#i think this is real i think he turned her down

[msunitedstatesjames]

I've touched on this in a couple of other semi-related posts before, but I find it hilarious and I appreciate how much Johanna Hezenkoss thinks Emmrich is the protagonist of Veilguard. Like, this woman could not give less of a fuck about Rook. She almost always refers to Rook only by their relationship to Emmrich. She refers to Rook as "one of Volkarin's hangers-on," "that impudent whelp following [Emmrich] around," "Volkarin's companion," and as Emmrich's "paramour." None of these imply that she thinks Rook has much agency. Instead, she acts like Rook is just helplessly following Emmrich around like a puppy, helping him complete tasks (which I guess is partly true).

If Rook romances Emmrich, Hezenkoss assumes that Emmrich seduced Rook and not the other way around, even though Emmrich is noticeably older than Rook and has hardly left the Necropolis in years. She's seemingly amazed by it, and yet it never once crosses her mind that Rook might have initiated the relationship (which is actually the case).

She also refers to Emmrich as the one who destroyed her construct, which is technically true, but she ignores the major assistance he had from Rook, another companion, and most notably Manfred. He couldn't have pulled it off without their help, and had in fact given up, but Hezenkoss acts like Emmrich was her sole opponent in that battle.

I've said before that part of the reason for this is that Hezenkoss seems to think of herself as the main villain of the story, so Emmrich must be the main hero. Hezenkoss says that some of the other big bads of Dragon Age, the Venatori, were nothing more to her than slightly useful and genuinely annoying. She clearly thinks herself above an entire organization of some of the most powerful mages in the world. And she sees Emmrich as pretty close to her in terms of raw power, since she almost invited him to her Vengeance Party but ultimately decided he was too much of a danger to her plans. She also states that she tried to get him to join her in the past, which I don't think she would do for anyone she considered to be less than her equal. Emmrich is genuinely the only person in the game she shows any respect for. Though she mocks his age and finds him to be too sentimental, too moral, and too fearful, she shows signs of agreeing with him on some topics, and she obviously respects his abilities if nothing else. No one else in the game acknowledges his frankly ridiculous knowledge and skill level (except Solas in the end) as much as Hezenkoss does.

And really, Emmrich does have main character energy. Though he does have some age and mortality related fears, dude is overflowing with confidence. When you first meet him, looking for a Fade expert, he has absolutely no problem telling you he's the best possible person for the job. Though he apparently hasn't left the Necropolis in years, he's totally down to join the team and go anywhere you want him to go. If you romance him, he is initially surprised, but he quickly turns into the smoothest dude around, and throughout the game you can hear him comment on some of his many relationships through the years. He's well-dressed, well-spoken, charismatic, highly educated, unfailingly kind, extremely powerful, and he's done so well for himself that Harding mistakes the son of a butcher and a cook for a member of the Nevarran nobility. No wonder Hezenkoss thinks he's the protagonist. The real protagonist is just out here winging it on guts and good luck alone.

[hamletthedane]

I know I’m joking about how Wicked Part 2 is going to be insane compared to Part 1, but it actually is so interesting when viewed as separate second part of the story -

Because hear me out - imo, the end of Act 1 sets up where the lines in the sand are for the three key characters:

Elphaba chooses to follow her morals and reject the system, even to her own isolation and destruction. Her line is her dedication to “making good.”

Glinda, her foil, openly admits that she cannot turn down the allure of the system’s power and stability, even at the sacrifice of her morals and her closest friendship. Her line is her power and popularity.

Fiyero, further foiling Glinda, is the person who would have blindly said yes to Elphaba’s offer. He is completely, unquestioningly devoted to Elphaba - even to a fault - believing that she will always be good and choose the right thing (as she “doesn’t care what others think”).* His line is his unwavering loyalty to Elphaba.

*admittedly, this is less evident at the end of Act 1, but it’s made VERY clear within the first 5min of Act 2 so I’m counting it as an Act 1 arc

But then Act 2 forces them to respect the line they’ve decided to draw in increasingly devastating ways, and eventually forces them to violate their lines or have the lines destroy them:

Elphaba’s sacrifices turn her into a complete pariah, forcing her to lose everything she had and worked for in an instant. She fights every day for what she believes in, even though she sees it’s fruitless and only leading to the destruction of everything she loves. But Elphaba stands strong even against the Wizard’s temptation of leaving behind her failing cause. However, she’s finally pushed over her edge when one of the two people who still believed in her “goodness” dies for that belief. And it drives her to throw away every good intention and dive head-first into a pursuit of power and control. She must ultimately be influenced by Glinda to once again choose self-sacrifice for the greater good, giving up her power and dreams of normality in Oz. “Now it’s up to you, for both of us”

Glinda builds great political capital and becomes one of the most important, beloved characters in the nation. But nothing is real: she’s engaged to a man who clearly doesn’t love her, she’s openly decrying a woman who she clearly still loves herself, and the system she operates in troubles her even as she benefits from it. Elphaba again tempts her to leave, and Fiyero’s clear willingness to jump ship should be an even greater temptation, but she can’t leave it behind. Not until the very end of the story does she finally recreate the Ozdust dance: acting against her own self-interest to save Elphaba and take up the fire of her cause

Fiyero, to his credit, is the only person who cannot be pushed from his line. The very first chance he gets, he follows Elphaba blindly, despite hearing all these terrible things about her. Then he willingly sacrifices himself for her and her cause, and they torture him to (a fate worse than) death for it. And even when Elphaba really does go evil, he still believes that she will ultimately choose good. His loyalty to her is not well rewarded (see: fate worse than death), but he makes his sacrifice willingly. His belief destroyed him.

What I really like about the play’s story is that from all these different starting goals and motivations, every character is forced to give up everything that is dear to them - including their fundamental selves - by the end of the story. Yet, they all three still continue to overlap and influence each other in ways that lead them all to a choice of “making good” in the end. SO excited to see that played out on screen.

[honey-tongued-devil]

[Arcane preference]reacting to their s/o calling them husband/wife for the first time

I’ve finished the first chapter of the long fic about Universe 7 (Anytime it rains). As soon as my second beta reader gives me the okay, I’ll post it. While I wait, I’ve written the first headcanon (out of three I’m definitely planning to write and post in the next few days) and picked up the drawing of Steb I’d left unfinished. I’m slow, as usual, but English isn’t my first language, and I’m juggling a lot of things at once. Enjoy!

socials: | INPRNT | | Tip Jar | | X | | BlueSky | | Ao3 | poster: | Jayce poster | | Silco poster | |Silco +self insert poster 1| | Steb poster | if you want to read the fluff longfic with vander and his happy family + Silco x reader you can find it here! ↠ Masterlist

Jayce:

-This man is planning to put a ring on your finger as soon as possible, okay? -Between the academy, public appearances, and both theoretical and practical studies, there isn’t a single moment when he’s really in the right mindset to bring up the topic -The worst part is that, deep down, he’s terrified of putting pressure on you -That’s why, the first time he hears you refer to him as “my husband” during a gala with noble families, he almost chokes -He has to gather all his strength not to grab the interlocutor by the shoulders and ask if they also heard you say that word -He’ll try to keep his composure, maybe responding to your remark with, “Yes, exactly. Her husband really did say/do/design that.”

Viktor:

-It’s not a thought he’s ever really entertained; it never crossed his mind -Part of it is that science is his priority, and part of it is that marriage doesn’t seem like something meant for people like him, -The first time you call him “your husband”, that thought suddenly becomes real in his head, and he can’t help but lean against a wall and wait for the other person to leave -“So, I’m your husband now, huh? Mmm… I don’t mind, a bit pretentious, though…” he jokes, making you roll your eyes -Now, more than ever, he has no idea what to do. He’ll give you a bronze ring from a machine he’s building -“Until I can get one worthy of you.”

Ekko:

-Yes -That’s it -The end -Okay, seriously. The idea of being certain that something will last forever is probably his greatest wish -The first time you call him your husband, he doesn’t see it coming -“Wait, you’re married?” -“I was talking about you, Ekko.” -The moment you say it, he points to his chest, you see his lip tremble slightly, and his eyes grow shinier -He won’t stop talking about it for a week, and at least once a day, he’ll ask if you still want to marry him, if you’re sure, if you love him -No rings before S2; the promise is made by drawing something for each other on your masks and clothes -After S2, he still can’t afford a ring, but now that life is more stable, he can start thinking about a more traditional gift, like a piece of jewelry

Vander:

-This man is ravenous for any family role you might offer him—fiancé, father, husband. Anything goes -The first time you call him “husband”, he plays it cool but will seize the first opportunity to return the favor by telling a customer you’re married -As soon as he can, he’ll squeeze your hand, even under the counter -The idea of being married and having a complete family is everything he’s ever wanted -He won’t stop calling you “my beautiful wife/husband” from that moment on.

-You said it first; you can’t take it back. Now you have to get married

Silco (old man):

-This man’s only sin is loving too much, but I’ll save that reflection for another post -Having no ties other than his illegitimate daughter doesn’t make him someone who’s particularly keen on formalities -The first time you call him “your husband” is in front of Sevika, and he slowly turns to look at you, while she slowly turns to look at him -“Did I... miss something?” Sevika asks, but he doesn’t reply, still perplexed, before glancing at her and saying, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” -He’s relieved but doesn’t show it. He can’t afford to just yet -As soon as he confirms you were serious, your name will be flamboyantly forgotten—he’ll constantly refer to you as “my wife/husband”

Silco (young):

-The man who survives on love -The first time you call him your husband is in front of Vander, and while Vander bursts out laughing, Silco chokes on his drink -“Are you serious?” He’s so happy that his pale iris are completely swallowed by his dilated pupils -He grabs a pen and draws a ring around your finger -To his credit, he works in a mine, so it’s hard to do better than that, but it becomes the goal that keeps him going -Completely focused on family, the future, and anything that sees the two of you together and happy

Steb:

-The first time you call him your husband is at a dinner among enforcer families, and being mute doesn’t stop him from stealing the spotlight -He whips around, blinking slowly with only his third eyelid in a gesture of confusion -When he’s 100% sure he understood what you said, his eyes widen, the small membranes under his eyes flutter madly, and even the barely visible gills near his jaw gasp for a moment -Someone says, “I didn’t know you were married,” and he immediately nods enthusiastically, not giving you time to take it back -Within 48 hours, he’ll have the ring ready

Jinx:

-The first time you call her “your wife”, she freezes -“What did you just call me?” -She’s used to being a little sister, a big sister, a daughter—she’d never thought she could be a wife. Family ties aren’t chosen, but the idea that someone would want her in their life so much they’d marry her feels incredible -“You want to marry me? Really? Why?” -She bursts into tears, and it’ll take at least 24 hours of cuddling in bed to calm her down -After that, she’ll run to her father to announce that she’s now a married woman

Vi:

-She might not be Silco and/or Vander’s blood daughter, but she’s inherited their deep desire for family -From her family’s tragic fate to Vander’s, she’s always seen family as the ultimate aspiration -When you call her “your wife” for the first time, she doesn’t notice right away, but a full minute later, she whirls around to look at you, as if to ask for confirmation -“Say it again.” -“...You need to buy bread?” -“No, all of it.” -“My wife needs to go buy bread.” -“Again.”

-"My... wife?"

-"Again"

Caitlyn:

-Has she thought about it? Yes -Was she planning to act on it? Not exactly -Caitlyn struggles with emotions and feelings, which is why she hesitates and takes her time -But when you first call her “your wife”, her brain completely shuts off—she just stares at you, unable to hear a single word being said -If you or someone else asks her a question, she’ll snap out of it and respond, -“My wife/husband said everything.” Even if it makes no sense as an answer, making you laugh and leaving the other person baffled

Mel:

-Not a single flicker of surprise—the first time you call her “your wife”, she remains completely composed -“So, I’m your wife?” she asks as soon as you’re in private, approaching you like a feline. You can almost hear the purr in her voice -She’s amused but also intrigued by whatever game you’re playing -The idea of marriage is complicated for her—on one hand, it feels like it would limit her freedom to act, while on the other, unresolved family issues seem to devour her at the mere thought of starting a new cycle -She’ll tell you to go ahead, to get married, but she’ll also ask for time -In the meantime, though, she’ll start using the term “husband/wife” with you—she likes the way it rolls off her tongue

Sevika:

-Between the work she does, the environment she lives in, and all the interesting circumstances of her life, marriage has never been on her radar -Not to mention that in Zaun, it’s not exactly a common practice—people just move in together and build families when they can, without much fuss over formalities or bureaucracy -The first time it happens, she’s playing cards with the other goons, and you casually ask if “your wife is winning” -Her first reaction isn’t even hers—it’s the others’. Dustin, the blond goon with the lazy eye, almost starts crying, embarrassing her -Don’t worry, she’ll make you pay for it at home -She won’t ask to formalize anything, but in true Zaunite fashion, she’ll consider you married, plain and simple

[kurthummeldeservesbetter]

I feel like something that should have been explored more in Arcane is that despite the dangers and pretty much horrific conditions, Zaun children seemingly grow up a lot more caring and have a larger understanding of family in comparison to Piltover children. And if such a reflection of the real world in a sense.

The kids of Zaun seemingly grow up with a lot more adult support. Ekko is easily welcomed under Benzo’s wings. Vander adopts 4 kids (two of which we learn he knew of before their parents death, two of which we can’t be sure of). Silco, despite all what happened, and his ulterior motives, shows no problem adopting Powder/Jinx. In the alternate universe it seems as though he’s still played a part in the kids lives. Jinx adopts Isha easily and Sevika cares for her as well. Hell, even Mr. War Crimes Against Humanity does well with little Viktor (until ya know, the animal abuse).

Hell, up until Vander dies (the first time) there seems to be a large understanding of if there’s an orphan or a kid in need of guidance, take them in! (And certainly don’t inform them of your plans to turn a giant pink salamander into drugs and be confused when a nine year old doesn’t understand). If a kid wants to be your apprentice, let them! For the most part, until things all went wrong in the end of act 1 of season 1, the worst parts of Zaun seem pretty typical for any city in poverty.

Match that with what we see with how Caitlyn and Jayce grow up. Caitlyn is given adult support, yes, and it’s clearly a good adult mentor, but it’s not entirely by her choice. It’s been chosen for her. She’s safe, but there’s a lack of freedom of choice. Meanwhile, when Jayce gets older, and that same accident in Act 1 happens, the family that supported him and his mom turns their backs. His own mom doesn’t support him either, because she’s afraid of what he’s talking about, but also because he’s damming them to being outcasts.

Conversely, Vander is more than willing to take the fall for what Claggor, Milo, Vi and Powder did. He’s willing to go to prison for a long time, in order for them to have a better future. Despite Vi’s best efforts, he’s not going to listen to her (she is just a kid) and he’s not letting his family go down and get hurt.

Meanwhile, a man who grew up in this mentality, where there’s a wide sense of family support from people who aren’t your biological family, is the one to go to Jayce, a stranger, and tells him he believes in him. It’s why it’s such a shock to Jayce; his own family and family friends denied him. They didn’t support him.

I think that’s what makes all the difference. Piltover and Zaun have wildly different understandings of family and forgiveness. For Piltover, it shuns and damns the lives of those who upset the balance. For Zaun, it provides safety and never ending understanding.

Just. I’m thinking.

[reidgenius]

Low Pain Tolerance | S.R. x Reader

image by reidgif <3

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader Word Count: 1.4k Category: angst, hurt/comfort? Warnings: commitment issues, wildly insecure!reader (it's really just me) A/N: I haven't written for Spencer before, so please excuse any OOC inaccuracies and be nice okay! I am a long-time lurker/admirer of the lovely @pathologicalreid and am writing this for her cutesy margovember event :) Song Inspo: Low Pain Tolerance by Abby Holliday

You never enjoyed running.

Still, that didn't stop you from doing it often. Whether it be on the job or in a relationship, you ran.

To catch a bad guy. To catch yourself before you fall. To stop something terrible before it happens... You ran.

In this instance, you found yourself running from Spencer Reid.

"Would you look at me? Please?" he pleaded.

You knew if you were to turn around that you'd see his glassy doe eyes and be drawn right back in. You knew your weaknesses, and he was certainly one of them. The biggest one. That's why you stayed put, staring at his bedroom wall.

"I can't, Spence." You meant to say it with finality, but it came out more as a whimper.

"You can't look at me, or you can't-"

"Neither. Both."

As the holidays approached, Spencer had mentioned the idea of the two of you making a trip out to Vegas. "Just for a day or two," he'd promised. Though there wasn't much he treasured about home, you knew that his mother was there, and that was more than reason enough.

This evening, he'd brought it up again after letting you avoid the topic for weeks.

"It's only a matter of time before you figure it out," you admit.

"Figure what out?"

"God, Spence, that I'm only bringing you down!" you nearly shouted, though you hadn't meant to. The anxiety took over. "I'm like... gahhh! I don't know how to do any of this, I-"

To your dismay, he let out a laugh as you finally turned to face him. A real, genuine laugh.

"Bringing me down?" He looked at you with an earnest amusement. "Honey, I don't think you realize what you-"

"I'm scared. Okay? Is that what you wanted me to admit? That I'm scared of meeting her?" A single tear gushed down your cheek.

His brows knit in concern as he quickly thought of ways to disprove the common fears surrounding schizophrenia and it's manifestations.

"Baby, schizophrenia doesn't ma-"

"Dammit Spencer, it's not about that! It's- I..."

You found yourself stumbling over your words.

"I don't care about her diagnoses!" you laughed. (Of course, you did care, but that wasn't what was scaring you.) "I'm scared of this!" you said, waving your hands between the two of you. "I don't want to rush it. I don't want to get her hopes up..."

You let your legs give way to sit on the floor against the wall, your head in your hands, mumbling to the cold hardwood.

"I don't want to get my hopes up."

There was it. That was the truth.

You weren't used to it. You weren't used to someone asking you how your day was and really caring. You weren't used to the notion that a man would want to wrap himself around you at night and keep you close. You'd never been one to draw much attention from men. Or women. Or anyone, really.

Naturally, you figured that there must be something deeply and inherently flawed in you. Something Spencer had yet to discover.

So, being with him was... terrifying. You were constantly waiting and wondering when he'd conclude that you weren't as pretty as he initially thought, or as witty, or as intelligent, or kind, or...

And it would only be cruel to drag Diana into this. To have her think that perhaps her son had found his person. To have her thinking that she might be meeting her future daughter-in-law. It felt cruel to yourself, in some twisted way, to pretend that this was all going to last.

Spencer was typically a fast thinker, but your admission had the cogs in his brain working overtime. You were afraid of him? Of your relationship?

He padded over to join you on the floor, keeping a little distance so as not to scare you.

"Get your hopes up? You don't-" he gulped, "I mean... you don't think we're gonna- that this is gonna work out?"

Still speaking to the floor, you sigh, "I don't know, Spence."

You were exhausted. Incessantly feeling like you're on the brink of being "found out" can do that to a person. It's not that Spencer hadn't done all the right things. No, he was the perfect partner. But therein lied the issue. He was perfect. And, in your opinion, you were far, far from it.

You took a deep breath through your tears.

"I don't think I can keep doing this."

Confusion. Utter shock. Things had been going so well with you the past 8 months. Spencer immediately began to wrack his brain combing through all the possible mistakes he could've made. Did he raise his voice with you? Had he forgotten some big milestone? Was he not giving you enough?

"Honey I-" he gathered himself, placing a hand on your thigh, "I'm so sorry. Can I ask... what makes you say all this?"

Though you were reluctant, you figured that now was as good a time as any.

"Spencer. I am not good for you! Good enough for you!" With each point, you illustrated by raising a finger, "I am impulsive and I complain and I get weird sometimes when you touch me and I can be a massive bitch and I never know how to-"

"Woah, woah, woah-" He snuck up closer to you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and placing his head atop yours, all while you kept rambling. "Why in the world do you say that? Not good enough for me? If anything it's me who isn't deserving of you..."

"No, you-"

He stopped you in your tracks just by saying your name in that beautiful way he does. Like its covered in honey and dripping with admiration.

"You are everything. You may think those things about yourself but I certainly don't." His thumb caressed your bare skin so carefully as he continued, speaking slowly so as to allow the words to really sink in. "You are the most generous person I've ever encountered. You care so deeply about people you love. You are courageous and willing to try all the weird foods I suggest even though you really don't want to." He smirked a bit at that one. "You have taken everything that life has thrown at you and navigated it with grace. You really are just... you're it. You're her. You're the girl - the woman - I've always hoped would come my way but never dreamed actually would. Honey, I've figured out everything I need to know when it comes to how I feel about you."

You sat there, warm under his embrace, pondering his words as he spoke. It's nothing he hasn't said before, granted, in much less grand and emotionally charged ways. But it was like you were really hearing it for the first time. You wanted so badly to believe him.

"I love you," he continued. "I love you so much that sometimes I am afraid of myself. Of what I'd do for you. You, god, you make me so much better."

"I love you, too. Too much," you squeaked out.

"No. Not too much." He leaned back to encourage you to look up at him. "You know I really mean all that right? Just the way you are. Quirks included?"

"I guess. And now I'm just self-conscious that I am so self-conscious..."

"You say that as if I'm not the exact same way!" he chuckles, trying to make light of what is clearly a shared wound. You'll deal with that later. Together, preferably. "Please, trust me. Do you trust me?"

And you did. You trusted Spencer with every cell in your body and hair on your head. There was nobody else you'd ever been so confident in. So, you nod against his chest as your tears begin to subside.

"Good. Now why don't we move this party up into the bed?"

"No offense, Spencer, but the last thing I want right now is to f-"

"No no no nooope! Not that, babe," he laughed. "Just wanna lay with you 'til this feeling passes. Is that okay?"

"Please."

And so, the rest of the evening consisted of cuddles under your massive comforter. Sweet admissions whispered in your ear. The tiniest kisses to your hairline and your shoulder and your nose and your wrists.

By the time you dozed into a worry-free slumber, you believed him a little more.

Perhaps you could let Spencer love you, forever.

[sweettoothy]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃𝐒 𝐄𝐍𝐃

╰ SHOW ﹕ ARCANE !

︵ WARNING(S) ﹕╰ swearing ⸝ violence ﹕ sex

︵ relationship ﹕ Vi x fem!fragile!reader x Caitlyn

NOTE: here we areeee, I was very excited to do this chapter since we can get into what kinda powers (name) has ^^ omg first kisses?!?!? I hope y’all don’t mind the change.

⟣・S2・FINALLY GOT THE NAME RIGHT︰

THE MAN IN FRONT of you sneezes, you handed him one of your extra masks and looked around with curiosity— you knew not to wander off far since caitlyn was focused on finding jinx. Though you knew exactly why she wanted to find her, she was starting to act a little different towards both you and vi— which was…understandable of her since her mother had died but it wasn’t a good change, though.

“Thanks.” The man tells you thankfully. “I thought I was a goner.”

“You’re smeech’s man.” Vi spoke.

“Was.” The man corrects. “I--“ he sneezes again, covering his mouth. “Oh. I decided it was time for me to retire.”

“Looks more like someone decided to retire you.” Caitlyn retorts.

The man chuckles. “Yeah, well, timing was never my strong--“ he sneezes again. “Sorry. Sorry, it’s…it’s the grey. It gives me the--“ he sneezes again.

Caitlyn stepped forward threateningly. “Tell us how you wound up here.” she demanded, aiming her gun at him.

“Hey, wait, wait.” Heenot pleads. “Jinx is off the rails, even for her. She’s got a real fire lit up under her ass. she’s planning something big, right here in the pipe works.”

You moved the gun away from the man carefully, eyeing caitlyn with slight surprise.

“It is a pretty big place down here to do that.” You added.

Heenot grunts. “She was headed towards the old tunnels. Something about rerouting the vents.”

Caitlyn moved her finger away from the trigger, her face upturned into a scowl. “this is it, then. Cuff him.”

“Hey! I told you everything I know.” Heenot protests.

“You’re a confessed criminal. You’ll spend your retirement in a cell.” Caitlyn tells him, cocking her gun and tilting her head. “Check your gear. This is what we’ve trained for.”

Vi sighs, slowly walking near caitlyn, “can I get a minute? with you?” she asks you.

Caitlyn slowly turns around, seeing you and vi standing there with unsure looks. Avoiding caitlyn’s gaze you nodded and followed vi.

YOU SET YOUR WEAPON aside as you leaned against the railing inside the tunnel, tucking some of your (h/c) hair behind your ear as you gazed at a saddened but determined vi, her head lowered as she shifted her feet.

“We should cut the others loose.” Vi tells you, her eyes landing on yours as she sees you gasp quietly before speaking.

“Listen..if that heenot man is telling the truth, we may need all the help we can get, vi.” You whisper to her softly, only loud enough for her to hear.

Vi shakes her head. “She’ll smell their nerves a mile away and find a way to use them against us.” she informs you, “tell me I’m wrong.”

You were think about it, blinking a few times. maybe she was right— and she was. jinx probably wouldn’t hesitate to kill you, and as many times as vi told you to stay away from the blue haired girl it was like you would get caught in the crossfire every time.

“You know cait,” You spoke. “She won’t let jinx get away again without a doubt. she’s dead set on getting her. are you sure you’re even ready to--?”

Vi interrupts you. “(Name) she almost killed you. and it’s like everyone I care about either ends up dying or changing-- I can’t let that happen. my sister is gone. there’s only jinx now. It has to end.”

You knew this was hurting her, having to do this. but it was only now or later— because ending it all later would be too late.

Vi looks at your bandaged arm, “I am so sorry about your arm. I’m sorry I can’t fix it-- but please just…everyone in my life has changed. promise me you won’t change, you or caitlyn.”

Tears escape and cascade down her eyes as a gentle sob racked her throat.

Walking towards her you reached out your hand and cupped her cheek, going onto your tippy toes to kiss the tear away. Vi took a glance down at your lips before she began to lean in, you doing the same.

Vi fully leaned in and pressed her lips against yours, your lips molding against hers in a perfect melody. Vi then feels you pull away, your (e/c) eyes looking into hers again.

“I promise.” You whisper softly, nuzzling your nose against hers. “I won’t.”

Vi drops her gauntlets and suddenly her hands are wrapping around the small of your waist as she lifts you up into her arms with ease, her hands finding their way to your ass as she gives it a gentle squeeze, the kiss deepening from there as the two of you continued kissing.

This felt nice.

When vi pulls away, she sets you down. “Not bad for your first kiss, huh?”

“Hey! you did it first! I just finished it.” You winked before your watch started beeping, “huh…Jayce wants me to meet up with him. can you and cait do this alone?” you ask.

Vi nods in reply. “Yeah, yeah. I’d rather you be somewhere safe other than here.”

HEADING INSIDE JAYCE’S office, you see a younger male sitting with him, making you tilt your head in curiosity, “this is ekko?” You asked with a warm smile. Ekko seemed unsure whether to trust you but the smile made him ease a bit.

“What’s the topic?” You asked while sitting down, crossing your leg over the other as you leaned your cheek against your palm.

“Hextech.” Jayce replies. “Viktor hypothesized that there may be something he called ‘wild runes’. patterns that occur naturally where the border between our world and the arcane is thin.”

“Runes like the ones you use in hextech.” Ekko replies, leaning his head against his hand. “What’s the difference between those and wild runes?”

“Pass me a tome.” Jayce tells him.

Ekko slides the book over to him.

“So I used words you understood in order to elicit your action.” Jayce explains. “This is what hextech runs are.”

“Pass me a tome.” Jayce tells you this time.

You grabbed the book and handed it to him.

“Pass me a tome.” He says once more.

You let out a frustrated sigh, throwing the book his way.

“There! you sighed. still a kind of language.” Jayce says. “A sound, but not words. something raw. natural. that’s wild runes. most places, the arcane is dormant, but here and there, it’s more active. and wild runes are--“

“Sort of like its fingerprints.” Ekko finishes.

“Exactly.” Jayce nods in agreement.

Your brows furrowed. “Wait wait-- you mean to tell me you-- by using so much of the hextech you’re basically pissing off the arcane?”

“That’s-- that’s not what I--“ Jayce stammered as he avoided your gaze.

“Ooh, she may be onto something. every action sparks a reaction.” Heimerdinger says, accidentally dropping something on the ground. “Oh, ball sockets.”

Ekko chuckles when he sees this.

“Do you think this could actually be a result of overuse of hextech?” Jayce asks you, maybe it was true…using way too much hextech always made you wonder what would happen.

“That’s the only reason.” You answer, leaning back in your seat as you pondered the idea of what could happen. “I mean..I don’t use it, but if I did I probably would overuse it and not even know. everything has its limits.”

“We tested our hextech under every conceivable condition for years.” Jayce says. “If there’s some reaction taking place, how come we’ve never seen any sign of it until now? and why would it appear on a tree, deep underground?”

