#are you guys actually dumb or is this all just an act?

[angeliteeyes]

I promised @cmiru Aven content. And now, I deliver to you

Aventurine x Reader Headcanons

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

- I don't care that Hoyo was dumb and gave him plain ass nails. He 100% loves to get them done, especially if you're also into it. On his own, he's more of a manicure kinda guy, but he's more than down for you to do his if you offer. Even if you're a bit clumsy and the polish gets everywhere, he'll take it in stride. Although, he may have to make sure his gloves are on during business meetings.

- You do NOT have to worry about toxic masculinity with this man. Yeah, sure, he's got plenty of overwhelming insecurities bubbling under the surface, but this isn't one of them. He loves the finer things in life, so why should he limit what pleasures he indulges in? Frankly, it's the least life can give him after the shitshow that was his past.

- You would expect him to win every game you two play together, whether it's a card game, board game, or whatever else—as long as it involves luck. I mean, it's him we're talking about. Yet, after some coercion on his part to get you to play, you actually win? Like not every once in a while, you win more rounds than he even does. If you comment on it or start to boast, he'll just sit there and happily take it. Little do you know that this is what he was hoping for, to see you all happy and excited like this. So really, who's the winner here?

- He laughs a lot when he's nervous. The more nervous he is, the louder it tends to be. It gets especially bad if he ended up blurting out something that he immediately regrets or finds embarrassing, which is a lot once he tries to court you. The end result is shit like this:

"Wow, the sunset's really pretty... like you."

"Huh?"

"HAHAHAHA nothing! Nothing..."

Aven. Please. You're not being as sneaky as you think you are.

- Surprisingly not that forward when it comes to flirting with you? At least, not once he's seriously into you and wants to have a genuine relationship. His mind is eternally stuck in gamble mode, which means that he ends up seeing you yourself as a game of luck. And in turn, he sees all the chances for things to go wrong. Maybe he'll go too fast and make you uneasy around him. Maybe he'll take things too slow and you won't realize just how earnest his feelings are. He's used to making bets, but not like this.

- His saving grace is that he's got socializing as a whole down pat, which he uses to his advantage to learn as much about you as possible. What kind of guys you're into, which ones you're not into, insecurities, pet peeves, and so on. This way, he can get his odds of winning your heart up as much as possible before the final bet of asking you out.

- For how much time he's spent worrying about if you like him back, it really doesn't show when he bites the bullet and confesses. If you take a moment to think about it, you can tell pretty easily how rehearsed and planned out the whole ordeal is though. Every line is as sweet as honey, painfully so, and without a hint of shyness or embarrassment in his voice. Don't let his act fool you. There's a reason why he hasn't made direct eye contact with you this whole time, and why his hands you caught shaking are now surreptitiously hiding behind his back. For his sake, pretend you didn't see anything.

- Once he actually has you as his partner, he has no fucking idea what to do. Of course, he's thought about it a lot. His fantasies of going on dates with you, holding you, etc. have been the one thing getting him through all his boring business meetings, after all. But he was so focused on getting you that having you feels like a far-off notion. His search history may or may not have an embarrassing amount of questions like "how to be a good boyfriend" or "things you should never say to your partner" (gotta be prepared).

- It's not too noticeable unless you're already dating but... the way he thinks of you is a little off, or more accurately, how he thinks YOU think of him. He constantly gets you nice, luxurious gifts, spends plenty of money on you, all the works. Yet it feels like a given when he does, as if there's no other option in his mind. Even if you don't ask for a single thing or even say explicitly you don't want material stuff from him, it's like he can't comprehend it. As if he doesn't believe you'd sincerely like him and stay with him without some sort of transactional benefit. If you reassure him enough or refuse his gifts, you might be able to change this for a little... but don't be surprised when he reverts back to his old ways.

- He thrives off of any sort of positive reactions or general affection from you. It helps a lot to ease the neverending fear he has that you're losing interest in him, and believe me when I say he needs that help to stay sane. He won't say it out loud, but he likes you best when you're clingy or possessive. It means you want him and won't run off with some other guy, right? ......Right?

- On a happier note, he loves saying your name every chance he gets. Specifically in a happy sing-song sort of way. He kinda just likes singing to you in general, whether it's soft, romantic melodies or random, jokey stuff to make you laugh.

Imagine him singing Sweet Caroline. Now imagine him very loudly going

BUM BUM BUM

because he knows you'll find it funny. There you go.

- Also. When he laughs way too hard he snorts like a pig and then goes dead silent from shame. Looks at you like this

Unless you also snort when you laugh, in which case congrats!!! You two can live in a barn together happily <3

[rafeslvbug]

penpal!rafe finding a penpal…

laying on his bed, staring at the ceiling as the effects of his coke had finally begun to wear off, rafe felt the creeping emptiness burrow it’s way back into the hole in his chest.

empty and alone.

again.

carvings in the ceiling plaster, something dumb rose must’ve picked out when she refurbished the house, two people dancing, again, and again. happier than he was. two people who had each other, and who did he have?

topper had run from the party early to seek out sarah, trying his luck with a girl who had no interest in him. the girls he had spent the night crowded by were nothing more than distractions, and to them, he was nothing more than eye candy, something they’d wear to school like their new handbag, and he’d just let them. he’d pay for their fancy shit, and let them drag him around, their annoying whines of “rafeyy, get me this?” drawling off their tongues in a way that made him want to rip his ears off.

turning his head to the side, deflated and reaching a hand out to drag his computer closer to him across the blankets, rafe heaved a sigh. lazy fingers flicking the screen open, illuminating his dark room.

between tweets of the party he just left, and drunken photos, he stumbled across one from this spoilt girl, some messy thing she fumbled to type in her inebriation : ‘d’you guys ever see thsi fucin penpal shit? losers needin frend sonline. couldnt ve me’

rafe squints at the mismatched letters, making sense of the tweet, eyes wandering down to the link she attached, a post intended to ridicule this act of exchanging letters. wanting a laugh, his finger drifts over the keypad to open the link, watching the little ring spin in circles until some website loaded.

FIND A PENPAL!

it read, and he chuckled at nothing at all, the enthusiasm of people determined to find a faceless thing to talk to. “fuck knows what kind of creeps you can get on this shit..” he mumbles, scrolling through the endless profiles after he reluctantly made an account just to see them. he named himself cam, not wanting anyone to find him on this website and become the next topic of mockery, his about me was blank, not risking any attention being brought his way, and partially not bothered to put in so much effort.

martin: 27 years old, australian, would love to hear about different cultures and experiences, considering a big move.

helena: 19, looking to move to england from spain, wants a penpal to learn the language

then..one that caught his eye, a faceless profile, picture of a gingham dress and a ridiculously long ‘about me’ page.

cali: hi! my name’s cali, i would tell you what it’s short for but maybe that’s something you should get to know if you were my penpal! not from anywhere special, just a really boring place, with equally boring people. i’m 19, and think it’d be fun to get to know someone with actual interests - other than the people at my school i see on the daily. would love to talk, and please nothing if you’re way older!

rafe smiles, cali was the type of crap the drunk girl was making fun of, over explaining her life and babbling about how desperate she is to have friends.

then again, she wasn’t.

it struck him in a way he wasn’t familiar with, how she wasn’t alone, necessarily. she just felt bored, felt like other people were being pretentious, and in the worst way he felt he could relate.

it must’ve been that that possessed him to delve further into her profile, the naivety and open mindedness, clumsy like a five year old child willing to trust anyone.

endearing, cute, stupid.

staring at the name, the profile of some dumb, cutesy dress, and the bubbly introduction like he couldn’t bring himself to depart from it. he couldn’t close the laptop, abandon the site, leave some stupid comment on the tweet of that drunk girl as he usually would.

he couldn’t.

her mailbox point was close, daringly close as he delved further into her details, the ones she willingly spread. maybe a ten minute drive from him. he couldn’t just close the tab.

what could he do?

his fingers moved on automation, carefully sliding the mouse over the screen to the button at the bottom of her page :

CHOOSE THIS PENPAL?

click!

notes : ‘cali’ is not her real name! her real name is your name! it’s just a pen name to keep her identity hidden from those who are local (like rafe & the same way he calls himself cam)

taglist: @starkeyjoseph @rafesbabygirlx @slut-4-rafey @lanaslushworld @littlelamy @rain-likes-purple @sunny1616 @csturnioloswifey @silkylovey @mak1777

[noonaishere]

So I had this post in my drafts for a while because I was thinking about this after hearing the "chatgpt uses hyphens too much" thing that went around, and at first I was like, well, why? It's a dumb machine that can't make any choices of its own, only cut-and-paste things together like a child making a collage (but with less understanding than a child). And then I realized... it's doing that because AI companies keep scraping AO3 for free writing data, and fanfic writers overuse em-dashes. Somewhat recently, I was watching a video essay about something to do with Twilight, and it showed an excerpt and I - never having read this book because I was too old for it to seem cool when it came out (like, I had already read some Anne Rice books, what would I want with Mormon vampires?) - saw it for the first time and was like, "WOW, that's a lot of fucking dashes on that page." And this thought I had a LONG time ago finally clicked, which was: "I can always tell which fic writer had read 50 Shades, because they always use the phrase, 'My own personal [guy's name] flavored lollipop', and I always tell who's read a Maas book because they always use 'male' instead of 'man' for no fucking reason. I wonder what the tell for Twilight fans was?" And then I realized that was it.

So I have a sneaking suspicion that hyphens might be the writing version of how AI "art" is starting to poison itself-- so as more AI creations show up in search results, it goes into the AI data set, and it just becomes the AI, like, digesting their own vomit and the art degrades as it happens over and over. That might be why AI fanfic has so many hyphens, it's overprocessed data by a machine that doesn't actually know what it's doing and can't learn.

And it's not just em-dashes, there are quite a few things that chatgpt overuses:

(This pisses me off because I always use *Long, drawn-out description* "And yet..." as a joke. I'm so mad lol.)

I feel like a lot of these things are things I see in fanfic writing, but not published writing, and that is - again - how it ended up in chatgpt's arsenal of things to tack on to sentences to make it seem like a human wrote it.

For writers who feel the need to us AI to "write" for you, please don't, for the same reasons your teachers in school tell you not to cheat: you're hamstringing yourself by creating a situation in which you decide not to get better at something, and then don't have the skills later when you do need them. Here's a video about it!

The part about how chatgpt tends to describe like, the setting way too much, but not how the setting *feels*, if that makes sense? Was interesting. It "writes" like the setting exists, but it's described in a way as if the character who is standing in it isn't actually there? I wonder where they got the data that makes it "write" that way.

And if you use AI because you don't LIKE writing?... don't write. All of writing is the agony of spending hundreds of hours learning and writing (I don't separate them, because I feel like I'm still learning new things at my age, or changing my style which then requires more work and more practice). Writing is the act of writing, it's not waving a wand and getting readers. The sitting in front of a computer screen going "ahhhh" is the writing. If you think that you should get the benefits of having learned writing, but don't want to actually spend the time learning how to write, just stop. Do something you do enjoy.

Anyway: AI "writing" isn't writing. Learn to write on your own.

