Summary - Rafe promised you the perfect life when you got engaged. He said he'd step up and be the perfect husband and father, but he can't stop himself from fucking it up.
Warnings - Slight violence (throws a glass at the wall), relapsing, ANGST (lots and lots), hurt no comfort, discussions of marriage and starting a family - lmk if I missed anything xx
Disclaimer! Please do not steal or repost my work on this platform or any others - reblogs very much welcome <3
You wake up to the sound of the front door slamming shut, rattling in its frame.
âRafe?â You call down the stairs, but receive no answer.
Climbing out of bed and padding down the hall, you see a column of light coming out from the gap in the kitchen door.
You approach, gently pushing it open to see Rafe pacing around the kitchen, running his hands through his hair. Standing in the door way, you watch him reach for a glass and his whiskey that he keeps in the cupboard for special occasions. He slams them down on the counter harshly, hesitating as he spots you standing in the door way.
âRafe, honey, what happened?â You say gently, sleep evident in your voice as you reach up and wipe your eyes tiredly.
âDoesnât matter.â He grunts, filling the glass with amber liquid and immediately throwing it back.
As you watch him, you recognise the wild look in his eyes. The one that didnât come just from drinking.
âRafe, are you high?â
âHuh? Oh.. yeah.â He says seemingly unbothered, as he refills his glass and swallows it in one gulp again.
âI thought you said you were getting clean? Remember, you told me youâd get clean so we could-â
He launches his glass at wall suddenly, sending crystalline shards of glass ricocheting off the wall, littering the floor of the kitchen in tiny dazzling speckles.
âYouâre always putting some shit on me! Do this, do that, Iâm not fucking doing it anymore!â He screamed.
He starts to stalk towards you. You didnât recognise him at times like this. The drugs transformed into someone else entirely. You stepped back but your back hit the wall. His face was close to yours, his eyes wild.
âYou donât get to tell me what to do.â He gritted out from between his clenched teeth, his breath hot and smelling of whatever alcohol heâd been drinking tonight hot on your face.
He turns, running his hands through his hair again and goes back to his spot leaning on your kitchen island, his head in his heads.
Starting to get angry, you raise your voice too.Â
âRafe, I canât marry someone who doesnât have his shit together! I canât marry someone whoâs gonna come in late at night angry and lose his shit. It doesnât exactly make me feel safe.â
He looks up at you from where his head was hanging, the crazed look in his eyes now replaced with something that looked almost like⌠concern. His eyes red and glistening in the dim light coming from above the island with unshed tears. But, you continued.
âLook at us, Rafe! Look at the situation weâre in! You think we could bring a kid into this?â
He runs his hands over his face, all the anger drained from him, looking sorry for himself as he starts to move towards you again.
âI know, baby. I messed up. âS not gonna happen again.âÂ
You shake your head and step away from him again.
âBut it will. I know it will, it always does.â
âNo baby, I swear. Iâm gonna get clean, I-Iâll get my shit together, w-weâll-â
You interrupt him, crossing your arms across your chest defensively, shielding yourself from his unpredictable anger, and shaking your head.
âYou always say this, Rafe, and nothing ever changes.â
He stops in front of you, a million thoughts swirling around his head. Regret the biggest of all. It was painted across his face with the deep crease in his furrowed brow. A stray tear slipping down his cheek.
âYou donât feel safe with me?â He says it softer, looking heartbroken, more tears run their tracks down his face. ââI always keep you safe, baby, you know that come on.â
âNo Rafe, you canât seem to keep me safe from the one thing I need saving from. Yourself. You come in, you smash shit up when youâre angry. I donât feel safe in my own fucking home.â
âW-what?â The tears tear down his face in hot angry streaks. âIâd do anything for you, baby, come on. Iâd⌠Iâd die for you, Iâd give you anything you want. Donât do this to me. Iâll change, I swear. Iâll get clean properly this time. Youâll never have to feel unsafe with me again. I never want you to feel like youâre not safe with me.â
âYour words arenât enough anymore. I feel like weâre going round in circles. You told me when we got engaged that youâd leave all of that behind. The drugs, the violence, all of it. I canât do it anymore.â
He comes closer to you now and, reluctantly, you let him, he takes your hands in his and meets your eyes. Regret and pain dulling the usual hues of bright blue, realisation hitting him hard and sudden. He was a mess.
âThen⌠Iâll show you baby, please. Iâll change for you, I swear it. J-just please d-donât go, not like this. I-I need you.â
You shake your head and remove your hands from his.
âI need you to want to change for you, itâs not enough to want change for me. You need to want to change. You need to want to get better, and⌠right now⌠I donât think you do.â
He looks at you, sorrow filling his eyes, the tears now uncontrollable and fierce and, for once, he doesnât try to hide it, doesnât try to play that tough guy persona that had been instilled in him since birth. He just feels. He feels as if his world has been thrown of its axis with the possibility of you walking out on him because he couldnât pull himself together and say no to a fleeting high and a few minutes of forgetting about all of the stress weighing heavy on him.
âI do baby, I swear it. Iâm gonna sort my shit out for you, you canât leave me.â
You step away from him moving towards the door, your own tears making their way down your face.
âTake the couch tonight, Iâll bring some blankets down.â Your voice unrecognisable, cold and unwilling to forgive another time.
Rafe goes to speak, to beg again for you to just hear him out, give him another chance, but youâve already turned your back and headed up the stairs.
He gives in, admitting defeat and heading to the living room. He sits on the edge of the sofa, head in his hands. The tears slip down his face as he rubs at them harshly, making the redness around his eyes worse as he tries and fails to stop the tears.
He hears you coming back down the stairs and immediately sits up watching you walk into the room, throw a blanket and pillow down onto the sofa and turn to leave again to go back to the bedroom.
He grabs your hand as you turn to leave and pulls you into him. You let him. He holds your face in both his hands gently, guiding you to look up at him as he softly thumbs the tears off your cheeks. Holding you like that, seeing the raw pain in your eyes that youâve been hiding for so long, kills him. He canât stand to be the thing that hurts you like this and he feels his heart split in two with just how much you trust him even now, after everything heâs done. Heâs given you no reason to trust him, no reason to be so gentle with him even when he has been far from gentle with you and your heart.