You and Jayce share a look.

“WHAT IS THIS PLACE?” YOU ASKED with curiosity as you sat down your bag, walking next to heimerdinger who looked around.

“I thought the gemstone mesh was installed above ground.” Ekko says.

“Me too..” you added with narrowed eyes.

“The mesh is above ground, but we weren’t sure what would happen if the gate overloaded, so we installed a failsafe at the base.” Jayce explains, you crossed your arms over your chest, still unsure about the whole thing.

“So instead of it exploding in your neighborhood, it would blow up in ours.” Ekko retorts.

Jayce turns to him. “We’re miles from the main fissures.”

“These are the same utility ducts that carry our water,” Ekko tells him. “And facilitate our ventilation. and that would explain it affecting the tree.”

“Inconceivable.” You hear heimerdinger say.

“That..that doesn’t explain--“ You paused, wondering if becoming an enforcer was really what you wanted in the first place.

“You know, you say we should feel like we’re all one people.” Ekko continues. “But whenever it rains, we’re the ones that get wet--“

His voice echoed as the scenery in the room changed to something completely different, you blinked a few times, eyes landing on what was in front of you.

“What the…” Jayce trails off confusedly, looking around himself.

The entire room was white, dull, like it was full of nothing.

“Is that..a wild rune?” Ekko questioned, your gazed landed on the wild rune in front of you.

“I have no idea what that is.” Jayce added.

All four of you stood in front of whatever the glowing ball was in front of you, you stepped back, eyes widening a bit. “No way.”

Weirdly enough the rune starts affecting your hair, the edge of the strands beginning to change colors. Jayce reaches forward begins to touch it.

“Ow!” You flinched away from the rune, whatever you just felt rush into your skin made it hurt a thousand times worse than your hair.

“Jayce, stop touching it!” You shouted at him.

But Jayce doesn’t hear you.

The world felt like it was spinning before you turned towards him, a chill runs down your spine as your bottom lip trembled. “Hello..?”

You felt yourself collapse, the air in your lungs beginning to fade. Jayce touches the rune, you clutched your head, starting to hear whispers from every side of you. “Stop, stop, stop!”

Whatever you were hearing didn’t want to stop, it’s like they enjoyed antagonizing you.

The world around you was starting to look different.

“Ekko! Jayce!” You shout again. “Anyone?!”

Silence.

Something blasts you in your chest, knocking you back as blood falls down your nose.

Then it fades to black.

END OF CHAPTER THREE

[fayesia]

Day 7 - Breeding

"The Realms Desire" - uncle!Daemon x niece!reader

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ ׂ🦢 𓈒ೀ

ᯓᡣ𐭩 warnings - Targcest!, breeding kink obv, Aemondxreader mentioned, cunnilingus, p in v, dirty talk, nipple play?, brief slut shaming, spit play

ᯓᡣ𐭩 wc - 2.1k

The final family supper ended in uproar, as the children were sent to their respectful chambers, the remaining adults silently looked at one another. Letting out a sharp breath Alicent concluded the dinner.

"Well, I believe we should all take our rest, it has been quite an...eventful night."

Agreeing with her, the dining hall cleared out, and you took the long winding walk through the silent hallways back to your room. As you neared the corner to your apartments door, a hand reached out harshly, tugging you against their lean figure. Letting out a yelp, you panicked before realising it was Aemond, his eyes wide because of the loud noise you made.

"Aemond, what is the manner of this? You should be in your room"

"Please. I need you. Just one more time, one last time"

It wasn't a secret to the guards and maids who patrolled the halls and entered your room that Prince Aemond would spend some nights with you. The manner, however, was merely for comfort, and although clothes were sparsely worn, blasphemy never fully occurred. He would simply explore and imagine while you gently stroked the soft gleaming white hair the two of you shared.

"Not tonight, Aemond. Tensions have already risen thanks to your rash wording, I think it's best not to stir the pot anymore."

His grip, however, didn't loosen. Your reprimanding words and denial hurt the Prince, someone who was born with a golden spoon in their mouth. He opened his mouth to retaliate, but upon the sound of nearing footsteps, he stepped away and out of the shadows, sauntering off in the opposite direction.

You caught your breath as thoughts swirled in your mind. Pushing open the door, you turned to close it before a voice called out to you.

"Princess, wait"

Before you could reply, your uncles broad frame walked in, cornering you against the now shut door.

"What was Aemond doing here, with you, I recall the children being sent to bed"

Stunned at the confrontational question you took a while to reply.

"Yes...no..he was-Aemond was just..."

Your sentence faltered, unable to answer as your head hung low to not look Daemon in the eyes.

"Was he listing after you again? Is that it? Did he want to fuck you tonight. After all the discord he has caused."

"What? No. No, of course not, don't be ridiculous-"

"Ridiculous? Me asking about the man who enters your room to bed you every night is ridiculous?"

"He doesn't bed me."

"Of course he doesn't. Because he sees all of you and simply does nothing, is that it?"

His sarcastic tone did not go unoticed, angering you more as he spoke down to you as if you were still a mere child.

"Yes! Uncle he does nothing. Please believe me."

"How can I believe you, the evidence is rather contradictory of what my ears are hearing and my eyes see."

"Why should it bother you? You have your wife, my sister. My behaviours should be of no business to you. Whether I bed him or not is not a matter of your concern, uncle."

Stepping sidewards to evade his presence, Daemon moves quickly, slamming you against the door and knocking the breath from you.

"Do you like that he fucks you princess, to spend every night getting filled with his seed? Is that all you want to be. A whore for a disfigured man."

Casting your eyes from the floor to your uncles face, you see the rage he holds.

"Can barely call him a man, though can I. You don't even know what it's like to take the cock of a real man"

Leaning closer, his hands travelled from your shoulders to your waist.

"Do you want to know what it's like, princess?"

He hips rubbed against you, both strong arms from years of training and fighting pulled you closer, as you felt his hard bulge beneath his breaches. You let out a whimper, an internal battle being fought about his advances.

"We mustn't. We can not." Your cheeks flushed as heat coursed through your entire body. Your words were the opposite of your movements, chest to chest with your uncle, the thin material of your gown rubbed against your sensitive nipples. The sight of them pebbling added with the sensation had you growing wetter, shifting your thighs against each other in an effort to stop the reaction you had to Daemon.

An action not gone unoticed by him.

"We can though. No one has to know. I can teach you how a proper man fucks his whores."

Throwing all rash thoughts out the window you meekly nodded while your uncle steered you towards your bed. Laying you on your back Daemon climbed over, leaning down to connect lips in an unforgiving kiss, you grew dizzy at the sheer force while his tongue explored your mouth. His spit mixed with your own as his tongue traced across your lips before dragging down your chin to your neck, where kisses were places against your soft skin.

You lifted off the bed, soft moans released from your mouth, in hopes to be as close with Daemon as humanely possible. His hands lifted you upwards to him until you were comfortably straddling his lap. The expertise he had with woman coming to light as he was quick and swift to untie the laces of your dress as it fell from your shoulders. Leaving you in nothing but your smallclothes, which was already soaked in your own desire.

With an act of confidence you leaned forward to connect your lips to his once more, Daemon used this time to clumsily undress while trying to keep you pleased with his mouth. When you disconnected, your eyes wavered on the many battle scars that marred the Princes skin, from his neck to his back, you gently lifted a finger to trace the scarred flesh.

Daemon used this opportunity to explore you himself. His large hands encased your breasts that fit comfortably in his palms. Rubbing across your pebbled nipples, he smirked, squeezing the flesh, noticing the subtle rotation of your hips against his groin.

"Does my princess enjoy this?"

Unable to get the words out you just nodded.

"Is this what you and Aemond do?"

The tone in his voice was one of mock and jealousy, and you thought it best not to reply with your usual sarcastic tone. For this was not a moment you wanted to end because you simply couldn't hold your tongue.

Laying you back down, Daemon travelled down your body, licking your nipples as he took turns to evenly stimulate both with his tongue. The spit felt sticky and made your nipple harder once they were released from the Princes' warm mouth. His tongue continued its journey downwards, his mouth encasing your cunt over your damp smallclothes.

"Or is this what he does to you?"

Licking more stripes across the fabric, it soon grew transparent with the mixture of both his spit and your liquids. Shaking your head, you denied such actions every occurring.

"Shame. The boy is missing out. Never tasted a sweter cunt. That of a virtuous princess."

His strong hands ripped the smallclothes from your thighs as they were roughly tossed somewhere across your room. Inhaling sharply, you felt Daemons mouth back on your sensitive flesh, except this time there was nothing in between, his tongue flicking through your crevices. Your hands grabbed at his hair, pushing him closer to your centre while he worked ferociously in an effort to make you climax. Looking down at him, your eyes met his hooded ones, the purple of both your eyes were darkened by the lust shared for one another.

Holding your legs open, his grip on your thighs grew stronger as you came. His name flowed off your tongue like a prayer, and your moans could easily be heard by the guards standing outside in the hallway. Your hips bucked into his face as your body and mind fought a battle of whether to run from the pleasure or take more.

Daemon released your shaking thighs, climbing up your body with a smirk across his wet face covered with your release. His kissed you again, this time with the sole purpose of sharing the taste of your release between both of you. The idea was made obvious as he gathered his spit and spat in your own mouth.

The liquid made up of mostly your own release, the messy transaction dripped down your chin, but Daemon gathered it with his thumb, pushing it back into your mouth for you to swallow.

Sucking his thumb, you looked at Daemon with the sweetest eyes in the realm. For if your sister was the realms delight than in this moment, he concluded that you were truly the realms desire.

His cock was enough to prove that, it's much gossiped about size was bobbing against your thigh and becoming harder to ignore as precum dripped from it and marked your skin.

"Please, Daemon, I want you, need you to fill me"

"Is that what you want sweet niece, to be fucked like a whore, to feel your uncle fill you with his seed"

Nodding your head, you went limp as Daemon positioned you on all fours. A pillow under your stomach as he pushed you back into a deep arch, his mouth gently kissing down your spine. Entering you in one quick thrust you moaned into the sheets, immediately feeling stuffed with the thick girth of your uncles cock.

"Gods, you feel so good."

"The gods are not the one filling you, sweet thing. It is my name you should be calling out to."

Daemons thrust sped up as your unwavering moans spurred him on. His hands grabbed the flesh of your hips to guide your cunt up and down his cock as they travelled up to grab your breasts. His fingers squeezing your nipple as the flesh of his thighs loudly slapped against the flesh of your ass. Finally one of his hands moved to wrap around your neck while the other around your waist lifted you to lean against his chest.

The new position allowed his cock to enter you at a deeper angle than before. Your eyes could barely stay open as they rolled back in pure pleasure as your mouth fell open with no noise escaping.

"Do you enjoy this? Being fucked by your uncle. To know your uncles seed will soon fill you up so you can carry his babe."

Whining out you couldn't think hard enough to reply, his cock had fucked you dumb. Turning your head the look you gave him was enough to answer his question, his mouth released a puff of hot air against your neck as he laughed.

"To bad that boy will never fuck you like this, ruined you for anyone else haven't I sweet niece, no one else will fuck this cunt better than your dear uncle."

Absentmindedly, you nodded, almost letting out a yelp of shock when Daemons fingers reached down to rub at your bundle of nerves.

He makes you squirm as he drills his cock harder up into you, while circling his fingers faster, drawing you over the edge. Clawing his arm that's wrapped around your waist, your throughs of pleasure lead you to press deep cresent into his skin, hard enough to draw blood. Breathing heavily against your neck he fully sits you on top of his cock as his climax nears.

"Let me fill you niece. So you can grow my babe in you and mother my child, strengthen our family line, and grace our children with your beauty."

Dazed and exhausted from the best climax you had ever had, you stroked Daemons hair in almost the same way you do with Aemond. As wrong as it was, you found it amusing that the two men with so much tension between them had the same liking to certain treatments in bed.

"Please uncle..cum inside me...fill me with your seed, please Daemon.

The sound of his name whispered from your lips and the taboo of an uncle breeding his niece, pushed him to his breaking point, letting out a near animalistic groans as his cock pumped his cum into you. The warm liquid splashed against your walls and was sure to fill your womb with how deep he was inside you.

Gently kissing his forhead you stroked your uncles hair, letting him catch his breath. It was a mutually agreement to not move you off his cock, for the Princes seed must go to waste.

"So good...such a good girl for me."

His words brought a warm feeling of pride to spread inside your chest as you curled in his lap, drifting into a restful sleep as he rocked you in his arms like he did when you were young.

Kinktober Masterlist

[nanenna]

I couldn't stop thinking about this despite having like 5gajillion wips, so have my humble submission. Be warned: lots of set up/narration. Also Bruce thinks a few times how grateful he is Barbara is currently "whole", this isn't meant to be ablist so much as him just being grateful she hasn't been injured by the Joker yet.

-------

Bruce woke up startled, chest heaving as he flailed around, disoriented. Where was he? When was he? What was the last thing he remembered? There were two sets of memories for that. He remembered having another fight with Dick after the end of a regular patrol before trudging up to bed. He also remembered years and years following that unremarkable patrol, an invasion, a battle, and fearing maybe this time he really was going to die.

He fumbled around until he found a lamp and turned it on. He was in his bed in the manor, in his own bedroom. There sitting on the nightstand, under the lamp he'd just turned on, was a phone on its charger. It was an older model. It was the newest model. It was both.

Bruce lunged for it, quickly turning it on to see the date and time. It was the past. Or it was the present and these new memories are the future. It was both.

Bruce let his head fall into his other hand, the one not holding the new/old phone. He was disoriented, he was confused, he was overwhelmed.

It was 4 o'clock in the goddamned morning.

Alfred couldn't make him contribute to the swear jar if he kept the swears internal.

No, focus. Focus on the present, what were his plans for the morning? Was it a school day? Did Alfred have plans? Fuck it, Bruce was calling all of them in sick, he needed to sort through all the memories he'd just had dumped on him and he… he needed to talk to his son. There was years of hurt he could prevent right now if he just swallowed his pride and TALKED to Dick.

Jason would be so proud of him.

Jason! Where was he right now? And Tim? Duke? Damian? Cass? Steph? Barbara would be home safe in her bed in her own home with Gordon, safe and whole. The others should be too, to varying degrees.

But Jason! And Cass!

Bruce practically flung himself from his bed, not even bothering with a robe before rushing into the hallway.

--------

It had taken both Dick and Alfred wrestling Bruce down to the kitchen to sit at the island and several cups of tea for Bruce to confusingly, haltingly stumble through his whole explanation. He kept having to backtrack to explain who the names he kept dropping were. It hurt to see that confusion and lack of recognition on their faces. It hurt seeing Alfred alive and well and so much younger, to see Dick be so very very young.

Eventually they decided to bring Barbara into it, knowing they would need her help.

Amazingly having to explain everything helped Bruce organize his racing thoughts. He even had the beginnings of a plan by the time he was winding down.

The first step was to confirm whether or not these sudden new memories were real. The easiest way was actually to go find his closest two sons: Tim and Jason.

Tim was easy enough, now that he and Dick knew he was following them on patrol he was rather easy to spot and even easier to convince the small, star struck boy back to the cave. It was no effort at all to get him to agree to move into the manor until his parents returned from their trip. Bruce would not make getting custody of Tim back easy for them.

Jason was a little more difficult. Willis and Catherine had both died and Jason had fallen into the cracks, completely vanished from the legal eye. They had to hunt through the streets of Park Row and Bruce winced with guilt all the while. Jason had been right, it wasn't fair of him to just give up on the entire neighborhood like he had. Bruce also knew he'd been right that it wouldn't be fair to the rest of Gotham for him to pour everything into Park Row and leave the rest of the city to rot. It was something he, Dick, and Barbara could plan together, because it was a lesson his future self had learned too late but Bruce was going to stand by: to actually work together you needed to communicate.

Once Jason had finally been found and brought home (safe! Safe and home where he belonged, where he had free access to all the food and books his little heart could desire) the next to get was Cass. Duke and Steph had loving homes, well Steph did once her father was behind bars and her mother being given a monthly stipend to support them. Bruce felt a little bad, knowing Cass was suffering and he'd waited until Jason was safe first, but Alfred and Dick had agreed this was for the best.

It took a great deal of searching, Cass had gone wandering far further than Jason ever had while homeless. It was all worth it when they finally found her and Bruce held out his hand, knowing she could read the love he had for his little girl in every line of his body.

Cass was home! Safe and loved and learning ASL alongside the rest of his children, already becoming fast friends with Barbara (whole and healthy still). It was finally time to bring home his baby.

--------

It may have been Batman that walked into Nanda Parbat but it was Bruce who confronted Talia.

“Beloved, what brings you here?” Talia greeted him with a wide smile and arms.

“I'm here for my son.”

A look of carefully cultivated surprise crossed her face. “How did you find out?”

“Last time you dropped him off at my doorstep when he was ten years old.”

“Ah, time travel then.”

“Of a sort,” Bruce agreed. “Frankly, I'm hurt you kept him from me for so long, I'm hurt you just left him behind without any warning too.”

“You have so many children now, one would think you have enough to keep you busy.” Talia turned away with a huff.

“I wasn't going to wait for them to find me this time when I can care for them now.” Bruce wasn't ashamed of loving his children, he planned on telling them so, often and loudly. “I also know what Ra's has planned for Damian, even if you don't. I won't stand by for him any more than I will the others.”

Talia stayed turned away from Bruce a moment longer, then turned back, her face carefully blank. “Just Damian?”

“All my children,” Bruce affirmed, unsure what exactly Talia meant.

Talia’s lips thinned, then she turned and started walking. Bruce followed, carefully keeping pace with her. She led him further into the compound, into the private living quarters used for the family of Ra’s. Eventually they entered a room, presumably Talia’s. She led him further into the room, where an attendant obediently bowed out of the way at their approach. The floor was covered in a plush rug and pillows, sitting in the center surrounded by clunky toys were two toddlers.

Bruce froze as he stared down at the two children in shock.

There were two.

Why were there two?

Both looked up as Talia approached, one with her glittering green eyes and one with shimmering blue.

Twins.

Damian had a twin.

Damian never told anyone he had a twin.

Talia had never told him he’d had another child.

Bruce’s mind raced as he furiously went through the foreign memories, though they had already started to fade. J’onn had warned him that was likely to happen, and he should let it lest the extra memories cause issues later. But right now he couldn’t help frantically sorting through them, trying to find some clue or reason.

“Damian you already know, and this is Daniel.”

“Twins,” Bruce found himself croaking out as he stared at the blue eyed boy in heartbroken grief. “In the other timeline Damian never mentioned a twin.”

Talia nodded, “And I did not either.”

“No.”

“Something must have happened to him, something awful. It was possibly the reason my other self brought Damian to you.”

When he first arrived had Damian been grieving his twin’s death? Had that been why he was so quick and steadfast in rejecting any sibling? Had every time someone called Tim or Dick or Jason his brother been another sprinkling of salt in a wound that was all too fresh?

Talia picked Daniel up and stepped over to Bruce. “Habibi this is your father.”

Bruce quickly pushed the cowl off and removed his gloves. There wasn’t much to be done for the rest of his armor, but he wanted his sons to be as comfortable as possible.

“We may never know what happened then, but if my other self thought Damian would only be safe with you then I trust her. And I trust you, my beloved.”

Bruce swallowed thickly as he took Daniel in his arms, holding the lost son he’d never known about. “I… thank you, Talia.”

Talia bent and picked Damian up, then handed him over as well. “Thank me by raising them well.”

“Come check on them,” Bruce blurted out. “You’re still their mother, I won’t prevent you from seeing them. Come visit, be a part of their lives, tell me I spoil them too much.” Bruce didn’t know what he was saying, that ship had long sailed. Or it had, in that other timeline that now wouldn’t ever happen, couldn’t after the changes that had already happened. He knew that other Bruce had been too in love with Selina and too bitter towards Talia to even consider this. But in the here and now…

“I will visit,” Talia said firmly, “but I will not stay.”

“I’m sure they’ll be happy to see you,” Bruce said, just repeating banal niceties at this point.

Talia smiled as she reached up to pull his cowl back on. “I must distract Father while you leave. Be well, Beloved, my darlings.” Talia leaned down to give each boy a single kiss on the head, ending with a kiss to Bruce’s cheek.

--------

Everyone had been shocked when he walked off the plane carrying two toddlers, but none more than Alfred, Barbara, and Dick. After getting everyone settled down and the twins in their new bedroom (thankfully they had enough things for two boys, thank heavens for Alfred overpreparing), the four of them convened in Bruce’s office where Alfred had brought them all tea and a few snacks.

“Twins,” Alfred asked once everyone had taken a seat and a cup.

Bruce huffed out a long sigh, “I had no idea. In the other timeline neither Damian nor Talia ever mentioned Daniel. Something happened, something awful.”

“Don’t beat yourself up about it, B,” Dick said seriously. “There was no way for you to know, and there’s no way to find out now.”

“You’re just going to hurt yourself if you keep trying to remember something that never happened and now never will,” Barbara added.

“Miss Barbara is correct,” Alfred said gently. “The important thing now is to ensure the boy’s continued health and safety. There’s no use in worrying about a timeline that you no longer have a connection to.”

Bruce nodded, he needed to let the memories go, he needed to be able to focus on the here and now. He’d written down as much as he could remember already, an edited down version given to the Justice League to consult though he felt it would become increasingly useless over time. Just by mending things with Dick and finding all his children he’d already changed things so drastically he doubted the memories would be useful for their family.

“Yes, you’re right, Daniel was a curve ball but he doesn’t really change the plan.” The next step: neutralize the Joker. There really were a variety of ways to make the man no longer a threat that didn’t kill him, and it was well past time Bruce chose one.

I have seen batfam fics and ideas where time traveling Bruce gets the kids earlier and stops all the bad things from happening to them. But I can't help but want to combine this with the DCXDP demon twins AU.

Imagine time traveler Bruce showing up at the league of assassins years early demanding his son... Only for two children to come out. Now he is forced to learn he had another son no one told him about. He has no clue what happened to Danny in the original timeline, only that it must have been bad for Damian to have never mentioned it.

[sisyphean-tragedian]

A Walk in the Forest

[got bored over thanksgiving. so instead of hanging out with my family i wrote fanfiction. Living la Vida Loca] [thanks to my Best Friend @jangles28 for being there while i wrote. Mwah.] [tw: smoking, non-consensual kiss, mentioned dead family member]

--

The detective had gone back to his mother-in-law’s house for the holidays. Only for about a week, just to make sure Junior wasn’t completely bereft of any company save the detective’s (and visits from Waldo? Maybe? God, they’d have to up the security again). 

It was hard, though. Even after years had passed, there were still the looks of sorrow and pity, and there was an extra chair left dusty in the closet. Junior seemed to be meshing well with the relations. It would be good for them to hear stories about their mother, stories still too painful for the detective to tell.

Having settled Junior down in front of their grandmother for a few of said stories, the detective flashed her a pained smile and announced that they’d be slipping out for a quick walk.

“Alright, hon, just be careful, would you? And don’t forget to bundle up, it’s getting cold.”

The detective’s mother-in-law chimed in with her ever-helpful advice, and Junior looked up at them with a smile and a wave. The detective smiled back, less pained this time, and told Junior to be good while they were gone.

They walked toward the coat closet, and pulled out their trench coat and other appropriate cold-weather gear. Properly “bundled up”, as their mother-in-law had put it, they exited the house with one final wave. 

Their mother-in-law’s residence was smack in the middle of a forest, so it was perfect to wander around and think in. Not that they had much to think about, at the moment. It was more an excuse to get away from the crush of pitying family members and reminiscences about their unfortunately late wife. The sentiment was nice and all, but it just made the detective feel worse after a while.

They started down a relatively little-traveled path in the woods. It really was beautiful, with oak and aspen and pine all around, and snow beginning to fall in large white flakes. They knew that the precipitation would drive then back inside sooner rather than later, but all they needed was a few minutes to clear their head.

Reaching into the pocket of their trench coat, they pulled out their packet of cigarettes and their lighter. After a bit of fumbling, they managed to get a cigarette lit and in their mouth. They took a drag, and exhaled a long draught of smoke. It warmed them nicely.

After a few minutes of simply smoking and wandering through the woods, the detective declared themselves sufficiently not-morose enough to go back and engage more with their relations. They turned around and began to head back to the house.

Only… 

They couldn’t find the path.

They tried to retrace their steps, follow the sun, a trail of ashes, notable strange-looking trees, anything that might help them find their way back to the house, but they had no luck.

Keeping a cool head, they continued to scour the landscape for any hints of the path back to their mother-in-law’s abode. Nada.

Then, off in the distance, against the autumnal backdrop of oranges, browns, and swirls of white, they spotted him.

He was leaning against a tree, smiling his insufferable smile, in his stupid striped sweater.

Still a little off-balance due to the constant reminders of their dead wife, the detective charged. Against their better judgement, of course, seeing as they had no weapons except their cigarette lighter, and no real means of subduing Waldo in case they did manage to get him down.

Just as they had reached tackling distance, Waldo stuck out his cane, and the detective ran bodily into it. Winded, they fell back against a nearby tree, and clutched at their chest while trying to regain their breath.

Waldo looked down at them, still with that ever-present smile.

“You look a little lost, dear detective. I saw you walking earlier, and I simply couldn’t resist taking the chance to say hello to an old friend.”

The detective, still slightly winded, snarled at Waldo. Much to their chagrin, this only made Waldo’s smile widen.

“I can help you back to your beloved family, detective, but it’ll come at a price to you. What do you say to a walk with me?”

Having recovered from both their earlier fit of rage and running into Waldo’s cane full-force, the detective took a look at him, weighed their options, then promptly turned around and walked away. From previous experience, they knew that they could unfortunately not out-grapple Waldo (who knew something that looked like mere skin and bones could be that strong?), and they didn’t think they could put up with the needling that he was sure to put them through.

So, they walked away. Picking their battles and all. They continued through the forest, searching for the path. They could hear Waldo behind them, in the crunching leaves and the soft giggles that came every now and again.

Eventually, they stopped walking. The sun had begun to set, casting long shadows across the forest floor. They had yet to find the path, and the relentless giggling was getting on their nerves. Suddenly, they felt someone much closer behind them than previously anticipated.

“Are you sure you don’t want my assistance, detective? It won’t cost you much, I promise. And I’m sure your baby is worried for you…”

Jumping away from Waldo, the detective turned to face him once again. At the reminder of their child, they caved a little. They had been searching for at least forty five minutes, and they had yet to find the trail that should have taken them ten minutes at the most. Briefly, they debated the merits of getting into a scuffle with Waldo. Based on empirical evidence, that would leave them bruised, frustrated, and Waldo-less, and they really did need to get back to Junior.

“Fine. No funny business, though. I don’t want to deal with any of your tricks,” acquiesced the detective with a sigh.

“Me? Tricks? I wouldn’t dream of such a thing, detective. Tricks are beneath me. Now, come along!” While speaking, Waldo looped an arm over the detective’s shoulder, much to their chagrin, and started walking in what seemed like no particular direction.

Waldo whistled as he walked, the detective noted. It was all too cheery a tune for a murderer, but they weren’t about to tell him to switch it up. They had to practically take two steps to every one of Waldo’s and they suspected that he might’ve been enjoying that, if the new lilt to his smile was any indication.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, they came within sight of the house. The walk was stunningly hijinks-free, but the detective knew that out of sight didn’t mean out of mind for Waldo. They tried to duck out of his grip, but all of a sudden, his hand turned to steel on their shoulder.

“Not so fast, dear detective. I said there’d be a price, and I’m a man of my word,” Waldo said.

As the detective inhaled to ask what Waldo wanted from them, they were abruptly lifted, and pressed against a nearby tree. Indignantly, they tried to flail out of Waldo’s grasp, but he kept them firmly in the air.

When they tried to start protesting this treatment; however, there came something that they didn’t expect. 

Waldo leaned in, and pressed a kiss to their lips. The detective, jarred, jerked back, but unfortunately hit their head against the tree. Waldo chuckled, then dropped them unceremoniously to the ground. 

“Do remember your spacial awareness, detective. Anyhow, I’m sure your child misses you sorely. It has been fun, mouse, we should do this more often. Happy holidays!” 

And with that, he was gone. The detective, indignant, picked themself up off the ground, and brushed all the leaf debris off. Maybe they had time for one more smoke before they went in, just to steady their nerves? 

They reached in their pocket, and found a signature red envelope in place of their cigarettes. When had Waldo even found the time to do that? Inside, they found a rather condescending note regarding their smoking habit. With a frustrated growl, they stormed the rest of the way back to their mother-in-law’s house, and hugged a teary-eyed Junior upon their arrival.

