#but it really doesn’t get complained about enough

[clown-bimbo]

Sugar Daddy Leona

Definitely a gender neutral reader because he is rood in this and we already know Leona is canonically more respectful to women, so you are yuugender in this

You’re down on your luck and need cash. Maybe you’re even in debt to azul, who knows. But you need money.

Fortunately for you, a certain royal lion who throws money at problems he’s too lazy to deal with (which is most of them) currently has a problem that you can solve.

Leona needs a date.

Some stupid ball thing he has to attend. And for most of his life he’s been able to get away going alone, but this year his family is really pestering him to bring someone. He doesn’t think much of it, he’ll just find someone not too annoying to drag along with him. He’ll even pay them for their time. Win win. (He ends up offering you a stupid amount of money but you take the Ruggie route and just accept it from him)

And that’s how the transactional relationship between you and Leona starts. Innocent enough, right?

but then you and Leona get tipsy. Then you and Leona get handsy. And then you and Leona get in bed.

You wake up the next morning with the usual headache, but also a sleepy lion clinging onto you like a pillow.

Also you’re both naked.

And bruised.

And DAMN did you fuck up Leona’s back—

Tho it was probably deserved, especially now that you can really process how fucking sore you are down there.

Leona stirs, complaining about his headache. If he's surprised to see you in bed with him, you'll never know, because his face remains passive. He mumbles something about upping your pay, then falls back to sleep.

You don't even know where your underwear is.

You eventually do find it, you clean up and get dressed. At some point Leona finally gets up, pulling his boxers on but nothing else. His tail waves lazily behind him.

You try to bring up last night, but he starts digging through his pile of clothes and tosses a wallet at you.

"There'd be trouble if word got out, so I'm counting you to keep your mouth shut, got it, Herbivore?"

You just nod and try to leave as subtly as possible.

Below the cut is 18+ content. Tread with caution.

For my afab readers out there, the extra money is also for you to find last minute contraceptives. He wouldn't know the first thing about buying them himself, but figures you should, right? All he knows is that he came in you. A lot. And he definitely can't afford the consequences, and he doesn't want you to either.

You both expect to brush it all off, put it all behind you.

But uh

Leona finds him thinking about you more. Specifically when he's horny. And it's fucking annoying. So, once again, he decides to go about his tried and true method of throwing money at someone to deal with it.

He contacts you again and says (in the blunt Leona way) that he will pay you to keep going to events with him and also fuck him.

So now you've got the lil sugar daddy transaction going on. You join him to socials and events with his family, then he takes you to bed and fucks all his frustrations out on you.

Typically has you on all fours or bouncing on his cock. Man's has two modes: pillow princess or beast mode. Typically one followed by the other.

He'll be lounging on bed while you ride him. You'll get yourself off on his cock. And while your panting, he's shifting to grab you. He'll whisper in your ear I'm not done yet, herbivore, and suddenly he's pounding into you like a jackhammer.

Or it'll be a session of relentless pounding, but one of you wants more, so he'll lay back and have you ride him.

There are times where you'll both be exhausted (or in his case, where he doesn't want to exert as much effort) but he still insists that you keep going. Really, he just likes being inside you. Don't be surprised when you wake up sleeping on his chest, dick still inside you.

And he refuses to use condoms, he wants to cum inside you, and he fucking will. And he fucking does. A lot.

And if you're afab he absolutely makes sure you're on the best contraceptive plan possible.

He may tear any condoms he sees to pieces, but he still tries to be a safe sex king. Just don't make him wear the fucking rubber, unless you really wanna get fUCKED up that night. They make him so irrationally angry.

Or maybe there is some rationality to it. Maybe it's an instinct thing.

Over the course of the transactional relationship you really become his herbivore. He actively seeks you out for company. Like to the point Ruggie has not only noticed it, but become accustomed to it. Which also means he has teased Leona about it, though not often and a lot, because Leona seems oddly touchy about it...

Speaking of touchy, mans is so handsy with you, always has to be holding you in some way. Later on in the relationship, he started getting cheeky with it, and there have been a few times where you'd swat him and he'd just shoot you that wry smile. He will always move his hand, though, when you express discomfort or discontent. He only does it because he can tell you don't really hate it. You're mostly just embarrassed. And he likes the way you blush.

Will prob do a part 2 because I have more ideas but they're not nsfw and I want to make them available. Sooooooo... yeah.

[rafeskai]

Life as We Know It — Rafe Cameron

Chapter Seven

Two opposites must navigate love, loss, and unexpected parenthood to discover the meaning of family.

Summary: When tragedy strikes, two very different individuals find their lives unexpectedly intertwined as they become the guardians of an orphaned child. As they navigate the challenges of co-parenting, balancing careers, and confronting their pasts, they discover that family can form in the most surprising ways. Through heartfelt moments and unexpected humor, they explore what it means to build a life together—one step at a time.

Pairings: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Character deaths & angst.

Author's Notes: I'm gonna post the epilogue and bonus scenes after this! Get ready!

Masterlist: Here

The next few weeks passed in a blur of routine. A new normal, one that felt both comforting and overwhelming in equal measure, began to take shape. You and Rafe had settled into a rhythm of sorts, with Willa at the center of it all. The house, once filled with tension and unspoken words, now carried the sound of laughter—her little giggles as she played with toys, the rhythmic hum of Rafe humming softly as he prepared dinner, and your voice singing along to a song just to get her to smile.

It was a strange blend of happiness and grief.