Itâs in that moment, holding your breaking parts together in his hands as you held his, that he knows he canât keep doing this. He canât keep hurting you when youâre the one thing heâd do anything to protect. Rafe had never felt like this in his life about anyone. Not Sarah, or Ward. You were his everything and if you left⌠well, heâd quite simply fall apart. You were the last good thing in his life, building him up from nothing and keeping him grounded. You constantly saw the good in him, the potential, that nobody else could see. You encouraged him to be the best version of himself, the Rafe that could be kind and gentle, the Rafe that would be a good husband to you and a loving father, better than his father could have ever been, and heâd thrown it all away. In a split second decision, heâd chosen a temporary and futile attempt at escape rather than his love. He knew that heâd really fucked up this time.
He pulls you into a hug and buries his face in your hair, inhaling the sweet smell of your shampoo and holding you close as if for the last time.
âPlease, baby, one more chance.â He whispers into your hair.Â
Your own tears melting into his shirt as you sobbed, letting out every single emotion youâd kept in, the exhaustion of holding another person together for as long as you had.
âI canât do this anymore, Rafe. Itâs killing me.â
You stand there for a while, just holding each other silently in the dim light thrown across your living room by the small lamp in the corner. You are the first to pull away. You reach up, placing a soft kiss on his cheek and turning to head back upstairs for your bedroom without saying a word.
Rafe watches you go, staring at the stairs until he hears the soft click of the bedroom door closing. Then he settles himself uncomfortably on the sofa and stares at the ceiling. He stays awake for as long as he can, a million thoughts swirling around his head and a deep sense of dread settling itself deeply and uncomfortably in his chest.
As he drifts to sleep in the silence of your living room, all he can think about is the pain in your eyes and the way you broke in his arms.Â
The bright morning light streams through the gap in the curtains, rousing Rafe from his very light and uncomfortable sleep. His body groans as he pushes himself up, a heavy pounding behind his eyes as his head screamed.
His first thought is you. How upset you were last night, he was going to make it right. He was going to find you and sit you down and reassure you that this time heâd be better, that heâd finally get it right and prove to you that he could be the kind of husband you deserved to have in your life. One that made you feel safe and loved.
âY/N?â He shouted up the stairs, voice scratchy with sleep.
There was no response, only the silence of the house and the cawing of the gulls outside.
âBabe?â He tried again.
Still no response.
Thinking you were still sleeping, he crept up the stairs and pushed open the bedroom door.
The room was empty. The curtains opened with the morning light streaming in in beams, the bed was made pristinely looking untouched and almost like a hotel bed in the way that it seemed unfamiliar to him without your outline in its sheets.
As he walked to further into the room, a soft gleam caught his eye from your bedside table.
Your engagement ring.
Rafe started to panic, his breaths coming in harder and his eyes filling with tears.
No, no, no. This couldnât be happening, you couldnât have left.
He ran over to the cupboard, throwing it open, the wooden doors groaning and rattling on their hinges. All your clothes were gone. He ran to the dresser, hurriedly and carelessly throwing open the drawers to find them all empty.
Rafe started to pace again, his heart beating out his chest. He runs his fingers through his hair, muttering to himself. He launches his fist at the wall, the searing pain of his fist breaking through the plaster proving a futile distraction to the pain in his chest.
Sliding down the bedroom door, his head in his hands and knees tucked up to his chest, Rafe lets the sobs come freely now. Each sob clawing its way up his throat and out of chest.
You were gone.
He couldnât help but feel like heâd just lost the best thing that had ever happened to him.
a/n: this was a very quick one, I started watching obx and I'm loving it so sorry if you're here for the djo content, I've got plenty in the works - don't you worry
Message to My Girl - Split Enz , (listen whilst you read)
âââ ââ âźâ â âââ
Word count - 2.4k
Summary - Steve plays a song on the radio on your way home from work just for you <3
Warnings - Absolute teeth-rotting fluff, Steve admits feelings for reader, talks of reader not being able to afford college, having a stressful day at work
Disclaimer! Please do not steal or repost my work on this platform or any others - reblogs very much welcome xx
This is the brand new edited version of my original fic (more in a/n)
masterlist
âââ ââ âźâ â âââ
A warm orange hue shone through the windows of WSQK illuminating the two figures sat in the booth. Steve Harrington laid casually across the tattered arm chair in the back corner, picking at a lose thread on the red cushioned seat, honey streaks through his brown hair and his eyes a shimmering amber in the late afternoon sun. Robin Buckley, unlike her seemingly disinterested co-host, was not counting down the minutes on the clock, but hard at work on the last few songs of the evening, switching the tapes after every song and occasionally addressing the viewers through the large microphone perched on the desk in front of the soundboard.
Up. Down. Catch. Repeat.Â
That was Steveâs current mantra as he sat idly in the WSQK booth with Robin, absent-mindedly throwing a red rubber ball up into the air and catching it again with a practiced ease, a dull thud against his palm. Every rise and fall of the ball marked another second stuck waiting, his mind wandered from his duties, deep in thought about something, or someone, elseâŚ
âââ ââ âźâ â âââ
You were known for many things back in high school, straight A student and effortlessly beautiful, wherever you went, the whispers followed. Not that youâd noticed, nestled in the corner of the library between the bookshelves, nose in a book, in your own little bubble of concentration. Until that bubble was popped by an awkward Steve Harrington, sliding anxiously into the chair opposite you at your usual table, asking for help on his algebra homework, his usual insufferably cocky persona nowhere to be seen. After some light conversation and your reluctant agreement to tutor him in math, weekly meet ups in the library under the guise of tutoring became trips to the diner and late night drives in his car, talking about everything and nothing all at once.