The detective reassured everyone that they were alright, they had just lost track of time in the woods, no need to worry, but their words rang hollow even to themself. That night, once again, they sat beside an empty spot at the dinner table, and stared out towards the patch of woods where they had last seen Waldo. The snow that had since fallen covered any trace that might have remained from the afternoon’s happenings.

[superbreadsoul]

LEAVE ME BEHIND

Rafe Cameron x Reader

MDNI!!!

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

Warning: EXTREMELY TOXIC exes, heartbreak, open ended/bittersweet ending, Rafe is a bad boyfriend, Reader is DRUNK as fuck, Reader has a POTTY-MOUTH, Reader is a crybaby/ abusive (for that ONE time) , mentions alcohol abuse/murder, Reader might get on your nerves–i sincerely apologise for that–, cheating (i hate this, dont do this) , Porn with plot.

Read if you like to see Rafe beg. Read at your own risk. Seriously. This is real bad.

WORD COUNT: 22503 WORDS

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

Y/N had always been aware that she wasn’t Rafe’s first love. That truth weighed heavily on her, a constant reminder that while he was her everything, she was merely a chapter in his story. It hurt like hell when the memories of their past would slip from his lips, eliciting laughter and a light in his blue eyes that hadn’t touched her in far too long. She cried herself to sleep in the quiet moments, yet she held strong, hiding her pain behind a brave façade. She didn’t want him to know how deeply the shadows of his past affected her.

One fateful evening at Rafe's party, her strength threatened to crumble completely. They had retreated to the terrace, surrounded by laughter and music, but that warmth was abruptly shattered. In the blink of an eye, Rafe stood up from the sofa, leaving her behind as he disappeared downstairs, swallowed by the chaotic crowd of people lost in drink and clouded senses. 

And then her heart froze. There he was, standing with her.

Sofia.

Rafe’s ex-girlfriend was an ethereal presence, her laughter dancing through the air, her smile radiant and infectious. Y/N stood there, feeling like a ghost in her own life, invisible and aching as she watched Rafe beam at Sofia like she was the only person in the world. The joy in his face was a knife twisting in Y/N’s already breakable heart, and in that moment, reality warped around her—she felt as though the world had collapsed, leaving nothing but a hollow pit where her heart had been.

Gripping her whiskey glass tightly, she downed the contents and inhaled sharply, shaking off the swirling fog of jealousy and sadness that threatened to overtake her. She pushed through the bodies, determination fueling her every step as she made her way toward them, each heartbeat echoing a painful reminder of her insecurity.

“Rafe!” she called out over the booming music, fighting against both the noise and the burgeoning panic within.

Rafe’s head turned, surprise flickering across his features as his eyes landed on her. They swept down to the glass in her hand, and for a moment, she saw something in his gaze—concern. But it was fleeting.

“Yeah? You alright?” he asked casually, his body still angled towards Sofia.

Y/N’s resolve quaked as she glanced at Sofia, the thin woman with an effortless grace. Feeling fat and out of place, Y/N swallowed hard. “I wanna go,” she said, her voice strained.

The moment the words left her lips, Rafe's demeanour shifted. He crossed his arms, annoyance blooming like a dark cloud. “What? You want to go home already?”

Sofia remained silent, her expression unreadable, as if this petty feud was merely an amusing spectacle to her. 

“Yes. I wanna go home. Let’s go,�� Y/N insisted, desperation creeping into her tone.

Rafe studied her for a heartbeat, tension brewing in the air before he turned to Sofia with a tight smile. “I’ll text you later,” he said, the words bitter on Y/N's tongue. 

As Sofia departed, Rafe leaned in, placing a hand on her arm, a gesture meant to be comforting. “Let’s go home,” he murmured softly.

But all Y/N could think about were the words he had carelessly cast aside. “The fuck does that mean? You’ll text her later?” The frustration flowed out, raw and unfiltered.

Rafe flinched at her tone, brows knitting together in disbelief. “Goddamn… why can’t you just chill for once? There’s nothing going on between me and her.”

“Okay? Then why do you need to text her back?” The whiskey emboldened her, turning frustration into sharp urgency.

“Why do I need to text her back…” he echoed, annoyance edging his voice. He twisted the keys into the engine with a loud huff. “It’s none of your business. We’re friends. I should be able to have a normal conversation with her without being questioned!”

“What the fuck? How is that none of my business? You’re my fucking boyfriend, Rafe!” She pressed, incredulity mingling with her alcohol courage; she jabbed a finger into her chest, needing to reinforce her claim.

He took a deep breath, shaking his head as he tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “Goddammit, how drunk are you?”

Her voice turned fervent—slurred—, as she clung to her thoughts. “This is about you and who—what even is she? Sofia? Whatever—You can’t keep leaving me to talk with your ex. You can’t!”

Rafe looked like he might erupt from frustration as her words tumbled out, jumbled and frantic. “First of all, you’re being paranoid. I didn’t leave you to talk with her; you didn’t even let me explain. She is my friend. Just a friend.”

“Don’t you dare tell me she’s just a friend!” Y/N shot back, her hands tangling in her hair. “She’s your ex-girlfriend!”

“EX-girlfriend, Y/N. EX!” he repeated, exasperated. “Why can’t you understand this doesn’t matter anymore?”

He slowed the car slightly, the distance between them growing palpable. “I’m with you... not with her,” he said, frustration dripping from every word. “Why are you even concerned about this?”

Tears pooled in Y/N’s eyes, and the air shifted into something brittle and raw. “Because I—” She let go of her hair, mascara imbuing her cheeks with dark streaks. “I love you. And sometimes—sometimes I feel like you don’t love me anymore.”

Rafe's heart stumbled in his chest as he absorbed Y/N's words, a stark revelation crackling in the air between them like a lightning bolt. The weight of her pain crashed over him, suffocating and starkly real. He despised the sight of her like this, broken and vulnerable, the glistening tears brimming in her eyes a torture he had never wished to witness. 

Desperate to escape the rising tension, Rafe swallowed hard and pulled the car to a stop on the side of the dimly lit road. The engine ticked softly in the heavy silence, each second stretching unbearably as the truth hung unspoken. Finally, he turned to her, his voice barely rising above a whisper. “Why would you think that…?”

Y/N let out a quiet sniffle, her head leaning back against the seat, the gentle thud a counterpoint to the turmoil swirling within her. “You don’t bring me flowers anymore,” she said, each word a painful reminder. “You used to do it every morning at the beginning, just to see me smile. You never used to touch your phone when we were together. You always told me I had your ‘undivided attention.’ And now, when I call you, you don’t even look up. You’re always texting and calling—but it’s not me.” Her voice broke, the final words slipping out with a vulnerability that tore at Rafe's heart.

Each of her statements pierced through him like shards of glass, a painful truth echoing in the silence. Guilt washed over him, seeping into every crevice of his being. She was right. Everything had shifted after a few months together. He had taken her presence for granted, convinced she would always be there. In his mind, their love didn't need nurturing; it was solid, a constant. 

He shook his head slowly, searching for something—anything—worthy to say, but the words eluded him. “I’m—I’m so…” The admission caught in his throat, his chest tightening around the confession. “I’m so sorry, N/N…” he finally managed, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Are you?” she replied, her voice fragile, almost breaking. In that moment, she began to peel at the skin around her nails, a habit borne of anxiety, fresh red lines marking her fingers as blood seeped through the fissures. 

“Of course I am…” Rafe responded quietly, instinctively reaching for her hand to stop her frantic movements. With tenderness, he brushed his thumb across the inflamed skin, feeling the warmth and pain radiating from her. “You’re right. I was an idiot. I got used to you just being there, and I thought that was enough. I stopped trying to show you how important you are to me, and that was a horrible thing to do.” 

His heart thundered in his chest as he pressed on, “But believe me, I still love you—just like I used to, if not more.” 

Her gaze held his, but pain still clouded her verdant eyes. “Yeah, but it doesn’t feel that way, Rafe…” she whispered, tears shimmering on her lashes like tiny crystals.

The sight of her despair knotted in his gut. He hated that she was hurting—hated that it was because of him. His heart ached, every beat a reminder of his shortcomings. 

With a deep, shaky breath, Rafe leaned closer, his fingers tenderly grasping her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. The depth of guilt reflected in his gaze was palpable, a shared sorrow bleeding into the space between them. “What can I do to make you believe me?” he murmured, vulnerability seeping into his tone.

After a long, drawn-out silence, Y/N nuzzled into his palm, her voice hoarse but unwavering. “Block her.” 

The words landed heavily, a command disguised as a plea, echoing in the stillness of the car. Rafe felt an internal battle surge within him. Blocking Sofia felt like a severing of old ties, a rejection of a past that still clung to him like a shadow. But then he looked at Y/N, saw the raw hope flickering behind her pain-stricken eyes, and the decision crystallised. 

Y/N’s expression softened, a glimmer of light breaking through the storm clouds of their turmoil. “I just need to know you’re choosing me,” she whispered, her hand resting against his, the warmth bridging the distance their struggles had created.

Rafe paused, the weight of Y/N’s words settling heavily in the car’s confined space. He hadn’t expected this at all. The idea of blocking Sofia taunted him, a spectre of his past that seemed impossible to banish, yet he knew deep down that he had to try. He had to understand Y/N's pain, to grasp the depth of her desire. With a slow, hesitant breath, he rubbed his thumb over her cheek, searching for a glimmer of hope in her pleading eyes. “Would this make you happy?” he murmured.

“No,” she whispered, her voice a sweet melody concealing the storm beneath, as she pressed a gentle kiss to his palm. Her eyes locked onto his, holding him captive.

Rafe swallowed hard, a mix of frustration and longing swirling in his chest. Stubbornness tugged at him, tempting him to argue, to dismiss her request as overreacting, yet the power of her gaze stilled him. Those big, expressive eyes had an unusual strength, compelling him to give in time and time again. 

He remained silent for a few moments, thoughts racing through his mind until he finally mustered the courage to ask, “And what would make you happy?”

“I want you—to never see her again.” The urgency in her words wrapped around him, her kiss stealing his breath and igniting a flicker of conflict within him.

Rafe's brow furrowed. Why did letting go of his ex-girlfriend gnaw at him so painfully? He was certain he loved Y/N more with every corner of his being, yet the shadows of his past loomed large, whispering doubts that he couldn’t fully shake.

He leaned closer, cupping her delicate face in his hands, their foreheads nearly touching. The warmth radiating from her skin enveloped him, and for a fleeting moment, he imagined a future free from his past. “I’ll block her…” he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper.

But Y/N's reaction was immediate and unsettling. Her eyes darkened, locking onto his with an intensity that chilled him to the core. “That’s not what I asked.”

Rafe’s heart raced in his chest. The sharpness of her tone sent a shiver down his spine, igniting an unfamiliar heat within him. He found himself caught between fear and admiration for this fierce side of her. “What you’re asking me to do is… a lot…” he murmured, fighting against the rasp in his voice.

In an instant, Y/N grasped his jaw, her fingers digging in painfully as she scrutinised his face with a fierce glare. “I fucking gave you everything! You think Sofia can give you what I can? Huh? You think she can handle the truth about you? About the shit you pulled? All that blood on your hands that only I know about?” Her voice was a low, intense growl, each word a knife plunging deeper into the wounds they both carried.

“Dammit, N/N…” Rafe muttered, closing his eyes tightly, feeling the conflicting sensations of pain and thrill wash over him. The grip on his jaw hurt, but it stirred something primal in him, a strange exhilaration that had been absent for so long. 

Initially taken aback by her ferocity, he felt anger swell inside him, a potent mix of indignation and adrenaline. He seized her wrist, pulling her hand away from his face with a force that surprised them both. In that moment, the familiar Rafe faded, revealing someone darker, someone more raw and unrefined—a reflection of the storm raging inside him.

“There he is,” Y/N whispered, a sick grin curving her lips, her gaze darting between his eyes. “There’s Rafe Cameron.” 

Her words hung in the air, threading through the chaos of their emotions. The familiar comfort of their love was nothing but a fragile illusion; the confrontation had peeled away the layers, exposing the raw edges of their hearts. In this unexpected standoff, he realised they were standing at a crossroads, the familiar path fading behind them while an unknown future beckoned, uncertain and fraught with danger.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Rafe growled, his voice a reverberating thunder in the dimly lit room. He tightened his grip around her wrist, pulling her closer to him to prevent any more intimate gestures, a mix of confusion and fury swirling in his chest. He leaned in, eyes sharp and piercing, locking onto hers as if trying to strip away her bravado. “You can’t be making demands from me, baby,” he muttered lowly, his tone dripping with disdain. His hand slid from her wrist, fingers curling around her chin with a possessive strength that left no doubt about his intentions.

She smirked, unfazed by his aggression, her eyes glinting with a challenge as she replied, “She’s never seen this side of you. And she won’t be able to handle it.” 

Rafe narrowed his eyes, feeling the anger simmer just beneath the surface. He tightened his grip, his fingers pressing into her skin with a force that bordered on pain. “And you can?” He shot back, each word steeped in venom. 

Silence hung thickly between them, the air charged with tension as he bore down on her, his emotions a chaotic storm. She didn’t flinch; instead, she leaned in, a reckless smile playing on her lips, a wicked glimmer in her gaze. 

“Oh baby,” she purred, leaning toward him to trail her tongue across his cheek. The touch sent shockwaves through him, igniting a reckless energy he couldn’t fully suppress. “I’m the one who washed Peterkin’s blood off your hands. Remember?” The words were slurred but heavy, dripping with undeniable intimacy as she nipped at his skin, her breath hot against him.

At the mention of Peterkin, Rafe froze. A scowl twisted his face, the memory crashing over him like a wave; she had stayed by his side that night, battling against the bitter reality of the choices he made. She had been there, without questions, helping him scrub away the remnants of a life steeped in darkness. The fact that she wielded it like a weapon made his blood run cold.

With a sharp tug, he pulled her back, their faces inches apart, the tension crackling with unspoken words. “Don’t bring that up...” The warning came out in a whisper, as his breath ghosted against her lips.

“Or what, baby? You gonna hit me?” Her demeanour shifted, shifting from defiance to mockery, her droopy eyes sparkling with mischief. “Or you gonna fuck me?” The laughter that escaped her lips was both intoxicating and infuriating, a reckless bravado that made his heart race in frustration.

Rafe felt a torrent of emotions boil within him. Sure, she was drunk, her inhibitions lowered, but no one ever dared to speak to him like this. “Or I’m gonna leave,” he growled, forcing his voice to remain steady, even though he felt a tempest brewing inside.

Her smile faltered, eyes narrowing like daggers. “Oh yeah?” she asked, bitterness dripping from each word.

“Yeah...” he replied, refusing to yield, his grip unyielding on her chin as he continued, “I could just leave you here and go back to that fancy party. Have a great time. I could find me some chick to flirt with…” Each word was a calculated blow, designed to pierce through any facade of confidence she wore.

He watched her reaction closely, a mixture of satisfaction and guilt welling up inside him. He knew he was being cruel, pushing her buttons with the precision of a surgeon, but in her inebriated state, it was too easy to pull the strings and watch her unravel.

As anticipated, her expression soured, the alcohol stripping away the bravado as her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “You fucking asshole,” she hissed, her voice trembling with a cocktail of anger and hurt.

The words struck him hard, reverberating in the charged silence, and for a fleeting moment, he saw through the haze of his emotions. He was treading on dangerous ground, dancing around a precipice that threatened to swallow them both whole. But in that moment, anger drowned out everything else, and the walls they had built around their complicated relationship began to crumble under the weight of their truth.

Rafe held her gaze, unblinking, feeling the burning intensity of the moment wrap around them like a shroud. It felt like a fight worth having, a dangerous game of chess played with hearts instead of pawns. They were both wounded, entangled in a dance of blood and desire, standing at the edge of something raw and bleak, yet electric with possibility.

Rafe’s heart hardened into a stone as he fixed his gaze on her. She was a storm of tears and rage, and yet all he felt was the cold weight of justification. “You brought Peterkin into this,” he thought bitterly, punishing her with his silence. If she was going to cry, he didn’t care. It was what she deserved for making him listen to her ludicrous demands. For pushing him into a corner where he had to choose sides.

“Are you happy now?” He hoped she was drowning in her anguish. He wanted her to feel as defeated and frustrated as he did, to grasp the gravity of her impact on his life.

But the moment the tears began to slip down her cheeks, all resolve crumbled, replaced by raw fury. She shoved him, the force of her frustration breaking through her disorientation. She slapped him, the sound echoing in the confined space of the car like a gunshot. “Fucking—asshole—you fucking asshole—fucking—prick!” she screamed, each word a jagged knife cutting deeper.

Rafe didn’t flinch as she struck him again and again, each slap marked by her frustration and heartache. Instead, he absorbed the blows, the sharp pain a bittersweet reminder of the emotional turmoil they shared. As he sat there, he could see the tears pooling in her eyes, reflecting the fury within her. Hatred swirled within him, yet it mingled with something far more powerful—love. 

“Are you done yet?” he gritted out through clenched teeth, his voice slicing through her sobs.

She responded with a loud sob, pushing him back in his seat one last time, the anger finally bubbling to a climax. “—Fuck you!” Without a second thought, she undid her seatbelt and stumbled out of the car, her heart breaking into jagged pieces as she fell to her knees. Wobbly-legged, she stood up and started walking away, her heels clicking erratically on the pavement.

“Whoa, hold on!” Panic clawed at Rafe's insides as he jumped out of the car, chasing after her. No way was he letting her walk the streets alone like this, not in this state. He caught up to her swiftly, grabbing her hand and wrenching her around to face him. “Where the hell are you going?!” he roared, anger still bubbling under the surface.

“Get away from me!” she shouted back, shoving him weakly as her heel wobbled beneath her. “—you—you go ahead and go fuck someone else, Rafe!” The words cut deep, each one saturated with betrayal as tears streamed irrepressibly down her cheeks.

Stunned, Rafe staggered back, his hand falling away as she continued to express her pain. The darkness in his gaze turned more profound, the finality of her words settling like a dense fog around them. 

“Fine,” he retorted sharply, crossing his arms defensively. “Maybe I will.” 

Her expression morphed from anger to disbelief, her breath heavy, as if the weight of his words had knocked the wind out of her. She stumbled slightly but regained her balance, and Rafe felt his heart racing, torn between anger and an aching desire to pull her into his arms.

“You don’t mean that,” she said softly, vulnerability creeping into her voice, but Rafe could only watch, hardened by the atmosphere they had created. He could feel everything inside him at war as he wrestled with his desire to comfort her and his instinct to protect himself from further pain.

In his mind, scenarios played out at a thousand miles per hour. He imagined pulling her close, cradling her waist as he helped her step back into the car. He imagined undressing her slowly, taking off her heels so she could feel grounded again. But amidst fantasy thoughts, he held her gaze steady, fierce and unyielding.

Then she rushed forward, fueled by anger and hurt, and shoved him squarely in the chest. “Fuck you!” she sobbed, the sound reverberating through him.

The emotional distance felt insurmountable, yet the impulse to reach for her was almost irresistible. In the space between them, love and hurt collided, creating a crackling tension that threatened to ignite. Rafe felt himself tilting closer to the edge of surrender, where pride met vulnerability, waiting for the moment when the dam would break and everything would spill over. 

But for now, they stood locked in place, a standoff between emotions they couldn’t articulate, both unwilling to yield yet desperate for something they didn’t know how to name. The night stretched around them, a tapestry woven from pain, love, and fractured trust, waiting for one brave soul to take the first step toward healing or destruction.

Rafe stood in the fading light of the evening, a silent sentinel caught in the crossfire of their shattered relationship. The air around them was thick with tension as he watched her shove him, each push a desperate, futile attempt to rid herself of the pain that had wedged itself between them. Instinctively, he took a step back, allowing her to vent her frustration, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his jeans, a mask of stoicism over his anguished heart.

Each sob that escaped her felt like a dagger to his chest, each word that tore from her lips a reminder of their crumbling world. He kept his expression blank, a practised indifference, while inside, his heart shattered a little more with every shaky breath she took. 

“Fuck—you—” she spat, her weak slaps against his chest more a reflection of her helplessness than any real aggression, until at last she surrendered. She leaned against him, forehead pressed to the softness of his shirt, her breath hitching as she battled the storm within.

For a moment, Rafe was taken aback. She had broken, and now, in the quiet of their chaos, he felt the weight of her despair. As her body grew heavy against him, he exhaled deeply, the tension coiling in his muscles loosening just enough for him to allow a gentle touch. He placed one hand atop her head, not as a conqueror but as a confidant, trying to ease the disappointment that clung to them like a shroud.

“Please don’t leave me.” Her voice was barely a whisper, lodged in the crook of his neck. The sincerity struck him like a bolt of lightning, igniting something deep within him.

Rafe swallowed hard, the weight of her pleading words pulling him under. He fought against the urge to shatter in response. He desperately wanted to be strong, to stand firm against the tempest that threatened to pull them apart, yet it was nearly impossible to withstand the raw pain emanating from her.

His hand moved instinctively to the back of her head, fingers tangling in her hair as he lowered his face toward her neck. Lips brushed softly against her skin, the kisses light and featherlike, rich with unspoken assurances and regrets. Each delicate touch was a promise, an apology for the battle raging around and within them.

Her soft cry of relief sent tremors through him. She gasped, fingers entwining in the hair at his nape, pulling him ever closer. “Please, baby,” she murmured, a plea wrapped in vulnerability.

Time seemed suspended as Rafe enveloped her in his arms, holding her close while she wept, his lips tracing the line of her neck until he pulled back. He sought her eyes with his dark pools of frustration and residual love. Here they were, two souls fighting to stay connected in a world that felt determined to tear them apart.

“Let’s get you back to the car, baby.” His voice was quiet, almost regretful, the weight of his words settling heavily between them.

With those words, her expression shifted, and an invisible barrier seemed to form. The spark dimmed in her eyes, swallowed by the shadow of defeat. Rafe felt the weight of guilt choking him as he helped her slide into the truck, watching as she numbly fastened her seatbelt. He turned the key in the ignition, the engine roaring to life, but silence hung in the air, a thick, insurmountable void that neither dared to breach.

As they drove, Rafe’s mind churned with unresolved frustration. He could see how her spirit dimmed, the toll of their fight etching itself deeper into her features. And yet, anger coiled tightly in his chest like a spring, refusing to uncoil. He felt that he had wrecked it all, that she was slipping further away with every mile they travelled.

When the car finally came to a halt outside their shared house, Rafe got out and rounded the vehicle. He opened the passenger door, extending a hand in silence, inviting her to lean on him one last time. Her reluctance sent another stab of worry through him, but she took his hand, a fragile thread connecting them as he helped her out of the truck.

“Come on,” he said softly, but his tone lacked warmth, the chill of his emotions seeping through the cracks of his facade. As she stumbled in her heels, fumbling with the keys, Rafe felt the darkness creeping back into his heart. Each fumble was evidence of her distress, a reminder that they were both drowning beneath their anguish.

Without thinking, he stepped behind her, hands resting on her hips to steady her. A moment stretched into eternity before he quietly took the keys, unlocking the door with the ease of someone who had done it too many times before. He pushed it open and let her pass, watching her retreat into the hallway, her head hung low.

With her back turned, she stumbled into their bedroom, a retreat into a space once filled with love but now haunted by sorrow. Rafe's urge to follow her, to reclaim the passion they had shared, clawed at him. He wanted to pull her back, to envelop her in a wave of unrestrained intimacy to drown out the pain—but he remained rooted to the spot.

He swallowed his emotions and retreated to the living room. There, he sank onto the couch, his face pressing into his palms as if the very act could erase the turmoil in his heart. The silence of the apartment was deafening, a mirror to the chaos within him.

In that moment of solitude surrounded by echoes of their fractured relationship, Rafe was left grappling with the choices they had made and the love that remained tangled in the shadows. And as he sat there, the weight of uncertainty pressing down on him, he knew this was only the beginning of the battle they both faced—the battle to reclaim what had once been whole.

The dim light of the room flickered softly, capturing the tension suspended in the air like a taut string ready to snap. She had shed her dress, her silhouette partially obscured by an open robe that cascaded around her figure like a gentle waterfall. The vulnerability of her state struck Rafe hard as he stood there, an unwilling spectator wrestling with his unruly emotions.

When the soft padding of her bare feet reached him, his heart thrummed an erratic beat. He looked up, his breath catching in his throat as he took in the sight of her—every curve, every lingering shadow framed by the gentle glow of the room. His gaze lingered, heavy and carnal, awakening something deep within him that had lain dormant, buried beneath layers of anger and hurt.

She moved closer, her fingertips brushing through his buzzed hair, sending jolts through his body with each tentative scratch against his scalp. “Are you still mad at me?” she asked, her voice a whisper, soft and inviting, laced with an undercurrent of anxiety.

Jesus Christ, he thought, exhaustion and desire battling within him. He swallowed hard, struggling to filter out his lust from the simmering annoyance that had threatened to consume him moments ago. She knew exactly how to distract him, how to drive him wild, even in the face of their heated words. 

He opened his eyes and allowed his gaze to travel up her body, finally locking onto hers. “What do you think?” he murmured, his voice low and laced with unintentional desire.

Her lips twisted into a soft smile, almost playful. “You know I’m pretty mad at you too, ya know?” She scratched at his head again, her touch a familiar blend of warmth and teasing, making his resolve falter.

“Yeah?” he muttered, giving in to her gentle caress as he leaned into it, his eyes fluttering shut once more. His fingers sought her hip, fingertips curling around the edge of her robe, a silent plea to pull her closer. “Why’s that, sweetheart?”

As if taking charge of the moment, she leaned forward, her stomach pressing against his face. “You really hurt me when you said those things, baby,” she admitted, her eyes shimmering with vulnerability as she watched him, parting her lips slightly, inviting.

Rafe could barely contain the groan that escaped him as her warmth enveloped him. The ache in his chest softened for a moment, and he surrendered to her, letting himself be consumed by her presence. “You hurt me too, sweetheart.” The words came out against the softness of her skin, a whispered confession that laid bare their raw connection.

“Yeah? I hurt you?” she coaxed, her voice gentle, teasing. The heat rising between them was electric.

Instead of answering, he bent to kiss her stomach—a slow, deliberate exploration of the warmth that radiated from her skin. His lips travelled from her belly button down to the edge of her panties, tasting her desire as humiliation and longing swirled together in the air between them.

“You have no idea how bad it hurt, sweetheart,” he whispered, his voice thick with longing, dragging his lips against the delicate fabric that separated them.

“I’m sorry, baby. You know I’m sorry. Don’t you?” Her voice was soothing, yet charged with an underlying tension that made his heart race. The pleasure of her whispers urged him on, fueled his insatiable hunger.

Rafe’s resolve wavered as he mumbled, “I don’t know if I do, sweetheart. You never said it.” His lips danced along her waistband, hovering at the precipice of temptation.

Her whimper was like a siren's call. “Fuck—Rafe…” she breathed, fingers curling into his shoulders, desperate for his touch. It was a sound that ignited the fire within him, driving him to the edge of control.

He couldn’t resist her any longer. His kisses transformed from gentle brushes to hungry demands, his tongue savouring the taste of her through the fabric of her panties. He gripped her hips, pulling her closer, drowning in the intoxicating rhythm of her pleasure.

As she threw her head back with a moan that rocked him to his core, Rafe felt her desperation seep into him, fueling his own need. “Rafe!” she cried, urging him onward as she rolled her hips against him.

Her moans echoed like music, songs of desire woven into the very fabric of the moment. Each sound twisted in his chest, fueling his own hunger as he lost himself in her rhythm. 

“Fuck!” she moaned, her body arching further into him as she lifted a leg onto the couch, granting him deeper access to her heat. 

“Stop moving, sweetheart…” he murmured, his voice strained, a raw edge betraying his attempts at restraint. But it was a losing battle.

“Please, baby…” The desperation in her whisper sent shockwaves through him, each plea unravelling his resolve thread by thread.

And then all at once, he surrendered. Frayed edges of anger burned away, replaced by a sheer lust that consumed him whole. He tugged her panties down with a swift, possessive motion, his mouth crashing against her skin, tasting her essence and relishing the soft shudder she gave in return.

But then suddenly, she pulled back, abandoning him, and Rafe's heart raced in confusion as he searched her eyes for an explanation. “Why’d you pull away?” he murmured, the huskiness of his voice reflecting his bewilderment, dark eyes wild with desire.

With a sultry grin, she sank to her knees, her hands scooting up the length of his thighs, sending an electrifying jolt through him. “Just trying to show you how sorry I am,” she purred, a playful glimmer in her gaze.

“Ah, Jesus Christ…” The words escaped Rafe in a low, ragged breath, a mix of anticipation and disbelief hanging in the air as he watched her—a vision of temptation—sink slowly to her knees. Time seemed to stretch as his eyes traced the curve of her body, lingering on the soft silhouette of her breasts spilling seductively from the open night robe. She was an intoxicating sight, her intent clear in the way she fixed her gaze upon him.