On the surface, everything appeared to be falling into place. Willa was thriving. Her laughter was more frequent, and the little spark of her personality was shining through with each passing day. But underneath it all, there was still the ache. The absence of Sarah and John B. lingered in every room, in every corner, like an uninvited guest. It was most noticeable in the quiet moments—the stillness that would creep in after dinner, when the house would settle, and Willa was fast asleep in her crib.

At night, Rafe and you would sit together in the living room, the empty space between you both palpable. Sometimes, you would talk, but it was often just the sound of the TV or the quiet clinking of wine glasses as you both tried to make sense of everything. Both of you, in your own way, were learning how to process the grief of losing Sarah and John B. while simultaneously trying to be the parents Willa needed.

There was no guidebook for this, no rulebook that could teach you how to grieve for your best friend while being there for her child, no instructions on how to love a child who wasn’t yours by blood but had stolen your heart all the same.

It was on one of those quiet evenings that the realization hit. You had just put Willa to bed, tucking her into her crib while Rafe stood in the doorway, his expression unreadable.

“You ever think about them?” Rafe asked quietly as you turned to face him.

You leaned against the doorframe, crossing your arms, eyes staring off toward the window. “All the time. It doesn’t really feel real yet, you know? Like… they’re just gone. I still expect to get a text from Sarah telling me to pick up dinner, or John B. calling to complain about something. But none of that’s happening. It’s like I’m stuck in this weird in-between place.”

Rafe nodded slowly, his gaze falling to the floor. “Yeah. It’s the same for me. Every time I go into town, I expect to see John B. standing at the docks or Sarah laughing somewhere. But they’re not there. I keep thinking I’ll see them, and then… I don’t.”

There was a heaviness in his words, a weight that neither of you had truly acknowledged out loud.

Rafe’s eyes met yours, a flicker of something unspoken in them. But before either of you could say more, there was a loud creak from the hallway—the unmistakable sound of Willa’s little feet padding across the floor. The distraction was enough to pull both of you out of your heads.

“She’s up again,” you muttered, half-smiling. You started to make your way toward her room, but Rafe stopped you with a hand on your shoulder.

“I’ll get her,” he said softly, almost as if he were offering more than just the simple task of comforting her.

You nodded, stepping aside to let him go. Watching him take the lead with Willa felt like a breath of fresh air. He was natural with her—careful, gentle, even though you knew the weight of everything still hung on him, just as it did on you.

The next few weeks continued in much the same way. Days blurred together as the three of you navigated the waters of parenthood. You did your best to keep your emotions in check, but at times, you found yourself breaking down when you were alone—alone with your thoughts of Sarah, John B., and what they would have wanted for their daughter.

You saw it too in Rafe. There were days when he would retreat into himself, the weight of his father’s abuse, the responsibility of being a father figure for Willa, and the grief of losing his sister bearing down on him all at once. He was more distant some days, lost in his own head, and it was hard to reach him. On those days, you couldn’t help but feel the distance between you widening.

But then, on other days, he would open up a little more. You would catch him smiling at Willa in a way that made your chest tighten, and you would catch a fleeting look between the two of you—something deeper, something undeniable, but neither of you was ready to face it.

It was during one of these quiet evenings, a few weeks after the ruling in court, when you and Rafe found yourselves alone in the living room again. The weight of your grief still lingered, but now, it was different. You were both becoming accustomed to the rhythm of your new life, even if it was hard. Willa was playing in the corner, and Rafe was scrolling through his phone, but the silence between you was now loaded with something you both refused to acknowledge.

You leaned back against the couch, watching Willa, when Rafe suddenly spoke. “I don’t know what I’m doing half the time,” he admitted, his voice low. “I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t ask to be her father figure… but I’m trying. I don’t want to mess this up.”

You turned to face him, surprised by the vulnerability in his voice. “You’re doing fine, Rafe. Better than fine. You’re all she has right now.”

He exhaled deeply, looking at you for a moment. “Yeah, but I can’t keep pretending like I don’t see you. I can’t keep pretending like I don’t feel something more than just… this.”

The words hit you like a thunderbolt. Your heart skipped a beat, and before you could form a response, Rafe stood up abruptly, running a hand through his hair. “This isn’t right. You’re grieving, I’m grieving, and we’ve got Willa to think about. This—this thing between us, it’s just too complicated.”

You stared at him, your throat tightening. “Rafe…” you whispered, not knowing what to say next. You did feel it. That pull. That undeniable connection that had been building between you both for weeks. But was it the right time? Was it right, when everything was still so raw?

“I don’t know what to do with it either,” he muttered. “But we can’t keep ignoring it. I don’t know if I’m ready for this, for us... for her.”

And so, there you were—on the cusp of something new, yet still trapped in the grip of grief. Neither of you ready to face the truth of what was brewing between you. But one thing was certain: something had changed, and no matter how hard you both tried to deny it, the feeling was becoming impossible to ignore.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The morning came too soon, dragging with it the weight of yesterday’s unspoken words. The quiet tension that had settled between you and Rafe the night before lingered, thickening the air in a way that made it hard to breathe. You barely slept, tossing and turning, your mind racing through the things you didn’t say, the things Rafe didn’t say. Everything was so… messy.

You were standing at the kitchen counter, preparing breakfast for Willa, trying to get into the rhythm of your routine, but your thoughts kept drifting to him. To what he had said. To what you felt in your chest.