From then on, something between you just clicked into place and the two of you became inseparable. The whispers only worsened when the rumour got out that a certain âKing Steveâ had captured your heart, but you couldnât care less. You were not going to let the high school rumour mill ruin your friendship and you were definitely not going to let your feelings for Steve come in the way of your friendship, either. Everyone thought that he was still head over heels for Nancy Wheeler, even if they had parted ways over a year ago now.Â
You were on track to make valedictorian, an offer for Indiana State University and Steve Harrington by your side through it all, your own personal cheerleader. When Steve learned that you were going to have to decline your place at college because you couldnât afford the tuition, he pulled some strings to get you a part time waitressing job at the diner over summer to pick up some extra cash to help your parents with the fees. He would move mountains for you if he thought it would make you happy, and so Steve Harrington vowed that he would do absolutely anything to help you get to college.
âââ ââ âźâ â âââ
Snapped out of his thoughts by the crackle of the microphone as Robin announced the next song over the waves, his eyes scanned the clock mounted above the door again, squinting in the sun to make out the position of the hands. Six twenty-eight, meaning that you were probably just clocking out of the diner now and making your way to the station in his car. It had become a quiet ritual at this point.
Steve would pick you up in the mornings, drive you to work, where heâd leave the car before braving the twenty minute walk down the street to the station. And later, when youâd left work, youâd do the opposite, heading to The Squawk, as Steve and Robin had renamed it, to pick him up, just so he could take you home again. At times it felt a little inefficient, but somehow that made it even more important to the both of you. Some time together at the start of the day, something to hold on to as motivation for the long days you both had ahead of you, then a few more stolen minutes on the drive home. That time with you was irreplaceable to Steve. He couldnât imagine getting through his days without it.Â
Hit with a sudden idea, Steve jumped up from his place in the chair, leaning over Robin to mute the mic.
âLet me pick the next one,â he said.
Letting out an exasperated sigh, Robin batted his hand off the box of tapes next to her, âNo way, dingus, Iâve got the perfect song lined up to round off the show, and besides - the last time you picked a song, we lost like half our listeners.â
âPlease, Robin. You can play whichever song youâve got lined up after, just let me play this one.â He pleaded with her giving the best mock puppy dog eyes he could muster.
Robin snorted, rolling her eyes "If you must. Just donât play something shitty, itâs one of the last songs of the dayâ.
Grinning, Steve was already on his feet. He hurried over to the stacks of tapes scattered around the booth, each box carefully labelled alphabetically (all thanks to Robin, obviously). The current song faded out behind him, the final notes lingering as Steve flipped through the tapes quickly, fingers moving with purpose. He knew exactly which song he was looking for.
He dropped it in front of Robin with a smile.
âThe Split Enz? Really?â
She shook her head in disapproval of his choice, but slid the tape into the player anyway, already leaning towards the mic to announce it as their final song of the night.
âââ ââ âźâ â âââ
You crossed the parking lot in an easy stride, gravel crunching beneath the battered work shoes as you headed to Steveâs beamer, parked at the back of the lot where heâd left it that morning before heading off to his own job. The sight of it made your chest warm in a way the long shift hadnât managed to touch, it was a quiet reminder that heâd be waiting for you, same as always. No matter how exhausting the day had been, it always ended like this. With Steve.
You tugged your apron loose as you walked, and let your hair fall free from the bun youâd kept it tied up in all day. The release sent a wave of relief through your scalp, easing the headache that had been building for hours, whether from the tight knot or the string of angry customers, you werenât quite sure. You were done and you were on your way to him.
Reaching the car, you unlocked it and slid into the driverâs seat, tossing your apron and bag into the back before turning the key. The radio clicked on automatically, already tuned to WSQK, as you pulled out of the lot.
The previous song faded just as you merged onto the road. There was a brief shuffle of static, a murmur near the mic, then a familiar voice came through the speakers.
âAlright folks,â Robinâs voice chimed in, bright and unmistakably smug. âYouâre listening to WSQK. Hope you survived today, weâre closing things out with a song chosen by none other than our resident heart throb slash sound guy, who apparently thinks Hawkins wants a love song to end the day. Yeah, Iâm rolling my eyes too.â
There was a muffled protest in the background.
âRobin-â
âRelax, Steve. Iâm helping you out,â she shot back. âThis oneâs called âMessage to My Girlââ.
Steve cleared his throat, clearly flustered. âIf youâre listening,â he said, softer now, like the words were meant only for you, âthis oneâs for you, honeyâ.
The music swelled through the speakers, and you smiled to yourself, knowing exactly who he meant.
I donât wanna say I love you, that would give away too much.
You hummed along under your breath, through the silence of the country roads, the song blaring from your car as you sped towards the station past trees and greenery that had all begun to blur into one, the cool evening air whipping your hair around wildly as you drove. The last remnants of the afternoon sun were warm on your face as it was beginning to set over the horizon, casting the roads and the forest surrounding you in a beautiful golden glow. Your shoulders relaxed, your chest loosened, and the tension of the day, the angry customers, the headache, the endless orders, melted away. It was just you, the road, and the song, each note the perfect reminder of the fact that some things in life were worth waiting for.
Though Iâm frightened by the words, I think itâs time I make it heard, so Iâll sing it to the world this message to my girl.
The words felt intimate, meant only for you, even though they were broadcast across the entirety of Hawkins. You smiled to yourself, the warmth of knowing heâd picked this just for you making your heart flutter. The guy who unexpectedly stumbled into your life one day in high school, now the steady ground you long to come home to after a particularly difficult shift. The song swelled, carrying you towards him, like a ship to its mooring, every lyric a little message just for you.
Oh thereâs nothing quite as real as the touch of your sweet hand.
By the time you reached the stretch of road leading to the station, the song had moved into its final chorus, and your smile was impossible to hide. The day behind you didnât matter anymore, all that mattered was the music, the moment, and the thought of seeing him again.
âââ ââ âźâ â âââ
You pull up in the lot of the station as the sun finally disappears, small stars illuminating the dusky purple and pink shades of the twilight. The street is quiet, everything softened by the fading light, you pull the key from the ignition and climb out the car, heart racing, one arm leaning on the roof as you watch him burst through the doors of the Squawk and cross the parking lot towards you.
Before you can rush over to meet him, heâs already at your side. His arms wrap around you instantly, strong and comforting, warm and familiar, pulling you close. You lean into him, and the weight of separation falls away completely, everything snapping into its rightful place. Your hearts once again beating in sync with one another.Â
âDid you like the song, sweetheart?â he murmurs, resting his forehead against yours.
