#can take care of me when i can instead do it now like i already have a letter from my therapist and consultations upcoming

[shellxrls]

— r. cameron / reader

warnings: DUBCON — rafe roofies and then rapes reader / unprotected PinV / misogyny / mention of drugs (cocaine & roofies) / mention of virginity / inspiration taken from maddy & nate (euphoria)

synopsis: rafe cameron x fem!reader… sometimes rafe needs to slip a girl a little something at a party to get some, and where’s the shame in that if he knows they want him anyway, they’re just too prudish to admit it.

After you’ve successfully been dosed, he makes you sit on his lap for lack of space on the couch so he can rock you on his knee until you’re tired, delirious, and horny enough to be lifted upstairs, legs dangling against his broad back while you hiccup and giggle next to your upside-down view of his chest.

His nose is numb from the coke and his brain heady, one could argue almost as inebriated as you. But the lines make him oversaturated, not cock-dumb like what he slipped you — eager hands already pawing at his zipper and coming to a fumbled close around the metal just before you’re tossed onto a bed, spread aloof like the crumpled sheets.

“You’re sooo nice to me Rafe.. when all the other guys were sayin’i shoulda gone home,” you end with a belligerent nod of your head, slurring throughout and biting your lip in sexless embarrassment, chewing the skin raw enough to reflect your torn consciousness instead.

Rafe simply smirks, chin protruding outwards while his eyes flit between your thighs peeking through your overridden dress and your tits falling out of the frilly décolletage.

“You a virgin?”

“Mhm” you lie, despite the reeling dizziness occupying your headspace. Besides, nobody likes a whore — especially not rafe, uninterested in ‘stretched out pussy’ as you vaguely recall from his earlier conversation crowded around friends.

He approaches closer now, knocking your trembling knees apart with one of his beefy thighs, bulge forward and creasing in his pants as your dialogue gets him hard already, imposing his physicality in all its glory: “What like— you’ve never even been fingered before?”

You shake your head, tousling curls before staring back up at him, “Only my own.”

To that he chuckles, the noise grating and stunted when he uses it as an excuse to adjust himself in his pants, drawing his chest down further until he’s now hovering above you.

“Uh y’know,” he tongues at his cheek, “I could take care of that for you, practically all spread open an’ready huh?”

Like it wasn’t his plan to get you dumb and stuffed by the end of the night, even if it meant bringing out his inner brute, he was taller, faster, stronger — he could do it if he really wanted, but he made it easy for you instead. Could feel the roofie worming its way into your consciousness, jamming rationality and flooding you with hedonistic desire that would trigger your sex endorphins and make it so that you would want this, that he could brag about it without you opening your bitch mouth the next day and claiming ‘rape’; an ugly word anyways, coming out harsh in a spit, nothing like what rafe was doing to you, especially not with the way you were looking at him.

Your mouth opens, then closes, seemingly flailing on confirmation when really your jaw is getting slack and numb, and so you feel encouraged to nod instead, the movement making your thoughts go all bubbly, refracting Rafe’s glinting eyes at your ‘consent’.

He wastes no time with prep, shoving your dress up so it’s tucked over your tits, basal temperature remaining warm and stuffy despite the exposure to cool air. A good indicator though, means rafe can tell it’s working, and just how long he has before you might start struggling.

When he pulls himself out of his shorts it’s surprising, of course, everything about him is pretty, one would expect a tangible reflection of the cruelty on his features but instead, his dick looks cutesy, if not for the intimidating size.

Spit trickles harshly down his palm when he wraps a hand around himself, tugging quickly and using both his legs to split you around his midriff, leaking and achy despite the inattention you’ve received.

“You want this dick so fuckin’ bad huh,” he laughs at the puddle of arousal leaking out underneath you, considers swiping a finger into it to stick into your mouth but he doubts you’d be able to breathe right now if he interfered with the half catatonic features on your face, and it’s not like he’s out for that type of violence anyways (or at least not right now).

When he pushes himself inside you’re silent, pupils retreating in favour of a squeal — ironically a very Rafe-esque trait — while Rafe bites down into his cheek and rolls his palm over your chest to ease the pressure of the fit.

“Thought the roofie woulda loosened you up a bit..” mumbled out while his stomach clenches, now bracing his entire heavy arm across your abdomen and pinching skin when you involuntarily quiver at the weight, “You can take it c’mon.”

He thrusts hard and uncoordinated, fucking like he knows he’s hot, or at least how many more pills he has left in his stash. Knocking against your insides and entirely focused on the way his dick feels, knowing how easily he could move onto another victim, and just how much he wants to enjoy you in particular before it’s over.

Sweat clings to both your bodies, the slick getting louder when each thrust manages to pound a squelch out of you, spattering against the sheets or catching on Rafe’s balls to stick the both of you together with messy tendrils.

You’re pliant, let him move your legs so your ankles entwine behind his back, heavy hand locking them together and giving you both little breathing room; just enough for him to spill obscenities straight into your emotionless face with hot, sticky breath — he laughs, manically and seemingly at his own joke, before deciding to share it with you, “just don’t go running ‘bout me ‘assaulting’ you right. You wanted this, not my fault my cock’s so good the slut has to go dumb hmm?” mocking you with a teasing lilt and a raised brow.

You pat at his swollen chest, it’s all you can manage to do, urgent to get him off you, give you a little space atleast. He only shoves himself in further, lips puckering to sloppily catch yours, saliva straying down your chin and jaw instead.

Your outright discomfort seems to get him going even more, thrusts increasing in increment despite becoming more careless, tip catching your clit when he slips out and hurries to stuff it back in.

When his face pinches up, brows tensed and nose furrowed, you can tell he’s going to cum, the friction between your bodies almost unbearable with the heat that suddenly envelops him.

A slew of curses are hissed out, casual vulgarity being one of Rafe’s favourite expressions of self, and then he’s pulling out and wrapping a fist around himself to paint your tummy white. Ropes shooting watery on your tummy and painting him a proud picture.

He shakes himself off on you a final time before tucking his wet dick back into his briefs, cleaning himself up entirely unbothered by the dissected mess of you laying drugged and fucked out on the bed.

“My head feels funny.”

“Yeah, that’s cause I fucked it out of whack.” He says it serious but you can imagine his upturned lips at his own sick sense of humour.

“Where are you going?” you sit up groggy, chest tight.

“Uhh, back downstairs, got some more yayo I needa lay off— you can stay here or.. wherever, doesn’t matter.”

He has the decency to shut the door fully when he leaves, yet you’re still alone and forced to lay in the waste of one of Rafe Cameron’s nights out.

[zyafics-recs]

reblogging comment review from @zyafics

i lied (warning i don't think my commentary r that good) ⬇️

JJ cheered in the background, almost face-planting the ground as he struggled to get off his chair and call Pope.

that’s his bf fr

But watching Rafe Cameron—the boy who had idolized his father for years, now a man—sit in a chair facing countless cameras and strangers for hours as he recounted his life under Ward's control? That was a different kind of heartache.

he’s just a baby boy

ALT

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The barriers between you two seemed insurmountable.

climb that wall

Luke laughed, a deranged sound, and lunged. You swung the skillet with all your might. It connected with his shoulder, the impact reverberating up your arm

this scene is supposed to be serious but i imagined tommy and jerry where jerrry hit jerry with a pan or smth and the thing bounces off of him wobbly 😭😭ok back to reading (i wanna let u know the lengths i went through to make this gif bc i literally downloaded it and made it myself)

(i wanna let u know the lengths i went through to make this gif bc i literally downloaded it and made it myself)

You tried to speak, but the words caught in your throat, a sob escaping instead. Your knees gave out, and you sank to the floor, the phone slipping slightly in your grasp. The room felt like it was closing in on you, the walls pressing down, the silence deafening except for your labored breathing.

this is claustrophobic

"Sit here," Rafe said, motioning to the edge of the bed. He disappeared for a moment, returning with a first-aid kit. He kneeled in front of you again, this time with a different purpose. "Lemme see your hands."

MY BABY TAKING CARE OF MY OTHER BABY

You swallowed hard, the weight of his words pressing against the barrier you'd built around your heart. “Why��Why did you pick up the phone?”“You know why.”

can we please just fuck and make up

Without a word, he slipped off his shoes

this took me out white boy why do u have shoes in the HOUSEEEEE

“…I don’t care what it fucking takes,” Rafe all but spat, his tone filled with determination. “Yeah, I know the charges will stick. Just make sure he doesn’t get out on bail. I don’t want him anywhere near her again.”

rafe is such an action man we love 💕

"I owe you everything," he murmured.

screeching under my pillow 🦅

“You’ve been alone?” You all but sob, “You’ve been here all this time? By yourself?”

the way ur dialogue is like a movie SOMEONE GET GIGI INTO THE WRITERS ROOM STAT

Your heart pounded in your chest as he closed the distance, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, hesitant kiss. It was as if he was testing the waters, ensuring you were okay with this, and when you didn’t pull away, the kiss deepened. His hand moved to the back of your neck, holding you gently but firmly as his lips explored yours.