Rafe walked into the kitchen, his eyes heavy, hair unkempt. It was clear he hadn’t slept much either, his posture stiff, like he was walking on eggshells. You exchanged a quick glance, and for a split second, you both seemed to be holding your breath, unsure of where to go from here.

“I’ll make coffee,” Rafe muttered, moving to the counter to prepare the pot, his back to you.

You nodded quietly, not sure if you should say something, if he even wanted you to. The silence between you both was so thick now, every word felt loaded. The air smelled of coffee brewing, the soft hum of the kettle, and the soft sound of Willa’s babbling from the living room. But it all felt so distant.

“You okay?” Rafe’s voice broke through your thoughts, quieter than usual.

You turned to face him, studying his expression. His usual walls were up again, that guarded look in his eyes that he wore so often when he was trying to hide something from the world. It made your chest ache, seeing him like this.

“I should be asking you that,” you said, trying to keep your tone light, but it came out softer than you intended. “You didn’t sleep either, huh?”

He glanced at you over his shoulder, giving you a tight smile. “No, not really.”

The silence returned, but this time, it felt a little more fragile, like something was about to break. You could feel the weight of the words hanging between you both, words that neither of you was ready to say aloud.

Willa’s giggle interrupted the quiet tension, and both of you turned at the sound. The sight of her, laughing and playing with her toys, was a small relief, a distraction from the heaviness that had crept in. But even as you watched her, something in your chest ached.

You cleared your throat, forcing your mind back into the present. “I should get Willa dressed, get her breakfast ready.”

Rafe nodded. “Yeah, I’ll take care of the coffee. You know she likes it when I make her pancakes.”

You smiled, a small, genuine smile that felt foreign after the events of the night before. “You’re spoiling her.”

Rafe’s lips curled into a smirk, his usual cocky edge slipping back into place. “Hey, she deserves it.”

There was a brief moment of normalcy—small talk, familiar routines—but it wasn’t the same. The dynamic between you both had shifted, and you weren’t sure how to navigate it.

You went to Willa’s room, finding her still in her pajamas, her little hands reaching for the toys scattered across the floor. You scooped her up, settling her in your arms as you began to change her, the soothing rhythm of dressing her bringing a sense of comfort amidst the storm inside your mind.

As you worked, your thoughts drifted again, back to the conversation with Rafe. What were you both doing? You had spent so much time trying to keep the lines clear between friendship and responsibility, but now those lines were blurry, tangled up in grief, responsibility, and something more. Something neither of you was ready to face.

When you returned to the kitchen with Willa, Rafe was already plating pancakes. Willa squealed, reaching for the stack with tiny hands, and Rafe chuckled softly, placing a plate in front of her. The warmth between the two of them was undeniable. It was moments like this that made everything worth it, didn’t it?

But still, that thing between you and Rafe hung in the air, like a thread waiting to unravel.

You sat down at the table, pushing your plate aside as Willa dug into her breakfast, messy syrup smudging her cheeks. Rafe joined you at the table, not looking at you directly, but you could feel his presence next to you, the space between you both full of the things left unsaid.

The silence was comfortable for now, but you knew it wouldn’t stay that way for long.

“Do you ever think about Sarah and John B., like, what they would want for her?” you asked, the question slipping out before you could stop it. It felt like the right thing to say, like an opening to talk about the things neither of you were saying.

Rafe’s shoulders tensed for a moment, but he didn’t look away from Willa, watching her eat with intense focus. “Yeah,” he replied, his voice a little rough. “All the time. I think they’d be happy with how things are going. They’d be happy she’s with us.”

“I hope so,” you said quietly, your voice trailing off as you stared at Willa, wondering if she could ever really understand what had happened. What had been lost.

You cleared your throat, trying to change the subject. “I need to get to the store later. Willa’s almost out of diapers.”

Rafe nodded. “I can go with you. It’ll give us a chance to—well, you know, get out of the house for a bit. Take a break.”

You were about to respond when Willa’s giggle interrupted once again, drawing both your attention. She had managed to squirt syrup all over the table in her attempt to scoop up the pancake, making a mess. It was impossible not to laugh, and you both found yourselves chuckling together, momentarily breaking through the tension that had built up.

But even as you laughed, the realization hit you like a weight.

This was your new life now. The uncertainty, the grief, the joy, the overwhelming responsibility. And somewhere deep inside, you knew that things had changed—maybe forever. The question was, what would you both do with it?

You looked at Rafe again, at the small smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he cleaned up the mess Willa had made, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you weren’t quite so afraid of what would come next. You couldn’t ignore it forever, the pull between you both.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The sun hung high in the sky, casting a warm glow over the streets as you and Rafe walked side by side into the local grocery store. Willa, snug in her stroller, was contentedly gnawing on a teething ring, oblivious to the undercurrent of tension between you and Rafe. The quiet hum of the air conditioning and the sound of shoppers milling around filled the otherwise tense silence.

You grabbed a basket, but as soon as you looked down, you realized you were already second-guessing the list in your head. Diapers. Milk. Fruit for smoothies. Frozen vegetables. Simple things. Yet your mind was so distracted that you had to pause for a second, mentally organizing what you needed.

Rafe pushed the stroller ahead, his hands gripping the handles firmly, his posture stiff, like he was trying to avoid looking at you too directly. You could feel the weight of the unspoken words between you both, like a heavy fog that neither of you had the courage to clear.

“Anything else we need?” Rafe’s voice broke through the quiet, a little sharper than usual.

