#boneyard in space!

[spaceprincessleia]

Ahsoka (2023) + space in 1x07 | Dreams and Madness ↪ for Ahsoka Week Day 1

[skycotl-before-and-after]

It’s hard to tell, but there’s more space under this tree’s roots than you’d think!

This is my kind of cozy. Go see it before it’s gone.

[michaelgabrill]

Boneyard Airplane Sees New Life as a NASA X-66 Simulator

NASA’s X-66 aircraft, the centerpiece of its Sustainable Flight Demonstrator project, is taking the term “sustainable” to heart by reusing an old MD-90 cockpit as a base for its new X-66 simulator. When airplanes are retired, they often wind up in “boneyards” — storage fields where they spend years being picked over for parts by […] from NASA https://ift.tt/W7KlCTD

[loveesiren]

𝖤𝗆𝖾𝗋𝗀𝖾𝗇𝖼𝗒 𝖢𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖺𝖼𝗍 (𝖯𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝖮𝗇𝖾)

Rafe Cameron x Reader | Pt. 2

a/n: hi my lovelies! I wrote this based on one of my favorite songs! Emergency Contact by Pierce The Veil. It ended up being really long so I decided to chop it up into three parts! Not sure if I'll write more for it but I'm just happy to get out of my writer's block and post something new. I hope you enjoy! Feedback welcome and encouraged :)

synopsis: Y/N has always been close to the Cameron family, practically a part of it after years of friendship. Beneath the surface, unspoken feelings simmer between her and Rafe, but neither of them can muster the courage to admit it. When Y/N finally decides to move on, setting her sights on a new man, he’s forced to confront the truth: losing her might cost him more than he ever realized.

warnings: slight angst

wc: 3.1k+

Rafe wasn’t used to girls like you. Sweet, kind, and angelic. His experience with women had mostly consisted of those who were after his money or his drugs, their intentions shallow and self-serving. But you were different. You didn’t want anything from him—not his wealth, not his reputation, not his vices. Your every interaction with him felt genuine, and it threw him off balance. You made him feel things he couldn’t quite name, emotions foreign and unsettling in their depth.

The first time Sarah brought you home was about three years ago. You had recently moved to the Outer Banks and met Sarah at a party at the Boneyard. You hit it off immediately, your laughter and warmth cutting through the chaos of the night. Sarah had invited you to dinner with her family, and you accepted, not knowing how much that evening would change everything.

You wore a white sundress that night, the fabric brushing against your sun-kissed skin. Your hair fell in soft waves past your shoulders, and you carried yourself with effortless grace. You looked like the picture-perfect Kook, someone destined to fit seamlessly into their world. Sarah had assured you her family would love you—and they did. But no one was more captivated than her brother, Rafe.

“Rafe, this is Y/n,” Sarah introduced as you stepped into the dining room.

“So nice to meet you!” you said warmly, your smile lighting up the space.

Sarah had expected Rafe to scoff or brush you off like he usually did with her friends. Instead, he stood there, visibly flustered. His blue eyes darted from you to the floor as he scratched the back of his head, his hair falling slightly into his face.

“I-uh-you too,” he stammered, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

Sarah smirked, barely holding back a laugh. It was rare to see Rafe like this, vulnerable and unsure. Throughout dinner, he was unrecognizable—quiet, attentive, and completely entranced by you. He didn’t crack a single sarcastic remark or roll his eyes like he usually did. Instead, he listened intently as you chatted with Rose and Ward about your background, your studies, and your dreams. His heart skipped a beat every time you laughed, the sound stirring something deep inside him.

Later that night, as you and Sarah changed into pajamas in her room, she couldn’t help but tease you.

“Rafe likes you,” she said, a sly grin spreading across her face.

You blinked in surprise. “Really? He seems… shy.”

Sarah snorted. “Oh, he’s far from shy. At least, not with most people. I’ve never seen him clam up like that before.”

You bit your lip, a soft smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. The thought of Rafe Cameron—the same Rafe who intimidated just about everyone—getting nervous around you sent a flutter through your chest.

Over the months, you became a fixture in the Camerons’ lives. You grew close to Sarah, sharing secrets and adventures like lifelong friends. But it was your bond with Rafe that surprised everyone—including yourself. Around you, he was different. The sharp edges of his personality softened, his temper cooled. He was kinder, calmer, and, for the first time in years, genuinely happy.

Sarah noticed the change immediately. She even started to enjoy spending time with her brother—something she’d never thought possible. Whenever you were around, Rafe seemed lighter, his dark moods kept at bay by your presence.

And while you’d never admit it out loud, you’d started to feel something too. The way his eyes lingered on you, the way his voice softened when he spoke your name—it all made your heart race in a way you couldn’t ignore. You knew it was risky, falling for your best friend’s brother. But with Rafe, it felt inevitable.

Today was an exciting day. You and Sarah were helping Rafe move into his new house, a milestone he’d worked tirelessly to achieve. It wasn’t as grand as Tanneyhill, lacking the opulence and legacy of the Cameron estate, but it was something entirely his. A charming seaside home, bathed in sunlight and kissed by the ocean breeze, a place where he could finally carve out a life of his own. With Sarah already living with John B, you knew Rafe had felt out of place staying at home at 24. Now, this house was his fresh start.

“This is gorgeous!” you called out, your voice carrying across the open space as you stepped onto the balcony off the living room. The view was breathtaking: the endless stretch of ocean meeting the horizon, waves rolling in with rhythmic grace. The sun warmed your skin, and the salty air filled your lungs, making your heart feel light and free.

Rafe followed you outside, a soft smile playing on his lips. “I thought you’d like it,” he said, his voice tinged with pride. But while the sea and sky formed a masterpiece before him, his gaze lingered on you instead, captivated by the way the sunlight danced in your hair and the way your eyes sparkled with joy.

“I mean, look at this view!” you exclaimed, leaning against the railing and spreading your arms wide as if to embrace the entire ocean. “I could look at this forever!”

Rafe’s eyes never left you. “Me too,” he murmured, so softly it was almost a whisper. His words weren’t meant for the horizon or the waves, but for you—the only view that truly mattered to him in that moment.

You turned to look at him, a grin lighting up your face. “I brought champagne! To celebrate!” you announced, practically bouncing on your feet before darting back through the house and out to your car to grab the bottles you’d picked up. Returning triumphantly, you popped one open, the cork flying with a soft “pop” and a few fizzy streams spilling onto the hardwood floor. You laughed it off, quickly pouring everyone a glass.

“To new beginnings!” you declared, raising your glass high, your eyes sparkling as they met Rafe’s.

“To new beginnings,” Rafe echoed, his voice soft but steady as he clinked his glass against yours, his gaze lingering on you a little longer than necessary.

The rest of the afternoon was a flurry of activity. John B and Rafe tackled the heavy lifting, moving boxes and furniture, while you and Sarah set to work unpacking and arranging. The kitchen was priority number one, ensuring Rafe would at least have a functional space to cook while settling in. Between trips to Tanneyhill and the furniture store, laughter filled the air, making the hard work feel less like a chore and more like an adventure.

By the time evening rolled around, the four of you collapsed onto the couch, surrounded by a sea of half-opened boxes. You leaned back, exhaustion mingling with the lingering buzz of champagne.

“How do you have so much stuff?” Sarah groaned, shooting Rafe an incredulous look.

Rafe smirked, leaning back against the couch. “Please, I seem to remember a few boatloads of crap when we moved you to Poguelandia.”

“He’s not wrong,” John B chimed in, raising an eyebrow at Sarah. “Our room is mostly your stuff. I have, like, one drawer.”

“Oh, shut up!” Sarah laughed, playfully slapping her boyfriend on the shoulder. She yawned, stretching her arms over her head. “Speaking of our room,” she said through another yawn, “I’m ready for bed.”

You giggled as John B helped her up from the couch, the champagne’s bubbly warmth making you feel light and carefree.

“Thanks for the help,” Rafe said, walking them to the door. You listened as the Twinkie’s engine roared to life, fading into the distance as Rafe closed the door and returned to the couch.

“Rafeyyyy,” you whined playfully, stretching out the nickname as you leaned into the cushions. “I think I might’ve had a little too much champagne.”

Rafe chuckled, his lips curving into an easy smile as he settled beside you. He loved the way your nickname for him rolled off your tongue, soft and endearing. “That’s okay. You can stay here tonight. Take the bed; I’ll crash out here.”

“What? No!” you protested, sitting up a little straighter. “It’s your first night in your new home! I don’t want to ruin that.”

“Trust me, sweetheart,” he said, his voice low and warm, “you’re not ruining anything.”

“I don’t even have a change of clothes,” you pouted, crossing your arms for dramatic effect.

Rafe’s laugh was soft, a sound that made your chest feel lighter. He reached out, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Go shower. I’ll make the bed and find you something to wear.”

Your cheeks warmed under his touch, but you nodded, a cheeky smile spreading across your face. “Okay,” you said, hopping up and darting toward the bathroom.

You were grateful you and Sarah had spent time unpacking the essentials in the master suite. Grabbing a towel, you locked the door behind you and turned on the shower. Steam quickly filled the space, cocooning you in its warmth. As the water cascaded over your skin, washing away the day’s sweat and exhaustion, you let yourself relax, the events of the day swirling in your mind. Rafe’s soft smiles and gentle touches lingered in your thoughts, leaving your heart fluttering in a way you couldn’t quite shake.

You tried to push the thoughts from your mind. You and Rafe were close friends—nothing more. You couldn’t justify having feelings for your best friend’s older brother. Besides, Sarah had set you up on a date with JJ Maybank for tomorrow. The blonde Pogue was someone you’d grown to know well. He was carefree and fun, always ready to brighten everyone’s day with his infectious energy.

You were genuinely excited for your date with JJ. Rafe, on the other hand, didn’t see you as anything more than a friend. Sure, he’d had a small crush on you when you first met, but that had been ages ago. He’d never made a move, so you assumed those feelings had long since faded. You shook off the intrusive thoughts and focused on finishing your shower, letting the warm water wash away any lingering doubts.

Meanwhile, Rafe moved with quiet purpose. He carefully made the bed, choosing the softest sheets he could find and fluffing the pillows with meticulous care. On the edge of the bed, he laid out one of his favorite T-shirts and a pair of sweatpants for you. Comfort was his priority. It always was when it came to you. He wanted you to feel at ease, to be happy. Deep down, he was completely and hopelessly in love with you, though he’d never admit it. The thought of saying it out loud felt terrifying—what if it changed everything?

Hearing the shower turn off, Rafe quickly exited the room, retreating to the couch. He pressed play on a random movie, letting the screen light up with familiar scenes as a distraction. Ten minutes later, you emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in his oversized clothes, your damp hair framing your face.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” he asked, his voice soft.

You sank onto the couch beside him. “Better. Sleepy,” you admitted with a small smile. “Thank you,” you added, gesturing to the clothes you wore.

“No problem,” he replied, fiddling with his earlobe, his gaze flickering nervously between you and the TV.

“What are you watching?” you asked, pulling your knees to your chest and resting your chin on them.

“Uh, just some old movie,” he said with a shrug. “Put it on for background noise.”

You squinted at the screen, quickly recognizing the iconic characters. A playful grin spread across your face. “Rafe Cameron, are you watching Titanic?”

Rafe glanced at the TV, his cheeks flushing. He hadn’t even realized what he’d put on. “Oh, I… I guess so,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his neck.

You laughed softly, turning to him. There was a shy look in his eyes, but it wasn’t about the movie. It was something else, something deeper. He looked like he wanted to say something, the words hovering on the tip of his tongue. But before he could speak, he clamped his mouth shut, redirecting his attention to the screen.

“You wanna watch it?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah,” you said with a smile, leaning back into the couch. The comfort of the moment settled over you like a blanket.

You hadn’t planned on falling asleep, but the champagne and the long day had drained you. Before you knew it, you were slumped against Rafe, your head resting on his lap as soft snores escaped your lips.

Rafe’s heart swelled as he looked down at you, a tender smile spreading across his face. He gently played with the ends of your hair, his fingers brushing against the silky strands. As the movie reached its emotional climax, he found himself tearing up—not just at the tragic ending but at the overwhelming emotions swirling inside him. You looked so peaceful, so angelic, and he felt an ache in his chest he couldn’t ignore.

Carefully, he shifted, lifting your head to slide out from under you. Scooping you up into his strong arms, he carried you to the bedroom, mindful not to disturb your slumber. He pulled back the covers and tucked you in, making sure you were snug before clicking off the light. Leaning down, he pressed a soft kiss to your temple, lingering for a moment to take in your serene beauty. With a reluctant sigh, he made his way back to the couch.

Sleep didn’t come easily for Rafe that night. He tossed and turned, his thoughts consumed by you. He’d tried to bury his feelings, tried to convince himself that friendship was enough. But the more he tried, the stronger those feelings grew. In the quiet of the night, he allowed himself to daydream—a cozy little house by the sea, a dog, maybe even kids. A life with you. But reality crept in, reminding him that to you, he was just a friend. Nothing more.

The next morning, the savory aroma of eggs and bacon wafted through the air, stirring you from sleep. You rubbed the remnants of slumber from your eyes and glanced around, the unfamiliar surroundings reminding you where you were. Rafe’s new house. His king-sized bed cradled you in luxurious comfort, but the empty space beside you felt oddly hollow. For a fleeting moment, you’d hoped to find Rafe still asleep there. The thought made you frown, though you quickly reminded yourself that he’d slept on the couch—because of course, Rafe was a gentleman like that.

You padded softly toward the kitchen, following the sound of sizzling. “Smells good,” you said, your voice still heavy with sleep.

Rafe jumped slightly but turned to you with a soft smile. “Oh, hey! You’re up! I made breakfast.”

“Thanks, Rafey,” you replied with a grin, sliding onto a stool at the kitchen island. Then guilt crept into your tone. “Sorry I got all drunk and stole your bed.”

He shook his head dismissively, turning back to the stove. “No need to apologize. I’m just glad you got some rest after yesterday.” He plated eggs and bacon, setting it before you. “Did you sleep okay?”

“Like a baby,” you chuckled, picking up a crisp strip of bacon.

“Good,” he replied, his voice warm as he resumed cooking. “So, any big plans today? Wanna help me unpack more of this mess?”

You paused mid-bite, your mind flickering to the evening ahead. “I can help for a bit, but I have a date tonight, so I’ll need to head home early to get ready.”

The words hung in the air, slicing through the calm. Rafe’s hand stilled, his grip tightening on the spatula. He didn’t turn to look at you, knowing his face might betray the knot tightening in his chest. In all the time he’d known you, he’d never heard you talk about a real date. Sure, you danced with guys at parties or flirted harmlessly, but this—this was different. His heart twisted painfully, the kind of ache he couldn’t ignore.

“A date?” he asked, forcing his tone to sound casual, though the words felt like sandpaper against his throat. “With who?”

