#she's so bubbles coded | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kleptokure · 2 months ago

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Chaotic Crushes ᰔᩚ

Burning Spice & Golden Cheese, Mystic Flour & Dark Cacao, Shadow Milk & Pure Vanilla x GN!Reader (separate pairs)

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Burning Spice Cookie & Golden Cheese Cookie

The day was moving along as it tends to. There were no duties that called for your aid, and you could rest as much as you liked. While that did sound nice, you decided to log into a game you play quite frequently: Cookie Run: Kingdom.

Hopping onto your device, you found you had little to do. Nothing much besides the daily activities until the next update comes out. Before the inevitable of logging off, you wanted to play around with your favorite pair of counterparts: Burning Spice Cookie and Golden Cheese Cookie. It wouldn't hurt to have a bit more fun.

You located the two and dragged them to an open area in your kingdom. They did not share an interaction, but you liked to pretend the both of them were annoyed with the other's presence. While they were your favored, you enjoyed bringing about their forced bonding. It's not like they can deny the player.

Random dialogue appeared above their heads, which was nothing out of the usual. In spite of that, there was a chat bubble that made you look twice.

"I do not see what you gain from this!"

Golden Cheese Cookie held the stance of staring into your screen, as if she truly was speaking to you. Of course, that would be nonsense since this is a game. And yet your next actions include clicking on Golden Cheese repeatedly. You search for that same sentence, but nothing alike appears.

Her Radiance then returns to a normal pose, which settles you a bit. Still, maybe you should have taken up on that nap earlier.

To return yourself to peace, you drag the beast back to the side of the ancient. They behave as coded. Somehow, you retain that sense of unease. It seems you can't let that mishap slide by. You were right to do so because another so-called accident appeared.

"Your badgering has grown boring over time!"

Your eyes hovered over the chat from Burning Spice Cookie. The pose of looking your way was taken by him as well. You begin to think, was there an update you missed? You are positive you would have known at least something of it. The cookies cannot simply act how they please all of a sudden.

You are growing both anxious and amused. The factor of mirth was less, though. With that said, you decided to log off for a moment. Cookie Run: Kingdom did not appeal to you like it tends to.

But it seems the game was persistent in having your attention. You were unable to pull out of the tab at all. It was stuck on your screen, with the music playing in the background as always.

Irritated, you scrutinized your screen. There were no pop-ups that were notifying of a bad connection, and all movement progressed with zero delay. Your eyes felt the need to trail back to Golden Cheese and Burning Spice, only to find the pair with their eyes staring at you. This time, they took up no other actions. Just a long, hard stare your way.

You were beginning to freak out. The situation was not looking upwards due to the fact of your screen zooming in by its own commands. All you could see was the two of them.

You confirmed it yourself; your game was broken in some way. It was hard to know how. As much as you wanted to ponder over the circumstances, you were gifted no time to. Your screen became a blinding white, and you backed away from it. Whatever was happening, it was intentional.

You wait for an event, yet your eyes catch nothing amiss. Your screen was black, meaning the entire game decided to shut off. Oh well. That was preferable anyway. Now you feel silly for being afraid. But then your ears catch an unexpected noise.

Inspecting, you witness hands extending out of your display. To reiterate, hands are coming out of your screen. The sight may be in front of you, but you pinch yourself in hopes of this being a terrible nightmare. Much to your dismay, you experienced the pain.

Running out of your room was a smarter choice, yet you backed into a corner. Fear engulfed you, and you were too afraid to watch. You relied entirely on your hearing, which brought a loud laugh that echoed off the walls. Silence followed after, sending off a false sense of security.

Footsteps were loud against your floor. Before you could grasp onto the noise, hands grasped around you. You were lifted off of the floor and carried by a muscular subject.

Now opening your eyes, there was much to indulge in. You were unaware of what to concentrate on. The strong aroma of spice nearby did not assist your focus. Even so, you believe you know what predicament you have fallen in. Is that truly who you think it is?

"How dare you place your hands on my treasure? Release them at once!" With a voice so divine and a presence that shines like gold, Golden Cheese Cookie stood in your room. Hovered, to be exact. Her wings defied what was humanly possible.

Holding you was the person she shouted at. The scent that stems from them left you with one guess.

"Hah! You dare tell me what to do? They shall be for my appeasement," the booming voice of Burning Spice Cookie states. You could feel the muscle in his arms, which were wrapped around your side. It seems he came into your world just as brawny as he was spoken to be in his own dimension.

For the slightest second, you squirmed to readjust your position. Your small movement caught the gaze of the two. Their eyes burned into your skin like you did something wrong.

For reasons unknown to you, Burning Spice Cookie released his grip around your figure. You took the chance of backing away from them, their sights not leaving you for a moment.

Golden Cheese inched closer to you, and Burning Spice behaved the same. She sent him a harsh stare; he returned it. Another argument would arise soon. That is the last act you would want executed, so you spoke up for once, ridding yourself of your shell-shocked behavior.

"Hey," you said, your tone not exactly still. Once again, you had their attention, which included their unsettling stare. Your next words did not follow after since you were unsure of what to say. Calm down? It would be hypocritical to demand an attitude you don’t even own right now. You chose to question instead.

"How... How are you both here right now?" Even now, you are not certain of the way they arrived. Could they merely just jump out of the game at any time? If so, why could they not appear in their cookie form? Circumstances would be much simpler then.

You did take note of their somewhat kind bearing towards you. Golden Cheese Cookie deemed you her treasure, and Burning Spice Cookie regarded you as his form of appeasement. You do not recall doing much for them in the game. How could they view you so highly?

Then you remember the starting signs of this entire situation. They stared at you from within the game, which means they can see you, which means they could see you this whole time. The idea does not settle well. Perhaps they could hear you coo over them at random intervals as well.

Now that you believe you have a few facts understood, you wait for a reasonable response from one of them.

"Right! Excuse my rude entry, darling. I have desired to see you for quite some time now, you know..." Golden Cheese Cookie sounds displeased for a matter you were unable to control. By some means, you feel guilty.

"You," Burning Spice started off. His tone startled you a bit. "You are far from boring. I have ached to find my way to you." He stepped closer, a grin spread on his face. "I have you now." You gulped at his last claim. You are sure he means that.

"Shall I inflict my radiance upon your stupidity once more?" Golden Cheese Cookie did not take a liking to his declaration over you. If her weapon came along, there would surely be a brawl. You are starting to see a pattern for the reasonings of their quarrels.

"How about we all sit down?" You suggested before Burning Spice could respond to the threat Golden Cheese sent. You made a trail towards your bed and sat down. Thankfully, they followed in your steps. You were glad your bed did not collapse under their weight.

Their compliance is surprising. They manage to tower over you, and the power that accompanies them is greater than yours. It is an odd feeling to have both of the mighty beings seemingly under your command. It is not a bad feeling, though.

Golden Cheese Cookie put her wings to rest. She made herself a seat right to your side. Her wing snuck around your shoulder.

Burning Spice Cookie spared no time for her attempts at flattery. He took a seat next to your other side, pressing his own skin to yours. Her wing was moved aside, replaced by his head smushing to your cheek. It is obvious he was curious about your nature.

It would appear these cookies know nothing of personal space, yet in reality, they do. The both of them simply deem it unnecessary when it comes to you.

"So, um, why are the both of you here?" Since your last question was ignored, you brought up another. You received their claims of wanting to meet you, but why? Was remaining inside the borders of their game not satisfying enough?

"Subjected to the unworthy matters of such a monotonous game," he huffed, like the memory pained him. "But then there was you. Your presence was a constant—yet your arrival excited me all the same." A chuckle brewed within him. "I craved the thrill you give."

His statement was strangely flirtatious, all spoken in a proper manner as well. It could cause your stomach to flutter. His fiery eyes, paired with his long lashes... Burning Spice Cookie was a sight to behold in his human form, and that was a plain fact.

You turned away from him, giving a hum in response. He was bored and stuck in a game. His motive was understandable, as anyone would go crazy under that situation.

Golden Cheese Cookie released a sigh intertwined with annoyance. It was clear she did not care a bit about Burning Spice's reason. Clearing her throat, she brought the attention to herself.

"Well, how could I not want to meet the one responsible for all my prosperity?" Her eyes sparkled while they fixed upon yours. She appeared even more divine than she did in the game.

"I only wished to thank you face-to-face." Her hand snuck into yours, attaching your palms together in a tight grasp. "You've provided me with an abundance of gold, yet my most prized possession is right here," she declared.

It is getting really hot in here now. You were bound to end up flushed between the two of them, but their words caused circumstances to grow poor. You would not want to mistake anything, but how else would one take their statements? The way they look at you with such admiration? You believe you'll faint.

"It's no big deal, really," you assured. Your eyes averted from hers since you found her stare overbearing.

Burning Spice Cookie was nowhere near fond of the sight of you and that woman, who he believes would be better off elsewhere.

Snatching away your attention from the greedy queen, Burning Spice placed his hand upon your lower back, pushing you closer to him. While you wanted to look anywhere but at a pair of eyes, he focused your gaze on his own.

"Appeasement," he titled you, "amuse me."

An odd choice of a nickname, but you find it fitting when it comes from him. Focusing on his request, you find yourself lost. How could you amuse a beast of destruction? There is no way you would challenge him in combat, so you think of a choice you would be capable of.

"Nonsense! They do not have to appeal to the likes of you," Golden Cheese Cookie sneered. She could be correct, yet you acted in the interest of the man anyway.

Shifting upwards, you pulled yourself to press a kiss to the cheek of the beast. The second after, you felt sick with apprehension. Was that the best option in mind? There must have been an alternative to please his constant need for entertainment.

In spite of your assumptions, Burning Spice Cookie was delighted. Within his mind, he presumes he will never find himself bored with you present.

To express his gratification, he releases the sound of boisterous laughter. Once again, he tightens his arms around you, which could be concluded as his form of a hug.

"Yes...! That's the rush I crave! Appeasement, amuse me again." Maybe introducing him to your small way of amusement was a bad choice. He is as greedy as his counterpart.