Ever since I learned the indicators for Ai written stories Tumblr has been ruined for me. You know what I never used to see em dashes that frequently, only normal hyphen of course some people used it but it's not as common since it's not on your keyboard talking about this bad boy btw "—" some call it the Chatgpt hyphen. Suddenly, in the last few months, fan fiction has been full of em dashes out of nowhere, and I mean FULL OF THEM. I just read a Fanfic that had it like every two sentences, and I'm sorry but they were mostly completely unnecessary and put exactly in a way that Chatgpt adds them, instead of a comma, use an em dash. Sure, you can do that, but be real guys, why all of a sudden? Most of us have used the em dash before, but no one goes out of their way to use: Ctrl + Alt + dash or whatever the Mac shortcut is, that often.

I just wanted to read a skz fanfiction and there were (YES I COUNTED ) 34 em dashes in it before I was halfway through... no fucking way.

Also, I see a lack of it in smut, the normal storyline usually has the em dash and then in smut parts you guys switch back to hyphens, cause you know who doesn't write smut? Chatgpt.

Yeah y'all are using Ai.

[herearedragons]

would you mind elaborating on edér's writing in deadfire? i don't recall anything really egregious but im not a Pillars Scholar

I am about to turn into an unskippable cutscene.

so there are four parts to my beef with Deadfire Edér, the first being more nebulous and having to do with his Overall Vibe, the second being the orlan racism (we'll get there), the third being the way him being unromanceable was handled (which tbf largely comes from me being disappointed because I, Personally shipped it, but I do have some gripes with how it was executed from a storytelling standpoint), and the fourth being his companion quest, which I think contains the strongest cases of He Would Not Fucking Say That. (if you just want to know what I referred to in the tags of that post, just skip to the fourth point, titled The Companion Quest.)

Deadfire spoilers from this point on. (also SORRY, this is long, you've enabled this, I'm just going to spell out ALL of my beef here so I no longer have to retype it. this is also very biased on account of me preferring POE1 Edér and my specific reading of his character. if you, the person reading this, got something different from this character and prefer it to my vision, cool! you might get some entertainment out of seeing the hole I dug myself into.)

TL;DR I feel like Edér's Deadfire writing had a change in characterization that I didn't enjoy, and that it drops the ball on things that Pillars Of Eternity and The Reaping (Edér's short story) set up in a way that just makes me feel bad.

The Overall Vibe: this is honestly take-it-or-leave-it, but I feel like Deadfire dumbed him down somewhat? like he has great lines still, there are moments where he's shown to be observant and calls people out on their bullshit, but... idk. I feel like the companion and NPCs treat him with much more scorn specifically related to him bring a Dumb Farmer, and the thing is that... it's kind of presented like they're right? There's a Serafen banter where Serafen kind of says that Edér's a no thoughts head empty kind of guy, which... he's not? Or, at least, that's not the kind of person he's been shown to be in POE1 and in his short story (The Reaping). The vibe I got from pre-Deadfire media was that if anything, Edér is an overthinker, constantly questioning the people around him and himself. He has his blind spots, for sure (orlans.), but he's very concerned with doing the right thing, and he can often offer insights into why people act the way they do. He's critical, and he's empathetic, and... that's just not there in Deadfire, because I guess "Edér is your himbo tank buddy" makes for a better punchline. (<- salty)

and this is me getting REALLY petty, but his Deadfire voice being significantly deeper/more gruff doesn't help matters. like, PLEASE, go listen to the audio of him talking about the farmer and his Hollowborn child in POE1, or him saying ANYTHING at all about Woden. You can hear his voice break. You can hear the sincerity and the uncertainty and the anguish. you don't really get that in Deadfire imo

The Orlan Racism: idk, chat, I agree that the guy is weird about orlans, I wish we had any actual dialogue about that instead of just watching him put his foot in his mouth over and over (we'll GET to the rejection dialogue.), but like I think we could do better than this.

my beef isn't with Edér having prejudices, but with the... general way it's handled? his Hiravias banters are probably my favorite Edér Orlan Racism content across both games, because Edér says a stupid thing, gets yelled at by Hiravias, feels bad about it, tries to backtrack, and backpedals right into another microaggression. But also, there's more to his relationship with Hiravias: they chat about their shared experiences with violence, women and recreational drugs, and it sounds like Edér actually kind of relates to him. Not in a deep way, but in the way that lets them trade stories and go "hey, that happened to me too!". This makes me feel like the orlan microaggressions are something that's baked into Edér's cultural background to the point where (as he says himself) he doesn't understand that it's bad, or why Hiravias would take offense. it's funny, right? or it's a compliment? and he feels bad when he realizes that it's not, because that's not what he was trying to convey.

the Serafen banter could *maybe* be chocked down to the same kind of ignorance, but between that and Edér rejecting an orlan Watcher specifically on the grounds of them being an orlan (which from a Doylist perspective is a LIE, by the way)... idk, it feels like it's veering more into "he doesn't see orlans as the same as other kith", which is kind of not the vibe I got in POE1? and it's kind of played as like, well what can you do, he's just ignorant/prejudiced like that, which... feels bad? considering that the Watcher, potentially his best friend and moral compass, could be an orlan? if he was so prejudiced towards orlans, wouldn't he have not put so much stock into them in the first place? also, might be just me, but combined with the "FARMER /derogatory" of it all it almost feels weirdly classist? like, ah yes, the hick farmer is racist, what can we do. he can't possibly learn or have second thoughts about this. he can't possibly rethink that mindset, nevermind that his entire arc up to this point was about his entire worldview being shattered, he's just so set in his ways, you guys! isn't it funny how awkward he is!

anyway, I've read reddit comments that went "well some people in real life are like this", which, fair! but also, this is a fictional character that serves a purpose, and I don't think that's the best direction to take him in. it's fine if we disagree on this.

The Unromanceability: well, clearly I came out of POE1 an Edér/Watcher shipper, and from the tag dives I've done, I clearly wasn't the only one, and I also wasn't the only one disappointed by what we got in Deadfire (I also understand that companion romances were promised but not which companions, so people went into Deadfire on release fully intending to kiss Edér. and to all those people: I'm So Sorry.)

anyway my thoughts are that him not being romanceable is, like, fine. we could just do a fated besties HawkeVarric situation and whoever wanted to ship it could do it in fic. it would have literally been fine.

what we got was a) the option to confess to Edér and be rejected by him, b) this banter.

let's break it down.

the confession: let me preface this by saying that I know that people have interpreted Edér's rejection as him being aromantic, to which I say, cool! honestly, if I wasn't already deep in the Edér x Watcher romantic trenches I might have picked it up. but it is what it is.

a few things that I have a bone to pick with here.

as I've learned from going through the game's text files, Edér will start his rejection the same way, but will have a different reason for it depending on who the Watcher is. if the Wather is an orlan, he'll claim that back at home orlans and folk "just don't mix" and he hasn't gotten over that; if the Watcher is a man, he'll say that he's not into men and (I KID YOU NOT.) will hit you with an "in another life, maybe" (WILD IN A WORLD WHERE THERE'S REINCARNATION.); if the Watcher is a non-orlan woman, he'll claim that he hasn't really "felt like that" about anyone since Elafa.

so let me get this straight. the orlan and male Watcher lines are basically a lie, right? because he still rejects you if you're NOT an orlan. "maybe in another world" is a lie, because if you're a folk woman, he'll STILL reject you. there IS no universe where he reciprocates. so... why did he SAY that? why did he talk about orlans? WHY did he say "in another life" to a male Watcher, implying that under different circumstances he would have, if he just wouldn't?

I will say that if you read him as aro it works pretty well, because it looks like he's just reaching for the nearest excuse because he doesn't have the words to explain how he really feels about romance. Which is fun. But if that wasn't the intention, then it kind of makes me feel like? he's saying the thing that would hurt the most for this specific kind of Watcher? for some reason?

the thing about him being unromanceable (and here's where the banter is going to come in) is that I just can't figure out how the game wants me to feel about the idea of him and the Watcher being together? does it want me to laugh at it? does it want me to think there's a chance? like, if you want there to be no romance, you just need to not implement it. but knowing that people (including me. I'm people) loved the character in POE1 and came into Deadfire looking forward to romance him, the explicit need to shoot down the idea twice, with someone bringing it up and Edér going "no." is WEIRD. and Tekēhu's "Ngati weeps for such wasted potential" line is WEIRD. it feels like the game is making fun of me for even wanting that to be an option. It doesn't feel good or organic. And if Edér WAS meant to be aromantic, I don't think that's the best way to convey that. It's fine if we don't agree on this.

The Companion Quest: okay, NOW we can talk about Elafa.

The Reaping is a short story by Edér's lead writer, set just before the Eothasian purges started. It gives us a look into what Gilded Vale was like in that time, what the people felt and what it was like to be an Eothasian. It's great, it's freaking sad, I really like it.

In that story, Elafa is a Gilded Vale woman about Edér's age, who he used to hook up with before the war, when they both were younger (so in their teens, I assume). He meets her for the first time after coming back from the Saint's War at a celebration, dances with her, notes how she looks older now. They're still somewhat fond of each other, and he ends up spending the night with her. He then finds out that Elafa has married since he last saw her (I don't remember if we ever learn what happened to the husband), and that she has a child that she's raising alone. Her child is Hollowborn.

I'm going to show you a few passages from The Reaping now.

this is his relationship with Elafa in The Reaping.

fellas, is this what the guy from the above scenes would say about the woman from the above scenes FIRST THING when being asked about her? in front of a stranger? (this is triggered right after recruiting Xoti.)

I don't know. maybe it's just me, but when he finds out that her son is Hollowborn, the FIRST THING he does is voice his support. the second thing he does is try to imagine himself in her shoes. later in the story he kills a man with his bare hands to save her Hollowborn son, she kills another, and they hide the evidence together.

^ he's saying that one TO HER SON. (not the Hollowborn. other son.)

fellas, is this the same people?

(^ being extremely salty)

and then, the other thing about his companion quest is These Lines

chat.... is this Edér? is this Edér "the gods really have it in for you; wish they knew you like I did" Teylecg? is this the guy specifically built up by the narrative to be your ride-or-die? the guy who saw his god crawl out of the earth and instead of doing LITERALLY ANYTHING ELSE hoofed it to where he knew YOU were, to save your life?

please explain to me the purpose behind having him go "hey, you know how I said I care about you? well, I kind of didn't mean that. can we go find that woman I hooked up with and see if her second son is mine?" in the exact way he did. like. POE1 and The Reaping conditoned me to think of him as someone who understands people. who FEELS for them. POE1 and the opening of Deadfire, by virtue of him SAVING MY GODDAMN LIFE, also conditioned me to think he cares about the Watcher. deeply. sincerely. WHY is the narration trying to convince me otherwise? WHY are we throwing out every single part of the character that I originally found appealing? POE1 Edér became my favorite because he was funny, yes, but also because he was insightful; because he was questioning; because you could hear in his voice that this is a guy teetering on his breaking point and still trying to find joy in the world, trying to find something, anything that would help him make sense of things; because he cared about people, and he cared about the Watcher. he trusted you with his past, and you helped him make peace with it. he saw you through the horrors and the creeping insanity of an Awakening, and offered whatever help he could, and felt that he knew you. his world shattered during the Saint's War, and you helped him find his place in the wreckage, where something new may grow. you were with him when he found out the truth about his brother and about Eothas, and decided what it meant to him. that's FUN. that's COMPELLING. that REWROTE MY BRAIN CHEMISTRY.

