#i was gonna make something but i just came home and it's already half past 4 pm

[a-b-riddle]

Part Six

Can't stop thinking about reader finally giving the boys a taste of their own medicine. And hurting my own feelings in the process of it all. I wanted to make this a baddie reader chapter, but its just a saddie reader chapter. I played Down Bad by T.S on repeat while writing this. Y'all need to thank @blueladys-world for being my ventor for this part.

None of them came the next day to pick up the box of everything you had collected. By everything, quite literally everything. Birthday cards and gifts. Keepsakes from your time together they had given you. Even going as far as returning lingerie they had given you. You didn't want any trace of them in your home anymore. You were gonna have to work hard in rebuilding it to be your safe space once again.

You were surprised that someone from the expo had DM'd you. Renée was an author who had tried to stop by to your stand, but got too caught up in the day. She was in London, working on her next series installment and wanted to pick your brain. Writer to writer.

The two of you agreed on a time. She had mentioned wanting to try this restaurant the last time she visited and you already knew you would be putting that meal on a credit card. It was a bit of splurge, but after the past week you deserved it. You could even wear that sexy black number that had been collecting dust in your closet.

By the time you were done getting ready and squeezing into your dress, you looked more ready for a date than dinner with a colleague.

A colleague. You had a colleague!!!

The knock on the door pulled you from your girlish glee. You didn't need to guess who it was. Your friends knew to text you before they came over and Renée had agreed just to meet you at the restaurant.

It was one of them.

You didn't even t bother looking through your peephole before you opened the door to find Johnny standing there with a floral arrangement of your favorite flowers.

Johnny began to speak, afraid you were going to shut him down immediately no less. But no words came out. His eyes traveled up and down your body, taking you in.

A vision.

You wanted to snap at him that your eyes weren't located on your hips. But damn if it didn’t feel empowering seeing Johnny’s gaze gloss over.

"Fuck me." He swore, gathering his bearings before realizing you were dressed. In a sexy black dress and heels and makeup and oh, fuck you were going out. "Where are you going?"

"First off, none of your business," you said holding a finger up. "And secondly, what are you doing here?"

"Listen," "Bon-"

"The box is right there." You said pointing to a large cardboard box on the floor. "That's everything."

"If you just let me make it-"

"Up to me?" You cut him off again. "I'm over it. Really."

"Just give me a chance."

"Either you haven't spoken to the other two to know I am well and truly done with this situationship, or you’re hoping some half-ass apology and flowers will let you get a last fuck in and the skedaddle. So hopefully if it was latter, hopefully the former answered that for ya.”

So if that's all you came here for, I've got to get going. My reservation is at seven and it's rude to keep a friend waiting."

"It's been a week and you're already going on a date?" He accused.

"Who said anything about a date?" You didn't outright say it wasn't. Where would be the fun in that? “It's just dinner with a colleague.” You didn’t want to lie. It wasn’t a date. But you didn’t need to say it was a woman. “Hardly a date.”

“Look at the sight of ye!" He said, taking the opportunity to take a quick look at how deliciously your ass filled that dress. “A fookin’ dinner with a colleague. Like one of us would show up to a briefing like that.” You opened your compact. Not needed in the age of cellphones but loving the feminine touch.

There was something so... seductive about using a compact mirror to apply your lipstick.

“Kyle does have the legs for this dress.” You said, applying that lipstick he loves. That same shade that looked beautiful on your lips. The same lipstick you would mark all over Johnny’s body. “Believe what you want. Not my problem anymore.”

You put your compact back in your purse along with the lipstick in case you needed to reapply it after dinner.

Johnny's eyes zeroed in on your lips before his eyes met yours. That's when you felt it again. That undeniably spark of chemistry that you had with him. With all of them. That feeling that sucked the very breath from your lungs and for a moment all you could see was the man in front of you.

"Bonnie," he said placing his hands on your neck. His thumbs stroking your cheeks softly. "Just one more chance." He begged, his voice breaking. "I'm a fucking git, but I won't let you go again. I won't leave." You knew that when it came to promises, Johnny had proven that even if he didn't mean to break them, he had forgotten he made them in the first place.

But in that moment you didn't care. Even after everything, Meredith was right. You had loved them. Everything else had ended so shitty. John had blamed you. Kyle had only shown up until it was too late. And Simon. The last time you would ever hear his voice was after he said such cruel things to you.

No.

If you were done with Johnny, you won't let the last time he fucked you being a quick, rough fuck doggystyle before leaving you naked and alone in your bed.

No. The last time with Johnny needed to be good. It might make it harder to finally leave, but you needed this. You needed to know that he could still make love to you and not just fuck you like an animal in heat.

"Johnny?" You asked. Your mouth dangerously close to his. "I don't want you to fuck me."

"I don't have to," he said, starting to take a step back to give you some space before your hands reached his. Holding him in place.

He can't let you go. You couldn't let him go. Not yet. Just one more. You needed just one more time to get him out of your system. The closure you needed.

"Make love to me." You begged, your eyes pleading. "I need to know that I wasn't just something you wanted to fuck." You don't move as his eyes search yours, looking for reassurance. When you nod, his mouth softly touches your own.

His hands travel along your body, but never fully leave you. Sliding your neck to your back. Pulling your body closer to his. A hand placed on your hip so tightly he's afraid you might disappear.