Speaking of his counterpart, her radiance is far from pleased. You dared to press your lips to the skin of that brute? Oh, you must have felt pressured, she claims. Fear not, as your queen is nowhere far.

She pulls you from the arms of her enemy. Commencing her wings to flight, Golden Cheese Cookie carries you in her own hold, which she deems where you will be far more content.

"You vermin! I will—" The scolding that approached the man came to a pause. The mouth Golden Cheese has was sealed due to your abrupt action. She received your soft kiss to her cheek, causing her anger to diminish into dust.

For a gesture so small, Golden Cheese Cookie feels the urge to request an abundance more of your affection. She presumes you would not hesitate if she asked. You were so giving when it came to her gold; would you provide a different source the same way if inquired?

She will question you later, preferably at a distance away from the beast. For now, you are returned to your feet and given your freedom.

The two are surprisingly silent. Still, you can catch them eyeing you, and their stares speak for them. It seems to be a matter you will have to learn to get used to, as it is not looking to be going away.

You hope they can attempt to coexist since you are positive they plan to stay awhile. Or they will refuse, and persistent fights will arrive. Regardless, a kiss could potentially help, based on the behavior they exuded moments prior.

While you're here, things will be under control. You'll have to be the one to assist with their questions. They will have a lot to ask about your world and a lot to ask about you. Nonetheless, they will be fine. But will you?

Mystic Flour Cookie & Dark Cacao Cookie

Late at night, you were awake in your bed. At an hour like this, it would be best to go to bed, but your sleep schedule was already ruffled. You saw no reason in attempting to fix it now. Besides, there were significant issues that required your aid. Those issues may be within a game, but they remain problems all the same.

While you do love Cookie Run: Kingdom, you were growing tired of logging in to repeat the same actions. In all honesty, you were missing a few days of resources that you could claim. The whole of your motivation was left to your guild. You did not want to get kicked for inactivity.

You were amidst your dark room, the lone source of light acting as the screen displaying the game. Your eyes exhibited boredom as you waited for each of the nine battles to end. The 2x button seemed like it was failing to help.

At the commencement of the final battle, you glanced at your team, which included Dark Cacao Cookie, along with his opposite, Mystic Flour Cookie. You are aware there is dialogue between him and his son at the start of a shared battle, so you tend to pay the text bubbles no mind.

This time around, you took a glimpse of what they conversed about. To your surprise, it seemed like you were included in his conversation.

"Why must you be so distant at times?"

You do not believe you read that correctly, but a quick read over proves you wrong. What does he mean by that? Was he talking to Dark Choco Cookie? It could apply to him, but such can be said for you as well. You have failed to log in for a few days now.

It must be something you are unaware of. You would rather not bother your mind with what appears to be a bug. Then again, you still played out a practice guild battle to investigate your worries. You eyed your team, and there popped another sentence, but not from the cookie anticipated.

"I have longed for the sight of you once more."

Now, it was Mystic Flour Cookie who acted bugged. Seriously, what was up with your game? You do not pay much attention to your battles; that much is true, yet you believe you would have taken note of their dialogue by now.

Aiming to make sense of the situation, you check the game's update log. You scroll, your eyes trailing over each bar of text to find what could settle your worries. There was nothing to be seen, and you were left clueless.

Thinking over what happened, you conclude this was nothing to fret about. It could very well be a mistake that the developers released by accident. After all, it is just a cookie game. They are all coded to act how they do. It would be silly to think they're sentient.

Before you went to bed, you took the two cookies who had startled you: Mystic Flour and Dark Cacao. You drag them to interact with random objects placed in your kingdom. It made you feel the slightest bit better.

"To even think you guys were real... Maybe I'm missing too much sleep," you spoke to your screen. You did not expect an answer in return.

"I am real."

What? Okay, now you realize the state of your affairs. That could not possibly be programmed into Dark Cacao Cookie's chat. Your game is absolutely hacked, or bugged, or something. It has to be something.

"I'll show you if I must."

Those next words send you into a panic. When did this become a horror game? How does she plan to display an impossible act? It was impossible for her to become existent, right?

If it were true, then you would like to prevent it. The timing was much too far into the night for events like this to be happening. With a quick mind, you conjure up a reaction.

"Wait! Wait, how about... no?" You tried to let your response down softly as to not offend whatever sentience was before you. It would be breathtaking to witness a humanized cookie, but the dark in your room made you think otherwise.

Your rejection was not taken as lightly as you wished, though. They were not as quick with sending out responses compared to before. In fact, your entire screen went black, most likely due to the power of them. This was all appearing far too genuine to entertain the thought of this being a dream.

Using your nimble wit, the best choice of action was to flee. Where? Your closet. Although when you take place behind the closed door, you realize that a different location would have been better.

It was too late. Your brain had played tricks on you by now, making you believe whatever was out for you took place in your room. As might be expected, you soon realized that was stupid. Your subconscious was scared, and you knew it.

What was there to be afraid of? You said it was simply a cookie game. There is not anything out for you. Your mind was eased, and you stepped out of your hiding place.

It goes without saying, there was nothing within your space. No monster, no cookies, nothing. A sigh you were unaware of holding escaped from your mouth. Then the sigh was not the only sound inside of your room.

The next thing you knew, there was a loud tumble audible, and you jumped out of surprise. After that, there came your returning fear. It may have been dark, but you could notice the outlines of two people, who were beginning to stand up.

Before anything else, you turn on your side lamp. You were scared, yes, but you would also like to see the face of what would end you. With a spring of light, you look forward.

In front of your eyes, you could observe recognizable faces. It did not take long for you to understand what happened.

"Your resolution irks me to no end. There is no reason for you to be here," spoke the pale lady, her voice firm in tone.

"Yet again, you stand in my way. I will cut you down once more if necessary," the man folded his arms. The hostility in the air was thick. You are well aware of the past between the two of them. It looks to be that they shared a matching goal: reaching you.

"Holy..." You breathed out in shock. Despite the rapid amount of blinks you took, the pair remained ahead of you. This is far from imaginary. You have Dark Cacao Cookie and Mystic Flour Cookie amidst your room.

Your singular word attracted the gaze of them both. Unlike them, you were unable to vocalize your feelings. It was obvious you were shocked. It was no problem in their opinion. As nice as your voice sounds, they came here to lay their eyes upon you in person.

Her footsteps were agile; it did not appear as if she even moved. In the next second, Mystic Flour stood before you. You leaned back, yet she leaned in. Her eyes opened, revealing the darkened stare she owned.

Even with features that would seem disturbing, Mystic Flour Cookie appeared ethereal. It was captivating to witness her from a distance, whereas the shortened proximity taps at your nerves. You pray any of your prior words had not insulted her.

Her hand crept to your cheek. "It is you," she whispered, her touch gentle when in contact with your skin. Your mouth was dry, yet you evoked your response in due time.

"...Are you real?" Your voice was quiet as you asked for confirmation. You felt as if you were getting swallowed in her unwavering gaze, but you kept still. Her hand was cold at the time she cupped your cheek.

Dark Cacao Cookie stepped forward, disliking the view he saw. "She should not be here." His hand fell onto her shoulder, increasing the space between you and her.

Mystic Flour Cookie's face twitched, and she brushed the hand of the man off of her shoulder. It did not take much to notice their hatred for one another. You would rather there arise another topic since it seemed like the two would argue at any moment.

"Dark Cacao Coo—or, just Dark Cacao, how are you..." Your sentence had not come to finish, as you cut yourself off at the sight of the lord stepping closer. It was to no one's surprise that he towered over you. His hand dropped its secure grip on your shoulder. They both come off as touchy, you believe.

"I have managed to achieve my true strength. I am able to protect my kingdom with ease and fight for my subjects. My sword has grown sharper—because of you." His stare was resolute as he looked your way. You felt your ego inflate due to his words. How nice it felt to experience a lord expressing gratitude for you, albeit he originates from a game.

"I did that? I mean, yeah, I did that! It was easy, really. You were very deserving of it." It was like all of your previous anxiety had diminished. Since you were aware they held you in high regard, you would play along. It brought no harm to.

You catch sight of Dark Cacao's bashful face. It looks like your words went to fluster him. He will have to get accustomed to it. Knowing how much power you hold, you plan to use it to your advantage.

In the corner of your eye, Mystic Flour Cookie gives the impression she is brooding. Perhaps your small praise of her rival left her upset. It would not be fair to pick and choose when you are certain they both worked hard to reach you. Breaking out of a game sounds like no easy work.

Shifting her way, your hands find their way to hold her own, bringing her near your person. This gains her attention, and her eerie stare is placed onto you once again.

"Mystic Flour," you started off in a murmur, "I think you did what you had to do. In the end, you are worthy of the care I give you." You were close enough to whisper in her ear, pulling away to send her a quick smile. With her skin complexion, you could see the red tint on her face with ease. She is as adorable as her foe.

You spoke in a mighty tone, keeping the god title they placed you in. It would only be right. It was clear they were in need of some sort of tribute. They may be tall and powerful, but their need of affection remains. As their "god," you were more than happy to give what they sought from you.

Mystic Flour Cookie shut her eyes and returned a nod of her own appreciation. Her hands tightened around yours, yet you had to free one palm from hers to clasp another.

Dark Cacao Cookie appeared bothered at the statement you gave to her, but his complaints were unheard. It was as if his exasperation reduced to dust when you held his hand.

"Now, let's stop the sulking." Your request fell on deaf ears. Mystic Flour cannot tolerate that man, even for you. The same can be said for Dark Cacao. There is a limit to what he can do in favor of you.

"Hey, uh, when will you guys return to your world?" You eyed both of them, believing you could guess their answers.

"I plan to stay by your side," he replied. You feel uneasy when Mystic Flour Cookie does not send her response. With that given, you are sure they own an identical answer. Would it be possible to change their minds? From your memory, they were keen with resolution and set with apathy. It may take a bit to send them off, if it's even attainable.