You smile, fingers brushing the short hairs at the nape of his neck. âI canât believe you remembered that I love that songâ.
âOf course I did,â he says gently. âHow could I forget? Youâre pretty unforgettable.â
Thereâs a pause, just long enough for your heart to catch in your chest, and he looks at you fully, eyes soft and searching.
âI meant every word of it,â he says, and you feel the weight of his honesty in the quiet evening air.
He leans in for a kiss, and you lean in to meet him, the first kiss comes naturally, soft, the kind that makes you melt into him. It feels right. The line between friends and more finally broken with a confession disguised as a song and a message. Pulling back to look in his eyes, he moves in for another, slower this time, more deliberate. When he finally pulls back, his hands remain on your waist.
âI love you, y/n. I think⌠I think I have for a while nowâ.
Shock pins you in place for a moment. You know how hard it is for him to say how he truly feels. And when he sees the flicker of surprise on your face, his lips part slightly, uncertainty creeping in.
âI know I shouldâve told you sooner. Itâs just, you know me. I donât talk about feelings and⌠stuff. And you donât have to say it back, I just⌠wanted you to knowâ.
You laugh softly, almost a whisper, and hide your face in his shirt, letting yourself melt against him. âI love you too, Steve,â you murmur.
The tension in his shoulders melts, and he exhales slowly, like heâs been holding that breath for weeks. âIâm so glad. I donât think Iâve ever felt like this about anyone in my lifeâ.
You tilt your head up, smiling softly. âWell, lucky for you⌠Iâm not going anywhereâ.
He lets out a soft laugh, the kind thatâs more warmth than sound. âYeah. Donât think I could get rid of you if I triedâ.
His gaze drifts to the car, then back to you, his fingers brushing gently over yours. âNow⌠I think itâs about time I got you home, huh?â
He takes your hand and leads you to the passenger side door, opening it gently and letting you slide into the seat next to his. As Steve turns on the ignition and pulls the car out of the lot, the tires crunch over the gravel, the memory of the song, the one that brought you here, hums softly in your mind.
Though Iâm frightened by the words, I think itâs time I make it heard, so Iâll sing it to the world this message to my girl.
Itâs almost like heâs singing it to you again now, not through the radio, but with his whole heart. His hand settles lightly on your thigh as he drives, warm and grounding, and you glance at him, catching the look in his eyes, steady and soft, saying everything he canât put into words.
Somehow, you know this is only the beginning. And as the sun sinks fully beneath the horizon, small stars littering the black night sky in small glowing specks of light, you realise that no matter what comes next, youâll face it together, hand in hand, heart to heart, driving off into the unknown with the certainty that, no matter what, you have each other.
âââ ââ âźâ â âââ
a/n: I hope this new edited version with around 500 extra words is better than the original, I still don't feel like its perfect or my best work, but I'd say I'm happy enough with it. I always struggle a bit with fluff, I tend to thrive with angst (e.g. In a Lake) so I just thought I'd try something new with this fluffy fic.
Iâm imagining you and Steve as high school sweethearts
Obviously, heâs Steve âthe hairâ Harrington aka. King Steve, whatever you want to call him,
He has all the girls at Hawkins High falling at his feet, but somehow, heâs only ever had eyes for you
No matter how many girls he takes on dates or moreâŚ
He just cannot get you out of his head
And you, well, youâve never noticed
Not at how he stares at you longingly across the hallway and the lunch room and the gym during his basketball games (need I go on?), or how he practically stares holes in the back of your head from his seat behind you in class
His friends have noticed though
How could they not?
They tease it for him relentlessly
Because how could the most sought after boy in school be head over heels for the one girl who ignores his existence entirely?
So, Steve decides to prove them wrong and makes it his mission to ask you out to the final dance of senior year
HoweverâŚ
He finds it extremely difficult
Every time youâre in his near vicinity he just loses his words completely and pushes his hair back, flashing you his signature dopey grin
Until...
Heâs finally had enough of the relentless teasing from Tommy and Carol one day over lunch in the cafeteria
He slams his hands down on the table, rattling their lunch trays and stands up abruptly telling them to watch and learn
Steve marches over to your table from his on the opposite side of the cafeteria
You and your friends all look over in surprise as a very nervous-looking Steve Harrington stands at the end of your table
He manages to pull it together though and successfully gets out the words to ask you to the senior dance
Of course you say yes
Itâs Steve Harrington after all
And thatâs how it began
Rides around town in the beamer at night
Him climbing in your window to help you âstudyâ
The endless dates
The sweet notes dropped in your locker
Kisses in the hallways between classes, and some slightly more heated kisses behind the bleachers
Steve Harrington was well and truly obsessed with you
Then came the dance
He pulled up outside your house ready to pick you up
A beautiful bunch of red roses on the passenger seat and his clammy hands gripping the steering wheel
He forces himself out of the car as nervous as that day heâd marched over to you in the cafeteria and asked you to the dance
So, he was really doing this
He knocks on your door
Heâs absolutely knocked off his feet when you answer
Dressed in the most gorgeous red dress
His lady in red.
At his wide eyed expression you laugh softly and smile up at him
He leads you to the car by your hand and opens the passenger door for you
Ever the gentleman, Mr. Harrington
Before you climb in the car, he grabs the roses from the passenger seat and hands them to you with a kiss on the cheek
Your heart positively melts
Suprisingly to Steve, he manages to contain his nerves and not make a total fool of himself
You both have so much fun at the dance
Shared smiles, sheepish laughs
A few stolen kisses every now and then, when youâre sure the chaperons arenât watching
Then the song starts
Everyone files off into their couples and start to slow dance
As the song plays, Steve canât help but stare at you in disbelief that you were here
That youâd said yes
He feels like the luckiest man in the world
Here, with you
And from that moment on, Steve would never forget his lady in red
The most beautiful girl in the world
He wouldnât change that night for the world
He still brings it up to you now, when the song plays
Stood in the kitchen together, cooking for your six little nuggets
Heâll pull you in and slow dance with you in the kitchen, making your kids groan and roll their eyes
Steve still thinks you look just as ethereal as you did that night, even though youâre both well into your late 30s by now
Now, this song is not Gatorâs usual type of vibe
Iâm aware
But, he canât seem to stop playing it
In his room, in the cruiser, in the shower
He is utterly obsessed with it, as he is you
It all started on an ordinary shift
He went to the little diner he frequents on shift
Hoping for his usual (black coffee - no cream, no sugar)
But what he found instead
The most beautiful girl he had ever seen in his life working behind the counter
He was used to June, the old lady who owned the diner, pouring him his morning coffee and making polite small talk with her
Heâd actually grown quite fond of her over time, even if heâd never admit it
But on this day, she was nowhere to be seen, only you
And, well, Gator was definitely not going to complain about that
You took his order with a smile, reaching behind you to play a different song on the radio behind you
This song.