You hesitated before answering, as if bracing yourself. “JJ,” you said quietly. “Sarah set it up. I haven’t been on a date in a long time, so I’m not really sure what to expect.”

Rafe’s mind reeled. JJ Maybank. Of all people. Why would Sarah do this—when she knew how he felt about you? He plastered on a tight smile, masking his turmoil as he finally turned to face you. “It’ll be great,” he said, his voice steady despite the storm raging inside him.

“You think so?” you asked, chewing your lip nervously. “I’m kind of... nervous.”

He swallowed hard, shoving his feelings down where they couldn’t escape. “Yeah,” he said, the words tasting bitter. “You’re a catch. He’d be a total idiot not to like you.”

Your lips curved into a warm smile, and for a moment, your gaze locked with his. Those ocean-blue eyes of his held something unspoken, something tender. “Thanks, Rafe,” you said softly, your voice full of gratitude.

He forced a grin, though it felt hollow. “Of course,” he replied. “Tell you what—don’t worry about the unpacking. Go home and get ready for your big date. Can’t wait to hear all about it.”

You beamed, finishing the last bites of breakfast. “You’re the best,” you said, grabbing your purse and heading for the door. “Thanks for letting me crash! I’ll get your clothes back to you tomorrow!”

Rafe watched as you hurried to the door, his heart aching with every step you took away from him. He raised a hand in a mock salute, a forced smile still glued to his face. “Have fun,” he said, his voice hollow.

The door clicked shut behind you, and suddenly the house felt suffocatingly empty. Rafe stood in silence, staring at the spot where you’d just been, your laughter still echoing faintly in his ears. He let out a sharp breath, his chest heaving with suppressed emotion. Before he could stop himself, he grabbed the nearest glass off the counter and hurled it against the wall. It shattered into a thousand tiny pieces, much like the hope he’d been quietly holding onto.

His hands gripped the edge of the counter, his knuckles white as he tried to steady himself. She’s gone, he thought bitterly. She was never mine to lose, but somehow, I lost her anyway.

For years, he’d found comfort in being the one you turned to—when you were too drunk at a party, overwhelmed by a panic attack, or even just bored on a lazy afternoon. You’d always come to him. But now, you were running toward someone else. JJ fucking Maybank.

And there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.

© loveesiren 2025 - do not copy, translate, transfer, or repost my work without my permission. if you find my work on sites other than through links i've provided, please notify me.

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[obxsummer]

messy // john b routledge

request: Would love to do a request if your taking? You know the bonfire scene where John b and Sarah were broken up and she came with topper and saw John b with another girl and a fight ended up happening where the girl pushed Sarah and John b was yelling crying for her name can we do that with y/n and John b but instead of the fight with him and topper we do a fight with y/n and the girl John b was with and the girl ends up pushing y/n which has John b going crazy and in protective mode and y/n got really hurt by that push from that small clif

pairing: john b routledge x cameron!reader (she/her)

warnings: the usual obx angst and violence, ooc rafe cameron (BRING ME PROTECTIVE RAFE WOOO), injuries

navigation 

--

Boneyard Bonfires are well known in the OBX but not for the reasons they should be. More often than not (a couple years in a row now), fights and arguments broke out between the two halves of the island which usually caused the hangout to end early.

You definitely weren’t planning on attending considering things between you and John B were rough right now. Still reeling from the previous events of the week, you just wanted some space to comprehend the loss your family was facing right now. You didn’t mean to make him upset or to put a wrench in your relationship, but John B was less than happy when you told him you were heading back to Tannyhill to find comfort in your brother and sisters.  

The news of Ward’s death traveled fast, but it felt like everything had stood still for your family. Despite being adopted before you could even remember, Ward and Rose had raised you, and your heart was still broken even after all of the horrible things he’d done to you and your friends. It wasn’t fair to have so many mixed emotions and still push yourself to be around John B when he was busy celebrating a loss that hit you hard.

“You okay?” The soft tone of concern in Rafe’s voice was surprising as you glanced over your shoulder where he was approaching. You were standing out by the dock, eyes on the slow-moving water. The same dock that had been full of cops and your friends only a few days ago.

“Fine,” You mumbled. He pulled you close, arms warm as he held you to his chest like it would protect you from the cruel reality. Rafe completely shut down when the yacht exploded, like all anger had left his body and was replaced with sorrow and fear of the unknown. For so long, Ward had fixed everything for him, and Rafe had been hit with the hard truth that it would no longer happen. Like a flipped switch, he went from an irresponsible party kid to a protective older brother. The one you remembered most growing up, the version you’d missed for so long.

“Did you talk to John B?”

You shook your head slightly. “No, not since yesterday.”

Rafe had tried to stop you from going to find John B yesterday, begging you not to leave him. You hadn’t seen raw emotion out of your brother like that in so long that it scared you, so you let Rafe drive you to your boyfriend’s house to have the honest conversation that needed to happen.

“Hey,” You whispered quietly as you walked down the dock to where John B was sitting.

“Hey.” John B looked up and stood from his seat to join you on the floor of the dock closer to the water.

You sniffled, tugging your knees to your chest as you wrapped your arms around them. Every nerve of your body screamed to run and hide from this nightmare, wishing it would just disappear from view and spare the pain.

“I’m sorry you had to see that.” John B’s fingers were warm as the rested on your knee, his other hand gently grabbing your cheek to brush away tears, a small gasp leaving your lips at the action. You’d cried so, so much in these past few hours that it was surprising to have tears left. 

“Were you happy?” You asked quietly, watching his face to tell a reaction. “Because you looked happy.”

John B hesitated in his response, “Babe, he killed my dad.”

You licked your lips and tucked them in, giving a small nod of understanding. It was hard to come to terms that John B felt this was an even trade-off, a life for a life. But he wasn’t wrong, and that made it worse.

“I just think too much has happened,” You admitted honestly, sniffling against your sleeve. “I just thought of all people…you would understand what it was like losing a dad. And I needed you, John B. A-and maybe everyone was right, maybe this is too complicated.”

The two of you received so much backlash when you got together, from friends and family, that it almost broke you. John B reassured you more than once that he didn’t care what they had to say, that the two of you cared about each other and that was the most important thing. But sitting here, with him, you began to wonder if it would be enough.

“It’s not, it’s not too complicated,” He tried to reason, the puzzle fitting into place as he realized what you might be implying. “Please don’t leave. I’ll figure it out, I promise.”

You shook your head and faced him with teary eyes, letting yourself be so vulnerable with the boy you’d trusted your life and heart to. “I love you, JB. But I think I need some time to… to figure this out. I shouldn’t have come here.”

Standing up, you pressed your palms into your eyes to stop the flood of tears in order to see your footsteps as you walked away.

“Hey, hey. Wait,” John B was quickly behind you, his arms wrapping around your shoulders tightly as he held you. Your breath was shaky as you grabbed onto him and tucked your cheek against his skin, soaking up every second of it that you could. “It’s okay. It’s okay. Just talk to me.”

“Just… just give me some time, okay?” You asked quietly, tucking your hand into his like it was your lifeline. “I’ll be back, promise. I just… I gotta figure this out.”

John B pressed a kiss to your head, turning your form so he could hug you properly as you sobbed. He never meant to cause so much harm, despite the fact that he was glad Ward was gone after all he had done. John B almost forgot you lost a dad in the mix, so caught up in the idea of revenge.

The sound of your name being called broke your moment with John B, both of you turning to see Rafe standing in the grass at the end of the dock. You could feel the muscles in John B’s back tense at the sight, but you knew your brother wasn’t here to fight. Rafe wasn’t here to play Kook King, he was in older brother mode. He was here for you.

“I’ve gotta go,” You whispered to John B, pulling yourself from his embrace to press a kiss to his cheek. You turned away and began the walk toward your brother, each step creating a crack in the foundation of your relationship. It felt like the worst thing to do at the moment, but you had to take time to fix this. For you, for John B. For everyone. 

--

After three days of hiding in your room with Sarah, you gave up on the idea of rotting away. It was more harmful than good, anyway. It had taken some convincing from your friends and each other, but you, Rafe, and Sarah decided to go to the bonfire, hoping it would bring some normalcy and energy back to the three of you. Today had been better than the others, too, so it wouldn’t hurt to venture out for a little bit. 

The scene was already busy when you got there, cheers and music coming from every area while people mingled and partied away. You walked in with Sarah, having already lost Rafe to Topper and his usual group of rowdy friends. 

“Here,” Your sister handed over a seltzer she’d brought along, the two of you pregaming a bit to take the edge off and help shake the anxiety. 

You thanked her, popping the tab and taking a sip as you unconsciously scanned the crowd for the familiar faces you’d come to love. Kiara and Pope were found first, the duo sitting by the fire and conversing with drinks in hand. JJ came next, the blond busying himself with a shotgun alongside some girl you recognized from previous parties. 

And then, there was John B. Your John B who begged you not to leave, promising to fix things, was up close and personal with a girl. A girl who wasn’t you.

“Oh, I’ll fucking kill him.”

You barely had enough time to grab Rafe’s shirt sleeve, your older brother seemingly catching sight of the issue as you did. You weren’t sure when he had ditched Topper and whatever blonde hookup he wanted tonight, but he had, and now he was pissed.

“It’s fine,” You reassured and took a sip of your drink, not yet letting go of his flannel as you tried to act like you were unbothered. “Leave it. For now.”

“He’s still a Pogue,” Rafe reminded you, eyes flaring with the need to teach John B a lesson. 

You nodded and let your grip fall. “Rafe, I’ve got it. I’ll handle it, and if things go south, then you can punch him.”

Rafe sent the sharpest glare toward John B, which went unnoticed before he returned to his friends with a handful of beers. Sarah rolled her eyes at his aggressive change but didn’t say anything, the two of you clinking your cans together before taking another sip.

One drink turned into too many, but you were so carefree and light that you didn’t care. Kie and Pope had come to join you at one point, the four of you a little too buzzed or high to acknowledge the tension with other members of the group. Sarah was leaning on your shoulder, looking the happiest she had since everything went down and you were glad to see it. Your siblings meant the world to you and now, they were all you had left.

“I’m getting another drink,” You announced louder than needed as you stood up from your friends and made your way toward the drink area without another word. To your luck (or unconscious movement), you managed to find John B near the bonfire, his attention still on the dark-haired girl you’d noticed earlier.  The alcohol-based confidence pushed you to approach him, despite the warning in your head telling you it wouldn’t end well.

“John B, hi.” You gave him a sickly-sweet smile and titled your head toward the girl, who you recognized as Jasmine from the coffee shop up the road. “Wanna introduce me to your friend?”

No introduction was needed but John B definitely did not anticipate seeing you here, and his eyes went wide at your presence. Sarah was suddenly next to you as the boy attempted to find a response, “Look it’s not-”

“We should go,” Sarah tried to reason with you, knowing damn well you weren’t in the right headspace to have this conversation right now.

Jasmine nodded in agreement. “Good idea, you should listen to your sister.”

“Did I ask you?” You smiled at her, letting the heavy anger seep into your tone as you addressed her. 

“You don’t own everything, princess. Why don’t you go run on home and-“

“Why are you still talking?”

Sarah began mouthing off with the girl, giving you a chance to turn your attention to a very quiet John B. “She’s a real gem. Glad to know you’re working real hard on figuring us out.”

John B’s face hardened at your words as a crowd starting to gather around you. “You’re the one who said you needed time. Guess three days was enough?”

You shook your head, begging your eyes to stop burning with tears that threatened to form. “Did I mean anything to you, John B?”

The question seemed to strike him hard but he didn’t have time to react before Rafe was in between the two of you, eyes looking to kill. “Back the fuck up, John B. You’ve done enough damage to our family this week, maybe try to take a break.”

The first punch was thrown fast, but the following ones came even faster. JJ and Pope were suddenly in the mix, Topper and Kelce coming to back up your brother as the typical Kook vs Pogue war started again.

“Are you happy now?” Jasmine hissed at you, a snarky smile on her face as she watched you yell for the boys to stop.

You glared at her, tears of frustration filling your eyes. “Shut the fuck up, you bitch. Maybe keep your hands to yourself and off my boyfriend next time.”

She pounced instantly, her hands shoving your shoulders and throwing you backward off the brick wall you’d been hiding on. The pain was instantaneous, a sharp twinge up your back from landing on your tailbone and scraped skin beginning to bleed, but the heat on your arm told you the push had been a little more than aggressive.

You screamed out, rolling away from where you had connected with the bonfire. You could hear John B yelling out for you, your name was being shouted in different directions and there were suddenly so many hands reaching for you. You pushed yourself off the ground, crying in pain at the movement, but you weren’t concerned about yourself. The rage in Rafe’s eyes told you that someone needed to intervene, and it needed to happen now.

“Stop, stop!” Your voice was weak as you reached out for your brother, trying to catch his fist before he landed another punch to John B’s already bruised face. “Rafe, please!”

The pain in your voice stopped him short, both boys instantly turning to you with concern and worry. It took them only a few seconds to clock the burn on your arm, and even though you hadn’t noticed the sway to your stance, they surely did. 

Rafe dropped his grip on John B’s shirt instantly, his hands reaching out to try and assess the wound on your arm before he forced himself to focus. “Hospital, now. We’re going.”

“We don’t have the car,” Sarah pointed out as she pulled off her lightweight coverup and pressed it against your head where the pain was starting to pulse. A small whimper left your mouth, and suddenly, you were against someone’s chest within seconds.

“Move!” John B’s voice was unmistakable even though your hearing was slowly becoming a dull ring. Everything passed in a blur from there. The chaos of the fight faded away and the orange tint from the fire disappeared as the group moved away. You could barely make out Sarah and Rafe’s voices, your siblings arguing over what to do and where to go.

“I’m not getting in a car with them!”

Worn leather could be felt under your legs, the familiar stickered ceiling of the Twinkie coming into view. You groaned at the movement, your head feeling heavier with each second. You blinked, barely having the energy to look over to see John B staring back at you, his bruised face filled with concern as he held you tightly against him. 

“No no, stay with me.” John B’s fingers lightly tapped your cheeks to call your attention as you blinked slowly up at him. “You’re okay. I’ve got you. Sarah, drive!”

You could hear your sister shout back that she was trying. 

“I’ve got it,” Rafe’s voice followed her frustration before the car started moving beneath you and everything slowly turned to black.

--

You hated the smell of hospitals, but you hated waking up in them even more. It took a moment for your eyes to adjust to the dim lighting and when it did, you made out Sarah’s figure curled up on the spare bed in the room, her hair haphazardly strewn across her face. To your surprise, Rafe was slumped on the couch, his long legs barely hanging on as he lay across the piece of furniture, snoring softly. Which left one option as the person curled up in your side, the unruly dark curls giving away the answer.

“Hi,” John B’s voice was quiet in an attempt to allow your siblings to sleep. His green eyes met yours, sleep evident in the glassy haze they held. He leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead.

“Didn’t mean to wake you,” You whispered back, shifting carefully with the IV in your arm to cuddle into his side.