For now, you will have to deal with the two of them. They are silent enough, but their animosity is constant. Will you be able to deal with the tension?

Shadow Milk Cookie & Pure Vanilla Cookie

It was early morning, and in your bed you lay, wide awake and eager for the upcoming day. There were no events to attend in person. Instead, there was an update coming to the game you adored: Cookie Run: Kingdom.

You wanted to prepare for the arriving cookie, so you made sure to gather all of the resources that were within your reach.

All of the codes available were input, and you claimed your rewards from such. Heading to your guild's alliance, you battled the highest difficulty you could manage. The rewards for a high tier were not ones to be passed up.

Finished with that, you moved onto the daily acts you could do. Collecting your train goods, sending off the balloon, and fulfilling wishes. Everything was almost complete, but you had the arena to finish up with. Tallying time was around the corner, so you wanted your tier to experience growth before then.

As always, you clicked on battle after battle, watching as your collection of trophies rose next to your tier. Down the path, you faced a few problems with Pure Vanilla Cookie dying off. He was insufficient compared to other teams, so you wanted to fix the problem.

Seeking out his beascuit stats, you aimed to modify a few things. Before you clicked on the icon, you received a piece of dialogue from the healer.

"Could you spare me a minute or two?"

Huh. Although that sounded sweet, you were focused more on the creation of the text. Somehow, you cannot dwell on the memory you first heard that. Was it added on a later date?

Having fixated on Pure Vanilla Cookie during a certain period, you feel as if you would recall his question, yet you fail to. It must be your blurry memory. It seems like a reasonable conclusion.

You wanted to view those words anew to remember them the next time around, just to ensure no unnecessary confusion. Even so, after you tapped the character a few times, you could not find the message you were in search of. It disappeared, like it never existed. Strange, but you chose to let the topic go.

While you believe you clicked on Pure Vanilla Cookie's beascuit, you ended up on another cookie's stats: Shadow Milk Cookie. It was simply an accident, so you undo your mistake and return to Pure Vanilla's screen. Over again, you click on his beascuit, but then the same mishap occurs. How are you ending up on Shadow Milk instead? Your game is awfully glitchy today.

Then, out of nowhere, you are on the screen of the blue jester. His cookie floats to the left, seemingly innocent of the reoccurring disturbances. Another inconvenience arrives, and you are stuck on his screen. You are unable to click on the next cookie. None of the arrows work, and the exit button has denied you.

You would go to assume you need to reset, but the fact that everything else is fine leaves you curious. You are allowed to click on his cookie, beascuit, toppings, and skill. All is well, except the exit source. At some point, you just started to spam it. That's when you hear your next problem.

"Hey! Didja forget? I'M the star of the show!"

That marks the second time you are presented with unseen dialogue, both of which feel like you are being spoken to directly. You do not have a known cause for this, but you hope a shutdown of the game could aid your tiny predicament.

But of course, luck was not on your side. You were not presented with the chance of closing the game. The display of Shadow Milk Cookie persisted. It would be weird to blame a fictional character, but you want to point fingers at him anyway.

Looking around, you check for a bad internet connection. Nope, nothing. When your eyes trail back to the screen, you do notice another fact. Shadow Milk Cookie is gone. He is not on your screen, even though you are on his page. What could possibly be wrong with your game? A cookie cannot just up and walk away.

Then, one feature worked. You could move onto the page of the next cookie in your team, like you had been wanting to earlier. Now, Pure Vanilla Cookie is displayed. You could have returned to a normal routine, yet you did not. The last few moments were not to be dismissed.

All of a sudden, there was audible giggling behind you, which echoed in your room. There was no one else but you that resided here, so you were obtaining genuine fear.

Glancing at your screen, there was yet another interference. Pure Vanilla vanished in the same manner Shadow Milk did. Have your cookies just decided to leave you? You always thought you cared for them well, but perhaps not.

You felt no need to stay within the bounds of your room for much longer, so you got up and headed to your door. You are not sure one would believe your situation if you were to tell them, but you hold no care for that. Getting a breath of fresh air was your main goal.

Every goal is accompanied by its obstacles, except you forgot about that part. You did not anticipate the arrival of your new guests, which left them with an opportunity to sneak up on you.

Stopped in your tracks, you stumbled upon your locked door. Not from the inside, but from the outside. Your urgency increased with each rattle of the knob until a voice was heard behind you.

"Awwwh, where are you going? The fun just started!" There poofed a blue man in front of your way of escape. While you wished to be courageous, you were startled by his appearance and shrieked, stumbling over your balance and falling. Fear not, as there was an awaiting grasp at your back.

"Shadow Milk Cookie, must you behave such a way? You are scaring them," spoke the soft voice near, their arms steady around your body. Hearing that name confirmed what you initially thought to be insane. The character became real, and he was right ahead of you with a grin across his face.

Peering upwards, you spotted the opposite of the jester. He turned your way with a kind smile adorning his face.

"My light..." Pure Vanilla Cookie tugged you closer, his voice warm like a candle. His embrace felt safe, yet you were still alarmed by the situation.

Shadow Milk rolled his eyes at the sappy man. The beast wanted nothing more than to have you near him, but he begrudgingly listened to Pure Vanilla. His goal was not to scare you, although it would be humorous to.

You slipped from the grip of the blonde man, who was saddened but allowed you as you wished. Your expression seemed tense, and he did not want to frighten you. Their attention was on you and you alone.

Thinking too hard gave you a headache. You do not think you could comprehend what occurred before you. "I don't—I can't understand what just happened." They both recognized your concern, but Pure Vanilla Cookie was the one who expressed his sympathy.

"There is nothing to fear—" The compassionate man was pushed to the side, overshadowed by his parallel.

"Whatever could you mean? The star of the show has graced you with his presence!" Shadow Milk Cookie was able to fly, which was an entirely different matter for you to gawk at. He hovered to your side and wrapped his arms around your neck, his touch smooth but cold. You felt his hair curl to your cheek, as if it possessed its own mind.

Your eyes stared into his. Seeing him in the game was fine, yet his features became more prominent when humanized. Observing the eyes in his hair truly left you bothered. "Why?" Your question was legitimate. What made them determined to visit you? They seem nice enough, so you are glad you did them no wrong.

"I needed to see you SO BAD! I mean, any good host would spend time with their number one fan." He deemed you his number one fan? Really? You are not sure if you felt flattery.

Your hand was pulled in the direction of Pure Vanilla Cookie, diverting your heed to him instead. Shadow Milk Cookie gave no approval to this, his expression salty and hateful. It was obvious he believed the attendance of Pure Vanilla was unnecessary.

"My friend, you have given me your faith throughout my journey. I could not have done it without you." His eyes unveiled the pretty case of heterochromia he has. The way he stared at you made you feel all nice. You were unknowing of exactly what you provided for him, but you received his gratitude all the same.

"Blah, blah, blah. They only did what was coded. I’m sure they had my best interest at heart," Shadow Milk Cookie excused, reclaiming your personal space as his own with the pull of his arms. You did not confirm nor deny the statement given by Shadow Milk. Slight irritation exuded from the usually calm man.

"...What do the two of you want from me?" Now that they reached you, you wondered what their plans were. If it is anything simple, you can see yourself offering.

"I only desired to see you, my light." Pure Vanilla Cookie was so upfront with the admiration he held for you, it was almost overwhelming to hear. He was nearly a stranger admitting this. "I wished to illuminate you with the same warmth you gave me."

Despite how strong he may come off, you appreciate his thanks. Your hand lowered to hold his. Your action surprised him, but your next movement shocked him.

You planted a kiss on the back of his hand, returning his faltered smile with your own. It was the least you could do for such heavy devotion. You found yourself respecting him as well. Pure Vanilla sent out shy chuckles, clearly pleased by what you conducted. Would it be selfish to ask for another? He ponders.

Watching from the sidelines, Shadow Milk Cookie is furious. How does that stupid, blind gnat receive a kiss from you? He believes your kindness needs to learn some limits, which should stop right at the edges of that foolish man.

You were aware of the jealousy oozing off of Shadow Milk Cookie. It was simple to catch on to his emotions after a few minutes. You would not want anything broken in your room due to a fight, so it would be best to share your affection. It was planned to be passed anyway.

Before you could reciprocate the same behavior for Shadow Milk Cookie, the man scooped you up in his arms effortlessly. Inspecting his face, you notice a scowl taking place on his lips. For someone who was so playful a second ago, he held such resentment within him.

"Not everything can be solved with friendship, Silly Vanilly," he mocked, sarcasm in his tone. You believe the only reason he fails to attack his rival is because of you. At any other rate, there would be holes in the wall.

To lessen his loathing, you were quick to bring his hand to your lips. You send him a kiss, similar to the way you gave Pure Vanilla. The piece of affection seemed to shut his temper up immediately, and he clung to you further.

"Ha ha! I knew ya loved me more!" That seemed to be baseless evidence, but you repaid his hug with a smile anyway. It went without effort to get acquainted with his silliness when in person. You can foresee the new fun he will bring with his antics.

Pure Vanilla Cookie could not say he was pleased with what he saw, but he went without speaking about it. You behaved the way you do because of your benevolence, and he wanted to respect that. He would live up to his nickname if he were to compete for your time.

Managing the two of them for a bit does not seem difficult. Surely, if they could come here, they could go back. They will return to the game at some point, but you can hang out with them right now. Hopefully, their competitive demeanors will be rid of. You can only anticipate how you will handle them until then.

#self aware #they escaped from your device #now you have two partners who want you for themselves #burning spice cookie x reader #burning spice cookie #mystic flour cookie x reader #mystic flour cookie #shadow milk cookie x reader #shadow milk cookie #gn reader #crk #cookie run kingdom

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veichua · 1 month ago

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۫ ꣑ৎ . paige trying to find your g-spot, you had to guide her because she's so bad at it.

fingering. frustrated reader. power play. cocky paige. chaotic.

