#he’s finally getting to live his life his way

[nymphoniah]

2 words.

logan. boobkink.

I need logan to be absolutely obsessed with my titts. doesn't even have to be sexual but I just want him to do everything to my titts that give him comfort.

would be amazing if you write about this thanks love<3

omg!!??!! like logan is basically like a lil’ cat. not only is it the claws, but he’s got the tufts of hair to prove it. and like any other cat, he loves to paw at you! (also written with origins logan in mind just bc he gives off super domestic vibes :3)

content/warnings: fluff, afab!reader, femme pronouns used

lazy mornings with logan consists of him spooning you, his bulky arms wrapping you in a tight embrace. his hands start to wander, making their way up your chest, resting them on your soft mounds, kneading the flesh with his fingers.

“my own lil’ stress balls,” he’d joke, letting out a hearty laugh as you squirm at his touch.

you try to curl into a ball, bringing your legs to your chest to stop his ticklish assault on your breasts, but it’s no use. one hand stays squishing your breast, while the other pushes your legs back down.

“nuh-uh, you’re all mine today,” he whispered, his tone low, voice still riddled with the morning drowsiness he faced. “we never get time for this,”

he isn’t wrong. when you’re finally back home from work, it’s 11pm. and by the time you settle in bed, logan’s already sleeping. and by the time you wake up, logan’s already out the door getting ready to cut some wood with a group of douchebags.

it’s moments like these where he absolutely turns soft. though logan seem like a grouchy, rugged old man, he’s actually a complete softie. for a man who’s lived for 200 years, he knows exactly how rough life can get—which is why he cherishes these moments with you.

“my sweet girl,” logan coos, continuing to knead at the soft skin of your breast. “let’s just stay like this a little longer, please?”

[mrsriddlenott]

~ JB’s Little Sister ~

JJ Maybank x Routledge!Reader

Warnings: smut, weed, creampie, breeding kink mentioned, a bit of spit kink but barely, hair pulling, kinda choking kink but barely. Barely proofread, plz point out mistakes.

{masterlist}

————

JJ knew it was wrong but he was absolutely obsessed with the youngest Routledge sibling. It really boiled over when you were both in high school, he absolutely loved having the excuse to be near you all day. He was a year older and knew John B would lose it if he found out it was more than jokes. But he was unashamed in his decade of flirting, so much so he genuinely thought he was gonna die when you left the island for your freshman year of college. And when you came back for summer it was like a dam broke in his mind, he couldn’t hold back.

“God I’ve missed you.” JJ groaned as he and John B ran to tug you into a hug, tripping over himself right in front of you before he could reach your arms, making you laugh and give your brother the first hug. He pops up immediately, tugging you back by your waist before you can follow your brother into the Chateau where the rest of your friends wait. “Get the fuck back here, I needa hug from my favorite girl.”

“I swear you missed me more than JB did.” You laugh jumping up, fully prepared for him to catch you and he does, unabashedly letting his palms rest on the exposed flesh at the base of your shorts as you wrap your arms around his neck.

“Y’know it Mama.” His voice was deeper and laced in want, placing you back down onto your feet after squeezing you tightly. JJ lets his hands rub up your waste as you slide down his toned body before he steps back from you, wetting his lips, finally getting a good look at you after so long of only facetime. You lock your hands around his neck, smiling up at him in a way that would surely get you yelled at by John B had he seen.

“What would I do without you?” You ask, your smile wide as you look up to him. Finally allowing yourself to show him everything you wanted to for so long.

“Crash and burn of course,” He tugs you around under his arm, resting his toned bicep on your shoulder as he directs you into the Chateau for the first time since you left last fall. John B pops his head out the door watching you both as you approach him.

“What the hell is taking you so long?” He snaps, making you roll your eyes as you shove past him, begrudgingly letting JJ’s arm fall from your shoulders. As you finally step into your home you’re bombarded with hugs and welcomes, making your way into the center of the group, sitting in your regular spot in rotation right across from JJ’s. Something JB ensured as soon as he caught onto to your infatuation with his best friend. But after practically living on your own for an entire school year you were tired of your older brother taking control over your life. You had a plan, and you knew it would work.

“So what are you doing your first weekend back?”Kie asks, passing the joint they had rolled for your return your way as you try and ignore JJ’s burning gaze on you. You give yourself time to work out the best response as you take your hit, puffing on the joint again to fill your lungs a little extra before passing it off. You catch the way JJ’s adam’s apple bob’s, his eyes watching you blow the smoke past your lips as though he was in a trance.

“Well, don’t get mad but do you remember my ex, the one I broke it off with junior year?” You ask, plucking at a lose thread on your shorts, looking around at everyone but JJ’s reaction.

“That douchbag kook who was too old for you and didn’t deserve you?” John B asks sarcastically, “Yeah, how could I forget.” He rolls his eyes, puffing off the joint as you laugh at his annoyance. You let yourself steal a glimpse at JJ buying yourself time as the joint makes it’s rounds, catching the way his jaw clenches and his eyes darken. You smile to yourself, looking to the floor and feigning ignorance of his reaction.

“Yes, Tyler, he found out I was gonna be back for the summer and he asked me to get dinner later, I said I would but that it doesn’t necessarily mean we’re getting back together,” You shrug your shoulders as though it was nothing, watching JJ take his hit, his hard eyes remaining trained onto you with fire blazing behind them.

“Necessarily?!” Pope blurts out with a fake laugh, “Isn’t Tyler the asshole college dude me and JJ had to put in line a few years ago?” You feel yourself starting to laugh at Pope’s scoff of annoyance, remembering how he was always just as protective as your brother when it came to you starting to date.

“It doesn’t mean anything okay, it’s just for fun.” You shrug, ignoring the smirk Sarah sends your way as JJ begins to fume in his spot. You roll your eyes playfully away from her, smiling as she clearly picks up on what you were doing.

“That’s what you say when something definitely means something.” JJ pipes up, trying to stop his teeth from gritting together as your eyes avoid him again.

“I don’t know this guy but if he’s fun, I think you should have your fun,” Cleo states with a smile before standing and tugging Pope off with her. You shake your head, laughing as you fake a disgusted look in their direction.

“I will not be having that kind of fun.” You state, finally locking eyes with JJ, tilting your head slightly, challenging him to break eye contact first. His blown out pupils contrast against his ocean blue eyes as he holds your gaze only breaking it when John B stands up beside you.

“Yeah, right. Just don’t bring him back here, I can’t promise I’ll remain civil this time.” Your brother laughs at your dramatic eye roll, despite knowing he was only half joking. Your eyes meet Sarah’s, your eyebrows arching for a split second before she gets your request. You hold back a sigh at watching your plan fall perfectly into place, Sarah hopping off the couch she was occupying to tug at her boyfriends wrist.

“And what were you and Sarah going to be doing? Hm lemme think…” JJ finally laughs at your words, watching the way you jokingly tap your chin as the pair retreat into the Chateau towards John B’s bedroom. Sarah giggling, winking back at you over her shoulder, fully supporting you in your endeavors unlike your brother.

“And I think that would be my cue,” Kie says between laughs, shaking her head in mock disappointment, “I hope you two know what you’re doing.” She states in a sing song voice before slipping out the door and out of sight. You watch JJ’s confused face, his eyebrows furrowed adorably watching her leave, his lips trying to form a question as he mutters confusedly before she’s gone.

“Wanna come hotbox the Twinkie with me Jay?” You stretch out towards him, kicking his thigh softly, snapping his eyes back to yours. He caught the twinkle in your eyes, the slight tilt to your head and part of him already knew.

And with one decision, he ended up getting everything he wanted.