He watched you as you glided round the diner with ease
Taking orders, bringing out plates of food, chatting with the regulars
You looked absolutely in your element
Apron tied round your waist, a pen and notepad sticking out the pocket and a few stray hairs coming out of the loose ponytail you had your hair tied up in
The soft golden light of the morning making you glow
He couldnât help but think about how there was no other girl quite like you in this town
And trust me he would know
Just as youâre heading back to the counter, his radio crackles to life
Something about him being needed at a gas station just outside of town
Reluctantly, and I mean very reluctantly,
He drags himself out of his seat, throwing some money down on the counter next to his abandoned cup, with a very hefty tip, and sulks off to his cruiser
He starts to come in every morning after that
You and June running around the diner seeing to the customers
He tells himself heâs here for the coffee
He isnât
Heâs here for you
Your smile, your laugh, the way you float round the diner effortlessly
And always playing that damn song at least once every morning
It gets to the point that he finds himself absentmindedly humming it all the time
Thinking of you
Yet, he still comes in every day
Slowly, he builds up the courage to start having small conversations with you between customers
It starts out curt, polite
Almost reluctant on your part which heâs sure is because of his reputation around town and the shiny deputy badge on his tac vest
But he just canât seem to stay away
Short conversations turn into longer ones, every morning over his coffee until heâs inevitably called away to work
Then, he finds himself not seeing his usual roster of women any more
He tells himself heâs bored
But itâs because he canât shake this one girl and the melody of that song out of his head
One day, as your chatting away to him as he sits at the counter, giving him that effortlessly angelic smile
The kitchen bell dings, and you turn to leave and deliver a fresh plate of pancakes to one of the regulars
Then his radio crackles away as it always does
But as he turns to leave he hears his name called out in your soft voice behind him
He stops and turns as you rush over to him, handing him a piece of paper
Claiming he left his receipt behind
But Gator never gets a receipt?
He thanks you and tips the edge of his cap towards you with a smile before heading out to his car
Only when heâs in the safety of his car does he unfold the small scrap of paper
Gatorâs jaw drops
On the piece of paper is your number
With delicately written, call me with a small heart next to it
Kurt is so Radiohead coded itâs actually painful
Again, definitely not his canonical music taste
But, alas, here we go
Kurt picks you up as your spree driver
This version of Kurt is actually not a killer, but he is still very much obsessive
Especially when he meets you
Your picture pops up on his spree app and he immediately stops his mindless rambling to his viewers mid sentence
Obviously, he accepts the request almost immediately
Excited to have a pretty girl in his car
To attract viewers to his stream, of course
Not for any other reason right?
As he pulls up to the coffee shop in town, he is left absolutely speechless again
You stand there, laptop in hand and a coffee in the other, waiting on the side of the road
Your hair is blowing lightly in the breeze and Kurtâs brain just about short circuits
Walking over to the car you ask if heâs Kurt
Kurt is still in a stunned silence and his mouth moves up and down like a fish, no words will come out of his mouth
He tries again
Still no words
He clears his throat and lets you know he is in fact Kurt, finally
You giggle and Kurt swears it is the sweetest sound heâs ever heard
In fact, he wants to hear nothing else for the rest of his life
Then he reaches over to the passenger side handle and swings the door open for you
You climb in and take in the cameras positioned at various angles throughout the vehicle
Kurt notices your hesitation
He immediately starts to reassure you heâs a streamer and he is definitely not up to anything nefarious
You ask if heâs streaming now?
Of course he is
Then you smile sheepishly and wave at the camera, saying a quick hi
He pulls off the edge of the road and starts driving you towards your house
You make quiet conversation as he drives you
Kurt is just absolutely enamoured by you
The way you actually pay attention to what heâs saying, eager to listen
Rather than ignoring him like most of his other passengers do
And of course, you being there brings in more viewers as they watch poor Kurt stumble over his words and try to keep his composure in the presence of a pretty girl
You find him endearing though, very very sweet
As he drops you off at your house, you hop out the car, thanking him and giving him a little wave and a smile as he drives off
After that, Kurt canât get you out of his head
He even finds himself going out of his way to drive past your house on occasion on his way to collect passengers
Itâs not in a creepy way, he tells himself
Cos heâs definitely not a creep
He just canât seem to get that pretty girl out of his head
And he really wants to see you again
Maybe heâll even work up the courage to ask for your number if he gives you a lift again
As he drives around, Kurt just canât seem to get you out of his head
But, doubt creeps into his mind
A beautiful woman like you would never bat an eye in his direction
Heâs just a spree driver and failing streamer after all
He starts to listen to this song in a sad self-depreciating wet cat of a man kind of way
Kurt is 100% in his yearning era
He searches you up on social media sometimes
Just to look at your posts longingly
Then tells himself off for being weird
But then
About a week later
He gets another spree notification
And by some divine intervention
Its you
Kurt is immediately sooo excited at the prospect of seeing you again
And finally being able to try to make a move this time
He tells his plan to his viewers as heâs driving to the cafe again to pick you up
And, lo and behold, there you
Same place as last week, laptop in hand and coffee in the other
Your face lights up as you see him approach
Hopping in the car, you say hi to him
You remembered his name
He is absolutely gobsmacked again
You remembered his name?!?