“is that it? is that the spot?” she asks leaning closer, her breath hot on your neck, clearly thinking she’s nailed it.

you burst out laughing, unable to help it, your head falling back against the pillow. “babe—oh my god—no, that was me clowning you.” you manage voice breaking as her fingers keep moving, still missing by a mile.

“you’re, like, poking my appendix or something.” your pussy’s wet, clenching around her, and it feels good, but the g-spot? not even in the same zip code.

“appendix? damn, you’re ruthless,” she says grinning, a flush creeping up her neck, a hint of embarrassment under her swagger.

she shifts trying a new angle, her fingers going too deep now, and you wince, a soft “ngh-” escaping before you can stop it.

“aight, aight, was that good? talk to me,” she says, all eager, her eyes scanning your face like it’s a highlight reel.

“paige—fuck—too deep, ease up,” you say half-moaning, half-laughing, grabbing her wrist to guide her, but she’s too focused, her tongue poking out.

“you’re acting like this is a free-throw contest,” you tease, voice breathy, and she chuckles, her fingers slowing but still off-target.

“nah, i’m shooting threes, baby,” she shoots back, leaning down to kiss your jaw, her lips soft and teasing. “c’mon, gimme a hint—your face ain’t helping.”

she curls her fingers again too soft now, barely grazing anything, and you groan, more out of frustration than pleasure, your hips bucking up to chase the feeling.

“my face ain’t helping ‘cause you’re lost, p.” you say, voice playful edged with need, your hand sliding into her hair tugging lightly to get her attention.

“it’s—mmph—higher, curl harder, like… beckon someone.” you’re trying to coach her, but her fingers slip, brushing your clit instead, and you jolt, a sharp “fuck-” spilling out, your thighs trembling.

“beckon? Like, ‘come here’?” she says mimicking a finger-wave with her free hand, and you laugh so hard your belly hurt, even as your pussy’s throbbing, desperate for her to get it right.

“aight, i got you,” she says, doubling down, her fingers curling harder but still missing, hitting some random spot that’s more ticklish than hot.

you yelp, squirming, and she pauses, eyes wide. “was that bad? you good?”

“paige—oh my god—” you say, laughing so much there’s tears in your eyes, and she groans, dropping her forehead to your shoulder, her own laugh bubbling up, all raspy and real.

“you’re so bad at this,” you tease, voice soft, and she pulls back, pouting, her fingers still inside you, warm and steady.

“bad? me? nah, im just warming you up,” she says trying to recover, but her grin’s sheepish, and you can tell she’s a little flustered.

she tries again, slower, watching your face like a hawk, and finally brushes something close, a faint spark that makes your breath hitch, your eyes fluttering.

“there? that it?” she asks, voice all hopeful, and you nod, biting your lip, guiding her wrist a little. “yeah—ngh—right there, harder..”

you murmur, voice shaky, and she focuses, curling her fingers with more purpose, hitting that spot for real now.

your back arches, a real moan spilling out, and her eyes light up, all proud. “fuck, yes, paige—keep going,” you gasp, and she does, her rhythm shaky but earnest, her free hand stroking your thigh, whispering,

“got you, baby, i’m learning.” it’s not perfect, but it’s paige—her effort, her goofy determination, the way she’s watching you like you’re her whole world—and it’s enough to push you close, your pussy fluttering, your moans louder now.

“you’re so—mmph—fucking cute.” you tease, voice breaking, and she laughs, kissing you sloppy, her fingers still working, finally getting the hang of it.

#꣑ৎ p. bueckers ── written by kai #paige #paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #paige x reader #paige buckets #paige bueckers smut #paige smut #paige bueckers imagine #paige bueckers fic #wnba

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crabussy · 26 days ago

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handy checklist of why you shouldn't watch the new lilo and stitch movie (even hatewatching it. don't do that. do something fun instead)

completely destroys the entire moral of the movie by making nani leave lilo alone at the end. holy shit.

most if not all allusions to colonisation being harmful to hawai'i is gone or changed to be more "palatable"

beloved character got turned into a shallow villain who doesn't even get redeemed all because they COULDN'T AFFORD TO ANIMATE THE ORIGINAL VILLAIN???????

the gay-coded couple get completely destroyed (one of them turns out to be evil and irredeemable. and we don't get the drag scene anymore. they killed their queerness entirely)

lilo's autistic traits are extremely toned down to make her more "likeable"

the pacing is abysmal and they've removed a lot of important plot points (stitch's ugly duckling scenes for example)

a lot of characters have been completely rewritten. agent bubbles is no longer a deep and interesting multifaceted character. he's now just kind of mean and unfunny for no reason???

stitch's model isn't even faithful to the original movie. THEY PUGGED HIM!!!!!!!!

all the beautiful lighting and compositions from the original movie got put in a WOODCHIPPER. boy I sure do love bright white lighting instead of gorgeous pink dusky hues for the surfing scene

the actor for nani isn't native hawaiian. she's white and filipino and also WAY paler than nani in the original movie. she seems lovely but I think maybe for the movie about native hawaiian oppression they could have cast a hawaiian actor

stitch's character is flanderised and toned down too. he STARTS OFF loveable and less violent and antagonistic. instead of how he was in the original movie- an aggressive creature that BECOMES loving and caring as the movie progresses. his entire arc gets squashed flat so that he can be cute and cuddly for marketing

lilo's whole thing about photographing tourists as a coping mechanism for feeling like a novelty attraction to tourists is just Gone. they make the guy she takes a photo of hawaiian for no reason when he was originally a white tourist

disney made it

disney has a resort on hawai'i that spans 21 acres of hawaiian land with close to 400 rooms that costs over 600USD a night for the cheapest room. this movie is a one hour and forty eight minute advertisement for a resort that contributes to hawai'i's struggles with over-tourism.

#lilo and stitch 2025 #not tagging spoilers sorry. I'm in a 'ruin this thing for the people who were planning on watching it regardless' kind of mood. evil!#DO NOT GIVE YOUR FUCKING MMONEY. TO THIS MEGACORPORATION. ARE YOU CRAAAZY

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xo100 · 9 months ago

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Coming home - LN4

*:･ﾟ Summary/request: by anon; ‘y/n drunk in a club and calling lando to pick her up 🙈 him being patient and gentle 🫶🏼 thank you!!!’

*:･ﾟ Word count: 2214

୨ৎ

It had been a quiet evening for Lando Norris. The kind of evening he loved, where the house was filled with the gentle hum of the TV, and the warmth of home comforted him after a long day. He’d spent most of his time winding down, his thoughts often drifting to his girlfriend, who had texted him earlier in the day, saying she’d be out with friends tonight.

“You have fun,” he had told her with a smile before she left, his hands gently resting on her hips as he gave her a kiss goodbye.

She never went out too often—mostly a homebody unlike him—so he had encouraged her to enjoy herself, to have a night of fun and laughter, with drinks if she felt like it. He knew she didn’t really drink much, maybe a cocktail here or there, but nothing excessive. She had always been mindful, careful, but tonight seemed a little different.

It was around midnight when Lando's phone buzzed.

At first, he didn’t think much of it. He figured it would be one of those casual updates, maybe a quick check-in to let him know she was alright. But when he glanced at the screen, the sight of her name at the top of the message thread made him pause, and the message itself made him frown slightly in confusion.

“I’msogldmkgoig,” the text read. He blinked, squinting at the screen.

Lando tilted his head, trying to decipher the meaning of the garbled message. Was she typing in some kind of code? Then it hit him—a small smile tugged at his lips. She was drunk. Really drunk.

Shaking his head with a soft chuckle, he swiped open his phone, his thumbs moving quickly over the screen.

“Hey, you okay? Need me to pick you up?”

It took a minute or two for a response to come in, and when it did, it was no clearer than the first.

“nnoOOO immmmperf!!! ssssgood igot this!!! 😊😊😊”

Lando laughed under his breath, a fond smile settling on his face. He could just imagine her sitting at a table with her friends, holding her phone up way too close to her face, squinting at the keyboard as she tried to string a sentence together. She always got flustered when her texts came out wrong, even more so when she had a bit too much to drink.

He tried calling her, but it rang for a moment before she declined it. Another message popped up.

“ssorryyyyy busyy having fun witt gurls!! 🎉🍹”

Lando raised an eyebrow. He knew her friends, and he had no doubt they were looking after her, but it was clear she was teetering on the edge of tipsy and downright hammered.

A part of him wanted to laugh at the situation, but the protective part of him nudged forward. He’d rather her be home and safe than out and struggling to figure out how to text properly.

After sending her another message asking if she needed help, he waited, watching the dots of her typing bubble appear and disappear before another string of incomprehensible words filled the chat.

Then, finally, she called him.

Her name flashed across the screen, and Lando answered quickly.

“Hiiiii,” she sang into the phone, her voice bright but undeniably slurred.

“Hey, love,” Lando said softly, leaning back on the couch, the smile in his voice impossible to miss. “You doing okay over there?”

There was a brief pause on the other end, a bit of shuffling and background noise as her friends laughed and chatted around her. “Mmmm, I think soooo,” she said, dragging out the words. “But Landoooo, guess what?”

“What?” Lando humored her, knowing she probably had no idea where this conversation was going.

“I miss youuuu,” she said with a giggle, her voice softening with an endearing whine. “Like, really, really miss you.”

Lando’s heart did a little flip, warmth spreading in his chest. “I miss you too,” he replied, his voice dropping into that gentle, affectionate tone he used whenever they were being sweet with each other. “How about I come pick you up, hmm? I think it’s time to get you home.”

There was another pause, and he could hear the muffled sound of her friends in the background again, likely checking in on her. Then she whispered into the phone, as if telling him the world’s biggest secret, “Okay… but don’t tell anyone… I’m a little drunk.”

Lando chuckled, shaking his head fondly. “You don’t say.”

“But I’m not… that drunk,” she continued, her words tumbling over each other. “Just… a little.”

“Sure, babe,” Lando said playfully, standing up from the couch and grabbing his keys. “I’ll be there in a bit, alright? Stay with your friends. I’m on my way.”