“You don’t even gotta ask Mama.” JJ responds excitedly, immediately hopping up in front of you as he reaches his ring clad hand down to take yours, “M’lady?”

~~~~

“Come on, he’ll never know I swear.” JJ begged, continuing the non-stop flirting he’d started from the second he began rolling a blunt for you both. Ever since you mentioned you had a date his “jokes” started to feel more and more serious, making your giddy excitement skyrocket as you slowly push yourself closer to him in your seat.

“John B would literally kill you if he found out,” you laugh, taking a puff off the blunt before passing it off to him again, “He doesn’t care that I’m in college now and more responsible than him, he’s overprotective.”

“Then I would die happy Baby,” He states, shrugging his shoulders as he hits the blunt blowing the smoke directly in your face from across him, “You know me, imma’ daredevil.”

“See you don’t even actually want me Jay, you just like the chase,” Your eyes meet his through the haze of smoke slowly filling the Twinkie, “You think it would be hot to sneak around.” You fill your voice with teasing interest, knowing he would pick up on the change in your tone immediately.

“It would be really hot yeah but you’re also one of my best friends.” His breathless voice takes you by surprise as he leans forward to hand you the blunt, letting his fingers brush yours for too long, catching your eyes again and forcing you to maintain eye contact. He does love a chase, but the excitement of finally hearing your interest after so long of getting the cold shoulder sends him reeling more than the desperation for your attention that John B denied him ever did.

“Which should discourage you Jay.” He watches the way your eyebrow raises with your tone, wetting his lips as his brain reminds him of the many times he watched you flirt at the Boneyard, taking charge and wrapping some poor sucker around your finger for the night. His heart started to race, a smile growing on his lips when he takes note of your tell.

You were finally flirting back.

“Well it doesnt, and I don’t care about no pogue on pogue anymore either Sweetheart, I do genuinely want you.” JJ tugs on his bottom lip with his teeth, watching your face and he can tell he’s finally got you, “And if John B kills me and dumps my body in the marsh so be it.”

JJ watched your lips wrap around the blunt sucking in your hit it, blue eyes bouncing from the smoke pouring past your lips to your eyes still locked onto him. “Wanna shot gun it Jay?” You blurt out, smiling teasingly as you push yourself impossibly closer to him on the bench in the back of the Twinkie. Loving the way his eyes found yours immediately, swallowing thickly while he nods.

“Yes, yes I do.” His hands found your waste as though it was second nature, pulling you into his lap where you rest your weight with a sigh. Your eyes stay locked in his gaze, taking a long drag to properly fill your mouth with the warm smoke. You watch JJ’s face intently before tugging his mouth up to yours by his stubbled chin. You ghost your lips against his, letting them touch each other just slightly while you pass him your hit. You lean back in his lap to watch as his eyes flutter shut, feeling the way his fingers grip your hips as he inhales the smoke you gave him.

“Y’like that Baby?” You ask and a moan vibrates through his body and into yours at the sound of the nickname, a smile subconsciously covering his face as his eyes stay closed. You take the opportunity to put out the smoking blunt in the ashtray behind you, letting your now free hands roam across his chest and shoulders as you pull yourself back to him.

“I think I’m dreamin’ Sweetness,” He sighs, his hands dancing up and down your waste, gripping at your flesh everywhere he stops. You giggle above him, wiggling your hips against the growing bulge in his shorts and sending a shiver through his body.

“You’re not Jay,” You whisper, resting your hands on his shoulders has his eyes flicker open to watch you, “Do you wanna kiss me?” Your voice comes out soft despite the confidence you feel, slightly rocking your hips against him as he nods desperately.

His hand rubs its way up your back, gripping the back of your neck and smashing your lips into his. The kiss is heated as soon as you touch, years of pent up feelings urge you both further, your lips fighting each other as you moan into his mouth. You graze your tongue against his bottom lip asking for entrance, making him groan into you gripping your lower waste harder, tugging you impossibly closer and shoving his tongue past your gasping lips. You laugh into the kiss, sighing as you grind into him feeling him entirely through his and your own shorts. The taste of his spit coating your tongue sending a wave of excitement through you, the puddle in your panties growing as you swirl your tongue against his, coating your mouth in his saliva.

JJ pulls back suddenly, his blown out eyes watching your face intently as you whine for him to come back. Your brows furrowing, your fingers tugging at his shirt collar desperate to have his taste on your lips again. “Jayy, come on.” You beg, bucking against his hard bulge again desperately.

“You’re not just doin’ this because the weed though, right?” He asks, his voice desperate and strained. You laugh, tugging him closer by his shoulders, grinding into his lap harder and tangling your fingers in his hair to tug on it hard.

“You are absolutely clueless JJ, I have been obsessed with you for years, why do you think JB hates us being alone together.” You drag your lips against his neck as you speak feeling the way he twitches against you, itching to finally get you the way he needed, “You have no idea how many times I’ve thought of ridin’ you in this van.”

“I’ve thought about taking you in damn near every position, everywhere on this fucking island.” He responds, holding back a moan at the feeling of you pressing against him.

“Well, no one can stop you now because I say what you can and can’t do to me.” He growls as he smashes his lips back onto yours. Maneuvering your body so you laid under him across the bench of the van, one hand disappearing between your bodies, tugging at the button on your shorts to let his hand fall into them. He circles his finger slowly against your clothed clit, laughing as his eyes find yours again, your brows furrowing and your mouth falling open, “You’re so fucking wet.” He laughs out, his free hand drifting to wrap softly around your neck tugging you towards him again and capturing your lips in a passionate kiss.

He moans against your tongue as your hand falls to palm him through his shorts, making him pull back quickly, the clank of his belt coming undone so quickly sending a shiver down your spine. Your eyes follow his movements entranced by him, watching as he tugs his shorts and boxers down together, letting himself spring free. His tip bounces against his lower abdomen making him hiss lightly, his hand falling to stroke himself slowly, thumbing his leaking tip as his free hand springs into action. He tugs your shorts and panties down in quick, smooth motions sighing heavily when he spreads your thighs to get a look at you. His hand speeds up at the sight of your glistening folds, groaning into his kiss bruised lip while you desperately wiggle your hips below him. His thumb moves subconsciously, pulling one of your sticky lips to the side and watching as they clap back together when he releases it, growling at the sight of how wet he can make you.

His eyes meet yours, groaning as he feels your hand replacing his on his cock. His fingertips ghost against your thighs slowly working their way up your body, catching on the tank top you wear to slowly pull it up your chest.

“You’re so fucking beautiful Sweetheart, look at you, your nipples are all perky for me.” His tongue swipes against his lips before he dives into your chest, tugging your shirt off fully over your head and tossing it behind him before swirling his warm tongue against your hard nipple. Your fingers of your free hand get lost in his hair, tugging lightly as the other moves lower palming his tightening sack as he moves to suck your other nipple into his mouth. Groaning and moaning into your flesh, biting your nipple and making you whine underneath him.

“Please fuck me Jay, I wanna feel you inside me already.” JJ pushes himself up, his strong arms framing your face as he watches you, spit coating his lips and making them glisten. His brows furrow in pleasure as your hand picks up speed between your bodies, “Please Baby, I need you.” You emphasize your words with a squeeze of your fingers, slowly drifting your hand up ghosting your fingers against his tip and feeling him twitch in your palm before tugging your hand away. Quickly you drift your hand up his shirt, digging your nails into his chest and dragging them down his abdomen, marking him as he shudders above you. “Take your fucking shirt off and fuck me already JJ, or I swear you won-“

JJ pushes off of you immediately, pulling his shirt off over his head in a flash before falling back onto you. Holding his weight on his arm beside your head as his free hand falls to line himself up at your entrance. His fingers tangle in your hair at the side of your head, his lips capturing yours as his tip slowly slips into your drenched center, “You’re so fuckin’ needy, been waitin’ too long for this to not take it slow with you.” He gasps against your lips, breathing heavily as he slides into you slowly letting his hand drift up to wrap around your neck possessively, “I want you to feel every bit of me Baby.”

“It’s not like this is never gonna happen again Jay,” You moan, his cock stretching you out, sending your juices leaking past him and onto the blanket below you as he slowly penetrates you, “Unless you didn’t want t-“

“Shut the fuck up,” JJ growls, snapping his hips into you and cutting you off with a moan as he fills you completely, “I know you won’t be able to get enough of me after this, but don’t worry imma fuck you every chance you give me. I can feel you clenching around me already Gorgeous, so don’t play because I’m in charge now.”

He pulls out slowly, his eyes falling to watch his glistening skin as he slips out of you. His tip rests inside you while you pucker around him, desperately trying to suck him back into you. His bright blue excited eyes bounce to yours, your brows furrowed adorably, your teeth digging into your lip. He thrusts into you, filling you back up and forcing your mouth open with a moan. His hips start to rock against you, setting a slow but rough pace as he dips his head to catch your lips in a slow, passionate kiss matching the desperate thrusts of his hips against yours.

JJ’s thrusts speed up, dragging against your twitching walls and hitting your cervix each time. He twitches inside you as your tongue swirls around his, moaning in your mouth and letting his hand fall down your neck to your chest, stopping for only a second to squeeze at your breast before continuing his decent. You gasp into his mouth as his fingers find your clit again, circling over it and dropping his lips to kiss down your neck.

JJ speeds up his finger’s movement as his pace slows, trying to control himself. The feeling of your walls clenching around him, your slick sticking to him every time his balls slap against you pushing him dangerously close to the edge. Your hips move desperately trying to speed up your own release as JJ holds himself back. His teeth dig into the skin at the base of your neck groaning as your hands dance across his muscular back. Dipping low enough to grab at his ass before drifting their way back up, dragging your nails against his shoulders and making him shudder.

"Please Jay, faster," You gasp, clutching JJ's shoulders as he pounds into you slowly, letting your nails dig into his skin with each thrust. “Faster Jay I’m gonna cum,” You practically scream as his fingers rub into you impossibly faster, his hips digging into you deeper as he speeds up his thrusts again.

"You gotta be quiet Gorgeous, this thing ain't soundproof." He laughs, pushing himself above you, one hand resting beside your head, taking a second to glance out the fogged windows of the Twinkie before looking back to your closed eyes and furrowed brows. His eyes glance down your body, watching your chest rise and fall rapidly as you gush around him, slowing his fingers as you come undone below him. The band in your abdomen finally snaps, forcing you to arch into him, your nails digging down his back and leaving bright red marks behind. JJ pulls his hand from between you, sucking it into his mouth and moaning before letting it fall to your cheek, pushing your hair back as he attempts to maintain a steady pace, fucking you into oblivion as he watches your face contort in pleasure.

“Look at me.” His voice is laced in dominance, breathing heavily above you as he watches your eyes flicker open, staring up at him desperately. With a groan his mouth finds yours again, your moans mixing together while he pulls all the way out, slamming back into you and making you gasp into his mouth. Allowing his tongue to explore yours as his hips speed up even faster to a brutal pace, shaking the van with each thrust. You should be worried someone will see, but you’re too fucked out to care right now.

Your fingers tangle in his hair as his hand falls to steady himself on your hip looking for anything to grab onto, latching to reality. You tug at his hair aggressively as he bites your lip, locking your legs around his waste, whining out a moan into him as his cock hits deeper inside you making you pull his hair even harder subconsciously. Your whole body begins to twitch with overstimulation as JJ moans desperately above you, his hips stuttering and his breath shudders, “Do that again, now.”

You do as your told, moaning as his hips snap against you at an erratic, random pace when you do. “You gonna cum Jay?” You ask, your voice breathless and squeaky post orgasm.

“Mhmm, tryna convince myself I wanna pull out right now though Sweetheart.” His eyes squeeze shut, clenching his fingers onto your hip. His fingernails digging into your skin trying to control himself.

“No don’t, please don’t Jay,” you whine, locking your legs around him tighter, tugging him fully against you as he groans and moans into your neck. He whines loudly, pushing into you, his tip kissing against your cervix as you feel his hot cum paint your walls. He stills completely, dropping his weight onto you, his cock twitching inside of you as he empties himself into you.

“If I get you pregnant,” JJ huffs, pushing himself up on shaky arms to watch your face, “Your brother is definitely gonna kill me.”

“No he would never kill JJ Jr.” You laugh breathlessly, JJ’s eyes following the way your chest moves before dropping to look at where he sits inside of you. The ring of the creamy mixture of your releases at his base driving him absolutely insane, sending his head spinning with excitement.

“Fuck, I guess I have a breedin’ kink now,” He groans, dropping his head into the crook of your neck, leaving wet kisses against the warm flesh there, “Thanks for that Princess.”

JJ pushes off of you to watch as he pulls out, his intense eyes staring as your mixed release flows out of you and onto the seat below. You wiggle your hips teasingly with a tired smile before he snaps out of it. Shaking his head with a laugh as he bends over to tug his bandana free from his shorts, swiping it against your overstimulated clit as he cleans you of the sticky residue coating you.

You both redress in a comforting silence, both giggling together when you flip the blanket covering the bench of the Twinkie to the clean side. Your eyes meet his for a second too long, your shared laughter stopping slowing as he stares at you with soft eyes, his smile only growing as you lean into him. Your lips melt together in a soft, welcoming kiss before parting with a sigh. JJ’s hand falls to the ashtray sitting in the front of the van, relighting the half smoked blunt before passing it off to you. You sigh contently, smiling up at him happy that everything still feels so normal.

Once the Twinkie is filled with the scent of weed and not the evidence of your previous actives you slide the door open. The smoke falling out around you as you squint at the light change. JJ sits on the floor of the Twinkie with his legs hanging out the side door, looking at you as you stretch your arms and legs. You catch sight of John B as he emerges from the door of the Chateau, quickly walking his way towards you. You chuckle, thinking of how lucky you are he chose to come looking just after you and JJ both found your way out of the steaming van. You can feel John B’s suspicion seeping off of him like a palpable entity as he approaches, making you laugh and turn to JJ behind you. His eyes popping up off your ass and to your eyes quickly before noticing his best friend approaching over the yard behind you.

“What are you two doing?” Your brother snaps, eyeing you as you roll your eyes back to him.

“Jus’ smoking JB, I got bored waiting for you so Jay took care of me.” JJ holds back a laugh at your words, poking his tongue into his cheek while his eyes fall to the ground at his feet.

“I thought I said years ago I didn’t want you two smoking alone together.” John B states, suspicion laced in his voice and eyes. A look of disgust forming on his face when he eyes the Twinkie, seemingly looking for “clues” he will never find.

“And I distinctly remember telling you I can hang out with whoever I want. I’m an adult now, just like you, so untwist your panties.” His brows furrow in suspension once again, looking back to you desperately trying to decipher what the look in your eyes means. His gaze bouncing between you and his best friend, unsure if he should trust his gut or let it go.

“Is somthing going on with you two?” John B asks, his voice dropping to a whisper as if this was all a giant public scandal.

“Uh yeah, we’re friends.” You state with a dramatic roll of your eyes before slipping past your brother. You turn to catch JJ’s eyes over your shoulder, sending him a wink and watching him try to hide his smirk.

“Don’t you have a date to get ready for?” JB yells after your retreating form, not noticing the way JJ’s eyes lingered on you as well, eagerly awaiting your answer.

“Nope, I’m canceling, decided you were right, Tyler is a douchebag.” You don’t miss the proud smile JJ wears as you flit into the Chateau, ignoring the look your brother gives his best friend when he notices as well.

————

[space-blue]

I wish it would be any other example... If only because I live in a hostel community, and we had a guy literally called "creepy Carlos" aka "the chicken fucker".

The issue is that he was a major creep who would try to flirt his way into the pants of any breathing woman around him.

He made basically everyone uncomfortable.

Then one day his dorm got too bad, and the head cleaner had them do a deep clean, and Creepy Carlos wasn't home. So someone else found the raw chicken and stick of butter that he was keeping in his bed.

He got kicked out. It was kind of an excuse at this stage.

My issue is that even in this situation, the only harm done was potential contamination for others who didn't consent to live with raw poultry in their bedroom, and women at large being uncomfortable.

No REAL harm was done. But you can't walk out of such an incident, having lived with creepy Carlos, and not be predisposed to distrust a raw chicken fucker.

I've also rubbed elbows with some unhigenic guys who didn't wear protection, and if I learned the one flirting with me was fucking dead chickens, I'd be very concerned with his dick. It is his own, yeah, but what if he's trying to get it inside me? I'd want to know it's spanky clean, that he uses protection before going in that chicken carcass. And even then, if I'm coming after the chicken, I feel like I have a right to be emotionally creeped out and back out.

Is there a moral wrong in not disclosing you fuck dead chickens occasionally?

When does "it's his dick, his freedom" loses meaning because he's trying to get that same dick into someone?

Finally, if he goes in that chicken unprotected, it's a risk of disease, and if he knows that, then he's potentially creating extra work for an already heavily burdened medical system. If he isn't honest about his practices, it could take a while for a GP to figure out it's salmonella on his penis lol anyway, if he's a difficult enough case, he'd be literally slowing access to care for other people.

So while I may not apply my morals to someone's sex life, fucking a chicken CAN have social implications and could lead to harm, unless we're making actual straw men who are perfectly moral and extremely careful in the practice.

And if your persona outside of chicken fucking is that of an enormous creep with no strong understanding of consent, then it's not shocking when a bunch of people develop a strong feeling around raw poultry as side pieces.

Just to be clear, I don't think you're wrong on any point. I just feel like it's a bad example. Especially considering someone's sex life can very easily become "your" sex life. This example is just way too convoluted.

Oh my god. I need to share another story of my new friend making today. So my friends husband says, very casually, as we’re about to leave for the ren faire, “Yeah, it’s like my story about fucking a chicken.”

And of the four people present I was the only one who was shocked. The others all nodded as if to say, yes yes, we know, the chicken fucking.

So he explained, when a progressive person is analyzing a behavior they will typically use the metric, Harm/No Harm. They may not like things in the No Harm category but they wouldn’t object.

Conversely, a more conservative mindset used something like eight metrics. Authority/No Authority Moral/Not Moral, things like that.

So, he posited if you want to sound out someone’s mindset (and you’re willing to live with the repercussions) you can ask: if a man buys a dead chicken from the store, cleans it thoroughly, then fucks it, and then eats it himself…?

I listened in dawning horror, both rapt and disgusted. But into the growing pause I whispered, “No harm…” because it really has no effect on me or anyone else if a man fucks a dead chicken. I don’t like it, I think he’s a weird dude, but like. That’s his dick. But a more conservative person will hear that and object on moral grounds despite not being harmed.

It’s been haunting me all day, so please enjoy.

[alchemistc]

Part One

They don't tell anyone. Not about the marriage certificate, at least. Buck comes back from his conference with a new-old boyfriend and money exchanges hands despite protest from the losers that Bobby had inside knowledge.

(He did not.)

They put the rings away. They talk a bunch of shit out that they'd only skimmed the surface of on the patio of that dingy bar.

Buck buys him that beer.

Finally.

Things are - things aren't easy. Buck skips ahead in his own mind and desperately backpedals before Tommy notices (he hopes). Tommy continues to be tight lipped about things, goes with the flow more often than he should and absolutely hates being called out about it.

Eddie is slow to readjust to having Tommy back in their lives.

With Chris back, he swears up and down he believes Buck that they're both serious about this, but he invites Tommy over less, doesn't involve him in Chris's life as often. Buck tries desperately not to let Eddie's hesitancy inform any of the feelings bubbling in his chest, any of the half-formed futures in his head.