Kurt cannot believe his ears
The drive passes as it did last time
Light hearted conversation and Kurt stumbling over his words like a doof
But you love it
You think heâs the absolute cutest man youâve ever met
You even go so far as to tell him that
And he has to do a double take to make sure heâs just heard what he thinks he did and that heâs definitely not dreaming
Realising heâs staring at you in shock
He quickly gets his eyes back on the road and grips the steering wheel a little harder
When you pull up at your house you linger in the car for a minute before Kurt speaks up
He tells you he thinks youâre absolutely gorgeous
And asks for your number so he can take you out some time
Or, just give you lifts if you need it
Because, letâs be real, Kurt would do anything for you
You laugh softly and agree, giving him your number
And a kiss on the cheek as you get out the car
Kurt goes bright red
He tries to pull himself together as you wave and go off into your house
Then, of course, he pulls out his phone and sends you a message immediately
Travis is giving me major geese stan slightly performative male energy
AnywaysâŚ
Travis sits behind the desk at the storage place, sneakers kicked up on the counter headphones in his ears
With this song playing
Travis loves his music
He missed having it when he was in prison, it is literally his lifeline
He is always listening to music
His little white wired headphones permanently in his ears (see what I mean, performative male lmaooo - Iâm joking really, I love Travis)
Lost in his music, he doesnât notice the bell above the door jingle as you walk in
Juggling some cardboard boxes
Stacked up to cover your face
Travis immediately pulls a headphone out and rushes over to help
Taking the boxes out of your arms he is immediately stunned as he sees just how gorgeous you are
However,Â
This doesnât stop Travisâs rambling
If anything, he starts talking more
A lot of wows
And, very on brand for Travis, he starts rambling away
Something about, gosh these boxes are so heavy, what have you even got in here?
Not that you have to answer obviously, you donât need to tell him about all the private business youâve got going on in those boxes
But, to his surprise, youâre just as chatty as him
You start to telling him about how youâve just moved to the area and you need somewhere to store your stuff until you can move into your new house
Travis immediately kicks himself, because, of course youâre put together
Probably moving into your new house with a partner or something
But as heâs helping you carry your many many boxes down to your unit
Him doing the majority of the heavy lifting, of course
You fall into easy conversation
He finds out that you in fact do not have a partner and its just you and your dog moving into this new house
A new job that caused you to move into the area at the local newspaper
And, you know nothing about the place that youâve found yourself in
Of course, Travis overshares in response
Telling you about prison, what heâs up to now, things he likes to do in the area, how much he enjoys the local paper (heâs never read it) and the story behind his nickname
He promises to keep an eye out for your articles in the paper
He might just have to start buying the paperâŚ
The time it takes you to unload your boxes into the unit quickly flies by and youâre both making your way back up to the reception desk
You linger awkwardly not wanting to leave
This guy was really sweet
And, maybe, just maybe
Youâd made your first friend in the area
You say your goodbyes and make your way back out to your car
Travis quickly gets an idea
Reaching for the notepad on his desk and a pen from the pot he quickly scribbles down his number
Then he finds himself running out after you just as youâre about to pull away
Rolling down the window
He passes you the paper
In case you need any help with moving stuff again
Of course
A few days later, Travis is sat at work again
Listening to Geese in his headphones
And thinking about you
When his phone vibrates on the desk next to him
A text from you
Asking if you could take him up on his offer to help with moving in
Travis is literally jumping for joy
He didnât think youâd actually text
Maybe you thought he was a creep or something?
But heâs glad that you did
He tells you tomorrow is his day off
You offer to meet him at work to collect the boxes and take them to your new house
Travis is ecstatic
The gorgeous girl from work actually enjoyed his company and wants his help?
Heâd run out of work right this second if you wanted him to, if only it didnât violate his parole agreement
He shoots you a quick reply and pops his headphones back in, ready for his shift to end
The next day, as promised, you show up at the storage place
Travis stands there in front of the building, dressed down in some jeans and a flannel
You canât get over just how⌠pretty, he looks
The sun in his dusty dyed blonde hair and his little hoops glittering in the light
Greeting him with a smile, he grabs the boxes for you
And you both hop into the car, setting of to the house, your entire life in boxes in the trunk
The windows are down in the car, the wind whipping your hair around wildly as he watches you drive
He reaches for the radio and switches it on
Of course this song plays
Youâre driving through town, Travis chattering about different places
He points out one cafe and tells you its the best cafe in town
Absolutely fantastic coffee, and a range of baked goods, delicious he says, baked fresh every day
You mentally note that for later
When all the things are moved into the house
You and Travis linger on the porch
His cup of tea youâd made him in hand
You laughing at something heâd said
Then out of nowhere you ask him if heâd show you that cafe some time
Travis is confused at firstÂ
Because heâd literally just shown it to you on the way here?