“Couldn’t sleep,” He admitted as his fingers dipped into the waistband of your jean shorts to brush against your hipbone. “Feel okay?”

You hummed in response. “What’d they say?”

“Concussion, second-degree on your arm, and a superficial blow to the head, my crazy girl.”

You chuckled, gripping his t-shirt between your fingers to pull him into you, “Gotta keep you on your toes, yeah?”

John B huffed a laugh and pulled your hand from his shirt to hold within his own. A few moments of peaceful quiet filled the room as you listened to his heartbeat in your ears, letting the steady sound calm your racing thoughts.

“Are you mad at me?” You asked quietly, fearing the answer he had to give. Your anxiety had gotten the best of you over the last few days and you’d been questioning whether a break from John B was actually the right thing to do.

“God, baby, how could you even think that?” John B shifted to lean on his elbow and look at you. There was a pretty gnarly bandage on your head where you’d hit the concrete on your way down. All John B could think about was how this was all his fault. He’d let you get hurt, let you down in every way possible, and here you were, scared he was mad at you. “All of this is my fault. If anything, you should be pissed at me.”

You opened your mouth to argue with him but stopped short. Yeah, your feelings had been hurt, but you knew if the roles were reversed and your actions landed John B in the hospital, you would never forgive yourself. 

“I’m sorry, about everything. You’re right, I was so caught up in revenge that I missed out on being there for you, and I’ll never forgive myself for that. You needed me, and I wasn’t there, and I’m so sorry.”

You moved your uninjured arm to hold the back of his neck, pulling him in slowly for a kiss. John B hummed in content, his fingers wrapping around your waist as he leaned in again, pinning you against the mattress to kiss you again and again and again. 

“I forgive you,” You said softly when he pulled away for a moment to catch his breath. “I’ll always forgive you.”

“This is cute and all, but can you guys shut up and quit making out?” You looked over to see Sarah glare tiredly before she flipped you off and rolled over on her other side to face away from you.

You and John B shared a quiet laugh and a handful of kisses before cuddling up on the tiny hospital bed in each other’s arms, preparing to face Rafe’s anger in the morning but moving forward together, one step at a time.

--

navigation 

[superbreadsoul]

WHEN THE DEVIL MISSES YOU

Rafe Cameron x Reader

DISCLAIMER!: The following story is purely fictional and is made for entertainment purposes. I do not own any of the characters/show/movie mentioned in this story.

WARNING: Toxic exes, heartbreak, open ended/happy-ending, Rafe is/was a bad boyfriend, Reader is not perfect, mentions of drugs/drug use, implied DV.

WORD COUNT: 5285 WORDS

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The moment you stepped into The Boneyard, a haze of neon lights and laughter swirling around, he felt a gravitational pull he couldn’t resist. Rafe Cameron’s gaze consumed you, trailing over every curve, every flicker of your confidence—a vivid reminder of every sleepless night you had caused. The memory of why you had broken up faded like smoke, lost to the undeniable electricity crackling in the space between you.

Heart racing and mind whirling, Rafe downed his drink with a purpose, the burning liquid a faint echo of the fire within him. With a quick flick of his thumb, he typed a message and pressed send before he could think better of it. Just a few heartbeats later, he saw your phone light up across the crowded room.

Rafe: Hey. Miss you.

It was so classically Rafe—simple, straightforward, a shot directly to the heart. As the party exploded into chaos around him, he locked eyes with you through the throng of tipsy revellers. He nodded toward his motorbike parked just outside, a clear invitation in the midst of the chaos.

“I’m heading out,” he stated with a casual confidence, brushing off the clamour of his friends, who were too caught up in their own indulgences to notice his urgency. Reconnecting with an ex, he thought, could only bring a thrill, maybe even a second chance, right?

You paused, a heavy sigh escaping your lips, but your feet had a mind of their own, trailing after him with a mix of reluctance and expectation. The protective stance of your arms crossed over your chest shielded you from the memories tugging at your heartstrings. Why couldn’t you just ignore him?

Rafe was already straddling his bike, the roar of the engine igniting the air around him as he pulled on his helmet. The moment he caught the sound of your footsteps, a smirk unfolded across his lips, a satisfaction deep in his gut. He liked this—this chase, the thrill of wanting.

“Let’s go,” he urged, his voice barely rising above the growl of the engine, a seductive call wrapped in confidence.

“Excuse me?” you replied incredulously, arms refusing to unfold.

He killed the engine with a frown, peeling off his helmet to flash you his trademark cocky grin. “What?” He leaned in closer, resting his arm on the seat, his eyes raking over you with unabashed appreciation. There it was again, that nervous habit of biting your lip—the habit he both adored and hated.

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” you declared, shaking your head defiantly.

“Why not? Got somewhere better to be?” Rafe challenged, the annoyance bubbling beneath his skin. Why was this so complicated when he was sure that the chemistry was still there, sizzling just beneath the surface?

“With my friends, yeah,” you shrugged, turning the knife deeper. “Why would I go anywhere with you?”

He scoffed, irritation creeping into his voice. “You’re acting like I’m the goddamn devil. Is it so hard to believe that I actually miss you?”

You let out a mockery of laughter, bitter and sweet. “You miss me? That’s rich.”

“I do miss you,” he pressed, the agitation rising with each word. He fought the urge to grab you by the shoulders, shake some sense into you. “Why do you have to act like such a bit—”

“There it is! Now I’m a bitch. That’s exactly what I was waiting for,” you interrupted, a sharp smile on your lips, but the hurt was evident in your eyes.

He couldn’t ignore how well you knew him, how easily you pressed his buttons. The corner of his mouth twitched at your sarcastic jab, but it held no real humour. “Well, if the shoe fits, sweetheart,” he shot back, his grin morphing into something more sinister.

“Yeah—go fuck yourself, Rafe.” The words shot out of your mouth like daggers, each one piercing the space between you with a sharp finality. Disappointment etched across your features, you turned on your heel, striding away from him and back toward the ecstatic chaos of the party, where laughter mingled with loud music—an escape you desperately craved.

“I would,” he called after you, his voice oozing with sarcasm and something deeper, a longing laced within the bravado. “But you’d do a better job, like always.”

The words hung in the air, thick with tension, and it took all of your willpower not to spin around. But you did stop, your shoulders tensing as you felt a mix of disbelief and indignation wash over you. Turning back to him, eyes wide, you growled, “Shut up, Rafe!” 

Embarrassment crept up your neck, and you quickly glanced around, desperate to ensure no one else had overheard. The laughter and cheers from the party felt miles away, amplifying just how isolating this confrontation had become.

“You’ve never minded me being loud before,” he teased, still perched on his bike, the engine purring a soft backdrop to this storm brewing between you. A devilish smirk spread across his face as he continued, “In fact, I’m pretty sure you’ve begged me to be loud.”

A rush of memories surged within you, ones filled with shared secrets and heated rendezvous that ignited every part of you. Come on, baby, cum inside me, come on, baby—god—Rafe!

You shook your head violently, as if trying to dislodge the sweet and agonising recollections. Your heart raced as you instinctively rushed forward and  reached up to cover his mouth, glancing around nervously to make sure no one was eavesdropping. “Rafe!” you hissed, a flush creeping into your cheeks.

His eyebrows shot up in mock surprise before erupting into laughter, each peal of sound ricocheting off your frazzled nerves. The joy in his eyes only deepened with the sight of you, flustered and frantically shushing him, but there was something else, too—a glimmer of mischief, an understanding of the power he held over you.

“Don’t look so panicked,” he teased, the laughter spilling over with every word. “This is pure nostalgia, babe. How can you not enjoy it?”

In an impulsive mix of embarrassment and anger, you shoved him lightly. “You’re disgusting,” you huffed, turning to walk away, determined to sever this tenuous connection.

He held onto your wrist with an understated urgency, refusing to let you flee back into the festering chaos of the party. It was a gentle tug, but it carried with it an unspoken plea that reverberated between you. “Just get on the back of my bike, will you?” Rafe said, rolling his eyes as he gazed down at you, the challenge glinting in his stormy blue eyes. “Come on. We’ll talk.”

“Talk? We’ve been through this a thousand times before. It’s never just ‘talking’ with you,” you replied, your voice steady yet laced with an underlying tension. You met his gaze with a deadpan look, one that dared him to deny the weight of your words.

Rafe’s expression shifted, his eyes darkening slightly as they bored into yours. He took your assertion as a challenge rather than a warning. “Yeah? And?” he shot back, his voice holding a hint of defiance, coaxing you into a verbal duel. “You’ve never had a problem with that before.”

The air thickened with unresolved emotions—each syllable exchanged was a loaded bullet, and you pressed on. “We’re not together anymore, Rafe,” you reminded him, disbelief creeping into your tone, as if it should have been obvious.

“Yeah, ’cause you broke up with me,” he retorted, stepping closer, his grip tightening just enough to send a ripple of heat through your skin. “You dumped me,” he emphasised, the words bitter on his tongue, as if the act was an open wound, still fresh and raw.

“Yes. Yes, I did. And for a good reason,” you replied softly, guilt and pain twisting in your chest like a knife. The memory of the decision lingered between you, hanging heavy in the air, an unspoken truth that cut deeper than any argument you’d had.

“Which is?” Rafe asked, a tone of vulnerability creeping into his voice. It was a tone unfamiliar to you, the usual bravado stripped away to reveal something softer beneath. For the first time, you sensed a glimmer of confusion clouding his certainty. He’d never truly understood why you had chosen to end things, why you had thrown away four years that had been both exhilarating and exhausting.

“Are you kidding? We were fighting all the time, Rafe!” you snapped, the bafflement colouring your words. How could he not see it?

“So? Couples fight,” he countered, the defensiveness creeping back into his tone. “It’s normal!” It was a tired refrain, one that you had heard too many times before, yet it still echoed painfully in your heart.

“But it was more than that!” you fired back, feeling frustration bubble up from within. “It was toxic! We kept circling the same arguments without ever fixing anything. You refused to change, and I was… I was miserable. We weren’t making each other better; we were dragging each other down!” 

And with that, the truth spilled over, painfully honest and raw, as if it were a wound torn open.

He stared at you, the reality of your words settling in, a shadow flickering across his face. “You think that’s how I wanted it?” he asked, surprise and a hint of hurt laced through his voice. “I thought you were better off with more fight in you, not less. You were always the strong one, Y/N. You could take it.”

“And look where that got us!” you shot back, your heart racing. “I fought until I couldn’t anymore! And you just… you just kept pushing!”

“How we fight? Is NOT normal, Rafe!” The words burst from your lips like fireworks, filling the charged air between you with a mixture of anger and desperation. Drained, you felt the heat radiating from your flushed cheeks as you took an unsteady breath. “I get angry and I yell. YOU get angry and you start throwing things and snorting coke!” 

Rafe’s brows furrowed, a hint of stubborn pride rising to the surface as he shot back, “That’s what I do,” tightening his grip on your wrist slightly, as if anchoring you to his world. “That’s just how I deal with things!” 

In that moment, he was a ticking bomb, aware yet indifferent about the damage he could inflict. He knew his approach wasn't healthy, wasn't good by any standard, but when frustration coursed through his veins like wildfire, it felt as if he had no other outlet.

“Well, I couldn’t deal with that! It just made me paranoid, Rafe!” Your voice rose, the plea soaked in anguish. Each word felt like a lead weight dropped into the void of your troubled relationship.

“Then why did you stay with me for so long?” The question slipped out of his mouth like ice, cold and sharp, flaring his temper further. Beneath the surface, a tempest brewed—an awareness that you were two sides of an ever-widening divide. You yearn for something better; he craved your presence, but the gulf between your realities made it feel insurmountable.

You paused, your face softened by a deep sadness, your heart aching as you prepared to lay bare your truth. “Because I loved you,” you whispered, but even those simple words seemed to hang heavy with uncertainty.

Something tightened in Rafe’s chest at your confession. The doubt gnawed at him—Bullshit. “You have a funny way of showing it,” he scoffed, sarcasm dripping from his tone. “Breaking up with the person you love? Because that really shows how much you care.”

The mist in your eyes began to swell, and you felt the familiar, bitter taste of despair creeping in, like an old friend returning. “Yeah. Okay, Rafe,” you murmured, your voice small and breaking as you turned away, blinking back tears and attempting to clear the lump lodged in your throat.

“Stop.” The command slipped from his lips, harsh and unyielding. His heart ached as he caught that familiar shimmer in your eyes, the telltale sign of tears threatening to cascade down your cheeks. The lightness of silence fell around you both, suffocating and heavy. He released your wrist, his hands itching with the desire to wipe your tears away, but he stalled himself, feeling the weight of the history that constrained you both. “Don’t start with the crying bullshit,” he said, steeling his resolve. “You’re the one who ended it.”

Every syllable felt like a stab to your raw heart. The sting echoed with the immense hurt of being belittled—the same hurt that had been inflicted over four painful years together. You nodded to yourself, your eyes focused on the ground as you struggled to hold back the tears, hugging yourself tightly as though it would somehow provide solace.

Watching you shrink, feeling yourself become the reason for your sadness, clawed at Rafe’s insides in a way he couldn’t comprehend. I hate this. He hated this feeling— Hated being the one to dim your light.

With a frustrated scoff, he ran his fingers through his tousled hair, the uncertainty crippling. “Dammit,” he muttered under his breath, grappling with his emotions. Against all better judgments, he closed the distance between you, grasping your face in his hands, forcing you to meet his gaze.

You resisted, refusing to look up, each moment of contact driving you deeper into anguish as you fought the tears welling in your eyes. You stared stubbornly down the road, the weight of the moment pressing down on you.

“Look at me,” he said, his voice dropping to a softer, almost desperate tone. Slowly, almost reluctantly, he lifted your chin, coaxing you into his fiery blue gaze. “Crying never solved anything,” he muttered, a tremor in his voice as anger mingled with something raw and unfettered—his jaw clenched tight.

Every fibre of him railed against the vulnerability on display, but beneath all that anger was an unsettling pleasure. Some dark part of him whispered,— Maybe you do enjoy making her cry.

Your heart sank further. He always had a deft way of making you feel stupid—like a mere child caught in a whirlwind of adult frustration. “Talking never solved anything between us either, Rafe,” you replied, pushing him away, your voice thick with strained emotion and decisive hurt.

You could see the flicker of pain in his eyes at your words, a fleeting glimmer of understanding that clashed with the raging storm beneath the surface. In that moment, the world around you faded, leaving only the weight of your emotions, the fragility of your relationship hanging in the air like broken glass.

Rafe faltered, a man caught between the desire to hold on and the need to let go. Each breath felt heavier as the silence deepened, filled with the unspoken intensity of your past and a fragile hope for the future—or perhaps, a final closing chapter. 

Yet in that suspended reality, neither of you knew how to bridge the ever-widening gulf between love and war. The battle raged on, but with every tear shed and every harsh word thrown, the question remained: was there still a path worth fighting for, or would this be just another painful cycle ending in loneliness?