Bobby calls Tommy and they go out for coffee and Tommy spends a week pretending to be so fucking fine about whatever they talked about that Buck starts baking again.

Tommy's abs get a little less defined.

Buck takes him to a gay bar, because they never did that before, never explored anything that wasn't just the two of them, never talked about the community or the history or the impact of being queer. The first time someone approaches their spot at the corner of the bar, Tommy seems to be trying incredibly hard not to read into any of the reactions Buck is having, and failing miserably.

But the thing is. The thing is Buck did this on his own. Petty, unhappy, Tommy's words swirling in his head, he's tried a few dozen times to find another person remotely as appealing as the one at his side, and they'd all fallen short.

When the guy asks Buck if he wants to dance Buck blurts out words before he can think about it that he's absolutely certain are gonna send Tommy spiraling. "Appreciate the offer, but I'm here with my husband. We're celebrating."

The guy blinks. He's young. Younger than Buck, slim and attractive, dark brown eyes and light brown skin that glows golden even in the crappy bar lighting. His gaze darts almost eagerly between them, like he's seeing something he hadn't expected. Something hopeful blooms in his gaze, and Buck - oh.

Buck gets it.

That's a lot of weight to carry just for existing in the world and trying to snatch some happiness from it.

Buck smooths a hand over Tommy's knee and smiles at him, something soft and settled that has been harder to find this time around but still curls up against his spine like it belongs there.

The kid buys them a round and leaves.

"What are we celebrating?" Tommy asks, and Buck pretends not to notice the way his thumb is rubbing over the bare patch of skin where Buck had slid a ring, a few months ago. He's not freaking.

"Whatever we want," Buck says with a shrug, and doesn't mention that neither one of them have brought up the marriage certificate tucked away in Tommy's safe since they got back from Vegas.

---

"The Abby thing is still weird," Buck says, breath heaving as Tommy rearranges Buck's legs and tucks himself into Buck's side. They'd spent an evening talking candidly about their exes because Buck can't understand how they went six months without realizing.

Tommy's hands shift through the hair Buck stopped shaving the first time Tommy admitted he preferred it to the baby smooth skin Buck had tried desperately to maintain for the first four months. It's just now feeling normal, after so many years of keeping it smooth.

"I think she'd freak more than you did."

"I managed to implode a six month relationship with my freak, Tommy."

Tommy chuffs a laugh. Slides his calf up and down Buck's lower leg, and despite the fact that Buck has a few more notches in his belt that'd had that same scritch of hair against his, Buck relishes the feel just because it's Tommy.

"You had help." He pauses, though, tips his chin and tucks it against the give of Buck's shoulder. "I'm not implying her reaction was particularly homophobic, but - I think that was the worst part, for her. The fact that I hadn't just lied about how I felt. It was - she assumed I couldn't feel it."

Buck can't help the brow raise. "Tommy, you're a Kinsey six."

"I still loved her."

He's been working his way through romantic vs sexual vs platonic and learning a whole hell of a lot in the process. He gets Tommy's point. He's thrilled that Tommy is still in a sharing mood. It's just -

Tommy shifts, noses into Buck's underarm. Breathes deep, and Buck has to fight the urge to shove him away.

"If I'm totally off base here tell me, but I think you loved her like I love Eddie."

Tommy narrows his eyes. Contemplates. "Tell me again how jealous of his hair you were when you met," he decides on, and shrieks when Buck digs a finger into his ribs in retaliation.

---

They fight, and it's thrilling.

They never did that before. Minced their words and apologized and let it all drop away but never actually let it go, and when Tommy gets on a roll he's bitchy as hell. It drives Buck insane. He wants to wring his fucking neck. He wants to take him to the mat and actually learn enough about Muay Thai to stand a chance lasting two minutes. He wants to throw him against a wall and jack him off until he sees stars.

"He wouldn't do the same for me, Evan, so why should I bother?!"

Tommy's dad is dying. According to Tommy, it's days or weeks, not months or years, and Tommy had said it so emotionless that Buck had jokingly tried to check him for panels and plugs and wiring. Tommy hadn't appreciated the robot joke.

"Screw your dad, Tommy! Do it for yourself."

"I'm not like you, Evan! That bridge burned a decade ago. I don't need - ." He pinches the bridge of his nose. Grimaces and sucks in a breath. Usually that means he's yanking back words he knows he'll regret. Rearranging them in his mind until they're less likely to sting. "I don't want a death bed reconciliation any more than I want to be proven right about him."

Buck takes two weeks off to help Tommy plan the funeral.

Tommy tosses the contents of the urn into the ocean two weeks later, and when Buck asks about it, Tommy gives him a shifty look, like he thinks the answer might send Buck running. "He hated the ocean."

It's the last time they talk about his dad, for a while.

[choccorin]

thinking about living in the mountains with kento.

you’d wake up in peaceful mornings—no irritating sounds of beeping cars and road rage, just the faint singing of a few birds outside your shared bedroom window, the whirring of the electrical fan, and the soft clattering in the kitchen. the two of you love surprising each other with breakfast, though it’s mostly him because he wakes up earlier than you. each breakfast that he serves always comes with a few slices of bread, whether it be sourdough or even banana bread, whatever matches the dish he made that morning.

you’d spend the afternoon lying on the couch with him. your legs rested up on his lap while the both of you read two different books, occasionally chatting with the other on how the story’s going on in their book. did the main character finally confess their undying love to the love interest? or did the lost cat finally find its way back home? sometimes these catch-ups would go even longer until the two of you forget about the books you're reading and you make your way into the comfort of his warm embrace and take an afternoon nap.

the two of you would spend the evening making dinner, mostly him, though, again. he doesn't want your clumsiness to ruin the food or hurt yourself. you can just sit on the counter and watch him be the perfect house husband he was made for.

after eating dinner and washing the dishes, you two would go outside on the porch and sit on the swing that he personally made based on your request; you said that it would look great and would add character to the house. it’s also great when you want to spend time outside, may it be admiring the bustling trees or the midnight sky. and he couldn't agree more.

the view you get each night is certainly mesmerizing, better than the eye-sore-causing lights back in the city.

thirty minutes would go by before you pull him up and make him dance with you on the grass, barefoot. it’s not advised to dance without shoes outside, but who is he to deny the love of his life?

he pulls you close in between his arms, and as the both of you slow dance, he hums the two of you’s favorite song. you wrap your arms around his neck and place your head on his chest, feeling every vibration coming from it as he hums.

the both of you could dance barefoot on the grass for hours and never get sick of it, as long as you two are together. 

kento looks up at the star-filled sky and back at you, admiring every detail on your face—even in the dark. he pulls you even closer, wanting your body to sink into him, and plants a kiss on the crown of your head. a five-second long kiss that's filled with the affection he feels for you. you look up at him and give him the brightest smile, a smile that rivals the sun and stars.

and at that moment, kento thinks knows that he finally achieved his dream life. a peaceful life away from the crowded streets, and a house that’s filled with love, warmth, and solace, and he found it all from you.

[niby-skaje]

Emmrich shouldn't be allowed to become a Lich if romanced.

Okay. Hear me out.

Regardless of our personal views as a player/Rook on a subject of lichdom, I feel, given what we've learned, that lich lords of Necropolis should not allow Emmrich to become a lich if he has a beloved.

Lichdom is important. It is rare - so rare that Emmrich himself mentions that he was the lords' first living petitioner in a long time. There aren't many liches there I suppose. We only get to see a maximum of three at a time. It is not something to be trifled with, as the process is some high, advanced magic with the soul sifting required and the journey one has to partake - journey of self-discovery and learning to even be considered worthy. And then it still can go wrong. Our soul may still fail the final test (I assume it must be a possibility).

And then, the burden - the burden of knowledge, of power and responsibility that they have. We know that if we choose to bring Manfred back, then lichdom is lost for Emmrich forever for it shows that he cannot accept that others, those dear to him, will inevitably die, and that would mean that he might be susceptible to the abuse of power, as the lich we speak to states. Such power in the wrong hands could easily lead to tyranny.

But when Emmrich is romanced, he becomes even less able to accept mortality - this time not only his own, but Rook's as well. And while lichdom may take away the fear of death he's felt all his life (if in a healthy way, that's another matter entirely), it replaces it with something new - the fear of losing his love. And not just fear - the knowledge, the certainty, that Rook WILL die. If not now, then someday, in twenty, maybe forty years. But it will. It is as certain as life and death itself.

And Emmrich has waited so long for the love of his life! Even if we omit all the banter and all the little things in the game, he himself tells us that we are the best thing that has ever happened to him. Most magnificent, in his own words. And from the little bits here and there we get to know that he longed for that kind of love all his life.He has turned to other things, to the pursuit of knowledge and immortality, because he has given up hope - only for love to find him so late, right on the doorstep of his lichdom. He accepts it, he allows himself to be swayed by that love, he immerses himself in it completely, like a besotted fool (again, in his own words).

With all that, we know that once the time comes, he cannot and will not let Rook go. He may have slight doubts and we may talk to him about it, but we know that he cannot really choose and in the end he refuses to do so, assuring us that his love will be unchanged even as a lich. But that is not true, for now his love is different, as he now knows that we will be parted and he will remain. The dread he's felt all his life now changes its target, and the love and the fear become so intertwined, so painful, in a way he didn't even expect.

Very, very dangerous for someone with such immense power.

And then, after being trapped in the Fade he tells us that he will allow nothing to part us again. "Not in this, nor any other world". He will find a way, no matter the cost. Even as a lich, though some of his senses may be altered or dulled, he still feels, the emotions still flow within him as they did when he was mortal, perhaps even more so. He loves Rook more than anything in the world, he dreads the time when they will be separated, he dreads how he would go on without them, how he would mourn them for eternity... though now he has all the power and knowledge and time of the lich. He may be able to find a way - even if it is an abuse of the responsibility of his new position. He is blinded by love, even in a state that should transcend all things mortal.

Lich lords are not supposed to care about themselves, for they are meant to serve the Necropolis, to thwart any dangers outside of mortals' grasps, they are to guide and protect. A higher purpose, not of the flesh and the heart, but of wisdom and reason.

With all that in mind, with all the potential for abuse of power he is given, I cannot fathom how the lich lords could entrust such power to romanced Emmrich - or anyone else, for that matter, who is unwilling to sever their ties with the mortal world once and for all. For me, there should be no doubt that to ascend as a lich, one must shed all mortal ties, whatever they may be - and that includes love.

Emmrich's obligatory tax.

[holysmokesblog]

The Gray Reunion

Vi x reader

Words: 1.5k

Warnings: Violence, mentions of illness, blood, slightly spicy kisses ;)

Summary: In the midst of the chaos, you struggle to help the people of the Lanes. The truth behind the disaster sparks a confrontation that will test your bonds

Note:English is not my first language, sorry

In the past few hours, your modest apartment had turned into chaos. At least a dozen people had knocked on your door seeking help, intoxicated by something you hadn’t seen in years.

They could barely fit into the small living room, which also served as your kitchen and bedroom, waiting for you to help them, coughing out toxic fumes. Everyone expected you, just as your father had done in the past, to help or offer a solution, but you were completely lost, fumbling with medical supplies that had been stored away for years.

"The gray," murmured an older woman who was holding her husband as he struggled to breathe.

"That’s impossible," you replied. "We haven’t had problems with that in years, the ventilation system..."

"Then there must be a leak," she interrupted, raising her voice before a violent cough cut her off. You watched as her hand was splattered with blood. She inhaled deeply before continuing, "I’ve been through this before, but we don’t have the years on us anymore. Your father treated it countless times. Doesn’t he have notes somewhere?"

You sighed in defeat. "I’ve lost most of Dad’s things over the years. All I have left is what you see." You placed the stethoscope on a child’s back to listen to his breathing. "There’s nothing I can do. We just have to wait for the lungs to clean themselves... and stay far from the leak."

A collective groan arose from the people packed into your small space. "And how are we supposed to do that? We live there! Where can we go?" Various complaints began to rise.

"I wish I had an answer for you, but I don’t. We just have to wait until they repair the leak."

"They’re not going to fix it! It’s those damn enforcers! They’re killing us to get to Jinx!" Another wave of murmurs rippled through the room.

You tried to remain calm. Could that be true? Were the people above really capable of poisoning everyone just to catch Jinx? Those above had taken so much from you already that it seemed entirely plausible. But then an image came to mind—Violet. She was in Piltover now, and she would never let this happen, not to the place that had been her home for so many years and still was yours. Right?

You continued your work, trying to calm the rebellion brewing in your living room, tending to the most severe cases of nosebleeds and eye hemorrhages. But there wasn’t much more you could do. Around three in the morning, the last person finally left.

Exhausted, you collapsed onto your bed, utterly defeated. Chances were, all the patients you’d seen today would return tomorrow with new symptoms. It was impossible to recover from the gray while constantly exposed to it. You knew that if it was a crack, it would take years to fix. And if it was intentional, if they were hunting Jinx... that would also take time. There was no way they’d catch her.

A knock on the door kept you from falling completely asleep. You cursed under your breath—new patients. Your father’s voice echoed in your mind, reminding you how he wouldn’t rest until he’d helped the last person who needed him. You repeated the phrase to yourself before getting up to answer the door, only to be met with a great surprise.

Vi stood there, but the most shocking thing was her outfit. She was dressed as a full-fledged officer, an enforcer. You couldn’t suppress a gasp of utter disbelief. You had spent years of your life together; you knew her story as well as your own, and never would you have imagined the possibility of her wearing something like that—not even as a joke.

"I’m truly surprised," you murmured. She scoffed in irritation. You stepped aside to let her in, and she dropped her new, heavy gloves onto your floor. You bit your lip to keep from scolding her.

The past few days had been madness: Vi’s return, the search for Jinx, and your responsibilities trying to honor your father’s legacy had left you with barely a moment to breathe.

"Lots of patients?" she asked, trying to start a conversation.

"Too many," you replied, collapsing onto the bed again. She still stood awkwardly in the middle of the room. "You can lie down if you want... Unless you’re scared of dirtying that pretty uniform." She let out a short laugh before lying down next to you.

"I’ve barely seen you since you came back... I don’t think I ever got to tell you how happy I am that you’re here... Despite everything."

"Yeah, I suppose the first hug you gave me said it all."

"I mean it, Vi," you said, turning to face her. "Everything got so hard, but now you’re here, and I feel like things will get better."

She smiled faintly. "Yeah, we just have to fix a few things, and everything will improve." She propped herself up to sit beside you. "You look really pretty," she added. "Those dark circles suit you."

You couldn’t help but laugh. For just a moment, all the bad things disappeared. It was just the two of you in your small apartment—no Jinx, no gray, no problems in the Lanes. Just you two. Without thinking, you leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to her lips. She froze for a moment.

"I thought you missed me," she teased.

"I did."

"That’s not a reunion kiss. This is." Without warning, she leaned over and kissed you deeply. You welcomed her eagerly—it was like a breath of fresh air, something rare where you’d grown up. The kisses grew more intense, and your hands wandered over her torso and back. Vi positioned herself on top of you, using her hand for support on your pillow. But she quickly pulled it back.

"What’s this?" she asked.

You looked to the side, confused, and saw a large bloodstain. You hadn’t even noticed it. You sighed. "I’m really sorry." You sat up slightly, but Vi didn’t move off you. You grabbed the pillow and threw it to the other side of the room. "It’s been such a complicated day with the ventilation cracks."

"Yeah, don’t worry. I’m not at my best, either."

"Doesn’t seem like it." You kissed her intensely again, and she adjusted immediately.

"When all this is over, we should go on a real date. Like dinner and all that cheesy stuff."

You laughed against her lips at her failed attempt at romance. "I just hope it’s soon."

"It will be," she declared confidently. "Once they catch Jinx, everything will get better, and life in the Lanes will change—just like Vander always wanted."

Vi’s hands slipped under your shirt as you shared another passionate kiss, but her words lingered in your mind.

"Wait, wait, no," you said, pushing her slightly so she moved off you.

"Oh, do you want to take control, doll?" she teased.

"Did you have anything to do with this?" She looked confused, so you pushed her again to sit beside you. "The gas? Was it you?"

Vi stayed silent, hesitant to answer.

"Is this some kind of joke? You’re poisoning us just to catch your sister?" you shouted, furious.

"Hey, hey, it’s not like that... I mean, yes, but not how you think."

"You bitch," you spat, jumping out of bed. "Do you even understand the damage you’ve caused?"

"Listen to me. We used the gray to clear the streets, to keep people safe," she tried to explain.

"Used? Who’s ‘we’? You and your new enforcer friends? Well, you didn’t protect anyone!" You exploded. "Do you have any idea how many people you hurt? At least fifty came here today!"

"She’s a murderer! She killed half the council, she—"

"She’s not a traitor," you cut her off sharply.

The room fell silent as you watched Vi clench her fists in anger. You’d struck a nerve.

"Did you really do this for her? Or did your new enforcer friend convince you?" you spat, unable to hide your disgust.

"Don’t call her that!" Vi’s hands grabbed the collar of your shirt, pushing you against the wall.

You stayed inches apart for what felt like ten seconds before she let go, though she didn’t step back. Her heavy breathing mixed with yours, and you could smell the perfume from her uniform—a scent impossible to find down here.

"Get out of my house," you whispered.

"You have to understand—"

"Get out!"

Vi sighed loudly, grabbed her heavy gloves from the floor, and walked to the door. You opened it for her, stepping aside. She crossed the threshold without meeting your gaze but stopped in the doorway.

"I hope your new friend is worth it." She didn’t turn around, just kept walking down the dark street, away from your home.

You couldn’t stop the tears from falling.

What had you expected? Nothing had stayed the same over the years.

You locked the door before collapsing into bed. Tomorrow would be another hard day in the Lanes.

[rejectedbytheempty]

from the dirt we rise

pairing: farmer!john price x reader, no use of y/n

word count: 2.2k

cw: your boyfriend is an asshole

synopsis: when your car breaks down in the middle of the english countryside, a tall, dark stranger comes to your rescue

“christ, going to visit my parents was your idea in the first place, don’t put this on me” your boyfriend lamented, sighing and folding his arms across his chest like a child.

your hands gripped the steering wheel with an audible squeak from the leather along with you gritting your teeth to avoid a number of profanities from slipping out. your boyfriend, nathan, had complained for months that you were never interested in his life, or that you hadn’t seemed as invested in the relationship as he was. never mind the fact that you would plan every date, or that he forgot your birthday and went out with friends instead, leaving you alone at home with a pint of ice cream.

being the good girlfriend you were, you suggested a road trip to go visit his parents, something you supposed you both wanted. you were dead wrong, apparently. the moment you brought it up, he seemed more ambivalent than happy about it and come the day of the trip, he dragged his feet all the way.

so now here you were, driving your car along the english countryside, because his was too nice to drive on all these dirt roads.

“nathan, i was trying to do something nice, for the both of us, and all i asked was that you some snacks for the way.”

he rolled his eyes, huffing with contempt, “yeah. and i did, for me. i figured you were getting your own stuff.”