“‘Kayyy,” she sighed, clearly relieved. “Lando?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re the best,” she whispered, her voice filled with a drunken sincerity that made Lando’s chest tighten in the best way.

He grinned, shaking his head again as he headed out the door. “You’re not too bad yourself, love.”

The drive to the bar wasn’t long. Lando had been there with her and her friends before, and he knew the route by heart. As he pulled up, his eyes immediately scanned the front of the building, and sure enough, he spotted her standing with a few of her friends near the curb, her posture relaxed but a little wobbly. She was laughing at something one of them had said, her phone clutched in one hand, her jacket loosely draped over her shoulders.

Lando parked and stepped out of the car, his eyes softening as they landed on her. She looked up and saw him, her face lighting up in a way that made his heart skip. She immediately broke into a wide, tipsy grin, her eyes sparkling as she waved enthusiastically.

“Landooo!” she called, drawing out his name in that adorable, exaggerated way she always did when she was happy to see him.

He chuckled, making his way over to her, his hands slipping into his pockets as he approached. “Hey, you,” he greeted, his voice warm and teasing.

She stumbled slightly as she moved toward him, but he was quick to catch her, his hands gently wrapping around her waist to steady her. “Careful, love,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head.

Her arms looped around his neck as she looked up at him, her eyes a little glassy but full of affection. “You came,” she said, her voice softer now, as if the reality of him being there had just hit her.

“Of course I did,” he replied, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. “I wasn’t gonna leave you here drunk and texting me gibberish all night.”

She giggled, her cheeks flushing. “I wasn’t texting gibberish!”

Lando raised an eyebrow, pulling out his phone and holding up her messages for her to see. “You sure about that?”

She squinted at the screen, her face scrunching up in concentration before she groaned, burying her face in his chest. “Okay, maybe a little gibberish,” she mumbled.

He laughed softly, wrapping his arms around her a little tighter. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

She let out a dramatic sigh, looking up at him with wide, playful eyes. “But I was having funnn,” she whined, though the smile tugging at her lips told him she was more than happy to go with him.

“I’m sure you were,” Lando said with a smirk. “But you’ll have more fun when you’re not regretting all those drinks tomorrow.”

She pouted up at him for a moment before her expression softened, her hand coming up to gently cup his cheek. “You’re so good to me,” she whispered, her voice carrying that drunken tenderness again.

Lando’s heart melted at her words, and he leaned down to kiss her softly, his lips brushing against hers with all the love and patience in the world. “Only because you’re worth it,” he murmured against her lips before pulling back slightly. “Come on, let’s get you in the car.”

The drive home was quiet, her head resting against the window as the streetlights flickered by. Every now and then, she’d glance over at him, her eyes soft and full of affection. He’d catch her staring and smile, reaching over to squeeze her hand gently, his thumb brushing over her knuckles in soothing circles.

“You’re really cute, you know that?” she said suddenly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Lando laughed softly. “Am I?”

“Mhm,” she hummed, her eyes drifting shut as she leaned back into the seat. “Really, really cute.”

He shook his head, the fondness in his chest swelling as he stole a glance at her. “You’re something else.”

By the time they got home, she was half-asleep, her body heavy with the exhaustion that always seemed to follow a night of drinking. Lando parked the car and got out, walking over to her side and opening the door. She stirred slightly, her eyes blinking open as he reached out a hand to help her up.

“You okay to walk?” he asked gently.

She nodded, though her movements were slow and sleepy. He wrapped an arm around her waist, guiding her out of the car as she leaned into him for support. Her head rested against his shoulder, and a small, content sigh escaped her lips as they made their way toward the house.

Lando unlocked the door and led her inside, his grip gentle but firm. She stumbled a little on her way through the doorway, giggling at her own clumsiness.

“You’re like my knight in shining armor,” she slurred playfully, looking up at him with a soft smile as they stood in the entryway. “Except you drive a McLaren instead of a horse.”

Lando chuckled, rolling his eyes in amusement. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

She nodded, her head resting back on his shoulder as they made their way down the hallway to their bedroom. “It’s totally a compliment,” she mumbled, her voice getting quieter with each word. “You’re perfect.”

They reached the bed, and Lando helped her sit down, carefully slipping off her shoes. “Alright, love,” he said softly, “let's get you into something more comfortable.”

She whined in protest, her arms going limp as she dramatically fell back onto the bed, her legs still dangling off the edge. “But I’m already sooo comfy,” she groaned.

Lando smirked, shaking his head. “You’re ridiculous,” he muttered affectionately as he knelt down to take her shoes off. Then he stood, heading to the closet to grab one of his oversized hoodies—one she always liked to wear—and brought it back to her.

With a bit of gentle coaxing, he helped her change out of her clothes, into the soft hoodie that smelled faintly of him. She sighed in contentment, snuggling into the fabric as soon as it was on.

“There you go,” he whispered, brushing her hair back from her face. “All cozy.”

She smiled sleepily at him, her eyes half-lidded as she gazed up at him. “Lando?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

The words came out soft and vulnerable, almost like a confession. Even though she was drunk, there was a deep sincerity in her voice that made his heart ache in the best way. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to her forehead before resting his own forehead against hers.

“I love you too” he murmured, his voice filled with all the affection he’d been holding onto since the moment she had called him. “So much.”

She smiled, her eyes fluttering closed as she snuggled deeper into the blankets. “You’re the best boyfriend ever,” she mumbled, her words slurring together as sleep started to claim her.

Lando stayed there for a moment, just watching her, his heart swelling with warmth. He could see the way her breathing slowed, her body relaxing completely as she drifted off to sleep. Even in her drunken state, she was still the girl he adored—the one who made him laugh, who always knew how to make him smile, and who filled his life with more joy than he ever thought possible.

He stood up slowly, making sure she was tucked in before he changed into his own clothes for the night. Sliding into bed next to her, he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close. She instinctively moved toward him, her body curling into his as she sighed in contentment.

Lando pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head, his fingers gently brushing through her hair as he whispered, “Goodnight, love.”

And as she slept peacefully in his arms, he couldn’t help but smile, his heart full. Because nights like this—where he could be there for her, take care of her, and remind her just how much he loved her—were the ones that made everything worth it.

She might have been a little too drunk tonight, but to Lando, she was perfect in every way. And as they lay there, tangled together in the quiet comfort of their home, he knew he wouldn’t trade a single moment of it for the world.

୨ৎ

*:･ﾟ Notes; Hey anon! I hope you enjoyed it and that this was what you had in mind! If not let me know so I can change things! Enjoy it, love! I’m also currently working on part 3 of baking cookies, coming online soon!

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itneverendshere · 2 months ago

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LOVED YOU AT YOUR WORST - r.c series - FIFTEEN

pairings: ex!sweethearts; rafe x thornton!reader; rafe x sofia. chapter warnings: angst; mentions of abortion, grief & health issues;

Rafe was a hundred percent sure the lack of oxygen made him delirious.

His palms were still clammy from the panic attack earlier—vision spotty, heart galloping so hard it scared even him. Sarah had stared at him like he was a mangled dog limping on the freeway and for once, she hadn’t said anything smart or mean, just driven him home without a word. No fight with her that night, he hadn’t screamed at her, hadn’t said something he’d regret—he kept his shit together for once. He said thank you, but his sister didn’t need it when she’d grown up watching him break down and build back up a thousand times, never quite whole.

Therapy hadn’t miracled him into some new person or whatever. He wasn’t going to start quoting mantras and hugging strangers in the street. He was trying, alright? Not to ruin everything he touched, not to say shit that hurt people only because he was hurting. It wasn’t gonna happen overnight—he knew that, it might not even occur in a year. But cleaning the water with you, of all people, that was something, a start and he had to start somewhere, or he’d drown.

That’s why he was parked outside your place, headlights off, keys still in the ignition, trying to talk himself out of going in. His fingers hovered over his screen guessing you’d follow up your text with a quick “nvm” or “that was a mistake.” But nothing came, just that green bubble, staring back at him, fucking terryfing.

This had to be some kind of trap, you hadn’t said two nice things to him in the past four months, except tonight, but his brain was foggy.

Rafe rubbed his face, still buzzing with adrenaline, a headache forming low behind his eyes, he should just go home, stop chasing something that always seemed to blow up in his face. But his hand was already on the door handle, legs half-numb as he stepped out into the night air. His heart started doing that thing again—erratic—and he wondered if he was about to pass out on your front steps.

That’d be poetic.

He was idling outside your gate, the one that used to open the second his Range Rover pulled up, he knew the code, now he had to buzz, like a stranger.

Rafe hated that.

He pressed the button, swallowing hard, already regretting it. He half-expected silence, or your voice telling him to go to hell. Instead, there was a click, then the slow swing of iron, groaning open like it, too, couldn’t believe you’d let him in. By the time he reached your front door, his hands were damp again, chest aching with everything he wasn’t saying.

Then—door swings open.

You didn’t make him knock, there you were barefoot, dressed in some enormous hoodie he hadn’t seen in months. Hair twisted up, eyes dark from either crying or just not sleeping. You weren’t supposed to look like that.

“Hi.”

“Hi?” he echoed, like a fucking idiot. It came out raspy, his throat wasn’t working right, still scratched up from earlier. His lungs hadn’t fully clocked back in from that panic attack and now this. “…You let me in.”

“You rang the gate.”

You seemed tired, not just physically, and he did that thing again, almost stopped breathing because air wasn’t a thing he deserved around you.

You stepped aside, sighing. “Come in. Before I change my mind.”

He did, swallowed hard, and crossed that threshold like he was sixteen again, sneaking in past curfew, scared your dad would catch him, but now it was just the two of you. You sat curled into the corner of the couch across from him, arms wrapped around your knees while Rafe sat stiff on the edge of the opposite one, elbows on his thighs, hands clasped like he was praying.

(He was.)

He dragged a hand down his face, his lungs were feeling funny again, but it wasn’t a panic attack this time, it was you, sitting right there, after all this time. He wanted to say something, but everything in his brain came out wrong before it even hit his mouth.