Deadfire is a great game and Edér has great moments in it. But I have subjective, petty beef with it, and I also have slightly less subjective beef with the way it just chooses not to follow through on things like his relationships with Elafa and Hiravias, reducing these topics to one-liners that deny him both depth and growth, which is WHAT I LIKED ABOUT HIM. I didn't like him because he was a himbo tank. I liked the existential crisis. And we don't even GET a fun existential crisis for him in Deadfire, because it just does "is Eothas.... bad?" again. arguably the "am I a dad?" arc could have been a fun existential crisis, but I just don't like the way it was done - and resolved - at all

so... yeah.

[belit0]

College boy hcs for obito, shisui and itachi pleaseeeeee

This is out of the HS AU and the Mafia AU, different universe,

DIFFERENT UNIVERSE!!!

Obito

Major: Education or Psychology. Not because it was a lifelong dream, but because he had one good professor and suddenly wanted to be that for someone else.

Has zero sense of time. Shows up late, coffee in one hand, charger hanging out of his hoodie pocket like a tail.

Carries emotional support snacks everywhere. If you look remotely upset, he's offering you a half-crushed granola bar from the bottom of his backpack.

Somehow always involved in campus drama even though he tries to stay out of it. “I swear I was just getting some papers and suddenly there was a breakup happening.”

Stares off during class with the kind of intensity that makes you think he’s solving an emotional crisis. He’s actually thinking about whether fish get bored.

Gets crushes like they’re seasonal allergies—but he’s painfully loyal once it’s real. Has a sixth sense for when you’re stressed, but will offer help in the most awkward way possible.

Very warm, very physical. Leans on your shoulder while texting. Hugs like he means it. Has no idea how charming that is.

Shisui

Major: Political Science, minor in Sociology. He runs for every student election and actually wins because people like him.

Speaks well, dresses well, somehow looks good in those dumb free orientation T-shirts.

You’re never sure if he’s flirting or just being nice. Spoiler: it’s both. Always both.

The guy who gets roped into every group project because “he’s reliable.” Secretly resents it but shows up every time with color-coded notes.

Would bring you coffee without you asking and act like it was no big deal. Meanwhile, he’s been memorizing your order since week two.

Is alarmingly perceptive. Will call you out gently for not sleeping enough. Offers to quiz you for an exam and somehow makes it fun.

Never brags about anything, but his name gets dropped a lot. “Shisui helped me pass stats,” “Shisui got our club funding,” “Shisui knows a guy.”

Smiles with his whole face. Shrugs off compliments but gets a little quiet if you really mean it.

Itachi

Major: Philosophy or Literature. People either worship him or are scared of him. Often both.

Speaks in complete sentences. Has a notes app full of existential questions and grocery lists.

Shows up to class early and leaves last. Somehow never makes a sound opening his laptop.

Always looks like he just came back from an all-nighter. He did. But he also read three novels and wrote a paper that’ll ruin the grading curve.

Not on social media. When asked why, he says something cryptic like, “Too loud.”

If you sit next to him, he’ll let you copy his notes but won’t say much. Then you’ll get a book recommendation in your locker the next day.

Makes dry jokes no one catches until three seconds later. Occasionally says something deadpan that has people wheezing.

Surprisingly polite. Opens doors, hands back your pen, thanks the barista. Doesn't make a show of it—just quietly decent.

If he likes you, he won’t flirt. He’ll just... start showing up more. Your favorite café. Your favorite spot in the library. Then maybe one day he’ll say “You seem tired. I brought tea.” and that’s that.

[juliettejwnewinesa]

bro ur smut fics actually make me giggle and kick my feet AUGHHH

i was wondering if you could do a sub beomseok one?? 😇

like yk how he started hanging around his other group of 'friends' near the end of s1 and started acting all cocky and different around others? well like HEAR ME OUT.. what if he was a brat and got put in his place by dom reader...

(and maybe she overstimulates him while riding and gets jealous and like yk does that thing where she makes him say he's hers 🤗...)

im sorry if this request is complicated but like ur writing is literally so fire man 🥹🥹🫶🏻 ILY

TITLE: Fall In Line PAIRING: Sub!Beomseok x Dom!Reader RATING: 🔞 Explicit WORD COUNT: ~5.2k TAGS: Brat!Beomseok, dom!reader, power play, jealousy, overstimulation, riding, marking, possessiveness, brat-taming, praise and degradation, cock-dumbed Beomseok, whimpering, creampie, claiming kink, "say you're mine," soft corruption

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Fall In Line

He’d been acting different lately.

You saw it in the way he walked—like the world owed him something. In the way he laughed louder now, sharper, too showy. And most of all in the way he started hanging around those fake, cocky friends of his—dudes who talked too much, looked too hard, and acted like they owned whatever room they walked into.

And Beomseok? He played along. Played it way too well.

Like he forgot what he sounded like when he was begging you to let him cum. Like he forgot who turned him into a mess behind closed doors. Like he forgot who he belonged to.

So tonight, when he showed up at your door with that same boyish smirk, you didn’t waste time. You let him in. Let him kiss your neck and call you pretty. Let him act smug—just enough to let it boil.

Then you pushed him onto your bed and said, “Strip. Now.”

He blinked like he wasn’t sure he heard you right. So you repeated it, slower.

“Take your clothes off, Beomseok. Or I’ll rip them off myself.”

And just like that—his fake confidence cracked.

You were already on top of him, straddling his hips, grinding slow against the curve of his cock. He was hard—way too fast. His skin flushed, his mouth open, and that stupid little brat smirk was long gone.

“Not so cocky now, huh?” you purred, leaning down until your lips ghosted his ear. “What happened to the tough guy act?”

“I-I didn’t—” he stuttered, hands gripping the sheets because you’d already told him he wasn’t allowed to touch you. “I wasn’t—”

“Don’t lie to me.”

You rolled your hips, slow and cruel, just enough pressure to make him gasp but not enough to give him anything real. He whimpered, eyes squeezing shut.

“Y-You were jealous,” he mumbled. “You saw me with them…”

“And you liked that?” Your nails dragged down his chest, making him shiver. “Liked pretending you weren’t mine?”

He didn’t answer fast enough.

You slapped the inside of his thigh. Not hard. But enough.

“Answer.”

“N-No!” he cried. “I didn’t—I just— I just wanted—"

“What, attention? A little power? Thought you could act like a brat out there and still get off like my good boy in here?”

His face turned red, and his hips bucked without permission. Pathetic.

You smiled. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll remind you how this works.”

He was already dripping by the time you finally let him inside—his cock twitching, tip flushed and wet, the kind of hard that came from desperation, not control.

You sank down on him slow. Torturously slow.

And Beomseok moaned.

Loud. Shameful. The kind of sound that made your jealousy curl even deeper into your gut.

He gripped the sheets like a lifeline. “F-Fuck, you’re s-so—”

“Say it.”

He blinked up at you, dazed. “W-What…?”

You snapped your hips forward, making him cry out. His toes curled.

“Say you’re mine.”

“I-I am—!”

You tightened around him.

“All the way. Say it like you mean it.”

“I’m yours!” he cried, tears starting to prick at the corners of his eyes. “I’m yours, I’m yours, I swear—!”

You grabbed his jaw, forced him to look up at you while you rode him harder now, his cock hitting deep every time your hips slammed down.

“Say it again. Loud. For everyone you were trying to impress.”

“I’M YOURS—!” His voice cracked, a broken moan tangled in the words.

“Damn right,” you growled, and clenched around him just to hear him whimper.

He was close already. Way too close. You could feel it in the way his thighs shook beneath you, in the whine trapped in his throat.

“D-Don’t stop, please—please—”

“Oh, you think I’m letting you cum that fast?” You leaned forward, dragging your hips in tight, dizzying circles. “Not after you’ve been acting like a slut for everyone else’s attention.”

He looked up at you with wide, watery eyes. “I-I wasn’t—!”

“You were.” You ground down, hard. “And now you’re gonna cum again and again until you forget their names.”

He whimpered. “I-I can’t—”

You tightened around him. “You will.”

The first orgasm hit him like a wave. Violent. Shaky. His voice cracked with the moan that tore from his chest as he came deep inside you, hips twitching under you uncontrollably.

But you didn’t stop.

Didn’t even slow down.

He whimpered immediately, trying to squirm, but your hands pinned him down, and you just kept riding him, slick and full.

“Too much, too much—!”

“Too bad.”

You leaned down and bit his neck, hard enough to leave marks. Your tongue soothed the bruise after.

“You wanted to act like a man,” you whispered against his skin. “But you’re just my pretty little toy.”

And then he came again. Just from your voice. Just from being used.

By the third round, he was wrecked.

Tears running down his cheeks. Cock twitching pathetically inside you. The words spilling from his lips barely made sense anymore.

“Y-Yours… only yours, please, n-noona—!”

You smiled, wicked and sweet, dragging your nails down his chest again.

“That’s right, baby. That’s more like it.”

You leaned in and kissed him, tongue slipping into his mouth while you fucked him slow now, deep, rhythmic rolls of your hips that had him shaking.

“Next time you try and play tough in front of your little friends…” You tugged his hair back, watching him pant under you. “Remember how easily I break you.”

[fictionalcreator]

Thought of the line "drunk in Paris" and my brain auto-generated a RokCale fic hear me out

So, we all know that Kim Rok Soo is the absolute king of understating things, yeah? And Cale was deliberately acting like trash to draw attention / make his family look better by comparison / something along those lines, yeah?

So, In a modern AU, Cale (who's probably the son of an old money British noble house in this universe) goes on an expensive trip across Europe, because every trashy rich kid takes a "gap year" to fuck around in Italy or Spain or some such, possibly ending up on the news for something dumb. Perfect Cale territory. By the time he's done, everyone's gonna think his family are saints for putting up with him.

Of course, when he goes to France, classic Wine Country, he has to test his limits (with the best vintages money can buy, of course). Does he actually genuinely get trashed? I say yes because I think he needs at least one pathetic wet dog moment but in the end it's irrelevant because the POINT is that he ends up meeting (and sleeping with) this random guy from Korea who happens to be there on a business trip. Also, random Korean man is hot as hell, to the point where Cale-fucking-Henituse feels jealous, and despite this, this guy seems to think he's not hot?? Because of the scars??? Bitch, please, says Cale, perhaps more out loud than he meant to.

Despite that guy's pecs being sculpted by god himself, in the morning, post-nut, generally more sober, and depressingly alone, Cale still regrets it a little. After all, for everything he does, he's not in the habit of running around breaking hearts, nor does he particularly want to have "he's a slut" appended to his already seedy reputation. Random people looking for fights? He could deal with that. Random people looking for sex? Yeah, no.

(And of course, his distaste for the idea has nothing to do with any silly romantic dreams of waking up next to the same person every day, arms wrapped around each other as you whisper sweet nothings in the other's ear. Pfft—of course not.)

He'll just have to hope that no one saw him sneak off with Mr. Tall Dark and Handsome, and that this guy doesn't tell anyone about it.

Well, Mr. Mystery Hunk did say he was just there for a brief business trip. Cale doesn't have any reason to go to Korea, so they probably won't see each other ever again...

Well, some time later (idk if it would be funnier if it's like, the next day or several years), Cale meets Choi Han and ends up goading him into a fight. Choi Han, of course, hands his ass to him, and Cale gets sent to the hospital.