SEXYYY TIMEEE 💃🏻💃🏻💃🏻💃🏻 i am so unserious

“I don’t care,” you replied, shaking your head. “You fucked me after I got shot.”

say it

"That night was different. We were different."

oh fuck off being a gentleman pls ✋🏼🤨

His voice trailed off, but his hands spoke for him, tracing patterns along your sides, sending shivers through you. His touch was reverent as if he was rediscovering you, piece by piece.

why is this so beautiful

"I love the way you look at me," he continued, his hands slipping under your shirt, his shirt, caressing the bare skin beneath. "Like I'm the only person in the world. Like I matter."

ohmygod 🙈 i feel like i am interrupting something

"You do matter," you whispered, your voice breaking. “You matter to me.”

BABIES ALL OF THEM !!!!!!!!!!!

Rafe's hands found your hips, his touch firm and reassuring. "I love you," he said again,  "And I need you to know that. Shit, I need you to feel it."

put it in already 🙄 (kidding i love this)

"My perfect girl," he growled against your lips.

ur making me blush

“Fuck, yes,” he whimpered, his grip on your hips tightening. “You feel amazing.”

RAFE WHIMPERING I WONNN

"I can't believe you're real."

i swear to god if this turns out to be a dream i’m booking the next flight to ur city n murdering u in ur sleep (real)

final thoughts — this is so tender and sweet, i love this. i think i can offer no true words to have much i appreciate this series (also because i used it all up in the last review) but yes, like i said. compliments to the chefs for her dialogue and beautiful imagery. additionally, i wanna let u know that u give me so much inspiration. whenever i finish one of ur work, i'm like "i gotta get my ass up and work" because i always feel so motivated to write whenever i read ur stuff. <3 truly, t💘💘hank u for everything, i'm so excited (and sad... and horny...?) to see them come to a delightful end next part

THE OTHER SIDE OF PARADISE - rafe cameron (+18) - six

request: "a rafe enemies to lovers 🫣 the reader is jjs sister the whole drama before but then she gets left behind on the ship and rafe ends up comforting her and then yea that’s all I got you can do whatever else the rest 😛"

WARNINGS: domestic violence; blood; injuries; angst; smut;

word count: 7.6k

You saw it on the news before Sarah told you.

Ward was officially in police custody.

They were calling it the biggest crime operation in years, plastering his face on every corner of every newspaper in the country. You saw it first on your busted-up TV, the morning news anchor's serious tone making the gravity of the situation clear before Sarah had a chance to call.

He was stopped.

The man who caused so much pain and chaos to everyone you cared about was finally behind bars.

But your relief came with a bit of caution.

This was just the beginning. There was still a trial to face, and you knew how slippery Ward could be. He had enough money to buy whoever he wanted, and the justice system wasn’t always as just as you hoped. Trials could take months, even years before he was sentenced.

JJ cheered in the background, almost face-planting the ground as he struggled to get off his chair and call Pope. You hadn’t seen him this ecstatic in years, the hallways of your home echoing with “let’s fucking go, baby!” as he made his way upstairs.

You were content.

Was there really anything to be happy about?

Sure, a bad guy was getting what he deserved, but the destruction he left behind was still very much there.

Months ago, when the police contacted you again, you had refused to testify. What Ward did to you was terrifying, but what he did to Sarah, John B, and Rafe? They were the true witnesses to his evil. You barely got a taste of his wrath. You were lucky. You wanted to be there, of course. Every person Ward hurt deserved all the support they could get. But watching Rafe Cameron—the boy who had idolized his father for years, now a man—sit in a chair facing countless cameras and strangers for hours as he recounted his life under Ward's control? That was a different kind of heartache.

Rafe.

You hadn’t seen him since that day he dropped by, and it felt like he vanished into thin air. You didn’t see him around town, not at the beach, and he never stopped by your job. You started wondering if he’d been cooped up in that awful house all this time.

You couldn’t shake this feeling of worry, knowing he was stuck in the shadow of his dad’s mess.

Did he feel abandoned by you?

The thought of him, alone in that house, haunted you. You knew you should’ve reached out, found him as the town buzzed with the details of Ward’s arrest. More stories came out, each more horrifying than the last.

You almost gave in.

One evening, you found yourself riding past the Cameron estate, its looming structure a dark silhouette against the fading light. You almost went in, stopping by the gigantic gate, but then you saw movement inside and sped away on your bike.

You couldn’t do it. 

The barriers between you two seemed insurmountable.

As you walked home from your shift as a lifeguard at the beach, the sun setting behind you cast long shadows on the sand. The rhythmic crashing of the waves had always been your favorite soundtrack. You’ve spent most of your life inside the water, it was in your nature. 

Growing up, surf and swimming were your outlets to get away from your violent father and deadbeat mother. The ocean was your sanctuary, a place where you could forget the shouting matches, the broken furniture, and the empty bottles scattered around the house. When you were out there riding the waves or just floating on your back, everything else melted away. The water had a way of washing off the grime of your home life, even if just temporarily.

Unfortunately, once you set your feet on the sand and walked home, that feeling always vanished.

Tonight, as you made your way home, the familiar dread began to creep in. Both your parents were long gone, but the sense of dread would never leave you, always attached to that stupid house.

Even though the yelling had stopped, and the bottles were gone, the walls seemed to hold on to the echoes of your past. The creaky floorboards, the dim lighting, the chipped paint—You hated it.

You had considered moving out many times, but something always held you back. JJ. Money.

When you got there, the air felt unusually still.

JJ’s truck wasn’t parked in its usual spot, which was strange, but not entirely unheard of. What really unsettled you were the closed windows. You always left them open to let the ocean breeze in, but now they were all shut tight.

You called out your brother’s name, hoping to hear his usual welcoming shout, but there was only silence. You shrugged it off, thinking he was probably out on the boat or lost in his video games.

You dropped your bag by the door and walked further inside.

"JJ?" You called again.

As you stepped into the living room, the sight of your father, Luke, froze you in place. 

He seemed worse than you remembered—disheveled, eyes bloodshot, and reeking of alcohol.

Luke had been gone for a year, no contact, nothing. But the memories of his drunken rages and the bruises he left behind were still fresh. He was supposed to be miles away. JJ made sure of that, paying him off and helping him get off the island.

Seeing him was the last thing you were expecting.

"You shouldn’t be here,” You warned him, trying to mask the fear rising in your chest.

He laughed, a hollow, chilling sound. "I’m just here to see my kids. Is that so wrong?”

Liar.

You knew better than to trust him. “You need to leave. Now.”

His expression darkened, the smirk fading. “You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

“Watch me. Out.”

He took a step back, raising his hands in mock surrender, “I just need a little loan.”

You tightened your grip on the edge of the doorframe, “No. You need to go, for good.”

His eyes narrowed, and for a moment, you thought he might listen. But then he took a step closer, and you could smell the stale alcohol on his breath.

“I’m not leaving without what I came for.”

“I don’t care,” You snapped, no longer the scared girl he was used to, “Get your ass out of my house before I call the cops.”

“This is my house!” He all but screamed, the veins in his neck visible.

“Not anymore,” Your heart pounded in your chest, and every fiber of your being screamed for JJ, wishing he was here, “I’m not afraid of you,” you said, more to convince yourself than him.

He took another step forward, his face twisted in anger. “You always were a stubborn little brat.”

“And you’re a piece of shit.”

He lunged. 

You barely dodged his grasp, stumbling back into the living room.

“Stay away from me!” you shouted, desperately looking for something to defend yourself with. 

Luke laughed, a dark, hollow sound, and came at you again. This time, he grabbed your arm, his grip painfully tight. You barely had time to react, instinctively raising your arms to block his advance. 

“You little bitch,” he snarled, pushing you against the wall. The impact knocked the breath out of you, but you fought to stay focused. You couldn’t let him win, not again.

“You’re going to give me what I want,” he hissed, his breath hot and foul on your face.

“No, I’m not,” you spat back, summoning every ounce of courage you had.

With your free hand, you grabbed a nearby lamp and swung it at him. The base connected with his head, and he stumbled back, cursing.

“Bitch!” he roared, holding his head. Blood trickled down the side of his face, but the sight only seemed to enrage him further.

He charged at you, knocking the lamp from your hands and pinning you to the floor.

You were panicking, resorting to kicking and thrashing, trying to throw him off. “Get off me!” you screamed, clawing at his face.

He slapped you hard, the force of the blow making your vision blur. “You think you can fight me?” he snarled, his hands wrapping around your throat.

Gasping for air, you felt the desperation claw its way out. You’d been here too many times. Your hand groped blindly on the floor, finding a heavy candlestick. Your mom’s candlestick. With the last of your strength, you brought it down on his head.

Luke’s grip loosened, and he slumped to the side, groaning. You scrambled to your feet, your breath coming in ragged gasps.

He tried to get up, but you struck him again, this time with all your strength. The candlestick connected with a sickening thud, and your father collapsed, blood pooling around his head.

You stood over him, panting, the weight of what you’d done sinking in.

But then, with a guttural growl, he stirred and reached for your ankle. You staggered back, your heart hammering. 

“Stay down goddamit!” you shouted, raising the candlestick again.

He pushed himself up, eyes wild with rage. “You’re gonna pay for that,” he spat, lunging once more.

This time, you were ready.