A deep, primal groan rumbled within him as her hands crept up his thighs, delicate yet possessive, each touch sending electric jolts through his body. Rafe’s muscles tensed beneath her fingertips, a cocktail of desire and restraint coursing through his veins, urging him to surrender to the mounting heat between them.

She kissed a path up his thighs, a teasing warmth that turned his breath into shallow gasps. The world outside faded into a distant memory; all that mattered was the two of them caught in this moment of unspoken need.

His belt felt like a weighty barrier to what they both craved—the need to close the distance that separated them. Rafe swallowed hard, his determination faltering as he felt her fingers deftly working the leather free. He lifted his hips instinctively, granting her permission, a silent plea for more. Each moment stretched out, a tantalising promise of what was to come, yet he fought to maintain control, feeling it slip away from him as he watched her.

Then, in a daring move that ignited the wildest part of him, she mouthed at the outline of him, tracing his arousal with the promise of pleasure, before finally releasing him from the confines of his pants. The sensation of her warm mouth enveloping him sent shockwaves through his body, each pulse of ecstasy igniting a raw hunger deep within.

His grip tightened in her hair, fingers curling into strands as he fought the urge to lose himself completely. The primal feeling of ownership surged through him, overwhelming and intoxicating. “Fuck, you’re so good,” he murmured, the admission torn from his lips as if it were a primal chant. 

With a surge of lustful dominance, he found his other hand threading back into her hair, guiding her movements, forcing her to take him deeper. The sensation sent his senses reeling, his hips instinctively jerking forward as he pushed himself further into her warmth, wanting to claim every inch of her. The muffled sounds of her moans reverberated against his skin, a siren call that stoked the flames of his desire.

Rafe lost himself in the rhythm, each thrust a testament to his frustration and lust—a fervent need to conquer her stubbornness, to turn their simmering tensions into this burning connection. “Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum,” he growled, locking his eyes onto the tear-streaked canvas of her face.

The sight only fueled his desire further, each drop of vulnerability and submission reflected back at him a thrilling confirmation of their raw connection. It was a potent mixture of power and tenderness, and he craved it with every fibre of his being.

But just as the crescendo of pleasure threatened to burst from him, he couldn’t stop the urge to pull her away, needing to see her fully—a wild and untamed beauty caught in the storm of their desires. He kissed her roughly, tasting both her essence and the remnants of her submission, savouring the sweet agony that hung between them. 

In that moment, boundaries dissolved, and all that remained was the intoxicating connection they shared—the thrilling dance on the precipice of overwhelming desire. Together, they were everything and nothing, lost in a world where only they existed, where the lines between pleasure and pain blurred, leading them to the brink of ecstasy.

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

Rafe had no idea how they had wound up in this entangled embrace, lost in the shadows of the late evening. It felt surreal, almost as if he had stepped into a fantasy woven from the fabric of his deepest desires. Yet in this electrifying moment, he couldn’t afford to drift away into that dreamlike state; his attention was locked entirely on her.

He was on top of her, their bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces, one of his legs nestled between her thighs while the other dangled precariously over the edge of the couch. The very air around them buzzed with an intensity that made the room seem smaller, the world outside a distant memory. His fingers dug into her hip as he held her right leg over his shoulder, grounding them both in their shared pleasure.

A soft, breathy moan escaped her lips, reverberating through him like a siren’s call. As he thrust into her roughly, her nails raked down his back, leaving fiery trails of sensation that sent a jolt of desire coursing through his veins. Rafe was becoming increasingly lost in the pleasure building within him, a potent force that threatened to consume him, making coherent thought nearly impossible. 

Her nails dug deeper into his skin, coaxing out a low, primal growl against the curve of her neck, the sound resonating like a raw confession. “Keep doing that, sweetheart…” he murmured, his voice thick with need, the air around them charged and electric.

“Fuck—don’t stop—” she whimpered, her plea spilling into his ear, her eyes gleaming with a mix of desperation and longing that sent shivers down his spine.

“Don’t stop, what?” Rafe whispered in return, a teasing edge to his tone as his hips slowed, savouring the moment, every heartbeat stretching the intensity. It was a familiar game for them—one he relished, one that drove him wild with both power and attraction. 

He knew he was being mean, pushing her just enough to make the tension thrum in the air between them. Each moment spent watching her struggle with the overwhelming desire to have him fully, to feel complete release—it drove him to the brink of madness. He wanted to see her at her most vulnerable, to hear her voice crack as she surrendered completely.

“Please! Please don’t stop!” she cried out, her wide eyes locked onto his, a shimmering mixture of desperation and dauntlessness as the band of tension within her continued to stretch taut, ready to snap. 

That earnest plea ignited something deep within him—it was both a challenge and an invitation. Her vulnerability was a tapestry woven with threads of longing that pulled at every longing instinct in him. He could feel the urgency in the way her body twitched beneath him, her need palpable and irresistible. 

Rafe’s breath quickened as he paused for just an instant, relishing her desperation, before diving back into the depths of their connection. There was no holding back now; the tension that had been building couldn’t be contained any longer. He thrust into her with renewed vigour, each movement a primal dance of shared need, a rhythm that echoed with the promise of release. 

Their world shrank to just the two of them, an intoxicating moment where nothing else mattered—no pasts intertwined or futures were uncertain, just the fierce heat they created together. The boundaries of their beings melded into each other, collapsing under the force of their passion.

In that engulfing haze, as she gasped and moaned beneath him, he pushed them both closer to the edge, where pleasure and surrender waited. He could feel her nearing her peak, the once-stretched band about to snap—a glorious release that promised to shatter them both and send them soaring into oblivion. Rafe wasn’t sure what would come next, but the journey to that ultimate climax was a ride he never wanted to end.

In that moment, Rafe felt the last threads of restraint snap. He was too far gone to care about the world outside, too consumed by her need and the intoxicating energy that enveloped them. His muscles tensed like a bowstring, taut and ready to release. Without breaking his rhythm, he lifted her leg from his shoulder, and with a firm grip, he repositioned it around his waist, feeling her skin beneath his fingers—a reminder of the closeness they shared.

As her legs tightened around him, she began to rock back and forth, surrendering completely to the rhythm between them. Each movement sent shockwaves through her body, and she cried out breathlessly, “Oh—oh! Shit! RAFE!” The sound of her voice, filled with unbridled lust, spiralled into the air, uncaring of neighbours or the world outside.

Rafe gritted his teeth, a growl rumbling deep within his chest as he pressed his face against her neck. The way she called his name—a raw, unfiltered plea—sent his self-control spiralling into oblivion. The weight of passion bore down on him until he could barely breathe. He pulled away slightly, locking his gaze onto hers, the intensity palpable between them. “Do that again, I’m so close.” he murmured, watching the way her pupils danced, dilated with want.

“Rafe!” She whispered hoarsely, her breath fanning across his face, a potent mix of desperation and affection evident in every quaver of her voice. 

At that moment, something primal snapped inside him. It was as if the world beyond their cocoon faded entirely, leaving only his aching desire for her. All of his frustrations, his hurt, evaporated as he focused solely on the beautiful woman in his arms. Igniting with a fierce need, he leaned down, capturing her lips with a rough, deep kiss that robbed them both of air. He poured everything into that moment, a wildness he could no longer contain, driving his hips into her with a relentless tempo.

Her cry against his lips was music to his ears, the brutal force of his desire pulling her deeper into the swell of pleasure. “Fuuuuuuuuuuuck!” she gasped, a symphony of ecstasy that swallowed them both in its intensity.

He lost himself in her response, swallowing her cry with a deep, hungry moan as their mouths moved against one another, urgent and needy. His hands cradled her head, fingers tangling in her hair as he kissed her with fervour, desperately trying to gather all the pieces of her within him. 

But in that moment, still hunger gnawed at him, an insatiable craving that urged him to go deeper, to explore further. He pulled back slightly, depriving them both of just a breath, before capturing her lower lip between his teeth and biting it gently, a possessive yet tender gesture filled with the promise of more.

Every ounce of his being was consumed by her, the air thick with desire and longing. This wasn’t just a union of bodies; it was a raw exchange of souls, a moment that would bind them forever in the relentless tide of passion that swept through them. As he surrendered to that need, Rafe knew there was no going back, no restraint left between them—only the exhilarating plunge into a world that belonged to them alone.

“Rafe—I can’t—I can’t take it—” Her voice trembled, nuanced with both pleasure and desperation, as tears welled in her eyes. She shook her head and sobbed softly, her nails digging into his shoulders, anchoring herself as if that small contact could ground her.

“You can,” Rafe murmured against her lips, his breath hot with unyielding conviction. His arms wrapped around her body, holding her in place, his strength a stark contrast to the storm of emotions swirling within her. He knew better than anyone: she could handle more than she thought possible. Even if every nerve in her body screamed to stop, he would be there to push her further.

“Fuck—Rafe—I—I can’t—” she cried out again, words barely escaping her lips as her eyes rolled back, overwhelmed by the sensations threatening to consume her. The muscles in her thighs shook around his hips, a frantic testament to the struggle within.

“Sweetheart…” His voice was a whisper against her neck as he leaned in closer. “You can. Remember that time you took me all night when you were high? You can’t tell me you can’t take me like this when you’re sober.” 

A teasing edge coloured his words, a playful challenge that shattered the last remnants of her resistance. 

She sobbed at his insistence, each word reverberating through her, amplifying the overwhelming pleasure coursing through her body. Even in her nearly paralyzed state of ecstasy, her hips bucked instinctively, fueled by the memory of their past.

“Rafe…” Her voice was a breathy whisper, caught between surrender and confusion.

“There we go…” he murmured, a sly grin creeping onto his lips, sensing that she was teetering on a precipice of both despair and desire. 

With a deliberate control that both excited and scared her, Rafe began to pick up his pace again. He knew she was reaching her limits, but it was a limit he was determined to push further. His fingers dug deeper into her skin, holding her in place, a steady presence grounding her amidst the tempest of sensations. 

“Don’t tell me you can’t take it now,” he whispered against her ear, his breath warm and inviting. “Don't you want to be a good girl for me, baby?”

In a haze of longing and exhaustion, she nodded desperately, her legs dangling in the air as she gazed up at him with eyes clouded by lust.

“Good girl.” His voice was laced with approval, a honeyed edge enveloping each word. He captured her lips once more, kissing her roughly and hungrily as his pace quickened, igniting a deeper passion that coursed through them both. Rafe’s body felt molten, every muscle straining at the edges of his control, a taut wire ready to snap.

As the heat of their shared intimacy enveloped them, she reached down, fingers grasping his ass, coaxing a shudder from him that sent ripples of pleasure up her spine. Rafe stilled for a moment, groaning loudly into her ear, surrendering to the high of their connection, his body shaking with intensity. 

“Tell me you won’t leave me,” she whispered against his lips as he felt himself teetering on the edge of his own release, the world narrowing to just the two of them.

Shit… He hadn’t expected the vulnerability behind her words. Especially not now. Not while he was still coming down from that intoxicating high, his entire body sensitive and alive. 

Rafe buried his face in the crook of her neck, each deep breath filled with warmth as he groaned, “...never leaving you…” His voice was strained, almost hoarse, the promise lingering heavily in the air, pumping into her to the brim.

“What was that?” Her grip tightened around the back of his neck, pulling him closer, insistent.

Damnit… The way she tightened her hold reminded him of the depth of their bond, making him tremble with an intensity that had nothing to do with their physical connection. He pulled his head away, lifting it to meet her gaze, his heavy-lidded eyes searching her face, mere inches apart now.

“I’m not leaving you. Ever,” he breathed, the words spoken softly yet firmly against her lips, a vow built on the foundations of intimacy they had forged together.

She smiled, a grin bursting forth with satisfaction. “Good. 'Cause you’re mine.” 

The room was thick with the heavy silence of lingering tension. Rafe lay sprawled on her breasts, his body utterly spent from their recent exertions. He glanced at her, frustration flaring in his chest, but all he could muster was a weary sigh that echoed like a sigh of defeat. God, you insufferable woman…, he thought, staring down at her, feeling the weight of his exhaustion pressing down on him like a solid wall. 

He could feel her gaze piercing through the dim light, unrelenting, demanding a response that he simply didn’t have the energy to give. The corners of his lips twitched into a faint, disbelieving grimace. 

“What?” She asked in confusion, wondering how she managed to ruin his mood this time.

His deadpan expression seemed to suck the life out of her playful banter. Her smile, once bright and teasing, faltered under the weight of his indifference.

 “You’re still talking,” he mumbled with a fatigue-laden tone, rolling away from her—finally breaking free from the intimate confines of their close quarters. 

His body protested at the slightest movement, each joint aching as he shifted, a reminder of how tightly he had held himself through it all. Sweat clung to him like a second skin, and his breath was still ragged in his chest, refusing to be tamed. Was it the heat of the moment or just sheer tension? Either way, it rent his thoughts asunder like a fraying rope.

With another deep sigh, he collapsed onto his back beside her, flinging an arm over his eyes, desperate to escape the world for just a five-minute reprieve. 

“And?” she teased, her voice infusing the air with a playful challenge. “I thought you liked hearing my voice.”

He felt her presence beside him, the warmth radiating from her body still fresh in his memory. “I’m starting to question that right now,” He said bitterly, the exhaustion stinging his every nerve. “Can’t you shut up for five minutes? I’m tired.” His voice came out muffled and strained, the groan escaping his lips a testament to his weariness.

A scoff escaped her, rich with indignation. He could imagine the way she tossed her hair over her shoulder, an act habitual in moments like these. He felt her rise, the rustle of fabric breaking the spell of silence as she reached for her robe to drape over her sweat-slicked skin.

“Why do you talk to me like that, Rafe?” Her words slipped out softly, tinged with something deeper, something vulnerable that cut through the air like a shard of glass.

He turned slightly, catching the edge of her expression; the way her eyes searched his, desperate for a glimpse beneath the surface. In that moment, he understood that it was never just playful banter or teasing. She sought something more—answers, connection, clarity in a world shrouded in ambiguity. 

The tension in his chest tightened, a mix of exasperation and an undeniable appreciation for the depth of her soul. But he didn’t have the strength to unravel that knot, not now. Instead, he let silence take the lead, hoping that it would bridge the gap between their tangled hearts, even if just for a moment.

Ah, great. She’s being sensitive again, he thought, a bitterness tugging at the corners of his mind. With a resigned sigh, Rafe opened his eyes, forced to confront the fallout he desperately wanted to avoid. He didn’t want to engage in this conversation—not now, not when sleep was so painfully close yet so overwhelmingly out of reach.

“Like what?” he asked, the fatigue evident in his voice, watching her movements as she gracefully slipped on her robe. It was a sight that usually filled him with warmth, but now it felt like a dismissal, a retreat.

“Like you—like I’m nothing. No one to you.” Her words poured out, unguarded and quivering, as though she was straining against the weight of unarticulated emotions.

The growing darkness in Rafe’s gaze mirrored the frustration brewing within him, a tempest of emotions he was not well-equipped to navigate. His exhaustion morphed into annoyance as he realised that he couldn’t simply close his eyes and escape. No, now he had to confront this. 

“How am I talking to you like you’re nothing? How?” he repeated, his voice edged with irritation, the tiredness making his tone more cutting than he intended.

“You just fucked me and then asked me to shut up and leave you alone. How the hell am I supposed to feel about that, Rafe?” Her disbelief radiated from her, leaving him momentarily stunned.

“I’m not one of your little whores, Rafe. I’m your girlfriend!” The weight of her words hung heavily in the charged air, each syllable a jagged blade that carved deeper into his heart. 

Rafe stared back at her, but instead of the warmth he often felt upon seeing her, he was met with a rising pool of frustration. How could she always manage to pull him into these emotional whirlwinds? How could she navigate him into corners he desperately wished to avoid? It was infuriating yet somehow disarmingly effective. 

He ran a hand through his tousled hair, letting out a deep sigh, grappling with his thoughts. “I told you to shut up and leave me alone because I’m tired,” he replied, forcing himself to keep his voice steady, to remain patient, but the undertone of his annoyance seeped through. “I just want five minutes of silence so I can rest.”

The disbelief in her eyes cut deeper than any insult he could have hurled. Upset flickered across her features as she processed the disconnect between their realities, her heart sinking under the weight of unacknowledged feelings. He could see the hurt reflected back at him, a stark reminder that he was failing to grasp the depth of her vulnerability.

The room was heavy with unspoken words, the shadows of earlier emotions lurking in every corner. Rafe sat on the couch, wrestling with the growing tension that seemed to envelop the space. He watched as she stood before him, her expression a bittersweet mixture of disbelief and hurt. It was a look that twisted something deep within him, an echo of the connection they once shared, now frayed and worn from misunderstanding.

“Yeah. Okay,” she murmured, her voice barely loud enough to shatter the silence, but its resonance lingered, wrapping around her heart like a vice. She turned away, exhaustion pooling in her chest, and made her way back into their room, each step heavy with dejection.

Rafe cursed silently, irritation bubbling just beneath the surface. Reluctantly, he pushed himself off the couch, every bit of him resisting the urge to simply retreat into solitude. He didn’t want to delve into feelings or sift through the rubble of emotions tonight. All he desired was the comforting embrace of sleep, but now he had to follow her—of all things, fantastic.

He stepped into the bedroom, where she lay on her side of the bed, lost in her thoughts, the space between them thick with unspoken words. Rafe’s heart sank as he observed her, a mix of dejection and annoyance swirling within him. Why was it so hard to communicate? Why did every encounter feel like a minefield?

Moments passed in silence, the tension palpable, until he finally broke it. “Are you seriously upset right now?” His voice was weary, tinged with annoyance as he sought to bridge the chasm of misunderstanding.

“I’m not upset,” she whispered softly, the words a fragile shield against his scrutiny.

He stared at her for a few seconds, feeling frustration creep up his spine like icy fingers. Leaning back, he ran a hand over his face, exhaling sharply. “Bullshit. That’s your upset, moping tone.” He pushed himself off the edge of the bed, striding closer.

“I’m not moping,” she replied quietly, keeping her back turned, a wall of defensiveness built between them.

Rafe let out an exasperated grunt, settling himself on the edge of the bed next to her while deliberately maintaining a space between them. “Then what are you doing?” he asked, tiredness clouding his voice. He felt powerless to penetrate the veil of her silence.

“I’m sleeping,” she muttered, her voice barely a whisper, an attempt to ignore the turbulence between them.

Rafe rolled his eyes, a deep sigh escaping his lips. Frustrating. It felt as if she wanted to ignite a conflict, to keep the fire of their argument stoked instead of allowing it to die.

 “Cut the crap, sweetheart. You’re not asleep,” he retorted. “You’re upset because I told you to shut up for five minutes.”

“Oh? So you do know,” she shot back, her eyes fixed ahead as if refusing to acknowledge the storm raging within her.

“I’m not an idiot, okay? I can tell when you’re being moody and mopey and stuff.” His voice was sharper than he intended, but the truth left him raw. “I just don’t understand why you got so upset about it. I was tired, and I wanted to rest. Is it that big of a deal?”

Finally, her resolve slipped away as she turned to look at him, her gaze probing and unwavering. For a moment, their connection crackled with an intensity that bordered on something sacred yet shattered. He had to contain the urge to roll his eyes again; frustration twisted in his gut as he tried to make sense of everything unfolding.

His body longed for sleep, but his heart refused to surrender to oblivion while she lay there—a tangle of sadness, anger, and confusion. “Can’t you just get over it?” he asked tiredly, searching her eyes for a flicker of understanding.

A softness enveloped her expression as she smiled gently, a serene resolution washing over her. Reaching up, she caressed his cheek, her eyes trying desperately to memorise the contours of his face, the warmth radiating from her touch piercing through his armour. “Okay, baby,” she whispered softly, and in that moment, the air shifted, the tension momentarily dissipating.

Rafe felt his heart race, a pulse of warmth igniting within him at her gentle gesture. The subtle shift in her expression caught him off guard, and the tender timbre of her voice almost managed to chase away the shadows of exhaustion that had loomed over him.

“Are you being sarcastic?” he asked quietly, leaning into her touch, curiosity dancing in his eyes. 

“No,” she replied softly, shaking her head, a small smile lifting the corners of her mouth. She sat up, propping herself against the headboard, her eyes a steady gaze that seemed to trace every contour of his face. “I mean it. You won’t have to deal with that anymore.”

As Rafe watched her move, confusion mingled with a flicker of hope in his eyes. What exactly was she trying to convey? The persistent doubts in his mind battled with the warmth he felt in her presence. He licked his dry lips, feeling a tightening in his chest as she stared at him with an intensity that dug deep into his very being.

“So we’re good?” he managed to ask, his voice rasping like gravel, desperation tinged with a fragile hope.

“Yeah, baby. We’re good,” she affirmed, a gentle nod accompanying her words. She kept her gaze trained on him, almost as if she were trying to imprint every detail into her memory, her thumb brushing delicately against his cheek.

Christ, She’s acting weird, Rafe thought to himself, unable to shake off the sense of urgency that accompanied her additional attention. It was as if she were both a comfort and an enigma, and that reality weighed heavy on him. He leaned against her hand again, lost in the depths of her gaze, wondering why she was looking at him as if he were a fragile treasure, one she feared might slip away.

“Stop saying it like that,” he whispered, a pleading tone breaking through as he struggled to articulate the subtleties of the moment. 

“Like what?” she asked softly, curiosity mingling with concern, her brows furrowing slightly. 

He found it difficult to frame his thoughts into words. It went beyond mere expression; it was a feeling that coursed through him. “I don't know. Like… like you’re never gonna see me again,” he replied, his voice nearly inaudible, each word laced with unguarded vulnerability as his eyes bore into hers.

She smiled softly in response, her eyes shimmering with mixed emotions that spanned from tenderness to a hint of melancholy. “Go to sleep, Rafe.” 

He let out a weary sigh, the weight of exhaustion crashing over him like waves against a jagged shore. Why did it have to feel like this? He did not relish the thought of confronting these emotions while she continued to look at him with such intensity. Too damn tired—his mind a jumble of emotions that felt foreign to him.

With a slight grimace, he leaned in to press a gentle yet firm kiss against her cheek. It was an instinctive gesture, but as he rolled onto his side, turning his back to her, he felt the sting of vulnerability burn through him. “Goodnight,” he muttered, the words trailing off as if they carried the weight of all that remained unsaid between them.

As she lay there, a pained smile tugging at her lips, she watched him—a solid back turned against her, the sound of his steady breathing marking the passage of time. She could almost hear the unvoiced thoughts swirling in his mind, and it twisted her heart. She waited for him to drift into sleep, wrestling with the silent ache that ached in the distance created by their unbridgeable emotional chasm. It was a bittersweet moment, one that would linger long after the lights went out, forever imprinted in her memory.

The night draped its heavy cloak over Rafe as sleep swept him away, exhaustion wrapping around him like a familiar blanket. Every muscle in his body, still sore from the intimacy they shared, felt heavy, and within moments, he was deep in slumber, breathing steadily as the world faded away.

Meanwhile, in the silence of the house, she moved like a ghost. Each action was deliberate and hushed as she packed her belongings, the soft sound of zippers and fabric whispering against the stillness. The bittersweet ache in her heart conflicted with the urgency of her decision. She slipped into her car, the engine’s low growl breaking the quiet, and drove away from the house that held both precious and painful memories.

Back inside, Rafe remained blissfully unaware of her departure, cocooned in the warmth of sleep until an hour had passed. Slowly, clarity seeped into his consciousness, dispelling the grogginess. He turned, instinctively reaching for her, craving her warmth beside him, only to find the sheets cold and empty. Confusion pierced through the drowsiness, and he blinked against the shadows of the room, the absence of her presence sending an icy shiver down his spine.

“Sweetheart?” he called out, his voice hoarse and thick with sleep. Silence echoed in response, deepening the pit of unease forming in his stomach. Throwing the covers aside, he climbed out of bed, frustration bubbling under the surface. With heavy steps, he opened the bedroom door and ventured into the darkness of the house.

“Baby?” he tried again, his voice rising in volume, infused with desperation. Each empty room he entered increased his confusion, every corner he peered into yielding only shadows. Jesus Christ… where was she?

Rafe's heart raced as he searched every nook, each room offering no trace of her. Panic began to weave its way through his mind, tightening its grip as he ran a frustrated hand through his tousled hair. The house felt emptier with each passing moment, the silence wrapping around him like a suffocating shroud.

Back at the entrance, he paused, scanning the area for any clue, any sign that she had been there. No. No, this couldn’t be happening. You’re not leaving me. You wouldn’t. But the truth weighed heavily on his chest; he felt it suffocating him, each second that passed churned his stomach around a pit of anxiety.

With renewed vigour, he ricocheted back through the house, tearing through spaces that had once felt like home. He looked under beds, behind chairs, everywhere his mind could conjure up—but the search was met with stark rejection. Just as hopelessness began to take root, something caught his eye on the kitchen counter.

A piece of paper. The familiarity of her handwriting ushered in a wave of dread as he approached it, heart pounding in his ears. The words were like daggers, piercing through the fog of confusion and anger:

 Goodbye, Rafe. I’ll keep your secrets.

He blinked in disbelief, reading it again, his mind struggling to process the reality of it. The world around him blurred as he clenched the paper, white-knuckled with rage and hurt. 

With a sudden, primal need to act, he crushed the note in his fist and hurled it to the floor, a torrent of curses spilling from his lips, silence mocked him in return. The ache in his chest twisted tightly under his rib cage; he wanted to run after you, but where? How could he start seeking someone he didn’t even know where to find? 

In desperation, he searched for his phone, turning the living room upside down in his frantic quest, but it eluded him. His gaze caught a clock on the wall—its steady ticking serving as a cruel reminder of time slipping away. It was a little past eight in the evening, and the impending darkness loomed ominously.

His heart sank further as the implications settled in. He felt like a man drowning, alone in the vast expanse of uncertainty, and the realisation struck him like a blow: 

You had chosen to leave.

He ran a hand down his face, the weight of his worry settling deep into his chest. His thoughts raced as he paced the room, desperate to figure out the best place to begin. He didn’t need a text. He didn’t need a voicemail. He needed her. He needed to hear her voice, to know she was safe.

Rafe’s mind churned with every worst-case scenario imaginable. She was out there, somewhere, and she was alone. That thought clawed at him, driving him nearly mad.

The phone rang once.

Then twice.

Three times.

Four.

No answer.

His heart sank further with each unanswered ring, frustration bubbling to the surface. He tossed the phone onto the couch, raking his hands through his hair. Where was she? Why wasn’t she picking up?

Meanwhile, she sat in her car, parked at the edge of the OBX bridge. Her hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, indecision weighing heavily on her shoulders. She had been ready to leave, to cross that invisible line and never look back. But then, his face had crept into her thoughts. The memory of his voice, the way he looked at her—it was enough to give her pause.

Rafe sat down heavily on the couch, his foot tapping nervously against the floor. He picked up his phone and dialled her number again, his pulse pounding in his ears. This time, the line connected.

“Hello?” His voice came out rushed, uneven.

On the other end, she sighed softly. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make him close his eyes in relief. She had answered. She was there.

“…Hey,” he said, his voice gentler now, though still laced with a quiet desperation. “Where are you?”

Her silence on the other end was deafening. He leaned forward, gripping the phone as though sheer force could drag the words out of her.

“Are you safe?” he asked, quieter this time.

“Yes.” The word was barely a whisper, reluctant but real.

Rafe exhaled, his shoulders relaxing slightly. She was safe. That was something. But not enough.

“Can you tell me where you’re safe, sweetheart?” His tone was soft but edged with the frustration he couldn’t quite hide.

She hesitated before answering, her voice carrying the weight of her conflict. “At the edge of OBX’s border.”

His eyes flew open, his chest tightening again. The border? Why the hell is she at the border?

“You haven’t crossed it, have you?” he asked, his voice cracking slightly under the strain of his emotions.

Her response was soft, hesitant. “I’m trying to.”

Rafe clenched his jaw, his grip on the phone tightening. She was so close to slipping away, and the thought made his stomach churn.

“Sweetheart,” he said, his voice low and steady, though desperation lingered beneath it. “Don’t. Please, don’t.”

Her head rested against the seat as she closed her eyes, torn between the road ahead and the voice on the line. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the silence heavy with everything they couldn’t bring themselves to say.

Rafe’s entire body went rigid at her words. The silence that followed was deafening, stretching between them like a chasm. He took a deep breath, trying to force down the emotions threatening to explode. His heart was a relentless drumbeat in his chest, each thud more painful than the last.

He swallowed hard, his grip tightening on the phone as he took another breath, trying to rein himself in. Finally, he spoke, his voice steady but laced with barely restrained intensity.