Only, while Cale's recovering, who else comes to visit but, surprise surprise, Mr. Beefcake himself, who's name is actually Kim Rok Soo (or some kind of pseudonym!). It turns out that Choi Han is Mr. Kim's subordinate? (we're pretending Choi Han was born later than in canon or something roll with it) And it turns out that the "business" that Kim Rok Soo came to Europe for...actually involves Cale?

Well, Cale's mom, at least.

Apparently, there's a secret international group working to sow war, famine, and terror around the world, and to accomplish some unknown objective (world conquest) they're looking for something left behind by one Jour Thames (among other mcguffins [ancient powers], but the org. that KRS belongs to actually managed to track down someone [Cale] who might know where this one is).

Kim Rok Soo is working for another secret organization, who are working to take the villains down. The head of the organization's most powerful and influential Team 1? That is, of course, Kim Rok Soo. (I'm thinking that the head, on paper, would be Eruhaben, since he would be a ridiculously rich old man in this AU)

Mr. Kim himself doesn't appear to regard this as a big deal, making him that much more terrifying of a person to talk to.

What exactly did Jour leave behind? Does magic exist in this AU?? How exactly did Cale get Kim "no thanks" Rok Soo to fuck him??? idk this was as far as my brain got

[doesnotloveyou]

the way other fanfic writers write boys and men tells me a lot of you have never observed men interacting in the wild much less had male friends of your own. he literally wouldn't do that

[caulfect]

y’know. something that gets overlooked often is kate’s video, and the confirmed implications of it.

whether you believe nathan assaulted kate or not, this doesn’t take away from the fact she was canonically sa’d by multiple boys at the vortex club party. there are no names given, but we know this is undoubtedly true due to the video’s existence as well as everyone talking about the contents within said video. we also know that kate was visibly out of it in the video given max’s remarks when she finds it on victoria’s computer, and that passed out girls are a common sight at vortex club parties given the unresponsive student across hayden at the end-of-the-world bash :

regardless of where you stand on nathan’s involvement, it is undoubtedly obvious that kate is a victim of sexual assault. she was drugged and then mauled by a group of boys who could probably tell something was wrong, but just didn’t care enough to check. after all, as victoria puts it, people get wasted all the time … how are they supposed to protect or care for every which one of them? ( excuses! )

lis:1 in general has always handled sexual assault with nuance so rarely found in media. they do not make harsh lines in the sand about what ‘counts’ or not. they do not make a show of brutalizing the women on our screen via borderline fetish content like most do when discussing themes of rape. instead, there are undertones : max in lis:de, for example, treats the dark room like a sexual assault trauma specifically. she also goes through her own victim blaming by harping on how attractive she found jefferson, how much she wanted to marry him … this occurs in her nightmare as well, where max behaves as though she wanted what happened, what jefferson did to her, when we know she didn’t. obviously, max was not raped. she was not kissed or groped. but there is an underlying sexual gratification jefferson gets from framing her -- there are perverted comments whispered in her ear, she’s being posed with her purity being talked about, and she is being photographed in a vulnerable, helpless state. it just paints a picture. max comes out of it well aware that jefferson was into it, into seeing her that way, and he moved her while she was unconscious and took his sick photos and that’s enough for the trauma to settle in the sexual assault category. most people wouldn’t count it as that, but the game itself does. the dark room has always been a heavy handed look into young girls being abused and preyed on by older men. it is not shocking that it’s one big metaphor for sexual abuse as well, especially sexual abuse that is demeaned and invalidated by others, sexual abuse that isn’t believed. cue jefferson’s whole character. a man who is too perfect and beloved to suspect. a man who told kate to her face that she’s just seeking attention and likely enjoyed what happened to her. a man who got away with such remarks.

the newspapers go out of their way to claim there isn’t any evidence of sexual assault among the victims, and i believe that’s because they weren’t assaulted in the only way the public cares to look, which is penetrative sex. i could also see the article lying, as papers do, but i think it paints a more prominent picture of how weird people are about sexual assault victims and how downright demanding they are about what counts, what doesn’t, and what’s okay for victims to do or say about their own experiences. it is all rather disgusting, honestly! and i’ve always been enamored by the more complicated, unpopular takes lis:1 took with that plot. i feel like to harp on sexual trauma that genuinely isn’t confirmed and to then ignore the girls’ actual sexual assault ( jefferson, the vortex club ) does a rather huge disservice to the game’s more interesting themes. to put it plainly, it’s a major simplifying tale of the story.

[elegy-for-the-present]

Guys, I'm going to be honest here for a second. I personally think ranking F1 rpf ships in terms of which is more "valid" / makes the most sense is extremely silly. I don't think any of them are in love with each other in real life (not romantically, at least; some of them are good friends and that's also a valid form of love). Writing fiction is about creativity, about exploring human behavior in a controlled environment, about painting pictures with words and yes, also about having fun. No rpf pairing "makes sense". All of them are made up. A good writer can take any ship and make a compelling story out of it, because fanfiction is not about replicating canon, that would be silly, canon already exists. It's about taking the canon and extrapolating a different version of the story, studying what outcomes would change if we change some of the circumstance in which the canon facts have happened.

[serendark]

.

[lazaruspiss]

wanting your mom to like you is a self imposed hell

[tortoise-teapot]

want to post about long time blorbo roy mustang. do not want to interact with majority of roy enjoyers

[time-was-over]

i feel like i’m dying. like the insides of my soul are sloughing off and im so fucking alooone it’s agonizing

[dollbrbie]

ʚଓ MAKE UP SEX

more for this au ♥︎ ꒰ criminal!sukuna ꒱

“you didn’t need to come get me.”, you sigh, staring out of the window of you ex boyfriend’s car as you face away from him.

“are you kidding?” he scoffs, “you sounded like a mess over the phone.”

you roll your eyes at his comment. you had previously been at the club with your girls, just wanting a fun night out until you found yourself paralytic drunk, and calling your ex boyfriend with slurred words and childish giggles.

it wasn’t long before sukuna was storming into the place, his brows furrowed with concern whilst pulling your by your arm and into his car, forcing you to drink a bottle of water with scolding words.

“are you still drinking your water?”, he asks with a firm tone, side eyeing you.

“yes.”, you mumble, taking a sip of the cold bottle of water which has been sobering you up well enough.

pulling up to your apartment complex, sukuna asks, “what made you call me, anyway? aren’t you the one usually scolding me for that.”

“i dunno.. in the moment i just missed you, i think.”

“you think?” he repeats sarcastically before turning to face you, his attention fully on you, “what are we doing here, hm? we’re exes but we certainly don’t act like it. do you actually miss me or are you just keeping me around until you find the next guy?”

you scoff before replying, “you think i put myself through this just because? obviously i miss you, sukuna. but, how am i meant to feel safe around you with the shit you do?”

“you’ve got marbles for brains if you think i’d let anything happen to you. don’t you get i fucking love you?”

you’re silent for a moment, “even after all this?”

“you for real? especially after all this.”

soon followed your hand grasping onto the steamy windows of sukuna’s car, your pretty moans falling from your parted lips as sukuna bottoms out inside of you with his pelvis colliding with the plush of your ass.

“fuck.. forgot how good this pussy felt, baby.”, he groans, one hand entwined with yours and the other balancing himself in the backseat of his car as he fucks you dumb, admiring your trembling form and your fucked out face.

“tell me y’missed me.”, he demands with a whisper, nibbling on the bottom of your ear and eliciting a whine from you.

“missed you.. so much.”, you cry out as you feel sukuna abuse your g spot, your walls clenching around his cock.

he hisses at the feeling of your walls flutting around him before replying, “yeah? couldn’t stop thinking about you, y’know. you’re all i damn thought about.”

you whimper out his name, feeling your pleasure build up to it’s tipping point as your toes curling and your breaths becoming heavy, desperate for your own orgasm.

“i know, baby. hold out a little f’me, okay? m’ gonna cum soon as well.”, he says, his thumb rubbing small circles on your hand as he buries his face into the side of your neck, continuing to abuse your sweet spot until his cock throbs.

you suddenly feel the electricity of your climax, crying out your ex’s name like a beautiful prayer with your head thrown back and your hand gripping onto his.

“shit- inside or out?”, he asks, his orgasm so close as he feels the consistent clenching of your walls around his throbbing cock.

“in- in- in.”, you chant, desperate to feel his orgasm, to feel him claim and take you as his once more.

and so he does, emptying himself completely inside of your wanting walls, reaching down to kiss your parted lips as he shudders from the overwhelming sensation of his own orgasm.

“fuck, baby..”, he mutters out, his chest heavy as he comes down from his high, looking at your glossy eyes as he traces his thumb against your parted lips, “i’m not letting you leave me again, and i’ll never let anything happen to you.”

“i know.”, you mutter, looking up at the man you love knowing you were his and he was yours.

© dollbrbie | don’t plagiarise or translate any of my work

[urmum-lovesme]

Bunny (P10)

Rafe Cameron x Maybank!Reader

summary: Struggling to keep her and JJ’s home afloat, Y/N turns to the only option that guarantees fast cash- stripping at a club on the Cut. But when Rafe Cameron catches her in the act, he sees the perfect opportunity to tighten his grip around her life.

a/n: Guys- #roadtrip! (this aint no godamn roadtrip.) Lets seeee, this is actually pretty sad but then again bunny and rafe have me in a chokehold. oh and since everyones been dying and sobbing on there knees for it- JJ redemption :)

warnings: mentions of pregancy sickness, anxiety, abortion clinic, an abortion, sad bunny but soft!Rafe

(P1) (P2) (P3) (P4) (P5) (P6) (P7) (P8) (P9) (P10) (P11) (P12) (P13)

The dock was quiet, only the sound of the water lapping against the wooden posts filling the night air. A few dim lights flickered overhead, casting long shadows across the worn planks. Y/N sat perched on a stack of crates nearby, a small bag slung over her shoulder, her fingers gripping the strap absentmindedly. The night air was cool, the wind rolling in off the water and she exhaled slowly, watching the way her breath disappeared into the darkness. Her body felt tense, an anxious energy humming beneath her skin and it wasn’t just the cold keeping her on edge.

The sound of boots against wood made her lift her head, and there he was- Rafe, moving toward her in dark clothing, a baseball cap pulled low over his face. She huffed out a small laugh at the sight.

"You look dumb."

"And you don’t?" 

He countered, raising an eyebrow as he gestured to her own cap lightly before stepping beside her. He took a glance around the dock, assessing, scanning, before finally exhaling and leaning against the crate beside her. She looked out at the water, pulling her jacket tighter around herself.

"Thanks for coming with me,"

She said, voice quieter now, like she wasn’t sure if she should say it. He turned his head toward her, studying her profile for a beat before looking back out at the water.

"Of course."

Rafe watches her from the corner of his eye, the way she stared out toward the oncoming ferry, her face unreadable in the dim light a dark shadow covering half her face due to her cap. He asked, his voice quieter this time, not pushing, just… checking.

“Are you okay?”

She blinked, like she wasn’t expecting the question, like she hadn’t even realized she’d been staring for a few seconds too long. She blinked, small but harsh, then followed it by a forced nod,

“Uh, yeah- let’s go.”

Rafe didn’t quite believe her, but he didn’t push. Instead, he reached out, taking the bag from her shoulder without a word and to her own surprise- she let him- watching as he placed it on the opposing shoulder which had his own bag. She followed after him silently as he stepped onto the ferry nearing the empty entrance. The ticket attendant, a tired-looking man in a navy uniform, scanned their tickets. He glanced at the names printed on the peices of paper and read aloud,

“Mr. and Mrs. Walker?”