As he reached for you, you twisted to the side, bringing your knee up sharply into his stomach. He grunted in pain, doubling over, and you seized the opportunity to land a sharp elbow to his nose. The crack was satisfying, but brief; he roared and grabbed at you blindly.

You ducked under his arm, grabbing a chair and shoving it between you. Luke, half-blind with fury, kicked the chair aside, but it gave you enough time to reach the kitchen. You grabbed the first thing you could find—a cast-iron skillet.

He stumbled into the kitchen after you, a trickle of blood from his nose mingling with the sweat and grime on his face.

“You just had to put up a fight, huh? Just like her.” he snarled.

“Stay back,” you warned, brandishing the skillet, “I’ll fucking do it.”

Luke laughed, a deranged sound, and lunged. You swung the skillet with all your might. It connected with his shoulder, the impact reverberating up your arm. He staggered, and you swung again, aiming for his head. The skillet hit with his temple, the sound echoing through the room and he collapsed, finally unmoving.

Oh fuck.

For a moment, the house was deathly silent.

You dropped the skillet, your hands trembling.

Kneeling down, you checked for a pulse. It was faint, but there. Relief and horror flooded through you simultaneously.  You almost killed him. There was so much blood. It stained the old carpet, the candlestick, your hands.

You backed away, your mind racing. 

What if he died? What if you’d killed him? Oh god, oh god. This wasn’t supposed to happen. You just wanted him gone, out of your life for good.

With trembling fingers, you picked up your phone, the weight of what had just happened settling heavily on your shoulders. Your heart raced with adrenaline and fear, each breath feeling labored as you scrolled through your contacts. You needed help, someone who could make sense of the chaos now consuming your life.

The screen lit up with familiar names, but your vision was blurred with tears.

Without fully realizing it, your finger landed on a contact you hadn’t called ever before. The phone rang, and you kept an eye on Luke, praying he wouldn’t move. It rang for only ten seconds, but it felt like an eternity.

“Maybank?”

“Rafe?” You gasped out, your voice breaking as you clutched the phone to your ear.

There was a brief pause, and then his voice came through, “Hey, hey. What's wrong? Are you okay?”

But you couldn't speak.

Hearing his voice after all this time, after everything that had happened, it was too much.

The fear, the relief, the chaos, all of it came crashing down, and your breath hitched.

You couldn’t think.

“Hey! Are you there? Talk to me!” Rafe's voice grew more urgent.

You tried to speak, but the words caught in your throat, a sob escaping instead. Your knees gave out, and you sank to the floor, the phone slipping slightly in your grasp. The room felt like it was closing in on you, the walls pressing down, the silence deafening except for your labored breathing.

“Where are you?!”

You focused on his words, trying to match your breath to his timbre.

In. Out. In. Out.

It helped, if only a little. The shaking in your hands lessened, but the fear never eased.

“I think... I think I killed my dad.”

You looked at the bloodstained carpet, the unconscious body of your father still lying there, and the horror of it all washed over you again. 

“Are you home? Are you safe?”

You glanced around the living room, the familiar space now a scene of violence.

“I’m home. JJ isn’t here. I-I don’t know where he is.”

“I’m coming,” Rafe said firmly. “Stay there. Don’t touch anything. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Rafe—” You began, but he cut you off.

“I’ll be there soon. Just hang on, okay?”

The minutes ticked by, and you found yourself staring at the door, willing Rafe to appear.

What were you going to do? How were you going to live with yourself if Luke died? This wasn’t you.

You didn’t hurt people. You just wanted a little bit of peace in your life, some quiet. Why did things never work out the way you wanted them to?

Finally, after what felt like a lifetime, you heard the sound of a car pulling up outside. Moments later, the door burst open, and there he was.

“Maybank?”

He called out for you as he stepped inside.

Seconds later, he was standing in front of you, scanning the room, analyzing the scene before him. He rushed to your side, pulling you into his arms without hesitation. 

“It’s okay. I’m here. You’re gonna be okay.”

He pressed a gentle kiss to your temple as he guided you away from the scene, his eyes lingering briefly on your father’s motionless figure.

“What happened?” He asked softly, leading you to sit on the couch. 

“He just showed up out of nowhere. He wanted money. I told him to leave, but he wouldn’t. He got violent, and I... “

“It’s okay.”

His warmth helped.

But you still felt the overwhelming weight guilt eating you alive. The blood on your hands—it all felt surreal, like a nightmare you couldn't wake up from.

“Have you called 911?”

You shook your head, lips trembling as you tried not to cry.

“Do you want me to?”

The thought of police cars and paramedics filling the house, made your stomach churn. The fear of what might happen if Luke woke up, or if he didn't, paralyzed you. It took you a second to realize he already had his phone out, pressed to his ear.

"I need an ambulance.”

He stayed on the line with the dispatcher, giving them your address and the details. Your ears were ringing, unable to make out exactly what he was saying. 

"They're on their way," he reassured softly. "It’s gonna be okay."

You nodded weakly, grappling with the aftermath. Rafe stayed close, seated next to you.

"They'll take him to the hospital," He murmured, more to himself than anyone else. "He'll get the help he needs."

"I... I didn't mean to..." you finally managed to whisper, your voice trembling.

Rafe’s hands griped your own, despite the blood coating it, "I know.”

The minutes felt like hours as you waited for the ambulance. You just wanted it to be over.

When the paramedics finally arrived, Rafe guided them to Luke's unconscious form while you sat numbly on the couch. They immediately went to work, assessing his condition and preparing him for transport. Police officers soon followed, asking questions, and taking statements. Rafe handled most of the interaction, shielding you from the brunt of their inquiries. You watched in stunned silence as they worked.

He stayed close by, offering quiet reassurances and answering the paramedics’ questions.

After what felt like an eternity, they finally moved Luke onto a stretcher and carried him out of the house. Rafe followed them to the door, speaking briefly with one of the paramedics before they loaded Luke into the ambulance and drove away.

He kneeled in front of you, “You can’t say here, okay? They called JJ, he’s on the mainland, but he’ll take the first ferry down here tomorrow.”

You nodded weakly, your body feeling as if it had been drained of all energy.

"Come on," Rafe urged, helping you to your feet. "Let's get you out of here."

He guided you out of the house and into his truck, the engine already running. The drive was quiet, the only sound being the hum of the engine and the occasional sniffle from you.

Rafe reached over, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. You slumped back in the plush seat, eyes closed, trying to steady your breathing, too embarrassed to look at him.

“I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

You didn't even register where you were headed until the truck pulled to a stop. When you finally opened your eyes, you realized you were at Rafe’s place.

Tanneyhill.

It felt odd, being there after so long, and under such circumstances. He helped you out of the truck, guiding you inside with a protective arm around your shoulders. 

"Sit down," he said gently, leading you to the living room. "I'll get you some water."

You sank into the expensive couch, feeling the soft cushions envelop you. It was weird sitting in Rafe’s home after everything that had happened.

He returned quickly with a glass of water, pressing it into your trembling hands.

"Drink," he instructed, sitting beside you.

You took a small sip, the cool water soothing your dry throat. Rafe watched you closely, concern etched across his features.

"You need to rest," he said. "I’ll be right here."

"But I—"

"You need to rest," he repeated firmly, but not unkindly. "We can talk more in the morning.”

There was a part of you that wanted to argue, to insist that you were fine, that you didn’t need his help. You’d done this for years, alone.

And yet, here he was, offering you help. Maybe it was the exhaustion, maybe you just missed him, but for once in your life, you didn’t fight him. 

You nodded, letting him take you upstairs.

"Let's get you cleaned up," he said, noticing the blood still on your skin and clothes. "You can’t go to bed like this."

At this point, you were too tired to speak, simply following his instructions as he led you inside, guiding you to the bathroom.

"Here," he said, turning on the shower and adjusting the temperature. "Take your time. I'll leave some clean clothes for you right outside the door."

You nodded gratefully, stepping into the bathroom and closing the door behind you.

The sound of the water running was comforting, a small sense of normalcy. You stripped off your clothes, your hands trembling slightly as you pulled your shorts off.

The sight of the dried blood on your hands and shirt made you want to burst into tears, again.

Stepping into the shower, you let the warm water cascade over you, washing away the grime and blood. The heat soothed your tense muscles, and you stood there for a long time, eyes closed, letting the water work its magic. 

Slowly, you began to wash yourself, scrubbing away the remnants of your father’s presence. The soap smelled of lavender, and somehow you found yourself smiling for a second, realizing this was Rafe’s scent earlier. You washed your hair, the routine bringing you back to the present. As the water rinsed off, clarity slowly returned. You were still scared shitless, but that shower gave you a moment of peace. Stepping out, you wrapped yourself in a fluffy towel and took a deep breath.

Rafe had left a pair of sweatpants, boxers and a t-shirt outside the door, just as he said he would.

You dried off and changed into them, feeling a bit more like yourself. They were a little big, but they were warm and comfortable.

They were Rafe’s. 

You opened the bathroom door to find him waiting in the hallway. He seemed relieved to see you and you hated yourself for making him worry so bad.

"Feeling better?" 

"A little," you admitted. "Thank you."

He nodded. "Come on, let's get you to bed."