You glanced at him, noting the way he was trying so hard to keep it together. You couldn’t blame him. The last few days had been full of emotional roller coasters, and now here you were, trying to navigate the mundane task of grocery shopping like everything was normal when everything wasn’t.

“I think that’s it,” you answered, trying to keep your tone light. “Unless you want anything special?”

Rafe shook his head. “No. Let’s just get through this and get back to the house.”

His words were clipped, and you bit back the urge to comment on his attitude. It had been like this for days now: distant, cold, like he was closing off any room for vulnerability. You wanted to reach out to him, to break through the wall he was building, but you didn’t know how.

You moved through the aisles, grabbing items on the list, each movement mechanical. The only sound between you was the soft rolling of the stroller as you passed the rows of canned goods and produce. Every now and then, you’d glance over at Rafe, trying to gauge his mood, but he kept his eyes ahead, focused on nothing in particular.

“Willa’s starting to get fussy,” you said after a few minutes, noticing her starting to squirm in the stroller.

Rafe nodded absently. “Yeah. Let’s get the last few things and head out.”

You grabbed the milk and some frozen meals, trying to focus on the task at hand. But every time you looked at Rafe, your chest tightened. It was so hard, pretending like nothing had changed between you. Pretending that everything was just as it had been. But the kiss... and everything that had followed after... it had changed something.

Before you could say anything else, Willa started fussing more, her soft cries filling the store. You turned to Rafe, a little frantic.

“I think she’s hungry.”

Rafe froze for a moment, then looked down at Willa, his face softening just slightly. He reached down, adjusting the straps on the stroller to give her a bit more space. “Alright, we can stop at the café on the way back. Get her something.”

You both moved toward the checkout lanes, the silence stretching on, but there was something different in Rafe’s eyes now. A flicker of softness, a crack in the wall he’d built. You tried not to notice, but it was hard to ignore.

Willa continued to fuss as they packed the groceries into bags. Rafe had that look again, like he was still processing something, but he didn’t say anything.

As you approached the counter, the cashier gave you a kind smile, scanning your items without a second thought. It was a stark contrast to the tension in your chest, but you forced a smile back, nodding at her as she packed up the last of your things.

Once the transaction was complete, Rafe took the bags without hesitation, moving toward the door. You followed behind, your mind a jumble of confusion and frustration. When you reached the car, you both stood for a moment, the groceries in the trunk, but no one moving.

You stood beside Rafe, looking down at your shoes, unsure of what to say next. The air between you felt charged, heavy with all the things you hadn’t said, the things you couldn’t say.

“You know,” Rafe started, breaking the silence, his voice quieter than before. “I don’t know how to... how to fix all this.”

You looked up at him, surprised.

“Fix what?” you asked, your voice small.

He ran a hand through his hair, sighing deeply. “Everything. I don’t know how to make this work. Us. This whole... situation.”

You stood there, the weight of his words sinking in, and for the first time in what felt like weeks, you finally said something that felt honest, raw.

“I don’t either,” you admitted, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “But I don’t want to make things harder for you. Or Willa.”

Rafe met your eyes then, and for a moment, there was something in his gaze—something soft, almost vulnerable. “I know you’re doing your best. I know you’re here for her. For both of us.”

Your heart skipped at the sincerity in his voice, but it was quickly followed by a wave of confusion. Because part of you wanted to reach out, to tell him how you really felt, but you couldn’t shake the fear of what that might do to everything you had worked for. What it might do to Willa.

“I don’t want to mess this up, Rafe,” you whispered, looking at Willa, who was now calm and sucking on her pacifier in the backseat. “I don’t want to mess her up.”

He was quiet for a moment before he exhaled a slow breath. “I don’t think we will. We’ll figure it out... together.”

It wasn’t a promise, but it was enough. For now.

You both climbed into the car, driving back to the house in a silence that was more comfortable than before. 

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The house was quiet, save for the soft hum of the air conditioner and the occasional creak of the floorboards as you moved around the kitchen. Willa was napping peacefully, her little body curled up in the bassinet, oblivious to the tension that had been hanging in the air between you and Rafe.

You had just returned from the grocery store, and as you set the bags on the kitchen counter, you noticed Rafe standing in the doorway, watching you. His eyes were unreadable, but there was something different about the way he was looking at you—less guarded, more open.

“You need help with those?” Rafe asked, his voice quiet but steady.

You glanced up at him, surprised by his offer. Normally, he'd keep to himself, sticking to his routine without offering much assistance, but something had shifted. You nodded, handing him a couple of bags.

Together, you unloaded the groceries in silence, the rhythmic sound of cans and boxes hitting the counter the only noise between you. You both moved in tandem, a comfortable choreography born from living together for the past few months. But despite the ease of the task, the air felt thick with something unspoken.

Finally, Rafe broke the silence.

“You know,” he began, his voice hesitant but firm, “On the drive back, I’ve been thinking a lot about... everything. About us.”

You paused mid-task, glancing over at him. Your heart skipped a beat as you watched him struggle with the words, as though each one weighed a thousand pounds.

“I don’t want to make this harder than it already is,” he said, his voice low. “I know we’ve both got baggage... and... I’m not exactly the best at this whole thing. But I... I want to try, [Y/N]. I want to try with you. With this... with us.”

You froze, your hands stilling as you processed his words. The intensity in his gaze made your stomach flip, and for a moment, all you could hear was the beat of your own heart.

“I... don’t know what to say,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Rafe took a step closer, his presence commanding but not overwhelming. “I’m saying that I want something more. Something real. I don’t want to keep running from it. From this.”

