This is all my work, bearing parts of my soul and my mind. Please be respectful :)
I hereby declare all my work is original - there will be mistakes and fluff-ups, but I rather that than it being created by a robot; ai isn't welcome on my account, art is.
I am a real person, with a real life, and tonnes of personal issues. This is an escape mechanism for me, but when life becomes too demanding I might dissappear, but I assure you that I always come back.
Like any normal girl you ran to the internet for help.
"Co worker crush"
Rafe was barely your boss, he wasn't even your friend, and yet you still felt desperately in love with him. He treated you like a colleague with a tiny bit more manners than the rest.
And you found yourself trying to impress him.
Bambi pretty fox pretty...
You didn't know what you were but all you knew was that you wanted to be pretty for him. His kind of pretty instead of 'animal pretty', but you didn't even know what kind of girls he liked.
You were trying to better yourself so that when he came back from this week-long business trip, maybe he'd catch feelings too. But you were doubtful, like any normal person would be. Doubtful that you'd manage to compartmentalize all those weird, awkward parts of yourself into something loveable.
The Reddit page stared at you like it wanted to indulge you. Like it was a greedy entrepreneur ready to sell you delusions like it was the upcoming, new, craze.
The flickering screen said that there was something there. That all those signs you thought you were making up were real and breathing.
Maybe this means that you do have a shot with the handsome, Kook prince, afterall.
helloooo if you don’t mind and aren’t feeling to nervous to post could you write a fic where rafe finds reader after she s/hs and he comforts her?
you don’t have to if it’s too much xx
Hello Nonnie,
Yeah I could definitely do that, it's one of those things that is very subjective and very sensitive, so I'll focus on writing it delicately.
I have experience with those topics and so when I write about this I will do so though a lense of grace, compassion and understanding, because I don't think that anyone who engages in these behaviors are bad people.
You might have been sad, tired, maybe even a little bit hopeless, but you weren't angry.
You were tired of being called that and you didn't know why everyone is always being so rude, you always tried so hard to be good.
To do the things that make you a better person. Like smiling at children, speaking to pets, helping your family, you look for beauty in nature because apparently that is what you need to do to be better.
But it doesn't help.
And knelt on this accursed bathroom floor, your reflection was passed between the mirror, the glass, the shine of the tiles; no matter what angle you were it managed to catch you as if it were trying to prove a point. To demonstrate your defeat to yourself.
The marks that you had inflicted on yourself, so raw and harsh, a testament really; to all you've endured but refused to speak about.
You can spend the next few days curing the wounds you've drawn into yourself, before doing it all over again, what a contradiction that is.
You know that, although a little sadistic, this method does make you feel better, like how you don't remember the temperature of this bathroom until you look for it - that numbness is how you know it helps you.
But the secrecy doesn't, so when the door swings open and frames Rafe standing there - his hands frozen in motion - you couldn't do anything to cover yourself. Your vulnerability and your afflictions lay bare to his horrified expression.
"..What the fuck..?" he says, barely managing to push the words past the tension of his body.
We were surrounded by nothing aside from that thick, stale air that hangs around someone who struggles to breath through their suffering. You didn't know if he saw it - the exhaustion - or if he just saw this as a childish act, perhaps even worse, as an attempt of getting attention.
Your arms collected your limbs, hugging your knees into your chest, some small motion that felt like harboring a little bit of dignity. You didn't say anything, you didn't need to, your breath shook as heavy as a storm that even a skilled sailor would flinch away from.
And rafe saw this, you knew he saw you, you just weren't sure which part, and in which kind of way.
Thoughts raced through his mind so fast he could feel dizzy. You were looking at him in that way you do when you suspect you've done something that might make him love you less, like it was possible for his love to be terminated.
It broke his heart, shattered in a way that he'll have to recover from at the bottom of a glass, but this wasn't about him, it was about you; and the way that he didn't know that there were cracks on you that he needed to fill. But you always were such a dream, and the suffering, he wants you to blame on him.
He should have been there for you.
He lowered himself to your level, eyes intense but soft, in the way that you've only seen Rafe do.
"what's goin' on baby? Talk to me, mh?" he murmured hands softly taking yours, looking in your eyes, not your scars, but your eyes.
You parted your lips to speak, you hid so many questions under your tongue, questions about him, about the possibility he might pull himself away, about shit that you've been dragging behind you.
You could understand why he could love this back.