He led you to what you assumed was a guest room, the bed already made up with fresh sheets. 

"Sit here," Rafe said, motioning to the edge of the bed. He disappeared for a moment, returning with a first-aid kit. He kneeled in front of you again, this time with a different purpose. "Lemme see your hands."

You hesitated, then slowly extended them. They were scratched and bruised, remnants of how fucked up your father was.

Rafe’s touch was gentle as he cleaned the wounds, using antiseptic wipes to carefully remove the blood that you hadn’t been able to get rid of in the shower. 

“This might sting a bit,” he murmured, his voice soothing despite the warning.

It made you wince, but you bit your lip, staying silent.

"I’m sorry," he said, noticing your discomfort.

"’M used to it. It’s okay,” You nodded, biting your lip as he cleaned the wound. 

The antiseptic burned, but you focused on Rafe’s face, the way his brow furrowed in concentration, the softness in his eyes as he wrapped your hand with practiced care. 

“I didn’t want to drag you into my mess.”

Rafe paused, his hands stilling for a moment.

“You’re not a mess.”

Your chuckle was short and stifled, “Right.”

His fingers continued their work, securing the bandage with gentle precision. “I mean it.”

You swallowed hard, the weight of his words pressing against the barrier you'd built around your heart. “Why—Why did you pick up the phone?”

“You know why.”

Rafe’s tone was final, leaving no room for conversation as he finished wrapping your hand and set it gently in your lap.

“There,” he said, “All done.”

You sank into the mattress as he pulled the blankets over you.

He was tucking you to bed, so…lovely, so not like the Rafe you met years ago. It made your heart hurt. No one had ever cleaned your wounds. 

“C-Can you stay here?”

Rafe paused, turning from where he was adjusting the pillows, "I don’t think—”

“Please.”

Without a word, he slipped off his shoes, climbing into bed beside you. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. The warmth of his body against yours, his steady heartbeat, the scent of lavender and something uniquely Rafe—it all made you feel safer than you had in a long time.

"It's okay. I'm here. You're safe."

You buried your face in his chest, feeling the tears start to flow again, but this time they were tears of release, of letting go. Rafe held you tighter, his hands gently rubbing your back, his touch tender.

He didn't say anything more, just held you. As the minutes passed, your breathing gradually slowed, matching the rhythm of his. The tension in your body began to melt away, your eyes grew heavy. 

"Thank you," Your voice was muffled against his chest. "For everything."

Rafe pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head.

"Sleep.”

You snuggled closer, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek, finally feeling at home.

You woke up the next morning to an empty bed, the warmth of Rafe’s embrace replaced by the cold reality of the previous night’s events. The room was dimly lit, the morning sun casting soft rays through the curtains. You sat up, your mind hazy with sleep, and glanced around, your heart sinking as you realized Rafe was nowhere to be seen.

For a moment, you wondered if it had all been a dream, but the dried blood on your clothes, lying by the floor and the faint echo of fear told you otherwise. You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself as you swung your legs over the side of the bed. 

Your father, the struggle, the blood—Rafe’s comforting presence.

You felt an immense amount of guilt as you remembered how you had leaned on him for support after you cut him out of your life.

He was already dealing with so much because of his own father, and now you had burdened him with your problems.

You rose from the bed, the oversized sweatpants and t-shirt Rafe had given you hanging loosely on your frame. You made your way to the door, listening for any sounds that might indicate where he had gone. As you walked down the hallway, you heard a faint voice coming from the kitchen. Your heart skipped a beat as you recognized Rafe’s voice, speaking in low, urgent tones.

You hesitated for a moment, your curiosity getting the better of you. Slowly, you made your way towards the kitchen, the sound of Rafe’s voice growing clearer with each step.

“…I don’t care what it fucking takes,” Rafe all but spat, his tone filled with determination. “Yeah, I know the charges will stick. Just make sure he doesn’t get out on bail. I don’t want him anywhere near her again.”

He paused, listening intently. You took a step closer, peering around the corner to see him standing by the kitchen counter, his phone pressed to his ear. The intensity in his eyes was unlike anything you’d seen before.

“No, she’s fine,” he continued, “But I want to make sure she stays that way.”

You stopped in your tracks, your breath catching in your throat. Rafe was talking about your father, and the realization hit you in the face.

He was trying to protect you, even now.

“Rafe…” 

Rafe turned around, his eyes widening as he saw you standing there.

“I’ll call you later." He quickly ended the call, slipping his phone into his pocket as he approached you, “Hey, you’re awake,” he said, trying to sound casual but failing miserably.

“What were you doing?” you asked, “Who were you talking to?”

“Hmm?”

“Rafe,” You warn, too tired to play games, “Who were you talking to?”

He sighed, looking impossibly uncomfortable as you sized him up, “My lawyer. Getting a restraining order for you.”

The confirmation nearly made your brain split into two.

“What?”

Rafe hesitated, knowing he couldn't hide the truth from you. Not that he even tried lately. He ran a hand through his buzzed hair, a gesture you recognized as a sign of his unease. 

"I'm trying to get a restraining order against your father."

"Why?"

His eyes bore into yours, a silent plea for you to understand, “Because you need one.”

Rafe was going to bat for you, putting himself in the line of fire to protect you from the man who had haunted your life for so long. Tears welled up in your eyes as the enormity of his actions sank in.

“I’m sorry.”

He ran a hand over his face.

“Maybank, what happened last night… it’s not something you should ever have to deal with. I should’ve been here sooner. I should’ve—"

“You couldn’t have known.”

Rafe shook his head, "I should've been here.”

You walked closer, closing the distance between you. "Rafe, you don't owe me anything."

He reached out tentatively, his hand hovering in the air for a moment before he gently cupped your cheek. His touch was familiar, comforting and you leaned into it, closing your eyes briefly.

"I owe you everything," he murmured. 

You let out a shaky breath, “Don’t say that.”

He tilted your face up, forcing you to look into his eyes, his thumb brushing away a stray tear, “You think I’d be there if it wasn’t for you? Shit— Pretty, look around. It’s just me.”

Your heart pounded in your ribcage, the sincerity in his eyes making it hard to breathe.

You had spent so long building walls, convincing yourself that you didn’t need anyone, that you could handle everything on your own.

“You’ve been alone?” You all but sob, “You’ve been here all this time? By yourself?”

Rafe’s jaw tightened, “Don’t cry. Please don’t cry,” His hand on your cheek trembled slightly, the vulnerability in his voice laying his heart bare. “I’m okay, see?”

You reached up, covering his hand with yours, “I was so angry at you.”

“Baby—”

“You don’t understand,” you explained, voice cracking slightly, “I just... I didn’t know what to do.”

He drew you closer, his other arm wrapping around your waist, pulling you against him. You melted into him instantly. 

"I deserved it,” Rafe muttered, his breath warm against your ear.

You shook your head, tears streaming down your cheeks.

"You told me you were getting clean, that you were seeing a psychologist, and I-I wasn’t there.”

Rafe’s grip on your hand tightened, his eyes pleading with you to understand. “I was a train wreck, and I hurt you. You needed to protect yourself.”

“But I should’ve been there for you,” you insisted, your voice breaking. “You were trying to get better, and I just... walked away.”

“Jesus Christ Maybank” He tried to laugh, but it sounded more like a groan, “Stop the waterfloods, you’re gonna make me cry.”

“Shut up,” You let out a genuine laugh, despite the ugly crying, “’M trying to apologize—“

“You don’t have to, baby,” He cut you off, shaking his head, “Not to me, or anyone else.”

His breath mingled with yours, his presence soothing you in a way you hadn’t felt in months.

Your heart pounded in your chest as he closed the distance, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, hesitant kiss. It was as if he was testing the waters, ensuring you were okay with this, and when you didn’t pull away, the kiss deepened. His hand moved to the back of your neck, holding you gently but firmly as his lips explored yours.

You felt yourself give in to him, your hands gripping his shirt to make sure it was real.

You’d dreamed about him for too damn long to understand the difference. The kiss was slow, deliberate…loving. Each touch, each movement, was a reassurance, a silent promise that he was here, that he wouldn’t let go. 

As you broke apart, gasping for air, lips swollen and shining, Rafe rested his forehead against yours again, his breathing ragged.

“Can’t believe you made me fall in love with a pogue.”

Oh.

You blinked, caught off guard.

“In love?”

Rafe bit his lower lip, “Yeah.”

You could see the anxiety roaring inside him. The way his shoulders seemed to squeeze back in, eyes dropping to your lips. 

"I never thought I'd fall for a kook," you teased gently, brushing your fingers lightly against his cheek.

“Don’t play with me,” He huffed, dropping his head against your shoulder, teeth grazing against your skin, “Fucking hell.”

You tilted his chin up gently, meeting his gaze with sincerity, “I mean it, Cameron.”

His eyes examined yours for a long moment as if confirming your words. Then, without a word, he closed the distance between you once more. This time, there was no hesitation, no uncertainty.

His hands roamed over your body, pulling you closer as if he couldn’t get enough. The kiss was so different from the one before. You could feel the heat building between you, that undeniable chemistry pulling you together.