You could feel the raw sincerity in his words, the vulnerability he rarely showed. It made your chest tighten, and for a moment, you wanted to reach out to him, to pull him closer. But the fear of what this could mean—what it could change—held you back.

“You don’t have to say anything right now,” Rafe added quickly, as if he was afraid of pushing you too hard. “But I need you to know that I’m not gonna mess it up. Not this time. I’ve made plenty of mistakes, but I’m trying. I’m trying with you, with Willa... with everything.”

You swallowed hard, the weight of his words settling deep within you. Part of you wanted to argue, to tell him that it wasn’t that simple—that you couldn’t just forget the past. But another part of you was listening to him, seeing the sincerity in his eyes. And maybe, just maybe, it was enough to believe him.

“I’m scared, Rafe,” you admitted, your voice shaky. “I’m scared of what this could mean. What if we mess it all up? What if—”

He cut you off, taking a step forward, his hand gently resting on your arm. “We won’t,” he said firmly. “We’ll take it slow. Together.”

For the first time in a long while, you felt the weight of your fears lighten, just a little. You looked at him, really looked at him—at the man who had been so closed off, the man who had fought to protect Willa, the man who had shown you a side of him you hadn’t known existed.

“I don’t want to be scared anymore,” you whispered, your hand reaching out to brush against his. “I don’t want to keep pretending that this doesn’t feel right.”

Rafe’s eyes softened, and he took your hand, his grip firm but gentle. “Then don’t,” he murmured. “Let’s stop pretending.”

You leaned into him, your heart racing as you closed the distance between you. The tension that had plagued the air for weeks finally began to dissipate, replaced by something warm and real.

“I’m here, [Y/N],” Rafe said softly, his breath warm against your forehead as he pressed a kiss there, tender and full of meaning. “I’m not going anywhere.”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The kiss had started slow, tender, a quiet acknowledgment of everything you had both been holding back for so long. The kind of kiss that said more than words ever could. Rafe’s hand cupped your face, the warmth of his touch grounding you as you let go of all the fears and doubts that had kept you from this moment.

You kissed him back, more fiercely now, your body moving closer to his, as if you could erase all the distance that had once been between you. The connection between you was undeniable, electric, and suddenly the weight of everything else seemed to disappear—just for a moment, just for this time.

Rafe’s hands slid down your back, pulling you closer, and you let him, feeling the heat building between you. It felt natural, like it was always meant to be like this. And then, in a blur of desire and need, you were in his arms, his lips trailing along your neck as your hands tugged at his shirt, pulling him closer still.

But before you could lose yourself in the moment, a small, sudden cry from the other room sliced through the air, sharp and unrelenting.

“Willa...” you breathed, a pang of guilt washing over you as you pulled away from Rafe.

He froze too, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his expression conflicted as he glanced toward the door. “She... she’s probably just waking up,” he muttered, though the uncertainty in his voice was unmistakable.

Another cry, louder this time. It was followed by the sound of small hands hitting the sides of the bassinet, desperate and frantic. You both exchanged a brief look, the desire lingering in the space between you, but reality had already set in.

Rafe cursed softly under his breath and stood up, grabbing the hem of his shirt and pulling it over his head in one swift motion. You quickly followed, adjusting yourself and standing as well, feeling the absence of him already, though you couldn’t ignore the ache in your chest.

“I’ll get her,” you said, your voice still breathless from the intensity of the moment. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as you made your way to the nursery.

Rafe hesitated for just a moment, as if unsure of what to do, but then followed you. When you reached Willa’s room, she was indeed wide awake, her little face scrunched up in distress, her tiny hands reaching out for comfort.

“Hey, hey, Willa, it’s okay,” you cooed softly, lifting her from the bassinet and cradling her against your chest. “You’re alright, sweet girl. I’m here.”

Rafe lingered in the doorway, his gaze lingering on the two of you, and for a moment, it felt like everything was right. The warmth of the love you shared for Willa seemed to wrap around all three of you. But even in the quiet moments like this, the pull between you and Rafe was undeniable. The intimacy that had just been interrupted now hung heavily in the air, unanswered, unfinished.

“I think she’s just hungry,” you murmured, bouncing her lightly in your arms as you moved toward the small kitchen area. “I’ll feed her.”

Rafe nodded, his eyes still on you, though now there was a softness there. The tension between you had melted, but it hadn’t disappeared. It lingered, a silent promise between you both that things were about to change.

He walked up to you and gently brushed a stray lock of hair behind your ear, his touch tender. “We’ll get back to that,” he said quietly, a playful yet earnest glint in his eyes.

You smiled, your heart racing in your chest, both from the emotions swirling inside you and the overwhelming sense of longing for more. You hadn’t expected any of this—hadn’t expected things to escalate so quickly, or for the intensity of your feelings to come flooding to the surface. But it felt right. In that moment, you knew it was just the beginning of something deeper.

“We will,” you promised, gazing at him with more certainty than you had in a long time.

And as Willa nursed in your arms, her cries now subsided into soft, contented suckles, you both stood together—quiet, connected, yet aware of the complicated path you still had ahead. But for now, it didn’t matter. In that fleeting moment, it was just the three of you.

© 2024 rafeskai | All rights reserved. This fanfiction is a work of fiction inspired by characters from Outer Banks, and no part of it may be reproduced or distributed without permission.

[lexirosewrites]

A Slick Sunday thought (if not for this week then for the future)

I really enjoy exploring the medical concepts related to the omegaverse but I also really love exploring them in the specific concept of the setting. And I have thoughts about 80s medical knowledge and diet culture.