He lets you shove him away, swallowing the protest that rises in his throat. Your truth hits like a crushing wave, undeniable, but it leaves him grappling for breath. You’re right, he thinks, but the words wither on his tongue. The warmth of your presence is intoxicating and infuriating all at once, and as you retreat into that familiar silence, he knows you’re already lost, spiralling into whatever headspace you escape to when confrontation looms.

“Y/N,” he attempts again, his voice edged with frustration as he grabs your wrist and yanks you back toward him. “You’re just running away again.” 

“Running away?” Your voice ignites the air, fierce and razor-sharp. “You’re the runner in this relationship, Rafe! Not me! I stayed for four goddamn years trying to get you to— to talk to me— to even look at me and treat me with respect!” The rawness of your emotions spills over, fueling the fire that rages between you as you shove him toward his bike. 

“Respect you?” He snaps back, fury bubbling to the surface as he steps back to her. “If my idea of respect includes putting up with your bullshit, then I’m happy to keep being disrespectful.” The bite in his tone cuts through the tension like a serrated knife, even as he knows it’s counterproductive.

Rafe is all too aware of the damage he does when his voice rises, the chaos it sends skittering across your face. It’s the quickest way to elicit a reaction from you, rivalled only by the fleeting moments when he makes contact—those moments when rage eclipses empathy.

“And I did look at you,” he sneers, venom dripping from his words. “I looked at you plenty of times with my hand around your neck.”

Your breath hitches, and the pain in your chest wells up into your throat as you stare at him, horrified. “God—look at you! You don’t even care about what you’ve done to me! How you've treated me!” Your voice trembles, rough with emotion, tears pooling in your eyes as you confront the truth—you feel battered by his unrelenting cruelty. 

“Are you kidding me?” His voice drops low, bitter, an undercurrent of wounded pride threatening to burst forth as he steps closer, invading your space. With a commanding presence, he towers over you, pinning you against the back of his bike. There’s a twisted satisfaction in the way your tears reflect his power, a fleeting belief that maybe, just maybe, he’s the one still in control.

“You constantly pushed me away! You ran away the second things got serious between us!” Your words snap like a taut wire, each syllable infused with the hurt that has festered over those long, winding years.

Rafe’s jaw clenches, a muscle ticking as anger boils underneath the surface. “Me? Running? Huh?” His voice drips with incredulity. “Is that what you call it when we’re in the middle of a fight and the next minute, I open my eyes to see you with one foot out the goddamn door?” 

Each word gets heavier, crashing down upon the space between you like a thunderstorm, drowning both your voices in a deluge of unresolved rage and passion. 

“Okay, well here I am, Rafe! I'm not running now, am I? So what do you want to do? Go on! Tell me! What’s your brilliant plan to work this out?” Your voice is a fierce challenge, hands firmly planted on your hips, glaring up into his stormy eyes, filled with expectation as if he might suddenly pull a solution from thin air.

In that moment, the silence stretches, a fragile tautness woven between you—his anger and your sorrow finding a tenuous balance. But deep down, beneath the swirling maelstrom of emotions, you both know there is no easy answer, no quick fix. Only the relentless push and pull of two souls bound by passion and pain, teetering on the precipice of what’s left to lose. 

But for now, all he can offer is silence, and the unspoken fear that whatever comes next may define not just who you are together, but whether there is even a "together" left to salvage.

Rafe stood motionless, fists clenched tightly at his sides, framing the rage and confusion simmering just beneath the surface. He glared down at you, his expression a mix of frustration and something deeper that he couldn’t quite articulate. Your gaze bore into him, eyes glistening with hurt, expectation, and something else—love. It was exhausting, the way you looked at him, a relentless reminder of all he felt yet refused to acknowledge.

Why did you hold this power over him? It wasn’t fair. With each moment that passed, he felt his anger slowly unravelling, eroded by the depth of your gaze, replaced by a tumult of emotions that threatened to sweep him away. With one determined stride, he closed the distance between you, his heart pounding wildly.

In a sudden rush, he cupped your face with rough hands and crashed his mouth against yours, a desperate collision of passion and unspoken words. 

You melted into him, your breath hitching as the world around you faded. You fisted his shirt, anchoring yourself to him, losing your resolve as desire crushed the anger that had fueled your fight. Rafe moaned with satisfaction, deepening the kiss, his tongue dancing with yours, exploring every corner of your mouth as if trying to memorise the taste of you. He missed you—oh, how he missed you.

His thumb brushed tenderly against your cheek, wiping away the tears that had slipped down in the heat of the moment. His kisses were often rough, driven by frustration and anger, but this felt different—fierce yet vulnerable, almost pleading. 

Yet, you felt a sobering reality seep in, a mix of longing and regret. You pushed against him weakly, your hands clenched around the fabric of his shirt, torn between wanting to pull him closer and needing to push him away. Rafe, sensing your struggle, didn’t relent. Instead, he pressed you back, forcing you onto the seat of his motorcycle, effectively caging you in with his body.

His hands were everywhere—grasping your hair, sliding across your waist, fingers inching dangerously close to where they shouldn’t go in public. But even in his reckless abandon, he held on to a shred of decency, hesitating just beneath your breasts, like a thief caught in the act, unsure of whether to risk it all.

The intoxicating heat of the moment enveloped you until awareness crashed back like a cold wave. You became hyper-aware of his touch, and suddenly you were shaken from your trance. Pushing him away, you hurriedly wiped your lips with the back of your hand, a bitter taste lingering on your tongue along with the chaos of emotions. “No! You can’t just do that—you can’t just kiss me and think it’ll make it all better!” Anger bubbled up through your tears, and you choked on the words, the frustration spilling over like an unrelenting tide.

“Why?” he snapped, his voice ragged and raw, dripping with exhaustion. He gripped your arms with a fierce intensity. “Why can’t I just kiss you and make it better?” Each word was a confession, a battle of its own, laying bare the ways he’d always known how to avoid the conversations that truly mattered.

You stood there, heart racing and breaths coming in ragged gasps, your voice trembling as you confronted Rafe. “Nothing ever got solved that way! Why do you think we kept fighting? We were miserable together, Rafe!” Your voice cracked under the weight of your frustration, tears threatening to spill.

Rafe leaned into your space, the anger in his demeanour suddenly turning mocking. “Oh, we were so miserable,” he sneered, fingers tightening around your jaw, pulling you closer to him, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Is that why you were always begging for me every night, huh? Because we were always miserable?”

The sharpness of his words pierced through you, and you felt like an exposed nerve, raw and aching. A soft whine escaped your throat as you buried your face in your hands, the familiar sense of despair washing over you. Once again, you were thrust back to square one, caught in a cycle with him that made your heart race and your spirit ache. He never truly took the time to understand the depth of your feelings, the turmoil that swirled within you.

“You can fight this all you want,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous as he nudged your head up with his nose, forcing you to confront him. “But you and I both know that you like when I’m rough with you, when I’m mean.”

His lips descended toward yours, capturing you in another kiss that felt more like a claim than an act of affection. This kiss was possessive and insistent, as if he was trying to expel any remaining resistance left in you, as if he could kiss away all the pain and anger.

“No, Rafe,” you whispered shakily against his lips, tears spilling over now, coursing down your cheeks. “I was afraid of you.”

The confession echoed between you like thunder, and suddenly, something within him shattered. Rafe stared at you in disbelief, his expression morphing from arrogance to something resembling vulnerability. His lips parted, but no words came—only the heaviness of your revelation hung in the air like a brick.

He had braced himself for your scorn, ready to hear you say that you hated him—his ways, his behaviour, his mercurial anger. But to hear you voice your fear, small and broken like a timid whisper, shattered him to his core.

“Your behaviour—the coke—your anger,” you choked out, each word painful and raw, forcing its way through your tears. “After Peterkin—” You flinched at the name, the reminder of the sheriff he shot like a sharp knife slicing open old wounds.

Like a bucket of cold water washed over him, Rafe stood there, realisation dawned on him like a terrible wave. The world around them had faded into an indistinct blur, and all he could focus on was the anguish etched into her face.

“Wait,” he breathed, his voice strained as if it were both a question and a plea. “Is that why you broke up with me?”

For a moment, she stayed silent, and Rafe listened to the steady rhythm of her heavy breathing, each shaky exhale a reminder of their shattered relationship. Tears streamed down her cheeks, her red and blurry eyes reflecting the pain she couldn’t articulate. 

“I couldn’t take it,” she finally rasped, her words slipping out in a sorrow-soaked confession. “I felt so guilty, trying to keep what you did to Peterkin a secret. Do you even understand how hard it was to know my boyfriend… murdered someone?” 

The weight of her words hung between them, pulling them into a chasm of fear and uncertainty. “I was so scared, Rafe. You were constantly on coke; you just got so violent. I couldn’t—I couldn’t do it anymore. You don’t even remember what you did to me, do you? I never even told you—”

Goddammit. Rafe closed his eyes, a frustrated groan escaping him, reverberating in the quiet night. He had tried to drown out memories of what he’d become, but they crashed over him like a relentless wave. 

Yes, he remembered. The rage that had blindsided him. The destructive path he had taken that had led to moments where his hands had hurt instead of healed. When he had lashed out at her, the one person who had stood by him through it all. How had he let it come to this? 

She turned away, trying to wipe her tears in vain, as if she could wish away the pain that lingered between them. Rafe felt his heart wrench at the sight of her suffering.

“Oh, for f—look at me!” he snapped, an edge of desperation creeping into his tone. He stepped forward, needing her to hear the urgency in his voice, needing her to face him. “Please, just look at me!” 

Torn between the impulse to lash out against his own anguish and the overwhelming need to reach out to her, Rafe was caught in a tempest of emotion. He wanted to scream to silence the doubts and fears. But he also wanted to pull her into his arms and promise her he would never let go. 

Finally, you reluctantly turned to him, her eyes a mixture of hurt and weariness, silently pleading for clarity. 

“Rafe…” she whispered, her voice trembling. “You don’t understand how much I’ve lost.”

“No, I don’t,” he admitted, his voice steadying as he fought to regain his composure. “And that’s why I need to know. I don’t want to pretend anymore. I want to confront this… us… whatever this is, together. I know I’ve hurt you, and I know I’ve hurt myself. But I want to change. I want to fight this for you—for us.”

Her eyes searched his, as if trying to gauge the sincerity behind his plea. “It’s going to take more than just words, Rafe. I need to see you willing to fight—a real fight.”

“I’ll fight every damn day,” he vowed, honesty pouring from his heart. “You have to believe me. I don’t want to be that person anymore. I can’t be that person and lose you in the process.”

A silence fell between them, heavy like the night sky. She opened her mouth to say something, but the words caught in her throat. Finally, she sighed and stepped back, creating distance that felt insurmountable. 

“Rafe… I don’t know if I can trust what you’re saying. It’s so hard for me,” she said, tears welling up again. 

“I know,” he replied, voice barely above a whisper. “But if you let me, I’ll show you—every single day. I’ll—I’ll get clean, and I–I won’t run from my reflection in the mirror anymore. I refuse to be the man who brought you pain. Okay? I’m–I’m gonna take care of us. I’m gonna take care of you.”

She looked down, contemplating, chewing on her lip as the weight of his words began to settle. The barriers she had built to protect herself were carved from fear but also love. Love that had once defined their relationship.

“I… I don’t want you to hurt yourself trying to change,” she managed, a shard of quiet desperation threaded in her words. “It’s going to take time, Rafe. You can’t expect me to just jump back in.”

“I’m not,” he reassured her gently. “I want to be patient. I want to rebuild. I just can’t imagine a future without you in it.”

“Promise me you’ll keep fighting,” she said softly, her gaze finally locking on him with a fierce intensity, as if her heart was dangling by a thread. “Promise me you won’t give up on yourself.”

“I promise,” Rafe said firmly, sealing that promise with determination. “But I need your help too. I need you to consider that maybe we could find our way back.”

Her expression wavered, hope flickering as she searched for a sense of purpose in the storm raging within. 

“Okay,” she said slowly, a semblance of resolution breaking through. “But only if you’re serious about this.”

Rafe nodded, relief flooding through him. He extended a hand toward her, not forcing contact but offering it and hoping she would take it. After an agonising moment, she glanced at his hand and then at his face, searching for sincerity.

Then they both took a step toward each other, a tentative toe in the water of rebuilding a shattered world. 

As their fingers entwined, he felt the warmth of her skin, a reminder of what they had once shared. The night still held shadows, but glimmers of light began to break through, carving out the possibility of healing.

In that bittersweet moment—where fear mixed with hope—they stepped onto the path of understanding, aware that though the road ahead would be long and filled with obstacles, they were committed to facing it together, one day at a time.

The End.

[princessbrunette]

stepbro john b seeing jj flirt or topper flirt with you.

love your page <33333

    🦴  ꒱   .  ྀི    

thinking about this in the context of when you first became aware of each others existence.

john b took you to a boneyard party, made you promise to behave yourself— and lost you within the space of an hour. you could handle yourself, he kept telling himself — but regret for his own carelessness fills his body when he spots you across the way laughing with none other than topper.

the brunette kicks up sand as he wanders over, staring you down. “aaand that is your brother—” topper points out, clearly in the middle of some elaborate story or joke that was making you giggle.

“step-brother— look what are you doin’ here top?” john b places his hands on his hips like a dad, a stance that made you giggle and bite your finger feeling like you’re in trouble.

“woah, we’re just having some fun here, right?” topper keeps that same boy-next-door smile that had you totally fooled as he places an arm round your shoulder and it’s like john b’s eyes physically darken before you as he squares up, looking down his nose at the fake blonde.

“take your hands off her… okay?” he rasps, voice low and deep making something stir in your panties though it shouldn’t have.

“whatever bro.” toppers smile melts into a malicious smirk before he turns to you. “was nice to meet you gorgeous. enjoy the rest of the party with the fun police—”

“walk away.” your step brothers holds himself back, watching topper shake his head and return to his friends before turning to you, crossing his arms. “are you insane? hm?” he tilts his head expectedly.

“what? m’socialising.” you pout, stepping up into his space like you couldn’t help but be close to him, the alcohol not helping your case here.

“well, can you socialise with the pogues instead of — i dunno — my sworn enemy? topper lives for shit like that, okay— you’re just giving him leverage on me.” he stresses, brow creased up at the thought.

“please, he’s got nothing on you. you’re john b.” you bat your lashes up at him, watching his expression melt into something else.

“uh, what does that mean?” he pushes, though he feels he shouldn’t.

“you’re more brave… you’re cooler… way hotter…” your eyes drag downwards. “probably way bigger.” you add breathily making him swallow.

“wow, wildly inappropriate.” he brushes it off, ticking his head lightly to the side making you giggle.

“whatever. we’re not blood related.” you shrug with a giggle, going to walk away but he pulls you back.