His hands slipped under your shirt, his shirt, the touch of his fingertips on your bare skin sending shivers down your spine. Rafe’s lips trailed down your neck, his teeth nipping at the sensitive skin there, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. You gasped, tilting your head to give him better access. His hands were everywhere, exploring, caressing, making you dizzy with want.

“I need you,” your voice's breathless, fingers clutching at his shoulders.

He paused, lifting his head to look at you, blue eyes darken with desire.

“You’re hurt,” he gulped, “Last night—”

“I don’t care,” you replied, shaking your head. “You fucked me after I got shot.”

"That night was different. We were different."

You nodded, the memory of that night vivid in your mind. The urgency, the desperation, the way you had clung to each other as if you were drowning.

He hesitated for a moment longer, his thumb brushing over the bruise on your cheek. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t,” you promised, pulling him back to you. “I trust you.”

That seemed to be all the encouragement he needed. His restrain visibly slipped away as his lips found yours again as he lifted you effortlessly, carrying you upstairs, to bed and then laying you down gently as if you were the most precious thing in the world.

Rafe hovered over you, his eyes never leaving yours as he stripped off his shirt. You reached up, tracing the lines of his muscles, marveling at the way they moved under your touch. He leaned down, capturing your lips in another searing kiss, his hands working on the buttons of your shirt.

The clothes disappeared in a blur, and then it was just the two of you, skin against skin, only underwear. His hands and lips were everywhere.

“Y’know how much I missed you?”

You sighed, a smile playing at your lips as you cupped his face, “Tell me.”

Rafe’s breath hitched, his eyes locked onto yours, filled with a mixture of tenderness and desperation.

“Every damn day. Every fucking minute. I’d close my eyes and all I could see was you.”

His voice trailed off, but his hands spoke for him, tracing patterns along your sides, sending shivers through you. His touch was reverent as if he was rediscovering you, piece by piece.

You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him closer, your bodies aligning perfectly. 

“I’m here now.”

Rafe’s lips curved into a smile against your skin, his hands sliding down to grip your hips, holding you steady. “You sure you’re okay?” 

You nodded, pressing a kiss to his jaw, “More than okay. I want this. I want you.”

He kissed his way down your neck, his lips leaving a trail of heat as they moved lower.

“I love the way you laugh," he purred against your skin, his lips trailing down your collarbone. "The way your eyes light up when you talk about something you care about. How strong you are, even when you don't realize it."

You shivered at his words, your heart swelling with love for the man holding you so tenderly. "Rafe..."

He kissed your lips softly, silencing you.

"I love the way you look at me," he continued, his hands slipping under your shirt, his shirt, caressing the bare skin beneath. "Like I'm the only person in the world. Like I matter."

You could feel tears welling up in your eyes, overwhelmed by the intensity of his words, his touch.

"You do matter," you whispered, your voice breaking. “You matter to me.”

Rafe's hands moved lower, teasing the waistband of your, his, boxers.

“I love how brave you are," he said, his voice husky, "How you face everything, even when it's terrifying."

He slid them down slowly, his eyes never leaving your face.

"Last night," he said, his voice trembling slightly. "I was terrified. I thought I was gonna lose you.”

You reached for him, your fingers tangling in his grown-out hair, pulling him closer. "I'm here," your lips brushed against his, "I'm right here."

Rafe's hands found your hips, his touch firm and reassuring. "I love you," he said again,  "And I need you to know that. Shit, I need you to feel it."

You nodded, tears streaming down your cheeks. "I do. I feel it."

He kissed you deeply, his tongue exploring your mouth with a desperate urgency. He took his time, worshiping you with every touch, every kiss, making sure you knew exactly how much you meant to him.

His lips found your breasts, kissing and teasing, his hands caressing your sides, your hips. You moaned, arching into his touch, your body trembling with need. "Rafe..."

He looked up at you, his eyes dark with desire, a small smile playing at his lips.

"I love the way you say my name. Like it's the only word that matters."

He kissed his way down your stomach, his hands sliding lower, teasing you, driving you wild with anticipation. "I love the way you taste," he breathed, hot against your skin. "The way you feel."

You gasped, your body arching off the bed as his fingers found you, teasing, exploring. 

"Rafe, please..."

He kissed his way back up your body, his lips finding yours in a searing kiss.

"I've got you. I'm here. Tell me if you want me to stop."

You shook your head, urging him on. "Don't stop.”

He kissed your hip bones, his hands gently spreading your legs wider. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, and the intensity in them made your breath catch. He moved lower, his lips trailing down your inner thigh, his fingers lightly caressing your other leg.

When his mouth finally reached your core, you gasped, your body arching off the bed. His tongue flicked out, teasing you, tasting you.

The sensation was electric, sending jolts of pleasure through you. Fuck you missed this.

Rafe’s grip on your thighs tightened, holding you in place as he continued his slow, deliberate assault.

He explored you with his tongue, each movement precise, intentional. He found a rhythm that made your head spin, alternating between gentle flicks and firm strokes. You moaned, your fingers tightening in his short strands, pulling him closer, needing more.

Rafe responded to your silent plea, his tongue delving deeper, his hands gripping your thighs harder. The pressure built, an overwhelming wave of pleasure that threatened to consume you. He groaned against you, the vibration sending you even higher.

"Oh, Rafe," you gasped, your breath coming in short, desperate bursts. "Don't stop. Please, don't stop."

He didn't.

He increased his pace, his tongue moving faster, his hands sliding under your hips, lifting you slightly to give him better access. You could feel the heat pooling in your core, the pleasure building to an unbearable peak.

Rafe’s mouth never left you, his tongue driving you to the brink. You cried out his name, your body trembling as you teetered on the edge. He sucked gently, his tongue flicking rapidly, and that was all it took. You shattered, not a wave, but an entire ocean of ecstasy crashing over you, your vision going white as the pleasure consumed you.

He continued his ministrations, guiding you through your orgasm, his tongue and lips never slowing, drawing out every last bit of pleasure.

When you finally came down, your body spent and trembling, Rafe kissed his way back up your body, his hands soothing the aftershocks with gentle caresses.

He hovered over you, his lips capturing yours in a deep, passionate kiss. You could taste yourself on him, the intimacy of it making your heart swell.

"My perfect girl," he growled against your lips.

Your bruised hands roamed over his broad shoulders, feeling the tension in his muscles as he held himself back. He shifted, pressing his hips against yours, letting you feel his arousal. You moaned into his mouth, your hands moving lower, wanting to touch him, to feel him inside you.

Rafe’s breath hitched as your fingers brushed against the waistband of his boxers, teasing him.

“Are you sure about this?” He asked again. 

He cared so much it nearly sent you into an emotional spiral again.

 “I’ve never been more sure.”

That was all he needed.

In one swift motion, he shed his boxers, and you took in the sight of him, hard and ready. He moved over you, positioning himself between your legs, his eyes never leaving yours. He took his time, teasing you with his fingers, making sure you were ready for him.

You gasped, arching your back as he entered you slowly, his movements deliberate, and controlled.

God, you missed feeling every inch of him. 

He paused, giving you a moment to adjust, his forehead resting against yours. “Fuck, I missed this,” he groaned, his voice strained with restraint.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him to move. “Don’t hold back,” you almost sobbed, your breath hot against his ear. “I want all of you.”

Rafe needed no further encouragement.

He began to move, his hips rolling in a steady rhythm, each thrust deep and controlled. The pleasure built with every movement, the sensation of him filling you completely driving you wild. Your fingers dug into his back, your nails leaving marks as you clung to him, needing the connection.

He kissed you deeply, his tongue mimicking the movements of his hips, the sensation of his lips on yours amplifying the pleasure. His hands roamed over your body, one sliding under your back to pull you closer, the other tangling in your hair, holding you in place as he devoured you. You matched his rhythm, you bodies moving together in perfect harmony. Rafe’s pace quickened, his thrusts becoming more urgent, his control slipping.

His words, the sound of his voice, sent shivers down your spine.

“Don't stop, baby- Oh, fuckkk. Please, d-don't stop."

"I won't," he promised, his voice a low growl. “Never stopping."

With those words, he lost the last of his restraint, his thrusts becoming harder, faster, driving you both toward the edge. The room filled with the sounds of your passion, the slap of skin against skin that made you absolute feral for him, the desperate moans and gasps of pleasure.

You didn’t understand the sudden urge, but before you could think about it, you were pushing against Rafe’s chest.

“Your turn,” you murmured, flipping him onto his back with ease and straddling him. 

He looked up at you slightly startled, hands resting on your plush hips as you settled over him and you swore he never looked prettier.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathed, his hands sliding up your sides, over your tits, cupping them gently. “Every part of you.”

You leaned down, his stubble grazing your skin, burning you most deliciously. You feel him rubbing against you, his tip touching your clit just right and you couldn’t help the satisfied moan that escaped your lips. You broke the kiss, sitting up and grinding your hips against his, feeling the heat building between you again.

“You like that?” you teased, your voice low and sultry, your fingers trailing down his chest.

“Fuck, yes,” he whimpered, his grip on your hips tightening. “You feel amazing.”

You reached between you, guiding him to your entrance. The sensation of him sliding back inside you was electric, drawing a gasp from both of you. You started to move, slow at first, savoring the feeling of him filling you completely.