“Turn around,” he said, his tone firm, commanding.

Her response was a broken whisper, the kind of sound that could bring a man to his knees. “I can’t.”

Tears streamed down her face as she spoke, the pain in her voice cutting through him like a blade. His frustration melted away in an instant, replaced by an ache so deep it left him breathless.

Her sobs made his chest tighten. His fist clenched around the phone, the urge to pull her into his arms overwhelming him. But she wasn’t here—she was out there, slipping further away.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice softening, desperation seeping into every word. “Please. Just turn around. Come back to me.”

There was a beat of silence before she spoke again, her words shattering him. “I can’t come back. I can’t do it anymore—I can’t do this anymore.”

Rafe shot to his feet, emotions surging through him like a tidal wave—frustration, desperation, anger, and despair all colliding at once.

“Bullshit!” he barked into the phone, his voice raw with emotion. “You cannot leave me, do you understand me?!”

“Rafe, please—” she cried softly, her voice trembling.

“No!” he snapped, his anger flaring. “You listen to me!”

His voice cracked, his emotions taking over. He was done with the running, the silence, the walls she kept putting up. She couldn’t leave—not this time. He wouldn’t let her.

“You do NOT get to run away,” he growled, his tone harsh but desperate. “Not this time. Tell me why, sweetheart. Why do you keep doing this? Can you even give me a valid reason?!”

Her sobs grew louder, her voice breaking as she finally answered. “I can’t do this anymore, Rafe! You’re so mean to me!”

Her words hit him like a punch to the gut, his breath catching in his throat.

“Mean?” he repeated, his voice dropping, almost disbelieving. “Mean, sweetheart? Is that what you think I am?”

He gritted his teeth, his knuckles whitening as he gripped the phone like a lifeline. He wished—needed—her to be standing in front of him. This distance, this separation, was unbearable.

“Goddamnit,” he growled. “I’m mean, I’m harsh, I’m an asshole. I’ll admit that. But are those really good enough excuses for you to leave me?”

Her response came through choked sobs, each word tearing at his heart. “You’re like that all the time now, Rafe. It hurts me so much when you treat me like that. The only time I feel like you love me is when you’re fucking me. And after that, it’s like you can’t stand me anymore.”

Her voice broke completely, the anguish pouring out. “I can’t… I can’t do it again.”

Rafe stood frozen, her words sinking in like stones, each one pulling him deeper into the abyss. He didn’t respond—not right away. He couldn’t. He had no idea how to fix this, how to pull her back from the edge when she was already so far gone.

And yet, he couldn’t give up. He wouldn’t give up. Not on her. Not on them.

The words hit him low, a blow that knocked the air out of his lungs. His shoulders tensed, and his entire body seemed to tremble with the force of his suppressed emotions. He gritted his teeth so hard it felt like they might crack, his fist tightening around the phone until his knuckles went white.

He hated it when she said things like that. Hated it even more because, deep down, he knew there was truth in her words. And that only made it hurt worse.

“That’s bullshit,” he muttered hoarsely, his throat raw. “You know I love you.”

Her voice came through the line, broken and fragile, a sharp contrast to his. “No, you don’t—”

“Yes, I DO!” he yelled, his frustration boiling over in a fiery burst.

The room felt too small, the air too thick. He couldn’t believe she thought that. Did he really seem so cold, so distant? He thought he had shown her—time and time again—how much she meant to him. And yet, here she was, doubting it, doubting him.

He dragged a hand down his face, trying to steady his breathing, to regain some semblance of control. He didn’t want to yell. He didn’t want to fight. But the thought of her walking away was unbearable.

“Please don’t yell at me, Rafe,” she said, her voice trembling as soft cries broke through.

Damnit.

He squeezed his eyes shut at the sound of her tears, his chest tightening painfully. He hated himself for letting his anger slip, for making her cry when all he wanted was to hold her, to keep her close.

“God…” His voice cracked as he spoke. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, baby. Please don’t cry, okay? I’m not trying to fight with you.” His tone softened to a whisper, thick with desperation.

“I don’t want to fight with you either,” she said softly, sniffling on the other end.

Her words, though quiet, were a relief. He exhaled slowly, the tension in his chest easing just slightly.

“Then don’t leave me,” he said, his voice quieter now, pleading. “Don’t run away just because we get into stupid fights.”

Her sigh was audible, followed by the sound of another quiet sob. “You know it’s not just that.”

“I know that!” he snapped, frustration sparking again before he forced himself to rein it in.

He knew all the reasons why she was saying this—why she felt the way she did. He knew how cold he could be after their fights, how he sometimes treated her like she was just… there. A fleeting thing, instead of the person who mattered most.

And he hated himself for it.

“I know, sweetheart,” he said, his voice raw and cracking. “I know I’ve been… distant. I know I’ve hurt you. But god, I can’t lose you. Not like this. Please, just—don’t go.”

The line was quiet for a moment, her soft cries the only sound he could hear. It was a sound that tore through him, leaving him feeling more helpless than ever.

“Rafe—”

Her voice was barely a whisper, a fragile plea breaking through the tension.

“No.” He cut her off immediately, his voice sharp and commanding. His jaw tightened as he forced himself to swallow the rising panic threatening to overtake him.

“Please,” he said, softer this time. His tone was strained, nearly cracking under the weight of his desperation. “Just listen to me. You know we can work on the other stuff, right? We can fix this. I know we can.”

She hesitated on the other end, her breath catching in her throat. “I don’t know,” she said, her voice trembling. “It’s not just you. It’s me. I’m—I’m messed up, Rafe. I’m too sensitive. I know I burden you, and I’m sorry. For everything. For hurting you. For hitting you last night. I shouldn’t have—”

Her words dissolved into soft, broken sobs, each one slicing through him like a blade.

“You’re not a burden, sweetheart. You never have been,” he whispered, closing his eyes as if shutting out the world would make this moment easier.

But it didn’t.

The image of her last night, the flash of pain in her eyes before her hand struck him, replayed in his mind. And it hurt—not because she had hit him, but because of the anguish behind it.

“Do you really think I can’t handle you?” he asked, his voice quiet but heavy with emotion.

“It’s not about that,” she whispered after a moment. “You shouldn’t have to. I—I’m sorry, Rafe. I’d rather drive myself off this bridge than ever hurt you like that again.”

Her voice cracked with emotion, and the words hit him like a freight train.

“Stop talking like that!” he shouted, his voice cracking as he lost control. “Stop saying I’d be better off without you! You don’t get to decide that for me!”

There was a silence on the line, broken only by her soft, muffled sobs.

“Yes, I do,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “And I’ve decided to leave. Because we can’t keep doing this. We’re not—we don’t belong together, Rafe.”

His heart felt like it had been ripped from his chest. Her words were a dagger, twisting deeper with every syllable.

“Bullshit,” he muttered, his voice low and raw. His grip on the phone tightened, his knuckles white as his anger and pain swirled together.

“You don’t get to decide that. You don’t get to say you love me one minute and then leave the next because things get hard. That’s not how this works!”

“Rafe—” she started, her voice shaking.

“No! Listen to me!” he nearly shouted, his desperation bubbling over.

He could feel himself unravelling, but he didn’t care. She wasn’t going to give up on them, not if he had anything to say about it.

“I love you!” he said, his voice loud and clear, his chest aching with the force of those three words.

The silence on the line stretched for a moment. He could hear her soft breaths, could imagine the way her tears clung to her lashes, her lip trembling.

He took advantage of the pause, his voice dropping to something softer, something raw.

“I love you, sweetheart. I really do. You’re not a burden. You don’t hurt me.” His voice cracked again, but he pressed on. “I don’t want you to leave. I can’t lose you.”

Her silence was deafening, but he could feel her wavering, the barriers she had built around herself beginning to crumble.

“I don’t care if we fight sometimes,” he continued, his voice steady now. “I don’t give a damn about the bad days. I still love you. That doesn’t change.”

Another soft breath escaped her, a sound so quiet he almost missed it. But it was there—an acknowledgment, a crack in her resolve.

“I love you,” he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. “Please don’t leave, okay?.”

The line was quiet, but he could feel it. She was still there. And for now, that was enough.

The question hung in the air, sharp and piercing, breaking the silence between them.

“If I come back,” she asked, her voice trembling but resolute, “will you never see Sofia again?”

He stiffened, his shoulders going rigid at her words. He had been expecting this—had known it was coming—but that didn’t make it any easier to face.

His jaw tightened as he stared at the wall, biting the inside of his lip hard enough to taste blood. He couldn’t answer right away. The weight of her question pressed down on him, heavy and unrelenting.

He didn’t want to make a promise he wasn’t sure he could keep.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally spoke, his voice low and measured.

“I won’t see her again without you knowing about it.”

The words left his mouth carefully, but he already knew they weren’t enough.

On the other end of the line, her heart sank. Her grip on the phone tightened, her knuckles white as the truth settled over her like a cold, suffocating blanket.

“Goodbye, Rafe,” she said, her tone hollow and final.

Before he could say another word, the line went dead.

He stared at the phone in his hand, his chest tightening as the realisation of what just happened hit him.

“Fuck!” he growled, the curse ripping from his throat as he hurled his phone against the wall. The sharp crack of plastic breaking filled the room, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the silence she left behind.

He stood there for a moment, his breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps. His fists clenched at his sides as he tried to compose himself, but the knot in his stomach only tightened.

She was gone.

She had actually done it.

“No,” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head as if the motion could dispel the truth. “She wouldn’t. She wouldn’t leave me like that.”

But deep down, he knew she would.

She was driving now, crossing the border, her jaw set and her eyes blurred with tears. Her phone lay discarded in the passenger seat, and her hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly they ached.

No matter how much he said he loved her, no matter how many times he swore she was the only one, she couldn’t shake the shadow of Sofia.

Sofia—the name that haunted her, the specter that lingered in every kiss, every touch, every whispered promise.

She couldn’t live like this, always wondering, always feeling like the other woman.

And so she drove. Away from him, away from the pain, away from a love that felt more like a battlefield than a safe haven.

Back in the room, he sank to the floor, his back against the wall as the weight of her absence pressed down on him. He told himself she would cool off, that she’d change her mind and come back.

She had to.

But the hollow ache in his chest whispered otherwise.

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

4 YEARS LATER

A few years had passed since she left the Outer Banks, but now, she was back—not to stay, not to reconnect, but to sever one last tie to her past. Selling her family’s estate was a necessary step, one she hoped to take quietly. She had no intention of seeing him again.

Rafe didn’t know she was back. He had stopped searching for her long ago, though the ache of her absence had never fully faded. He told himself he’d moved on, convinced himself that looking for her only prolonged the pain.

Tonight, he was at a gallery opening—nothing more than an excuse to drink expensive champagne and network with a few clients. The crowd was pretentious, the art unremarkable, but it was better than sitting at home drowning in memories.

Across the room, she stood by a painting, her head tilted slightly as she studied the contrasting reds on the canvas. She held a champagne glass in one hand, her posture composed and professional.

Rafe spotted her from the bar, and everything inside him froze.

Even after all this time, even from behind, he knew it was her.

For a moment, he couldn’t move. He stood there, gripping his drink, trying to process the surge of emotions threatening to overwhelm him. Anger. Longing. Pain. Relief.

He hadn’t expected to see her, but now that she was here, he couldn’t stay away.

Straightening his coat, Rafe made his way across the gallery, his footsteps steady but his heart racing.

She didn’t notice him at first, lost in thought as she stared at the painting. Her silhouette was still the same, though there was something different about her—an air of detachment, a shield he hadn’t seen before.

“Good color choice,” he said softly, stopping beside her.

Her entire body stiffened at the sound of his voice. Her grip on the champagne glass tightened, but she didn’t turn to look at him.

“I knew I’d run into you eventually,” he added, his tone casual, though his chest felt tight. “You’re back in town, huh?”

Her voice came out steady, though she couldn’t bring herself to meet his gaze. “I’m not staying.”

The words hit him harder than he expected, even though he had braced himself for something like this.

“Why are you here, then?” he asked, his voice quieter now.

She took a deep breath, willing herself to stay calm. “I’m here to sell my family’s estate.”

He swallowed hard, his jaw tightening. The thought of her leaving again, of her cutting ties to this place, made his stomach churn.

“Didn’t know you were selling,” he said, his tone laced with quiet bitterness.

“Well, I have no use for it anymore,” she replied, her voice devoid of emotion. “It’s just millions of dollars sitting there.”

He wanted to snap back, to say something that would shatter the cold distance between them, but he held himself back. Fighting wouldn’t bring her closer.

They stood in silence for a moment, the sounds of the gallery fading into the background. Finally, he broke the quiet.

“Where are you going after this?”

She hesitated, cursing herself for answering. “I’m staying here for a week. Then I’m leaving after the deal is done.”

The words were like a knife to his chest. She was giving him a time limit, a countdown to when she’d be gone again.

Rafe’s hands clenched at his sides as he stared at the painting in front of them, his mind racing. He couldn’t let her leave without saying what he hadn’t said years ago.

But he also knew she wasn’t ready to hear it—not yet.

Jesus. A week?

His heart twisted painfully at the thought. Just a week. She was only sticking around for a week.

He clenched his jaw, swallowing the lump rising in his throat. He felt an almost desperate need to keep the conversation going, to ask her more questions, as if somehow, the words might tether her to this place, to him.

“Moving where?” he asked quietly, the restraint in his voice barely holding back the storm beneath.

“Back home,” she said curtly, her tone detached and sharp.

The ache in his chest deepened. The word home felt like a knife twist. He longed for her to look at him, to give him some glimpse of the person he had known so well, loved so deeply. But she wouldn’t. She kept her eyes on the glass of champagne in her hand, refusing to meet his gaze.

His hands tensed, the frustration building. His jaw worked as he fought to contain the anger and hurt bubbling inside him.

“What, to your fiancé?” The bitterness in his voice spilled over before he could stop it.

She inhaled deeply, staring down at the shimmering liquid in her glass. She shook her head slightly, her lips pressing into a thin line.

“That’s none of your business, Rafe,” she said, her tone cold, distant.

Rafe’s eyes darkened, the name on her lips like a slap. Not in the way it used to be, with warmth or affection, but clipped, impersonal, like he was a stranger.

“None of my business?” he repeated, his voice rising slightly, the trigger clear in his expression.

She was speaking to him as if the last four years hadn’t happened, as if they’d never meant anything at all.

His body turned fully toward her now, and he leaned in, his frustration evident in the way his shoulders tensed, his presence demanding her attention.

“How about we take this outside?” His voice was low but heated, the edge sharp enough to cut.

She stiffened, her gaze darting away, her shoulders drawing inward. “Absolutely not,” she murmured, her voice barely audible, still refusing to look at him.

Rafe scoffed, his fists clenching by his sides. He muttered under his breath, the word Jesus barely audible but laden with exasperation.

His eyes flicked around the room, noticing how heads were beginning to turn, curious glances cast in their direction.

“Will you keep it down? People are starting to look,” she hissed, her voice sharp but low, her lips curving into a forced smile for the onlookers as she glanced around nervously.

“I don’t care,” he snapped back, his voice taut with irritation.

He straightened up, his hand moving on instinct, reaching out to grab her elbow, to pull her away from the crowd, away from the scrutiny.

But she jerked her arm away before he could touch her. Her sharp motion and the glare she shot him stung more than he cared to admit.

“What are you doing?” she said harshly, her voice tinged with embarrassment, her eyes darting around.

“Just—” Rafe bit out, running a hand through his hair, trying to steady himself, to rein in the fire burning in his chest. He exhaled sharply, lowering his voice.

“Just come with me, okay? We’ve got like five dozen people staring at us right now.”

“And whose fault is that, Mr. Loud-Mouth?” she hissed back, sarcasm dripping from her words.

She downed the rest of her champagne in one fluid motion, grabbed her purse, and stormed out, leaving him standing there.

Rafe’s jaw clenched as he watched her walk away. There it was—that fiery, stubborn, infuriatingly bratty side of her that he hated to admit he loved. He had missed it, damn it.

Without a second thought, he followed her, catching up quickly and grabbing her wrist.

“What the fuck? Let go of me!” she snapped, glaring at the back of his head as he pulled her through the corridor toward a more private space.

He ignored her protests, his grip firm but not harsh. His silence spoke volumes. He was too frustrated, too wound up to argue in the middle of a crowded exhibition.

They stopped in front of an unoccupied office, and Rafe pulled her inside, shutting the door firmly behind them.

“What the fuck, Rafe? I thought we were going outside! Open the door!” Her voice was sharp, her breathing uneven as she backed away from him, her chest heaving.

“Not when we have half the damn room watching us like we’re on some daytime soap opera!” he snapped, his frustration spilling over.

He locked the door behind him with a sharp click, leaning against it for a moment before turning to face her.

Finally. Finally, he allowed himself to look at her—really look at her.

She took a step back, her breathing shaky, her heart pounding. She hadn’t seen those piercing blue eyes in four years, and now they pinned her in place, unrelenting and full of everything she was trying to avoid.

“Open the fucking door, Rafe,” she said, her voice trembling, the words softer, hoarser now.

Her hands clutched her purse tightly, and she felt the walls around her heart beginning to crack.

But Rafe stood firm, his gaze locked on hers. His jaw tightened, but he didn’t move, didn’t falter.

“Not yet,” he said, his voice low, steady.

The air between them was heavy, charged with the weight of years of longing, anger, and the things left unsaid. And for the first time in years, there was no escape.

The room was heavy with silence, yet the air between them buzzed like a live wire.

He swallowed hard, his throat dry, his pulse erratic as his eyes finally drank her in. She stood a few feet away, her back turned, leaning on the desk with her palms pressed flat against its surface. Her head hung low, the dark waves of her hair cascading down her back.

The years had changed her. Her hair was longer, her frame leaner, her movements more poised. She had grown more refined in the time they had spent apart.

But she was still her.

Still the same fiery, stubborn, maddeningly beautiful woman he had fallen for so completely four years ago. The woman who had consumed him, heart and soul.

He took a tentative step forward, his fists clenching tightly at his sides as if holding himself back. His instinct, the overwhelming need to reach out to her, threatened to overpower him.

Behind her, he could see the subtle rise and fall of her shoulders with each deep breath she took. The black fabric of her dress hugged her in all the ways he remembered, every curve seared into his memory.

His jaw tightened. His chest ached. God, he thought, she’s so close, but it’s not close enough.

She shifted slightly, her hands trembling as they gripped the edge of the desk.

“Fuck,” she whispered under her breath, barely audible.

His heart clenched. He could see it—the way she was struggling to maintain her composure, to keep him at arm’s length. Her walls were high, and he hated them.

He stepped closer, each movement careful and deliberate. He didn’t want to scare her, didn’t want her to bolt. He was right behind her now, the faintest hint of her perfume wrapping around him like a memory he couldn’t shake.

Every fiber of his being screamed for him to close the gap, to touch her, to pull her into his arms. He wanted it all back—the laughter, the fights, the mornings tangled in sheets, the nights spent whispering secrets only they knew.

Her voice broke the silence again, a whispered chant of frustration.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…”

She buried her face in her hands, her shoulders sagging as if the weight of everything was too much.

He couldn’t take it anymore. The tension, the distance, the ache. He reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against the back of her arm. The contact sent a jolt through him, the briefest reminder of what it felt like to touch her.

But she flinched as though burned.

“Don’t.”

Her voice was sharp as she pushed his hand away, circling the desk with purpose. Now facing him, her hands settled on her hips, and her eyes locked onto his with a familiar fire.

He let his hand fall to his side, his fingers curling into a fist once more. Her defiance, her resistance, her damn stubbornness—it was maddening. And yet, it was what he had loved most about her.

Her gaze bore into him, unflinching.

“What do you want, Rafe?” she asked, her tone laced with exasperation and exhaustion.

He clenched his jaw, running a hand through his hair as his frustration threatened to spill over. There was so much he wanted to say, to ask.

He wanted to demand answers. Why had she left? Why hadn’t she looked back? Why was she selling the estate?

He wanted to beg her to leave her fiancé, to come back to him, to give them another chance.

But the way she stood there, her voice cold and detached, as if his wants and feelings didn’t matter—as if he didn’t matter—it shattered something inside him.

He met her gaze, his voice hoarse and raw when he finally spoke.

“You.”

Her breath hitched, but her expression didn’t soften. Instead, she groaned, her hand lifting to press against her forehead.

“Jesus,” she muttered, her disbelief thick in the air.

And there it was again—the unbearable tension. Four years of silence, of pain, of everything left unsaid, now crowding the small space between them.

“What’s the matter?” he snapped back, defensiveness rising like a tide around him. “You asked, so I’m giving you an answer! You know what I want, Y/N. I want you to come back home. I want to wake up in my bed again. I want to argue with you, fight with you, drive each other crazy like we always did. I. Want. You.”

Her reaction was immediate, filled with a biting sarcasm that cut through the air. “It’s been four years since I left your ass in the dust, Rafe. Have some fucking dignity.” 

He stiffened at her words, the sting of rejection urging him to retaliate. “Don’t you think I haven’t tried?” he shot back, his temper igniting like dry paper in a flame. “Do you know how many other girls I slept with after you left? I lost count.” The raw honesty clawed at him; he hated that he was revealing so much, trying desperately to assert his own importance in her life.

“Oh! Fantastic news! Bravo, Rafe! What a stud!” she clapped mockingly, and her sarcasm was a slap that ignited his fury.

“Jesus—” he growled under his breath, hands clenched into fists, nails digging into his palms. He hated how she could goad him so easily, how every word from her lips felt like a deliberate jab. And yet, there was an uncomfortable truth rattling in the back of his mind: he deserved it. “You think this is funny?” he spat, his voice escalating with each syllable. “You think I was just fine after you left? You just vanished for four goddamned years!”

“I knew it would hurt,” she replied, an unexpected softness mingling with the anger in his heart. “But it was for the best. I did both of us a favor, Rafe.”

“How the hell did you do us both a favor? By leaving me hanging? Giving me no closure? Not letting me see you for four years?” His voice was nearly hoarse from the strain. The rawness of his emotions pushed him to the edge, a storm of pain swirling in his chest.

Her gaze softened as she studied him, a look of genuine pity etched into her features. “I’m sorry it had to be that way,” she said gently.

He hated that she could speak so tenderly while they stood amidst the wreckage of their past. He didn’t want her pity; he wanted to fight, to argue, to reclaim some piece of what they once had. Yet, seeing her look at him with that mournful expression twisted a knife in his gut. “Say it,” he demanded, his voice steady but strained, eyes piercing into hers. 

“Say what?” she asked, confusion flickering across her face.

“That you missed me.” The words tore from him, heavily laden with desperation. Rafe knew he was being unreasonable, even childish, but he couldn’t stem the tide of longing. It felt desperate to ask, but the need swirled around him, suffocating and relentless. All he wanted was to hear her say it, to feel a glimmer of hope that their bond hadn’t faded entirely.

“Rafe—” She sighed deeply, rubbing her temples, as if the very act of addressing him was a burden too great to bear.

The air between them thickened with unspoken words, memories lingering like the scent of rain on dry ground. Here they were, trapped in a room that echoed with the ghosts of love and loss, each yearning for something just beyond reach. 

Rafe’s heart ached with the unfulfilled longing, mirroring the look in her eyes—one that promised both a past they had lost and a future uncertain. He stood across her, jaw tight and teeth gritted. He fixed her with a burning gaze, a mix of irritation and desperation swirling within him. 

“Don’t try to weasel your way out of this, sweetheart. Say. It.” His voice was low and biting, an attempt to inject intimidation into a situation that already felt unbearably charged. 

She regarded him with an unwavering expression that only deepened his frustration. What was she thinking? What lay behind that calm facade? How could she be so composed when he felt like a live wire, ready to snap?

She snapped back, her own irritation bubbling to the surface. "I’m not trying to weasel my way out of anything!"

“Then say it!” he shot back, the heat of his temper flaring once more. This was too much—he was exhausted just standing there, wrestling with an entire world of emotions and memories. He didn’t understand how she could remain so unflappable in the storm swirling around them. Her calmness only fueled his anger, a reminder that she wielded that power over him like a weapon.

“Fine! Fuck! I missed you, okay?” The words burst from her mouth, sharp and raw.

Her outburst hit him like a tidal wave—one of the most gratifying sensations he had ever experienced. It was a crack in her armor, a confirmation that beneath that stoic exterior, she was still human, still affected by him. He took a deep breath, internalizing his triumph, wanting to savor this moment.

“What happened to the ‘I did us both a favor?’” A sly smirk crept onto his lips, complicating the tension in the air.

She gaped at him, disbelief flashing in her eyes. "You can't be serious."

Rafe smirked again, feeling like he was finally making headway after what felt like an eternity of silence between them. Being stubborn was her forte, but he had honed his own sense of persistence through years of their shared history. 

He stepped closer, closing the distance between them, wanting to provoke a reaction. “You still owe me one more thing, sweetheart.”

“I don’t owe you shit. An apology for the way I broke up with you? Yes. Other than that? No way.” She snapped back, moving around the room to keep a safe distance.

Watching her pace around the desk, he felt a surge of frustration mixed with longing. Each step she took away felt like a wound. God, he just wanted to hold her, to pull her close, to bury his face in her hair and inhale that sweet scent he had ached for over the years.

“The way you broke up with me?” he echoed, bitterness lacing his words as he took another step forward, closing the heightening gap between them.

She continued to circle the desk, maintaining her distance, the space becoming a barrier that pained him. “I always felt bad about it,” she confessed, her voice softer now. “It was a shitty thing to do. I should’ve done it face to face, but—I was afraid that I would change my mind.”

Rafe swallowed hard against the rush of emotions that surged through him. He could see the sincerity in her eyes, the weight of regret pressing on her shoulders. “Yeah. It was shitty. Shitty is a mild word for what you did.” His tone remained sharp, even as he closed the gap once more, navigating the complex landscape of his feelings.

And then, she whispered the words he had longed to hear, “I’m sorry, Rafe. I really am.”

A softness enveloped the moment, sincerity radiating from her features as she circled the desk. A wave of raw emotion crashed over Rafe, his mind struggling to process the weight of her apology. Her eyes—those familiar, pleading eyes—were begging him to let it go, to move past the hurt that had festered between them. 

He longed to give in; he ached to release the stubborn grip he had on his anger. But, God, he needed to hear her say it. 

“Not good enough,” he muttered, halting abruptly in his tracks, his gaze and frustration fixed on her as she circled the desk, tantalizingly inching closer.

“What do you want me to do, Rafe? You want me to beg you? To get on my knees and apologize for making the right decision, even if it was in the shittiest way possible?” Her voice dripped with sarcasm, frustration seeping through every word, and Rafe could almost see the tension radiating off her.

“Yeah, actually, that sounds perfect,” he shot back, sarcasm barely masking his irritation. 

This back and forth was exhausting. Their shared history weighed heavily on his heart, suffocating the feelings of anger in the moment. He could feel the tension pulling them taut, and he knew he wasn’t going to be the one to remain coldhearted. 

“Jesus, Rafe—” she groaned, shaking her head in disbelief.

He growled in response, frustration bubbling to the surface once more. This was getting ridiculous. He ran a hand through his hair, forcing himself to take a deep breath, but even that felt too hard in her presence.

“I don’t know why I’m trying to argue with you. You are so goddamn—” he trailed off, searching for the right word that could encapsulate his turmoil.

“What?” she demanded, crossing her arms defiantly as she stared at down, unwavering.

“Infuriating,” he finished bluntly, each syllable tinged with exasperation. 

As he stood there, patience thinning like a fraying rope, Rafe couldn’t help but take stock of her—standing across the desk, arms crossed, defiance painted across her features. He felt a rush of anger mingling with something softer and more familiar, something that drew him closer instead of pushing him away.

He wanted to impulsively throw something, to break the remaining tension, but he stopped himself. Arguing with her seemed futile. Time to change tactics.

“That’s funny; I was about to say the same thing about you,” she retorted, flashing him a sarcastic smile that lit up her eyes. 

That was exactly the opening Rafe had been waiting for. A smirk danced on his lips, his gaze sharpening with a hint of challenge. 

“Yeah?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest, trying to mirror her defiance. “What else do you want to say about me huh?” 

“I think you’re stubborn, unbelievably arrogant, and obnoxious—” she began, frustration lacing her voice as she counted out his faults on her fingers, completely forgetting to maintain the distance she had fought so hard to keep.

“Mhm, keep going,” he muttered softly, faking genuine intrigue.

He should have felt angered by her tirade, but it was exhilarating instead. He didn’t care that her words were shots fired directly at him. All he could focus on were her eyes, her voice, the way she animatedly recounted her grievances against him—when she spoke, she always took the spotlight, and he was helplessly captivated.