you looked up to the roof of the car, muttering a silent prayer to whatever gods could hear. “fine, it’s fine. i don’t even care anymore, i.. i guess i should have clarified, i’m sorry.”

he just muttered some incoherent complaints and looked out the window. you sighed slightly and took the silence to allow yourself to admire the countryside rolling by in peace. the hills covered in lush, green grass, cows dotting the landscape. you could almost imagine living here, waking up to the sound of birds chirping for once instead of someone shouting bloody murder outside your flat’s window.

you smiled softly at the idea of walking outside onto the dewy lawn with your bare feet and not having to worry about some junkie leaving behind a used syringe. the daydream was interrupted by your boyfriend shouting your name. the front of the car had started smoking, plumes of grey billowing out from under the hood.

“shit!” you cried out, braking suddenly and jolting the two of you slightly in your seats.

“the hell is wrong with your car?” nathan asked, looking over at you with a glare.

“i- i don’t know. it was perfectly fine yesterday and i took it to the shops a couple of months ago for a checkup. do you mind checking under the hood?” you looked over at him.

he looked slightly taken aback at that, “me? i don’t know about cars, besides, it’s not my car that’s gone and killed itself. why don’t you go check?”

you supposed you couldn’t argue with his logic, it was your car after all, but you still scowled slightly as you put the car in park and popped the hood. you opened the door and stepped out, looking at nathan in the passenger seat, who took about .5 seconds of worrying before looking at his phone again.

you let out a frustrated grunt and stomped over to the front of the car, pulling up the hood. the smoke immediately rose up to meet your face and you waved it away, coughing and grimacing. after a moment of wafting away the smoke, you were finally able to look over your engine and.. all of that other stuff.

yeah, you knew nothing about cars.

you thought that maybe talking a look under the hood would automatically make you a mechanic, but apparently that’s not true. pulling out your phone, you tried to look up on google something along the lines of “my car is smoking. what do i do?” but you had not a singular bar.

groaning slightly, you shut your phone off and began to shut the hood and give up when you heard the crunch of gravel behind you. turning to look, you saw a beat-up old truck heading your way, stopping at the edge of the grass where you had pulled off the road.

you looked between the truck and your car where your boyfriend sat in the front seat, not even looking up from his phone, probably too busy playing clash of clans or some dumb shit like that.

what if whoever was in the truck was a serial killer or something and your boyfriend was too busy playing subway surfers to even notice you getting kidnapped?

you swallowed nervously as the door of the truck swung open with a loud squeak. out stepped a man that made you swallow for an entirely different reason.

he had dark brown hair and a thick, well-maintained beard. his bright blue eyes crinkled slightly as he smiled warmly at you, something so easy about the way he smiled that had your knees buckling. and if they did, then he could easily catch you with his arms, tanned and muscular, the arms of a man who spent his life working in some kind of physical labor.

“engine trouble?” he asked, his voice a deep, rumbling thing that made your brain go fuzzy.

“oh.. uh, yeah, maybe? i don’t know for sure. the car just started smoking so i pulled over to look at it” you said, finding it hard to talk with your mouth having gone dry. the sound of a car door opening and the sight of your boyfriend stepping out made your face fall slightly.

you have a boyfriend, right. almost forgot because you were too busy imagining those arms wrapped around- nathan speaking broke you out of your thoughts.

“who are you?” he asked, in a tone that made you wince. looking over at the stranger though, it didn’t even seem like he flinched at nathan puffing up his feathers.

“i’m john, nice to meet you,” john put out his hand for nathan to take. which he did, hesitantly, grimacing slightly at the force john used.

“right, i’m nathan.” he eyes flicked over to you, “not gonna introduce your bird?”

your cheeks flushed, “oh, uh, yeah” you stuttered uselessly before telling him your name.

“beautiful name for a beautiful girl” he winked at you. your mouth fell agape slightly and nathan inhaled a sharp breath, “what do you want, man? we got this handled.” when john’s eyes flicked back to nathan they hardened ever so slightly, even though he still sported a grin on his face.

“just thought i’d offer my help, i mean, it doesn’t seem like you know what you’re doing if you’re making your girl do all the work.”

at that, nathan’s face contorted with rage and he took a step towards john, whose grin only widened at that. after a second to process what happened, you immediately stepped in front of nathan, pressing your hands to his chest, “babe, stop. he’s- he’s just joking, right?” you looked pointedly to john, waiting for him to back you up. you knew it would only end badly if nathan wasn’t calmed down, not because nathan was going to hurt the stranger but because you definitely knew nathan wouldn’t stand a chance against him.

glancing between you and your boyfriend, john relented, “i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to offend you. i was just joking.” looking back to nathan, you noticed his nostrils flare slightly in discontent but he backed down.

“yeah, well, don’t do it again,” nathan huffed. you relaxed slightly, letting your hands slip down from his chest to by your sides again.

“look, i’ll make it up to you. i can tow your car to the nearest mechanic. i happen to know the guy and he can give you a friends and family discount” john said, eyes glancing between you and your boyfriend.

nathan eyed him suspiciously for a second but then nodded, “alright, fine.” john then looked to you and it took a moment before you realized he was waiting for your input. “oh! i didn’t realize you were asking me too. yes, of course, thank you, that’d be wonderful” you said hurriedly. nathan shot you a dirty look when john turned around to go grab some equipment from his truck.

“what the hell was that?” he hissed. “was what?” you asked, even though you knew exactly what he meant. “you, practically starry-eyed, looking at him. acting as if your boyfriend wasn’t standing right there” he glared at you. “i.. i wasn’t starry-eyed” you said softly, it was a weak defense but you couldn’t help but think he was right. a random man off the road looks at you for more than five seconds and you’re already on your back with your belly up for scratches. “whatever, we can talk about this after the car gets fixed.”

after john secured the straps between the cars he admitted that he only had so much seat space in his truck and that one person was going to have to stay in your car for the ride there. suffice to say, nathan wasn’t happy about that.

“can’t we both sit in the car?” he practically whined.

john shrugged, “i guess so, but there’s no use in adding any more weight to the amount i’m towing, takes unnecessary risk, right?”

nathan’s lip twitched in annoyance but he couldn’t really find a reason to argue with him, “fine, i’ll sit in the truck with you.”

john looked amused at that, “making your girl sit in the car all by herself? it’s really none of my business but-“”fine! she can sit up front with you, then. jesus,” nathan said, throwing up his arms and practically stomping his way over to the car.

you winced as he slammed the car door shut and looked apologetically over at john,

“sorry, he’s just.. stressed.” he exhaled sharply through his nose, “stressed, right.”

you bit the inside of your cheek at john’s obvious lack of belief but said nothing else to persuade him, it wouldn’t do any good. the truck door squeaked open as john opened the passenger side for you, gesturing with his other hand, “in you get, sweetheart.”

you blushed slightly at his casual use of pet names, muttering a small thank you as you got in. john shut the door and then got in on his side, sliding across the worn leather bench, his warm thighs practically pressing against yours. he wasn’t lying, the seating in here was limited and you couldn’t imagine what it would have been like if nathan had tried to ride up here with the two of you.

you’re honestly surprised he didn’t. something about john made you want to listen to him, and you could guess that even though nathan was stubborn, he subconsciously felt the same way.

“so, where were you headed? doesn’t seem like you’re from around here” he broke the silence.

“oh, uh, nathan’s parents’ house, he hasn’t seen them in a while, and we figured it was time for me to meet them since we’re coming up on our third anniversary,” you said, fiddling with your hands in your lap.

“ah, the in-laws” he chuckled lightly.

“oh, me and nathan we’re not- i mean, we’re just dating right now. not engaged or anything.”

“three years and he hasn’t put a ring on that pretty finger? hm.” john frowned.

“nathan wants to take it slow. he doesn’t want to rush into anything,” you said, but it felt more like an automated response than something you actually agreed with. sure, there was nothing wrong with taking your time but anytime you brought up marriage or anything like that, nathan would get all defensive. it happened enough that you just stopped bringing it up altogether, and you hadn’t realized until now how much that had hurt you.

“sorry, i overstepped, didnt’t i? laswell’s always telling me i need to stop interrogating people, but old habits die hard.”

“you were in the military, then?” in hindsight you should have guessed something like that, from the way he stood with perfect posture or how he spoke from a place of authority, was likely an officer of some kind.

“yes ma’am, special forces. i served my time, but now i’m retired and trying to put it all behind me.”

you nodded along, “but old habits die hard” you said the words he left hanging in the air.

“exactly” he smiled over at you, making you melt into the seat.

collecting yourself, you cleared your throat then asked, “so what do you do now?”

“ah, inherited a bit of land from my grandad on my mum’s side. decided that when i retired, i would move to the countryside and start a farm.”

you laughed to yourself imagining him chasing around an escaped chicken but quickly stifled it behind your hand. he furrowed his eyebrows but looked at you more quizzically than the scalding expression nathan would have given you,

“and what’s so funny about that, miss?”

you shook your head, “nothing, really. i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to laugh at you.”

“no need to apologize, i like seeing you laugh” he said, something that slipped so casually from his lips it almost startled you.

“thank you” you murmured, looking out the window to hide your flushed cheeks. just in time to save your embarrassment, john slowed the truck to a stop outside a small mechanic shop that read ‘tav and riley repairs.’

a/n: this was so fun to write actually. idek what started this whole thing but i actually typed all of it in my notes app 😭 so sorry for possible errors and also lack of capitalization. i am a certified american writer so sorry if i get something wrong :(

but anyways, lmk if you guys want more of this or if this should be a dark fic or smth more wholesome and fluffy bc i could go either way 😈

[woodywood101blog]

Experimental: 34 Weeks, Part 2

Once they got home, Yazan immediately changed out of his clothes and got into some more comfortable attire. He was dreading the day it would happen, but Yazan finally bit the bullet and put on a bra to try and soak up the leakage. He looked at himself in the mirror and sighed.

“This is beyond insane. Isn’t that right, babies?” He rubbed his belly and felt them react fairly strongly. “Yeah, that’s right.”

He waddled out into the living room where Randy was wiping down the benches. Randy looked up and saw Yazan in a white bra and small green shorts.

“Wow…” Randy’s jaw dropped. “You really are knocked up!”

“Thanks, Randy, I feel it too.” Yazan slowly moved towards the sofa and sat down. He sighed as he lifted his legs to lay on his side on the sofa.

“Hey, I didn’t mean it like that, Yaz! You’re looking… glowing! You’re bringing new life to this world - isn’t that amazing?”

“It would be if I didn’t look so fucking disgusting doing it!”

Randy walked towards the sofa where Yazan started to cry. “Hey, stop that! You are perfectly fine.” Randy grabbed some tissues nearby so Yazan could dab away the tears. “This is all a crazy experience, I get that, but you are so strong. You’re doing what no other man has done before, four times over!”

Yazan chuckled, realising he said the same thing to Mike.

“So, just breathe and relax. We don’t want the babies to worry, because that will be more uncomfortable, alright?”

“Alright, Randy…” Yazan smiled briefly at Randy to try and put him at ease. They looked at each other with a sense of calm.

“I think…” Randy started saying but then stopped himself.

“What? Is everything alright, Randy?”

“I just… ah, fuck it!” Randy turned and kissed Yazan on the lips. At first, Yazan’s eyes bulged at the sudden move by Randy but slowly moaned as their tongues touched.

Randy moved back and looked at the glossy-eyed Yazan. “Wow…” Yazan replied.

Randy immediately leapt back towards Yazan and they kissed more aggressively. Yazan started pulling off Randy’s shirt, exposing his tight 6-pack abs and thick pecs. Randy started pulling off Yazan’s bra, letting his newly-formed breasts hang loose.

Yazan looked down and groaned in disgust, but Randy saw the opportunity. He moved down towards one of Yazan’s nipples and started sucking it. Yazan felt some pressure build up around his chest, but then felt a wave of pleasure as Randy continued sucking and getting more colostrum out of his breast.

“Please…” Yazan gasped. “So… good!”

Randy looked up and saw Yazan’s eyes roll with pleasure as he moved across to the other nipple and started sucking. Yazan moaned even more as the pressure gave way to pleasure, with Randy also moaning as he swallowed the colostrum.

“You’re a good man, Randy! Thank you..” Yazan moaned.

“Who said I was done milking you?” Randy said with a devilish grin. At that moment, Randy moved his way down Yazan’s body, pecking at Yazan’s sensitive belly button. Yazan could feel his dick getting hard from Randy’s touch and kisses, and was rock hard by the time Randy started pulling down Yazan’s shorts. Yazan moaned as he moved his butt upwards to allow Randy to pull the shorts completely off, with Yazan’s dick slapping the base of his belly. His babies kicked the prostate in response, causing Yazan to moan even more as he felt precum leaking out of him.

“You’re so hot, Yaz!” Randy spat on the tip of Yazan’s dick and in one quick movement swallowed Yazan’s dick. Yazan moaned louder as Randy got to work on his dick. He couldn’t actually see what Randy was doing, with the babies in the way, but Yazan felt a surreal vibration permeate across his whole body. He felt himself developing a hot flush rapidly, moaning each time Randy sucked all the way down to the base of his dick. Yazan started tugging at his breasts that were leaking profusely. He started feeling overwhelmed with all the sensations, and felt it come to a climax as he came. He had not been able to jack off in months, as he struggled to reach his dick, so he had quite a lot of pent-up cum, which Randy swallowed completely.

As they caught their breaths, Randy moved back up towards Yazan and slowly kissed him on the neck and cheek. “That was hot, Yaz.”

“I see…”

“What?”

“Of course you weren’t going to find a girl.”

“I guess I was just waiting for the right moment… and you becoming a woman was the moment!” Yazan laughed and lightly slapped Randy on the shoulder. They laid down next to each other on the sofa as they hugged and continued kissing.

After a while, Yazan whispered to Randy, “I want you to fuck me.”

“Really?”

“Yes” Yazan raspily replied. Randy felt a wave of pleasure build as he moaned and kissed Yazan more intensely. He helped Yazan stand up from the sofa. Yazan led the way to the bedroom, with Randy holding onto Yazan’s waist and slowly kissing Yazan’s shoulders and neck.

Once in the bedroom, Yazan turned around and started trying to kneel.

“Yaz, what are you doing?” Randy chuckled.

“I… want to return the favour.” Yaz groaned.

“Yaz… babe, don’t worry. Let me look after you.” Randy helped Yazan get back up on his feet and pecked Yazan on the cheek. “We can try that again once these four are out of here. Instead, I want to fuck you.”

“Yes, Randy!” Yazan moaned sensually as he slowly got onto the bed. Randy let Yazan find a position most comfortable for him, which seemed to be on his hands and knees. Yazan let the belly graze the bed and his breasts droop downwards, dripping liquid. “Ready…”

Randy felt a fire light up in him as he started slowly licking and kissing Yazan’s ass and hole. He noticed that it had an unusually strong taste, almost akin to… 

“Were you preparing yourself, Yaz?”

“No, I can’t reach my asshole, so I can’t douche. Why?”

“Because.. Your ass tastes like pussy.”

“Ohhh…” Yazan groaned as he realised what was happening. He felt himself become more flustered and aroused as Randy kept flicking his tongue deeper into his ass. Should he instead call it a manpussy? Regardless, it became clear to Yazan that his asshole was preparing to push the babies out of him, and it caused all his nerve endings to become as sensitive as a woman’s. It made every single sensation increase tenfold with every kiss, suck and lick from Randy. He shivered in anticipation.

“Please, Randy…. Fuck me!” Yazan moaned.

“You sure you’re ready, babe?”

“Yes!!!”

Randy pulled down his pants to reveal his rock hard 10-inch dick. Yazan looked briefly behind and saw Randy’s fiery eyes stare intensely at his ass. He saw him spit into his hand and rubbed it over his dick. “Alright, Yaz…”

Randy slowly pushed his dick into the entrance of Yazan’s asshole and moaned at how tight yet plushy it felt. Yazan moaned incredibly loudly at the new filling sensation, as he felt Randy’s long and thick dick slide deeper into his ass.

It truly feels like a pussy, Randy thought as he picked up the pace and pushed his whole dick into the hole. It slid so easily in and out, with their symphony of moans and groans becoming one. They felt like two horny teenagers going at it for the first time, not caring at all whether the neighbours could hear. They wanted the world to know that Randy was fucking Yazan and that his manpussy was making it so much better.

Randy leant down to rest on top of Yazan’s back while pummeling in and out of his ass. Yazan continually moaned as he felt the dick push higher in his ass.

“Babe, I’m going to cum.” Yazan screamed.

“Cum for me, babe!” Randy groaned.

Yazan moaned in a higher pitch as he came all over the bed under him and also felt his breasts leak even more colostrum out. He continued to moan as Randy kept going, pushing as deep as he could into Yazan’s ass.

Randy started moaning higher, “Babe, it’s my turn to cum!”

“Oh yeah? Breed me, Randy!”

And with a loud scream, Randy pushed as much of his seed into Yazan’s ass as he could. Yazan sighed as he felt the seed push deep into his manpussy. He couldn’t believe how intense, yet amazing it was.

As they both laid down on the bed, staring deeply into each other's eyes, Yazan whispered, “I feel like I could go again, Randy…”

“Really?!”

***

Mike was sitting in his office looking through the last couple of results from Yazan’s blood and urine tests. He noticed Yazan constantly complaining about headaches in the written observations from Anna and Randy, and the babies were starting to slow down in their movements. At first, he assumed it was just because they were running out of room, and that labour was imminent. However, on closer inspection of the results, he saw a downward trend of oestrogen and progesterone, and an increase in testosterone within Yazan’s blood.

“No… it can’t be.”

Yazan’s body was starting to reject the pregnancy.

[cvnntagious]

omg can you make like a really short angst blurb with babydaddy!matt and read , it could be anything you want! only if you'd like!!

:: brat!reader swears babydaddy!matt will never see her again

"no matt, fuck, just get out," you whisper-yelled in utter annoyance, careful not to raise your voice in front of your child, who was watching tv obliviously on the couch, as you ushered matt out of your front door. he just couldn't take a hint, practically pleading with you to let him stay—let him see his child.

"but mazzy-" he started, only to be cut off by you attempting to close the door on him, to which he pushed to keep open for as long as possible.

your brows furrowed in anger, a scoff louder than intended coming from your throat. "it's always 'mazzy', matt. that's your excuse. i'm sick of it," you spat out bitterly, words incoherent to the toddler a few feet away, who was now looking back at the two of you.

as you rambled on about how you never wanted to see him again, claiming both you and mazzy would be totally fine without him, matt's eyes flicked over towards the innocent girl, watching you angrily gesture at her father with wide eyes and eyelashes that batted at him. a wave of guilt washed over him, and he felt that not-so-familiar lump begin to form in his throat. the hurtful words you whispered in his ear seemed to fade in his mind, and all he could think about was keeping his daughter happy.

the more you said, the more he began to realize you held the power here. he knew he couldn't let whatever harsh emotions you had towards him keep him from seeing his only true joy in life. so he did what any man would to, and he cried.

you paused when you saw tears begin falling down matt's cheeks, the silence deafening as you began to wonder if you'd taken it too far. it was rare that matt cried, but it made sense that he'd cry over your threats of never letting him see his daughter again. "p- please," he finally spoke up, clearing his throat, trying his best to stop the tears from falling and further embarrassing him, "you have to understand, i- baby, i never meant for it to be like this."

there was another silence, save for the sniffles coming from matt. that's when mazzy stands up, her wobbly baby legs making it hard for her to make it across the living room very quickly. but once she did, she was quick to grab your legs from behind, startling you and causing your head to snap down in her direction with a small gasp. she looked up at you, then her dad, "daddy..." she whined, soft little 'princess voice', as matt would tell her, piercing though the tension, "hungry."

it was like your demeanor had completely changed, letting go of the door and crouching to pick up her little body with a well put together smile, "aww, mazzy baby's hungry, hm?" you cooed, pinching her belly softly as you began to cradle her in your arms.

mazzy nodded, another small whine leaving her cute little lips. you looked at matt for a moment, mulling over the options in your head. for a moment, there was a glimmer of hope, almost certain the way she'd whined for her dad was enough to convince you that she, in face, did need him.