Rafe’s hands roamed over your body, caressing, teasing, driving you wild. “God, you’re perfect,” he murmured, his eyes locked onto yours. “Ride me, baby. I want to see you come again.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, spurring you on. You increased your pace, rolling your hips, finding the angle that drove you both to the edge. Your hands braced against his chest, your nails digging into his skin as you rode him harder, faster.

“Fuck, Rafe,” you gasped, your breath coming in short, desperate bursts. “You feel so good inside me.”

He groaned, “You can’t be real,” his hands guided your hips, urging you to move faster. “This can’t be real—Shit, keep doing that.”

The pleasure built with every movement, your bodies moving together like they never parted.

You could feel the heat pooling in your core, the tension building, ready to snap. Rafe’s hands slid up to your breasts, teasing your nipples, sending jolts of pleasure through you.

“Come for me, baby,” Rafe urged, his voice rough with desire. “I want to feel you come around me.”

His words pushed you over the edge. You cried out, your body arching, your vision going white as the orgasm crashed over you. Rafe groaned, his hips thrusting up to meet yours as he followed you into ecstasy, his release filling you, pretty hisses and groans filling your ears.

You collapsed against him, both of you breathless, spent, and completely satisfied. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close, his lips brushing against your ear.

You buried your face in his neck, overwhelmed by how loved you felt. You’d never felt anything like this before. His heartbeat echoed against your chest.

As you started to shift to look at him, you noticed he was staring at you with an expression that caught you off guard. His eyes were wide, intense and unwavering, almost as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

"What?" you asked softly, a smile tugging at your lips despite the slight confusion.

Rafe blinked, as if snapping out of a trance. His hand reached up to gently trace your cheekbone.

"I can't believe you're real."

"Rafe..." 

He silenced you with a gentle kiss, his lips brushing against yours in a tender caress. "I love you, Pretty Maybank."

"I love you too.”

[yawujin]

Do you think you can do the allies + axis (separate) x a bratty s/o that’s super needy but constantly try’s to demand stuff and boss them around and is just kinda a very run of the mill brat. Like how would they deal with them?..and can it be a bit nsfw….pretty please with a cherry on top..

hehe sure ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧ here you go ! 🪄

{ request } allies & axis x a bratty! s/o 💭 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

type/content warnings • nsfw content , established relationship , they/them pronouns used , mentions of bondage , marking , rough sex , sub/dom dynamics

allies ♥︎

america/alfred f. jones

he finds their neediness kind of cute, writing it off as something that just comes with being in a relationship with them. soon, he comes to find out just how bossy they are. usually, he's a pushover and it's fairly easy to make him do the stuff they want, but every now and then he doesn't give in, puts his foot down and reminds them he too can be bossy, in charge and, that he knows how to put a brat in their place. they must be careful with whatever sexual favor they ask him to do, because he might just turn around and make them do it instead (i feel like he'd be petty in that way, and use them for his entertainment) 'can't tell me what to do now that your mouth is full, huh? '

england/arthur kirkland

whenever his partner is acting up─if he feels like it─he'll take the calm route and plead with them. 'please, love, behave...' however, if he's feels they are demanding too much from him, his attitude will switch up. he'll be very domineering, crass and rather rough with how he handles them from then on.

'say it... who do you belong to?'

france/francis bonnefoy

he gives them what they want, within reason. if they demand too much, don't worry, he puts up a good bargain. when they continue to act up, he'll turn serious─giving them one final ultimatum. "do as i say, or you will be shown who is truly the boss here." knowing them, and how they act...france gears up to give them something he's sure to make them behave... at least for a little while

canada/matthieu williams

seeing as he is already bossed around by his colleagues, they can bet he is not going to take the same treatment from his own partner. he's quick to make himself known as the one in charge, faster than they thought. he tells them to 'shut up and quit with the brattiness before i fuck it out of you' in such a sweet voice, it sounded more like a loving promise than a threat.

russia/ivan braginsky

don't. even. try. he shuts that bratty act of theirs down so quick, they barely have time to start. he can only take being bossed around for so long , until he finally has enough. he has his hands wrapped tightly around their waist as he rests his chin on their shoulder. "please behave, won't you? it will make me very happy. you want both of us to be happy, yes?" and in case they couldn't tell, that's russian for don't fuck around and find out.

china/yao wang

he's very secure in himself that─he doesn't feel the need to intimidate them into submission. he doesn't do everything they ask of him, only the things he wants to do or wants them to enjoy. he has his own special way of dealing with them and that's getting them hot and bothered enough to try and rile him up. do things for him. that's right, china finesses his way into making them do something for him instead of the other way around. it usually involves promising them some type of reward for good behavior. but first, they must please him and act accordingly. "...you're doing so good for me." he praises.

axis ♥︎

n. italy/feliciano vargas

has a method similar to china's. it's a give and take relationship. italy does a few things for them, and in return they behave.

usually turning out really wholesome, with italy cuddling with them since they're soooo needy─he admits that it kind of turns him on when they boss him around so much. "i wouldn't mind being there anytime you need me." he sighs happily, burying his face deeper into their arms.

germany/ludwig beilschmidt

he usually likes it when they tell him what to do. he's a very organized man who is very good at following orders. he doesn't like it so much when they act like a brat, so he makes sure to take care of that ASAP. he's lowkey begging them to behave, telling them that he'll do anything to make them act right...not knowing that he's kind of allowing them to act up even more. poor germany...he's a lil' confused but he's got the spirit. "if i fuck you like this, then will you behave?"

japan/kiku honda

he's literally like no then goes on to use shibari as a way to torture them into submission. "if you keep acting like that, i'll have you tied up everyday from now on." it's a tempting threat but they know that japan's willpower and discipline could really mean that he'd have them tied up without relief for a long, long time. it's their choice on whether or not they want to behave, but they will always know what will happen if they don't. this makes it especially exciting for japan, with him knowing that their behavior will be unpredictable each day.

s. italy/lovino vargas

he lets them carry on throughout the day, holding himself back and pretending that their brattiness does not have any effect on him. that is, until the end of the day, where he makes them beg before him. he would want to hear them plead for him to not be so rough, when that was all he could think about the entire day. he ends up leaving a few marks behind to remind them what will happen if they don't behave. "mmm." he hums lowly. "this is what you get for trying to tell me what to do..."

prussia/gilbert beilschmidt

okay so, it takes him a while to get bothered by it because their brattiness is all just kind of a game to him. sure, he gives them what they want but as he slowly sees that they won't be satisfied until they get a rise out of him, he begins to think of ways he can tease them back, make them beg him to stop. he laughs when he sees his brat whine. "is this not what you wanted?" he grins. "i know it's what i wanted." prussia revels in his ability to make them act like this. he hopes that they continue simply because he loves the feeling of dominating them.

[honeyjars-sims]

3.37 Soulmates

Today I’m spending some time with Pops. While I was camping, he found out that the LGBT center where he’s been working forever will be closing in just a couple weeks and he’ll be out of a job. It wasn’t unexpected–they’ve been having funding issues for a while–but it still sucks. Unfortunately, Dad is in San My for a gig this weekend, so I figure Pops could use some company.

“I’m really sorry about your job,” I tell him as he finishes washing the dishes. “Are you guys gonna be okay?”

“We have a good amount in savings, and I’ve already been in contact with someone at the LGBT center in Del Sol. They’ve all but offered me a position there that pays more and has more flexibility.”

“Wow, that’s great! So I guess you won’t have much of a reason to stay in Evergreen Harbor, then.”

“Not really. We could probably find a smaller place closer to the LGBT center.”

I know what that means. There’s no reason my parents should have to pay for another 3 bedroom house when their kids are grown. “I guess it’s time for me to find a place, too.”

“I’m sorry to spring it on you like this, but I think you’re ready for it.”

“Yeah, I am. I really appreciate you guys taking me in for as long as you did.”

“You’ve come a long way, Johnny. You’ll be just fine.”

“What about you? You’ll be all alone when Dad is traveling.”

“That’s the good thing about this job. I’ll be able to work remotely some, so I can travel with Dad sometimes.”

“Oh, that’s good then. I know it’s not easy for you two to be away from each other.” I pause. There’s something that’s been on my mind since I came back from my camping trip, and Pops seems like the perfect person to help me figure it out. “Do you think you and Dad are soulmates?”

“Soulmates? Hmm.” He stops for a moment to consider. “No, I don’t think we are,” he finishes.

“Really? Why not?” I'm taken aback by his answer. What does he mean, they're not soulmates?

“Well, you remember how Dad and I met, right?”

“Yeah, you saw each other at a protest and sparks flew or something cheesy like that.”

“Mm-hmm. But I don’t think I’ve ever told you the full story of what happened that night. Before I ended up at the protest, I was at your mom’s apartment–she told me she needed to talk to me about something. Instead, I told her I was gay and couldn’t be in a relationship with her anymore, and I left–without finding out that she was pregnant.”

“Oh. She was going to tell you that night?”

“Yes, until she decided that I wasn’t the kind of man that should raise children. If things had been different–if she had told me she was pregnant before I came out to her–I would have stayed.”