“—you’re selfish and the most conceited Kook I’ve ever met, unbelievably anal about the smallest things possible—” As she continued her list, he noticed she was finally allowing the distance to shrink, unaware of the fact that he was moving closer, drawn to her like a moth to flame.

Rafe's heart thundered in his chest as she continued her passionate tirade, listing all the things she hated about him. Each word poured from her lips like molten lava, fierce and unyielding, yet it brought a surge of nostalgia that he couldn't shake off. God, he missed listening to her talk, even if it was a litany of grievances about him. Her voice, once a source of endless irritation, now struck him as intoxicating.

Unable to resist, a smirk curled at the corners of his mouth. He took a small step closer, reveling in the way she was so engrossed in her rant that she didn’t notice his approach at first.

“I mean you—” she groaned in frustration, suddenly halting her speech as she found herself staring up into his towering gaze.

In that moment, Rafe became acutely aware of how close they were, close enough for him to see the flecks of gold dancing in her hazel eyes. The intensity of her gaze sent a thrill racing down his spine, igniting something deep within him. He adored this—her words like fire, spinning around them as he toyed with her emotions, and standing close enough to breathe in the floral sweetness of her perfume.

His smirk grew into a full-blown grin as he leaned down slightly, drawn to her magnetic energy. Yet, she faltered, stuttering as she stepped back, only to bump against the desk behind her. Perhaps it was foolish, but the moment was intoxicating, and he smirked at her moment of surprise.

As she tried to regain her composure, he seized the opportunity. He stepped into her space, utilizing the very limited room between her body and the table, pushing himself closer until she was completely boxed in. There was something undeniably electric about her being trapped between him and the solid surface of the desk, her expression a mix of shock and indignation as he watched her cheeks flush a deeper shade of pink.

“I—” She stammered. Just as she tried to find an escape, he swiftly moved behind her. His hands gripped her waist with a possessive tenderness as he pressed himself flush against her back. Rafe could feel the rapid rhythm of her heartbeat through their shared contact, and his breath hitched at the proximity. Her frustration filled the air like a palpable force as she struggled against him.

“Let me go, Rafe! This isn’t funny!” she snapped shakily, her voice lined with determination as she attempted to pry his arms from around her.

But he reveled in the challenge. He wrapped his arms tighter, pulling her closer against his chest in a way that felt both maddening and comforting. She could feel the strength of his body melding with hers, and it sent shivers racing up her spine. He buried his face into the crook of her neck, inhaling the intoxicating scent of her—so achingly familiar, so achingly missed.

“God, I missed you so much,” he growled against her skin, the words slipping out in a heated whisper.

A shudder coursed through her at his admission, eyes slamming shut as she fought against the overwhelming flood of emotion. “Rafe—please—” she pleaded, grit in her voice, desperation lacing her words.

“Please, what?” he countered, his voice a low rumble, almost teasing, as he savored the moment. He inhaled deeply again, immersing himself in the sweetness of her fragrance that lingered in the air. 

He could hardly believe this was happening. It was as if time had bent just to bring them together again in this heated, chaotic moment. He couldn’t deny that the tantalizing closeness sent a thrill shooting through his veins; he felt alive, solidifying the truth he’d fought so hard to deny.

In an impulsive motion, Rafe shifted his head, pressing his lips against the column of her neck just below her ear, letting them linger there for a tantalizing moment. The heat radiating from her skin was intoxicating, and he knew, deep down, that this was only the beginning of the tempest of feelings threatening to engulf them both.

“Don’t do this. Let go of me.” Her voice wavered, a mix of determination and uncertainty as she squirmed in his strong arms, but Rafe held her tighter.

“Why not?” he murmured against her skin, feeling the tremble of her body resonating through him. Each shiver ignited a deep-seated hunger he struggled to contain.

His hands moved deliberately, gliding slowly upward along her stomach, brushing delicately against her ribs before resting over her chest. The frenetic rhythm of her heart pounded beneath his palm, and he savored the feeling, the heat radiating between them.

“F-fuck—” she stuttered, overcome by the sensation of his touch. Her head dipped forward and her body instinctively bent, pressing her backside accidentally against him, awakening something primal within Rafe.

He growled in response, the sound low and possessive, before biting down delicately on the sensitive skin of her neck—a thrill of control surging within him. His hands gripped her waist with a fierceness that betrayed his desire, an unyielding need to pull her closer, to press her against him, to feel her warmth enveloping him.

Every fiber of his being felt like it was on fire. He was losing control, intoxicated by the moment, intoxicated by her. He let his teeth drag against her neck as he spoke, his voice a hoarse growl, laced with want. “Say you missed me.”

“Rafe—” she whined, the sound a desperate plea that spurred him further into madness. She squirmed back against him, as if trying to escape, but every movement only fueled his desire.

He felt himself unraveling, every ounce of restraint slipping through his fingers like grains of sand. One hand slid lower, fingers daringly slipping beneath the hem of her dress, inching toward the softness of her skin. He pressed closer, reveling in the heat that radiated off her.

“I said,” he reiterated, his tone hardening as he gripped a fistful of her hair, gently tugging until her head tilted back against his shoulder, exposing the vulnerable curve of her neck. “Say it.”

“Fuck—Rafe—” she whimpered, her legs quaking as his fingers explored the forbidden territory beneath her dress. 

He tightened his hold, each breath becoming more labored. He was being pushy, demanding, and he didn’t care. The desperate need for her was growing, consuming him entirely. He was the obsessive, controlling Kook he had always been, but in that moment, he only cared about one thing.

“Come on, baby,” he urged again, his voice low and raw, heavily laced with urgency.

“I missed you,” she whispered, tears pricking her eyes as the truth slipped free from her lips.

The moment those words met his ears, something unfurled within him, spreading warmth through his chest that coursed all the way to his soul. Relief washed over him, suffocating the chaos that had gripped him for so long.

His hand released her hair, moving tenderly to trail his fingers down her throat, feeling the frantic beat of her pulse beneath his touch. He let out a low moan, the deep breaths he took echoing through the quiet room, rapid and heavy.

“Say it again,” he demanded, longing for more of her confession, more of her heart laid bare.

“Rafe—” she sighed, a soft, hesitant whisper, as her ass pressed back against him again, and he could sense the conflict raging inside her.

There they were, caught in a tempest of emotions, where desire battled with logic—a delicate dance that threatened to tip the scales into chaos. Rafe felt the world narrow down to just the two of them, the space between them crackling with tension as everything else fell away. All that mattered was her, his need for her, and the truth that hung in the air between them, waiting to be unleashed.

A deep groan escaped Rafe's lips as she pressed against him, every shift of her body igniting a fire that he struggled to control. His arousal swelled with each desperate movement she made, the heat between them palpable, urging him to close the distance even further. He couldn’t help himself, instinctually moving his hips forward, grinding back against hers with a fervor that spoke volumes of his need.

“Say it again,” he gritted out, his voice thick with urgency, desperately longing to hear her soft, breathy confessions.

There was a part of him that recognized how selfish he sounded, pushing her like this, but he was consumed by the ache for her words, a craving that felt insatiable. He needed this, needed to know she felt the same way he did.

“F—fuck, I missed you, Rafe. Miss you—missed you so much—” she mumbled in a breathless rush, clearly lost in the haze of lust and his intoxicating touch. 

Each repetition of her confession had a visceral effect on him, nearly bringing him to tears. He leaned down, resting his forehead against her shoulder, biting the inside of his lip to suppress the tumult of emotions that surged through him. Her words finally broke through his defenses, igniting a desperate resolve within him.

Straightening up again, he pulled her close, hands settling on her thighs, his lips pressing against her neck with a ravenous need. “Let me fuck you,” he whispered hoarsely into her ear, the rawness of his desire laying bare the jagged edge of his longing.

Her body tensed at his words, her mouth falling open in surprise as her eyes rolled back, overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment. “Fuck—no—no, I can’t—” she whined softly, a mixture of refusal and longing woven into her voice.

But he tightened his grip on her thighs, holding her impossibly closer, anchoring her to him. “Yes, you can,” he murmured, the heat of his breath ghosting over her skin as he brushed his lips against her neck. He could feel her heat radiating against him, and the flood of exhilaration urged him on, hands inching upward along the outside of her thighs, pushing her skirt higher.

“No, Rafe—” she protested weakly, grasping at his hands, squirming in his grasp. But he moved inexorably forward, his fingers urging her skirt until it was bunched around her hips, leaving her exposed.

His lips moved to her ear, moving closer to that fragile line between desire and desperation. “Stop me then,” he challenged softly, wrapping her in the intoxicating weight of his gaze.

“I’m engaged!” Panic surged within her, her breath hitching as she felt the cold air against her exposed lower half, the realization of vulnerability sending a shiver down her spine. 

At her reminder, Rafe's breath caught, his chest clenching as the reality of her engagement hit him. Yet, just as quickly, he brushed the thought aside, fueled by the undeniable chemistry that crackled between them. “Take off the ring then,” he countered, his voice smooth, brushing against her ear with delicate persistence.

She shuddered, the involuntary moan spilling from her lips as she squirmed in his unwavering grip, silently berating herself for wearing a thong that left little to the imagination. “Rafe—” was all she could manage, her voice a mix of desperation and reluctance.

In that moment, caught between duty and desire, their reality shifted, the world outside forgotten as they teetered on the edge of something infinitely intoxicating and profoundly reckless. The air between them was thick with temptation, where two hearts clamored for connection while the chains of logic threatened to pull them apart.

Rafe’s grip on her thighs tightened, a primal response to the sweet little moan that slipped from her lips. The sound reverberated through him, igniting a fire in his veins. He pressed harder against her, grinding forward, letting her feel the raw lust that consumed him. He knew he was being too demanding, too pushy, but at that moment, he couldn’t bring himself to care. All he wanted was her—needed her.

“Take off the ring, baby. You still love me. You’ve missed me for four years. I know it.” His voice was a low, sultry whisper, heavy with longing as he leaned in closer, his breath ghosting over her ear.

“Shit—” she gasped, eyes fluttering shut as an involuntary wave of desire washed over her, compelling her to grind back against him.

At her movement, Rafe let out a quiet groan, the sensation pushing him closer to the edge of his self-control. He moved his left hand up to her own, feeling the thin diamond band resting on her ring finger. A surge of frustration coursed through him—it was the symbol of a promise she had made, a life she had chosen. But right now, that ring felt like a barrier, one he was determined to dismantle.

Instead of removing it himself, he guided her hand upward to her mouth. “Take it off,” he repeated, his voice hoarse and deep, laced with an urgency that made her shiver.

With a hesitance that melted into a thrill, she opened her mouth, sucking her ring finger inside and wrapping her lips around the diamond ring. Slowly, he guided her, coaxing her movements as she pulled it off. His heart raced, eyes locked onto the sight of her mouth, so intimate and alluring, as she obliged his silent demand.

“Now throw it on the floor,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, filled with unrestrained desire.

But she shook her head, the ring still nestled between her lips as she turned to face him, a mix of defiance and longing swirling in her eyes.

Rafe tilted his head, caught between frustration and fascination. His fingers found her chin, tilting it gently to force her gaze up to meet his. He could see the conflict waging within her, the way her lips parted slightly, a surrender hanging on the edge of her breath.

“Spit,” he commanded, his tone quiet yet resolute.

Yet again, she shook her head, stubbornness flaring in the depths of her gaze.

“I said spit,” he snapped, a darker edge to his voice. He released her chin, frustration boiling beneath the surface as he moved swiftly. His hand pressed forward, forcing his long fingers into her mouth, making her choke on them, reclaiming the ring from her mouth in one fluid motion before throwing it onto the floor, where it clattered loudly, a stark reminder of the reality they were trying to escape.

His gaze darkened as he watched her chest heave, her breaths growing heavier, lips wet and parted in a way that unraveled him completely.

As she panted up at him, the tension between them reached a boiling point, filled with unsaid words and unfulfilled desires. In that charged silence, where time seemed to stand still, they both recognized the precipice upon which they balanced—a moment fraught with consequence, desire, and the undeniable pull of longing that neither could resist any longer. The world around them faded, leaving only their breaths, their hearts, and the fiery connection that threatened to consume them whole.

Rafe lowered his head again, his lips grazing her ear once more, sending shivers down her spine. “Turn around,” he whispered breathlessly, the warmth of his breath wrapping around her like a secret promise.

She shivered at his command, slowly turning to face him, her heart thundering in her chest as she swallowed hard. The world around them faded, the noise from the outside dimming into a distant hum. 

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

A moment later, she found herself placing her cheek against the messy desk, gripping its edge tightly as their bodies moved in a rough, desperate rhythm, a primal dance fueled by emotion. The room was a chaotic disarray—papers strewn across the floor, supplies discarded carelessly, the small couch shoved against the wall, and a lamp lying broken, its light extinguished. It was an absolute mess, but Rafe couldn’t bring himself to care about any of it. In that moment, all he could think about was her—the reality of her body against his, and the stark, electric connection that pulsed between them.

With his hands firmly anchored on her hips, he pulled her back against him, feeling her warmth seep into him as his chest rose and fell in labored breaths.

“Rafe—Rafe—shit—” she moaned, the sound a beautiful symphony of need and longing as she instinctively reached behind to clutch at his arm, her legs shaking as she struggled to maintain her composure. 

He was close—too close. 

“Come here,” he gritted out, pulling her against his chest. 

Without hesitation, he buried his face in the curve of her neck, biting down roughly as he panted against her skin, a shudder running through him as he surrendered to the moment. The rush of sensation was intoxicating, overwhelming. For a second, he felt breathless, high on their shared connection, unable to calm the wild pounding of his heart.

With a loud groan, he shuddered against her, spilling in her, her arousal mixed with his dripping down his cock.

Yet a voice in his mind warned him. If he let go of her now, if he released the tight grip he had around her, she would slip away—just like she had before. So, he held on, anchoring her between himself and the desk, his hands roaming over her body, desperate to keep her close.

As she tapped on his thigh, a subtle signal for him to get off, his teeth clenched in frustration. But he ignored her silent plea, determined not to give in. 

Burying his face deeper into her neck, he inhaled her scent, a heady mix of familiarity and desire. He wrapped his arms tighter around her waist and chest, holding her against him as though she were his lifeline.

“Why are you doing this to me?” he murmured, the words laced with confusion and longing, a plea for understanding.

She swallowed hard, struggling to catch her breath against the tumult of emotions coursing through her. “I’m not doing anything—”

“You are.” His voice held an edge, a growl that reflected both frustration and need. He was angry—not just at her, but at the situation that kept pulling them apart despite the undeniable chemistry that tied them together.

“You can’t possibly tell me that you feel nothing for me,” he whispered, his eyes searching hers for the truth he desperately wanted to believe.

“Rafe—” 

With a soft sigh, she turned to face him, their eyes locking in a moment thick with unspoken words. The truths they had been avoiding hung heavy between them. She could feel the intensity, the unyielding heat of their connection, and for the first time, there was no chaos outside them—only the fragile clarity of what they both felt.

He kept his hands firmly wrapped around her, refusing to let go, the terror of loss gripping him like a vice. The thought of releasing her sent waves of panic crashing through him, a primal fear that the moment his fingers slipped away, she would turn and walk out of his life once more. Rafe's eyes bore into hers, fierce and desperate, revealing just how deeply the prospect of losing her again threatened to shatter him. 

He was terrified to let go, afraid that the moment he released her, she would vanish again, slipping away into the abyss that had separated them for four long years. His heart raced, each beat echoing the unspoken dread gnawing at him. 

Their gazes locked, his eyes reflecting a storm of fierce desperation. He had endured a hollow existence since she left, and the thought of losing her again felt like a death sentence.  “I do still care about you.” Her fingers gently caressed his cheek, a touch filled with warmth but tinged with regret. 

But then, as if a fragile bubble had burst, the weight of what they'd just shared crashed down upon them. “But what we just did—it was wrong. And I—I need to tell Ilgaz about it.” With that admission, she bit down on her lip, guilt washing over her features like a dark tide.

He leaned into her touch, desperate for comfort but feeling a tightness grow in his chest. “You seriously plan on telling your fiancé that you just cheated on him?” he spat, disbelief crashing upon his heart like a wave. The vulnerability and honesty she embodied felt like a double-edged sword in this moment.

“Of course I am. I can’t lie to him. He deserves the truth,” she replied softly, her honesty only intensifying his despair, her voice heavy with guilt. 

He should have expected her response; she had always been forthright, unwaveringly so. But the thought of her returning to Ilgaz, recounting their stolen moment, twisted in his gut like a knife. His hands tightened around her arms, unwilling to loosen his grip, bound by emotion and fear.

“Say you still love me,” he muttered, his voice rough like gravel, the plea escaping him before he could stop it.

“Why?” she asked cautiously, confusion knitting her brow. “Why is it so important to you?”

“Because I need to know,” he implored, surrendering to raw emotion. The grip on her arms tightened as if to pull her deeper into the gravity of his need. Four years had passed since they had been apart, four years spent in a fog of longing. He could feel the tension in his grip on her, an addict grasping his last fix after years of deprivation. 

Four years spent apart, and here they stood again, caught in this charged moment, their past alive in every breath they shared. 

The silence that followed was deafening, wrapping around them like an inescapable shroud. Her heart raced as the realization hit her—she had loved him fiercely once, and perhaps that love had never truly faded. But how could she risk everything by admitting that she still craved him, still felt the magnetic pull that defied logic?

Tears shimmered in her eyes, the swirl of emotions reflected back at him. “I care about you,” she finally confessed, her own voice unsteady. “But I can’t just run away from reality again. I owe it to Ilgaz to be honest.”

He felt the finality of her words crash over him, the bitter truth sinking in. Life could not be so simple; they had grown into different people, woven paths that no longer intersected. Yet, in that charged silence, he saw something behind her eyes: a flicker of the past, a memory of the love that had once flourished between them.

“But what if you can be honest with him,” he said slowly, searching for the right words, “and still choose what you truly want?” 

She hesitated, caught between loyalty and the undeniable pull of their shared connection. “What if I want both?” she whispered, the conflict rich in her voice.

“Then choose,” he said, his voice softening. “Choose what makes you happy. Maybe the truth doesn’t have to shatter everything.” 

A stillness enveloped them, each heart beating in the heavy silence. The city around them faded, leaving only the two of them standing at the precipice of a decision that could change everything. 

Taking a deep breath, she stepped closer, their foreheads almost touching. “I’ve missed you,” she murmured, her breath warm against his skin. “I’ve missed us.” 

After a long moment, she nodded to herself, tears slipping down her cheeks, but now they shimmered with a sense of relief. “You’ve always been my first love. I can’t deny that,” she said, her voice trembling yet resolute. 

His eyes were dark, filled with a desperate intensity that caught her off guard. It was a frantic plea, a mixture of hope and despair that mirrored the internal chaos raging within her. “I’ve been trying to forget you,” she finally admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “But every moment I spend with you reminds me of what we had. It confuses me.”

He swallowed hard, the hope surging within him sparking a flicker of desire. “It confuses me too, but it’s real. This connection… It’s not something we can just wish away. You have to know that.”

Tears brimmed in her eyes as the truth of his words echoed within her. “But Ilgaz… What about him?” 

“Maybe we need to be honest with ourselves first before we decide what happens next,” he replied gently, his expression softened by understanding. The ruins of their past lingered heavily in the air between them, but so too did the potential for something new—something real and unfiltered.

She bit her lip, torn and trembling. “I don’t know if I can just walk away from him.”

“Then don’t,” he said, the steadiness in his tone offering her solace. “Take your time. But don’t let fear dictate your happiness. You deserve to know how you feel without guilt shadowing you.”

She winced, face twitching in guilt. “It's too late for that.”

Rafe nodded, pursing his lips as his eyes darted to her hair, his finger coming up to adjust a few fray pieces, “I know, baby.”

He watched as she fought an internal battle, emotions flashing across her face in rapid succession—confusion, longing, terror, and finally acceptance. In that moment, her heart and mind clashed as she confronted the truth she had buried for far too long. 

“I need to think,” she finally breathed, her voice trembling with the weight of her decision.

“Of course,” he replied, releasing his grip slowly, though a part of him wanted to hold on tightly and never let go. “Take all the time you need. I’ll be here.”

With one last glance laden with emotions too complex to unravel in the moment, she stepped away, the distance between them filled with possibilities yet to be explored. Each step away felt like an ache—a reminder of both what was lost and what could potentially be found.

But as she walked out the door, she felt something shift within her. For the first time in years, she allowed herself to embrace the uncertainty, to feel the weight of her choices without allowing guilt to hold her back. 

And he stood watching her go, a bittersweet smile on his lips, realizing that this moment—fragile yet potent—might lead to healing, to truth, and perhaps, to love again. The night stretched around him, open and endless, as he clung to the hope of what tomorrow might bring. They were two souls intertwined by fate, navigating a complex dance of honesty and desire, ready to discover if love could truly survive the wounds of the past.

The End.

[zorosangell]

⛥ﾟ・。 happy birthday

synopsis: it's a known fact that zoro can't stand his birthday... but when you finally discover the date, you can't help putting together something special

cw: nsfw (male & fem receiving), spanking, dirty talk, zoro's a little rough, some leather, some comfort, maybe a little ooc zoro but who gives a shit, reader + nami = trouble, usopp's a real og, reader can see visions, reader has black angel wings, both aren't really pertinent to the story but they're described, etc.

a/n: happy thanksgiving!

"Ladies, I need your assistance," you stated, plainly, approaching your two best friends—who were lounging on the deck chairs—and plopping yourself down next to them.

This was beyond urgent.

"Of course, (y/n)," Nami nodded, dropping her magazine in her lap and glancing up at you with an inviting smile. "What's up?"

"Is everything alright?" Robin asked, slightly concerned.

"Everything's... fine," you nodded, unconvincingly, actively trying to think up a way to explain. "I just... I did a thing... and learned something I probably shouldn't have... about Zoro."

'Huh?'

"About Zoro?" she raised a brow, now even more intrigued.

"Did he hurt you? Or say something stupid again?" Nami's gaze turned sharp, the woman sitting up rigidly in her seat, ready to go to war. "If he did, I swear, I'll wring his muscly-ass neck!"

"No, no! Not that," you quickly assured, shaking your head. "It's something from his past... from before he met me."

"What happened?" Robin asked, shutting her book, now fully invested. "From the start, if you don't mind."

You nodded, looking down at your lap and recalling the events of the last hour.

"I was doing my daily meditation on the roof of the crow's nest, y'know, like I always do, when I was suddenly hit with a vision," you started. "Now, it didn't come as harshly as the others typically do, so I assumed that it was going to be about something trivial. But that changed when a young Zoro suddenly came into view."

The women sat quietly, listening intently as they took in each word.

"He was training, super aggressively, mind you, when all of a sudden this group of kids comes running up to him asking when he was going to stop."

Crossing one leg over the other, you playfully rolled your eyes.

"Of course, Zoro being Zoro, said he wasn't gonna finish any time soon, but, and get this, the kids say But you're gonna miss your birthday party!"

Nami and Robin gasped, eyes widening slightly.

It was common knowledge that the swordsman wasn't very fond of birthdays—or rather his birthday, specifically.

Whenever asked about it, he often dodged the question, or just ignored it altogether, not bothering with Luffy, Usopp, and Chopper's chaotic antics in trying to get him to spill the beans.

Even you were unsuccessful, the man managing to smoothly redirect the conversation with the rough timbre of his voice, knowing it distracted you easily, along with other physical means.

Eventually, you gave up hope, seeing as you didn't even have a clue as to what season the day fell in.

But now... you had a date.

And it was today.

"I know he hates it, but I can't just sit on this," you whined, slumping in the chair. "Before, it wasn't like I could do anything because I didn't know when. But now that I do, I can't in clear conscience do nothing for his birthday..."

"I'm not sure," Robin sighed, quizzically. "There might be a reason why he doesn't celebrate. Maybe something bad happened and caused him to hate the day."

"Or maybe he's just being his typical, difficult self?" Nami scoffed, rolling her eyes before turning to you. "I think it's sweet that you wanna do something nice for him. And I know exactly what you need to do in order to make this the best day of his life!"

Confused, you watched as she leaned over, reaching under her chair and grabbing a book bound with rich, wine-colored leather, the image of a muscular man with extremely long hair and billowing shirt on the cover.

"A book?" you raised a brow. "Zoro's... not really a reader. Especially not something like this."

"No, silly. What's inside the book."

"Paper?"

"Romance."

With an exasperated sigh, she flipped through a couple pages, eyes lighting up when she found the page she was looking for.

"This novel is like a playbook on how to seduce a man," she happily handed it over, allowing you to skim over the text. "Follow that scene to the letter, and you'll have him counting down the minutes until his next birthday. I guarantee it."

"Are you sure?" your nose scrunched slightly at the cheesiness, confused as to why the author kept on mentioning the love interest's rippling pectorals. "This isn't really my style..."

"Trust me!" she grinned, giving you a soft pat on the back. "It's foolproof."

Glancing toward Robin for confirmation, she could only shrug, resting her hands in her lap.

"You know Zoro the best... Do what you think suits both you and him," she advised. "Even if that means trying something new."

Closing the book, your eyes found their way to the cover, your mouth fighting off the urge to stick out its tongue at the sight of the man's chiseled smolder.

He looked more like a girl than you...

"I'll take your word for it."

"(y/n)?" Zoro called, knocking on the door to the women's quarters before carefully pushing it open, slightly frustrated to find that you were, once again, not there.

Well, at least that eliminates the cabin...

Letting out a heavy sigh, he turned around, opting to shift his search toward the deck.

'Where the hell did she run off to?'

It was late, and the swordsman had been searching for the past twenty minutes, having already been through the kitchen, the dining room, the sick bay, the aquarium, the library, and the workrooms, with still no trace of you.

This, of course, was very odd considering you were usually within arms reach of him, the two of you seeming to just naturally float around each other, even as you did your daily routines.

Not only that, but also the fact that he hadn't seen you all day, seeing as Usopp dragged all the men along on a Boys Day Out.

Though, Zoro didn't understand why he felt the need to worry so much.

He knew a million times over that you were a strong and capable woman, and that if anything were to happen, you could more than adequately hold your own.

But for some odd reason, reminding himself of this fact wasn't subduing the concern spiking in his chest.

'Dammit...'

He had to find you and kill this feeling before he could think any deeper into it.

"(y/n)!" he called, looking around as he walked out on deck. "(y/n)!"

When he was no response, he simply tried again, not planning on stopping until you revealed yourself.

"Will you shut up?!" Nami groaned from her spot from one of the lounge chairs, brows furrowed as she looked up from her maps. "You sound like a lost little puppy."

Zoro rolled his eyes at her theatrics, turning to face her.

"Where's (y/n)?" he asked, curtly.

"She's in the crow's nest," the navigator stated, simply, turning her attention back to the papers strewn over her lap. "Said something about waiting for you... though I'm sure you're too busy ruining the peaceful atmosphere."

Sassily, she flipped one of the parchments over, lazily skimming over its contents.

"Mosshead..."

The man scoffed, expression turning sour at the obvious jab.

"If you'd told me where she was sooner, I wouldn't have shouted!"

"If you'd asked me where she was sooner, I would've told you!"

"Whatever!"

He turned away in a huff, walking over to the ladder and grabbing onto the cool metal.

"Good luck!" Nami called, cheekily, waving as he left. "You're gonna need it!"

"The hell?" he grumbled, starting his trek to the crow's nest, muttering to himself in confusion as he approached the top.

He would never understand her...

Hoisting himself up on the balcony, his brow quirked at the soft hum of music coming from the other side of the wall.

'Music?'

Confused, he listened closer, slowly beginning to make out the sound of a saxophone, which was playing over a smooth jazz background.

You never listened to music when you worked out, much less the sultry nonsense flowing through his ears.

And even though he could hear that, he had yet to hear you grunt out a rep, or rack a weight.

What the hell was going on with everyone today?

Curiosity piqued, he opened the door, eyes widening and heart dropping to his ass at the sight that met him on the other side.

Somehow, the crow's nest had been turned into some sort of makeshift love den, the lights dimmed and the mat area lined with lush pillows and fur blankets, candles illuminating the surrounding area and incense filling the room with a light haze, which smelled of sandalwood and jasmine.

And there, in the middle of it all, sat an angel...

Zoro's breath hitched, eyes widening slightly as he caught sight of your naked form.

You were laying on your side, delicious curves on display in the smallest, tightest leather corset he'd ever seen, your tits practically spilling out the top.

Your hair, freshly washed, cascaded beautifully down your side, framing your face and slightly shading your eyes in a way that gave his hand an itch to tug it.

Not to mention your newly-lotioned skin glowing in the soft candlelight, making you look so smooth and soft and primed for grabbing.

And your dark wings only added to the appeal.