Y/N furrowed her brows slightly, eyes flicking to the ticket in the man’s hand before turning to Rafe. Before she could say anything, she felt the warm weight of his hand press lightly against the small of her back as he stepped forward smoothly. “Yeah,” Rafe says with an easy grin.

“Me and my wife are just going for a short trip.”

The man barely spared them a glance, nodding as he handed the tickets back, “All good—enjoy your journey.” They stepped past the checkpoint and as soon as they were out of earshot, Y/N whispered,

“Mr. and Mrs...?”

Rafe couldnt surpress the small grin tugging at his lips, eyes ahead as he lead them toward the deck, “I thought you didn’t want to be recognized...” He murmured, voice dripping with amusement.

“Or should I have put your name down as Bunny?”

She scoffed, rolling her eyes as she elbows him, “Shut up, smart ass.”

Rafe just chuckled, pushing open the door to the ferry’s indoor seating, the cool night air following them inside. Yet as he pushed Y/N hesitated for a moment before speaking,

“...Can we sit outside?”

Rafe paused, furrowing his brows as he looked down at her, “Why would you want to do that? It’s dark as hell out there.”

She huffed, crossing her arms, “I’m pregnant Rafe—I get nauseous all the time. At least outside, I’ve got fresh air.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, studying her like he’s trying to figure out if she’s being truthful or just making an excuse so he does what she wants. After a beat, he exhaled through his nose, shaking his head as he muttered, motioning toward the door that leads to the deck.

“Go on then”

Without hesitation, she pushed through it, stepping out into the crisp night air. A breeze rolled over the ferry, cool and salty, and she breathed it in deeply. She didn’t have to turn around to know Rafe was following right behind her- she could hear his heavy steps. She settled into one of the worn seats, putting her bag he'd passed her on the floor next to her before shifting to get comfortable. The air was cool against her skin, the faint hum of the ferry’s engines vibrating beneath her. Rafe sat down next to her, stretching his legs out and leaning back slightly. He watched her from the corner of his eye, and it didn’t take long for her to notice.

“What?”

She asked, her voice carrying a little edge, like she’s too tired to deal with whatever comment he’s about to make. “Nothing,” he says easily, his lips twitching like he’s holding back a smirk.

“What, can I not look at you?”

“No”

She deadpanned, rolling her eyes before shifting her position, bringing her legs up onto the chair. She folded her arms over her knees, her head resting against them. Rafe eyed her again.

“Are you about to throw up or—?”

“No asshole, I’m just tired”

She muttered, eyes fluttering shut for a moment. He scoffed at her harsh tone of voice before speaking up,

“You know, considering I organized this whole thing for you, you’re not very nice are you?”

She shifted her head, now looking at him, but she didn’t say anything. In reality, she knows he’s right. He didn’t have to do any of this for her. Yet, here he is- booking a ferry, making sure no one recognizes them, sitting beside her in the cold night air without a single complaint. She exhaled softly, pressing her lips together.

Maybe he doesn’t deserve the attitude.

She exhaled through her nose the breath rising in a small clous from the chill of the air, gaze dropping to where her fingers play idly with the hem of her sleeve.

"Sorry"

She muttered, barely above the sound of the wind. Rafe didn't say anything right away. He just hummed in acknowledgment, shifting slightly in his seat, like he hadn't really expected her to say it. The ferry rocked gently beneath them, the rhythmic sound of waves slapping against the hull filling the quiet between them. The water stretched out into an endless black abyss, only interrupted by a gleam of moonlight rippling across its surface. The island behind them grew smaller and smaller, its warm, glowing lights fading into the distance, swallowed by the dark. The silence stretched on, the distant hum of the engine the only sound breaking through the quiet between them. "So... " Rafe shifted, his gaze flicking to her profile before he asked

"What did you tell your brother?"

At first, she didn't answer, the question hanging in the air like a weight. Her fingers tightened around the fabric of her sleeve, her gaze still focused on the dark horizon ahead. After a beat, she finally responded, her voice low, almost like she's trying to convince herself as much as him.

"Told him I had a job interview."

Rafe raised an eyebrow in curiosity, "In Charleston... he believed that?"

She hummed softly in response, offering a casual nod as she lets out a quiet breath,

"Yeah."

Her eyes flickered briefly to him, and then she looked away again, the conversation itself being enough to bring on an ache she didn't want to face. She doesn't push the subject further, her gaze falling to the water, watching the faint ripples dance under the boat’s wake. Rafe caught the shift in her demeanour but chose not to say anything. He leaned back slightly, lost in his own thoughts, as the boat cuts through the black sea, the island now nothing more than a faint memory in the distance. His eyes flicked to her, the question sitting heavy on his tongue. The wind whipped through the air around them, but the tension between them felt more heated than the cold.

"Does he know?"

"What?"

"Does JJ know?"

The question seemed simple but his voice softened. Y/N pressed her lips together, her gaze flicking to the dark horizon- looking anywhere but to him. She hesitated before answering, almost like she was trying to convince herself to tell the truth.

"No... he doesn’t."

Rafe blinked, surprise flickering across his features, but he quickly masked it. He nodded, his fingers drumming gently against the table between them. There was something about her answer that he wasn’t expecting.

"...I thought you two were close."

The words hung between them, and Y/N’s shoulders stiffened at the words. She turned toward him, her eyes narrowing, a little defensive. "Look," she started, her voice edged with frustration,

"I don’t go around asking you about your relationship with Sarah or your lack thereof, so why don't you just drop it?"

Rafe’s jaw tightened, and he flinched slightly like he’d been slapped. The air between them shifted and from the way his hand now lay in a fist against the dark coloured table top, she knew she shouldn't have said what she did. He let it linger, only to let out a short, sharp comment-

"Alright, no need for the fuckin’ attitude."

Y/N clenched her own fists, feeling her temper flare at his words. She had no idea why his comment hit her like that- but deep down she knew it was because it sounded awfully similar to what someone else would always say to her- to the words that lingered in the walls of her home.

"God, you know- I just don’t get you Rafe."

Rafe raised an eyebrow, his arms folding across his chest, "Yeah? Well I’m all ears Bunny."

Y/N shook her head, her voice biting now, "One minute, you’re nice. Actually, not a complete asshole. And the next? You're right back to being your self-entitled kook self."

He scoffed, leaning back slightly, but the words stung. He wasn’t used to people talking to him like that- he knew what people whispered when he walked but, but directly to his face... no one said a thing- especially not someone like Y/N. Yet instead of apologizing, he shot back, crossing his arms even tighter.

"So, what do you want from me huh? Actin' like you're such a saint yourself Maybank"

Y/N scoffed right back at him, pulling her legs up under her. "You just—" she paused, running a frustrated hand over her face.

"..I don’t know you- you’re just confusing. I can’t figure you out."

Rafe stared at her for a moment, trying to gauge her. There was a vulnerability in her words, a softness she was trying to hide behind all the frustration she kept targeting him with. He didn’t respond immediately, his gaze lingering on her, reading her better than she realized. Maybe that was part of the issue- they both knew each other a little too well for their own good. Y/N stood up suddenly, brushing the fabric of her jacket down, her movements quick as she stepped away from him. She didn’t look at Rafe as she moved to stand by the railing, her arms resting on the cool metal as she stared out at the dark expanse of water. The sound of the boat's engine and the subtle slap of the waves against the hull filled the air, but the tension between them still hung thick, unspoken.

Rafe stayed seated, watching her from the corner of his eye. She was illuminated softly by the dim lights of the boat, casting a faint glow across her face, her features softened, but there was still a heaviness to her posture. He felt a pang of guilt deep in his chest, something sharp and uncomfortable. He knew he shouldn’t have pressed her like that, but he couldn’t help it.

For some reason, he always assumed she and JJ were the kind of siblings who shared everything, who didn’t keep secrets. The way she’d been so quick to shield her brother from everything, to keep him from knowing about her pregnancy, caught him off guard. He ran a hand over his jaw, a quiet sigh slipping from his lips. His thoughts drifted—unbidden.

To Sarah.

He hadn’t spoken to her in ages their relationship was... complicated, to say the least. But looking at Y/N now, standing at the edge of the boat with her back to him, he couldn’t help but wonder if that was how she and JJ were now- unable to speak about the things that hurt. The night was growing colder as the boat continued its steady path, the rhythmic hum of the engine almost lulling them into a quiet trance. Y/N shifted in her seat which she had returned to, a soft shiver running through her. The chill in the air seemed to settle in her bones, and without thinking, she muttered,

"I’m going inside. I’m cold."

Her voice was low, almost swallowed by the wind. Rafe, not looking up from his phone hummed in acknowledgment, fingers tapping out a message to Barry who was speaking to him about a new 'supplier'. The noise of his fingers tapping against the phone screen echoed faintly between them, but otherwise, there was nothing more to be said. Y/N didn’t wait for him to reply, standing up with the intention of heading inside. She moved with purpose, but as her foot shifted on the deck, the boat suddenly jolted—a subtle shift in direction that caught her off guard. Her body teetered for a split second before she stumbled, her hand shooting out to catch herself against the railing. It was nothing too dangerous, just the motion of the boat, but in the brief moment of imbalance,

Rafe’s instinct kicked in.

He reach out toward her, his hand halfway in the air before he pulled it back, seeing that she’d already steadied herself. His body froze for a second as he watched her, his gaze lingering on the way her posture straightened again.

Y/N, catching the small flicker of movement from him, glanced over at Rafe, her eyes locking with his for just a moment longer than either of them anticipated. It wasn’t a look of gratitude or acknowledgment- just a silent gaze in his direction, a brief pause that hung between them before she quickly looked away. She said nothing, just turned and continued her walk toward the cabin, moving a little faster now. Rafe stood frozen for a beat, his hand still in the air as though unsure whether to reach out after her. He let his hand drop to his side, watching her retreating figure. The silence around them seemed louder now, the distance between them more palpable than before.

After a moment, he exhaled, a soft sigh escaping his lips, and with a brief glance toward the dark waters, he followed her inside.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The soft hum of the taxi filled the air as it moved through the quiet streets of Charleston, the city’s lights casting long shadows on the pavement. The streets, usually busy with the bustle of tourists, were almost empty at this early hour of the morning. The moon hung high in the sky, its light reflecting off the buildings as they passed. Y/N stared out the window, her face illuminated by the passing streetlights. Her eyes weren’t focused on anything in particular- just the empty streets, the quiet that felt too loud between them. She shifted slightly in the backseat, then broke the silence, her voice barely above a whisper, as if she wasn’t sure she wanted to ask the question.

"When’s the... clinic booked for?"

Her gaze didn’t leave the window, but she was still waiting for his answer, the question just another small part of this strange, tense journey. Rafe’s eyes flicked to her for a moment before he glanced out his own window, his fingers drumming idly on the seat beside him.

"Evening"

He said simply, his voice low, he didn’t look back at her after that, the words hanging between them with an unspoken understanding. She nodded softly, her gaze still fixed on the darkness outside, her eyes slightly glazed as she thought about what was ahead. The clock on the taxi’s dashboard blinked a bright 3:13 AM, the streets were empty.

The taxi slows to a stop in front of a hotel, the headlights casting a long, soft shadow across the dark pavement. The building isn’t the most luxurious from the outside, but to Y/N, it’s the fanciest place she’d ever set foot in. As she steps out of the cab, she hesitates for a second, looking up at the hotel’s grand but understated exterior. The soft glow of lights spill from the inside, and the hum of quiet conversations can be heard from within.