Then you smiled at him with that unreal smile and laughed
Before clarifying that you were asking him out
And honestly
Heâs blown away
He cannot believe that youâd just asked him out
But he was more than eager
He leaves your house that night with a brand new pep in his step
Headphones firmly back in his ears
He couldnât get over just how lucky he was to be taking out the most beautiful girl heâd ever laid eyes on
Keys gives me the biggest sweetheart energy of all
He definitely has his heartfelt songs that remind him of his girl
And this is one of them
They definitely met at college
Probably in the library
Keys sitting at a table tucked away in the corner
Head in his laptop
Whisked away by the sea of code and unfinished assignments in front of him
You canât seem to find any available seats in the library when an empty table in the back corner catches your eye
As you approach, you notice the cute guy buried in his laptop
Itâs too late to find somewhere else to sit as Keys look up from his laptop, catching your eye
Heâs instantly taken aback by just how pretty you are
Looking slightly stressed as you have clearly been looking for somewhere to sit alone in the library away from the noise of the group work happening across the room
You smile gently and ask if the seat across from him is free
Sensing your nerves, he offers you the seat and goes back to his coding, leaving you to your studies
Every so often, you feel him glancing up from his computer to look at you
Nose in your book
Occasionally highlighting things and jotting notes delicately down the margins
Keys feels like a weirdo watching you study but he just canât help himself
He notices how careful you are with the pages, writing your notes gently in cursive so you donât accidentally tear the pages with your pen
He likes the care you put into your work
It reminds him of the work he should be doing right now
That he is currently distracted from by you
You look so engrossed in your novel
A little crease in between your brows as you read
A crease that he wants to reach out and smooth over
NO
Coding
Focus on the coding, Keys
He scolds himself
This needs to get done so that he can submit it tomorrow
He forces his attention back to his coding
Heâs successful for about 15 minutes, lost in the peace of the 1s and 0s on his screen
Until he finds himself looking up at you again
But this time
He meets your eyes
You having been watching him
You immediately blush and look back down at your book embarrassed
He canât help but feel itâs kind of cute
He goes back to his work again
But is quickly sidetracked
Trying to think up some way of initiating a conversation with you
Maybe even asking you out
He grabs your attention and asks you about the book youâre reading
The conversation quickly continues
Both of you sharing details about your courses, the looming deadlines of finals and the unbearable noise of the group work happening in front of you
He asks if youâd like to go with him to the library cafe downstairs for a coffee
And of course, you accept
He didnât expect that
Expecting you to make up some excuse and quickly hurry away
But you liked him
He had kind eyes and a cute smile
And from then on
Your library coffees became a weekly occurrence
And cafe study sessions became study sessions in each otherâs rooms
Which quickly became dates
And before you knew it, months had passed as had finals and youâd both graduated
When Keys mentioned moving into a new apartment to be closer to his new job at Soonami, of course you were eager to accept his invitation to move in with him
One night, you were out with friends in the city
Some little bar on a side street
You sat side by side in a booth opposite your friends
When this song started to play
Watching you laughing along to something your friend had said, Keys couldnât help but feel that you looked the most beautiful youâd ever been
You looked carefree and happy
He reaches across under the table, grabbing your hand and threading his fingers through yours and giving it a gentle squeeze
a/n: I'm trying something new with this, so please let me know if you've enjoyed because I have plenty more ideas for this kind of thing! I'm hoping it turned out alright because I started writing this at 11.30pm and it's now 4am so I fear it gets worse as it goes on. I procrastinated my essays that are due next week to write this so I really hope you enjoyed!! xx
Summary - You are missing. You never returned home from work two days ago and Gator Tillman has not stopped searching for his girl, until exhaustion and a storm took over and Roy Tillman put an end to the search. Finding himself unable to eat or sleep, Gator sits reliving his memories of you when his worst fears become reality through breaking news that catches his eye on the TV.
Warnings - Please do heed my warnings because this is VERY HEAVY ANGST, including: main character death, grief, loss, slight injury (Gator accidentally puts his hand in smashed glass), mentions of murder, Roy Tillman (evil evil man), I think that's it but please lmk if there's anything I have missed off xx
Disclaimer! Please do not steal or repost my work on this platform or any others - reblogs very much welcome <3 And most of all, enjoy this angsty asf fic xx
The wooden beams of the house groaned in exhaustion under the barrage of wind and rain from the harsh storm passing through Fargo, breaking the deafening silence that filled the Tillman house. Once a home, the house now stood cold and empty. Your shared laughter and smiles now a haunting echo rattling around its rooms, painful and yet still somehow beautiful. A memory of the love that once existed inside these walls.Â
The burnt orange sofa that is covered in a mismatched and colourful crocheted blanket that you had made and vibrant walls in shades of green that you had painted together now appeared dull and lifeless. All that remained was the ghost of you, laughing when he had knocked over the can of mountain moss, splattering the paint all over you both and leaving a stain on the hardwood floor just by the door that he couldnât scrub out. It tormented him now. The rug that youâd used to cover the spot, when youâd kissed him gently and told him not to worry, now draped haphazardly over a dining chair once again revealing the discoloured green patch on the wood. Rain battered against the windows and thunder rattled their wooden frames as teardrops slid down the panes in intricate patterns, weathering the downpour outside to offer the lone man inside reprieve from the storm.
No amount of silence could quiet the storm in Gator Tillmanâs head as he sat alone on the sofa with his head in his hands, sobbing softly. It was a habit heâd gotten used to over the years, forcing down his emotions and packing them away into the box marked âdo not openâ in the back of his mind. He canât shake your face, your voice, your smile, your laughter that will be engrained into his soul until the day he dies, from his head. Youâd always given him the space and the love to express his emotions in a way heâd never been taught in childhood. Even in his own home he still felt the tremors of Roy Tillmanâs iron fists, an ever-looming reminder of the control his father exercised over his life at every opportunity. His voice in the back of his head playing on a constant loop. Useless. Incompetent. Pointless. He felt your presence, your warmth and your comfort now as he let the tears slide tentatively down his cheeks, even in your absence. Forty eight hours. Thatâs how long it had been since anyone had seen you. Youâd left for work that morning and never returned home. Thatâs forty hours Gator had spent searching for you in every street and alley of Stark County, unrelenting until exhaustion and hunger took over and he returned to your home, alone, after his father called off the search due to the storm.
Yet, sitting in the darkness, bathed in the colourful light of the muted TV, Gator couldnât find it in himself to eat or sleep. Only stare. At the picture of you both that hung above the TV, all happiness and big smiles, as you kissed him on the cheek at your graduation. He remembers it like it was yesterday. Youâd come rushing to the station holding your college acceptance letter. Part of him had worried then that youâd inevitably leave him like everyone else had, get a taste for the big city life and never look back. The other part of him knew that you couldnât bare to be away from him, just as he couldnât you. How ironic. But youâd made it through, side by side, together. He stood there, watching proudly from the audience as youâd marched across the stage to accept your diploma, smiling brightly in that beautiful way that was so full of happiness and love, it warmed his heart and filled it with joy. That was one of the only times in his life Gator Tillman had let himself cry. His heart so filled with pride that a single tear had slipped down his cheek which he quickly wiped away and firmly denied when you asked him about it that night.
His mind began to wander, as the storm continued its assault on his heart. Thunder rattling through the house and lightning occasionally illuminating the room in jagged shards of light. What if you had decided this wasnât enough for you anymore? This small town life, him, the life that youâd carved out for you both together. What if youâd fled? Gone back to the big city to start over? Without him. He couldnât bare the thought and quickly suppressed it.