“uh, hey — do you mean that? or… are you just completely wasted?” his eyes linger, an obvious glimmer of hope passing through the chocolate hue of them.

“i’ve had two drinks only.” you hold up your red solo cup before stepping past him. “c’mon. wanna party!” you beam and he blows out a puff of air, following close behind.

“aaalright…”

    🦴  ꒱   .  ྀི    

[katsu28]

can i please request this “ [ LAP ] sender pulls receiver into their lap” this with JJ?

please forgive for how long it took me to get to this, dear anon :')

jj maybank x reader, mentions of alcohol, 1.5k

“Attention, attention, this is your driver speaking, politely requesting that Y/N L/N get her ass in this van, effective immediately. Over.” John B had his hands cupped over his mouth as he slowed the Twinkie to a stop along the sidewalk you were making your way down, shit-eating grin very present on his face as he leaned across to the passenger side to catch your reaction. 

“If that was polite, I’d hate to see what impolite looks like.” 

“That would be just a good old fashioned kidnapping.” He replied, shrugging. 

You stopped, turned to face the boy full on with your hands on your hips. “Right, because that’s never happened before.” 

“That wasn’t kidnapping, that was a very enthusiastic welcome home party!” chimed in JJ from somewhere in the back, and you could imagine the smile that matched John B’s gracing his lips too. 

“You guys grabbed me right out of my room!” 

“Specificities don’t matter.” John B rolled his eyes, motioning for you to get in the van quickly. 

“They do when you put a towel over my head.” You moved to open the passenger door since the seat was empty, but he swatted your hand through the open window before you could. “Ow, what the fuck?” 

“Sarah’s sitting in the front.” 

“Sarah’s not even here yet.” 

“I know, but we’re getting her next and I promised she wouldn’t have to sit in the back again since JJ yacked all over her shoes after the last bonfire.” 

JJ’s voice sounded out again, this time more exasperated than anything. “I told you, I got carsick from your driving! And I already apologized, so I really don’t see what the problem is.” 

“Please, Y/N?” John B pleaded, clasping his hands together. 

“Fine.” You rolled your eyes, pulling open the back door with a huff. The first thing you noticed was the giant keg occupying the seat you were planning on sitting in. The second was JJ, Kie, and Pope all crammed into the remaining space like sardines in a can, offering you identical sheepish smiles. “I…where am I supposed to sit?” 

“I’m sure JJ won’t mind if you sit with him. Right, J?” 

It was a ploy, you were sure of it. Take advantage of your crush on JJ Maybank by forcing you into the smallest space possible, see what happens. Your friends were smart, but not as smooth as they thought they were being. 

Your eyes flicked to the blond boy, who merely grinned, scooting over and patting the open space next to him. “Come on in, seat buddy.” 

You aimed a small smile at him as you stepped up into the cramped van, literally climbing over everyone else to squeeze yourself in next to him. Your thigh pressed against JJ’s as you settled in the half seat he gave you, both your elbows fighting for the space you barely had. 

It was the most awkward of dances, trying to sit comfortably in one seat. His arm knocked into your head when you tried to lean back against the seat, you ended up kicking him trying to cross one leg over the other; nothing seemed to be working no matter what you both tried. You could tell Kie was trying not to crack up watching you and JJ fumble around like idiots, but she kept her cool.  

“Hold on. Why don’t you just—” JJ pulled you onto his lap smoothly, arms wrapping loosely around your waist in one fluid motion before you could even react. “There. More space for everyone.” 

“Uh, yeah—thanks, J.” You blurted, catching Kie’s now wide eyed gaze with one of your own. Even Pope’s eyebrows raised in surprise, but JJ stayed clueless, tapping out a mindless pattern atop your thighs as John B pulled back out onto the road. 

He even helped you out of the van when you finally got to the boneyard, guiding you with a hand on the small of your back until your feet were planted firmly in the gravel before winking at you and going to help the boys unload the keg. 

“I told you he liked you!” Kie hissed, materializing at your side. You clamped a hand over her mouth, checking to see that the boys hadn’t heard anything before yanking her a good distance down the beach. “Okay, that was uncalled for.” 

“Sorry, I just—I don’t want JJ to know about how I feel.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because it’s embarrassing? Because it would ruin our friendship? Because he doesn’t feel the same way? Pick a reason, Kie!” You shot back, counting them off on your fingers. 

“I’m telling you, he feels the same way. He pulled you onto his freaking lap, bitch! He winked at you! D’you need your eyes checked or something, or are you just that stubborn?” 

“No. No, I’m not gonna chance it.” 

“Will you just live a little?” 

“Drop it, Kie.” 

“But—” 

“It’s not gonna happen!” 

“What’s not gonna happen?” JJ chimed in, looking between you and Kie with an arched brow. 

“Nothing.” You said quickly, offering him what you hoped wasn’t too forced of a smile. If JJ noticed anything out of the ordinary, he didn’t say anything, instead just nodding and going to catch up with John B. You turned back to Kie, holding your hand out for her to take. “M’sorry for snapping at you. It’s just…complicated. I love you?” 

“Love you too.” She sighed, linking her fingers through yours. “C’mon, let’s get a drink and forget about all this.” You obliged, happy to knock a few drinks back to get a certain someone to stop running circles in your mind for once. 

You didn’t see JJ until much later in the night, after the sun had sunk below the horizon and the bonfire blazed bright in the darkness. 

“Hey.” His voice was soft in your ear, causing you to shiver involuntarily at his sudden close proximity. You echoed his greeting, hoping your voice wasn’t as breathless as you felt. “Can we talk? Somewhere quieter maybe?” 

You nodded, and he led you down the beach a little ways away. Not too far away from the crowd, but far enough so you could talk without having to yell over the noise. JJ’s palm on the small of your back was enough to burn a hole through the fabric of your top, radiating warmth through your body despite the cool breeze coming off the ocean. 

“Right. So, there’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about, and I really think I need to tell you before I explode. And uh, you can totally tell me to fuck off if I’ve read the situation all wrong.” He snatched the hat off his head, raking his fingers through his hair a few times before putting it back on. You’d come to learn that it was something he did any time he was nervous. 

“Everything okay, J?” 

“Yeah. Yeah, no, I’m good.” He breathed, forcing out a chuckle. “I’m just—I’m just gonna come out and say it then. I’m into you. Like, a lot. And I know we have the whole ‘no Pogue on Pogue macking’ thing, so I get it if you don’t wanna make things weird—like, that’s cool, I just…felt like I needed to tell you.” 

You were stunned beyond words. JJ felt the same way about you that you did about him. He loved you back. 

JJ must’ve taken your silence as some sort of rejection because he forced out a hollow chuckle, linking his fingers behind his head, wandering a few paces away. He looked like he wanted to kick himself. “God, I’m…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—this was a shitty idea and I’m just gonna go now so I don’t embarrass myself any more.”

He moved to walk past you back towards the bonfire, but you caught him by the arm before he could, surging forward and pressing your lips against his firmly. 

If he was surprised he did a great job at hiding it, because the way he kissed you back felt like he’d been waiting for this moment his whole life. Much like most of the things JJ did, he put his everything into kissing you, cupping your face in his hands almost like it was second nature to hold you like he was. 

As cliche as it sounded, it didn’t feel like a first kiss with him. It felt like you were attuned to each other, already subconsciously knowing what to do even though you’d never dared do it before. 

JJ, albeit hesitantly, was the one to break away first, barely an inch between the two of you as his tongue darted out to wet his lips before daring to speak. “But…the rule?” 

“When have you ever followed the rules, Maybank?” You tilted your head at him, raising an eyebrow in challenge. JJ held your gaze steady while his fingers danced a path down your arm. 

“Never.” 

“Then why start now?” 

JJ perked up at your words, lips quirking into that damn troublemaker’s grin that endeared you to no end. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Okay then. Cool.” 

“Cool.” 

Neither of you needed to put into words what you were going to be from now on, because it didn’t have to be said for it to be something. You knew. JJ knew. And when everyone else saw JJ’s arm slung around your shoulders the whole night, the way you looked at each other like two crazy kids in love, they knew too.

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[rei-ismyname]

X-FACTOR 2020 Highlights 1

The Krakoan X-Factor was a fantastic little book, though it unfortunately was cancelled at short notice due to factors outside creator control after only 10 issues. On the positive side, those 10 issues were excellent. This post will be all issue #1 because it's one of the best team building issues I've ever read and lays a very solid foundation for what comes next. It's also a very queer book.

Issue one is all about building the team and the premise. Wasting no time, the first page is a splash of Northstar sensing Aurora's death via twin telepathy. He immediately flies to Arbor Magna and demands the Five bring her back, pissing off everyone in the process.

He follows Hope's advice and learns the last place she was seen was the Green Lagoon, but hits a dead end. Fortunately Lorna overhears and throws in, neo-noir style. Daken happens to be lying on the floor and joins the team too, though they aren't very happy to have him. The three put the word out via flyer and the band assembles!

Rachel Summers, the recently resurrected Prodigy, and... EYE BOY round out the squad bringing the number up to 6 + Amazing Baby, Rachel's warwolf that Betsy gave her in the pages of Excalibur. Prodigy uses his superpowers of common sense and deduction and they're off to Bellingham, Washington.

Rachel uses her oft-forgotten Chronoskimming to see Aurora's most recent moments in a motel room she rented while Daken 'interviews' the guy at the front desk and the team start to explore how their powers interact/pick up clues.

By their powers combined they track down the barrier Aurora smashed through into the water. Eye Boy earns his keep by narrowing down which of the many underwater cars it could be and Polaris pulls them out of the water. Plates are matched with the motel rental receipt and voila! Interestingly it's Daken who pulls Northstar back from searching for his sister's corpse directly, signposting his arc will be one of emotional and social growth. He has the skills, he just hasn't been using them.

Northstar rushes off and *ahem* presents proof of death to the Five. Luckily the Five understand he's going through some shit and his team has his back. The best X-Men stories are about found family and soap opera, and this ad hoc team has plenty of both.

Daken and Northstar's clash of personalities starts to soften a little and the rest of the team get their CSI: Krakoa on in front of the Quiet Council. Despite Emma's scorn, their impressive display turns out to be a job interview.

Turns out there's a lot of missing and dead mutants or just people lacking proof of death. Resurrection protocols stress avoiding resurrecting 'dupes' and so far the labor involved handling it informally is disrupting The Five's workflow. They're swamped. The team's actions demonstrated a need for X-Factor and their suitability for the mission.

The Quiet Council approves and X-Factor is (re)born! Lorna, despite having lead X-Factor before, knows she's not in a space for leadership right now, nominating Northstar and unofficially becoming his XO. In a nod to Polaris' inconsistent characterisation over the decades, she renders Magneto speechless by asking him to describe her personality. Lorna's arc is established as one of self actualisation and coming to terms with the difficulty of being Lorna Dane AND Magneto's daughter - no dancing around the fact he's been a shitty parent. However, he is trying to be better. Krakoa is a fresh start for all.

Lorna calls back to Giant-Size X-Men, speaking directly to Krakoa about their long history (she yeeted it into space if you didn't know.) Together, they build The Boneyard, X-Factor's headquarters and living space. The Five drop by with a gift and Forge shares his invention of fleet seeds, allowing anyone to submit a case to X-Factor. The Boneyard immediately fills with pink bubbles/cases and they realise they have a lot of work ahead of them - validating their commitment and giving them all purpose.

As I said in the intro, X-Factor #1 is one of the best team building issues I've ever read. Aurora's death is the inciting incident on page one and the team is formed by page three. Instead of stretching the investigation out into the first arc/five issues, it's resolved in 1 and we get to explore the team dynamic and workflow in real time. They don't need to grow into individual competence because they're already there. It's a strong statement that the investigations are a backdrop for character work and growing into an unlikely team/family unit.

Two of the issues are part of X of Swords. An event crossover usually threatens to knock a limited series off course but the connectivity inherent to The First Krakoan Age (plus X-Factor's links to the Five and Quiet Council) instead provide opportunity to explore existing themes and put the characters through the wringer. But I'm getting ahead of myself - that is a subject for part 2.

Next time - war, murder, and ACAB. Plus, Aurora's back!

[hanasnx]

reader at a party w jj and makes eye contact w rafe and starts teasing him by grinding on jj

MINORS DNI 18+ WARNINGS: f!reader | dirty dancing | jealousy | intoxication.

"That's it, sugar, that's it. Move your hips jus' like that." JJ MAYBANK tells you, rough hands on your hips that guide you in the circles you draw with them. "Gettin' better," he praises, keeping his eyes on your ass in your little shorts. Full of his encouragement and alcohol, you raise your red solo cup above your head as you arch back into him, laying your head against his shoulder. He can tell you're tipsy, all loose with your body as you slowly grin at him.

"I missed you so much, Jayj." you fawn, and JJ reaches over you to pluck your drink from your hand. You don't realize he's taking it from you, instead you're grateful for the free hand, turning so you could sling both arms around his neck. "Such a good teacher." you commend, and lean in, brushing your nose against his. "And so cute too." Him and his backwards cap, and gray wifebeater, were always cute to you. Even his thin beat-up backpack he wears, the straps accentuating his exposed rotator cuffs you just want to claw into. He balances you securing his forearm around your waist, and downs the rest of your drink before tossing the solo cup with the others. Boneyard cleanup'll happen later, right now he's focused on you.

Accidentally, more of your weight gains on him, and he braces his legs to keep you upright, "Easy there, girl, don't wanna get ahead of yourself." You release him to turn back around, and join the chorus of mindless cheers that partygoers chime in unison. He handles the crook of your torso, drawing you to his side. "You doin' okay? How're we feelin'?"

You bounce, shooting both your hands in the air. "I'm having so much fun!" You sway in place, and he takes it upon himself to slot back behind you like before, leaving a couple inches of respectful space in between. As soon as you look forward, you spot a familiar face. RAFE CAMERON uncharacteristically laughs with his friends, a solo cup in his hand while his other is stuffed in his pocket. You hadn't seen him in a while, and you feel a twinge of annoyance at the fact he showed up even if a keg party is open to everyone. Briefly, you entertain the thought he came to see you. The idea unconsciously sews you closer to JJ.

As if he can sense your gaze on him, he scans across the sea of people, landing on you as you're tangled up in one of his mortal enemies. His expression hardens and you conjure a devious plan. You seek out JJ's hands, directing them as you see fit, back on your hips as you press back into him. He grunts softly in your ear as soon as your ass makes contact with his crotch, and you smirk to yourself. Pride swells your chest at the sight of Rafe gripping his cup a little tighter, taking a swig as you roll your body on JJ like a trained dancer, just like he showed you how to. You encourage JJ's roaming hands while you bend your knees, lowering yourself on him as you grind. At first, he'd given you the reigns, but now that he sees you're comfortable, you can feel him getting into it. He's moving in sync with you, and you check back in with Rafe who's ignoring his friend's tapping fingers.

