab a pillow, you don’t cover yourself with a blanket. You just cry until your body grows so tired that it forces you to sleep, with swollen eyes and a regretful heart.

You jolt awake to the sound of the doorknob to your bedroom rattling up and down a few times, which immediately has you sitting up in bed. Your first thought is that it’s Connor trying to get in because he’s sick, and your heart sinks at the thought of him having gotten worse.

Which is why, when Rafe comes rushing into the room, your eyes grow wide. He’s shirtless and his hair is a mess, but more than that, he looks completely terrified. Your heart races as he starts over to you at a fast pace, lips parted like he’s trying to speak, but can’t.

“Rafe, what is it?” you ask softly.

His breaths are shallow and jagged, and when he tries to inhale, it seems like he can’t. You scoot closer to the edge of the bed, and when he rounds the mattress and gets to you, he sinks to his knees in front of you.

“You’re okay,” he whispers in relief, beginning to check you from top to bottom with his eyes and hands, “Fuck, thank God.”

His palms grip your forearms and he flips them over to check for any sort of marking or injury, then moves down your body to your legs. He runs his hands over every square inch of your skin, and you let him.

“Of course I’m okay,” you reply, grabbing one of his hands in yours, “What’s wrong? What happened?”

He lets out a long breath, then shakes his head, but his hands never leave you. He grips you tight, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go for even a moment.

“Nothing, nothing,” he rushes, “Just a bad dream, I guess. Felt real.”

You tense, “Are you having nightmares again?”

He shrugs, but when you cup his cheek with your free hand, he nods.

“Yeah,” he admits shyly, “I, um, I know we’re in a weird place right now, but—”

“Come to bed,” you demand, tugging him in.

He nods, as if that’s exactly what he wanted you to say. You scoot over just enough for him to crawl onto the mattress, then bury yourself in him the moment he’s laying flat. His arms wrap around you and your head presses against his heart; this time racing for a different reason.

Just as you settle and the room falls silent, you debate what to say. If you should ask any questions or just let him be. Rafe speaks, silencing your mind.

“Y/N,” he whispers into the darkness, “I have to tell you something.”

“Tell me,” you encourage, squeezing him slightly.

He takes a long moment to start, but when he does, you can tell by the shakiness in his voice that he’s emotional.

“I think part of the reason I got so upset with you was because I was very aware of the fact that it could’ve been the three of you at that intersection. Even though you let Scott take her against my wishes, you still made the right choice, somehow. Because, I swear, if I had gotten a call that all of you were at the hospital, I think I would’ve had a heart attack right then and there in my office.”

“Rafe,” you whine, cuddling closer.

He shakes his head, “Let me finish, okay, baby?”

“Okay,” you whisper.

“I’m terrified that something will happen one day. That I won’t be there to protect you, or stop it, or fix it, and this whole thing really brought that fear out of me. I know that I seem overprotective with the kids, especially with Scott, but I just can’t stand the thought of something happening to them. To you. You’re my entire world, Y/N. I just need you to understand that.”

“I do understand that,” you answer, heart hammering in your chest, “But, we also can’t live our lives in fear of what could happen. All we can do is take precautions and make informed decisions together. I fucked up, and I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you, Rafe. I would never, ever do that on purpose. I love you too much to even consider it.”

He swallows roughly, “I know, sweetheart.”

You want to say more, to spill your guts and tell him every thought you’ve had for the past twenty four hours. Instead, you cuddle deeper into him and inhale his scent, then kiss his cheek.

“You should sleep, handsome,” you whisper against his skin, “I’m right here, and I’m okay. We’ll work it out in the morning.”

He nods, then presses a kiss into your hair, “I’m in love with you.”

“I’m in love with you, too,” you reply, “That means you’re stuck with me.”

He chuckles lightly, “Good.”

You smile against him, then kiss his cheek once more before you resign to laying your head on his chest. Both of you are asleep in seconds, surrounded in the warmth and love of the other.

When you wake up in the morning, your hands are both tangled in Rafe’s. You feel his smooth palms in yours and you smile before you even open your eyes to find him. When you do, he’s laying across from you, already wide awake. When his eyes meet yours, his lips tip up in a smile.

"What are you staring at?” you ask teasingly, shifting closer.

“My wife,” he replies in that morning voice that always seems to get you, “My beautiful, infuriating wife.”

You laugh, even though it shouldn’t be funny. He smiles a real smile then, and you bask in it. Having not seen it in what feels like forever, you want to keep it there for the rest of your life.

“Rafe,” you whisper. “I—”

“I know,” he stops you, tugging you closer, “I know you’re sorry. I don’t want to fight anymore.”

“Really?” you ask hopefully.

“Mhm,” he hums, “Can you just promise that you’ll call me the next time you don’t know what to do? No matter what?”

You nod, “I promise.”

“Thank you,” he says, then takes a breath before saying, “Now, about your brother.”

“I still want him in my life, Rafe. But, I’ll meet up with him and really discuss boundaries and everything. I’ll take the house key from him. I will do whatever makes you feel the most comfortable, but I won’t cut him out.”

He nods, “I’m not asking you to cut him out, baby. Not at all. You just need to be more firm with him. You know Scott, you give him an inch, he takes a mile.”

“I know,” you reply, dropping your shoulders at the evident quality your brother possesses, “I’ll work on being more assertive with my boundaries when it comes to him.”

“Good. You deserve to be appreciated and respected. You’re not a doormat for your brother and his issues.”

You know Rafe’s right, but you’re not ready to admit that that might just be what Scott has been doing to you. That he knows you’ll go easy on him, so he comes to you first. You haven’t wanted to see it, so you don’t.

“So, we’re okay?” you ask, biting your lip.

He stares at you for a moment, and you notice how his look of admiration has returned. You smile as he begins to nod, then squeeze his hand.

“We’re okay,” he replies, “Sorry if I scared you last night.”

“You did. Do you think our fight brought it on?”

He shrugs, “The fight. Josie being in the accident. I’m sure it will go away in the next few nights, as I calm down.”

You nod in understanding, then place a few gentle pecks onto his bare chest.

“If there’s anything I can do, tell me,” you murmur, “You’re never alone.”

“Thank you, baby.”

As much as you want to stay and bask in his body heat, you know you should get up to check on Connor and take him more medicine. Rafe can feel you tense as you prepare to move, and his grip tightens.

“Rafe—”

“He’s fine,” Rafe bluffs, “Don’t get up.”

“I have to.”

He laughs gruffly, then releases you. Reluctantly, you climb from the bed in your tank top and short shorts, eliciting a groan from Rafe where he lays. Without being able to contain himself, it seems, he reaches over and swats your backside as you escape from the bed, earning a jaw drop from you.

“Sorry,” he grins mischievously.

“Sure you are,” you mutter, “You’re lucky I love you.”

“I really am, sweetheart. I remind myself every day.”

You know he’s being his silly self, but the words bring butterflies to your stomach. You grin and turn back to look at him as you walk toward your bedroom door, taking a mental picture of him laying in bed with his shirt off and his hair messy. He’s practically begging you to come back to him, and for a moment, you strongly consider it.

“Don’t move,” you command, “I’ll be back in ten.”

He chuckles, “Yes ma’am.”

You hurry from the room and up the stairs, already missing Rafe’s heat and the comfort of your bed with him in it. You’re already making plans for when you return to your bedroom, because although fighting with Rafe is one of the worst things in your entire world, making up is your absolute favorite.

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