Basically, I like the idea that Omegas need certain conditions in order to be healthy and fertile. I like the idea of them needing to feel safe (high adrenaline and cortisol levels functioning to basically pause their reproductive cycle) and I like the idea that (heat being a pretty physically demanding bodily function) Omegas also need a higher body fat percentage in order to have heats. (Heats also cease much more easily than normal female menstruation. An Omega can technically lead an otherwise perfectly healthy life without presenting or experiencing heats. Heats historically could prevent an Omega from being able to eat and expend a great deal of energy and thus Omegas adapted so that they could not go into heat without enough fat in reserve to survive fasting completely throughout. This is not a healthy practice but it is survivable.)

But I don’t think that that would be well understood in the 80s. Our understanding of hormones and nutrition have changed pretty dramatically over time and the common public perception has very rarely actually lined up with that understanding. And diet culture in the 80s was very much present.

Thus, a crisis for suburban mothers to clutch pearls over. Fewer and fewer presenting Omegas and heats few and far apart! What could cause this? The threat of nuclear war? A communist plot? (The diets. It’s the diets and the weight related bullying. And a little bit the threat of nuclear war. Give your kid an ice cream and stop letting them watch the news.)

Anyway, peering into this world we observe Steve Harrington. Who presents after he starts working at an ice cream shop. (Mostly because he was too stressed before. A little because he hit some ill-timed growth spurts. Male Omegas often present later because they stop growing later) But at Scoops he’s as relaxed as he’s been in a long time and he’s eating more and exercising less and as tall as he’s ever going to be. So finally conditions are right. And now Steve knows he’s an Omega. And then the Russians happen. And his heats stop. And he’s not entirely sure that it’s not something the Russians did to him. (Doctors said everything was fine. There’s no reason he shouldn’t be having them. (Except for the trauma. And stress. The stress experienced after the trauma. They haven’t really figured that one out in the 80s either.))

So Steve is pretty sure he’s just broken. And will just have to take out all of his thwarted Omegan maternal instincts on the Party. Who hate it. (They love it) And complain about it vociferously. (Because they’re teenagers) Especially to the super cool older teens they hang out with. (Eddie’s merry band of nerdy social outcasts) And Eddie is… intrigued. Eddie may also have gotten a little too into all the courtly love fairytale shit a few years ago. Eddie is determined to woo the babysitter with shows of chivalry and gifts of food. Eddie is not the least put off by the fact that Steve can’t be a “traditional Omega”. Eddie would love to share Steve’s heats and give Steve all the pups he desires, but he doesn’t need it. He mostly dated Beta guys before anyway. He’s the opposite of turned off by finding out that Steve is a monster slaying badass. He is down to make Steve the Eowyn to his Faramir.

Steve doesn’t fully get his heat cycle back until the Party have all flown the nest for college. But by the time they’re home for Christmas he and Eddie have an announcement to make.

YESSSSSSSS🥳🥵🥰🥺😮‍💨🔥🔥🔥

[mtvjedi]

can i complain about gladiator 2. i’m gonna!!!! here is your official spoiler warning!!!!!

i knew frankly nothing of the plot before i went to see it i ONLY saw it because of pedro pascal and paul mescal (and denzel) so in that sense it was a good movie. in all other senses it was…………. well……….. a movie. why was lucius beat for beat maximus from the original movie but written worse. birthright stolen from him, wife murdered by the roman army, forced into being a gladiator due to the whims of powerful men, eventually becomes Thee leader of the gladiators, overthrows the current emperors/government/etc. except we have the added “plot twist” of him being maximus’ son AND marcus aurelius’ grandson. double nepo baby. i say plot twist because it was obvious to probably literally everyone who knows even a tiny bit about the original movie.

it is very obvious that they cut basically everything important from the plot because nothing connects. the ONLY plot line that has any kind of follow through is denzel’s so no shock he was the best part of the movie. side note i knew once they cast him that he wasn’t going to be playing some silly goofy mentor character so him turning out to be more important wasn’t surprising but his true motivations were and, again, the only coherent plot line in the movie. he was a slave, he bought his freedom, he got rich, and he did what he had to do to get his revenge. his and paul mescal’s relationship was the most interesting one because you were a slave but now you’re buying slaves and potentially sending them to their gruesome bloody deaths in the hopes that someday one might be powerful enough to help you overthrow the emperors??? did you KNOW paul mescal was lucius when you found him or was that simply pure dumb luck???? “the dream of rome is dead” ???? great continuation of the first movie because truly like what was supposed to happen post russell crowe killing joaquin phoenix and then immediately dying. who was in charge after that. side note: why were there like. full scenes from gladiator in there as flashbacks.

pedro pascal was like. kind of exactly the character i expected him to be. but again it feels like there’s MORE that they could have done with him. i understand why he had to die and it WAS interesting to pit him against paul mescal in the arena and then have the praetorian guard actually kill him to show how the emperors were losing control of the people, enter denzel, but. idk it felt like there was something missing from his character. i was actually convinced that the guy who put young lucius on the horse and sent him away would turn around and be pedro pascal and that would’ve been like an interesting little i saved your life please show me mercy here’s how i connect to the story besides being your stepdad type thing but here we are i guess.