Rafe’s already out, paying the driver. Y/N adjusts the small bag slung over her shoulder as she follows him inside, her footsteps echoing as they step through the double glass doors.

The lobby is elegantly designed—modern. There are soft armchairs scattered throughout the space, a sleek chandelier hanging overhead, and the hum of quiet conversations. It feels foreign to her, like she doesn’t belong here. Rafe heads up to the reception desk without a second glance, but Y/N, lost in her thoughts, lingers by the lobby’s wide glass windows, gazing out at the city streets. The street is still, save for a few scattered cars driving by.

Her attention is pulled back into the room when she notices a man sitting in one of the armchairs, talking animatedly on his phone. His voice is low, his hand gesturing as he speaks. Sitting beside him, though, is a woman who looks to be in her early thirties, her hair pulled back in a neat bun, dressed simply but elegantly. Y/N’s eyes are drawn to the curve of her belly. The woman’s hand rests gently there, a soft and loving gesture, cradling the life growing inside her. The man finishes his call and puts the phone down, settling next to her with a smile. His words are muffled, but Y/N can tell by the way he’s looking at her- so tenderly- that he’s saying something reassuring. She presses a kiss to his cheek, the act so natural and intimate, and his hand moves automatically to rest on her belly, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world.

Y/N’s heart tightens as she watches them, her breath catching in her throat. For a moment, the world around her seems to blur as she’s struck with the emptiness that threatens to overwhelm her. She feels a sting of jealousy- sharp and uncomfortable- but it’s not jealousy of them, not really. It’s jealousy of their simplicity. The way they seem to have it all figured out. Rafe returns to her side, his steps sure as he walks toward her. His eyes quickly flick over to where hers are fixed, but he doesn't need to follow her gaze to know what she's looking at. He doesn’t say anything at first- just watches her for a second longer before clearing his throat. The sound is like a small signal to break the tension hanging in the air.

“I’ve got the key card”

He says, his tone neutral, trying to sound casual but his voice sounds more empathetic than he'd like to let on. Y/N doesn’t respond immediately, she only gives a short nod, her mind still caught on the sight of the couple in the lobby. She blinks a few times, pushing down the emotions threatening to flood her again.

“C’mon”

He says again, stepping toward the elevator. It’s easy to just follow his lead, so she falls in line behind him, her footsteps light as she walks into the lift with him. The doors shut with a soft chime, and the silence between them is thick with the unspoken, and neither of them seems willing to break it. Y/N catches a glimpse of Rafe from the corner of her eye. He’s standing a little too still, his jaw tight, but then he shifts slightly, a sudden yawn catching him off guard.

It’s a soft sound.

She watches him for a moment, then quickly looks away, guilt swirling in her stomach. She feels bad. It’s hard to ignore the fact that she’s dragged him off the island for something she hasn’t even fully explained, and it doesn’t help that she’s been distant with him. He doesn’t owe her this, and yet, here he is. He’s sacrificed his time, his peace, to follow through with something she needed.

Something she couldn’t even handle on her own.

Her chest tightens, but she doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t even know how to apologize properly. The doors to the elevator ding, and Y/N shakes herself out of the fog in her head as the doors slide open. She steps out, trailing behind him down the corridor, the low hum of the building’s air conditioning the only sound between them. Her thoughts continue to swirl in a haze, and she follows Rafe wordlessly, her gaze flickering over the brightly lit walls and the muted carpeting underfoot. The beep of the card unlocks the hotel room, the handle clicking softly as Rafe steps forward to push the door open. He enters first, his eyes scanning the room for a moment before pausing just inside the threshold. He’s holding the door open, his back to her, but he doesn’t move forward immediately. Y/N stays a step behind, and she tilts her head slightly, a mix of curiosity and hesitation in her posture.

“What?”

She asks quietly, her voice sounding smaller than she intends. She doesn’t know why she’s asking. Maybe it’s just the lingering unease she feels with the way he's paused, or maybe it’s just the awkwardness of being here with him.

Alone.

In a hotel room.

Rafe doesn’t answer right away. Instead, his eyes flick to her, briefly meeting her gaze, then turning to the room as if weighing how to explain this. Y/N, now more aware of the pause, steps forward and brushes past him to peer into the room, her eyes scanning the space. The moment her gaze lands on the large, neatly made bed in the center of the room, her stomach drops. She takes a slow step back, blinking.

One bed.

Of course.

Her mouth opens as she exhales a soft, surprised “Oh,” almost as if she’s disappointed in herself for not anticipating this. The reality of the situation sinks in quickly, the silent weight of the choice she’s facing now becoming apparent. She glances back at Rafe, her eyes narrowing slightly. He stands frozen for a second, looking at the bed, then at her and his expression shifts into something more neutral—calm, but there’s a flicker of something else beneath. His gaze lingers on her for a second too long, the tension thick in the air between them. Rafe, standing just behind her now, clears his throat and shrugs.

“There was meant to be two singles...”

His voice is more earnest than she expects, but the tension is still thick. His gaze flickers to the bed and back to her.

“Guess they messed up with the booking.”

“Right”

She mutters and rolls her eyes, feeling that old frustration bubbling up again. She hears him shift behind her, and the tone of his voice softens slightly.

“No, seriously, I booked two beds Y/N.” he pauses, then sighs. “They messed up. Besides... not like I’m used to dealing with rooms for more than one.”

His voice is quieter now, maybe even a little... sheepish?

Y/N’s shoulders stiffen, and she tries not to think too much about it. She shouldn’t be frustrated, not really. He did try. It wasn’t his fault, but- she just nods, not trusting herself to speak, her eyes still locked on the bed as the weight of the situation settles in. It feels too personal, too uncomfortable, but she forces herself to exhale and shake it off. She half-turns to face him, her voice a little sharper than she intends.

“Great... so, what now?”

Y/N takes a few steps further into the room, her eyes scanning the rest of the space. It’s huge, definitely bigger than anything she’s used to, with a bathroom off to the side that looks like it could fit a small army. She almost feels out of place in the luxury of it all. Her fingers brush the smooth edge of the desk, the furniture pristine, and she can’t help but feel a little self-conscious. As she moves toward the far side of the room, her gaze lands on the couch. It’s medium-sized, tucked neatly against the wall near the bed. Her eyes linger there for a moment. She hears Rafe step closer behind her, his heavy footsteps echoing slightly in the quiet room. He follows her gaze, then looks back at her.

“I’ll sleep on the couch”

He says, and Y/N pauses, slightly skeptical. She turns to face him, a little incredulous.

“What?”

Rafe’s hand rubs the back of his neck, his posture a little stiff. “I mean, it’s fine... you’re pregnant and I’d rather not—” He cuts himself off, realizing that the sentence sounds ridiculous.

“I’ll take the couch.”

She doesn’t want to seem ungrateful, but she can’t help but bristle at the idea. “It’s fine,” she starts, shrugging it off, “I can take the couch.”

Rafe’s expression tightens, his eyes narrowing slightly in disbelief. “No. You’re not sleeping on the couch.” His tone is firm but not unkind.

“We’re not doing that.”

Y/N opens her mouth to protest, but then she catches the look in his eyes. Something about the way he’s saying it, the way he stands there, not pushing but still resolute. She presses her lips together, swallowing her own stubbornness.

“Fine”

She mutters, walking toward the bed and sitting down on the edge. He gives her a half-smile, nodding. He pauses for a second, his gaze flickering over her, before he heads over to the couch, testing the cushions.

“I'm sorry abou-”

"-It's fine Rafe."

She shoots him a side-eye, still a little uneasy but also strangely grateful that he’s not making her sleep in the same bed. The night passed in an odd kind of quiet. Y/N had turned away from the sofa, curling into herself under the blanket, her back to Rafe. He, on the other hand, lay awake for a while, his eyes tracing the outline of her figure in the dim light, the soft rise and fall of her breathing making him feel strangely protective- though he wouldn’t admit it. Eventually, sleep claimed them both, though neither one of them seemed to rest all that peacefully.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Morning came slowly, the bright sunlight spilling through the blinds, casting a soft glow across the room. Y/N woke first, rubbing her eyes before slipping out of bed quietly, trying not to disturb Rafe. He was still asleep on the couch, his body turned slightly, his arm thrown across his forehead. She grabbed a quick shower, dressed in the clothes she’d brought, and then made her way downstairs as he stirred from his sleep.

The small café downstairs was cozy, a little more upscale than the usual diner, but not so fancy it felt out of place. She and Rafe sat down at a table near the window. Y/N absently pushed her pancake around on the plate, the syrup drizzling down the soft stack of pancakes in front of her. Rafe had ordered eggs, bacon, and toast, and his plate was practically a mountain compared to her much smaller serving. Rafe looked at her plate,

“There was so much on that menu, and you got pancakes?”

Y/N shot him a small glare, her fork poking at her pancakes. “You’re one to talk. Look at your own plate.”

She rolled her eyes, the usual defiance in her tone. Rafe couldn’t help the small, amused grin that tugged at his lips. It was impossible to not appreciate her sass, even if it was often sharp-edged. He shook his head, stabbing into his food. They ate in silence for a few moments, the air between them comfortable. Y/N pushed a cut pancake around her plate, her mind clearly elsewhere.

“...When I was younger,” she started quietly, not looking up from her plate, “my dad used to make me and JJ pancakes for breakfast every Sunday.”

Rafe, who’d been about to take another bite, paused. He studied her for a moment, his gaze flicking from her to the food, but he didn’t say anything. Y/N continued, her voice softer now.

“He hasn’t done that for years.”

His eyes softened a little, the layers of tension between them briefly melting away as he processed her words. He didn’t know how to respond to her suddenly opening up, so he just stayed silent, watching her as she cut into her pancake. For a second, he wished he could ease her melancholy, the way her voice had faltered just a little when she’d spoken of her father. Y/N looked up at him then, catching the brief flicker of empathy in his eyes, before she quickly glanced back down at her plate, focusing on her food. Neither of them said anything for a while, and the quiet lingered between them. Rafe cleared his throat after a beat, as though considering whether to share what was on his mind. He looked down at his plate, pushing some bacon around before speaking again, his voice quieter now.

"My dad used to… uh…" He paused, as if trying to find the right words, "used to say that a growing man needs a filling breakfast, so ever since then, if I have breakfast, I have this."

He motioned vaguely to his plate of eggs and bacon. Y/N, in the middle of cutting up her pancakes, glanced up at him, her eyes taking him in, trying to process his words. It was strange to hear him speak so casually about his father- considering everything she knew from Sarah about the difficulty of their relationship. She hummed in acknowledgement, a simple gesture before she spoke up again, a question lingering on her tongue.

“Aren’t you bored of it?”

He didn’t answer right away, chewing a bite of his food, his eyes never leaving her face.

“Some things you don’t get bored of.”

Her fork paused midair, and for a second, she just studied him. She gave a small, almost imperceptible nod of understanding before looking back down at her plate, cutting up another piece of pancake. But his eyes stayed on her, the weight of his gaze just enough to make her feel like he was reading her again. She didn’t look back at him, though- her mind was too busy running through the conversation, the way his words felt like an opening, even if just a crack.