So he sat and you stared. This is probably where she slaps me, or tells me to get the fuck out. Or worse, says nothing, he thought.

He wanted to tell you that he hadn’t slept right in weeks, sometimes he thought he saw you out of the corner of his eye, and his body would react like you were real—as if he could still fix it. He wanted to admit he’d been spiraling, white-knuckling his days just to get through without texting you, begging or showing up like this.

"You're not gonna say anything?"

You looked like you’d bolt if he breathed wrong.

Rafe blinked, looking away. "I don’t know where to start."

That made your mouth drop, not quite a frown but close, he tracked it, all the little changes in your expression like they were landmarks in a city he used to live in. He didn’t know if that map still existed for him anymore.

“Start somewhere.”

Where the fuck was “somewhere”? Before the fight? Before he said all that shit he didn’t mean because it was easier to make you hate him than admit he couldn’t live without you?

“I didn’t think I’d be let in.”

“I didn’t think you’d show up.”

Everything felt surreal, as if he’d left his body behind in the car and now he was just watching this shit play out on a TV screen. You across from him, this house, this conversation—civilized, if you could even call it that. He didn’t know how to be calm around you, maybe this was hell, he died somewhere between the panic attack and your driveway and this was just the afterlife: stuck in a loop with the one person he couldn’t stop loving but always hurt.

“I don’t know how to talk to you anymore,” He confessed, his leg bouncing, nervous energy bleeding out of him. None of you were yelling, crying, rolling your eyes like usual, that scared him.

He kept seeing it in his head, how things used to be—even after a screaming match, you’d curl into him like nothing ever broke. you'd text him "come over" at 2 a.m. and he’d be there in ten, because it was understood. It was always understood.

Even when the world felt like it was falling apart, when his dad was on his ass, when he was fucking up every other part of his life—you were the one place he didn’t have to explain himself. This didn’t feel like the two of you, more like strangers in borrowed skin.

Rafe hated that he kept looking for you—the old you, who would tilt her head and laugh through her nose and throw a pillow at him when he said something stupid. The girl who could read him in a second and didn’t need him to find the right words. You didn’t look like her anymore, that was a good thing.

What the fuck happened to us.

He was what happened, if he hadn’t shut down, pushed back, said the worst thing at the worst time—he dropped his gaze to the floor, hands flexing again against his thighs. There was so much he wanted to say, but none of it would change what he’d already done.

You still weren’t uttering a single word, and he was starting to feel like he couldn’t sit here another second without doing something—saying something, but then, as if you'd taken a peek inside his excuse of a brain—

“I think we should get our excuses out of the way.”

He looked up.

Your hands were fidgeting—thumb picking at your sleeve, eyes not quite on him. God, he remembered those hands, you used to touch his face like he was something soft, you hadn’t touched him at all in months.

“I mean it. No more bullshit.”

“What are you talking about?”

You met his eyes.

“I mean, I’ve got my own shit to say,” you said. “So if you’ve got something to say, I want to hear it now.”

He suddenly felt sick, his ears were ringing again, the way they had earlier when Sarah pulled the car over and told him to “breathe, Rafe, it’s anxiety, not a heart attack”.

“…I don’t know how to say it right,” he muttered almost swallowed by the quiet. “Every time I try, it comes out fucked.”

“Give it a try.”

You didn’t say anything else, the you go first was visible in your eyes.

That was the least he could give you, right? He’d been taking and taking, his soul already hurt from just the thought. But you were offering him honesty, one chance, without the screaming, the throwing things.

Rafe cleared his throat, eyes glassy and wild and stupidly, desperately hopeful. Alright, somewhere. Fuck it.

“I regretted it the second you left.” It it hurt to say it, “I didn’t say it then. I was too—” He laughed once, humorless. “—too proud. Too fucked up, drunk.”

He rubbed his palms against his jeans, focusing on everything he hadn’t said properly for months. It haunted him, how your face had crumpled but you still didn’t cry in front of him—too proud or too hurt or both. The sound of the door slamming after you was louder in his head than the gunshots from his worst nights.

“The shit you said that night… messed me up. I know I messed you up too, but—” He stopped, jaw flexing. “I didn’t think it would come from you.”

That was the part no one ever understood.

He could take the hits, the rumours, Ward yelling in his face, his so-called friends talking behind his back. Even Sarah calling him an asshole—he could take all of that. But you? He’d spent so long thinking you saw him, even when he didn’t deserve it, especially then.

When you threw his pain back at him that night, when you looked at him like he was just another spoiled rich boy crying over his daddy—fuck, he’d felt something in him break in half.

“I thought you’d get it,” he admitted, swallowing hard. “That’s the part I couldn’t stop thinking about. You—of all people. You lost your whole family. You know what that’s like. You were there when my mom died. We were kids, but you were the only one who talked to me about it. I thought—” He shook his head. “I thought it would be like that again. That when my dad—when he was gone… I thought if anyone would understand what that felt like, it’d be you.” His mouth twisted. “But you didn’t.”

He blinked, and his vision went fuzzy again—not from panic this time, just pain, remembering too vividly.

“I deserved it, I really did. But that night?” he said, “I couldn’t forgive you. You weren’t wrong—" He bit his cheek, hard, until the taste of blood hit his tongue. “—but it was you. And I didn’t want to stop loving you. That’s why I didn’t chase you, just drank, a lot, figured I’d black out enough nights and eventually stop thinkin' about it.”

Another dry laugh.

“Didn’t work, if that wasn’t obvious.” He leaned forward again, elbows on his knees, “I kept waiting for you to come back, thinking any day now, you’d text me. Say you were sorry too. But you didn’t and I didn’t know how to fix somethin' you were the one who broke last.”

His pride had cost him everything, but it was never stronger than his hurt. And even now, with your hand resting on your stomach and his gut screaming, he was still reaching for the version of you who used to understand him without either of you saying a word.

Rafe swore that was it—you were gonna walk out, leave him sitting there like some pathetic, washed-up version of the guy you used to love.

“Is that why you started seeing Sofia?”

"I didn’t…" He paused, shaking his head, dragging a hand down his face. “I didn’t see her like that.”

You didn’t say anything, just nodded, slow and silent: go on.

“She was the bartender at the club. I’d see her when I went in—most of the time I was drunk off my ass anyway. Half the time I didn’t even remember what I said to her. I didn’t know her name for a while.” He hated himself for saying it out loud. “She was just there.”

His leg started bouncing again, and he didn’t even notice.

“She asked if I was okay once. That’s all it took, one person acting like they gave a shit. And I was pissed at you, I was pissed at everything, but mostly I was pissed at myself for not being okay and for needing you anyway.”

His hands came up, gesturing vaguely between you.

“I kept thinking—you left me. You left. When I needed you the most, and I knew I’d done so much wrong, pushed you so far that you didn’t have anything left to give me, but… I still thought you'd understand. I thought if anyone was gonna sit with me in grief, it’d be you. But you didn’t, you treated me like I was a fucking monster, it didn’t matter that I’d just buried my dad. All I was, was Ward’s son, and not just some kid trying to make sense of losing the only parent he had left.”

You looked like you wanted to interrupt. You didn’t.

“And I know he was a bad man. I know that, ’m not fucking delusional,” Rafe snapped, voice rising for a second, frustrated with himself, before softening again. “But he was still my dad. The guy who used to drive me out on the boat at sunrise and teach me how to cast without tangling the line. He was still the man who told me I could be something. Even when he lied through his teeth—he still said it.”

He dropped his eyes to floor again, voice going nearly hoarse.

“And I missed him. I still do, even when I hate him, I miss him. You made me feel like that was something to be ashamed of.” When he spoke again, it was almost a whisper. “That’s when it clicked. You were gone, you weren’t coming back. And I wanted to hurt you like you hurt me. I didn’t even realize you were already hurting, mourning me while I was still sittin' right fuckin' next to you.”

His eyes lifted slowly to meet yours again.

“That’s why I didn’t stop her,” he said, quietly, defeated. “When she kissed me the first time… I didn’t stop her. Because I wanted you to know what it felt like, to feel what I’d been feeling every second since the door slammed behind you. I wanted it to hurt when you found out.”

Rafe saw your jaw twitch, you were trying not to cry or scream or both while he admitted what you’d already known in the deepest part of your chest. He hated that you were sitting so far away, arms wrapped around yourself when all he wanted was to cross the space and warm you up with everything he hadn’t known how to say until now.

He hated that he’d ever wanted to hurt you.

“You didn’t have to make it worse.”

His head dropped, ashamed, nodding. He knew, fuck, did he know.

“You could’ve called. Texted. Showed up like this—months ago.”

“I didn’t know how.”

“You did. You just didn’t want to.”

You were right, he had let pride drag him deeper into the hole, let the silence rot what was left between you because at least in the silence, he didn’t have to see your eyes look at him like that.

That night—shit, that night—he’d said things he didn’t even remember, the kind of bullshit you don’t come back from. It scared him sometimes, what he’d become. He’d wanted to win the fight more than he wanted to keep you, twisting his grief into something cruel the following weeks, just to make you bleed a little too.

Rafe swallowed hard, voice low now, ashamed. He rubbed the back of his neck.

“I didn’t even like her,” he admitted, a little more broken. “Not like that. She was just… there, a good friend. She wasn’t you, didn’t ask questions, didn’t expect anything from me. And I hated myself more every time I saw her because I knew what I was doing. I was punishing you, for something I couldn’t admit was my fault too. I didn’t think there was anything left to fight for.”

His voice cracked for real this time.

“That’s the difference between us,” You muttered. “You give up when it’s hard. You made it look easy.”

“I needed you to hate me enough to stop trying.”

You let out the breath you’d been carefully holding.

“Congrats. It worked.”

“I didn’t want it to. I was a mess. Still am. I never stopped—”

“I thought I was going to die when I saw you together, Rafe.”

Your eyes weren’t angry or accusing, just….sad.

“I—I saw you in the bathroom,” you continued, “Thought I was going to throw up right there in the hallway.”

Rafe’s heart stopped.