Royâs interference in your lives had been constant. You hated him. Hated the horrific things heâd made Gator do over the years, the toll it had on him and how heâd use him as a pawn and throw him away when he was no longer useful to him. You knew that wasnât Gator at all. He craved his fatherâs approval because he wanted to be loved and accepted as his son, but deep down, he was a good man. Through the cracks in his facade, you had seen the real Gator, who was kind, gentle and loving. The Gator that held you close and kissed the top of your head when youâd had a bad day, the Gator who treated your younger siblings as his own, playing with them at family events and giving them lifts around town in his cruiser. He was nothing like his father. You knew that in the way he broke so often, that he was fragments of a man glued together with your love. Painstakingly youâd put him back together, piece by piece, with gentle touches and hushed whispers.
Gator knew that nothing in this town went unnoticed by Roy Tillman, especially your distaste for him. He knew that he would be able to tell no matter how hard Gator tried to make sure he didnât, through the clipped conversations at work, how he rarely called his father anymore and never showed up at the ranch for dinners or events. You had separated him from Roy, provided him with the opportunity to grow as his own person and he knows his father would not appreciate that in the slightest. That he would grow to resent you and that he would⌠Gator continued to spiral, bile clawing its way up his throat as a thought crossed his mind. When someone stands in the way of what Roy Tillman wants, they never make it out alive.
Gator jumps up from his place on the sofa, pulling his leather jacket off the hook and throwing on his boots. The noise in the silence of the empty house ricochets off its walls, only a temporary and futile distraction from the crushing emptiness that seemed to be closing in on him, compressing his lungs and shattering his heart as he moved on autopilot to grab the keys on the coffee table.Â
As he reached down, the harsh light of the TV caught his attention and the keys slipped from his fingers. His legs gave out under him and he fell to the floor in the centre of your living room, eyes glued to the TV and unable to look away however hard he tried. He curled himself into a ball on the floor, his breath stolen from his lungs and the rush of blood in his ears muted the sound of the storm raging beyond the walls of his home. Displayed on the TV was the news, the headline in harsh red block letters across the bottom of the screen: âBody of a young woman pulled from Lake Nelson.â
As Gator reached for the remote, unmuting the TV, the twang of a voice that haunted Gator came through the speakers. âA body has been recovered today from Lake Nelson, a young woman around twenty five. Coronerâs observations say that she has been dead for around eighteen hours, and as of currently, we are not treating this as a suspicious death. Unless anyone comes forward with any evidence, we will not be proceeding with further investigation into the nature of her death.âÂ
Gator stares blankly at the TV, feeling everything all at once and somehow nothing at all. His entire life has fallen apart around him, leaving him in the ruins of a home in the eye of the storm. Roy Tillmanâs face is hardened as he continues his report with faux sympathy and the practiced ease that only a killer could master. Gator crumbled further into himself, wrapping his arms around his knees as the sobs came harder now. He could feel the cold and unwavering eyes of his father staring into him from his place on the screen, as though he was speaking directly to him, saying: This is what happens when you go against me. I will break the things you love and leave you with nothing. I will always win.
Suddenly, Gator feels as though heâs five years old again, hiding from his father when he was in a rage. He feels powerless. Useless. Incompetent. Unloved. Through the storm raging outside his window, he could feel his heart shatter and break into a million pieces. And, this time, as the storm battered against the house unwavering, the rumbling of the thunder and the shaking of the house intensifying by the minute, storm growing ever closer, there was no one left to put him back together. Gator was well and truly alone.
He reached up with shaky hands to grab the remote, switching the TV off before launching it as hard as he could at the screen. Shards of glass scattered across the living room floor and the photo above the TV shook and fell off the wall, the glass of its frame cracking and splitting down the middle. Gator couldnât move. He sat alone in the wreckage of your home sobbing for what felt like hours. He couldnât save you. Just as he couldnât save his mother. He was trapped in an unbreakable cycle of grief and loss, and he couldnât break free.
After what felt like an eternity, the storm was beginning to pass, the rain now a slow tapping against glass and the howls of the wind now more like whispers, Gator looked over at the clock on the wall, four in the morning. He placed his hands down on the floor in the shattered glass, unfeeling, as the shards cut deep into his skin, ribbons of red rolling down his wrists, and pushed himself up onto shaky legs. Staring dead ahead, he reached for the smashed photo on the floor, running a finger over the crack down its centre. He pulled it close to his chest and carried himself down the hall to your once shared bedroom.
Pulling back the covers, Gator fell into your bed, curling up on his side, the photo pressed tightly to his chest, wrapping himself in the sheets to feel like you were with him again. The scent of your perfume still clung to the blankets and your shampoo to the pillow. He inhaled deeply trying to feel something, but he felt entirely empty. As though his heart had been ripped out of his chest, as if youâd taken it with you that morning and it stayed tightly in your grasp as you laid cold and unmoving on the edge of the lake. He looked around the room then, your books piled up on the dresser, your pyjamas slung over the back of the chair at your vanity like you didnât know youâd never return to wear them again, your favourite sneakers toed off at the edge of the bed, a wardrobe full of your clothes, a bathroom full of your beauty products, a house full of your love.
When he closed his eyes all he could see was you. Tortured by visions of what must have happened to you, how you screamed for him and he wasnât there. How Roy had hurt you, disposed of you as if you were nothing, when in reality you were everything. His everything.
He woke with a start and laid awake for the rest of the night. The careful patter of the rain against his window as the sun started to rise again, but Gator didnât move, he just laid there with the memories of you and wrapped in your scent, your photo held close to his breaking heart, trying to patch himself back together. He couldnât quite believe that just as quickly as his life was filled with colour, light and love by you, it was ripped away in a second and he felt it all drain from him slowly, drop by drop, in your absence as the gentle rain hit his window.
He hoped that if he wished hard enough, he would wake up from this nightmare with you by his side, tangled together under the sheets as the sunlight bathed you both in its warmth and the storm would be over.
a/n: Well, I hope you enjoyed and I'M REALLY SORRY!! This was also purely self indulgent as I finished all my uni work for the week and fancied doing a bit of writing again. So here it is, in all of its tragic glory.