"Fuck, baby, what're you doin' to me?" JJ breathes, and you snicker. Boys are so easy. You can feel him harden behind you, and you get another evil idea. However, your fun is short-lived, because Rafe is walking over right now.

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Number 13 with JJ please🥹🥹🥹

‘‘Was it a good weird or a bad weird? Because that’s two totally different things.’‘ 

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

During a drunken evening at the boneyard, you and JJ crossed the friendship lines and now you didn’t know what to do. A part of you wanted to bring it up, but another wished it never happened. Besides JJ’s lips on yours and the sand that fell from your shirt in the morning, you couldn’t recall much from that night.

Sarah’s jaw dropped when you told her and Kiara gasped, not expecting this kind of juicy story this early on a Sunday. ‘’You kissed JJ?!’’

You kept your eyes down and played with the tassel of your decorative pillow. ‘’If my memories are correct, yes.’’ It was your first time saying it out loud and you felt like throwing up. Or, maybe that was your hangover.

‘’How did it happen?’’ Sarah asked with a curious grin, begging for the whole story.

‘’Did he try to woo you with his terrible pick up lines? Or tell you that fake story about how he got the shark tooth?’’

Sarah laughed. ‘’The one he tells all the tourons?’’

Kiara nodded, joining Sarah with the laughing.

If you hadn't been so anxious about the whole situation, you would’ve laughed too. It was known among the group that JJ’s flirting techniques were terrible. You all wondered how girls fell for his shit when it was so obvious that he was lying to get them in his bed.

‘’I don’t know!’’ you said in complete honesty, your memories a complete black hole. A sigh left your lips. ‘’We were drunk and he was there and suddenly— I don’t want that stupid kiss to ruin our friendship. I care a lot about JJ and I can’t lose him over a drunken mistake.’’

The girls’ faces softened, realizing how upset the kiss made you.

‘’Don’t think too much into this, okay? It’s JJ,’’ Kiara reminded while Sarah pulled you in a hug. ‘’He was probably just as drunk.’’

‘’Maybe he doesn't even remember,’’ the blonde added. 

A few days passed and neither you or JJ brought up the drunken kiss. He definitely remembered, though. Every time you were in the same room, his eyes averted yours.

You tried to not let the new distance between you and JJ ruin the whole group dynamic, but something was off and everyone could feel it. You had only told the girls, but John B. seemed to be suspecting something.

‘’I'll go with,’’ JJ suggested, moving to get out of the twinkie, trying to get away from being alone with you.

John B. stopped him. ‘’No need. I have two hands. I don't need another two more to carry beers and a bag of chips. I'll be quick.’’

You both sat in silence in the twinkie, waiting for John B. to return. Silences were never uncomfortable with JJ, but this one was the longest and heaviest silence of your life. Maybe you should have walked to the chateau instead of accepting to be picked up.

‘’Hey, Y/N?’’

Your heart jumped in your chest when you heard JJ’s voice. You composed yourself and turned your head toward him over the front seat.

JJ continued. ‘’You know the other night at the boneyard? We got kinda drunk and...something weird happened with us.’’

‘’You mean when we kissed?’’ you said, purposely using the word he was avoiding. ‘’You can say the word, J, you’re not going to get cursed.’’

‘’I know.’’ He looked down, nervously fiddling with the bottom of his shirt. ‘’It was just weird.’’

‘’Yeah,’’ you agreed. ‘’It was weird for me too, but…’’ You shifted seats, sitting behind the driver seat so there was less space between you and JJ. His left arm was resting on the backrest and you played with one of his bracelets. ‘‘Was it a good weird or a bad weird? Because that’s two totally different things.’‘ You flicked your eyes up, hoping to meet JJ’s, but he was still looking down.

‘’No. Not bad weird.’’ His chest heaved as he breathed, his bottom lip caught with his teeth.

You leaned in and he lifted his head, his face — and lips — only a few inches from yours. You wanted to touch him again, and taste his lips again.

You thought this would be it, that he would close the space between you, but JJ's breath hitched as he started to freak out. ‘’What are we doing? We shouldn't be doing this.’’ He turned his head to face the window, away from you. 

‘’Don’t do this. Please.’’ You grabbed his arm, refusing to let the conversation ends. ‘’I know you push people away and freak when people get close, but don’t push something away just because you’re scared. I’m scared too, but life — and love — is living in spite of those things that scare you to death because something beautiful and fucking amazing could come out of it.’’ 

Your words seemed to have gotten through him because he turned again, a veil of fear over his face. Love — whether it be loving someone or being loved — was not a concept JJ was familiar with. He grew up without the love of a parent — a child’s primary source of love —, receiving a shower of hatred and occasional kicks and punches instead. You couldn't blame him for pushing people away and being scared of feelings. It's new to him, and everyone gets scared when they have to deal with something new and foreign.

 Fortunately for him, you were there to show and teach him a side of life he never got to experience.

You leaned over the seat, about to connect your lips with JJ’s, but John B. opened the door, snapping you and JJ out of your moment.

‘’I couldn't find the brand of chips you liked, so I picked something else—’’ He glanced between you and JJ, noticing how close you were. ‘’Am I interrupting something?’’ 

—

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[artbyblastweave]

An aesthetic decision I really like about the Mad Max setting- focusing on Fury Road in particular here- is that the timeline and the setting deliberately defy coherence. Countless elements of our world have carried over- the guns, the vehicles, the musical instruments, the religious concepts, and nominally some of the actual people- but the world is geographically impossible, you don't see much contemporary architecture even in a ruined state, and there's no version of the timeline where this can be the same Max Rockatansky as the original films. But it is. The incongruities are deliberate. The setting is mythic, these are campfire tales told about Max, the King Arthur or the Omnipresent Jack figure of the new age. The world that was is swallowed in myth, the world that exists is borrowing some of the old world toys, and being up-front and bombastic with signifiers of the mythic and abstracted nature of the setting absolves you of the need to make the worldbuilding make sense- or rather, to make it make sense in the way you'd have to take a stab at if you had a year-by-year internal worldbuilding timeline of How Everything Went Down.

Fallout 1 is not exactly like this. It can't be, because you could kill a man with an overhead swing of the setting bible. But it's tapping into a similar impulse. People in the first game are using old world tech, but they don't really live in the old world; they live in settlements using materials scavenged from the old world, or in old world towns that were unimportant enough back then that their current identity totally overwrites whatever came before. They don't live in LA: They live in the Boneyard, which gives you a pretty good idea of how much of what we think of as "LA" would be recognizable as such if we were exploring the space in first-person perspective. When you encounter an area that has a direct, well-documented, and unambiguous connection to the old world, it's a Big Deal, and they're hard places to get to- places that the average person living their life in the wastes would die trying to access. Of particular note in this dynamic is The Brotherhood of Steel- for all their technical understanding of the knowledge they hoard, they've clearly seems to have undergone a few rounds of Canticle-style cultural telephone, mutating from Recognizably The American Military into a knightly order. Fallout 2 does this to a lesser extent- it has more settlements directly named after their pre-war counterparts- but it's also a game about a society that's starting to pull back together and form into something resembling the old world, for better or for worse. And it reproduces the trend of stuff with a direct, legible connection to the old world being inscrutable and dangerous to outsiders- specifically with the reveal that the Enclave consider themselves to be the direct continuation of the pre-war government, that they've just kept electing presidents out on that stupid little oil rig. I haven't really made up my mind on whether the timeframes of the games- 84 years followed by 164 years- actually work for the vibe they're going for, in particular it doesn't work with Arroyo- but on the whole, the vibe coheres.

You get into the 3d games, and it becomes much harder to continue to pull this off. One major tool that Fallouts 1 and 2 used to maintain that sense of abstraction was the overland travel map; you were visiting island of society in a vast sea of Nothing. You had encounter cells that consisted of burnt-out, looted shells of cities, maybe good for a camp site but not as anything else. Another important tool towards this end was the isometric camera angle. In a topdown worldspace you can scrub out a lot of environmental details that would be immediately recognizable to the player as artifacts of our present society if you were exploring the space in 1st person. The examine button can feed you vague, uncertain descriptions that convey enough detail to make the item recognizable while also conveying that there's been a level of information decay. Once you move into a 3d worldspace you lose both of these elements- the worldspace is what it is, I can walk across it in eleven minutes stripping it for loot as I go. I can read every sign on every still-standing building, and I've got eyeballs on every old-world bit-and-bobble with a handy interface description of what I'm looking at. And you hit random encounters in the 3d games at basically the same rate, in real-world time, that you did in the isometrics- but the isometrics could successfully abstract it out to represent that you were hitting something noteworthy every couple of weeks, while in the 3d games it's kinda inescapable that you keep getting jumped every single day walking back and forth up the same stretch of road. Not only is it recognizable, it's cramped.

I think that Fallout 3, to its credit, did a decent job of navigating this and trying to maintain the islands-in-a-sea-of-nothing vibe from the isometrics- most of the settlements are built slapdash in places that were obviously never intended for long-term human habitation (bomb craters, overpasses, suburbs), the landmark-heavy city proper is textually a difficult-to-navigate deathtrap, and the poison-sky green filter, memeworthy as it is, does help shore up the impression that you're inviting death by trying to move through the space. Fallout: New Vegas I think addresses this by going in the total opposite direction; It's set in an area of the country where the infrastructure was abnormally well preserved, and the pre-war culture was revived artificially, and from a thematic standpoint it's really interested in digging into the implications of those two things. The fact that the lonely-empty-decontextualized-void aesthetic isn't long for this world dovetails well with the cowboy themes. They have a fair number of future-imperfect context-collapse gags but they don't overdo it by any stretch of the imagination.

Fallout 4, from many directions, is sort of catching the worst of the heat here. The world is recognizable, aggressively so. In fairly-authentically recreating the suburban sprawl of the Northeast, Bethesda simply surrounded the inhabitants of the commonwealth with too much Boston for a sense of true distance from our world to be possible. Everyone still has the accents. They still know the names of all the old neighborhoods. They're still doing the "Park your car" bit. It's still Boston. And it's a busy Boston, too- you can't throw a rock without hitting a farming settlement that's doing well enough to attract tribute-seeking bandits. It's densely packed with points of interest, and those points of interest are packed to the brim with salvageable materials that, going off of the new crafting system, should be in enormous demand to the people who've been living in this area for 210 years. The game doesn't really advance a satisfying explanation, even an aesthetic explanation like fallout 3's poison sky, for why everything around you hasn't been stripped clean before you even came off the ice, why all these environmental storytelling tableaus are just waiting for you to find. It doesn't spend nearly enough time hammering out what the 200-year chronology of the most-livable area seen in a Fallout game looks like- Why don't you see something comparable to the NCR emerging? Something something CPG massacre (which is mentioned twice in the whole game, AFAICT.) And what's being lost here, right, is the ability to use the sands of time to smooth over rough spots in the worldbuilding, in the chronology. You can't hide behind the idea that the world you're experiencing is mythologized. It's presented as real, and it doesn't make much sense if it's real!

And to top it off- Fallout 4 probably has the highest density of characters who were actually there, by some means or another. The Vault Tec rep, Daisy, The Triggermen, Nick Valentine, Eddie Winter, the vault 118 inhabitants, Arlen Glass, Oswald, Kent Connolly, The whole of Cabot House, Captain Zao, The kid in the goddamn fridge and his goddamn parents, and uh. The big one. You. You, the player. Which is such a goddamn splinter under my skin, from a storytelling perspective. You were present in the before-times- but only nominally, only to the exact degree necessary to establish that that was the case. The ugly shit is alluded to, but not incorporated into the character's day-to-day in a way that's obvious to the player, you're there for like six minutes and it's pretty nifty if you overlook that bit at the end where everyone got nuked. Your ability to talk about the world before is always vague, vacuous, superficial. The dirty laundry you dig up on terminals around Boston never seems to meaningfully impact your character's worldview, their impressions of the then and the now. All of which combine to make this the simultaneously the most specific but also the most frustratingly vague game in the series. At its best, Fallout's love of juxtaposing the then and the now would make it a great setting for the Rip Van Winkle routine. But it requires a strong, strong understanding of what the world was like before and after, a willingness to use the protagonist to constantly grind the jagged edges of those things against each other, a protagonist with a better-defined outlook than Bethesda's open-ended-past approach allowed for- and it has to be in service of a greater point. And for Fallout 4 to do anything with any of that, the game would have to be about something instead of being something for you to do. Maddening. Maddening.

[rafesbabygirlx]

In Loving Memory of JJ

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Summary: Months after losing JJ, you're finally ready to step into the house you grew up in with him and go through some items to hold as keepsakes for Vivienne. A drabble from my series A Lot of Time has Passed.

A/N: what's the point of my series if I don't make a post honoring JJ. I'm gonna miss him so much next season. :(

Warnings: nothing but sadness

The afternoon sun streamed through the worn curtains of JJ bedroom, casting soft, golden rays across the room. Dust particles floated lazily in the beams, their slow dance almost reverent in the quiet space. The room felt frozen in time—the bed unmade, fishing rods propped up in the corner, and his favorite cap hanging on the bedpost, the fabric frayed at the brim from countless adventures under the relentless Carolina sun. You haven’t been back in your house since you’ve gotten back from hunting Groff. It’s been months and you’ve finally brought yourself to make it past the driveway. You’d make Rafe turn back home every time before. 

You sat cross-legged on the wooden floor, old floorboards creaking beneath your weight, with Vivienne perched on your lap. She toyed with the hem of her dress, eyes wide and curious as she took in the room, so full of memories and stories she was too young to remember. You glanced down at her, into her bright blue eyes, of course she got them from Rafe, but the softness in them always reminded you so much of JJ’s and that it made your heart ache. You knew you needed to tell her who he was—the uncle she would never grow up and make memories with but should always remember him for exactly who he was. Even if she didn’t quite understand now. You’d have no problem telling her over and over again as she grew. 

“This,” you said, voice wavering as you picked up a cracked Polaroid photo from the pile of belongings scattered on the floor, “is my favorite photo of your Uncle J. The bravest, wildest, most loyal person I’ve ever known.” The picture showed JJ at the Boneyard, grinning from ear to ear with his arms thrown around John B and Pope. They looked carefree, a trio bound by loyalty and a brotherhood forged by the rough edges of life on the Cut.

“He liked treasure,” you whispered, more to yourself than to her, the memory carrying you back to the nights JJ would burst through the door with sand still clinging to his skin, eyes bright with excitement as he spun wild tales of their latest adventure. “He and his friends—they were always searching for something. Gold, yes, but it was more than that. They wanted freedom, something better than what the island wanted to give them.”

Your daughter’s tiny fingers reached for the Polaroid, and you let her hold it, watching as she inspected the faded image with a solemnity that seemed far beyond her years.

“He was strong,” you said, eyes drifting to the board in the corner with notes pinned haphazardly—maps scrawled with routes, plans for the next great scheme. “He fought hard for the people he loved. He would’ve protected you, sweetheart. He would’ve made you laugh until your sides hurt and taken you out on the boat, showing you the stars and telling you stories about them.”