that only led to a door in his face, the sound of you locking it echoing within his skull. hear could hear more cooing from the other side of it, unable to make out words as he just... stood there. it was your fault, really - the argument. but again, you held the power.

w/c : 603 a/n : i don't write angst very often, so sorry if this's absolute garbage lmaoo, i honestly didn't expect people to love bd!matt this much

-love, your grandma cvnty☆!

[rafeskai]

Life as We Know It — Rafe Cameron

Chapter Two

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: Inspired by the movie "Life as We Know It"!

Masterlist: Here

It had been three days since you’d found yourself in Rafe’s house, a place that now felt more like a cage than a refuge. You hadn’t had much time to adjust to the new reality. Between the funeral, the endless meetings with lawyers and child services, and the sudden responsibility of Willa, everything seemed to blur together in a haze of exhaustion.

You had told yourself you’d stay at the house more often, that you’d help Rafe get into a routine with Willa, but the sheer weight of everything had left you in a constant state of uncertainty. It wasn’t just that you were suddenly her guardian, it was that you were also navigating a delicate, complicated dynamic with Rafe. Every time you thought you had a handle on things, another obstacle seemed to rise up in front of you.

But life didn’t stop, and the bills still needed to be paid. So, you found yourself at the local café by 7 a.m. every morning, working the early shift as if it were a lifeline to some semblance of normalcy. The smell of fresh coffee and pastries helped ground you, a comfort amidst the chaos.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

That morning, you found yourself staring blankly at the coffee machine, lost in thought as you tried to get a fresh batch brewing. Willa’s laugh echoed in your mind, that small, joyful sound she’d made when you’d managed to make her smile that morning at Rafe’s house. But then there was Rafe—his disheveled hair, his barely-contained frustration as he tried to make breakfast, as if he were a stranger in his own life.

You shook the thoughts away, focusing on the task at hand. You couldn’t afford distractions right now.

"Hey, [Y/N], you okay?" Jess, your co-worker, asked as she slid into the back room, eyeing you with concern. Jess had been your friend since you started working at the café, and while she wasn’t a mind reader, she could always tell when something was off.

You nodded quickly, putting a smile on your face. "Yeah, just a little tired. You know how it is."

She raised an eyebrow, but didn’t press further. "Well, the morning rush is about to hit, and we’re already behind, so I’ll let you catch up. Just take it easy when you can, alright?"

You offered a grateful smile, trying to ignore the tightness in your chest. Jess had a way of reading you, and the last thing you wanted was to let her know the extent of what you were juggling.

The morning rush came and went, the familiar frenzy of orders, refills, and people coming and going. By noon, the crowd thinned, and you finally got a break. You slipped into the back room, sitting on one of the crates as you checked your phone, hoping for a distraction.

You had a few missed texts, mostly from Sarah’s family offering condolences, a few work-related messages, and then... one from Rafe.

Can you come over tonight? Willa’s been fussy all day. I can’t figure out what she wants.

You stared at the message for a moment, your thumb hovering over the screen. You’d been trying to keep your distance from Rafe, only coming over when absolutely necessary, and still, he was asking for help. He hadn’t exactly been forthcoming with his emotions, but there was something about the way he’d written this message that gave you pause.

You knew it wasn’t just about Willa—it never had been. There was still tension between you and Rafe, an unspoken rift that neither of you had quite figured out how to cross. Yet, here he was, reaching out.

You sighed, rubbing your temples. You’d been trying to balance it all—work, helping Rafe, and processing the grief that seemed to be dragging you under—but it wasn’t easy. You needed to be there for Willa, but you also needed to keep your job, and your sanity.

After a moment of contemplation, you typed out a reply. I’ll be there around six. I can stay for a few hours.

You didn’t know what you expected, but you sure as hell didn’t expect the quick response. 

Thanks. I’ll make dinner. She’s been restless.

You felt a strange knot form in your stomach at the offer. Dinner? From Rafe Cameron? A part of you wanted to laugh, but another part—an irrational, confusing part—wondered if this was his way of trying to do something right, for once.

The rest of your shift passed in a blur. You tried to focus on the coffee orders and the chatter of the customers, but all you could think about was Rafe and the odd, fragile dynamic that had begun to take root.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

By the time you pulled into Rafe’s driveway later that evening, you could feel the exhaustion settling deep into your bones. But Willa needed you, and whether or not you wanted to admit it, Rafe did, too.

You took a deep breath before getting out of your car, trying to mentally prepare yourself for whatever awaited inside.

The house looked even bigger at night, the lights from the interior casting long shadows across the front yard. As you walked up the stone path, you noticed the faint scent of something cooking—garlic, herbs... something surprisingly warm and inviting.

When you stepped inside, the familiar coldness of the house hit you, but this time, there was something different. The warmth of a home-cooked meal filled the air, and for the briefest moment, it almost felt like things could be normal again.

Rafe was in the kitchen, his sleeves rolled up as he stood over the stove. He looked up when you entered, a slight tension in his posture as if he was still waiting for you to call him out on some unseen mistake.

“Hey,” you said quietly, watching him carefully. “Dinner smells good.”

He nodded, but didn’t meet your eyes. “It’s nothing fancy. Just pasta, I—uh, thought it might help if she had something warm.” His voice faltered, just a little, but he quickly recovered.

You glanced over at Willa, who was in her high chair, her small hands gripping the edge of the tray as she watched Rafe. She looked so small in the expansive room, and the sight hit you in a way you weren’t prepared for.

You walked over to her, gently picking her up from the chair. “Hey, little one,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

Rafe turned away from the stove, his hands gripping the counter as he stared down at the floor. "I don't know what I'm doing. She won’t stop crying, and I... I don’t get it."

You felt a pang of sympathy, despite everything. You moved toward him, your voice soft. “It’s okay. You’re doing fine. It’s all new for both of us. You don’t have to have all the answers.”

Rafe looked up at you, his expression tense but vulnerable. "Yeah. I guess I just... I want to do right by her. I don’t want to screw this up."

You nodded, the weight of his words sinking in. 

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The sound of Willa’s cries echoed through the vast kitchen, filling the space with a noise that felt almost too loud for the house. She was tiny, yet her cries were fierce, relentless. It had been over an hour, and you were beginning to feel like you were running out of options. You had tried everything.

You’d fed her, changed her, rocked her. But no matter what you did, she wouldn’t stop. Willa’s little fists clenched and her body writhed in your arms, the tears never slowing, never quieting.

“Come on, Willa,” you muttered, trying to soothe her with the kind of gentle rocking you’d seen Sarah do a million times. But nothing worked. You glanced over at Rafe, who was standing across the kitchen with his arms crossed, looking both helpless and frustrated.

“I don’t get it,” he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his already messy hair. “Why the hell won’t she stop?”

You didn’t have an answer. Honestly, you didn’t know why she was crying, either. She had been fine all afternoon, playing with her toys, laughing when you made funny faces at her. But now, she was inconsolable, and it was starting to tear at your patience—and Rafe’s too.

You rocked Willa more gently, trying to keep calm. "I don’t know," you said softly, your voice low and soothing. “Maybe it’s... something else. She could be tired, or maybe she’s just upset. Babies have their moods.” You spoke from experience, but your words felt thin in the moment. You hadn’t expected to be thrown into this role, and you were starting to feel every bit of the weight of it.

Rafe glanced at you, his brow furrowing. “Do you think she’s sick?” he asked, his voice laced with genuine concern.

You shook your head. "I don't think so... I mean, she doesn’t have a fever. Maybe it's just... a bad moment." You were doing your best to sound confident, but even you didn’t believe the words you were saying.

Willa’s cries intensified, her tiny body wriggling in your arms, making it even harder to calm her. Your chest tightened with frustration, helplessness. It was hard enough to balance everything with the weight of the situation, but right now? You felt completely out of your depth.

“I don’t know what else to do,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. You looked over at Rafe, who hadn’t moved an inch since you started holding Willa. His face was tight, his eyes narrowed in frustration, but there was something else there, too—something you hadn’t expected: vulnerability.

He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it. After a few more seconds of Willa’s crying, he finally broke the silence.

“Maybe I could try,” he offered, his voice a bit softer, tentative.

You were surprised at the offer. You’d never seen Rafe with kids—never even imagined him with a child this young. But there was something in the way he said it, a quiet desperation, that made you nod.

“Yeah. Try.” You handed Willa to him, careful not to jostle her too much as she continued to wail. She was still kicking her legs, her face scrunched up in distress.

Rafe hesitated for just a second before adjusting her in his arms, awkwardly holding her against his chest. His expression was uncertain, like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with this tiny person who was now his responsibility.

“Hey, Willa,” Rafe said softly, his voice surprisingly gentle. “It’s okay. You’re safe. We got you.”

He bounced her lightly, just enough to make her feel the rhythm of his movements. For a moment, nothing changed. Willa’s cries didn’t soften, but Rafe didn’t seem to mind. His focus was entirely on her, like he was determined to make it work.

You watched him for a moment, trying not to show your surprise. You didn’t think you’d ever see Rafe in this light. The way he moved, the way he spoke to Willa—there was something different in his tone, something real.

But the crying didn’t stop. Willa’s cries just seemed to escalate, as though she was testing him, testing you both.

Rafe gritted his teeth, adjusting his hold on her again, more firmly this time. “Alright, little one,” he muttered under his breath, his voice still trying to stay calm despite the rising frustration. "We’re gonna get this right. I swear."

He then shifted, trying a different approach, gently patting her back. He’d seen Sarah do it before, you knew, but it still felt foreign coming from him.

You, not sure what else to do, knelt beside him, trying to be as calm and soothing as possible. You placed a hand gently on Willa’s leg. “Shh… Willa, sweetie, it’s okay,” you cooed, matching Rafe’s rhythm.

And then, something unexpected happened. Slowly, gradually, Willa’s cries began to soften. Her body stopped wriggling as much, her little fists loosened. It wasn’t immediate, and it wasn’t magic, but her wails started to turn into quiet sobs, then sniffling, then, finally, she rested her head against Rafe’s chest.

You exhaled a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.

"See?" you said softly, your heart still racing. "I told you it was just a moment."

Rafe, his face still a bit tense but now with a faint trace of relief, looked down at Willa. Her eyelids fluttered as she finally, finally, drifted off to sleep.

“I don’t get it,” he said quietly, shaking his head. “I tried everything, but... she calms down when you do that. When we’re both here.”

You shrugged, feeling the exhaustion in your own body. “Sometimes... it just takes both of us. Babies are unpredictable.” You didn’t know what else to say, because, truth be told, you didn’t really understand it either. But you knew one thing for sure—despite your differences, despite the chaos, this was something you could do together.

Rafe shifted his weight, still holding Willa carefully. “Thanks,” he said quietly, as if he hadn’t just gone through a whirlwind of frustration. It was brief, but there was sincerity in his voice. “I didn’t think... I mean, I wasn’t sure I could handle this.”

You glanced up at him, and for the first time in a long time, you saw something different in his eyes—something that wasn’t defiance or anger, but something closer to gratitude.

“You’re not alone in this,” you said softly. “We’ll figure it out, one step at a time.”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The house had fallen into a strange stillness after Willa finally settled into bed, her little form bundled up in the crib, tucked in for the night. The hours of chaos, the endless crying, the uncertainty—it had all melted into a tense kind of quiet that felt almost too heavy to breathe through. You and Rafe were both exhausted, physically and emotionally, but the weight of the situation hadn’t lightened one bit.

You leaned against the counter in the kitchen, your fingers wrapped around a mug of warm tea, trying to find some semblance of calm. The silence was comforting in a way, but also suffocating. You and Rafe hadn’t exchanged many words since Willa had fallen asleep. There had been a brief moment where you’d both sat at the kitchen table, exhausted, sipping coffee in silence, but now it felt like the quiet was pressing in from all sides.

Rafe was standing by the window, his arms crossed, looking out into the darkened yard. He had been quiet for a while, but you could feel his presence like a weight in the room. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he spoke.

"You know," he began, his voice low but firm. "I’ve been thinking. Maybe it would be better if you just moved in here."

You froze, your fingers tightening around the mug in your hands. "What?" You turned to face him, the surprise evident in your voice. "What are you talking about? Why would I—"

He cut you off, not giving you a chance to react. "Look, we’re both her guardians now, right? I get it—you have your life, your job, but you can’t keep going back and forth between here and the café. Willa needs us both, and we both need to be there for her."

You blinked, trying to process his words. "That’s... a huge thing to suggest, Rafe." You shook your head, stepping away from the counter, moving to the other side of the room. "You think it’s easy for me? You think I don’t have a life outside of this? I’ve got my job, my own responsibilities. I can’t just—move in here."

He turned, his gaze sharp as he watched you. "I’m not saying it would be permanent, but Willa... she’s not going to be okay if we’re both stressed out all the time. You’re already running yourself ragged. This way, you wouldn’t have to go back and forth. You could be here when she needs you, and you wouldn’t have to worry about missing shifts or running out of time."

You felt your pulse quicken, frustration creeping in. "You don’t get it, do you? It’s not just about time. This is my life, Rafe. I’m not just going to—what?—move in with you? Because that’s what you think is best?"

Rafe’s face hardened. "It’s not about what I think is best, [Y/N]. It’s about what Willa needs. You think it’s easy for me, either? I didn’t sign up for this. But here we are, and we both have to step up. We both have to make sacrifices."

Your breath hitched, your voice shaking with the weight of it all. "You think I haven’t thought about that? But this isn’t just about ‘stepping up,’ Rafe. This is about our lives. You can’t just dictate how things are going to work because you suddenly want to play house. I’m not some—"

"Not some what?" he snapped, cutting you off, his jaw tightening as his temper flared. "You think I’m asking for you to live with me because it’s some great idea? I’m trying to help you. You can’t keep doing this alone, and neither can I."

You felt a sting of anger rise in your chest, the frustration of everything spilling out. "I don’t need you to help me, Rafe. I don’t need you to fix everything. I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t ask for any of this!"

There was a long, painful silence that hung between you both, a tension that had been building ever since that damn phone call, and now, it seemed like it might tear everything apart.

Rafe exhaled sharply, his shoulders sagging slightly as the heat of his anger cooled into something more complicated, more raw. "I’m not trying to fix everything," he muttered, his voice quieter now, laced with frustration. "I’m just trying to do the right thing. I didn’t ask for any of this, either, but I can’t keep pretending it’s just going to work if we’re both barely holding on. You need help. I need help."

Your heart ached at the words, and for a brief moment, you thought you saw the cracks in his armor, the vulnerability he tried so hard to hide. But you pushed it aside, unwilling to let the floodgates open.

"I don’t need you, Rafe," you repeated, more firmly now. "I need to figure out how to do this on my own. We’re both her guardians, but I’m not going to make this—whatever this is—worse by complicating it. I can’t just move in here and pretend like that makes everything better."

His face tightened, the walls going back up, the Rafe you knew slipping behind his defenses. "Fine," he said, his voice flat. "Then keep living your life. Keep juggling it all, and see how far that gets you."

You shook your head, your words coming out in a rush. "You think this is easy for me? You think I don’t care? I care, Rafe. But this isn’t just about what’s easiest for you, or me, or anyone else. It’s about Willa. And right now, she needs more than just two people fighting over what’s best for her. She needs stability. She needs peace."

Rafe was silent for a long moment, the tension still thick in the room. His eyes flickered to the hallway where Willa’s room was, the soft rise and fall of her tiny chest visible through the crack of the door. His face softened for just a fraction of a second, but then he steeled himself again.

"Yeah," he said, his voice quieter now, though there was still a trace of frustration. "She needs peace. And maybe you’re right. Maybe this isn’t the right call." He turned his back to you, his body tense as if he was still holding onto something you couldn’t see.

You felt your anger begin to ebb, replaced by a quiet weariness that settled deep in your chest. You wanted to argue more, to fight for your space, for your independence. But the truth was, Rafe’s idea, crazy as it seemed, did make some sense. And yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to agree.

You stayed silent, the space between you growing more and more uncomfortable, until Rafe finally broke the stillness.

"I guess we’ll just have to figure it out, huh?" he said, his voice distant.

You nodded, though you weren’t sure if you were agreeing with him—or just acknowledging the mess you’d both gotten into.

"Yeah," you whispered. "I guess so."

And for the first time in a long time, the silence between you both wasn’t just filled with tension. It was filled with uncertainty.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ 

It had been weeks since the argument, weeks since you and Rafe had first clashed over what was best for Willa, what was best for the two of you. You’d spent those weeks bouncing between your place, Rafe’s, and the café, and with each passing day, it was becoming more and more clear that you couldn’t keep it up. You were running on fumes, your mind spinning with the constant demands of work, the responsibilities of being Willa’s guardian, and the weight of your personal life crumbling under the strain.

You couldn’t do it anymore.

It was a quiet morning when you finally made the decision. The sun had barely risen, casting a soft, golden glow across the living room of your small house. You hadn’t been home in days, had barely slept in your own bed. Willa was still adjusting to the routine, and the nights at Rafe’s were becoming more frequent. The constant back and forth was wearing you down.

You stood at the kitchen counter, staring at the coffee mug in your hand, the warmth barely reaching you. It was still early, and the sound of Rafe’s truck hadn’t yet filtered through the house. But today, you had to make it right.

You had to admit you couldn’t juggle it all.

The idea of moving in had been haunting you for days, but admitting it was another thing entirely. Rafe’s offer wasn’t just about practicality—it was about more than that. About Willa, about what you and Rafe were going to have to become for her. You’d been resisting it, pushing it away because it felt like giving up control of your life. But you knew you couldn’t keep going on this way.

And so, you made your decision.

When Rafe finally walked through the front door a few hours later, his presence filled the space like it always did—big, heavy, almost too much to ignore. He didn’t say anything at first, just kicked off his boots and moved to the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water before leaning against the counter, his gaze flickering over to you.

“You good?” he asked, his voice low but not unkind.

You set your mug down, taking a deep breath before you spoke. “I’ve been thinking,” you said, your voice steady but with an undercurrent of hesitation. “And I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep bouncing between my place, yours, and work. It’s... it’s too much.”

Rafe’s brow furrowed slightly. “So what does that mean?”

You met his gaze, the weight of what you were about to say pressing down on you. “I’m going to move in. I can’t juggle all of this alone. But there are some conditions.”

Rafe tilted his head, his eyes narrowing just slightly in curiosity. “Conditions?” he echoed, a hint of skepticism in his voice. “Like what?”

You took a breath and laid it out, clear and firm. “First, I’m not giving up my job at the café. I need that. I need a space where I can breathe and do something for myself. I’m going to be there on my shifts, but I won’t be running myself into the ground. So, we need to find a rhythm that works. I can’t just be at home all day, every day. I have my own life, too.”

Rafe nodded slowly, processing the first part. “Okay. Makes sense.” He crossed his arms, waiting for the rest.

“Second,” you continued, your voice unwavering. “I’m not going to just be a ‘housewife’ or whatever. I need to be treated as an equal, I’m her legal guardian too, not some babysitter. I’ll help with Willa, but I can’t take on the full load. If we’re doing this, we’re both sharing it.”