“The door was open just a crack, enough to see her.” You swallowed hard, and he could see how your hands were shaking now. “She had her arms around your neck. You were smiling, laughing even. You kissed her neck, she was touching. You fucking let her.”

His soul caved in.

“I stood there for maybe ten seconds. Long enough to see you tie the strings of her bikini behind her back like you’d done it a hundred times already.” You let out a little laugh, but it sounded so wrong. “It used to take you five tries to tie mine without getting flustered.”

He felt sick to his stomach.

You shook your head slowly, eyes closing.

“It felt like someone had just reached into my chest and ripped my heart out. I couldn’t breathe, my face went cold, and all I kept thinking was you didn’t even flinch.”

Rafe opened his mouth, but nothing came out. His heart was fucking breaking.

You tilted your head, blinking up at the ceiling, trying to keep it together. “I slept on the bathroom floor that night, in your hoodie, because it smelled like you. Didn’t eat for two days.”

A pause.

“And I still would’ve taken you back if you’d just shown up. Said you were sorry.”

Rafe couldn’t take it anymore. “I was sorry,” he said, hoarse. “Every second. I swear to God, I just didn’t think I—”

“—deserved it?” you finished for him, not unkindly. “You didn’t.”

He flinched.

“But I would’ve still tried,” you whispered. “Because I loved you that much.”

No vindication or closure. Rafe pressed his fingers to his temples, exhaling hard, his whole body burning with guilt.

“I didn’t like her,” he repeated, knowing it couldn’t erase what he’d done.

"You liked her enough to keep her around."

“She was there. That’s all it was, she wasn’t you. I couldn’t even look at her without thinkin' about you.”

You shook your head, eyes gleaming. “Then why didn’t you leave?”

He looked at you, words choking in his throat. “Because I was scared you’d already moved on. You were gone for two months, I felt like a stranger."

You let out a bitter breath, “You were a stranger. The moment you let her touch you like that… you stopped being mine.”

The silence that followed was suffocating, a punishment, he deserved worse.

“I didn’t know how to come back from it,” he said, barely above a whisper.

“You don’t come back from something like that."

He nodded, devastated. “I never stopped loving you, that never changed.”

You looked at him for a long time, it almost hurt worse than all the yelling in the world — because you weren’t angry anymore. You nodded once, slowly. “I know. But that doesn’t make it hurt less.”

Your eyes were still fixed on him, lips parted like you wanted to say something else but weren’t sure where to start.

“I shouldn’t have said what I said that night.”

That pulled his eyes back to yours.

You nodded to yourself, needing to work up to it.

“I was angry. I was—I was tired.” You sat back, and pulled your knees tighter into your chest. “From watching you ruin yourself over and over again for someone who didn’t give a single fuck. You were breaking your own heart every day, and I couldn’t do anything but watch.”

He didn’t say anything, just watched you like he was trying to breathe you in all over again.

“I knew he was your dad, what that meant. But watching you keep chasing something you were never gonna get from him—his love, his pride, a real apology—it made me so fucking angry, it was killing you and I couldn’t save you from it. Every time I tried, we fought, when I tried to be patient, you snapped. Even when the good moments were good, they started to feel like pit stops before the next fight."

You bit your lip, eyes glossy.

“So yeah, I said shit I shouldn’t have said. I threw your grief back in your face, it wasn’t right. It was fucked up. And I hate that I did it, because I do get it—I do know what that kind of loss feels like and I still made it about me in the moment. That’s not fair, you didn’t deserve that, especially not from me. I'm sorry."

You weren’t done.

“But you’re not the only one hurting” you continued, “You weren’t the only one grieving. I lost you, little by little, every time you pushed me out and let Ward pull you in. It felt like I was loving someone who didn’t want to be loved anymore and I broke, too.”

Rafe blinked fast, chest rising with shallow breaths while you were still picking at your sleeve, eyes down.

“And you were right, back then. When we were younger, you were always the one to fix it. Every time we’d break up, even if it was just for a week or two, you came crawling back. Even when I was the one who started the fight, even if I flirted with someone else afterward to piss you off.” Your voice wobbled, but you didn’t stop. “You were always the one who showed up.”

His head dropped for a second, eyes squeezed shut.

“I told myself that made me better than you somehow,” you murmured. “I had the upper hand because I could make you come back, but that was just me being a bitch, you weren’t the only one who needed to grow up. You weren’t coming back and I didn’t want you to.”

That was the part no one ever understood.

Not the Cut High Society who asked what kind of psycho gave up a Cameron. Or your old friends from college who wondered why you weren’t mourning louder. None of them got it, you didn’t stop loving Rafe, you’d just spent so long dragging his broken pieces out of the fire that eventually, you forgot you were burning too.

You both looked at each other, older than you used to be, still cracked in all the same places, bleeding a little. “I had to be better on my own and I have been.”

You didn’t say it with pride, but you had learned how to exist without him, even when it broke you. Rafe’s eyes flicked to your stomach.

You rubbed your hand over it, “I didn’t tell you before because I wasn’t keeping it.”

You weren’t keeping it.

He couldn’t blame you, not when he’d made it feel that way. His gaze dropped to your hand resting gently over the swell that wasn’t there yet, still small, but he saw it now. He wasn’t supposed to know. that’s what killed him most still, you hadn’t even told him because he’d already proven he wasn’t worth telling.

“You weren’t gonna keep it,” he repeated, like saying it might help it sink in.

You gazed up at him again, eyes wet, but no tears spilling. “No.”

“Because of me?”

You didn’t need to answer. He already knew.

His heart was splitting open, right there on the floor between you both, and he still couldn’t move or close the gap. Couldn’t hold you the way he wanted to because you’d already had to learn how to live without him.

“It wasn’t fair,” you tried not to twist the knife even as you twisted it. “To bring a baby into that… into what we were.”

Rafe nodded once, a jagged little motion because it hurt to agree, so fucking bad. You weren’t wrong, but that didn’t make it easier.

“I would’ve been better,” he sounded completely desperate now, his voice breaking. “If I’d known, if I’d—fuck, if you’d just told me, I swear to God, I would’ve been—”

“You don’t get to promise that now,” you said, but there was no venom in it, only resignation. “That’s why I was so upset when Topper found out, called the clinic.”

“Have you talked to Topper?” Rafe asked, he already knew the answer but needed to hear it from you.

You shook your head. “Not yet. I will.”

He nodded once, “He meant well.”

“I know,” you said quietly. “He’s not a bad person. Just… socially dumb.”

That almost made Rafe huff out a laugh, but it didn’t quite land.

“I think he was trying to protect you.”

“And I didn’t need protecting,” you snapped, “I needed someone who wasn’t gonna treat me like a bomb about to go off.”

That shut him up, because it was true. You’d needed stability, and all they ever gave you was a headache. He knew better than to push you when it came to family matters, so he changed the subject again.

“You didn’t go through with the abortion."

“I was past the legal limit in North Carolina. The place he called was in New Mexico.”

“New Mexico?”

“I had to fly there.”

“But you didn’t.”

“There were… complications.” You didn’t elaborate, your voice was already trembling, “They said it might mean I can’t… that I might not be able to…It wasn’t my choice anymore.”

Your voice died, you didn’t say it, but Rafe heard it.

He felt like he’d been shot.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice pitched up, breath hitching, "Why didn’t you tell me you were hurting?”

“Because you weren’t mine anymore, Rafe.”

He blinked, and it hit him all at once. The beach clean-up, you fainted, he manhandled you into the car, yelled at you in the parking lot. Told you to stop being dramatic. Dragged you to the hospital because he thought you were being reckless.

He forced you there when you were already in pain.

“I didn’t know I was sick then. I thought I was just tired, it wasn’t until the bloodwork came back that they realized something was wrong. Dr. Harris said it was severe anemia, that if I had gone through with it… I might not have made it through the bleeding.”

Rafe’s breath left his lungs like he’d been punched. “Jesus.”

Your lip trembled even though you were trying so hard to stay composed. “They said even keeping the baby might… it might not save me either. Giving birth could be just as dangerous. And the baby might not make it.”

Rafe wanted to crawl away.

“And you’ve been going through this alone?”

“I’ve had Sarah. She’s the only one that knows.”

His eyes flicked to the side like maybe if he didn’t look at you, it would hurt less to absorb all of it, the guilt drowning him.

“She should’ve told me,” he muttered, but even that felt weak, it wasn’t Sarah’s burden to carry.

“I told her not to,” you said softly. “I begged her.”

That part gutted him all over again, you were in pain—but you didn’t trust him with it, you’d believed so deeply that he wouldn’t show up, that you chose to suffer in silence.

“I don’t know how I let it get this bad,” he whispered.

“I do,” you said, without accusation. “You stopped seeing me. I was standing in front of you, hurting, and you were too busy trying to be someone else’s son.”

Rafe pressed a hand to his face, red-rimmed eyes that happened when he was trying not to cry. “I see you now.”

A weak apology wrapped in a confession he should’ve made months ago. It was a small thing, such a simple sentence, but it cracked something in you, too.

You swallowed hard, “It doesn’t change everything.”

“I know.”

You both sat there in that painful stillness. So much unsaid even after everything, the past had finally caught up to both of you and didn’t know where to go from here.

“Were you scared?”

“Terrified.” You didn’t let him look away. “I was scared every second. Of what was happening, of what it meant, of what I was gonna do. And I was more scared of telling you than I was of bleeding out.”

He winced but you didn’t stop.

“If I told you, and you didn’t show up, it’d break me in a way I wouldn’t come back from. And if you did show up just to make it about you, to throw it back in my face like you did everything else that scared you—” You shook your head, blinking hard. “I couldn’t survive that version of you.”

“I wouldn’t have—” he started, then stopped. “I don’t know what I would’ve done.”

He rubbed both hands over his face, then through his hair like he was trying to physically pull the memory of who he’d been out of his skin.

“I’m not letting anything happen to you.”

It was the first time in a long time you felt like you weren’t bleeding out alone.