poor paul mescal, truly. i thought he was as good as he could be with what he was given. his whole character just felt disjointed. like, it makes sense up until he’s revealed to be lucius. captured from his home, forced to watch his wife and eventually his friend/mentor die in front of him as a direct result of the roman empire, forced into slavery, doesn’t want to kill other slaves but eventually has to because he, like denzel, has an axe to grind with rome. but then he actually gets to rome and appears to not remember anything about who he really is, his mom figures it out in 0.2 seconds, and he suddenly remembers everything? had he ever even forgotten it? if he hadn’t forgotten, what was his plan back in his city? did he really love his wife? if he had forgotten, how does he remember everything so quickly? why does he hate his mom if he was 12 when she sent him away, aka old enough to understand what was happening? like, him in the first half and him in the second half are completely different characters and there’s not much of a bridge to connect them. there’s no explanation. honestly i kinda thought the real plot twist was gonna be that he actually was just some random kid and not actually lucius. like he just Becomes this character at the end without any real growth!!! he forgets about his wife and his friend! he has the chance to kill pedro pascal but he just……… doesn’t, for whatever reason. i kinda thought he was gonna die at the end because there had been so many little flashback moments to his wife crossing into the afterlife like russell crowe walking in the field to his wife and kid but i was gonna be really pissed if he died because then it’s just like exactly the same as the first movie where like who’s gonna lead??? you’re gonna be in the exact same spot in 20 years again!!!!!

idk it was just so long but nothing like. happened. it’s like a half baked gladiator remake but there’s so much CONTENT missing. overall, cheesy, the “dream of rome is dead, but we can rebuild it for all of us” or whatever thing was a little heavy handed, 10/10 for denzel washington, fun to watch if you don’t wanna think about the plot, pedro pascal and paul mescal as beautiful as expected.

[onestrangechild]

What your fav Legion says about you, from some nerd on an app

Ultramarines:

I like to think of you guys like Glock owners. Yes, on paper, you guys are the least creative but that means you guys are the most reliable. Guilliman was probably the best primarch to come back to the setting because he was the most stable, and it shows in his marines, who don’t have trauma for the sake of plot. You admire the other legions, but it’s the no nonsense approach they bring to battle that you respect the most.

For honor and glory.

Blood Angels:

You think Vampires are dope as Fuck, and you’re right. Your favorite TV show is probably season 1 of Netflix’s Castlevania (same) or HELLSING, and play the Vampire Counts in the Total War Warhammer games. You go into a seething rage at the merest mention of the WarMaster, and probably wanna rip Erebus’s hearts out and lay them before sanguinius’s feet. You’re probably a bit annoyed with people hiding their gear from you because they think you’re a Blood Raven, but you’ll forgive them in time.

Dark angels:

You think Medieval Knights are dope as Fuck, and you’re right. You dig the chivalry and honor they embody at all times, think dark green and gold looks drippy (it does), and think the Lion is an absolute badass (he is). You also probably grieved for what the honored 1st could’ve been before GW wrote them to all be paranoid douchebags, and can’t wait for the returned Lion to make some changes around his legion. Also, you’re extremely tone deaf, please learn to read the room yall

Salamanders:

OUT OF THE FIRE, AND UNTO THE ANVIL!

Whilst I’m more of a Blood Angel or Iron Hand myself, I have Immense respect for the sons of Vulkan. You think blacksmithing is cool as fuck and probably watch clips of Forged in Fire, or any of the various Blacksmith YouTubers there are. You also think Fire is cool, and think that Astartes should be nicer to Guardsmen in lore.

Imperial Fists:

As an Iron Warrior simp, suck my toes you Imperial Favorite. Now that that’s out of the way, the Imperial Fists is an entire legion of Engineers including you (probably). You think Emotions only make Simple things Complex and thus think as logically as life will let you, fair enough. Youre as tired of the “Imperial Fists are as cold as their home world” about as much as you are of Perturabo’s complaining, miss your genefather, and can feel the happy chemicals SURGING in your brain looking upon a reinforced defense manned by soldiers who’s only concern is holding the line.

Iron Hand:

As an Iron Hand myself, I know the “daddy issues” joke is fruit hanging lower than Ferrus Manus’s head rolling around on the floor, so I won’t. You’re a lot like an Imperial Fist, critically logical and as stalwart as Iron, but unlike imperial fists you’re allowed to have a personality! Unfortunately that Personality is tempered by a healthy dose of Trauma! Your hatred for the Emperor’s Children is just as violent as the Blood Angels and the Sons of Horus, and you pray Fulgrim gets a model so you can personally shoot him in the mouth.

White Scars:

You’re a vehicle guy, and you like going Fast. You also have a great appreciation for cultures like Feudal Japan, Ancient China, Mongolia, etc. idk what else to put here since I’ve never really… looked into their lore… (-(

Raven Guard:

You’re a quiet person, maybe you’re emo/punk, maybe you like dressing up gothic, but you’re definitely the quiet type. Whether that’s social anxiety or just a person of few words doesn’t matter too much, you vibe with the sad raven boys cuz they’re badasses. Unfortunately I cannot take those beaked helmets seriously.

Space Wolves:

I heard an explanation that I agree with once. You guys have such a rich history, a badass primarch that’s probably gonna return (eventually), and a very well developed Viking aesthetic that Is appreciated by those willing to dig into it… but to everyone on the outside you’re just a furry. And it’s kinda tragic…

Anyways, this is all just my opinion which means obviously this is Fact and should be Definitely taken as such

[aristoteliancomplacency]

Phone: oh? You didn’t want me to autocorrect ‘Were’ to ‘We’re’? In fact when I did that you went back and deleted it and typed ‘Were’ again? And when I corrected it again you went back and changed it again? And then waited for me to suggest you meant ‘we’re’, told me no, and then got frustrated when, after you finished typing the next word I changed it to ‘We’re’ again?