Rafe didn’t argue with that. He gave a slight nod, the corners of his mouth twitching as if he were preparing for the next condition.

“And third,” you added, stepping forward, your gaze never leaving his. “We set some boundaries. This is for Willa. We’re doing this for her, but I’m not moving in here for any other reason. We need to keep things professional—for her sake. I’m not moving in here just to... make things weird.” You paused, feeling the tension rise between you. “If we’re doing this, it’s for Willa. Nothing more, nothing less.”

There was a long silence between you two as Rafe absorbed your words. He was silent for a moment, then exhaled through his nose, a sound of reluctant agreement. “Fair enough,” he said. “I can deal with that. We both need to be in this equally. No one person doing more than the other.” He glanced over at you, a little more seriously now. “And about the boundaries... I’m not trying to make this any more complicated than it has to be. I get it. You’re here to help with Willa, and I’m not going to make that weird.”

It was strange, the way things were shifting between you both. There was a subtle shift in his tone, something closer to understanding. As much as Rafe might have wanted to fight you on it, you knew he respected the fact that you were being clear about your limits.

“So, what now?” he asked, breaking the silence. “You move in today?”

You nodded. “Yeah. But, you’ll have to help me get my stuff together. I’m not just leaving everything behind, Rafe.” You allowed a small, almost imperceptible smile to tug at the corner of your lips. “You’re not getting off that easy.”

Rafe smirked, the tension breaking between you two for the first time in weeks. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll help. Just don’t expect me to pack your clothes.”

You laughed quietly, feeling the weight on your chest lift just a little. “I don’t need you to pack my clothes. I just need you to be... not a pain in the ass while I get settled in.”

Rafe raised an eyebrow. “No promises there.”

You shook your head, a soft chuckle escaping your lips. It was a step in the right direction, you told yourself. A step toward figuring out how to make this new life work.

Maybe it wasn’t going to be easy. Maybe it would take time, patience, and more compromises than you had ever imagined. But one thing was clear: you couldn’t do this on your own. And maybe, just maybe, with Rafe by your side, you could figure out what it meant to be a family, even if it wasn’t the family you’d ever expected.

With a deep breath, you took the first step.

"Alright," you said. "Let’s go get my stuff."

© 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.

[emasstars]

broken glass

simon riley doubts his worthiness of having you | hurt/comfort(?)

sorry i was gone for so long. i haven’t felt motivated in a while. this is just an attempt to get back into writing. i’ve been working on various projects, abandoning them halfway through. was relatively proud of this, so i’ve decided to post it.

mentions of abuse. insecurities. i don’t know, tell me if i missed any.

He was born into a home of broken glass, every argument a shard, every silence a fracture.

Simon Riley had been born into chaos. His earliest memories were of screams that echoed through the halls of a crumbling home, the heavy thuds of fists against thin walls, the sound of a door slamming as his mother stumbled from the house, her face bruised and hollow. His father, always drunk, was a constant presence—a shadow, a monster—who only softened when his fists fell silent, usually in a moment of fleeting remorse, or more likely, when his anger was spent.

He was a man who was shattered like thin glass, a splinter that made you bleed and quickly pull your hand away like there was fire. He drew blood, his hands rough and calloused, a man too harsh to be loved. War was all he had, and all he’d known, even if he wanted to know better. He had so many questions, and yet he choked on the words as he tried to ask, instead opting to drown deeply in the cacophony of screams. He searched for peace, a man who’d never experienced such, echoes of gunshots ringing in his ears and never offering any silence. He was engineered by a system to survive, to endure, but never to heal.

Simon didn’t sleep anymore, or, if he did, it was never rest.

His whole life had been dedicated to violence, actively seeking it as much as he avoided it. He felt stained with the blood he drew, scars along his back only indicating the pain he endured rather than that which he caused. Simon was a man who was supposed to be dead, and yet, the cruel God which seemed to have cursed him refused to let such a thing occur. His soul cracked in ways he couldn't articulate, his body a crumpled map of all he'd been through. He’d gone through existence without ever living.

He sought for warmth and comfort, even though he knew he could never be worthy of such a thing. He was a man who stained the snow-lands a deep scarlet. He was a wreck of a man who broke everything with his touch, strangling flowers in his grasp.

Perhaps that was why he fell so hard for you. You were like a beacon of light, granting him some solace. Giving him sympathies which he didn’t deserve, yet he yearned for. His head rested on your chest as he listened to your heart beat, assuring him that you were real and you were here. Whispered confessions of love still left doubt in his twisted mind, convinced you’d find someone better than him. He was convinced you might leave, holding on tightly to you and treating you as best as a man like him knew how to.

He’d never had a proper role model for love, most of the things he knew having been learned from books he’d stumbled upon or movies he’d watched. He was a man with a wicked father, and no matter the care of his mother, that evilness he believed was deep inside him could never be cancelled out. Love was a foreign language to him.

After all, there was no escaping the ghosts that haunted him, for he was one himself.

And yet you made him believe it might be possible.

His harsh voice would whisper your name like a secret prayer, his hand with its scarred knuckles gripping your gentle hand tightly. Perhaps he was finally starting to believe you might not go anywhere.

One night, in the capture of the moonlight which snuck through the cracks of the pulled curtains, Simon asked, slightly more loudly than he intended to, “why do you love me?”

Fingers that were previously toying with his slowed to a stop, and you adjusted yourself to stare at him. “What do you mean?” you replied. Your brows were furrowed, confusion evident on your face, and yet Simon could swear you looked like a deity. A blessing, was what you were to him. Someone who managed to let him know that maybe he wasn’t as ill as he’d convinced himself he was, a carefully-crafted facade having broken down more as the months turned into years.

He sat up, not sure how to word it. He was a man of few of those, after all. He plainly answered, “exactly what I asked,” slightly shrugging.

You bit your lip, seemingly thinking for a moment. It felt like a stupid question. Why did anyone love anyone, after all? Why did he love you, you could even ask. You swallowed, deciding to softly say, “because you’re worth loving.”

And perhaps he might one day start to believe he is, especially of the love of yours. The moments of bared insecurity were rare, occurring in only the latest times of night, the moon the only other witness of the confessions. They were caused by exhaustion, barely recalled when the sun rose. Yet, each night it happened, as he let himself sometimes cry in your arms after a nightmare, or letting drops of pain drip out of his soul, he was slowly starting to believe your honesty when you said you would not leave.

When you said that you love him.

He was a man with a shattered ego which he’d tried to tape back together flimsily, yet you made new parts of him which were whole. Certain parts could never be filled, but as long as you were in his arms, the pains of his soul may slowly fade away into nothing but background noise, lullabies of your words drowning them out as delicate fingers ran themselves over his scarred and tortured body.

A hand rough from holding knives and guns could tend for flowers as well, he was slowly starting to learn.

[mvrkieboo]

Old Bloodhounds

P50 | screw the rebellious teenage phase

TW : violence, suicide scene, and slight gore

Mark was jumping in his seat, and Yuno couldn't stop laughing at Mark's display of unadulterated joy and excitement. It was kind of cute, seeing how happy he was on Yuno's behalf, now that he's officially a music artist now. Geonwoo and Woojin were beaming at the front seats too, glad that Yuno is finally achieving his lifelong dream.

"You've been dreaming about this ever since we were kids, Jae. Oh my god, you're a singer now. A full-fledged singer, with a record deal under one of the biggest labels in our country!" Mark exclaimed, slamming his head back with a big smile on his face.

"Thanks, dude. I owe it to you guys—I wouldn't be here now if it wasn't for your work in managing the MNA Week." Yuno laughed, ruffling the younger man's hair.

"My mom said your highschool friends just arrived at the café—everyone is just waiting for us to arrive now." Geonwoo showed the text messages he exchanged with his mom, and Soyeon even sent a picture of Yuta, Doyoung and Jungwoo posing with Yuno's dad under the café lights.

Yuno nodded, feeling good with himself that he opted for an intimate party among close family and friends only. Well, family with the exception of you. Yuno wasn't that surprised when Mark told him that you declined the invitation, because you already made plans with Junyoung for tonight, but the disappointment was still there, palpable and aching.

He rested his head against the car window, looking at the city lights shining in the nighttime. He wondered if you and Junyoung were among the crowd of people moving along on the sidewalk, and he wondered if you were truly happy after pushing everyone else away. He hoped you were—no matter where you were and who you were with—but he can't help and feel bitter that him, Mark, Geonwoo and Woojin weren't part of your current happy life now.

If you were so happy with Junyoung, then so be it.

"We're here!" Woojin exclaimed, and Mark practically hopped out of the car.

Jaehyun's smile returned.

At least he could be happy with the people you had left behind.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Sure, you had left your phone and wallet at the apartment, but he didn't specify that you should have left all of your phones—so you had tucked Yuno's old phone under your bra on your back, confident that Yoonsu wouldn't notice it since you were also wearing a thick leather blazer that you had stolen from Yuno's wardrobe (so you at least had another thing of him with you while living with Yoonsu).

You made sure to block Detective Do's number and turned the phone off beforehand, knowing Detective Do was driving himself crazy in trying to reach you—but you promised you would turn it on once you had the chance, so they could track down your location. It was the least you could for Detective Do's sake, to ease his job. For now, however, you wanted the detectives to be several steps behind before you could get Yoonsu to tell where Junyoung was buried.

"This is our stop." Yoonsu muttered stiffly. The stop was in downtown Seoul, streets littered with old and underdeveloped buildings.

He stood up and roughly pulled on your arm, it even caught the attention of the other passengers. You smiled stiffly at them while Yoonsu practically dragged you out of the bus, his face all stoic and icy. It was uncharacteristic of him. Yoonsu would always taunt you with an ugly smile on his face, always taking the opportunity to insult you and rub salt into your wounds—but he had been quiet for the whole bus ride.

And you've always been aware just how angry he was with you, but he's never displayed his anger in such a raw manner before. You gulped, now fully convinced he did notice that the blackmail file he had over you was wiped out of his phone. That's why he was extra pissed.

He dragged you all the way to the destination, walking ahead with his hand gripping on your arm as you walked behind him. The more you walked, the more you understood that he was definitely dragging you to that one abandoned building at the very end of the street.

However, because he was so busy 'guiding' you to your intended destination, and as you got near the abandoned building, you took the opportunity to reach behind you from under your shirt and turned on the phone, pulling it out of your bra and discreetly throwing it into the unattended bushes so the impact wouldn't make a sound.

Yoonsu didn't notice a thing.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"Kyungsoo, we got something!" Chanyeol—who works for Gangnam PD's Cyber Crimes Unit—yelled through the phone.

He cringed at the oaf's deep ass voice yelling into his ear, but decided to ignore it, because he was busy trying to find you. Just why did you have to follow Yoonsu? That was your chance to escape—you could've finally been free of him!

No, you just had to go off on your own again—still stuck in your rebellious teenage phase. Screw the rebellious teenage phase, Kyungsoo mentally cursed.

"We suddenly got a signal from her alternate phone—it's pinging in downtown Seoul, near an abandoned factory. It was shut down years ago because it got busted as a drug production base. I'm confident this is where Yoonsu took her." Chanyeol explained carefully and efficiently, fingers slamming on the keycaps of his keyboard before continuing, "It's 25 minutes away by car from where you are right now—but if you floor the pedal and take some totally illegal shortcuts—"

"15 minutes?" Kyungsoo spoke hopefully, already getting inside the car with Taeyong driving.

"10 minutes."

"Send me the location."

Taeyong took out the revolving red light and stamped it on the roof of the car before flooring the gas pedal. Now that they also got to ignore red lights and make other cars on the road get out of their way, they can reach you sooner than 10 minutes.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

It took forever to reach the underground level of this building, and it didn't help that the limited light almost had you tumbling down the stairs if it weren't for Yoonsu guiding you so confidently through the dark.

Once you felt that your feet were on solid floor, Yoonsu swung at you, managing to land a punch hard enough that it had you lying on the floor. You tasted blood, and your right cheek ached like a bitch. The fucker just broke your nose. You groaned at the pain, holding on to your nose as Yoonsu went down to straddle you, pulling on the lapels of your leather blazer.

"How did you do it?" He gritted out.

"Do what?" You bit out, the blood that dripped into your lips sputtered out as you talked.

He gave you a harsh slap on your face, that had your teeth tearing the inside of your cheek. What a mean piece of shit, for slapping you where he had just landed a punch on you. Your right cheek was going to swell up into a puff.

"How did you wipe away the file without me noticing, you slimy bitch."

You spit out the blood and began to laugh, wheezing and cackling like a hyena. Oh, you had the sense that he had decided to kill you tonight. Landing blows on your face without a care of the consequences—he was crashing out, and it was a hilarious sight to behold.

Not as smart as he thought he was, huh?

When you saw his arm rising to land another blow on you, you quickly caught it, twisting it as hard as you could, giving yourself the chance to slip your leg up from under him and kicked him in the stomach to get him off of you. The kick had him wheezing, holding on to his stomach as he lied on his back.

Thank god for the self defense lessons Geonwoo and Woojin had put you through. In fact, you were just thankful for Geonwoo and Woojin in general.

"I stole my brother's old phone and sim card, used it to contact Detective Do. You didn't even notice it—because you're not as smart as you think you are, bastard." Your voice sounded guttural, like an animal growling.

When you went to kick him while he was down, he caught your ankle and pulled on it, causing you to fall on your back, the back of your head making an impact on the floor. That wasn't good. That was going to hinder you. You can already feel your world spinning.

Well, at least you didn't black out—so that counts as something, right?

He stood up and pulled you along as you tried to focus, trying to will away the spontaneous major headache. He punched you in the stomach, and that was a low move on his part—because he had kicked you in the stomach a week ago. It was cheap shit. Him calling you a slimy bitch? He was the slimy one.

But all those years of wasting away, not able to afford the luxurious lifestyle anymore, losing access to top notch personal trainers and private gyms—he's gotten skinny, his combat skills turned rusty. He's gotten significantly weak, that's why cheap shots and blackmail were all that could do now.

When you realised it, you laughed again, even as you held your stomach because laughing was making it hurt, but you didn't give a shit. God, he's gotten so pathetic. It's fucking hilarious.

"You think you're slick? You think you're smart, princess? You knew the blackmail was gone, but you followed me here anyway like some kind of idiot—for what? Have you gotten used to me pulling on you by your leash, bitch?" He was practically frothing at the mouth, spit flying out as he spoke to you, pulling on your hair so you could face him directly.

"No," You muttered out, gripping on his collar and pushing him into an emergency box containing a fire extinguisher, and the glass shattered when his head made impact with it, "I knew that if I let Detective Do take me away from you, you'd just kill yourself, because you'd realise you've lost everything at that point."

Pulling away from him, you returned the favor and landed a cheap shot on him too—a kick to his groin, hard enough it had him kneeling on the floor at the pain, sputtering out insanely vile curses at you. You stood above him, wiping away the blood that dripped down your chin.

"And I want to know where you buried Junyoung. Since I already told you how I wiped out your blackmail file, it's only fair—" You paused, feeling a sick sense of satisfaction rush through your veins when you actually managed to kick him in the stomach this time as he writhed on the floor, "—you tell me what I want to know now. I played your game, Yoonsu, but I also got to win it too—so give me my prize, you fucker."

Then you gave him another kick, this time harder than before, as it sent him sliding on the tiled floor.

He mumbled out something you can't quite hear.

"What?"

He mumbled again.

You crouched next to his writhing form, pulling his head up by the hairs of his scalp, making him wince. He didn't realise you could be this violent. He wanted to laugh when he realised the psychological torture he put you through was what pushed you to the brink like this.

"Oh, sweetie—I buried him at your highschool, at that abandoned plant nursery your students stopped working on. I gave those poor neglected plants some good fertilizer."

You let go of his head at his answer. Yoonsu wheezed some more, until he suddenly stopped.

"I'll bury you there too. Since you love him so much, I'll let you rot away alongside him."

You instinctively tried to distance yourself from him at his sudden change of air, but he was faster. He sat up, and you suddenly felt a sharp pain in your mid torso.

As you glanced down, you saw that he had stabbed you with a big glass shard of the broken emergency box you shoved him into. You gasped when he pulled it out of you, only for him to stab you again, in a lower spot than the previous stab wound. He watched as you fell on your back, hands frantically trying to cover where he had just stabbed you.

The stairs rumbled, and Yoonsu glanced up to see it was that pesky Detective Do at the top of the stairs along with a man Yoonsu didn't recognize—he deducted it was probably Kyungsoo's newest partner.

When Kyungsoo saw you lying on the ground, blood seeping through your white shirt as you desperately tried to cover your wounds up with your hands, he felt his heart stop. Right next to you, Junyoung—no, Yoonsu—Yoonsu was sitting next to you, holding on a big glass shard that was slathered in blood.

He had stabbed you.

Yoonsu stabbed you.

Then Yoonsu pointed the glass shard to himself.

"NO—"

He stabbed himself in the throat.

Kyungsoo and Taeyong ran to you both. The older detective went to the criminal while the younger one went to you, pressing on your wounds to hamper the blood loss. Kyungsoo observed the glass shard in Yoonsu's throat. Judging from how much blood he was losing in a rapid rate, there was nothing he could do. Yoonsu hit his own artery. Nothing could save him, but you however—

Kyungsoo took out his walkie talkie, requesting an ambulance for you. He let out a loud 'THANK FUCK' when the nearest ambulance was just close by since this part of downtown Seoul needed constant assistance from emergency responders anyway.

He turned to you. Kyungsoo focused on pressing one stab wound while Taeyong on the other, both men didn't care that your blood was staining their clothes.

"Kid, don't go to sleep, okay? Fuck—just—you just—" Kyungsoo can feel his heart dropping as the seconds went by, and suddenly 5 minutes felt like too long for the ambulance to come by.

"...hold on?" You let out weakly.

Kyungsoo nodded, feeling his tears welling up in his eyes. By no means was he still a rookie, to still get so emotionally worked up over a case and its victims—but you were different. You were already one of Yoonsu's victims when you had to work as a stripper for him all those years ago, but here you were again. You had been tormented by Yoonsu again. You got hurt again.

And you were still too young to be going through this.

"Old plant nursery, Cheongdaebi Highschool..." You whispered.

"What about that place?" Kyungsoo spoke through the tears, straining his ears to listen to you better. He recognized Cheongdaebi High—it had been the high school you attended.

"Junyoung's body...please find him this time..." Your hand went to his, weakly gripping on his wrist, as Kyungsoo whispered out his promise to you to uncover Junyoung's body, his tears landing on your body.

Then your hand also went to Taeyong's.

"Remember the note I gave you, Detective Lee..." You turned your head to look at Taeyong next.

"T-The note?" Taeyong choked out, momentarily confused, then finally remembered that day in the café when you suddenly popped up, "Yes! The note! I'll let them know, Y/N. I promise I will."

You smiled, the corner of your lips barely moving, and your eyes began to flutter open and shut rapidly, making the two men panic.

"Fuck—Y/N! Kid! DON'T—"

"Detective Do, we've arrived at the abandoned factory! Where are you and the victim?" A voice from Kyungsoo's walkie talkie cut through his yelling.

Taeyong sprinted to the stairs, yelling from the top of his lungs to grab the paramedics' attention and letting them know they needed to bring the stretcher down with them.