Y/N sets down her fork, her plate now empty, and picked up the warm cup of tea in front of her, holding it between both hands. She takes a slow sip, letting the warmth spread through her as she looks out the window, her gaze distant. Rafe, still focused on his food, catches her pause out of the corner of his eye, sensing a change in her demeanor. He swallows a bite and glances at her, then back at his plate.

"How far away is the clinic?"

She asks quietly, her voice slightly less steady than usual. She’s trying to keep it calm, but there’s a subtle weight to her words, as though she’s still sorting through the emotions building up inside. Rafe chews for a moment before answering, his tone straightforward but gentle.

"It’s not far, maybe a 30-minute drive. Shouldn’t be too bad."

He doesn’t press her for a response, letting her take the lead in how much she wants to engage with him. She nods slowly, but her eyes remain unfocused, drifting out the nearby window as her thoughts spiral. She feels a tight knot forming in her stomach. The decision she’s made, the steps she’s about to take—they all feel heavier now, so much more real than ever before. The thought of the procedure is enough to make her feel a little sick, though she doesn’t want to admit it out loud. It’s all she’s been thinking about since they left the island, but now that they’re so close, it’s almost suffocating. Y/N’s fingers wrap more firmly around her cup as she stares out the window again, but there’s a slight unease in her posture now. After a moment of contemplation, she breaks the silence with a soft, almost tentative voice.

"Do I... do I have to give my name or...?"

Her voice trails off, unsure, as though she’s not even sure she wants to know the answer. Rafe, sensing her hesitation, quickly cuts her off, shaking his head. "No," he says, his tone firm but gentle.

"It's anonymous. You don't have to. They won't even know who you are."

Y/N's eyes flicker to him, and she exhales a quiet breath of relief. "Right," she mutters, her fingers tightening around the cup again.

The idea that it could be so impersonal, that no one would know her, seems to bring her some comfort, though she doesn’t show much outward emotion. The thought of keeping it all anonymous, of having no strings attached, gives her a strange sense of control over something that’s felt so out of her hands.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The hours leading up to the appointment felt like they were dragging, each minute stretching on, yet it was as if time was slipping by too fast at the same time. Y/N had spent most of the day trying not to think about what was coming, but now, as she stood outside the clinic, she couldn’t stop her mind from racing. Her heart was pounding, her stomach tied in knots, but she didn’t have the strength to back out now. Rafe walked ahead, pushing the door open for her, and she stepped inside, the sterile, clinical air hitting her as soon as she crossed the threshold. The waiting room was eerily quiet, the kind of silence that made her skin prickle. It was empty, except for one woman in her mid-thirties, flipping through a magazine, and the receptionist sitting behind the desk, typing away. "Go sit down," Rafe murmured softly, his tone steady as he gestured to the row of empty chairs against the wall,

"I'll get the papers you need to fill in."

She didn’t have to be told twice. Her legs felt like jello, and she made her way to an empty seat, trying not to let her nerves show. The walls of the room were a bland gray, making everything feel dull and lifeless. The fluorescent lights above hummed quietly, and there was a small window in the ceiling letting in the dim light from the dark sky. Y/N's eyes drifted to the woman sitting across the room. The woman glanced up from her magazine and caught her gaze, offering a kind, understanding smile. Y/N hesitated for just a second but returned a small, tight-lipped smile in return. The woman nodded in acknowledgment before looking back down at her magazine and Y/N took a deep breath, trying to steady her thoughts. A moment later, Rafe returned, clipboard in hand, and sat beside her.

"Here"

He said, passing it to her with a soft smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. She nodded, taking the clipboard from him. She looked down at the forms, at the boxes she’d need to fill in, the questions that seemed to stare up at her, expecting answers. Her grip tightened around the pen as she brought it to the paper, but the tremble in her hand was almost impossible to ignore. She bit her lip and tried to steady herself, but it was no use. Her hand wouldn’t stop shaking, and she could feel the hot sting of tears threatening to fall, though she desperately fought to keep them in check. Rafe noticed immediately, his eyes narrowing with concern. He sat closer, his hand lightly resting on her hand for a moment before he gently took the clipboard from she had grasped in it.

"Let me do it," he said quietly, his voice soft but insistent.

"I’ll fill it in for you."

Y/N opened her mouth to protest, but the words got stuck in her throat. She muttered, feeling embarrassed, but she couldn’t seem to help it,

"But… you might not know..."

Rafe looked at her, his expression unwavering but gentle,"Then you tell me," he replied, his voice calm,

"and I’ll write it down alright?"

Y/N stared at him for a beat, her heart doing something strange in her chest, something like relief mixed with disbelief. She could feel the weight of his kindness, and for a moment, it almost made her want to cry more. But instead, she simply nodded, her throat tight.

"Okay"

She whispered, taking a steadying breath. She started telling him the details- any medical allergies, then other information like her date of birth- which he reassured wasn't necessary if she didn't want it there. Rafe wrote it all down, his handwriting neat and precise, his hand steady despite her trembling voice. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him directly, but the warmth of his presence beside her was oddly grounding, even though it didn't make her fear go away. The woman who had been reading the magazine had gone in, and the receptionist was somewhere out of sight, probably dealing with paperwork or something in the back.

It left just Rafe and Y/N sitting together in quiet.

Y/N sat forward slightly, her hands laid pressed under her thighs, her fingers digging into the chair. She couldn’t bring herself to look up. Her eyes stayed focused on her shoes, her mind racing, all the thoughts running in every direction. Rafe, stayed sitting beside her, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. His jaw was tense, his brow furrowed slightly, and despite the calm exterior. Then, out of nowhere, Y/N broke the silence.

"Rafe, I’m scared."

Her voice was soft, barely above a whisper, but it hit him hard. He was taken aback, not expecting her to admit it. He had seen her put up walls, but hearing her say those words made something tighten in his chest. He turned to her, trying to offer some kind of comfort, even if he wasn’t sure how to give it.

“Hey- it's okay...”

He said, his voice quiet but earnest. But she wasn’t reassured, her teeth caught her bottom lip, and she bounced her leg nervously, her eyes still downcast. Her voice cracked slightly, and she swallowed hard.

“What if something goes wrong, and—”

"Y/N—this is the best clinic in Charleston, alright? I promise."

Rafe shook his head in a reassuring gesture. Her eyes flickered up to him for a moment, but she quickly dropped her gaze again, her voice barely audible when she spoke again.

“I—but what if something happens?”

"Maybank" he said, his voice firm yet gentle, as if trying to anchor her in the moment.

“Nothing is going to happen, okay? You’re gonna go in there, they’ll do the procedure, it'll take 15 minutes and then you’ll be out. I’ll be right here waiting for you."

She let out a breath she’d been holding in, almost like a tiny surrender, but still, her hands were clenched under her thighs, her shoulders tense. Rafe could see her trying to hold it together, but the vulnerability in her eyes was there, clear and raw. Her hands moved then, resting on top of her thighs, and then, as if she couldn’t hold it in anymore, one hand came up to cover her mouth, the other rubbing her face in frustration. She mumbled,

“I’m so scared.”

The words hit him like a punch, torturous, he felt it deep down, the weight of her fear, and it gutted him in a way he didn’t expect. She was trusting him enough to let this fear out, and it made him feel an overwhelming pressure in his chest. For a moment, he hesitated. He didn’t know what to do, what would help her calm down. But then, without thinking, he reached out, his hand resting gently over hers, the one still resting on her thigh. Her eyes flickered down to where his hand met hers, and for just a second, their gazes met- her eyes searching his, full of uncertainty, and something else.

Something almost... vulnerable.

"I’m going to be waiting here for you the whole time," he said softly, his voice steady but carrying a quiet reassurance.

"I’m not going anywhere."

Y/N’s chest rose and fell with a deep breath as she processed his words, her bottom lip trembling slightly. Then, slowly, she moved her hand so it was now holding his, her fingers slipping between his as she squeezed gently. He felt her hand in his, felt her trust in that simple gesture, and his thumb instinctively began rubbing soothing circles on the back of her hand. Neither of them said anything more. The silence between them wasn’t oppressive now; it felt almost comforting, as if the simple connection of their hands could steady them.

The quiet of the waiting room was broken by the soft click of a nearby door opening. An older woman in a crisp white doctor’s coat stepped out, glancing around the space before her eyes landed on Y/N. Her face softened immediately, smile warm and gentle as she called out,

“We’re ready for you now sweetheart.”

Y/N let out a shaky breath, so subtle it could’ve been missed if Rafe wasn’t watching her so closely. She straightened a little, gathering herself. Her fingers slowly, reluctantly, slipped from his, and Rafe let her go, though his hand lingered in place for just a second longer like it didn’t want to lose the contact.

“You’ll be fine”

He said quietly, his voice steady. She nodded- small, but firm- and stood up. Rafe watched as she walked toward the woman, her steps light, almost unsure. The doctor opened the door beside her and stepped inside, holding it open behind her. Y/N followed, before she paused in the doorway.

She looked back.

Her eyes found Rafe's, and for a moment, the world seemed to still. He met her gaze from where he sat, arms still crossed over his chest, jaw tight, but his eyes—his eyes soft blue eyes watching her like he didn’t want her to go in there alone- like he wanted to be there right beside her, holding her hand.

And then the door closed behind her.

Rafe exhaled slowly through his nose, the weight of the silence hitting him all over again. He hadn’t even noticed how hard his heart was beating until now. His hand twitched once on his leg, like it still remembered the feeling of her fingers in his.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The room was quiet.

Still

Only the faint sound of a random film playing on the TV filled the silence- a movie neither of them was really watching. Y/N sat curled up on the bed, knees pulled tight to her chest, her arms looped around them as her eyes stayed fixed on the screen like it was holding her in place.

She hadn’t said a word since the procedure.

Not in the car.

Not during the walk back up to the room.

Not once.

Rafe sat on the couch for a while, watching her more than the movie, caught somewhere between giving her space and wanting to do something, anything, to make this less heavy. Eventually, he stood up, quiet steps carrying him to the small desk tucked in the corner of the hotel room. He picked up the room service menu lying there, flipping it open. He glanced over at her again—still quiet, still curled up, like if she moved too much, she might fall apart and he walked back over and perched on the edge of the bed, not too close, careful with her space. Gently, he set the menu down beside her.

“You should eat something,”

He said, voice low, her eyes dropped to the menu for a second, but she didn’t reach for it. Then she turned to look at him, but he was already watching her. She gave a small shake of her head, still not speaking. Rafe sighed, running a hand down his jaw, rough with tension. “Maybank…” he tried again, softer this time.

“You gotta eat.”

Nothing, she didn’t move, didn’t speak. Just stared ahead at the TV like she wasn’t really in the room at all. “Alright,” he muttered, half to himself, picking up the menu again.

“Let’s see…”

He started listing, casual but careful, “Mozzarella sticks... caesar salad... bbq wings... mac and cheese.... tomato soup with grilled cheese....? Sliders? Pasta? Uh- spaghetti with truffle and mushroom? No..? Alright, club sandwich... chicken tenders... fries…?”

Her head shifted slightly.

Just enough to catch his attention and make his eyes flick over, catching the way hers had finally lifted, just the tiniest bit of reaction. “Fries?” he asked, tone light but a little hopeful.

“You want fries?”

She didn’t speak, but after a beat, gave him the smallest nod. It wasn’t much, barely anything- but it was something to Rafe. That was enough to make a small, quiet smile tug at the corner of his lips. “Alright” he said softly, already reaching for the hotel phone to place the order, his eyes lingering on her just a second longer.