You watched him, and for the first time in months, he didn’t look like the boy who broke your heart. He was a man trying to find a way to put it back together—piece by piece, even if it was too late.

You took a shaky breath, “I don’t want to get back together.”

Rafe didn’t flinch outwardly, but inside, there was a bomb. It was fair, and he knew that, he expected it. The words ricocheted in his head, over and over. It made sense. Fuck, it made perfect sense. He’d been a ghost of himself, lost in Ward’s shadow, drowning in every toxic version of what he thought strength was supposed to be. He’d made you feel alone when you were most vulnerable, hadn’t seen you when you were falling apart.

“I didn’t say all this so you’d take me back. I just…” He exhaled shakily, head in his hands. “I need you to know I’m sorry. And that I—I’m still here. I can’t change how bad I fucked up, but I can show up now. However, you’ll let me.”

He observed you again, eyes rimmed with guilt and love that had aged in the dark, misshapen but still there.

“I’ll drive you to the appointments. Sit in the parking lot if you don’t want me in the room, do the night runs for ginger ale or whatever the fuck else you need. You don’t owe me anything back.”

He wasn’t offering to fix it so he could be your boyfriend again, he was offering because he could finally see past himself.

“I don’t want you to go through any more of this alone.”

He was a boy you'd loved so hard you forgot how to live without him once. And now here he was, offering to stand beside you, to hold space, to carry what you couldn’t anymore.

“You say that now, but you have no idea how bad this could get. I might not make it,” you reminded him. “There’s a real chance this ends with me gone, and if it doesn’t, it could still mean I’m sick."

You weren’t trying to be cruel, he understood that, you were being honest.

“I know it’s serious, but—”

“No,” you cut in, “You don’t know. This doesn’t end with you waiting outside the delivery room and me holding the baby with a tear-streaked smile.” Your voice failed you. “This could end with a funeral, mine, the baby’s, or both. And if that doesn’t happen, if I survive, it still might not feel like a win. I might never stop resenting that I didn’t get to choose.”

He hadn’t just failed you, he’d failed everything he ever said he’d protect. He could taste the bitterness in his mouth, that acrid sting of regret, it made his bones ache. Of course you had a right to be angry.

Rafe’s fingers twitched in his lap, itching to reach out. To touch your knee, your hand, your shoulder, anything, but he didn’t dare.

“They took that from me, my body did,” you admitted, “I don’t know who I’ll be when this is over. I don’t know what will be left of me, if I’ll still be someone who can look at you without seeing every moment I didn’t get to make for myself.”

He didn’t know who he’d be either. What if you died? He couldn’t unsee it now—your body going limp, blood-soaking sheets, hospital lights, helpless. What if you lived and he lost you anyway? Could he watch you walk away—alive, whole—but still broken in all the places he helped crack? He loved you so fucking much it made him hate himself.

And that love—it didn’t ask for pretty endings or promise healing, it watched you, knowing the most honest thing he could do was not fix it, but feel it with you.

“We can be friends, maybe.”

Friends.

It wasn’t a bad word, but for him, it wasn’t neutral when it came to you. He’d tasted your breath and held your dreams and mapped the small places only lovers know, he’d once believed you were it for him.

But that’s what you needed and that’s what you could give, this time—this fucking time—he wasn’t going to take what wasn’t his.

“I’ll be your friend.”

The words nearly choked him. It was how it started, wasn’t it? All those years ago—mud-streaked knees and popsicles melting down your wrists, sunburns and scraped palms, long summer days, nights spent hiding from the storm under porch roofs, hearts still too young to know what they'd grow into.

He stared at you, the girl he’d known since she wore glitter nail polish and refused to eat the crust on her sandwiches. The woman you were now, trembling and brave and a thousand kinds of soft steel.

“I’ll be whatever you need.”

So what if he only ever got to be the one who drove you to your appointments and waited in parking lots and left ginger ale on your porch when you were too sick to eat? That was love too. Rafe let out a breath like he’d been holding it since he was seventeen.

He could do that, he would do that. It wasn’t closure, it was a better version of grace from two people who’d seen the worst of each other.

“Sarah told me you’re in therapy.”

Rafe blinked, like you’d spoken in a language he hadn’t heard in years, the conversation rerouted so quickly it gave him whiplash.

“…How does she know I’m in therapy?”

You gave a half-hearted shrug, “Wheezie.”

A dry chuckle escaped him—one of those stunned, of course kind of laughs. He shook his head slowly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Should’ve known,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. “Girl has ears like a bat. Probably listened through the vents.”

That tugged a smile out of you.

“It’s not…a big deal,” he added, “I mean, I guess it is, but it doesn’t feel like it yet. It’s just me sittin' there trying not to lie to someone who’s already read through all my bullshit before I’ve even said it.”

“It is a big deal, Rafe.”

He peered down at his hands, they were shaking. He tucked them under his legs. “I only started recently. Didn’t think I’d make it past the first session, almost didn’t go in.”

“But you did.”

“I kept hearing your voice—old stuff. Before I started proving you wrong.”

It stung because you remembered those days too, when you believed in Rafe so fiercely it made you blind.

“I wanted to be that guy again,” He confessed, and the guilt in his voice was so sharp it could’ve cut glass. “Not for you. Well—yeah, okay, maybe a little for you. But mostly for me. I didn’t like what I saw in the mirror anymore.”

You reached over then—hesitating for only a second—and placed your hand over his.

His breath hitched, the tears coming suddenly, stinging the backs of his eyes before he could shut them down. He stared down at your hand resting on his, a goddamn miracle he didn’t deserve.

Jesus Christ, he thought, I forgot what this felt like. It was pathetic, really. He’d gone so long without this kind of softness form you, he didn’t know how to take it. You were still offering him pieces of something when you had every right to keep it to yourself.

Rafe was so touch-starved for you, from how you used to bump into him in the hallway, or grab his wrist mid-argument to make your point, or how your leg would press up against his under the table and you didn’t move away. He missed all of it.

He turned his hand slowly, almost scared you’d pull away. When you didn’t, he slid his fingers through yours like muscle memory.

“I’m glad you went.”

He sniffed hard, wiped his face with the sleeve of his sweatshirt, “Yeah, turns out I really am fucked in the head.”

“Don’t say that. I’m serious,” you said, squeezing his hand once more, then pulling away before it became too much. “You’re not fucked in the head. You’re hurting, that’s not the same thing.”

Rafe almost whimpered. He swallowed it down fast—the sound sat heavy in his chest. Your hand left his like it had never been there, and he ached in the space it used to be. His fingers twitched, they hadn’t gotten the message you were gone.

He wanted to grab your wrist and put your hand back.

He didn’t. He sat there, palms burning with the echo of your touch, trying not to look as desperate as he felt. Get a grip, he told himself. He wondered if you felt it—how much it had cost him not to lean in when you pulled away.

His throat burned. “Feels the same. Still got a million things wrong with me, still get mad too fast, still got shit I haven’t unpacked.”

“I know. But it’s not the same, is it?”

Rafe gave a small nod, that wry little smile faltering as fast as it had come, it didn’t reach his eyes. “Nah, it’s not.”

He knew you two were broken people, bruised by what they’d done and what they’d lost, sitting in the ashes of something that might’ve once been beautiful, trying to decide if they could still survive what was left.

Rafe wanted to try, more than anything.

It was the closest thing to forgiveness you could offer and it would have to be enough. Healing wasn’t going to come as an apology or a promise. It was going to be long, ugly, forged in therapy sessions where he had to say things out loud that he’d spent years trying to ignore beneath anger and loyalty and all the wrong kinds of pride.

“Why tonight?” He gripped his own thigh like if he let go, he’d lose the nerve. His voice scratchy, “Why’d you answer my text tonight of all nights?”

You spine straightened like it was a question you hadn’t wanted to ask yourself, either.

“Was it ‘cause you felt bad for me? A-after the gala?”

“Rafe—”

He exhaled, eyes wet again. “W-Was it pity?”

“I missed you.”

You missed him.

It was enough for the part of him that still woke up reaching for a body that hadn’t shared his bed in months, that still kept your contact saved with a heart next to it, even after you’d blocked him.

He recognized that tilt of your chin when you were holding in too much. He used to kiss that jaw. Bite it, even, when you were play-fighting on sun-drenched bedsheets. Now all he could do was watch.

Rafe’s shoulders hunched, chewing on the inside of his cheek, “I missed you more.”

“I’m scared. That even this—whatever this is—"

“I’m scared too,” he cut you off, with that same wreckage in his voice.

It nearly destroyed him, the way you were looking at him—memorizing him. You used to kiss like that. It felt almost wrong, like opening a box you’d locked for good.

It wasn’t reunion or redemption or the kind of love that got wrapped in ribbons and returned in the third act. It was grief, stretched between two people who used to finish each other’s sentences and now could hardly finish a conversation without bleeding all over it.

Then, almost like it wasn’t real, you asked, “Do you ever wish we’d never met?”

Rafe looked at you like you’d just shot him with a rifle, his breath hitched, his lips parted— “No. Fuck, no.”

You nodded slowly, maybe you did, he wouldn’t blame you if you had wished that, no matter how good it started, it left bruises when it ended.

“I think about that sometimes. Not because I didn’t love you. But because I did and lost myself in you. And then I lost my body and the baby. And now… I don’t know who I am without all that loss.”

He was shaking his head. “You didn’t lose the baby.”

“Not yet.”

Rafe had no words that wouldn’t sound like hope, and that felt cruel now. You’ll be okay, or the baby’s strong, or we’ll get through this, those were promises made in ignorance. And his therapist had told him just three days ago, “ignorance isn’t innocence. It’s just fear in nicer clothes”, and while he hadn’t understood it at the time, he understood it now.

“Do you h-hate me?”

“No.” It hurt more than a yes would’ve. “I don’t hate you, Rafe. I just… don’t trust you.”

“Do you think—” he started, stopped, tried again. “Do you think I could ever be the kind of person you’d let in again?”

You looked at him, long and sad.

“I think you could be, I just don’t know if I’ll be around to see it.”

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