The soft music seemed to be coming from a small transponder snail in the corner, its eyes turned toward the wall in hopes of protecting its innocence from the events to come.

"(y/n)..." he started, both confused and painfully aroused, as he shut the door behind himself, locking it. "What're you doing?"

You faltered, an awkward expression settling on your face.

"Being... sexy?"

Zoro paused a moment, waiting to see if you'd change your answer, before breaking into a small fit of chuckles.

Instantly, your face flushed, embarrassment beginning to sink in.

You knew this was stupid!

"Don't laugh, you ass! I was trying to surprise you!" you whined, abruptly sitting up, crossing your arms over your chest.

"You found out it was my birthday today, didn't you?" he cut to the chase, stalking forward. "And then Nami put you up to this?"

The dots were all connecting.

Usopp keeping him off the ship.

You going missing.

Nami's odd comment.

You were trying to seduce him as a birthday present.

Not that he was complaining...

Your lip jutted out in a slight pout, your eyes avoiding all contact with the man as he moved closer.

"I know you don't like celebrating your birthday, but Nami gave me some book that was supposed to explain exactly what men want... and I figured you still deserved something nice..." you limply explained, turning away from him. "But, in hindsight, it was stupid..."

Sitting down in front of you, his pointer and thumb came up to hold your chin, turning you to face him, where you were met with a soft kiss on your forehead.

"It was sweet," he corrected, thumb smoothing over the skin of your cheek. "Even if you look anything but sweet right now... I can tell you put a lot of effort into this."

You perked up at the last part, turning to him eagerly, eyes glinting with hope.

"Really?" you asked, sounding surprised, your expression downright adorable.

Suddenly, the music, the clothes, and the absolutely tantalizing scent of you began to work their magic on him.

All of his thoughts and reason faded into thin air as he stared at your gorgeous, doe eyes.

"Really," he confirmed, voice low and wanting.

And you could only let out a tiny gasp before he grabbed you by the back of the neck and pressed his lips against yours.

The kiss wasn't soft or careful.

The kiss was rough; hungry; slow as he drew moans and gasps out of you.

He kissed you like he hadn't done so in ages, and you were starting to believe he hadn't.

His lips were soft, the taste of sake and mint on his tongue.

You let his hand move along your back and ass, roughly squeezing the flesh and making you moan.

Taking advantage over your open mouth, he slid his tongue alongside your bottom lip before slipping it inside in your mouth.

He grunted hungrily as your tongue began to swirl with his, swapping spit and exchanging breath.

The act made your pussy clench impatiently behind the leather, wanting to be touched and treated.

By him.

Zoro then pulled away enough to speak, eyes hooded and dark.

"Where'd you get this little number from?" he murmured hotly against your lips, calloused hands coming up to roughly knead your hips, feeling up the fabric under his fingertips. "Tell me."

One of his hands snuck down to squeeze your ass, and you let him, biting back a whimper in the process.

"W-Went into town," you softly stuttered. "Bought the outfit the girl was wearing in the book."

He started to line kisses all over your jaw, hungrily moving down to your neck; your collarbone; and your naked shoulders.

"Fuck," he growled into your skin. "Too damn good to be true."

His hands roamed up and down your sides, squeezing and fondling.

"Been wantin' your fine ass since I walked in here..."

"You like it—?" The rest of your question doesn't leave your lips as he grabbed you by your hips and pulled you toward him, so close that air couldn't even move between you.

Your bodies were pressed flushed against each other, so close that you can feel the painfully hard bulge in his robe.

He was turned on by you.

He was really turned on by you.

That fact made you delirious.

His lips pressed against yours again, kissing them so much that your mouth was beginning to turn raw.

He began to settle himself among the pillows and blankets, never breaking the kiss, before plopping down on the nearest, largest cushion.

Then, he gripped your hips and coaxed you onto his lap, forcing you to straddle him.

Instinctively, you ground down into his hardening member, enlisting a groan from deep within his throat.

The sound traveled straight to your core.

You wanted more.

"I want you, Zoro," you sultrily whispered in a sudden burst of confidence, manicured hands gliding over his strong shoulders. "Please... I don't think I can wait."

To show how serious you were, your hands came up to undo the laces on your back, freeing your chest for him to see.

The shock in his steel gray eyes is replaced with sheer hunger when he caught a full view of your perfect tits, sitting there just waiting to be touched.

"You little minx..." he chuckled, amused. "Lemme get a feel of you first."

You bit your lip as he leaned forward, laying you down against the brown, furry blanket before prying your legs open.

And there he got a good look of your sobbing wet pussy, the crotch of your leather suit having been cut out.

Eyes widening at the sight, he looked almost pained.

You were going to be the death of him.

"Christ, (y/n)..." he hissed, leaning down to get a better look, gaping at your sex. "You tryin' t'kill me?"

His eyes flicked up to yours, hands still on your thighs.

'Okay?' his eyes asked.

Wordlessly, you nodded, unable to speak.

But that wasn't gonna slide.

Slowly, he began to brush his fingers up and down your wet slit, paying close attention to your reaction.

"Words, pretty," he growled. "Gimme words."

"Yes!" you moaned, toes curling at the feeling of his fingers on your cunt. "Please, Zo'... please touch me."

He gave you a wolfish grin at your pitiful whines, but didn't keep you waiting.

Swooping down, he captured your clit in his mouth, suckling and eating your pussy like a starving man.

He was relentless with his tongue slashed, flicks and long licks up and down your slit.

And you loved it.

Your hips writhed and whined against his mouth, trying to get him closer.

Your pussy pushed past his soft lips, which drew mindless shapes and nonsense words across your needy core.

"You're so wet," he mumbled into your pussy. "Doin' all this in your little suit turns you on that much, pretty?"

You moaned in response, unable to form words, especially when he reached one hand up to play with your breast.

And it only got better when Zoro began to tease your entrance with his middle finger, dipping the tip in and out of your wet pussy.

"You want this?" he asked, voice nothing but a low growl.

You nodded vigorusly, pulling a laugh from the man's lips.

"So needy," he teased as he began to slowly slid his finger inside of you. "S'been a while since we fooled around... Have I not been takin' care of this pussy?"

"Y—!" you gasped, eyes blown wide as you felt your pussy stretch around three, thick fingers.

He aimed up to brush against your clit as he slid his fingers in and out of you, while also leaning down to suck on it, sending waves of pleasure crashing through you.

You could feel yourself quickly beginning to reach your peak.

'No! Not like this!'

"Wait, Zoro!" you whined, writhing against him. "Not yet!"

He immediately ceased his movement and pulled away from you, glaring confusingly.

"'Scuse me?" he asked, not sounding happy with your protest.

You nearly laughed at his reaction.

"It's your birthday," you explained. "I'm 'sposed to be the one making you feel good. So lay down."

Zoro still looked pissed he couldn't make you cum, but listened anyway.

He laid down, mouth and chin glistening from your juices, and you moved to sit on top of him.

Slowly, you began to kiss and suck your essence off of his mouth, earning low groans from him

Your hands slid down to his broad chest and you gripped his robe.

"Off please?" you asked, peering up at him through your lashes.

You don't have to ask twice.

In a flash, he tugged his arms out his sleeves, pushing his robe and haramaki down to leave him in just his boxers.

You took a moment to admire his beautiful body—so hard and defined with muscle and scars, his lower stomach sinewy with green hair.

He was so, so gorgeous.

Slowly, you glided your hands up and down his hard body, admiring his well-defined pecs and abs.

"You're perfect," you whispered before leaning in to peck his scars, running your lips softly over each.

The low moans and mmms Zoro let slide out his mouth were delicious to you.

They only heighten your arousal, along with the music still playing in the background.

You never pictured yourself getting off on a scene like this, but you supposed it took the right person to bring the freak out of you.

Smoothly, you began to kiss down his hardened stomach until you came down to his boxers, which were already hanging low on his hips.

"Fuck, baby," he hummed, watching you work.

His lips were parted and his eyes were hooded, completely entranced by you.

Finally ridding him of his underwear, you began to think you bit off more than you could chew—or suck, rather—when you get a look at his cock for the first time in weeks.

Lately, between your training schedules and antics with the crew, the two of you had barely had a moment to yourselves.

But you never thought you'd forget how well-endowed he was, dick thick and curved slightly to the left, green hair curling around his stomach and pubic area.

"Hasn't been that long, has it?" he chuckled, teasingly, raising a brow. "You havin' second thoughts?"

"No..." you scoffed, cheeks puffed.

Not wanting to disappoint him, you opened your mouth and slowly began to slide his dick against your tongue.

"There we go," he cooed, relaxing into the blanket. "Good girl... take it all in."

You followed his instruction, your jaw and mouth stretching to accommodate his size.

"Mmm-hmm," you hummed around his cock, he vibrations causing him to moan.

You relished the sounds, wanting more, so you began to move your head back and forth, taking his cock in and out your throat.

You gagged and spat all along his dick, causing saliva to drip down his balls and your chin, making your blowjob extra sloppy.

And Zoro was eating up every second.

He tossed his head back as his eyes rolled in the back of his head, giving you sight that you took a mental snapshot of for a rainy day.

He was so, so sexy.

And to be able to make him feel good gave you the motivation to fight against your aching jaw and burning throat as you continued to fuck him with your throat.

"Doin' so good, baby," he grunted, rolling his hips into your mouth. "So good for me..."

But to your surprise, he suddenly pulled his cock out your mouth.

"But if I'm gonna cum, it's either gonna be on that pretty ass or those pretty' tits ."

You smirked, sitting up and lacing your hand with his, "How about inside?" you purred.

You'd already gotten the hook-ups from Chopper, though embarrassing, and were stocked full of necessary precautions.

And, of course, that was all you needed to say to get Zoro to smash his lips hungrily against yours.

"This gift jus' keeps gettin' better and better," he cheekily growled against your mouth, flipping you both over and laying you down on the brown fur. "Now choose how I'm doin' you before I do it for you."

Not wasting any time, you laid down on your stomach, presenting your ass and dripping pussy for him as you moved a pillow under your hips.

You then looked back at him, only to find him sitting there and stroking himself to the sight of you.

"Like this," you whispered, breathlessly. "Fuck me just like this, Zo'."

Zoro was going fucking feral behind you, and it took everything in his being not to shove his entire length in side you as he began to move closer.

"God, look at you... stainin' the cushions," he sighed as he began to rub your pussy with his cock. "Sittin' nice and pretty just for me..."

Starting out, he went in slow, taking his sweet time to allow you to get used to him.

As soon as his tip entered you, your jaw dropped and your eyes blew wide from the stretch.

No one could ever compare to how warm and solid Zoro felt snuggled up in your pussy.

No one.

You were so glad you had the fur of the blanket to grip at he took a hold of your hips and bottomed out inside of you.

"F-Fuck, Zoro!" you whined, burying your face in the pillows.

He began to bump his hips against yours a little faster now, the sound of skin slapping filling the air as his heavy balls hit your clit.

"C'mon, now, pretty," he huffed. "Y'said you were my present, yeah? Be a good girl and take me then. Make me proud."

He moved to fuck you harder, taking a handful of your ass before giving it a harsh slap.

The feeling was just too much.

He was so deep.

Your eyes were seeing stars, ones that far surpassed the ones lining the night sky.

You had no chance to comprehend anything, too busy taking Zoro's fat cock as he fucked you into oblivion in your little leather, corset.

"Feels good, don't it?" he grunted in your ear.

One of his hands moved to smack your ass again, a wanton moan ripping from your throat.

"Bet you've dreamed about this," he growled at you. "Bet you couldn't wait until I got home tonight."

He leaned down toward you, his lips grazing your ear.

"Bet you've been waiting to get split on my dick for so long."

"Gods, Zoro, yes!" you screamed out to the heavens, fisting the blanket for dear life as he fucked you harder.

You'd never felt like this before; so gone.

Your eyes are closed and your mind is blank, only able to thing of the man towering above you, turned dumb by the waves of pleasure washing over you.

The pleasure was just too good, and you could feel it beginning to build in your core.

"M'gonna cum!" you practically sobbed, your head thrown back. "Zoro!"

The man let out a deep, rumbling chuckle, slightly hiking up his leg to get a better angle.

"Me, too," he grunted. "Want you to take it."

He pressed his lips to your ear, leaning down so his dick hit that spot that had you seeing the entire universe behind your eyes.

"Fuckin' cum for me, pretty," he demanded. "Let me know how good I'm makin' you feel."

And you do.

Moans and gasps leave your lips like a chorus as that coil in your stomach finally snapped.

You unraveled, cumming all over Zoro's dick.

"Oh, my Gods!" you screamed, voice reaching the high heavens.

Your eyes spilled tears of ecstasy as he talked you through it, telling you how good of a girl you were as he stroked your outer thighs.

"Gonna cum, too," he grunted, hips snapping aganist your ass again and again as he chased his high. "You gonna take all of it, baby, hm?"

"Y-Yes!" you choked out, tossing your ass back to meet his thrusts, wanting to make him feel good, too.

He gripped your hips for dear life and came deep inside you with husky, loud moan that made your stomach leap and your pussy clench around his pulsing cock.

You took every ounce he had to offer, not once pulling away.

You could feel it coating your walls, filling you up to the point where you curled your toes and gasped at the feeling coursing through your body.

Finally, Zoro's hips began to slow until he finally came to a stop, pulling out of you with a soft groan.

But he wasn't done.

Still hard, he slid his head over your lower back and ass, coating your skin in his cum.

"So you smell like me," he grunted. "No other man'll even try."

You let out a weak, spent moan as your hips finally dropped, Zoro finally releasing his hold on you as he flopped to your side.

Grabbing you, he pulled your body into him, allowing you to snuggle into his side as he grabbed the blanket, wrapping you both in its warmth.

With the adrenaline now wearing off, and you so limp in his grasp, he began to worry, glancing down at you with a hint of concern

"You alright?" he carefully asked, slightly nudging you. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

You slowly shook your head, still in a daze.

"That was amazing," you sighed, pressing further into his warm side. "Best I ever had..."

A proud smile stretched across Zoro's face, chest puffing slightly at the praise.

"So... did this make your birthday a little better?" you nervously asked, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Grinning, he gave you two kisses on your cheek, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your jaw.

"It did," he hummed contently. "By a hell of a lot more than a little."

Yes!

Internally, you gave yourself a huge high five, insanely proud that Mission: Mosshead was a success.

And now, you believed you deserved some snuggles in return.

"Cuddle with me?" you cooed, looking up at him through your lashes.

Zoro chuckled, rolling his eyes at you.

"Such a baby," he teased, securely wrapping his muscled arms around you, squeezing. "You're lucky I like you."

"Just like?"

"You know what I mean."

"I think I wanna hear you say it."

"I think I wanna take a nap."

"Zoro..."

"(y/n)..."

"Happy birthday."

"I love you."

[nemesyaaa]

i've had that song in mind during all my lecture. was fantastic and goddamn, such a pretty writings. you set all the vibes the tension of the change, the differentes tones of the voice, the fear, the dynamic, the creepy hide and seek. poor Bambi, someone's gootta pray for her pussy. i loved this so much !!! this is such an insane pairing. she was a bit a brat, perfect for matching rafe's psycho phases 😚😚‼️

“i’m trying to sort this out with you, baby, but you’re making that really hard for me right now..” rafe spoke gently, his fists balling up at his sides. — I swear, in his shinning era 💀💀

“you know.. the last thing i wanna come home to when i’ve had a rough day is an attitude and a temper tantrum.” he attempted to twist the door knob, your heart beating in your ears when it started rattling against the hardwood. — I love busyman 🙂‍↕️

“i’ve been so good with you, i think you’ve forgotten just how fast things can change, bambi.” his words sending a shiver down your spine. — would be scared for real

“i wish you were good all the time, now i have to hurt you, bambi.” he pulled you up, lifting you off of the ground before slamming you down on the bed. you gasped at the impact, your boyfriend sliding your bottoms off before giving you a light smack across your cheek. — something about this really turns me on...

“you’re so wet down here, baby. shit, you’re just glistening.” rafe tore your thighs apart, unbuttoning his shirt and slipping it off as you ran a foot down his toned stomach. he pinned your thighs to your chest, his hands resting on the back of your knees. “you want this?” he ran his cock between your folds. — this is actually why you chased me around....

rafe + predator/prey with bambi?

warnings: dark!rafe (he’s nice at first), bratty behavior, dom/sub themes, slight arguing, shouting, manhandling, fear play, rafe chases you around tanneyhill, hide and seek, oral (m. receiving), face fucking, dacryphilia, unprotected sex, rough sex, hair pulling, choking, overstimulation, slapping, impact play (?), asphyxiation, lots of dirty talk, squirting, size kink, breeding kink, baby trapping threats, degradation

link: read more of bambi!reader here <3

w/c: 2.2k

rafe knew the second you slammed the door shut in his face that you had forgotten your place. all the soft, sappy sex you two had been indulging in had officially altered your brain chemistry into thinking you could lock him out of his room in his own house. “open this door, y/n.” rafe hadn’t raised his voice at you in a long time, and while he didn’t want to, it wasn’t long before he felt his patience running thin as you continued to ignore him and give him the silent treatment. you stood on the other side of the door, a pout gracing your lips as you crossed your arms over your chest.

“i’m trying to sort this out with you, baby, but you’re making that really hard for me right now..” rafe spoke gently, his fists balling up at his sides. “you know.. the last thing i wanna come home to when i’ve had a rough day is an attitude and a temper tantrum.” he attempted to twist the door knob, your heart beating in your ears when it started rattling against the hardwood. “i’ve been so good with you, i think you’ve forgotten just how fast things can change, bambi.” his words sending a shiver down your spine.

of course you didn’t want to be on his bad side, but something about the way his voice dropped a few octaves as if he was giving you a warning made you step closer to the door. “open it or i’ll do it myself.” for a moment there, you almost did as he said, your hand reaching down for the door knob before you heard him whisper something underneath his breath. “fuckin’ brat.” you froze just as your fingers grazed the cold metal. he wasn’t going to like what you did next. taking a step back, you shuddered as you watched the shadow of his feet. “n-no.” you whimpered, your heart beating in your chest.

rafe laughed, his jaw ticking as he felt anger boiling underneath his skin. “what was that? what did you say?” surely he wasn’t hearing right. “i said no, rafe!” you yelled back, running to the corner of his room that was furthest from the door. that did it. rafe said goodbye to any kind of restraint he had left, deciding you were going to learn your lesson about saying that little two-lettered word to him. rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, rafe let out a breath before backing away. “are you near the door?” your eyebrows knitted in confusion at his question. “no—”

before you could say anything else, rafe barged in, knocking the hardwood off of its hinges as your hands shot up to cover your ears. you stared at him doe eyed and terrified, his eyes finding yours as he rolled his shoulders back. “i didn’t want to do that..” he stalked over to you, wrapping a hand around your throat before pressing you against the wall, “why do you have to make me be the bad guy, huh?” you gasped, clasping a palm around his wrist. “please— i’m sorry!” rafe stared you down, his eyes nothing but two black holes as his grip around your throat tightened.

“are you? it seemed like you just wanted to piss me off back there,” he dragged you towards his bed, throwing you down before pinning your elbows to the mattress and slotting himself between your thighs, “that goddamn silent treatment, you know i can’t stand that shit.” his face was centimeters away, his breath fanning your cheek as tears welled in your eyes. “you know what i have to do now, right?” you shook your head, fear bubbling in your chest as you remembered the last time he had to ‘punish’ you. “please! i’ll be good, rafe! ‘don’t want to make you mad anymore..”

closing the distance between you two, rafe kissed you softly, wiping away the stray tear that managed to roll down your cheek. “i’m gonna give you a ten second head start to run, and if you decide to hide instead, you better make sure i don’t fuckin’ find you,” he whispered against your lips, “now, get the fuck outta here.” rafe moved aside, your chest rising and falling as you slipped out of the room, your feet skittering across the floor as you started running away from him. you swore your heart was beating a million times per second, the fear of being caught making your blood run cold.

you had barely made it to the bottom of the stairs before you looked up and saw rafe making his way out of the room. he was far too fast for you to outrun him, panic setting in as you started scouring through the halls of tanneyhill. coincidentally, all of the rooms were locked. rafe must’ve did that when you first mouthed off to him, having known how this night would end. “please, please, please!” you struggled trying to open the door to each room only to fall short when the knobs didn’t even budge. “come on..” you whined, rounding the corner of the hallway.

“you look so pretty when you’re scared.” you spun around on your heels, a half scream leaving your lips as rafe started jogging down the long hallway. running across the kitchen, and into the living room, rafe’s laughter echoed throughout the house as he chased you around the couch. “you’re gonna fuckin’ get it.” as a last resort attempt to throw him off, you grabbed one of the pillows from the sofa and threw it at him so you could run up the stairs. just as he caught it, he tripped over his own feet before you made your way into his study, crawling underneath his desk.

clamping a hand over your mouth, you panted softly through your nose as rafe’s footsteps sounded up the staircase. “so you decided to hide after all, huh?” your heart was slamming against your ribcage as he got closer. “i was really hoping you didn’t do that.” he almost sounded apologetic as he stepped into the room next door. you removed your hand from your mouth, fiddling with the ‘R’ pendant on your necklace. “if i get my hands on you.. god, you might just hate me.” just as it sounded like he walked past the room you were in, your heart dropped to your stomach when the door suddenly opened.

rafe walked around, stopping right in front the desk. “one of my favorite things about you is your perfume. it’s so sweet, it’s almost like you leave a trail behind you everywhere you go..” you didn’t even get to react before he was pulling you out by your feet, your screams echoing in his ears. “you make it so easy, baby, it’s like you wanted to be caught.” he pulled you up by your arms, dragging you out of the study and back to his bedroom. he forced you down on your knees, grabbing ahold of your chin as he fumbled with his belt.

“wanna talk back when i’m being nice to you? fine. i’ll just put your mouth to better use.” he said through gritted teeth. clasping your hands behind your back, you gazed up at him through your eyelashes. “listen to me when i say this, yeah?” he slipped his thumb between your lips, “right now you’re not my pretty little girlfriend, alright? you’re a slut.” your skirt rode up your thighs as you spread your legs, sitting back on your heels while you waited for rafe to stuff your throat full. upon his cock springing out of his pants, you whimpered pathetically at the butterflies fluttering in your tummy.

he stroked himself, a groan leaving his lips as he tapped his hardened cock against your tongue. “open that mouth, baby, you know how i like it.” you licked the tip, wrapping your lips around the throbbing head as he threaded his fingers in your hair. “i work all day, deal with my dad’s shit, fuck— all just to come home to that bratty behavior of yours..” he cursed under his breath as you took him deeper into your mouth. “ungrateful sluts like you deserve to be used like this.” you moaned around his length, your eyes widening when he hit the back of your throat.

“oh, my god,” rafe’s jaw went slack, his head tilting to the side as he watched you take him in and out of those pretty lips of yours. “look at me, give me those eyes.” you pulled away for a moment, gasping for air as you flashed your teary orbs at him. rafe didn’t know the logic behind it, but seeing you cry, so drunk off of his cock, he swore it was the hottest thing he’s ever seen. “holy, fuck!” he smiled down at you, his hips stuttering as you took him inch by glorious inch. “my greedy little cock whore, ‘doing so good for me.” you batted your eyes innocently, the action making him hiss.

“i wish you were good all the time, now i have to hurt you, bambi.” he pulled you up, lifting you off of the ground before slamming you down on the bed. you gasped at the impact, your boyfriend sliding your bottoms off before giving you a light smack across your cheek. “you’re so wet down here, baby. shit, you’re just glistening.” rafe tore your thighs apart, unbuttoning his shirt and slipping it off as you ran a foot down his toned stomach. he pinned your thighs to your chest, his hands resting on the back of your knees. “you want this?” he ran his cock between your folds.

your eyes fluttered shut, his tip grazing your needy clit. “please give it to me. ‘wanna be good for you again!” you cried, a sob ripping itself from your throat as he thrusted into you without warning. “fuck!” rafe covered your mouth, ripping your top off so he could watch your tits bounce underneath him. the slick sound of your cunt filled the space of rafe’s room, your cheeks heating as you listened to yourself make a mess on his cock. “so fuckin’ tight, you’re pulling me back in,” he groaned, “i might just fill you up, ‘trap you with my baby..” you moaned, unintentionally clenching around him.

“you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he pulled your hair, forcing you to look down at where you two were connected. you moaned, your lips parting as you watched him pull out and slowly slide back in. “this cock looks like it’s splitting you wide open,” he brought a hand down and started rubbing hard circles on your clit, “my pretty little thing.” you cried out, your back arching off of the mattress when you felt the familiar tension building in your core. his hand was damn near the size of your head, your eyes rolling back as his cock kissed your cervix with every thrust. “gonna.. oh, my god!”

rafe groaned when your orgasm hit you, a piercing scream leaving your lips as a stream of wetness soaked his lower abdomen. you laid there shaking, your nails raking down rafe’s chest as you sucked him in impossibly tighter. taking his bottom lip between his teeth, rafe didn’t slow down the work on your sensitive bundle of nerves, overstimulation setting in when you started taking the pleasure with the pain. “no more!” you gasped, your thighs closing around his waist as you attempted to squirm away from his touch. he slapped you across your cheek, forcing you to keep your eyes open.

“you’re gonna fuckin’ take it. this is what you wanted when you decided to act the way you were acting earlier, huh? shut the fuck up and take this cock.” he shoved your head into the pillows, the entirety of his palm covering your face as he chased his own high, ignoring your screams and cries. rafe watched the tears flow down your cheeks, his fingers becoming wet as he groaned at the sight. “keep crying for me and i’m gonna breed this fuckin’ cunt— ah fuckkk!” rafe leaned down, pressing wet kisses to your neck before his hips stuttered, his mouth falling open in a silent moan.

“fuckin’ hell!” he uncovered your face, admiring the pretty curve of your lips while he came, those gorgeous eyes just twinkling up at him while he filled you to the brim with his seed. rafe nestled himself deep inside of you, stilling his movements as you two reveled in the feeling of his cum painting the softness of your walls. looking into his eyes, you could see the exact moment he switched into being your boyfriend again, his gaze softening as he cupped your face, his cock still twitching inside of you. pulling out with a curse, rafe was quick to pull you against his chest.

“you okay, bambi?” he pecked your cheek, rubbing a hand against your side as you blinked, still unable to form thoughts as your body occasionally jolted with the aftershocks of your orgasm. you didn’t answer, instead you snuggled into his skin, your eyes shutting as sleep pulled at your lids. you were going to be so sore tomorrow, your muscles already aching as rafe pulled the comforter over the two of you.

[maybanksmusings]

THE WALLS ; JJ MAYBANK

SYNOPSIS ; when an unknown face appears in the outer banks searching for a father she's never met, she's unaware of how her life is about to be completely turned upside down.

WARNINGS ; jjmaybank x routledge!reader, strong language, depictions of violence, afab!reader, sexual content, mentions of abuse, drug and alcohol consumption, strangers to lovers, fast burn to slow burn, canon adjacent, not proofread.

AUTHORS NOTE ; no yapping today

part one. part two.

you never knew how relaxing it was to lay in the sun, the steady movements of the boat gently rocking you side to side. it was almost as if you hadn't set fire to everything you and john b grew up believing.

john b knew his mom took off when he was a kid, what he didn't know was that she was pregnant when she left. you thought that your dad died and your mom lived in your hometown her entire life.

both of you agreed that, for now at least, this branch of the family tree would be kept from the others until you've had enough time to fully wrap your heads around everything without the added input from everyone else.

"ladies and losers." john b claps, grabbing the attention of everyone on board "with the newest addition to our dysfunctional family," he gestures in your direction earning applause from the group, with the addition of a cheer from jj "the no pouge-on-pouge macking rule is still in full effect, just in case anyone has forgotten."

you don't miss the glare sent in jj's direction, the blond in question, however, was too busy making a face at you to even notice that he was the target of that rule.

it takes everything in you not to laugh, you understand why the rule may have been implemented in the past. young kids making up rules to protect their friendship. but you surely were all old enough and mature enough to handle real adult relationships.

"does our newest recruit partake?" pope asked throwing a can of beer to jj and kiara before looking at you once more.

"are you forgetting she was flat drunk when she went all cat woman on topper?" kiara joked, cracking open her can and raising it to you "to passing your initiation."

"and to beating the shit out of a kook!"

"here here!"

you sit up to bow as the others raise their cans to you, unable to stop the soft laugh that escapes as you sit up again "thank you, thank you. i'd like to thank my agent, my manager,"

john b jokingly shoves your shoulder to shut you up "a little humility wouldn't kill you, you know."