Your gaze shifted to the corner of the room where an old motorcycle helmet sat, its surface scratched and worn. “And he loved motorbikes,” you added, a soft smile breaking through the grief. “He’d ride that old bike down to the beach with the wind in his hair, reckless and free. It was his escape, his way of feeling alive when the weight of everything got too heavy.” You could almost hear the roar of the engine, the laughter that followed as he raced down backroads with John B chasing behind, whooping with joy.

“He said there was nothing like it,” you continued, eyes misty as you remembered his words. ‘When you’re on the bike, it’s just you and the road, like the world falls away.’”

A knot formed in your throat as you lifted a small shark tooth necklace from the pile, one JJ had worn more days than not. You placed it gently around your daughter’s neck, the string almost comically large on her tiny frame. She looked up at you, wide-eyed and confused, and you smiled, a tear slipping down your cheek.

“He used to say,” you continued, voice breaking, ‘It’s us against the world, always.’” You brushed her curls away from her face and kissed her forehead. “And even though he’s not here, I hope you carry that with you. Be brave, be kind, and always look out for your friends—just like he did.”

The room fell into a peaceful silence, the echoes of JJ’s laughter seeming to hang in the air. Your daughter leaned back against you, clutching the Polaroid tightly. In that moment, surrounded by the remnants of your brother’s life—the sand, the sea, and the stories—you knew that JJ’s spirit would always be with you both, carried in the stories you told and the memories you kept alive.

You didn’t notice Rafe standing in the doorway, watching you as you wiped away your tears. When you stood up, holding Vivienne in your arms and packing a box of things you wanted to keep, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around you. His embrace was strong and steady, and as you buried your face in his chest, the weight of your grief spilled over. He held you tightly, silently, as you cried into his chest for what felt like forever, until the room felt a little less empty.

When the moment passed and your tears had run dry, he followed you outside, where the Pogues were waiting. They stood together, their expressions heavy with shared sorrow. You couldn’t find the words, but they understood, their eyes speaking the silent language of loss.

Rafe took a breath and stepped forward. “I know you don’t like me,” he began, his voice steady but raw. “I know you don’t like having me around. But JJ’s gone, and I need you to know that Y/N  and Vivienne mean everything to me. I want you here, as much as you’ll allow it. To keep his memory alive for her. To be the aunts and uncles she needs—not by blood, but by choice.”

The group listened, their guarded expressions softening. “Thank you,” Rafe said, glancing at each of them. “Thank you for being the people you are, for being there for her. She’s lucky to grow up with you all around.”

A quiet nod from John B, a watery smile from Kie, and the unspoken promise of family settled between you all. You mouth them a grateful, “thank you” for not only being there for you but for listening to Rafe. In that moment, the weight of grief shifted, just a little, shared by those who loved JJ the most.

[writingwithciara]

Safe & Sound ~Rafe Cameron~

summary: at a boneyard party, rafe catches a random touron drugging y/n’s drink when she’s not looking. they aren’t friends and they’ve never said a word to each other so why would he decide to save her? 🤷🏻‍♀️

word count:3.6k

pairing: rafe cameron x reader

warning: mention of drugs, fluff

a/n:  kinda sorta canon rafe, but also sorta not. idk. had this saved in my drafts since i started this writing blog & thought it was about time to finally get it out on the site

masterlist

"We're throwing a party at the Boneyard tonight & JJ is insisting that you come." Kiara followed y/n around her dad's store as she continued stocking shelves.

"I wish I could, Kie. But I'm swamped here. My dad's got me closing up tonight & I can't ditch my responsibilities again. Not after what happened last time." y/n narrowed her eyes at her best friend.

"It's not my fault you fucked JJ in the storage room and didn't lock the doors. That was your mistake."

"You said you'd cover the counter for me."

"Oh, shit. You're right. I'm sorry." Kiara stopped her friend. "I'm sure your dad will make an exception for this. It's a big night. It's your best friends birthday."

"It's not your birthday." y/n chuckled.

"Okay, you're right. But we can tell him it's JJ's birthday. I don't think he knows when that is."

"My dad is not the biggest fan of JJ. Hasn't been since that night, you know. But maybe we can use Pope. He loves Pope." y/n placed the final can on the shelf. "I'll call him right now."

After conversing with her father for less than a minute, y/n and Kiara were closing up the store and heading to the Boneyard.

"Hey, you made it. I was starting to think Kiara had failed to get you here when she texted me earlier. Glad your dad let you go early." JJ smiled when y/n approached him. He handed her a drink and she took it quickly.

"He only let me go because I told him it was Pope's birthday." she smiled. "I'm quite surprised he fell for it. You'd think since he loves Pope that'd he know when his actual birthday is."

"Guess you were wrong." JJ took a sip of his drink. "Why didn't you just tell him it was my birthday?"

"He's not a big fan of you right now. Especially not after the other night."

"That was a fun night."

"It really was, wasn't it?" y/n looked around the boneyard and only recognized 4 people. "Geez, did you only invite tourons or something?"

"No. We invited pretty much all the teenagers on the island, even the kooks." JJ looked at her. "It was Sarah's idea."

"Oh that's just fantastic. One more group of people I don't want to see right now."

"What do you mean?"

"Tourons have been bugging me all week at the store. Stupid fucking rich brats." she shook her head. "All I want to do this weekend is hang out with you, Kie & Pope." y/n tipped her head back and finished her drink. "I need another one."

JJ handed her another cup of alcohol before the words were even out of her mouth. Y/n accepted it and continued to suck down the beverage.

An hour later, she had lost track of JJ and was dancing by herself. On her 5th beer, she looked around the party, noticing the kooks were already filling in the empty spaces, making the party more occupied than it was before.

On the other side of the party, Rafe stood alone with a drink in his hand. Aside from his friends, he only saw 2 others he recognized at the party. The rest of the partygoers were tourons.

He saw JJ with some random girl and then he spotted y/n dancing by herself. The girl looked like she was having the time of her life and that put Rafe at ease. He's never said a word to her and their separate groups never got along but he's seen her around the island before and he thought she was cute for a pogue.

While he watched her dance to the beat of her own drum, he also watched all the male tourons gather around her. Most of them were just there to watch her but while her head was turned to talk to one of them, another one hovered his hand over her drink and dropped something in. Rafe noticed this but didn't want to make a scene around y/n so he watched the touron very closely. When he was alone, Rafe approached him.

"What did you put in y/n's drink?"

"Excuse me?"

"What did you put in that girls drink back there? Did you drug her?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, bro. I don't know who you're referring to either. I'm just here to have a good time."

"You think spiking the drink of some girl counts as having a good time? If so, you're just pathetic." Rafe stepped closer to the guy, only now realizing how big the dude was. He took a quick look around but couldn't find y/n anywhere. "Where is she? Did one of your friends take her somewhere, huh?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You put something in y/n's drink and now she's gone. So are some of your friends. I swear, if anything happens to her, I'm going to find you and it's not going to be good for you."

"Like I'm afraid of you." the touron chuckled and went to walk away, but Rafe beat him to it. Adrenaline took over all of his instincts and he punched the guy in the face and when he doubled over, Rafe kneed him in the face. Luckily they weren't around a whole lot of people around so if he wanted to, he could make an easy escape.

Unfortunately for him, the touron called for his friends. They gathered around Rafe and one of them held him back while the main touron began throwing punches. The crowd began to grow and the remaining tourons were keeping Kelce and Topper from helping their friend. It wasn't until a gunshot rang throughout the air that the tourons let Rafe go and ran off. Kelce ran to help his friend off the ground and Topper looked to see who had fired the gun. He was not expecting to see JJ lowering it.

"JJ, what the hell is wrong with you, man?"

"Are you seriously getting mad at me for saving Rafe? I didn't have to fire the gun, you know."

"I know. Sorry." Topper helped Kelce with Rafe and looked at his friend. "What the hell happened, dude?"

"The guy...tried to...drug..."Rafe closed his eyes.

"Who did he try to drug?"

"Y/n....he tried to drug y/n."

JJ stormed off and Topper assumed he was going after the touron. Kelce put Rafe in the back of his truck and took the keys from him before climbing in the driver's seat. Topper got in the passenger side & looked back at Rafe.

"So, why did you try to beat up a guy who was so much bigger than you, just because of y/n?"

"It's not right that he tried to drug her." he shook his head. "She's kind of cute though, isn't she?"

"How much did you have to drink, man?" Kelce questioned.

"A few beers. Why?"

"You just called a pogue cute." Topper chuckled. "You're clearly drunk."

"So what if I am?" Rafe looked out the window and wiped the blood from his cheek. "Maybe she's not so bad."

On the other side of the island, JJ was at y/n's window. He had shown up at her place a few minutes ago with blood dripping from his lip and a bruised cheek. After he heard Rafe say that the touron drugged y/n's drink, he found the guy and tried fighting him.

He was lucky enough to walk away with only a few marks and he made it all the way to y/n's bedroom. She was in the bathroom getting the first-aid kit so she could clean him up.

"So, are you going to tell me what kook did this?" y/n smiled as she re-entered the bedroom. She set the kit down, pulled out the rag and poured alcohol on it.

"It wasn't a kook. It was a touron." he winced when she wiped the blood off his lip. "He was huge and had like 4 friends with him."

"Why did you think that fighting them would be a good idea? Are you an idiot?"

"Not entirely." he looked up at her. "After he and his friends beat up Rafe, Topper asked why it happened & Rafe mentioned that the big guy drugged your drink. So I went after him."

"Rafe fought him too? Why would he do that?"

"Something about seeing the guy put something in your drink. I guess it set him off and he thought he could handle 5 guys at once."

Although it sounded strange to her, y/n couldn't help but smile a little. "Is he stupid? Why would a kook risk his life for me? Especially one that has never said a word to me. That's ridiculous."

"I don't know. Maybe he thinks you're hot or something." JJ just shrugged and leaned against the pillow on y/n's bed. She put the kit back in the bathroom and laid beside him. "He wouldn't be wrong to think that though. You really are hot."

"Thanks, JJ." she looked at him and smiled. "I need you to promise me something."

"What's that?"

"Never get in a fight with someone who's bigger than you, just to protect me."

"Okay, fine." he chuckled. "I just really care about you."

"And I care about you, JJ." she smiled and cuddled up next to him. "Thank you for being you."

"No problem, y/n." he smiled as they both drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, y/n woke up and JJ was already gone. She thought back to what JJ said last night and her mind couldn't help but picture what Rafe must've looked like after the fight.

After her shift at the store, y/n headed to Figure 8. She was hoping to find Rafe and talk to him but she had no idea which house was his so she walked to the country club where JJ worked. He wasn't on the schedule today so he would not be helpful, so y/n decided to wait for a little bit.

After an hour of waiting and not seeing Rafe or his friends, y/n was about to give up and go home. That is, until she spotted a familiar head of blonde hair.

"Hey, it's Topper, right?" she called out to him. He was with his mom but he stopped to look at y/n anyway, ignoring the look he was receiving from his mother.

"Yeah, that's me." he excused himself from his moms company and walked over to y/n. "What's up?"

"I was just wondering if you could tell me where Rafe was. I need to talk to him."

"I'm not sure he would like for me to divulge that information to just anyone." Topper looked her over. "But you're not just anyone, are you?"

"No, I guess I'm not." she looked down at her feet.

"He's under the docks. Likes to go there to look at the water & to be alone. It's kind of the only place his dad doesnt know about." Topper went to walk away but turned back. "If he asks, I did not say a single word to you. Got it?"

"Yes sir." y/n smiled as she parted ways with the Kook. She went down to the docks and sure enough, Rafe was exactly where Topper said he'd be. As she approached him, the shaking of his voice caught her off guard. He was talking to himself.

"Are you kidding? You're never gonna be good enough. Not for your dad. Not for your friends. Not even for any girl. Especially not her." he muttered. y/n looked at his back and sighed. Rafe must've been having a struggle with his own mind.

"Rafe?" her voice startled him, causing him to jump & almost land in the water.

"Jesus! Didn't your mother ever tell you not to sneak up on someone?"

"As a matter of fact, no. My dad did mention it once or twice though." she looked out at the water just as his gaze fell on her.

"So, what brings you to Figure 8?"

"Had to come talk to the guy who supposedly saved me last night."

"Oh. You heard about that?"

"Of course I did. JJ came to my house all beat up, talking about how he had to kick the crap out of the guy who tried to drug my drink. Then he told me that you were the one who initially tried."

"Yeah. I tried and failed to kick his ass. He called in his friends."

"Well, that's just not fair, is it?" she turned to him with a smile. "So why did you do it? Why would you go after a guy who spiked my drink?

"To be honest, I don't even know. Something just came over me, I guess." he shrugged and kicked at a can that the waves had washed up. "I mean, we've never even talked before right now. It was weird."

"Weird indeed." she bit her lip and looked around. A few moments of silence passed before Rafe decided to speak again.

"I was, uh," Rafe paused for a moment. "I was wrong about you."

"What do you mean?"

"I thought that since you were a pogue & such good friends with JJ that you'd be so much like him. But you're not. Maybe you're crazy, but the good kind of crazy." Rafe's frown turned into a small smile. But it vanished quickly when y/n looked at him. He thought she didn't see it but she definitely caught him.

"Rafe Cameron, are you trying to compliment me?"

"Yeah. Maybe." he chuckled. "Yeah. I was."

"Well then, how did it feel to compliment a pogue?" y/n raised an eyebrow and gave him a look.

"It was definitely a different feeling." he looked at her. "But honestly, I liked it. Especially because someone like you definitely deserves to be complimented."

"Okay. Truth time." she crossed her arms and leaned against one of the beams supporting the docks. "Did you try to beat up some touron last night for spiking my drink because you thought it was the right thing to do, or did you do it because maybe there's a part of you that thinks that everything your dad has told you your entire life is a lie?"

"I did it because," he took a deep breath and leaned next to her. "I felt some kind of strange feeling, kinda like I had to protect you & only you."

"Rafe, that's actually kinda sweet. Especially coming from you." y/n smirked and looked at him. The moonlight was reflecting off the water and for the first time that night, she could actually see the damage the tourons did to him. "Oh my goodness. Your face looks like shit. Did you even try to clean it up?"

"Kind of." he shook his head. "Kelce tried but apparently I wouldn't let him. So I tried to do it myself and as you can clearly see, it didn't work out so well."

"If you want, I can do it. I'm really good at patching people up. I am friends with JJ, after all."

"Okay. But can we do it at your place? My dad will kill me if I show up with a pogue." he immediately looked at her, thinking his words might've offended her. "Not that it's a bad thing. But you know how my father thinks."

"I get it. I understand." she looked at her watch. "My dad should be out right now. Let's go to my place." y/n walked away and waited for Rafe to follow her. When she felt his presence next to her, she continued her way to her house.

"Let's take my truck. It's a lot safer." he opened the door for her and she gave him a quizzical expression. "Just get in."