"I just- ...I'm sorry" you mumble, you hand pawing at your teary eyes. You felt pathetic, scared, and infantile. Why couldn't you just push through it like everyone else, why did you have to be so damn emotional all the time and have nowhere to put it all.
"Don't do that. Don't apologize, it's not your fault." he says sharply, but not angry, he couldn't stand seeing you tolerate all this and then guilt
Rafe let's out a sigh from his nose, trying to untangle the thick blanket that hindered his ability of emotional vulnerability. He wanted so much, to be a better man for you.
You try to speak but couldn't, giving up or giving in, either way, this surrender of your voice the smallest sacrifice you've made to your sadness, it was a drop in the ocean. You couldn't justify anything, probably should be paying attention to the rest of the destruction that this melancholy brings.
Rafes eyes follow anything your defeated poise offers him. He doesn't know what thoughts are running through your mind, but he knows they're not good ones.
"It's okay baby." he says, moving a little closer so that he could be beside you.
You felt as though the world barely exists for you anymore. All the opportunity and beauty that is so eagerly pushed down our throats about the world and its expanse, feels dark and twisted to you. The endless wonder lacks substance, and it lacks appeal.
"no, it's not." you reply dryly, "it never was okay, it never will be okay."
You wish you were being dramatic, or something akin, but it didn't feel like it. It felt like this is the top of a climax, and in a sense, the end of something all together.
Rafes heart dips but he doesn't let it show because you are not a hopeless case, so for as long as he is allowed to he'll try to make it better. "I'll make it okay"
A soft scoff passed your lips, "that's stupid, Rafe."
He looks at you and shrugs slightly, "what's stupid is thinking we can't make shit better.. 'cos we can."
You sigh, running your fingers through your hair. An optimistic and a pessimist, what an exhausting duo.
His hand softly catches yours, an earnest look in his eye, "and we begin with the small things first.. I think.."he half mumbles the last bit, a hint of a joke pulling at it.
For so long this world has been losing its tolerance for us, and in turn, we've been losing our compassion for one another. In this world there is no hope for a fragile mind like yours. Your sensitivity will be what breaks you, I wonder if this statement alone is enough to.
You mumble some words to Rafe, mind so foggy and numb it's hard to recall them. But rafes hands never stilled, his heart never stumbled, he was here for you and you felt it. It's disgusting loyalty you've pined for your whole life, and you just want him to hold you, for that's what love does.
And as your lips spill out nothingness you see your shoulders slumped in a hunch, since when have you resembled a monster more than a human being.
"baby.." Rafes soft voice chimed, "come back to me."
He knows how deep it is because you've never felt anything lightly. And he loves you.
So he holds you close, because it's a promise.
And you hold him back like you'd fall off the earth if you let go.
But he'd never let you go, he's never going to let you into the dark again, for you've spent too much time there. It's time for you to learn about the sunshine, the sleepy flowers, and the axis of his arms around you.
If Simon could drop his gear, lose what it means to be a soldier, and forget almost everything about himself, then he'd have you.
The pretty little thing from the other task force.
Gentle face, soft eyes, nervous enough to have a little edge but still harbour enough compassion to make others feel comfortable.
He can see how you move in your uniform, it always looks slightly too big on you, but he knows that when it comes down to it, you have as much bite as anyone else.
You just choose to be soft.
You've spoken to him a few times, he's replied harsh, reserved. He thinks you're adorable, his heart yearns to tell you secrets and to charm you into eternity, but he speaks like a man who's impatient and uncaring.
He barely knows you, but he feels so much for you. Maybe it's the cold nights and bitter food rotting into his mind, making him reach out for things that might comfort him.
Damn, if he's not careful he could love you till his heart heals.
Your eyes wander the aircraft shelter, and he's desperate to ask you what you're looking for. Why you're so observant, why you're in this line of work what horrors have taught you to be the way you are.
He can follow you room to room, busy and lined with sweaty, classless soldiers. The foul odour of blood sticks to the muddy tread of boots, but it's.. Not right.
You don't love him and he can't blame you - You're almost perfect strangers.
But he dreams about you in the cold sheets of his bed, he wraps his hand around his dick inside the musky shower stalls rubbing to the thought of you.
He's not a fucking creep, he's just trying to get over something that doesn't exist.
He imagines holding you close to him at night, the scent of your purfume like the first time he smelt it. He gets this weird feeling in his chest at night and at times can barely eat because of it.