When you were getting wheeled into the bus, Taeyong urged Kyungsoo to accompany you to the hospital, as they watched the paramedic zip up the body bag over Yoonsu's body. The younger detective could see Kyungsoo had an emotional tie to you, so it should ease his mind for a bit if he got to ride with you in the ambulance.

"What about you?" Kyungsoo asked hurriedly.

Taeyong took out a piece of folded up paper from his jacket's inner pocket.

"I need to inform her family."

prev | masterlist | next

A/N : WARRRR ISSSS OVERRRRRR 😫 YOONSU'S FUCKING DEAD BITCHES

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

• taglist • [CLOSED]

@spiderm444rk @morkiee @xiuriii @solvrse @neozon3nha @herebyaccident0 @injunnie-lemon @mystverse @dearmonamour @v-6893 @sehunniepot @bee-the-loser @gomdoleemyson @luluvhs @sunghoonsgfreal @docilismo @neocrashed @soobinbunnie5 @cigarettesafterjae @dudekiss3r @kittydollzz @urlocalbeaner5 @polarisjisung @conwunder @wonupuppy @jae-n0 @413ktz @kimsaerom @meowtella @aerivrs @swanyvess @morkleesgirl @sthwaaberry @nominzn @grassbutneo @spicyryujin @koizekomi @sunflowerhae @markeroolee

[amazinglyashy]

Crow on the Ring

Read on AO3 Pairings: Sylus x Reader, Luke and Kieran & Reader Tags: Gender Neutral Pronouns, Domestic Fluff, Getting your Nails Done Wordcount: 1,116 Summary: Sylus wonders to himself- if there was any point in having henchmen anymore. If they were going to consistently be busy with his partner getting their nails done rather than helping him with... actual henchmen things...?

It was... difficult , to say the least. 

Coming to the realization that one could no longer go out on jobs, flanked by his own henchmen. You know, the ones he had meticulously hired, trained, and paid more than living wages for for their less than savory duties half of the time. Hell, even housing and clothing them since they seemed to need it, even despite how much you paid them.

Yet, here Sylus was. Standing alone on the train platform to go home. By himself. In the wind. Trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. 

Nice.

It wasn't that it annoyed him particularly badly, no. He had done so many things in his life on his own, you wouldn't be able to count them even if you used all of the fingers of the hands of the men he had culled today, mowed down by the very pistol concealed on the inside of his coat, blocking out the chill of the season. Hell, he was even used to sending the twins home early if he didn't think he needed them for cleanup or anything- benefits of Sylus's evol was it usually didn't leave any traces of blood or carnage… that is, as long as he didn't want it to- So, that being said, he was painfully familiar with working alone.

But there was a stark difference between working alone because you were used to it, and working alone because your partner had been wanting to get their nails done for weeks at a trendy salon near the bad side of Linkon, and your own personal henchmen- you know, the ones you trained and paid for- had decided they would go with your partner to… protect them from the possible thugs lurking around nearby, spending their time daring the other to get their nails done too, without so much as a passing question to their boss about whether or not they were allowed to go.

They'd stopped asking a long time ago.

Somehow, Sylus found himself thinking that was a good thing, as he stepped past passengers and crossed the threshold of the train car. He wasn't entirely sure how he came to that conclusion, but as he stood leaning against one of the grab bars, his phone dinged with a text notification, and it showed him the path easily. He pulled it from his pocket, knowing fully well who it could be, the coat on his shoulder unnecessary to stave off the chill of the season anymore. His heart had been sparked enough to do the job on its own.

And somewhere along the line, it had become less about work- less about protocore auctions, deals gone good and deals gone sour, hitlists that spanned far longer than they should have given how much trust and faith Sylus would try and put into people- and that was because of you, only you- and oftentimes gorey scenes that Sylus had more than become accustomed to himself- and more about... You.

About the way you did things so differently from how he did, the fresh perspective perplexing at first, until he had finally fallen in with the routine. But even still, routine was a term used loosely. There was no routine to you. Maybe he could have a set schedule of when you went to cafes or hung out with your friends and coworkers, but that wasn't what he was referring to. No, his mind was drawn to the strange little things you did, to the way you were infectious to everyone you managed to cross without even realizing it- infectious to the ones that mattered. And only to the ones that would ever matter, whether you realized it or not yet- whether you had met them all or not, yet. 

Infectious in the way that he was looking at three matching nail sets in a photo you had sent in the group chat, the emojis of goofy faces popping up from Luke and then Kieran as they added their wordless two cent commentary to the image. The designs were all slightly different from each other, but a similar theme was apparent on each pair of hands. Red, black, and with a crow painted meticulously on each of your ring fingers. The caption underneath read You can see better in person shortly- we're waiting for you at the end of your line! and it made Sylus's heart warm even more than he would ever admit to anyone but you.

He moved to type.

And how do you know which line I'm taking, sweetie? Which platform are you on- the north, or the south?

The three of you had left far before Sylus had left for his job, and he distinctly remembered that not one of you had asked him where he was even going. Not a care in the world, but he guessed that would be your own undoing someday. Particularly, today- He'd been met with silence for a moment, the dot, dot, dot of texts in progress from all three of you went on painfully long, before you finally broke the silence with the shortest text to be sent after such a long period of time.

There's two of you, split up! You had texted back, not to Sylus, but to the twins, and somehow, Sylus found the act amusing enough that a smile twitched at the corners of his mouth. Obviously, the three of you were still next to each other, wherever you had ended up in your search for him. There was no need to send the text when you could speak it out loud. 

But that begged the question of where was the fun in that? Where was the hilarity? If you did things the way they should be done, if any of the three of you did, it would be so much different. It would be so much worse. It wouldn’t be the way that you always handled things- clumsy, chaotic, just a little bit out there with your decisions and actions. Because what of it being harder, or more work, or senseless? It was what made sense to you, and the way you viewed the world was a magic Sylus didn’t know existed prior to meeting you. He wanted to see the way you viewed the world through those beautiful eyes of yours, and he wanted you to show him. He wanted you to show him what it meant to care for the twins and their shenanigans, to cause trouble and find the humor in the smallest things- the little things in life. 

He wanted it all from you. 

Even the weird, chaotic bits.

Sylus truly wouldn't have it, any other way.

[rothpie]

❝FIDELITY❞ |part8

MASTERLIST -`✮´- Rafe Cameron x Kook!Reader x JJ Maybank

Summary: Kook!Reader’s world is upended by betrayal, and her only way forward might lie with the most unlikely person—JJ Maybank. But as they build a new life together, old flames and past mistakes refuse to stay buried.

Warnings: slut shaming(?)

previous - next

Could you really call yourself an adult now?

I mean, honestly, is there some magical age that makes you a certified grown-up?

If it’s all about age, then nope—you weren’t an adult. Maybe a “young adult” at best, but even then, the life you were living? Let’s just say it was… a bit different.

When everything started happening so quickly, keeping up felt impossible. And let’s face it, that was normal. If you managed to juggle everything with calm composure, you’d probably qualify as Wonder Woman. Life came with its ups and downs, but throw pregnancy symptoms into the mix, and things got extra tricky.

You liked to share what you wanted with others. Talking about your plans openly was just how you were. It wasn’t about bragging; you just enjoyed sharing your happiness. But every single time—without fail—whatever you talked about? It never happened.

That Venice trip you’d been set on for the summer? Canceled.

The dream university? Rejected. That car you were this close to buying? Nope, didn’t happen.

It was like clockwork. Every time.

And the thing was, you never learned. Not really. You’d repeat the same mistake again and again. Life’s law, right? Someday you’d figure it out… though that day clearly wasn’t anytime soon.

Pregnancy, though, wasn’t exactly something you could go shouting about to everyone. That was off the table. But moving?

If you weren’t pregnant, there’s no way you’d have kept quiet. You’d have made sure the entire island knew. And naturally, that would’ve meant it wouldn’t happen.

This time, though, you zipped it. The only person who knew was JJ—and, well, he didn’t really count. Or, okay, maybe he did. Of course, he was important, but not the kind of person to stand in your way. On the contrary, he had your back. He even offered to help you with the whole moving process.

Things happened so fast, you could hardly believe it.

Your dad came home from his work trip, you visited the mainland, met with a realtor friend of his, checked out potential homes—it was like someone had hit the fast-forward button.

You couldn’t decide on anything. You were even okay with a cute little apartment. The list of occupants was simple: you and your daughter. You didn’t need much more.

Your mom, however, had her opinions. She didn’t want a mansion either, but she was firm about the house having enough rooms. One for you, one for your daughter, and a guest room—because naturally, grandma duties. And a yard, because she wanted to watch her grandchild play outside.

So apartments were out. Houses it was. After seeing what felt like a million empty ones, you were ready to scream.

But finally, you found it. The perfect house. The yard alone sold it. You could already picture the memories you’d make there with your daughter. Maybe a swing or a hammock… some comfy furniture on the porch.

You never imagined you’d get so close to your dream so quickly.

It had the three rooms your mom insisted on, was two stories, and honestly, it was beautiful. You loved it. But the idea of living there alone was terrifying.

Still, the deal was sealed.

It didn’t take long—two weeks, tops. When your mom insisted on hiring an interior designer, you didn’t argue much. Secretly, you liked the idea. And once your belongings were packed, it was all done.

All that was left was you.

There weren’t many people to say goodbye to on the island, which was, honestly, fine. Who were you supposed to bid farewell to? Rafe? His family, who didn’t even know you were pregnant? Your friends, who’d probably broadcast the news to the world? No thanks.

Except for JJ.

You’d have been a total ass not to acknowledge his help. Even if his support wasn’t entirely physical, his presence had been a huge emotional lift.

So saying goodbye wasn’t hard.

Ignoring the support he’d given you would’ve been dumb. When you decided to give him a nice surfboard as a thank-you gift, you didn’t overthink it. You just thought about who JJ was—someone who loved the ocean and surfing. Beyond that? You didn’t know much. So you kept it simple. Spoiler alert: he liked it.

You hesitated, thinking a gift might make things unnecessarily sentimental, but he deserved it. Nobody else in his position would’ve treated you as kindly. Even Kooks barely treated each other well. Expecting a Pogue to go out of their way for you? Yeah, no.

But JJ had.

You weren’t super close, but during one of your conversations, he’d mentioned how much he liked the rare nights when his shift ended early. He worked at a pub. In your head, you’d given him two weeks before he got fired—or kicked out after starting a fight. You were that sure of it.

A week ago, knowing the end of his evening shift, you parked near the pub, sitting on your car hood to wait for him. The plan? Give him the surfboard. Maybe even give him a ride home if he needed one.

Fifteen minutes passed. He hadn’t come out.

You started questioning everything—maybe you’d gotten the wrong day? Or maybe you’d messed up the time?

Waiting around for nothing felt miserable. You should’ve paid better attention when he’d been talking about his schedule.

Not that the gift had been planned or anything. The idea had hit you on a whim. You just wanted to do something before you left. After all, there weren’t many people to say goodbye to. And texting JJ a quick see ya felt way too impersonal.

“What are you doing here?”

You snapped out of your thoughts, your eyes shooting up from your phone. JJ stood a few steps away, mid-turn before he stopped and faced you fully. His eyes scanned the car before landing on you.

Quickly, you shoved your phone into your pocket. “Making sure you didn’t pick another fight.” Sliding off the hood, you smirked.

JJ rolled his eyes, flashing you a sarcastic smile. “Ha-ha. How funny.”

Unlike him, your grin was genuine. Why should he have all the fun pissing people off? It was your turn.

Unlike him, your lips curled into a genuine smile. Was it always going to be him getting under your skin for his own amusement? No, this time, it was your turn.

You heard him say your name, his tone serious. “No, really. What are you doing here?”

Keeping surprises wasn’t exactly your specialty, but you couldn’t resist messing with him a little. After all, this was the first time in days you’d left the house—and only in your baggiest clothes. Might as well enjoy it.

“Just hanging out.”

He frowned, his eyes scanning the area before gesturing around. “Here? Outside the pub?”

The confusion on his face was nearly comical—borderline annoyed, maybe?

You mirrored his glance at the surroundings, raising your eyebrows. It wasn’t much to look at. Just… a place. “What’s wrong with here?”

JJ let out a frustrated sigh, and for a moment, you couldn’t believe you’d actually managed to annoy him. He genuinely looked upset. “Are you serious right now? You—” He stopped himself, clenching his jaw as he stepped closer. Lowering his voice, he added, “You can’t drink. You’re not even supposed to be hanging around.”

So, he thought you’d come here to drink? That’s why he was so worked up?

It was kind of… cute. But poking the bear was way more fun.

You let out a dramatic hum as you crossed your arms. “Not allowed? Says who?” You tried not to laugh at the look he shot you, a mix of exasperation and disbelief, like you’d lost your mind.

“Me. You’re not drinking. Not here, not anywhere. Have you lost it?”

Your lips pulled into a grin, and despite his attempt to scold you, his irritation only made it funnier. Especially since you hadn’t even done what he was accusing you of.

The second JJ caught onto what you were doing, his annoyed expression melted away. As your laughter echoed, he pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly unimpressed. “Yeah, yeah. Hilarious. Now, can you just tell me what you’re actually doing here?”

You clutched your stomach, your laughter dying down into a lingering smile. Sure, he wasn’t amused, but you were, and that’s all that mattered.

“I’ve got something for you.”

JJ’s eyebrows shot up. He straightened, intrigued. “Yeah?”

You stepped away from the car’s front, glancing back to see him still rooted in place. You gave him a quick head nod to follow. With a sigh, he finally moved. “If this is a gun for self-defense, just so you know, I’m not really clear on the rules here,” he joked with a wink.

You snorted, shaking your head. “Please. If I gave you a gun, you’d be arrested in, like, two seconds.”

He laughed, but you could tell he was curious now. Opening the back door, you reached inside. “It’s a thank-you gift. Kind of.”The surprise on his face was priceless. He clearly wasn’t expecting this. Honestly, neither were you until the idea struck.

JJ tilted his head, his expression skeptical. “Thank you? For what? For telling you not to pick fights?”

You rolled your eyes. He couldn’t be serious. “No, JJ. For helping me out.”

He smiled, but it was that classic, goofy grin of his. Any trace of his earlier irritation had completely vanished. He didn’t even glance into the car. “Oh, I get it. Like a ‘without JJ, my life would’ve fallen apart’ kind of thank you? Go on, feed my ego. I live for this.”

For a split second, you considered slamming the door and driving off. Instead, you laughed. Sure, there was some truth to what he said, but no way were you letting him win.

Taking a deep breath, you opened the door wider and stepped back. “Nope. It’s just a small gesture. Don’t read too much into it.”

JJ walked over and held the door open, his eyes going wide when he spotted the surfboard wedged into the backseat. His fingers ran over the smooth edges and the blue-and-white design. “You got this for me?” he asked, his voice softer now as he inspected it.

You couldn’t suppress your grin. “Yeah. I mean, I know it’s kind of random, but I figured you could use your own board for a change. For everything you’ve done—” You hesitated, trying to find the right words. “It meant a lot.”

JJ’s smile was different this time. It wasn’t cocky or teasing. It was genuine. “If I don’t take this, I feel like you’d be really annoying about it,” he muttered, pulling the board from the car.

“Absolutely. You wouldn’t want to hear me talk about how I poured my heart into its design,” you teased.

He froze, eyes narrowing. “Wait—you designed it?”

You smirked, holding his gaze. “No. But it’s nice that you believed it for a second.”

JJ laughed, shaking his head as he leaned the board against the car. For once, he wasn’t mocking or making jokes. Instead, he looked at you with something softer, something you couldn’t quite place. “This is… perfect. You didn’t have to do this.”

“I know. I just wanted to.”

He hesitated, glancing at the board before meeting your eyes again. “I was just trying to help. I didn’t think it was that big of a deal.”

And that was it, wasn’t it? That’s how it felt. Deep down, you’d even envied the way he was with his friends. He didn’t know you. In fact, he hated your group. But if he treated you like this—who knew how he treated his friends?

You weren’t used to people doing things for you without expecting something in return. Sure, you had a hunch JJ liked money. Not just you—everyone on the island knew that. But still, the way he talked to you, made time for you… it mattered. It broke the prejudice you had against him.

It wasn’t anything grand. He didn’t buy you houses or cars. He didn’t shower you with jewelry. But he talked to you like no one else did. He made you feel—like you were someone. Like someone whose decisions shouldn’t be dictated by anyone else’s words.

And that? That was worth more than jewelry. More than anything money could buy. It was something most people—Rafe included—didn’t have.

From the moment he heard, he didn’t tell anyone. What friend would do that? Ruthie? Sophie? Who?

JJ did.

And he wasn’t even your friend.

That’s why it mattered. He was just being himself, and you needed that.

“It felt like that.” JJ was holding the surfboard, his eyes catching yours. A strange silence fell between you. Neither of you had expected such a gesture—not just surfing, but the support he’d given you.

You hadn’t expected his support; that was his gesture to you. And he hadn’t expected a surfboard from you; that was your gesture to him.

JJ lifted the board to examine it, the usual smirk still on his face. He was clearly trying to ease the tension hanging between you. “So, I have my own board now, huh? I don’t have to give this one back, do I? Because when it comes to stuff like that, you’re pretty stubborn.”

“No, it’s yours,” you said, smiling. You were grateful for his teasing—it cut through the awkwardness. You could’ve stayed silent for hours. “But if I catch you getting into another fight, I’ll beat you with that board.”

JJ laughed, shaking his head. His gaze flicked between the board and you. He was ridiculously excited about the surfboard but trying hard not to show it. “Fair deal. But just so we’re clear, every cool move I pull off with this board? I’m crediting you. ‘Thanks to Princess for this wave,’ that kind of thing. You’re my sponsor now.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t deny his antics made you laugh. He was fun to be around. You were glad the whole “status” nonsense between you two seemed to be fading. It wasn’t just you—he had his own assumptions about you too. But it felt like you’d both moved past that. “Okay. Sponsorship’s over. Go find your wave.”

JJ carefully propped the board against the wall, his expression softening. “Jokes aside, thanks. I mean it. This means a lot. Just don’t tell anyone I said that—gotta protect my image.” He smiled, dimples showing as he ran a hand through his hair.

You smiled back, nodding quickly. “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe.”

As you both grinned, JJ’s eyes flicked from you to the surfboard. Following his gaze, your eyes drifted to his hands, gently tracing the board like it was fragile.

“I’m leaving the island tomorrow.” The words tumbled out, and you saw his hands freeze. His gaze landed on you, but you kept your focus on the board, pretending to admire its design. It really was a beautiful surfboard. “So—I wanted to say thank you.”

His blue eyes pierced through you as if that was even possible. JJ didn’t say anything to make the moment heavier, just nodded. For several seconds, neither of you spoke. Realizing the air had gotten heavier, you shifted your tone to something more casual. “I could drive you home if you want.”

You weren’t the kind of person to offer, but making him carry a surfboard all the way home felt cruel.

JJ opened his mouth to respond, but a car horn blared from down the street. Both of you turned toward the sound. Outside the car, John B and Kiara were leaning against it, with Pope, Cleo, and Sarah visible through the windows. Pope waved at JJ from where he hung halfway out of the window.

When Sarah’s eyes met yours, you instinctively tugged at your shirt. There wasn’t anything visible, but still—you felt uneasy. “Wow,” you said, feigning amusement. “Your entourage is here.”

JJ hesitated, looking momentarily torn. Finally, he sighed, a guilty smile creeping onto his face. His gaze dropped to your hand still fidgeting with your shirt. For a split second, it seemed like he wanted to grab your hand, to stop you.

“Nothing’s showing,” he said, his eyes lingering on your waist. You knew that, but the idea of anyone finding out still terrified you. Especially someone from Rafe’s family. He didn’t want them to know, and neither did you. That’s why you felt the need to be extra cautious around Sarah and Wheezie.

“I know. It’s just—” You stopped, shutting your eyes briefly before opening them again. It was paranoia, but understandable. “Relax. No one knows, I swear.” His hand almost reached out to your arm, but he stopped, remembering his friends were watching from the car.