"Yes sir." y/n looked at him and got in. "I'll give you directions when we get onto that side of the island."

Minutes later, y/n was sneaking Rafe into her bedroom & sitting him down on her bed. She left him alone to go get the first aid kit from the bathroom & he glanced around her room. Everything was neat and organized, totally against what a pogue really was. When y/n returned to her room, Rafe was standing with his back to her, a picture in his hand.

"Is this you?" he turned to her and let her take a look.

"No. That's, um, my mom when she was my age. I found it when I was going through her old stuff." y/n set the photo & box down. Rafe instictively sat back on the edge of her bed as she pulled a chair up to work on him.

"What happened to her? Did she leave you?"

"In a way, yes." y/n dabbed the cloth on the dried blood around Rafe's lip, causing him to wince a little.

"What does that mean?"

"She didn't leave us by choice. I barely knew her though because she died when I was 3. Cancer." she reached behind her with her free hand to grab the anti-biotic ointment, applying some to another cloth, and rubbed it on his neck.

"Oh. I'm so sorry." he looked up. "I barely knew my mom too. But she didn't die. Just decided to leave us. And for a pogue who only wanted the money she had."

"That's horrible." y/n looked over the bruises and shook her head. "No wonder your dad hates pogues."

"He's the only one who really does. Sarah has John B & Wheezie just doesn't like to judge people on their economic or social class. Neither does Rose, sorta."

"And what about you? What do you think of pogues?"

"I think I was totally wrong about you guys. Here you are, fixing me up, even though the kooks have been horrible to you your entire life. And then there's JJ, who I thought was a total prick, who fired a gun to scare off the tourons who were kicking my ass last night. You're really not that bad."

"Neither are you, Country Club." y/n smiled to herself as she remembered the nickname Barry gave Rafe once. When Rafe chuckled at the name, it made y/n smile even more as she rubbed the last of the dried blood from his face. "There. Feeling any better?"

"Yeah. Thank you." he stood up and walked slowly to the door. Just as he was about to leave, he stopped himself. "This may sound weird but would it be at all possible to stay a little longer? I-I'm not ready to go home just yet."

"Of course. Make yourself at home." she walked over to him and smiled. "I'll go get us something to drink & maybe I'll get some food. Any preferences on either?"

"Just a beer, if you can get one. And if you have any kind of snack, I'd appreciate it. I don't care what it is."

"Got it. I'll be right back." she grabbed the first aid kit and walked out of the room.

Rafe took another look around the fairly large bedroom, taking in everything he didn't notice before. There were fairy lights hanging from her ceiling and another string of lights were on her wall with little polaroid pictures attached at every clip.

He looked at all of them and it unknowingly brought a smile to his face when he gazed upon one of her and JJ smiling like idiots. They looked like they were having fun, the type of fun Rafe wished he had the freedom to have.

Y/n returned a few minutes later with 2 beers and a bowl of chips. She handed him a bottle and he accepted it gratefully. "Do you wanna do something or do you want to sit here in silence while we eat and drink?"

"You ever play Never Have I Ever?"

"Yeah. JJ & I play it all the time." she smiled. "You wanna play?"

"Sure." he took a sip of his beer and started the game. For the next hour, Rafe & y/n went back and forth, slowly getting to know each other better. The rounds started out normal and innocent but the longer they played, the more the questions got personal. "Okay. Last one. Never Have I Ever....wanted to hook up with someone in this very room at one point in time."

y/n looked at him and took the last sip of her beer while Rafe finished his drink as well. They stared at each other for about 10 seconds. It was like each one of them was daring the other to do something they could possibly regret later.

To y/n's surprise, it was Rafe who took the initiative and made the first move. His lips collided with hers and the kiss was everything y/n was definitely not expecting.

Soft, sweet & gentle. Loving, even.

 When they pulled away from each other, Rafe had a smile. It was genuine and it was probably the happiest he'd been in a while. Y/n smirked at the boy in front of her.

"Damn, Cameron. Where'd you learn to kiss like that?"

"I have no idea." he chuckled. "I could ask you the same thing."

"Well, if you really like me, I'm sure you wouldn't like the answer."

"I think I know the answer." he looked back at her lips and it took all of his willpower to not kiss her again so soon. "You're lucky I really do like you, y/n."

"I really like you too, Rafe Cameron." she smiled and went against what her brain was thinking, following her heart instead as she pulled Rafe back into a very tender kiss.

It was everything both of them had subconsciously wanted for so long. They were both safe & sound as long as they were together.

[writingkeepsmewhole]

Shadows

This is part 7 of Snow In The Dark. I hope you like it :)

Fic Summary: Snow has never known who she was. Being raised in the streets made her strong but lonely. That changed when she met Jack them becoming as close as sisters. She thought she found her family. That all changes when she crashes on a planet with only one rule. Stay in the light.

Part Summary: Snow hides in the crashed ship with the rest of the others, only to learn that its not as safe as it seems.

Riddick x OC Snow

Warnings: Language. Mentions of death.

Part 1 Part 6

Let me know if you want to be tagged :P : @here4thespice @amarokofficial @backseat-serenade-dizzyhurricane @pinkcrystal44

The inside of the crashed ship was pitch black. It makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

Hearing a few clanks, a light floods the small space as they turn on a torch.

“She should have stayed down.” Jack says looking up at me is sad from seeing Sharon die. 

“If she only would have stayed down she would be okay. Like you.” She says, wrapping her arms around me in the middle burying her head in my chest.

“Shh, I know. I’m so sorry.” I say rubbing her back. Thinking of Riddick knowing if it wasn’t for him I would be dead. Very dead.

I don’t know what made him save me but I wasn’t going to question it. In fact I was wishing I knew a way to repay him.

“You remember the boneyard?” Johns asks, making me look at the man I was just thinking about.

I swore I could see a smirk settle on his face. I couldn’t help but wonder if he was thinking the same thing as me.

“This just might be the thing that killed everything else on this planet.”

“What are we gonna do now?” Jack asks, looking up at me.

“We are gonna stick together like we always do.” I say smiling at her.

“Is this the only light we have? Is this everything?” Paris asks.

“There's a cutting torch on the floor here somewhere.”

“Quite, please, everyone.” Iman says, him placing his ear on the door.

Jack moved away from me to do the same.

The wailing of the creatures outside being heard in the distance. I take a breath, feeling my heart drop knowing we are slowly getting surrounded.

“Why do they do that? Make that sound?” Jack asks.

“It’s how they see. With sound reflecting back. Letting them know where we are.” I answer everyone turning to me.

I jump along with everyone else when rattling sounds from behind me make me spin around to face the noise. Everyone is shining their lights trying to see what is going on.

“Could be a breach in the hull. I don’t know.” Carylon says softly.

“Oh great.” I mutter not wanting to think about how many of those things are in here with us.

“Come on, Johns. You got the big gauge.”

“I’d rather piss glass.” Johns says, making me snort.

“Of course you would.” I say, earning a glare from him.

“Why don’t you go fucking check?” He says, challenging me.

“I’m not staying here anymore.” Paris says before I can answer.

“Where are you going?” Johns asks spinning around to go after him.

“Hey! Hey!.” Johns says, the others stopping him from opening the door.

I ignore them easing closer to Riddick, him looking down at me, his eyes shining. He didn’t have to say anything. It was clear he didn’t want me to check out if there were any monsters in here with us.

I step closer to him, my stomach flipping as I do. Like standing on a tall ledge getting ready to jump. Pure adrenaline was pumping through me when I stood next to him.

He jerks his head for me to follow him, us getting closer to the group.

“Hurry!” Iman yells, him opening up a small closet for us to get into.

Riddick, herding me into it before slipping into it himself, the others rushing in as well.

“Now we are trapped in a much smaller space. I hate this” Paris says, making me roll my eyes.

‘At least we are not out there with it.’ I wonder how these people were going to survive.

My head snaps to Iman yelling at the creature outside stabbing through the door with its claw. Almost hitting his head.

‘Oh great it’s smart.’ I think, as Riddick leans down, lighting the cutting torch off Paris lighter makes him jump and look up at him.

I move closer to Riddick as he starts cutting a hole through the wall. Johns firing shots off at the door we just came through.

“Does it not realize these things like noise?” I ask, Riddick lifting his mouth in a smirk.

I smile glad he got my joke. 

He passes the torch to me as he kicks the newly made door open. A circle hole letting us out of the room and into a bigger part of the ship.

I crawl through it following him, Carylon and the others behind us. I pass her the torch, to help the others get through.

Jack latching onto me once more. I smile at her wrapping my arms around her to hold her close. Her eyes bounce around the room as the others start barricading the hole.

“Where is Riddick?” Johns asks, looking around.

Letting go of Jack I turn around to see Riddick has disappeared.

“I said," Where is Riddick?” Johns says again, making me realize he was talking to me.

“I don’t know. I don’t have a tracker on him.” 

“Go find him.” He says, gesturing  towards the dark ship.

I roll my eyes not wanting to cause an argument with Johns. It would be quieter if I just did as he asked. I didn’t want the creatures to find us again.

“Stay with the group. I’ll be right back.” I say to Jack.

I move to start easing into the darkness. Taking slow cautious steps. Feeling like we were in the cargo bay of the ship I moved past boxes and nets.

The more I walked the darker it got since I was getting away from the group's light source. Moving farther and farther away until I couldn’t hear or see them anymore.

I was submerged in complete darkness when I felt the feeling of being watched. Swallowing, I slow down, trying to listen harder. To see if I could hear anything around me.

I take a deep breath, when I feel arms wrap around me. A large hand covering my lips as I was pulled into a firm chest.

The growing familiar smell of Riddick invading my senses. I don’t know how I could relax and have my body heat up at the same time.

He doesn't say anything. Only uses his hand on my mouth to make me look up.

Looking up to see the movement of something. I blink a few times shocked when my vision clears enough to see the silhouette of a creature eating something.

I let him pull me back into the shadows. Into an even darker space if that was possible. Hidden for the beast. Or at least hidden enough that it cared about its meal more than us.

His hand falls from my face to my waist as he eases around me. Moving to stand in front of me. His large frame blocked me from view.

If I didn’t know any better I would say he was protecting me. But he wouldn’t do that? Would he?

Despite the question in my mind I reach up and grab the back of his tank top. Telling myself it was in case he took off I would know to follow. To run to safety but I would be lying if I didn’t find something comforting about touching him in some way.

I’ve definitely lost my mind it seems.

We stay like that for a moment or two waiting for an opening to slip away I’m guessing until one of Imen’s boys comes around the corner.

I feel my stomach drop knowing this is only going to end badly.

He lets out a gasp when the flesh of whatever the monster was eating falls in front of him. The creature makes a sound, turning to face us, clearly earring the boy.

“Extremely..bad..timing.” Riddick says slowly, easing out just enough for the boy to see him.

I knew I was blanked in darkness and Riddick’s body but It didn’t stop my heart from picking up. My gut telling me this was about to go south.

“Just don’t run.” Riddick says, sounding like he was barely moving his mouth. 

“Riddick?” Carylon says, hearing his voice.

“Don’t. Stop. Burning.” He answers her, him standing perfectly still.

I matched him, realizing he figured out something about these things. They could only see you when you moved.

Hearing the crate behind us move and creak as a creature climbs onto it I ease closer to Riddick. Pressing myself into him, not wanting to be close enough for that thing to sneak up and grab me.

Both of us look up watching the creature's claws grow. Riddick’s large hand reaches back finding my hip, him easing us sideways into the shadows once more. His hand doesn't leave my body once we are locked in place again.

I watch the claw snap out at the boy making him jump and take off running. The creature flying after him. Another creature killed him, and the two began to fight.

I gasp when Riddick grabs my shirt pulling me after him as he starts to run, letting go as soon as he knows I'm right on his heels.

We book it towards the group, the light in the distance. Hearing us coming the group turns, shining their lights at us, at Riddick. I hear him yell and watch as he falls over holding his face, but it’s not in time enough for me to trip and fall on him. Making him grunt. The creature flying over us right towards the others.

It screeches flying off as Johns starts shooting at it.

“I’m sorry.” I say, moving to get off him. Riddick pushes himself up standing next to me.

Everyone screams as the monster falls from the ceiling, all of them huddling around it. I stay back not wanting to be anywhere near the thing.

“Is it alive?” Carylon whispers.

“I hope so.” I answered her, the sound of sizzling filling the air.

“It’s like the light is scalding it.” Paris says as the flashlight moves over its dead body.

“It hurts them. The light hurts them.” She says.

Hearing more noises Iman calls for his child.

I looked at the floor knowing the kid was not going to answer.

“We’ll burn a candle for him later.” Johns says, making me want to throw something at him.

“Come on, let's get out of here.” He says turning to head back to kick open the next door way.

[secondtolastfr]

Since this new digsite is Nature-themed, I've been thinking about digsites for the remaining flights. As a reminder, we already have: Earth (Thunder Lizards) Wind (Ancient Aerie) Water (Deepsea Dive) Ice (Frozen Age) Nature (Fossilized Flora)

Which leaves: Fire Shadow Light Arcane Lightning Plague

Fire - I think it would be super cool to get a Pompeii-themed digsite for this. We could get cool statues, gladiator apparel, and themed centaur familiars. Maybe the gene could be something inspired from the pottery of the era. They could also lean into the mining/forging aesthetics of Fire, but I personally hope they can break away from it.

2. Shadow - Shadow's domain is all about the swamp and the bog, and there've been some really cool stuff uncovered in bogs. I don't think we'd get anything quite as morbid as a bog body, but something inspired by the clothes and artifacts pulled from the bogs would be interesting.

3. Light - The World Map mentions archaeology happening in both the Emperor's Wake and the Hewn City, so those are possible locations of a dig site. Maybe, keeping in theme with the Everlux lore, we could be unearthing old documents. I'm thinking parchments and tablets, and other stuff meant to record history. Hewn City's location on the World Map specifically describes it as haunted. Plus, if the Ghostlight Ruins really are in the Hewn City, we could also get a ghost-themed digsite as well, which I think would be cool as hell.

4. Arcane - What would be more fitting than a meteor crater? I loved the familiars of the Forbidden portal; this would be a great place for staff to bring back more of that vibe. Imagine a primary/secondary inspired by glowing meteors, and space-themed apparel.

5. Lightning - I could see staff going in a couple of directions for this. They could lean into the flight's desert aesthetic, giving us sand/ancient desert inspired stuff, or they could give us ancient machinery.

6. Plague - Honestly, I'm having troubles coming up with something for Plague. The Boneyard pretty much embodies what I envision as a Plague-themed digsite.

At some point we could get a digsite inspired by the time period with giant bugs (I forgot the era name), which could reasonably go to any element. Maybe even a digsite themed around gems and mining precious stones. Or unearthing the ruins of an ancient battlefield! Plus there are still a ton of dinosaurs/prehistoric creatures we haven't yet seen. There's a lot of potential for Arlo still, and I'm excited to see where it goes.