He dreams of you, and that is not to say it is a good dream, but rather a nightmare. This thing he calls love is jagged and the horrors are sharp, he dreams of you, because it's the only place this love feels less humiliating.
oh i forgot to mention thank you for writing!!! writers deserve the world for all the effort they put into their work.
love your work and writing style, especially for the rafe x reader ones (im a goner for rafe) you turn words into emotion in all your fics. take care love 🫶🏻🫶🏻
Thank you so muchh, you are so lovely!
I love that you appreciate my work, rather than it just being posted to an endless void. It really keeps me going to know that people enjoy it.
helloooo if you don’t mind and aren’t feeling to nervous to post could you write a fic where rafe finds reader after she s/hs and he comforts her?
you don’t have to if it’s too much xx
Hello Nonnie,
Yeah I could definitely do that, it's one of those things that is very subjective and very sensitive, so I'll focus on writing it delicately.
I have experience with those topics and so when I write about this I will do so though a lense of grace, compassion and understanding, because I don't think that anyone who engages in these behaviors are bad people.
i’ve read most of your fics and woah girlie your writing is BEAUTIFUL!!! you capture emotion so well in all your fics especially the rafe x reader ones where she’s going through smth. thank you for writing!!! you writers deserve the best. take care <3333
Aw, this is so sweet <3 it's the greatest honor to have your work appreciated like this. I think the community within Fandoms is one of the most precious things that we must continue nurturing, and it makes writing for it just so much more enjoyable.
You all really keep me going. Thank you so much for the kind words they mean the world. <3 xxx
Simon could stop a flying bullet between his teeth.
He could kill a task force of trained soldiers with his bare hands.
And he survived the hell hole that was his childhood.
He has survived straight-up death, but whatever heartbreak claims to be, seems to be what is killing him.
You, his dancing sunlight, his shaking hands pushed you up and into the sky. He should have known that you'd find your alignment up there, leave him down on earth because he didn't have saturn rings, or mercurys charm.
In the yawning sky is where he looks for you. The glittering expanse mocks his longing, he couldn't compete with a galaxy full of stars.
He will find your drops of golden light. He will find you in the flames of a campfire and it's floating embers, and he'll grit his teeth as it goes out because he must remind himself that it's not really you.
You can't cradle a flame, you can't hide the sun in the space of your ribs. You can't beg for heartbreak to learn about mercy.
"Just make sure you're charging her for what it's worth, and not for shit she doesn't need."
Rafes voice was low, dark, and you could tell that he was trying to be discreet in threatening the mechanic - trying to protect you from hearing it.
From the way the mechanics face drained of colour, you were pretty sure Rafe carried his point across.
"Y-Yeah, yeah of course. I would never-" the ghostly white mechanic stammered. Because he knew that the last time you stood in here - without Rafe - that was exactly what he did. Overcharge and lie because you were a female without the knowledge or experience he had.
The man's hand fiddled nervously with the battered, old till. Mumbling something about a discount that you were pretty he just invented to keep Rafe off his back.
Rafe stood slightly behind you. His body like a gaurd dog, his face hardened because he knew what kind of men these were.
He hated you being here because he saw how they looked at you - but then again, that is why he is here. He won't let anything happen, and if something did, he'd start a fight.
With your keys returned and the service paid for, you climbed into the passenger side - as Rafe insisted on driving you back.
The houses rolled past the window as Rafe focused on the road ahead. You tried to keep your gaze away but it always returned to Rafe.
Your cheeks were blushed, your heartbeat slightly fast. You'd blame it on the fresh breeze that crept through the slightly rolled-down window, but it wouldn't be true.
With a shy apprehension, you reached for his hand.
His eyes watched you for a moment, curiosity strung on his features. He had no idea why you reached for his hand like that, let alone why you were acting shy like this, but he'll let you do whatever you want.
It pulled him from his thoughts of how he wanted to smash the mechanics face in.
You parted your lips to speak, but you felt so much shyness for absolutely no reason.
"Thank you for helping me in the garage." you spoke as clearly as you could, keeping your joined hands that rested on your lap.
Rafe looked over to you, seeing your timid state. He knew how you could get when you accepted his help. He didn't know if it was guilt, insecurity, or maybe just something that happened in your childhood.
"It's my job baby.." he murmers, eyes flicking to the road ahead.
You nodded, understanding his point of view - that he genuinely does believe that you're safety is his responsibility.