"humility is for losers" you taunt, making your way over to the cooler to see for yourself what was inside "besides, you owe me so humility is redundant."

before you can continue excusing your incoming speech, you're jolted forward by a sudden bump in the boat. you lose your footing, grabbing the closest thing to you and dragging it into the water with you.

person. the closest person to you and dragging them into the water with you.

you were a pretty decent swimmer, decent enough to not drown at least, but when you hit the water, any swimming ability was replaced with dread. truth be told you shouldn't be surprised, not even twenty four hours ago someone did in fact try to drown you so it was only natural you began to panic.

your brain was begging your body to do something, to override your fear with instinct, but no matter what you did all you could do was kick and flail.

you cling to the familiar frame dragging you to the surface, wrapping your arms and legs around him like a koala clung to a tree. you hid your face in the crook of jj's neck to shield your tears from the group, even if there was a chance you could explain it away as water in your eyes.

"you're okay, baby" jj coos, his hand cradling the back of your head "you're safe, i got you."

"the fuck was that!?" kiara shouts, helping the boys drag you and jj back onto the boat.

pope peers out over the edge, trying to catch a glimpse of anything that could be in the water "guys, i think we hit a boat?" he calls out over his shoulder.

almost as if in sync, jj and john b exchanged a knowing look. they knew what it meant, from what you learned so far they've been attached at the hip for years so it wasn't a shock that they had some weird telepathy.

without a word from either of them, they dive off the side of the boat and into the water, undoubtedly to scout out whatever pope had spotted. neither kiara or pope showed much of a reaction, probably because they were used to their antics.

you, on the other hand, sat by the edge of the boat and peered into the murky water below. you were holding your breath, waiting for any sort of sign of life from either of the boys.

time passes agonisingly slowly, but soon enough you spot the unmistakable head of brown hair rising to the surface.

"jackpot, baby!" jj hollers, throwing his arms into the air in celebration "one poor bastard made aggie mad, that's a seriously primo boat."

kiara shrugs "what do those kooks expect, they're harming the environment with their flashy boats, it's karma."

"easy there, greenpeace." john b huffs, pulling himself up and into the boat "mother natures most recent victim could have all sorts of profitable shit inside."

"exibit a," jj announces proudly, producing a silver canister from his pocket "would our newest pledge like to do the honours?"

"i would love to incriminate myself by stealing private property!" you exclaim, sarcasm dripping off of every syllable. nonetheless, you take it from him and shake its contents onto the floor of the boat.

the metallic clang makes everyone wince, the group sighing in disappointment of seeing what was inside.

"wow, greaat, almost died over a lousy compass." jj groans, plopping himself down into a seat.

"it isn't a lousy compass," you mutter, scrambling to retrieve your fathers' compass from your backpack and comparing the two side by side.

they were identical.

"cause that isnt freaky.." pope mumbled, peering over your shoulder.

when you look to john b, he's already looking at you, knowing exactly who this compass used to belong to.

"it's a set," your voice sounds like you have just joined the dots of a brain wracking mystery.

"two compasses, one for each kid."

before anyone can question what exactly john b meant by that, a sharp noise zips past your ear, grazing the top of your arm and scaring the shit out of you.

the five of you look towards the source of the noise, another boat is coming towards the hms pouge, and the two men on board looked far from pleased as they aimed their guns right at the five of you.

"shit, shit!" john b ducks into the drivers seat and hits the gas, jolting all of you backwards as you sped through the marsh "get down!"

you all do as instructed, laying face down on the boats floor, rocking with every sharp, zig-zagged movement john b made. each of you flinch every time a metallic ding rings out against the boat's exterior, you hear kiara humming a tune to keep her mind occupied.

your eyes scan the boat for anything that could help, an idea coming to you the second you spot an old fishing net.

"y/n, what are you doing!? get down!"

you ignore popes shouts, moving quickly to gather up the net and toss it off the back of the boat. as you had hoped, the aggressors' boat gets caught up in the net, allowing john b to get you all out of there without harm.

"you moronic genius!" john b half praises, half scolds, the moment the boat stops at the chateau's dock. grabbing your shoulders and giving you a shake "what is with you and almost dying?"

"a thank you wouldn't hurt," you retort, the throbbing sting in your upper arm still as prominent as when it first happened "this poor girl couldn't handle it."

you pat the side of the hms as you climb off, your fellow pouges following behind as you all tiredly drag your feet towards the house.

"looks gnarly," jj remarked, appearing beside you and focusing his gaze on the small wound on your arm "here, lemme help out."

you are very much aware that it's nothing more than a surface wound, barely a graze, yet you allowed jj to lead you over to the hammock and sit you down.

when he headed inside to grab what he needed, you sank into the comfort of the hammock and closed your eyes. the slight breeze, the gentle rocking of the hammock, the warm sun burning down on you. it does a good job of helping you decompress from the insanity that ensued since your arrival.

the hammock shifts under you when jj returns, the extra weight tilting the fabric to bring you closer to him. he doesn't want to speak, to disturb you in your peaceful bubble. he knows he's staring but he can't look away.

"you just got here and you already look like you've been put through the wringer." jj jokes, though there's a clear sense of seriousness underneath.

and he isn't wrong, the bluish bruises staining your throat from toppers hand, and now the blood smeared all over your arm which made it look much worse than it was.

"two near-death experiences will do that,"

"two near-death experiences so far.."

you know he's telling the truth, but you can't help but laugh as he helps you sit up. a comfortable silence falls between you as he wipes around the graze with a cloth, before gently placing a bandaid over the wound.

the close proximity doesn't seem to phase either of you, at least not enough to get anyone to move. without a word, he reclines back into the hammock, an arm out in a silent invitation.

you reason with yourself that it was harmless, john b's 'macking' rule echoing in your ears as you considered your options. realistically speaking, both you and jj knew this was far from harmless but more like the edge of a slippery slope you could both snowball down.

but you were tired, and it was jj, and the others weren't even around to see it.

no harm, no foul, right?

taglist!

@rainingcecilias @gigistalked @loverofmarsss

[v6quewrlds]

❝ kiss me, m. mount. ❞  ‎ ‎ ┉  

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀summary: being friends with mason mount means being there with takeout and open ears after his breakups. with his latest locker room bet, he has a lot of time to think about why he's so bad at relationships. and the reason might be you.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀author's note: loved writing this, so so cute <3 day eleven of my no nut november series.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀warnings: smut, please do not interact with my work if you are under 18. language, friends to lovers.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀pairing: mason mount x reader.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀word count: 2.6k.

You sat cross-legged on Mason's couch. The room smelled faintly of your favorite takeout, a mix of jerk chicken and rice and peas that filled your stomachs and warmed the air. Despite the comfort of your shared laughter, you could feel the tension coiled in Mason's demeanor, the result of a tough match and an even tougher breakup.

“So, what happened?” you asked, your voice gentle and curious.

Mason sighed, running a hand through his buzzed hair. “It was like pulling teeth. She didn't get why I had to end it. Kept saying we could work through it.”

“But you've both been miserable for weeks,” you said, your eyebrows furrowing in concern. “I thought she'd be relieved.”

Mason's eyes darted around the room before landing on his phone. “I don't know, she just... didn't take it well.”

You leaned over and plucked the phone from his hand. “Come on, spill it. What did she say?”

Mason's cheeks flushed as he recounted the teary conversation. “She said I'd never find someone who loves me like she does. It was all a bit dramatic, really.”

You rolled your eyes. “Classic breakup line.”

Mason snorted, a half-hearted smile playing on his lips. “I know, right? But it still stings a bit 'cause I know I'm the problem, not her.”

You put down your takeout container, leaning closer to him. “Mase, what do you mean?”

Mason rubbed the back of his neck, looking sheepish. “I guess I'm not ready to be in a real relationship, you know? Just something I've gotta work on.”

You studied him, your brown eyes searching his. “You're not giving yourself enough credit. You're a catch, Mason. A bit of a knobhead at times,” she teased, “but you've got a heart of gold.”

Mason chuckled, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “Cheers, love. Breakup came at a good time though, 'cause I've got this bet with the United lads.”

“Oh?” you raised an eyebrow. “What bet?”

Mason's grin grew shy. “No Nut November. You know, the challenge where you don't... you know.”

Your eyes narrowed in disbelief, then you burst into laughter. “You're actually doing that?”

Mason nodded, his cheeks darkening. “Yeah, for a bit of a laugh, you know? See how long we can last without... indulging.”

You couldn't help but smirk. “So, what, you're all just walking around like a bunch of pent-up teenagers?”

“Pretty much,” Mason admitted, his smile turning into a grimace. “It's a good thing, really. Keeps my head in the game.”

You nodded, your amusement clear. “And your hands out of your pants,” you quipped.

Mason playfully slapped your arm. “You're one to talk, Miss ‘I've been single since forever’.”

Zara laughed, shrugging. “At least I'm not making bets about it!”

Mason rolled his eyes. “By the end of the month, I'll be the most zen person you know,” he said, puffing his chest at the thought, a boyish grin pulling at his lips.

“Mm-hmm,” you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “And what do you get if you win this challenge?”

Mason shrugged. “Bragging rights, I guess. Works for me.”

The rest of November rolled by with you keeping a close eye on Mason's mood swings. His frustration grew palpable as the days ticked away, his jokes about the challenge turned from light-hearted to desperate. Every time you saw him, you made sure to ask about his progress, enjoying the way his face contorted in an attempt to hide his growing irritation.

“How's the zen life treating you?” you teased, your eyes gleaming with amusement.

Mason groaned dramatically. “Don't even start, Zee.”

You couldn't hold back your laughter. “Seriously, though, you've got to be close to breaking point by now?”

Mason's brown eyes narrowed playfully. “Why're you so eager to see me fail? You're supposed to be supportive.”

You leaned back, your hand on your chest. “Me? I'm just an innocent bystander, observing the madness that is No Nut November.”

Mason threw a pillow at you, which you deftly caught. “You're a sadist, you know that?”

“Just keeping it real, Mase,” you said, tossing the pillow back.

The last week of November was the hardest for Mason. You noticed he'd become quieter, his laughter less frequent. It was as if he was deep in thought whenever he was off the pitch. The banter between the two of you took on an edge of tension, his jokes a little less playful, his responses a little more curt. Worried, you sent a text to Declan, who had only told you that Mason had reached an “epiphany” during their most recent chat a few nights back.

On the final day of the month, you were at your flat, expecting a typical evening of binge-watching reality TV shows and scrolling through social media. But when your doorbell rang, you were surprised to find Mason standing there, a bouquet of flowers in hand.

“Mason?” you asked, taking in his slightly nervous expression.

He held out the flowers, a blush spreading across his cheeks. “I know it's random, but I had to tell you something, and I figured flowers might help ease the blow if you decide to laugh in my face.”

You took the bouquet, feeling the weight of the moment. You stepped aside, inviting him in with a tilt of your head. “Alright, come in, I guess. What's going on?”

Mason shuffled his feet, his gaze darting around the room before settling on you. “I had a chat with Declan and Lauren, about, you know, relationships and stuff. And they got me thinking about what I really want.”

Your heart skipped a beat, but you played it cool. “Oh?”

Mason nodded, his eyes searching yours. “Yeah, and I realized something. Every time I'm with someone, I can't help but picture you there instead. It's like you're this standard in my head, and no one ever measures up to what I think it would be like to be with you.”

You felt a warmth spread through your chest, your grip tightening on the flowers. You didn't know what to say, your mind racing with a mix of excitement and disbelief. Before you could respond, Mason took a step closer.

“I know it's weird,” he continued, his voice low and earnest. “And I know you probably think I'm out of my mind. But I can't stop thinking about it. I've never felt this way about anyone else, not even close.”

Your throat went dry as you stared at him, the words you wanted to hear for so long finally hanging in the air between you. You parted your lips to respond, but left unable to answer, you simply closed the gap and kissed him instead.

The kiss was gentle, a soft press of your lips that grew more urgent with every passing second. Mason's arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer as your hand found its way to the back of his neck. The flowers fell to the floor, forgotten in the heat of the moment.

Mason's breath was warm against your skin as you broke apart, his eyes searching yours for any sign of doubt or rejection. But all he saw was the same longing that mirrored his own.

“Was that okay?” he whispered, his voice ragged with emotion.

You nodded, your heart hammering in your chest. “More than okay.” You stepped closer to him, your eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “I don't think I realized how much I've been waiting for this either,” you admitted.

Mason's eyes widened, and then he was kissing you again, more urgently this time. You stumbled backward, your bodies colliding with the wall of your hallway, your hands exploring each other with a newfound hunger. The tension of the past few weeks dissolved into pure passion, the air between the two of you crackling with the electricity of a year's worth of unspoken desires.

You didn't speak as you made your way to the bedroom, your kisses speaking volumes. The room was dimly lit by the flickering of the TV, casting shadows across your faces as you shed your clothes. Mason paused, his eyes raking over your body, his gaze lingering on the curves he had only ever seen hidden beneath baggy sweatshirts and jeans, except for the occasional glimpse at the pool or beach.

You felt a shy warmth up your neck, but you held his gaze, your own desire matching his. You fell onto the bed, your kisses becoming more heated as your bodies entwined. Mason's touch was gentle, almost reverent, as he explored you with his hands, his thumbs brushing over your hips and ribs, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

Your breath hitched as Mason's lips found your neck, kissing a path down to your collarbone. His hands were firm but tender as he unclipped your bra, and you felt the coolness of the room against your bare skin. You reached out to trace the tattoos scattered along his arms and the one at the nape of his neck, the one you had been surprised he got in the first place. His muscles tensed under your touch, and he let out a soft groan.

Your kisses grew more urgent as you moved together on the bed, the mattress squeaking gently beneath you. You felt your heart racing, your body responding to every touch, every caress. Mason's fingers danced over your skin, igniting a fire you had long ago convinced yourself you didn't feel. But here it was, burning bright and uncontrollable.

“Sensitive?” you teased, the words spoken softly against Mason's mouth as your fingers traced the ink on his ribs.

Mason chuckled, his eyes never leaving yours. “Only for you, love.”

Your laughter melded into a passionate kiss as you rolled over, you now on top of him. You felt powerful and alive, every inch of your skin tingling with the anticipation of what was to come. Mason's hands slid up your back, his fingertips tracing the contours of your body as you moved against him.

You felt a sudden jolt of nerves. This was it, the moment you didn't know you longed for so much. You had always been the quiet, reserved one, content to watch from the sidelines. But here you were, the star of the show, your heart pounding like a drum in your chest.

Mason must have noticed, because he gently cupped your face with his hands, his thumbs stroking your cheeks. “We can stop if you want to. I just had to tell you how I feel.”

But you were beyond the point of no return. You leaned down, your eyes searching his, and whispered, “Don't you dare stop, Mason. I want this. More than you know.”

Mason's eyes lit up, the nervousness dissipating as he rolled you two over, taking control with a gentle force. His kisses grew more demanding, his hands more insistent, and you found yourself lost in the sensation. The months of friendship had built a bond between you, and now, as you finally gave in to your desires, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

Your movements grew more frantic, your breaths mingling as you raced towards something you hadn't dared hope for. You could feel the tension in Mason's body, the same tension that had been building in him all month, and you reveled in the power you had over him.

As you reached your climax, it was as if a dam had broken, releasing a flood of emotions and years of unspoken feelings. The two of you clung to each other, your bodies slick with sweat, your hearts beating in sync.

Afterwards, you lay tangled in the mess of your passion, hands still roaming, hearts still racing. The silence was comfortable, filled with the quiet whispers of your breathing and the occasional giggle when a limb got tangled. You felt a warmth spread through you that was unlike anything you had ever felt before, a sense of belonging that you hadn't realized you had been missing. His chest, firm and warm, made a perfect pillow for your cheek, and you listened to the steady thump of his heart as it slowly returned to normal.

Mason finally broke the silence, his voice a low rumble that vibrated against your skin. “So, I guess I failed No Nut November, huh?”

You looked up at him, your eyes sparkling with warmth. “Epic fail, Mount. But totally worth it, if you ask me.”

Mason chuckled, his arms tightening around you. “I guess that's one way to look at it. I'm just relieved it's over, to be honest. Made my head all fuzzy sometimes.”

You traced your finger along the line of his jaw, feeling the neatly groomed hair against your fingertip. “Well, you've got thirty days of freedom coming your way. What are you going to do with it?”

Mason's smile was soft, his eyes still on yours. “I'm thinking of spending it with you, if that's alright?”

You giggled softly and nodded, your heart racing. “Yeah, I think I could manage that,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. “What was that chat with Declan and Lauren about, though?”

Mason leaned in, his breath tickling your ear. “Remember when I said I needed to sort myself out before I could be in a good relationship? They just pointed out the obvious. That there was something holding me back, something I hadn't faced. Like I was holding on to some... I don't know, hope maybe?”

You felt his words resonate deep within you. You had often wondered if Mason had felt the same way you did but had been too scared to admit it. You took a deep breath, your heart racing. “And what did you tell them?”

Mason's eyes searched yours, a hint of vulnerability in his gaze. “That I always hoped that I'd eventually end up with you. That every girl I've been with, it was like I was just filling the time until you and I were ready for more.”

Your breath hitched at his words, your heart swelling in your chest. You had felt the same way but had never had the courage to voice it. The two of you lay there, your hearts beating in time, basking in the reality of your confessions. Years' worth of tension had led you to this moment, a culmination of unspoken feelings and hidden glances.

“You know,” you began, your voice shaky as you suppressed a giggle, “I wondered if we'd ever just give up on dating and just be together. We've both been horrid partners.”

Mason chuckled, his eyes shimmering with affection. “Yeah, but I think we've found our match in each other. Besides, I've had enough drama for a lifetime with the other ones. You're the one who's always been there for me, no matter what.”

You leaned your head on his chest again, listening to the steady thump of his heart. “And I always will be,” you murmured.

Mason's hand found yours, lacing your fingers together. “My mum always said that when you know, you know. And I think I've known for a while now. I just didn't know how to tell you without messing up our friendship.”

You squeezed his hand. “I don't think much will change between us, honestly. We'll just be a bit more... affectionate in public, I guess?”

Mason nodded, his smile growing. “And I get to kiss you wherever I want,” he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, “whenever I want,” he kissed your nose, “without worrying if it's too soon or if it'll ruin the friendship.” His lips found yours again.

You sighed contentedly against his mouth. “You're a really good kisser, you know that?”

Mason grinned. “Years of practice.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile betrayed your amusement. “Gross, you've been kissing a bunch of other girls to get good at kissing me?”

Mason's expression turned playfully offended. “Hey, I've been preparing for this moment my whole life. I promise it's all been worth it, though. You're officially the best kiss I've ever had.”

You giggled, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “I'll take it I guess.”

[captain039]

Part 4 Heal your hurt

Viktor x reader

Warnings: Hurt/comfort, angst, health issues, mental health issues, light swearing, chubby reader, intimacy, smut, friends to lovers, reader has chronic pain

warnings for the smut when it happens xD: Dominant Viktor, needy Viktor, needy ready, oral F and M receiving, praises, first times, riding, body worship, marking

Previous part <-

It’s been days since you’ve seen Viktor. It’s normal for him to go off for days without returning, just this time it feels targeted. Your last interaction was a whirlwind and you figure he needs some space to process what happened, hell you still need to process what happened. His voice was sharp and firm unlike his usual self. You bush yourself with your book, your MC’s have finally confessed and shared a steamy night which left you giggling to yourself till you imagined it was you and Viktor and then you contemplated. When Viktor does stumble home it’s 2 at night. You weren’t asleep, your hips aching from sitting all day. You were awkwardly lying on your stomach three pillows under your hips which somehow helped a bit. You just hoped he’d not look in and see you in this awkward position. You weren’t able to close your curtains so the moonlight was shining in. You hear him shuffle, sigh, place things down before he shuffles some more then stops.

“Are- are you awake?” Viktors uncertain voice comes from your doorway.

“I uh- maybe” you say turning your head so you’re facing him. Your bed is in a position so you can see out the door on your side.

“Is there a reason for such a position?” He asks head tilting a bit.

“Relief?” You say before realising that this in fact looks stupid and suspicious.

“Not like that!- my hips are hurting and if I put pressure on my knees they hurt too so I thought I’d shove pillows under my hips to elevate them and not hurt my knees” you babble in explanation cheeks hot, you’re thankful for your dimly lit room.

“I see” he says simply and you sigh really not wanting to move because even if it looks funny it’s not hurting.

“Are you ok?” You ask and he nods.

“A new project?” You add.

“Something like that” he shrugs a bit and you frown a bit as he looks to the floor instead. You nod and he shifts his weight.

“Goodnight” he says and heads off.

“Viktor-“ you call and move slowly.

“Yes?” He answers stopping.

“Did- did you wanna talk?” You ask sheepishly sitting a little stiffly. He hesitated and you think he’s going to brush you off.

“Can I come in?” He asks and you nod a little too quickly. He walks in and sits down beside you resting his cane beside him. You switch your lamp on wincing at the pain throbbing.

“A bad day?” He asks noticing and you sigh and nod.

“You know when I was growing up, I was always open about my pain, sharing it with my mum because I didn’t know what was going on, always crying in agony leaning on her for help. She let me, she helped me every step of the way and then she got sick when I was 18 and I just, bottled it all up. My father became a drunk and I had to do everything around the house and suffer in silence, if I showed any weakness in front of him I knew something would happen. Then my mother passed away and I shut everything down. I forced myself to think that none of this pain was real, made myself work and live alone even if I’d sometimes collapse from exhaustion” you open up to him staring at the floor as memory’s wash over of painful, sleepless nights.

“It’s worse at night” he says softly and you look to him.

“There’s a throb of pain from my ankle to knee to hip that goes up my spine” you feel your heart break at his words.

“It isn’t a one off throb, it’s constant, like a heartbeat pulsing” he adds.

“It stiffens my joints and muscles makes them cramp and tense” your hand twitches to hold his, but you don’t want to scare him.

“Mine is focused, thankfully. Yours is everywhere? Not just your legs and hips?” He asks and you nod.

“My shoulders, neck, arms, chest, ribs” you list sagging a bit to relieve some of the pain in your hips.

“A screw over of creation” you mutter insulting yourself.

“You are not, a ‘screw over of creation’” Viktor says frowning.

“You are beautiful, perfectly imperfect” you look to him noticing his eyes on you intensely and you feel a swell of emotion. You take a small breath and look away embarrassed.

“Were you away a few days because of what happened between us?” You whisper, you know it’s silly thinking but it still lingered.

“I- yes” he sighs and it stings but you nod.

“I don’t know what came over me” he mutters leaning against his cane.

“You were bossy” you try to joke lightly.

“I was” he smiles softly.

“Feelings, are complex, a puzzle I cannot solve with the equation constantly changing every second, there is no answer for emotions and feelings” his words make you frown lightly in thought.

“That’s what makes us human” you say shrugging a bit.

“I learnt to control my emotions very young, when they spiral so do my thoughts and I cannot have a jumble of thoughts as an inventor” you understand what he’s saying, sort of, you get where his point of view is coming from.

“You cannot have emotions when inventing otherwise you mess up” he adds and for some reason it leaves a hole in your heart, a string breaking.

“But you- you bring these feelings forwards, emotions I cannot understand, but it doesn’t… make me spiral in a way I don’t enjoy” his admission makes you tense on the spot and you hold breath thinking this is some sort of dream.

“When we were young, you never shied away from me or my strange inventions, you were always intrigued you never left me alone” he smiles faintly and you do to. It was true, you hardly let him be by himself whenever you were out.

“I was found by the academy, moved through training to be an assistant. I always wondered if I’d see you again” he says softly.

“The first time I did I didn’t believe it, I was heading home very late and I saw you, exhausted in a dirty white shirt and black pants covered in flour” you frown lightly he saw you coming home from work.

“I thought I was going mad seeing you, but then I saw you again, and again, same time leaving the bakery” he explains.

“I never saw you” you say confused.

“I didn’t want you to see me” he says and you frown.

“What- why?” You say baffled.

“You were so beautiful” he whispers and you feel your heart skip a beat.

“Sweaty, covered in flour and dirt?” You ask.

“Raw, unrefined, perfectly imperfect” he mutters.

“I saw your advertisement for a shared apartment and for selfish reasons I took it down and contacted you about it” you remember that day. Getting a letter signed with the letter V when you saw him at the apartment you were shocked. You figured V stood for Victoria or something like that, his hand writing was so neat.

“I watched you over the years, you’d become your own woman and I my own man, I watched the way you pushed yourself when you were working, finding you passed out on the couch, still in dirty work clothes” you remember the day Viktor had talked to you about your job, saying he could afford it if you quit, you’d never been so relieved in your life but you swore to work for rent another way. So you worked out a system you’ve stuck by. You wondered what he was getting at thought with all this reminiscing.

“I started- to fall” he says and you frown, fall? Fall in work? Life?

“Fall?” You say confused.

“In love” he says and you freeze processing.

“In love” you repeat and he nods.

“With- me?” You add.

“Yes with you” he confirms and you blink a few times.

“You fell in love with me?” You repeat.

“I did” he says.

“You did? You’re not anymore?” You frown and you hear him sigh annoyed, a hand goes to your face and forces you to look at him before lips are pressed against yours. You’re shell shocked before you kiss back hand lifting up to grip his vest.

“I sometimes forget you’re a little oblivious to things” he mutters against your lips you go to argue back but he silences you with his lips again. His thumb strokes against your cheek and you’re the one to pull back to breathe. His hand falls and you pant softly as you process the kiss.

“I’m not oblivious” you finally manage and you hear him laugh softly. It’s one of the rare times you’ve seen him laugh.

Next part ->

[gildeddlily]

season 2 started off beautifully. I was ecstatic at the end of episode three, for the simple reason that it had the same spirit as season 1. Vi feeling like she made a mistake so big trying to reach Powder instead of seeing Jinx and the danger she represented that the only way to fix that for her was to join her oppressors. Caitlyn destroying all the progress she'd made, unlearning what she'd been taught about Zaun by being with zaunites like Vi, the moment one of them killed her mother, and embracing her roots we can say, talking of bad blood and "I thought you were different"- showing that the internalised racism was always there ready to resurface the moment it had an excuse to. Caitlyn saying that her mother being killed by a teenager who's never dealt with her trauma and mental illness is the same thing as Vi's parents being killed by members of a military institution, disregarding everything she knew about the pain and abuse Vi went through because of the Enforcers. a "men get abused too" situation, in which one ignores the social and historical background of that type of violence to feel less sorry about it. they were perfectly well written, because they are things we see everyday. my father taught me as a child that black people crossing the Mediterranean to look for work in Italy were a good thing, and now that he's had problems at work with one he's started saying the opposite. a gay man I knew laughed at trans folks and said they made things worse for us, ridiculing them in the company of straight people to feel less threatened. (not the exact same thing as what happened to Vi, but you get what I mean).

those are real things, and Arcane has always been good at showing real things.

later on, episode seven, Jayce fell down. he landed in the deepest hole of Zaun, broke his leg, was forced to wear a brace to walk, suffered and had to claw his way back to the surface, to Piltover, in a strange metaphor of Viktor's journey and life (saw a post talking even more beautifully about this, will put the link here if I find it again), and once he met Viktor again, he told him his illness, his legs, he, were beautiful. not despite everything. because of it. and now he can understand him a little more. now he says "your imperfections are beautiful" and we can believe him, because he's not speaking from the perspective of a man trying to convince his friend to stop harming others. he's a man trying to make his partner see that he still loves him, now that he's finally understood him after years of trying to reach the truth and always being stopped by something, and that he understands him enough to know why he's harming others, and that he cares for him enough to think that he will be able to understand why it's wrong. it's Viktor accepting the inevitability of being seen by someone who went to hell and back to reach him.

those were fucking beautiful arcs. they were.

and then?

Vi saw Caitlyn become what she'd always said she wouldn't become, and there were no repercussions. Catelyn got to walk away and live all the same. she lost an eye to Ambessa, but it was no punishment for what she'd done. how many people did she harm? how many people did her actions have repercussions on? Vi shouted at her once, and then it was like it had never happened- which is still real, I guess. it happens everyday. but I didn't see any wish to make us see how that was wrong. I don't want to be told "this is wrong", I'm old enough and smart enough to understand this, but I also think I can see the difference between trying to show deeper meanings and not wanting to deal with difficult plot lines.

and Zaun? it was sad. pathetic. years of abuse were what, forgotten and then vanished in thin air because there was a common enemy? that, sadly, isn't real. it isn't. years or oppression can't be forgotten so easily, not by the oppressed, for one "glorious" fight. it's lazy. what started as a good depiction of reality turned into an american wet dream of big fights and sad sacrifice scenes and epic love stories that cross any difficulty, and economic and social difference. don't you dare say something against Caitlyn and Vi's ending, they went through all that, they deserve nice things. they do. many other people did. no one cared about them tho.

so.

epic failure. good soundtracks tho.