He crossed the room in a few slow strides, grabbing the hotel phone off the receiver with one hand while flipping open the room service menu with the other. His thumb hovered briefly over the order as he pressed the button for the front desk. When the soft voice of the receptionist answered, he ordered simply- just the fries, nothing else. His voice was steady, careful, like he didn’t want to disturb the fragile quiet that had settled over the room. As he hung up, the faint mechanical buzz of the line disconnecting filled the space for a second, then faded. The silence returned but this time, it was broken—softly,

“Thank you”

Y/N said, her voice barely above a whisper. Rafe blinked and turned around slowly, surprised. She hadn’t spoken since she’d walked out of the clinic, hadn’t looked at him much either. And now, her voice was small—tired in a way that made something twist in his chest. He offered a quiet nod.

“It’s fine.”

He didn’t say anything else, just turned to go back to the sofa where he’d been keeping his distance since they got back. He didn’t want to crowd her, not after he'd just managed to get her to ease open. But just as he reached the edge of the bed, her voice stopped him again “You, um…” she said, hesitating, chewing at her bottom lip.

“You can sit here- if you like...”

He looked over at her slowly. She was still curled up near the pillows, knees hugged to her chest, the hotel duvet tangled loosely around her legs. She wasn’t quite looking at him- her eyes were flickering toward the television instead- but her fingers were nervously fidgeting in her lap.

“You sure about that?”

He asked gently, his voice softer now, the usual sharpness dulled by caution. She nodded, the motion small but certain. “Yeah,” she murmured, her voice slightly more sure this time.

“I’m sure.”

He hesitated only a second more before moving- careful and quiet, almost like if he made too much noise the moment might break apart. He rounded the bed and eased himself down beside her on the opposite side, lowering slowly until his back rested against the padded headboard. He kept a respectful distance, just enough to give her space but not so far that she felt alone. The curtains were drawn tight, muffling the city beyond, and the quiet hum of the air conditioner blended with the low volume of the movie.

Y/N sat propped against the pillows now, the bowl of fries resting on her lap. She was picking at them slowly, not ravenous, just nibbling. The taste of them felt grounding, something familiar in all the strange quiet of the day. Beside her, Rafe sat with his arms crossed over his chest, head tipped back against the headboard, eyes half-lidded as he watched the television. His expression was unreadable- tired maybe, the pale light of the screen moved across his face, catching the curve of his jaw and the furrow between his brows.

She glanced at him for a moment, then looked down at the bowl in her hands. Without a word, she nudged it a little toward him- silent but clear in her offering. Rafe’s eyes slid down to the bowl, then back up to her. He gave a faint shake of his head.

“I’m good, Maybank.”

“Have some,”

She tilted her head slightly, not pressing, just… encouraging as she said quietly. He looked at her again, her face soft in the dim light. There was a gentleness in her voice that tugged at something in his chest.

“They’re really good,”

She added, as if that might tip the scales.

And it did.

Rafe gave a small, defeated nod and reached into the bowl, pulling out a fry. He took a bite, crunching into it—and he had to agree it was perfect. Crisp, golden, just the right amount of salt. He gave a quiet little amused breath through his nose, the corner of his mouth lifting into a small smile.

“That’s pretty damn good”

He admitted and Y/N let out a breath that was almost a laugh, her lips curving into a small smile- soft, genuine. It was the first real one all day. She spoke, nudging the bowl toward him again.

“Have another”

He didn’t argue this time. He reached in and grabbed another fry, and then another after that because it seemed to satisfy her- make her happy. She shifted a little, adjusting the bowl so it sat between them now, and in doing so, she edged closer to him—just enough that their arms were nearly brushing. The bowl sat empty now, discarded somewhere by their feet, but Y/N hadn’t moved. She was still tucked in beside him, her side pressed into his, arms brushing with every breath, every subtle shift. The silence was back—but it wasn’t the heavy kind from earlier. It was different now, calmer.

A little softer around the edges.

Rafe hadn’t shifted either. His arms were no longer crossed, his hands resting on his stomach now as he leaned against the headboard, legs stretched out in front of him. He could feel the warmth of her against him, not overwhelming—just there.

Solid.

Y/N's knees were still drawn up, but her shoulders had eased, the tension from earlier leaking out of her bit by bit. Her cheek was tilted slightly toward him, not quite resting, but close enough that if she leaned an inch more, she could. The TV kept playing, casting dull light across the room, neither of them really paying attention to it. Rafe shifted just slightly, glancing down at the point where their arms touched, then at her profile. The flicker of the screen light danced along her skin, catching on the curve of her cheek, the arch of her nose.

Rafe’s throat felt dry, like he hadn’t swallowed in hours. He blinked, but his gaze didn’t shift.

Not from her.

Not from the way the soft hotel light picked up on her lashes or the way the curve of her lips- soft and slightly parted- seemed impossibly delicate. Y/N sensed it, felt his eyes on her. She turned her head slightly, brows pulling together gently. She asked, her voice soft, barely above a whisper.

“What?”

“Hm?”

He blinked again, slower this time. She tilted her head, a small crease forming between her brows as she brought a hand up to swipe lightly across her cheek.

“Is there something on my face?”

Rafe’s eyes followed her hand, the slow sweep of her fingers against her skin. He shook his head quickly—too quickly maybe—and leaned back against the headboard again. “No,” he said, his voice low, the edge of it a little hoarse.

“No there isn’t.”

Her hand fell away as she looked at him. Really looked. The space between them felt warm, heavier somehow than it had a second ago. The TV was still going, but the sound barely reached them anymore. Her eyes stayed on his, searching his expression like she wasn’t sure what she was seeing there.

Neither of them looked away.

Her gaze dipped- just briefly- to his lips and then in return his eyes did the same, flickering down to hers. His tongue slipped over his bottom lip dampening it slightly and the moment stretched, thick with something unsaid, something almost fragile.

The moment shattered with the sharp buzz of her phone against the bedside table. Y/N blinked, her gaze finally dragging from Rafe’s- like coming up for air- and she turned toward the sound coming from the bed side table, phone screen lighting up the darkened corner of the room.

JJ

She stared at the name for a second too long, her stomach twisting. He didn’t know where she was, as far as JJ was concerned, she was in Charleston chasing a job offer. She picked it up, pressed the screen to answer, and forced her voice to be steady.

“Hey, Jay… everything okay?”

There was a pause on the other end, the background sound fuzzy like he was outside before his voice came through, rough but familiar.

“Uh… yeah- yeah. I’m cool. Just… wondering how your interview went.”

Her brows pulled slightly together in surprise.

“Oh. Uh—it was okay. Yeah. Went fine.”

There was a soft hum from him in response and then silence. She shifted on the bed turning away from Rafe who was now looking at her somewhat curiously, especially since he noticed the tension in her shoulders tightening. She asked, the edge of concern pushing through.

“You sure everything’s okay?”

“Yeah, I’m at the Chateau,” he answered, “It’s… chill here.”

“That’s good,” she said quietly.

There was another stretch of silence, a tense one to the point she could feel something sitting behind it. Then JJ cleared his throat.

“Y/N, I was just thinking… um-”

“What’s wrong?”

She asked quickly, her voice dipping softer as she could sense her distress. She could hear something different in his voice—like guilt “I’m sorry,” he said, barely above a whisper. “For not talking to you...” Her breath caught a little and she swallowed. Her grip on the phone tightened just slightly.

“I, uh- I got a job, that’s what I was calling to tell you. It’s, uh, at the fish and tackle shop.”

She froze and for a second, she didn’t even process what he said. she just stared down at the carpet of the room, lips parted then spoke out, “… are you being serious?”

“Yeah” There was another pause before he continued his voice coming out through through the small speaker of the phone,

“I’m sorry I’ve been slacking and you’ve had to carry the house by yourself. I’m… I’m trying to be better. For you.”

She stared at the wall, that ache behind her ribs swelling. A sad smile tugged at her lips as her eyes glistened. She blinked fast, the sting behind her eyes catching her off guard. She drew in a slow, quiet breath through her nose.

“I’m proud of you Jay”

“Thanks,” he said, quieter now and then he asked, “When are you coming home?”

She drew in a slow breath, “Tomorrow. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Okay…”

She glanced at the clock on the bedside table, its red digits glowing up to her, her voice lightening.

“You going to sleep soon or what? It’s pretty late.”

He let out a tired “mmhmm,” and then he said, almost too quietly, “I miss you.” She pursed her lips tight, holding in the rush of emotion building in her throat. “I miss you too.”

“Goodnight,” he mumbled out to her.

“Go to sleep”

“I will.”

“You better.”

He let out a low chuckle- small, but real- and she could almost envision his boyish grin in the dark. “See you tomorrow,” she said.

“See ya tomorrow, sis.”

The line went dead.

She lowered the phone slowly, staring at it in her lap. The silence of the hotel room returned, and with it came the dull, heavy pressure in her chest. That hollow feeling. That shame. Because even though she had smiled and said all the right things, one truth lingered loud in her head—

She’d lied to him- and she'd never done that, not as seriously as this.

Her teeth sank into her bottom lip as her fingers tightened slightly around the edges of her phone. The guilt crept in like a tide, slow but suffocating. JJ’s voice was still echoing in her ears—the softness in it, the hesitation- he was trying so hard. He had called just to tell her he’d gotten a job, just to let her know he was trying to be better for her.

And here she was.

Sitting in a hotel room far from home, sharing quiet and warmth with the one person her brother hated more than anyone else on the island. The one person who'd hated and tourmented them since they were kids. She glanced over at him, still silent on the other side of the bed. His gaze was fixed on the muted television, though she could tell he wasn’t really watching. There was a calmness to his posture now, a quiet presence that shouldn’t have felt safe- but somehow did.

And that made it worse.

Because the longer they sat here, the more she realized that her feelings for him were starting to shift. The edges of her anger had dulled, the lines had blurred. He had seen her at her lowest, and he hadn’t run, he hadn’t mocked her like he always had. He’d stayed- and that terrified her more than anything.

Because JJ could never know.

Not about why she was really in Charleston.

Not about Rafe.

And especially not about the way her heart was starting to beat differently when he looked at her.

taglist: @xoxosblogsblog @moonywhisp3rs @i-love-gvf @my-name-is-baby@ltristessedureratoujours @stoned-writer @mariamadison6-blog@rafesgurl@rafecameronswhoore @lovelytoomusic @mysticbby2009 @vanessa-rafesgirl@silkenthusiasts @partygirl14 @amterasuu @xoxo-ada @icaqttt@ivysprophecy @mauvesmax @larema121 @ggraycelynn @emeloyy @pluviophilis@slut-4-gojo @willowpains @wtfisastiles @rafecqmeronslove @pleasstory@lolasangelz @beau-dabomb @psychocitylights @constantsadness @rhianthebest@emmiesummers @sfotiegiuls @ggraycelynn @larema121 @emeloyy @pluviophilis@urgoldens @insominagirlss @urfavoritebrunette007 @mauvesmax @miniiminie@kythefangirl25 @niyalovests @scream4mami @aizawawify @prettybabyyyy@barbiefan14 @keennerdslover @rafeysslut @rafeysworldim19@jennieonline@hannieskzzz@sugak00kie03@gabrielaperez11@simonejacpbsen@bambigirl10@prettycoochieee