But are you absolutely positive you didn’t meant ‘we’re’ bc I’m preeeeetty sure you really did mean ‘We’re’.

[itspileofgoodthings]

.

[lightblueminecraftorchid]

My roommate and I had a conversation last night and I keep rotating it in my brain and I Don’t Like It

[tariah23]

Well, I’m still glad that Gojo was always a character who was growing and learning at least. He’s literally one of my favorite characters of all time now. Like, he’s never been as perfect as how the fans would make him out to be despite canonically being viewed as an absolute nuisance to everyone around him (I don’t think his peers necessarily hate him but a lot of them probably hate to see him coming and the ones who’ve dealt with him long enough to consider him a friend, tolerate him and groan whenever he opens his mouth, too 😭… out of love. He’s extremely childish so there is only sm the other adults around him can take and to an extent, his students. I think the only characters in canon who adore him and their eye’s sparkle whenever he’s around, and being a silly teacher was Yuuji and Miwa (she asked him for his autograph (he’s the most famous sorcerer in the jjk world) and when she was alone, she did a little dance in the empty hallway 🥺…) from what we’ve seen even though the others still care about him, too. They just find him rather annoying, which he most definitely is. And he does it on purpose. He plays too much.)

[handfulofmuses]

When you dislike their kid but they are alright

[no1ryomafan]

There is nothing worse than being into a objectively niche series but it still has one part of the franchise thats considered popular at its peak and amongst its dedicated fanbase so it’s the best iteration to probably direct people towards-

Until you remember you’ve experienced most of the franchise and there’s other parts that are objectively better not only in beginner friendliness but also writing but you can’t recommend people it so easily because it’s the part that isn’t talked about enough even if it has its fans.

And the fact this happened to me twice makes me even sadder about it 💀

[theamazingannie]

Ngl Dakota Johnson being a nepo baby and using her privilege to get jobs in acting and then shitting on everything that she’s been in rubs me the wrong way

[ravenofsilver]

I love my partner I really do but tonight she’s driving me to fucking tears but if I say anything then I know I’m going to be the Bad Guy and I just.

Just wanna scream.

[sickgraymeat]

.

[undead-moth]

What you’re describing is not filler. That is not what filler means.

genuinely one of the worst things that’s happened to television in the last few years (exacerbated by streaming services) is death of Filler. going from 20 episodes to 8 because “we didn’t really need that episode where the main characters went to the beach right? it had no long lasting effect” but we DID!!! we needed to see how they act without the Big Bad Plot and to establish the dynamics between the characters and lay in the sun (do they forget sunscreen? how do they react to a thieving seagull? do they get buried in the sand or do they do the burying?). the plot isn’t everything. the action doesn’t hit as hard without the quiet moments. give us character development and our little scenes back

[evermoreal]

price would be strangely possessive over his assistant.

referring to her as things that really aren’t work appropriate at all. “swee’eart,” “dolly,” “sugar.” once, a “baby” slipped through his teeth, but he was switching the subject before she could really catch on.

it’s hard to pinpoint exactly when it was he started tacking “my” in front of his pet names. “my angel,” “my love.”

even when she wasn’t in the room — it was impossible to know he was talking about a colleague with the way he spoke about her. “my woman’s always on my case abou’ shit like that — cholesterol levels, sugar intake. fuckin’ bullshit, but i do it to make ‘er happy.” or “can’t stay long, lads — got my lady waitin’ on me.”

in the summer months, her skirts get a bit shorter and her tops a bit tighter. he doesn’t blame her, the AC is shit and the heat can be suffocating. what does bother him, though, is the way his men ogle her as they stroll past her desk. how they’re coming up with excuses to visit her throughout the day.

it’s an easy enough fix. “why don’t ye come work in my office for the day, lovey?” he’s already collecting her paperwork. “keep an old man company, would ye? i’ve got a nice little fan too, keep ye nice an’ cool.”

though the job came with benefits, perhaps more than an assistant should be getting, price didn’t think it was enough. when her phone started to slow and the screen cracked, he left a new one on her desk. didn’t bother mentioning it came out of his paycheque. if she complains about her outfit — all my good clothes are in the wash — he’ll take her shopping, doesn’t let her worry about the totals. and, hey, if they end up at a lingerie shop, no one has to know, right? he’s just being a good boss. it’s only crossing a few boundaries when he gets her to model it for him in the fitting rooms. when she disappears behind the curtain, john adjusts himself in his slacks — it’s a natural reaction. on that note, it would make too much of a fuss if he were to correct the worker when she asks if his wife needs any help.

when day turns to night and she’s refusing price’s suggestion of hitting another shop, he pulls into a nearby restaurant, insists on treating her to a glass of wine to end the night. finding out she’s a lightweight is a pleasant discovery — two glasses in and her skin is warm to the touch, she’s giggling and hanging onto his every word. he likes her like this, he decides — but it’s not safe to leave her alone. no, she should stay with him tonight. another few sips and she’s agreeing, changing into one of her new lingerie sets and falling into john’s bed, dozing off with his hand splayed over her tummy, beard tickling the back of her neck.

it’s been too long since he’s had a woman in his life. his wires have gotten a bit crossed. you can’t blame him, can you?

edit! here’s more <3