“Go,” you said, shrugging. You composed yourself. “Looks like you’ve got a ride after all.” You smiled.

JJ paused for a beat, then flashed a crooked smile. He hated the awkwardness lingering between you. “If this board isn’t as good as you said, you’re getting an earful. I’ll call you.” He walked backward, teasing. You couldn’t help but chuckle at his words.

As you walked toward your front door, you noticed his movements slow. He stopped, turned, and looked back at you. It was like he’d remembered something he’d forgotten to do. Placing the surfboard down gently, his eyes briefly darted away from yours.

Then he walked up to you and stopped right in front of you. After a brief, silent pause, you felt his arms wrap around you. Was he… hugging you? Seriously? The gesture caught both of you off guard. You’d never imagined this kind of closeness. But then again, you hadn’t imagined buying him a surfboard either. So, it didn’t feel wrong. If buying him a gift made you feel this close, then it wasn’t strange that he’d feel close enough to hug you.

You returned the gesture, wrapping your arms around him. His grip was firm, and the scent of salt and ocean filled your senses. How did he always smell so much like the sea?

The hug was short, but both of you felt the strangeness of it. Once again—you felt like you’d crossed a line. Broken some unspoken rule.

JJ shrugged as he pulled back. “Yeah, that’s it. See you, uh… whatever.”

You took a deep breath, watching him stand there. You hated goodbyes. You were going to miss this island, and now—

“Yeah… goodbye.” You pushed your hair behind your shoulders, trying to steady your voice. You didn’t understand why you felt like you were losing a friend. Like you were going to… miss him?

Stop. Don’t even think about it.

JJ nodded, picking up the surfboard as he walked toward the car. You watched him for a moment before turning to the front door and stepping into your car. Through the windshield, you caught a glimpse of Kiara muttering something to Sarah. Whatever she was saying, you couldn’t hear.

When JJ got into the car, he paused, lowering his head for a brief moment before looking outside again.

He mouthed something to the group. Not to you, but to the friends in the car. “Just shut up.”

When he gave you a quick nod, you returned it before starting your car. Watching them drive off, you felt a strange mix of relief and melancholy. You’d thanked JJ, and that was all you wanted. It was done.

Except for the quiet ache of losing a friend.

You’d left only a few clothes back at the house on the island. The furniture and everything else stayed in your room. Your parents insisted the room remain untouched—they wanted you to know there was still a home for you there. They even promised not to change a thing.

The first few months were bound to be hard; you knew that. Living alone was going to take some getting used to. But you hoped it’d all be worth it when you finally held your baby.

Now, you were sitting on the couch in your new place, sipping a green smoothie. You’d have given anything for a coffee, but pregnancy meant sacrifices. A little caffeine might not hurt, but you didn’t want to risk it. The smoothie was healthy, though it tasted awful.

It had only been six days since the move. You’d allowed yourself time to explore the area, taking walks around the quiet streets. Your parents had offered to stay with you for a few days, but you politely declined. You wanted to settle in on your own. Leaning on their warmth and presence only to have it ripped away later would have made the loneliness worse. You couldn’t let that happen.

Morning sickness had eased enough for a few walks, so you’d wandered the calm streets near your house. Quiet, orderly, nothing like Outer Banks. You couldn’t help but compare the two. Everything here was different. The people, the lifestyle—it all felt so structured and tame. But a part of you missed the chaos of the island. The freedom. The absurdity of going to the store in a bikini without anyone batting an eye. That tight-knit community where everyone knew each other’s names.

You’d visited the local park a few times. It was rarely crowded, and you hadn’t met anyone yet. By the time you arrived, most of the adults and kids were just beginning to trickle in.

So, here you were: your own place. Did that make you an adult?

How did adults even make friends? Scratch that—how did anyone past a certain age make friends? As a kid, it was easy. Just ask someone to play with you, and that was it. Middle school? Same thing.

But now? You didn’t know a soul here. What were you supposed to do? Walk up to someone and introduce yourself?

Terrifying thought.

Still, maybe worth trying, right?

-

Socializing wasn’t supposed to feel like this.

Your eyes scanned the park’s scenery. The leaves rustled gently in the breeze, and birds chirped in the branches above. A group of kids played in a sandbox, their laughter mingling with the faint sounds of distant traffic.

You clasped your hands over your stomach, exhaling deeply. “Maybe this is good for me,” you thought.

But the whole idea still felt horrifying. Sitting at home would’ve been worse, though. At least you were out, breathing fresh air.

Introducing yourself to someone, though? Out of the question. No anxiety attacks, but your chest tightened just thinking about it. No, you’d just sit and enjoy the park for a bit. That would be enough.

Your gaze dropped to the book in your lap: Healthy Nutrition and Development During Pregnancy. You fiddled with the corner of its cover. Would someone else find this funny? Carrying a guidebook instead of a novel wasn’t something even you would’ve expected a few months ago. But here you were, on the verge of a whole new chapter. Screw what anyone thought—you were preparing for your future.

Suddenly, the bench shifted slightly as someone sat down beside you. The movement snapped you out of your thoughts. You glanced up to find a middle-aged woman with an energetic demeanor. Her dyed-blond hair revealed a hint of gray at the roots, and a steaming coffee cup rested in her hands.

“Ugh, I hope I can finish this before it goes cold,” she muttered to herself before calling out to the playground. “Tati! No running, sweetheart!”

She waved toward the child before turning back to you with a wide smile.

“Lovely day, isn’t it?” she chirped.

You gave her a polite smile, nodding. “It is,” you replied, subtly shifting your book closer to your lap. Her eyes flicked to the book in your hands, narrowing slightly as if trying to make out the title. “Is that a… guidebook?” she finally asked.

You tilted your head slightly. “Yes,” you said simply, hoping that’d be enough to end the conversation.

“A pregnancy guide?” she pressed, her curiosity accompanied by a cheerful smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “How sweet! Helping out a sister or expecting a niece?—Oh, where are my manners? I’m Viola.”

Her question caught you off guard. You hesitated briefly before giving your name. “Uh, no. It’s for me,” you said with a small smile.

Her expression shifted instantly. Her eyes widened, her grin turning stiff and awkward. “For you? Oh…”

You nodded, feeling heat creep up your cheeks. She had seemed friendly at first, but the subtle judgment on her face now was impossible to ignore.

“How far along?” she asked, as if the question was perfectly natural.

“Sixteen weeks,” you mumbled, pretending to smooth the book’s pages. The weight of her gaze made your skin crawl.

“Ah, so young,” she murmured, taking a long sip from her coffee. When she lowered the cup, her eyes lingered on you, as though dissecting every detail. “How old are you, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Twenty,” you replied, keeping your tone neutral but feeling the words land heavier than you intended. You watched her eyebrows knit together as she took a sharp breath.

“Twenty? You look barely old enough to drive!” she exclaimed, clearly not trying to be subtle. Then, almost conspiratorially, “But… you must be married, right?”

Your hands instinctively moved to rest on your stomach, but you hesitated to respond. The silence must have been answer enough because her eyes flicked from your belly back to your face.

“Oh,” she said knowingly, her smile tightening further. “So… is the father still in the picture?”

What was this, an interrogation?

You swallowed the lump forming in your throat. Was it the tone of her voice? Or the audacity of her questions? Whatever it was, it stung. “That’s not something I need to discuss with you,” you said firmly, fighting to keep the frustration out of your voice.

Viola shrugged, but her scrutinizing look didn’t waver. “Fair enough. But raising a baby at your age, and without… well, you know. It’s going to be tough. Don’t you think this was a bit… impulsive?”

Her words hit like a cold wind. You tightened your grip on your stomach and tilted your head slightly. “That’s none of your business,” you said, your voice harder now.

Viola didn’t back down. “Yes, maybe you’re right. But people talk, sweetheart. And usually, they judge the ones they think made the wrong decisions…” She paused, pursing her lips. “Well, they judge.”

That was all you needed to hear. You tucked your book under your arm like you were putting it in a bag, got up, and said, “I think it’s time for me to leave,” your tone colder than even you expected.

Viola raised a hand as if trying to smooth things over. “Oh, I didn’t mean to offend,” she said, but the look in her eyes betrayed the opposite. “I’m just saying this for your own good.”

You could shove your “thoughts” up your ass.

Turning on your heel, you walked toward the park’s exit. The sound of her coffee cup being placed on the bench and her murmuring words echoed behind you. A fresh start sounded nice, you thought. But a new beginning wasn’t a guarantee of escaping old judgments.

There was no way you were going out to socialize again anytime soon. You hated that woman. With every fiber of your being. The way she judged you with that smug little brain of hers—it made your blood boil. You had no memory of how you even made it back home.

You made yourself some hot cocoa, hoping it would calm your nerves. Honestly, lying flat in the grass wouldn’t have been enough to shake off the anger at this point.

Even though you tried to distract yourself—knowing full well that stress wasn’t good for the baby—it wasn’t working. The incident replayed in your mind on a loop. You were certain you’d shiver every time you walked past that park again.

Who did she think she was, anyway? How could someone pass judgment on a stranger like that? The sheer audacity—it was baffling.

The sound of your phone notification pulled you out of your spiraling thoughts. Glancing over, you reached for the phone resting on the couch.

You waited for a reply, but when nothing came, you set the phone down again. At least one of you was having a good day. Even though you felt like you were on the verge of exploding, you took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself.

The sudden ring of your phone startled you. You looked over, eyes narrowing slightly in surprise. JJ Maybank was calling you. Right now.

Pressing the phone to your ear, you grabbed the half-full cocoa mug from the table with your other hand. You weren’t going to drink it anymore. You were too annoyed to even think about washing it, but you figured you could at least move it somewhere out of sight. JJ’s voice came through the speaker, and despite everything, a small smile crept onto your face. For all his antics, he was a decent guy.

Heading toward the kitchen, you heard the cheerfulness in his voice as he began, “Used it this morning.” He was talking about the surfboard, excitement practically dripping from his words.

Frowning slightly, you placed the mug on the counter. This morning? Shouldn’t he have been at work? “This morning? Weren’t you supposed to be at work?”

There was a brief pause before JJ let out a muffled laugh. “Got fired,” he said casually, like it was the most normal thing in the world. Honestly, with him, it kind of was. You couldn’t help but laugh a little.

You weren’t surprised—of course, you weren’t. With the phone still pressed to your ear, you wandered over to the window and glanced outside. “Figured,” you said, your voice laced with playful sarcasm.

JJ didn’t miss a beat, his tone now teasingly accusatory. “Wait a second. Did you bet on me?”

Smiling, you shook your head even though he couldn’t see it, your attention momentarily caught by a cat wandering down the street. JJ cleared his throat, bringing you back. “No, but I wish I had,” you said.

His response came in the form of a dramatic groan. “That’s the meanest thing I’ve heard all week. You’re better than this.”

You turned around and walked toward the kitchen, your tone a little sharper now. “Get used to it.”

JJ responded immediately, his voice carrying a hint of challenge. “Never,” he shot back. Then, after a brief pause, his tone softened, but he added a teasing edge. “Pregnancy hormones have turned you into a completely different person. And it’s only been six days.”

The way he always knew how to push your buttons—and somehow make you smile instead of snap—was maddening. You found yourself tapping the corner of the table with your fingers, a habit you didn’t even notice until it happened. “I take pride in that,” you said, a playful grin tugging at your lips.

JJ came back stronger, more confident this time. “Hey, do you think it’s the hormones, or is it because you haven’t seen my handsome face for six whole days?” There was that familiar cocky tone, but you could tell he was trying to make you laugh. “I’d bet everything it’s because you haven’t seen my handsome face.”

“Even your surfboard?” you teased, your voice lifting just enough to show you were fully invested in the banter now. You moved toward the living room and dropped onto the couch, your gaze briefly flitting to the TV. But your attention was fully locked on JJ.

“Not a chance,” he replied instantly, almost defensive. “The board’s off-limits. Too precious.”

You chuckled, grabbing the nearby blanket and pulling it over your lap. “Then you’ve lost everything except the surfboard,” you said, shaking your head in mock disapproval. JJ’s laugh echoed through the phone, rich and warm, before he quipped, “You’ve been extra rude lately,” his voice carrying a mix of mock hurt and teasing amusement.

You didn’t just roll your eyes—you sank deeper into the couch, grabbing a pillow to prop yourself up. Of course, he’d called just to mess with you. Was he bored? Had he decided you were the best target for entertainment? “I’ve always been like this,” you replied with a shrug he couldn’t see.

“Nope,” JJ shot back instantly, his tone softer but still certain. A brief silence followed, filled only by the sound of your own breathing, before he spoke again. This time, his voice was a little more sincere. “So… how’s it going? Living alone and all?”

You didn’t hate that he asked. Actually, it felt nice to talk to someone. As an adult—or whatever weird in-between phase you were in—socializing wasn’t exactly easy. It hadn’t been easy on the island either, but at least that had been your choice. This wasn’t.

You took a deep breath, realizing the question was harder to answer than you’d expected. “It sucks,” you admitted finally, the honesty not surprising you in the slightest.

“Why?” JJ’s voice was softer now, laced with just enough concern to feel genuine but not suffocating. It was like he always knew how to navigate these moments without overstepping. And honestly, it was strange—good strange.

You tried to sort through the chaos in your head. “I don’t know,” you said with a faint sigh. “I haven’t really connected with anyone. I don’t know anyone here.”

JJ, ever the problem-solver in his own weird way, jumped in with his trademark ease. “Then make friends with the stray cats,” he said, that classic carefree tone of his bringing a smile to your face despite everything.

“I already have you,” you teased back, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “I couldn’t possibly betray you.”

His laugh from the other end of the line was contagious. “Not funny.” 

Fidgeting with the edge of the blanket, you hesitated before mumbling, “Are you okay? How are you?” Somehow, over the phone, it felt easier to ask—less intimidating than it would’ve been face-to-face.

“I’m amazing,” JJ said, his voice taking on a flat, almost robotic tone that screamed deflection.

“Your ego is exhausting,” you retorted, matching his sarcasm. Why couldn’t he just answer the question for once? Did everything have to be a game? “Seriously. How are you? After… you know, that day.”

JJ exhaled deeply, and when he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, almost reluctant. “I don’t live with my dad anymore.”

You sat up straighter, grabbing the remote to lower the TV’s volume. “Wait, really?”

“Yeah,” he said simply, like it wasn’t a big deal. “Packed up my stuff and left.”

It wasn’t exactly shocking. In fact, you were relieved he’d done it. Knowing he’d been living with someone who hurt him was unbearable. But still, you couldn’t stop your brow from furrowing. You couldn’t shake the worry. “Are you staying with John B?”

JJ’s silence was unexpected. You listened to the sound of his breathing, the faintest hitch before he finally answered. “Kind of?”

“What does that mean?” Your voice sharpened with concern. Why was he dancing around the answer when he could just tell you?

JJ sighed again, his tone shifting as though he’d stepped further away from the phone. “They don’t know I left yet. And I don’t want to talk about it.”

He hadn’t told his closest friends? Why? They weren’t the type to judge him. You didn’t know them well, but you were sure of that much. It didn’t make sense.

Even as your worry grew, you knew pressing him wasn’t the right move. “So where are you staying?” you asked cautiously.

JJ’s tone hardened. “I said I don’t want to talk about it.” There it was—his three-year-old tantrum mode. Did he really think people didn’t have the right to worry about him? Idiot.

You pinched the bridge of your nose, already feeling your patience wearing thin. “As your friend, I’m allowed to be concerned about your safety, JJ. Just tell me where you’re staying.”

His tone shifted again, this time lighter, more teasing. “Friend, huh? That’s nice. Kook and Pogue forever.”

“Shut it,” you snapped, your irritation clear. All you wanted was to know he was safe. “Just tell me already.”

JJ paused, then let out a soft laugh—the kind you knew was covering up something deeper. Even a toddler could tell. “I stayed with them for a few days. Been figuring it out since.”

You frowned. That wasn’t a solution. “You need to tell them,” you said gently.

He responded with the same stubbornness you’d come to expect, but his tone hinted at a smirk. “This is my problem, princess.” Then, as if to shift the mood, he added, “This is the first time we’ve talked on the phone. Cute, right? Now, tell me about your day.”

Despite the worry gnawing at you, you relaxed just a little. He wouldn’t be joking around like this if things were terrible… right?

You hoped so cause—JJ is your friend.

[cattordi]

1. the new neighbor 🥥

a/n 𓇼 hey lovies

summary 𓇼 after returning to the obx, you rent the cameron’s guest house; forcing you into close proximity with your ex boyfriend— rafe.

pairings 𓇼 pogue!reader x exbf!rafecameron

warnings 𓇼 this is only the first part so just angst, not proofread, mentions of drugs

˚⋆𓇼˚⊹ 𖦹 ⁺｡° ˚⋆𓇼˚⊹ 𖦹 ⁺｡° ˚⋆𓇼˚⊹ 𖦹

“my dad said our guest house is ready for you when you get here.” sarah emphasized on the phone call you were on.

“okay. thank you so much sarah.” you say into the phone. both you and sarah bid your goodbyes and hangup. grabbing your suitcase, and other bags, you open the door of the uber you ordered, leave the airport and head to: the outer banks.

outer banks was your home…. until you moved to new york in hopes of living a less divided life. during your time living in the obx, your parents both passed, you spent your time with pogues, but ultimately was in love with and dated a kook— rafe.

he was another reason you left. during the 2 years you two dated, it was all perfect.. until he got into drugs.

you never understood the toll drugs could have on someone until rafe started getting violent, his emotions were all over the place, he became impulsive, and relied on coke to make him happy.

so you packed your things and left with no note behind or anything. rafe did reach out sarah didn’t talk to you for awhile but eventually she understood your reasoning.

after an hour of driving, you’re finally driving though figure 8. big houses come into view along with boats. another 15 minutes go by and you’re pulling into the entrance of taneyhill.

you grab your phone and text sarah “i’m outside” before collecting your bags, thanking the driver, and walking towards the door.

sarah and rose greet you at the front door. both engulfing you in hugs. “jesus y/n i’ve missed you so much. you don’t understand” sarah says.

“i’ve missed you guys too. where’s wheezie?” you ask

both of their faces go staid before rose says, “she’s with rafe actually. they went out in the boat.”

you smile softly, a bit hurt at the sound of his name, “well that sounds nice. i hope they’re having fun”

silence falls within the three of you before ross breaks in saying, “let’s get you into your house, kay?”

you smile again, sarah grabs your things, and you head towards the adjoining guest house.

𓇼

the rest of your night goes by smoothly, no rafe encounters and you quickly remembered how much you enjoyed outer banks.

the next morning you wake up and do your everyday morning routine, with plans of going on your morning run. you throw your hair in a pony tail, pull on running shorts, an oversized t-shirt, and running shoes before leaving the guest house and walking over to the cameron’s house.

as quietly as you can, you fill your water bottle with ice and water until—

“what’re you doing?” a deep voice says from behind you, almost making you drop your bottle. you turn and see rafe. his family is illuminated by the sun seeping through the blinds. his blue eyes watch you. he’s wearing grey sweatpants and no shirt.

“i’m filling my water bottle rafe.”

“no what are you doing? here?”

“i decided to come back home” you begin while closing your bottle, “i missed it here.”

“you’re so full of shit.”

your eyebrows scrunch as you roughly—slam the bottle on the counter. “what’s that supposed to mean rafe?”

“you just left and now you just back. bull-fucking-shit. get someone else to believe your manipulative ass, because it won’t be me.”

“luckily,” you start and begin to walk towards the door, leading back out, “i don’t need your approval.”

you hear him follow you, “you need to leave y/n. you left before so it shouldn’t be hard now.”

that one hit you straight in the heart because you quickly turn around and say, “really rafe? i left? you mentally fucking left our relationship way before i did. but if blaming me makes you fucking feel better so be it. but until i can get a place of my own, we just need to agree to stay out of each others way.”

“y’know what? whatever.” rafe curses and rolls his eyes. he goes to turn leave but stops, “also, nice shirt y/n”

with that he leaves and slams the door behind him, leaving you confused until you look down to see you’re wearing his shirt.