“You would’ve kept pretending to be straight?” I can't imagine what his life would have been like but it sounds pretty terrible. And to think he would have chosen that because of me and Chantal?

“For a while at least. And who knows, maybe eventually I would have found someone else to love and I’d still be happy. But I wouldn’t have met your dad that night.”

“Ok, but that didn’t happen. What does that have to do with being soulmates?”

“Because, Johnny, if I’d stayed with her a little longer then the things that happened to you and Chantal at your mom’s house wouldn’t have happened. I would have been there to keep you safe and well cared for. I just can’t believe that your Dad and I were meant to be together when the circumstances that led to us meeting were also the circumstances that led to my children being hurt and neglected.”

“Well, maybe it’s fate and you would’ve met a different way.” I'm having a hard time wrapping my head around what Pops is saying. A world where he and Dad aren't together just doesn't make sense.

“Maybe. But I don’t think any of these hypotheticals really matter. Like you said, that’s not what happened. What matters is that today, in the here and now, I can’t imagine my life without him. Any reason in particular why you’re thinking about soulmates?” He raises his eyebrows knowingly.

“I guess it’s more that I’m wondering how you know if someone is the right person for you, but it kind of sounds like it’s not that simple.”

“Well, a sign isn’t going to drop down from the heavens that says ‘This person is the one,’ but it doesn’t have to be complicated. Find the person you can’t imagine your life without. I don’t know if that’s what you were wanting to hear, but I hope it answers your question.”

Find the person you can’t live without. Maybe there aren’t signs falling from the sky, but those words are about as close as I’ll get. “It does," I tell him. "It may not be the answer I was expecting, but I think it cleared something up for me.”

“I see. Do you want to talk about it?"

Normally I would jump at the chance to get some input, but now I don't feel like I need it. I shake my head. “No, I think I can handle it from here.” The thought makes me nervous, but I can’t avoid this. I need to talk to Lacey.

Previous | Beginning of story | Beginning of chapter | Next

[winchestersisterimaginessss]

Request: If you want can you write one about shapeshifters confusing the sister? She doesn't know who is real and breaks down not knowing who she should trust and who to kill?

Sam and Dean Winchester x Sister!Reader

A/N: I just kept writing and writing about this one lol oops. I also didn’t proofread so my bad. Requests are open and I’m working hard on getting to everyone’s! Hope you like this:))

Lately, you were on edge and completely weighed down by the constant pressure of trying to save the world. It felt like the world was resting on your shoulders, and in many ways, it was. It left you anxious and overwhelmed, constantly worrying, no matter what you were doing. Your brothers could see how much it was affecting you, especially since you were only 16, and they wanted to do everything they could to protect you from the mental toll it was taking on you. You had just woken up when you heard a gentle knock on your door.

“Yeah?” You asked groggily, rubbing your eyes.

Sam pushed the door open and sent you a soft smile before walking to sit on the edge of your bed. You immediatly pushed yourself up in a sitting position and looked at him with worry.

“What?” You asked slightly panicking, hoping nothing bad happened. You knew he was about to get touchy feely and you were anxious to know why. Did something happen? Is someone hurt? Did someone die? Where’s Dean? Your thoughts were cut off by Sam placing a hand on your knee.

“Hey, it’s alright, everything’s okay.” He reassured, examining your worried face. He knew how anxious you’ve been lately so he sent you a pained smile before he continued, “Dean and I were talking and we thought it would be best if you stayed back instead of going on the hunt today.” He said, already knowing this conversation could go one of two ways.

“But-“ You started before he cut you off.

“Take a rest day bug, it’s okay. We can see the toll this has been taking on you and you need a mental reset.” He said softly.

“But, I-I’m okay.” You smiled, but your voice cracked and betrayed you.

“No, you’re not bug and that’s alright. I know it feels heavy right now and it’s okay to not be okay. Me and Dean have been through it, but you’re so young and no one should have to carry the weight of what you've been through. It’s important to take a day off to take care of yourself alright?” Sam said with his eyes looking deep into yours.

“Okay, yeah.” You said softly, nodding. Sam got up and pulled you into a hug.

“Love you bud.” He said before he kissed you on the side of the head.

“Love you too, be safe please.” You said, already feeling stressed out at the fact that your brothers are throwing themselves at danger once again and you won’t be there to immediately know the outcome of it.

“Always.” Sam reassured, sending out a wink and walking out of your room. You had five minutes of peace before you heard another knock on the door.

“Yeah?” You asked.

Dean stuck his head into the room and sent you a smile.

“Hey kid, I got you a bagel and a chocolate chip muffin and I already have Legally Blonde up on the tv for you.” He said already knowing how to start your self care day off right.

“Thank you!” You smiled and started to get out of bed to start your day.

“Call me if you need anything. We’re heading out now, okay?” He asked.

“Yes, please be careful.” You said shooting him a concerned look.

“Uh I am always careful.” He said matter of factly.

“Mhm.” You chuckled, going in to hug him.

“Love you kid, we should be back by tonight.” He said and ruffled your hair.

“Okay, love you.” You said, pulling away and watching him walk out.

It was around 7pm when you heard some noise outside of your room. You quietly opened the door and saw Dean in the hallway. He didn’t notice you as he walked into his own room. You decided to go to the kitchen to grab one of the cookies you baked earlier to give him one to try. As you walked towards the kitchen the front door opened and in walked Dean.

“Hey Y/N/N!” He said when he saw you. He was making his way down the steps as you froze.

“I-I-I-“ You were confused for about 15 seconds before your heart dropped. This wasn’t Dean. Dean was just down the hall. But what if that wasn’t Dean and this is actually the real Dean. Your thoughts were wild and your heart was pounding.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, seeming concerned.

“No.” You whispered and began to back up away from him.

“Hey, hey, hey, what’s the matter?” He asked, now on high alert.

“Get away from me!” You shouted in fear.

“What the fuck?” He said to himself as he put his hands up in defense.

“Where’s Sam?” You asked forcibly, still back away from Dean.

“He’s picking up some food. What’s going on kid?” He asked.

“You were just in your room.” You stated aggressively.

“No I wasn’t.” He responded, confused.

“Exactly.” You sucked in a breath of terror before you bolted out of the room, ready to fight for your life.

“What the hell?” You heard him say as you sprinted into your room. You grabbed your gun and bolted back out towards Dean’s room where you saw him enter just moments before the other Dean walked through the front door. Just as you were about to reach his room, he walked out. You jumped in fear and put the gun behind your back.

“Oh hey kiddo I was just about to come check on you. Sammy ran out to grab us some food.” He finished just as the other Dean rounded the corner to the hallway to find out what was going on with you.

“What the fuck?” They both said at the same time. You brought your gun out from behind your back and shakily held it in front of you, frantically switching between the two Dean’s unsure of who was who.

“Hey Y/N, I need you to trust me and walk towards me right now.” Dean 2, the one that just walked up, said calmly, but urgently. You immediately turned the gun to Dean 1.

“Alright, hey, take it easy, okay?” Dean 1 said with his hands out in front of him, his eyes not leaving yours. “I need you to be smart about this kid. You know me. Shoot him!” He shouted.

You let out a frustrated cry and turned the gun onto Dean 2. You didn’t know who was who and you were freaking out.

“I’m Dean alright?! I’m Dean. You’ve gotta help me out here kid and walk towards me because that’s the shapeshifter, not me.” He said urgently. You were so overwhelmed and tears started to pour down your cheeks as you flipped the gun back onto Dean 1.

“SHOOT HIM Y/N!” Dean 1 yelled at you, but you didn’t falter your gun. “SHOOT HIM!” He screamed at you again. You jumped in freight, but continued to point the gun at him. Dean 1 was so persistent on you killing Dean 2 while Dean 2 seemed like his only goal was to protect you. Your thoughts were interrupted by Dean 1 shouting once more.

“SHOOT HIM, SHOOT HIM, SHOOT HIM, SHOOT HIM!” His demand boomed through the halls making you panic and freeze. He started charging towards you and thats all it took to for you to snap out of it and shoot him twice. He fell to the floor dead.

“Oh thank God.” You heard the real Dean sigh in relief from behind you, but you felt anything but relief. You were left in a trance staring at dead fake Dean, but he looked so real to you. All of your emotions were threatening to spill over. You were so worked up over saving the world while also worrying about your brothers safety. You were scared that you could lose one of them in an instant and now seeing dead fake Dean was too much for you to handle. He was identical to your brother and though he wasn’t really your brother it didn’t leave much up to the imagination if you ever really did lose him. You sunk to the floor staring at the shapeshifter with tears now trailing down your cheeks.

“Dean?” You whispered weakly staring at your brother’s lifeless body knowing that it wasn’t actually him, but not able to shake the emotions you felt. Suddenly your vision was cut off by someone standing in front of you.

“Hey, it’s me, it Dean. It’s okay.” Dean said kneeling down in front of you, but you couldn’t focus on anything as you stared blankly ahead stuck in your own mind. It felt as though nothing around you was real and you were unable to move or speak.

“Hey kiddo you with me?” He asked getting increasingly more worried as he lightly tapped your face with no reaction from you.