It's not him trying to compliment you or make you love him more, it is something that is more important than his own safety - it's something he can't explain, it's simply the top of his priorities.
"I need to change the gear, baby.." he said, causing you to instantly retract your hand from his.
You looked at him and he hummed disapprovingly.
"I didn't mean let go." he huffed taking your hand, resting it on the gear stick then placing his hand over the top, "There you go."
You scoffed lightly and more out of embarrassment, "You can just focus on driving, you don't have to hold my hand."
"I don't need to focus on shit." he mumbled like a miserable child, "Wouldn't lose the opportunity to hold my baby's hand. Ever."
Simon could stop a flying bullet between his teeth.
He could kill a task force of trained soldiers with his bare hands.
And he survived the hell hole that was his childhood.
He has survived straight-up death, but whatever heartbreak claims to be, seems to be what is killing him.
You, his dancing sunlight, his shaking hands pushed you up and into the sky. He should have known that you'd find your alignment up there, leave him down on earth because he didn't have saturn rings, or mercurys charm.
In the yawning sky is where he looks for you. The glittering expanse mocks his longing, he couldn't compete with a galaxy full of stars.
He will find your drops of golden light. He will find you in the flames of a campfire and it's floating embers, and he'll grit his teeth as it goes out because he must remind himself that it's not really you.
You can't cradle a flame, you can't hide the sun in the space of your ribs. You can't beg for heartbreak to learn about mercy.
And Simon was trying to pull himself out, but since you left he hasn't been thinking straight. Mind plagued with more darkness than his entire life complied into one single thought.
He hears you everywhere he goes, sees you in the corner of his eye like an angel; his salvation. But the crunchy static that is his grief is hard to overlook.
In the morning glow he would lay in his bed with you. His Manchester apartment has never been in heaven until you came. Wrapping everything around you in this soft golden light.
He hasn't cried since he was a child, but into his alcohol tainted hands he weeps like an abandoned one. He doesn't understand why he's at the bottom of a bottle or why hes thinking about his parents. He doesn't understand love, but he's getting an idea of why people call it heartbreak.
Humans have always been a little too influenced by love, no other animal would severe themselves like this; breeding the origins of desecration inside your own chest.
You opened up like a flower, and he kissed every inch of your naked skin. And when you took his hand he used to think you might float away - you were too damn dreamy to ever be real.
Like a desperate man he began to pray to anything that'll listen but his mouth is dirty and that is what's different about you and him, they always listen to you - he knows why they do; he'd listen to anything you say too.
He is nothing without your love.
But he can't find his voice to ask for mercy, to fall onto his knees and beg for some scrap of you. Everything about him is brutal, his voice harsh, his job violent, his metaphors about killing two birds with one stone; all he knew was that these are not what fairytales are built from.
You deserve a perfect life, one filled with with all the beauty you could imagine. Soft mornings with the scent of coffee swirling in the air, a pet that snuggles up with you, and a lover who would put your hand on his chest every night, whispering long promises of devotion, of safety, of his love.
And he can guess the ending.
You've always been on fire, and he's imagined a forever where your love cradles him. And he's spent long enough chewing his lip to try to understand why it's unconditional.
Why you still check up on him after everything; When he's broken and drunk you come into his apartment, holding your heart open and your eyes soft.
The place turns upside down, the murk and neglect painting silhouettes across the walls that never were actually closing in. And in its wreckage is one gentle dancing light - you.
And he can't touch it, because he's right back where he started. Deeply in love.
You speak as you have always done, it's so pretty - so destructive - and his eyes sting like there were rivers filled with sharp, crushed hearts, flowing behind them.
Words spill over your soft lips, asking how he's been, and he wonders, does he really have to say it?
It hung around around him in the shape of empty bottles and drawn curtains. It whispered in the corners of the room, it whined from inside his chest.
He hopes you don't think he's being creul just because he's silent; he's not angry. He is just quietly realising his disease, the one that lost him everything in his life.
He sometimes acts the wrong way, and you knew that, so you softly embraced him in arms that trickled it's warmth, feeling like a shiver down his spine.
And he held on because It felt like it always has, like the most precious thing he's ever touched in his life.
Scientists can forget about the study of time, lovers already know how to time travel In ways like how this embrace has teleported him back to the first time you touched him.
If he had the ability to, he'd never let you leave, but as much as his arms could be a cage, for you he wanted them to be comforting.
He won't hold you down, for he knows what it's like to be in a place where you don't belong.