“Alright you’re in shock, that’s alright, that’s okay, just know I’m here sweetheart, alright? You’re safe, I’m okay. Everything’s okay, I promise.” He soothed trying to get you to a safe mental space. He started rubbing his hands up and down your arms to try and ground you which worked. You blinked hard before opening your eyes again. Your eyes met Dean’s who were already boring into yours and your flood gates opened. You started sobbing and felt Dean take you into his arms. You gripped onto his shirt tight and clung to him.

“De.” You whimpered into his chest.

“Hey, yeah, I got you. It’s me, I’m alright, I’m here.” He said softly understanding that with your recent emotions seeing him lifeless was too much for you to handle. He gripped you tighter as sobs wracked through your body.

“Shhhh, shh, shh, everything’s alright kid.” He said.

“I’m just so scared to lose you.” You whimpered, feeling your body start to shake.

“You’re not ever going to lose me.” He reassured you and rubbed your back to calm your trembles.

“I- just- the body looks identical to you.” You stuttered trying to find the words to get it out. You felt Dean nod.

“I know kid, I know. It’s alright.” He said softly, understanding exactly where your mental breakdown came from. You pulled away and wiped your tears.

“Okay we should um we should probably do something about this body then.” You mumbled glancing at the shapeshifter, still feeling uneasy.

“Don’t worry about it, I got it. Sam should be here any minute with dinner so go wait for him in the other room alright?” Dean asked, staring down at you.

“Um yeah alright.” You said and walked towards the kitchen. Just as you sat down, Sam walked through the door with bags in hand.

“Hey bug!” He smiled. “How was your day?” He asked before setting the food on the table and getting a good look at you. As soon as he did his face fell.

“What’s wrong?” He asked worriedly seeing your tear stained face. You immediately got up and hugged him, still slightly shaking from earlier.

“Hey, what’s going on?” You felt his chest rumble as he asked you.

“There was a shapeshifter.” You mumbled, gripping onto his shirt tighter.

“What?” Sam asked in confusion pulling you away from him to look you in the eyes.

“There was a shapeshifter who looked like Dean and I couldn’t tell who was who, but I killed the shapeshifter and it just scared me.” You spoke slowly.

“Okay.” Sam shook his head, but still was in absolute confusion on what happened and how it had happened.

“Where’s Dean now?” He asked, trying to understand more.

“Dealing with the body.” You said and went back into his arms, needing comfort once more.

“Okay, alright.” He said and held you close to him.

“Just freaked me out a little bit.” You whispered.

“l understand bug, it’s alright.” He reassured you, rubbing your back. After a couple minutes you pulled away from him and sent him a soft smile.

“You okay?” He asked, still concerned with your mental state.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m alright.” You responded and sent him one of your cheesy thumbs up. He chuckled and shook his head.

“Alright do you wanna get our dinner out of the bag and put it on the table while I go talk to Dean?” He asked, motioning to the diner bags he had placed on the table.

“Yeah sure.” You responded as he sent you a quick nod and left the room.

You got the table ready and put the food out on the table. Your eyes caught the cookies you totally forgot you baked and got them ready to put on the table also for your brothers to try. As you were walking towards the table with the plate your brothers both walked in.

“I baked cookies today!” You said enthusiastically.

“Your scrumptious secret recipe cookies?” Dean asked hopefully.

“Duh.” You chuckled and shook your head yes. He immediately snagged one off the plate. You looked back at him after you placed the rest on the table and noticed it was already gone.

“Damn you’re the real Dean all right.” You laughed. He sent you a wink and you all sat down at the table to eat. As you opened up your to go box you couldn’t help, but notice the exchanges your brothers were making.

“What?” You asked.

“How was your day?” Sam asked.

“It was actually pretty good!” You said before looking down at the table. “The shapeshifter stuff just threw me off a little bit, but other than that I had a really good day.” You finished.

“Alright well tomorrow we’re all having an off day together kiddo just me you and Sammy.” Dean grinned, knowing you needed to spend time with them.

“Good thing I have three face masks left still.” You smirked, looking between your brothers.

“Good thing Sammy loves to be pampered.” Dean smirked.

“Dean give me a break, you pamper yourself more than Y/N pampers herself.” Sam scoffed.

“That’s actually true.” You laughed.

“Oh be quiet you two.” Dean said in a high pitched girly voice making you all laugh.

[respectthepetty]

Season two of Chaser Game W was just as wacky as the first, but I'm going to go on record and state I believe season two was better because Fuyu really got to evolve and kept me entertain with all her hilarious facial expressions.

The finale began with the Red Devil back and back to her old habits, but instead of Fuyu immediately caving, she figured out this was her father's doing.

And when Itsuki was spiraling after Fuyu's mother visited, Fuyu was like, "You told my mother to eat poison, right?"

Because this is a color-coded family and her mother would not abide by the assigned color-coding. She also made their sweet daughter beg to not be sent away, so grandmama gotta GO!

Everything comes back to those gay penguins! I'm not even slightly upset that Fuyu's ex suggested she not tell people about her relationship with Itsuki. Not everybody can be out in all aspects of their lives, so it's reasonable to protect their child, they must rethink how not everyone can be trusted with the truth.

Our mama penguins decide that is solid advice and encourage their daughter to call Itsuki her aunt in public, so the bigots aren't mean to a five-year-old child.

But the bigots are doing the most to teach their children to hate others at a young age.

And even though my babygirl was thrown off by their decision, she also understood the reasoning behind the decision because it's clear they are in love (the color exchanges say so), and they love their child. Not telling others doesn't make that love any less valid.

But after all of that, these two show up in almost-matching outfits to tell the entire PTA that they have big old lesbian crushes on each other, so suck on that, ay yay yah!

As wild as that school scene was, I liked that it ended with the child repeating the question of "What is normal?" because two color-coded parents in love seems pretty normal to me!

Then Fuyu actually told the entire world they were in love as if the colors didn't already do that!

This is how peacefully everyone should sleep after they come out on international platforms and ruin bigoted bitches' day.

Especially this Red Devil's day since she threatened them so many times!

Even though the show went left in the last minutes by making the father be the one to say China needs to change,

And having the Red Devil take the credit for Fuyu's bravery,

I don't care because in fictional works, I want my happy endings however I get them, and this IS a happy ending.

Instead of being a poly series *sad face*, we got more of the story about two women in love!

We have Itsuki being the most adorable Heavenly Human wife to Fuyu.

And Fuyu still being the cringe corporate Black Brooder wife!

Then we have other color-coded girls in love who have witnessed the journey of our protagonists.

We have Itsuki finding other parent friends who aren't homophobic asshats.

We have grandma sending her lesbian granddaughters and cute great-grandchild gifts!

Because grandmas in QLs are really proving the Boomers didn't protest wars and fight for our rights to be wrongfully considered the bad guys now.

We have the ex-husband finally getting to live his best life too with someone who gets him.

And I got COLOR-CODED GIRLS IN LOVE.

And a babygirl.

[sergle]

I think my favorite thing about doing ginger red hair instead of cherry red hair is: lying to people about it

[novella-november]

Is this fanfic friendly? I feel like an outlier.

I guess this is my sign it's time to throw together a FAQ post to link to lol.

Yes, every event for this blog is fanfic friendly :D

Though as I mentioned on my Ominous October post, for events that include multiple short stories, I encourage everyone to flex their creativity and take one of their planned short story fanfics, and at least *attempt* to turn one of them into something entirely original; rebuilding a character and story from the ground up to stand on its own two legs is no easy feat, and that is what makes it so fun!

It really gets your creative gears turning, to make an "au of an existing material" to be something entirely original, and you can be pleasantly surprised about the things you come up with!

As a few people say, its not just a matter of "filing the serial numbers off" -- you have to add in just as much *or more* as what you take out when you are turning a fanfiction into something that is original and completely divorced from its original source material / inspiration, and that is a hard, but very rewarding challenge!

Obviously, this is not a requirement (there's no hard requirements for any of the challenges, other than no cheating, including no using AI),

but if you would like an extra challenge for the short story events and you're planning on doing entirely fan-fiction, I highly recommend trying it out at least once, and seeing where it leads you--

you may find yourself pleasantly surprised by what you find down that rabbit hole!

[james-spooky]

this is a test

[yo9urt]

applied for a job a while ago and wrote in my spreadsheet "i am not fucking getting this job" not because of the qualifications but because my application was honestly just not that good. today the lady called me and scheduled an interview. Ok

[fragmentedblade]

Boothill's presentation being entirely on the twitter post makes me think he will be irrelevant in the story in the long(ish) run, and that the game itself won't dwell on him almost at all

[wolpatinga]

[pikachu-deluxe]

got like 1200 ish lines of code for a thing in like 2 hours yippeee

it's a thing to make it easier to modify stuff for mario kart 64 it'll make my life 1000x easier i just have to enter a few numbers in and out comes a file i can apply to the game with some other program instead of having to copy and paste stuff for like half an hour to an hour every time i want to make changes

a game changer you could say *gets dragged away by the neck like a cat*

[autistic-shaiapouf]

Beginning to really wonder how much of my financial concern is manufactured and handed to me as opposed to something I'm genuinely concerned by

[catastrxblues]

good morning it is now 4 am and i have just finished watching atonement good night

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...