There's no rush, no haste in his touch. His mouth not eager to devour you.

He's slow. With his hands, his tongue. Even when he picks you up and walks to your bedroom with your legs around his waist.

He doesn't throw you on the bed.

Not this time.

He lays you down. His body laying on top of yours. His hand skimming along your bare thighs, but not daring to travel any higher.

But damn you needed him. You wanted love making, but if he didn't get inside you soon, you weren't sure you could let him go after this. You weren't sure you would be able to leave.

"Johnny," you whimpered, pulling away from his mouth. "Please." You took his hand, putting it between your thigh. Aching for any friction.

He obeyed without hesitation. If you told him to get on his bark, he would in that moment. Anything to make you happy. Anything to keep you.

"Got to get you out of this dress first." He resting on his knees before he began to slide the black satin from your thighs to your stomach. You maneuvered, helping him undress you leaving you in nothing.

"I thought you liked the dress." You couldn't help, but tease. Your hand finding its home on the back of his neck, pulling you to him once more.

In a tone lacking any note of humor and in all seriousness, he looked at you. Really looking at you. Taking in how your smile reached your beautiful eyes before he said, "I want you bare to me when I take you."

You felt your stomach flutter at his words before he began to take off his clothes.

He joined you again. His body relaxing when they got between your legs again. His mouth traveled from your exposed neck to your nipples. Sucking and flicking them with his tongue until your back arched. Pressing harder into his mouth.

Your hands tangled in his soft brown hair before you boldly guided him to your already dripping core. He slid down your body before his hands began to push your knees apart until you were fully expose to him.

With your knees bent, Johnny settled on his stomach, placing soft kisses on your soft inner thighs. God, did he love seeing you squirm. He smiled at your tortured expression before looking down at your sex. "There she is." He said before placing a kiss on your pussy.

It wasn't sloppy. He wasn't diving in and licking at your center like so many times before. He was kissing it just as tenderly as he kissed your mouth. Slowly building it deeper and deeper. Adding tongue. Breaking away to readjust his head.

The delicious ache between your thighs began to become to unbearable. "Need you inside me." You panted. "Johnny-"

"Shhh." He soothed. "Got to warm you up first , Bonnie." He said before slipping his finger inside of you. One was all it took before your head settled against the pillows again. When your body relaxed, he added another. He would need to add three to make sure you were good and ready.

His digits stroked that spongy spot inside of you that made your toes curl. "You're barely fitting around my fingers." Johnny was a good 6 inches in length, but the girth is what always did you in. It hurt to take anything past his head into your mouth. If you fucked him without any preparation, especially after a week of no sex, he would tear you into too.

His tongue caressed your clit, your eyes squeezing shut as you felt your first orgasm creeping up on you.

"Johnny." You moaned, your fingers running through his soft brown hair.

"Give it to me, beauty." He panted. "Come on my face. Squeeze my fingers, Lass." He begged before his mouth went back to you.

It was like lightning. Your body now sensitive after being forsaken for so long. Your vision blurred and before you could process it, Johnny was sitting on his haunches between your legs, stroking his cock.

You could only nod, dazed and barely keeping a grip onto the reality of what this was.

The end.

He leaned forward, his cock nestling against you. You knew this was going to be nothing compared to his fingers. "Tell me if I need to stop."

You smiled, mockingly. Reminding him, "Not our first time together, Johnny." just our last.

"You were wrapped tight around my fingers." He gave a half smile before kissing your forehead. The gesture like a knife twisting in your heart. "I just don't want to hurt you."

"I'm ready." You brought your legs around his waist again. Pulling him to you, your arms wrapping around his neck as your mouths meet.

He presses into you. The head of his cock sliding inside just one or two inches. You body contracting around him in a small spasm. He swallows your moan and lets you adjust. He pulls away before looking down where the two of you meet.

"I could die like this, Lass." He said, his breath coming out unsteady as he tries his best to control himself. So close to just burying himself inside of you to the fucking hilt. "Seeing you like this is this first thing I want to see when I make it to the other side." You let out a choked cry as he pushes deeper inside you. Another inch. And another. And another until you're taking all of him.

He slurs something that sound like "fuck", but you are in too much of a daze to care. You arch into him, trying to get closer.

His thrusts are slow and deep. His pubic bone brushing against your clit making you whine and squirm. Begging for more.

You're not sure how long he had fucked you like that.

You needed it to stop.

You couldn't handle it. The softness. His words.

I could die like this, Lass.

Your lip quivered as you told him you wanted to be on top. You needed a moment. A chance to create a bit of space before he shattered your world yet again.

He pulled out. His absence already making you ache for him again before he settled beside you.

You squatted above his cock. Your feet flat against the mattress as you grabbed his hardness and slipping it inside of you. The sound you let out was pornographic. A high pitched, soft moan slipping from your lips as he buried himself inside of you again.

You placed you hands on his chest. Using the leverage to ride him. Your arms serving as barrier for you to get your bearings.

You used his body just as he had used yours. Throwing your head back, you moved faster and faster. Readjusting so your hands went from his chest to his stomach, giving him a better view of your connecting bodies.

His hand slips between the two of you, thumb pressing against your clit, and you tighten even more around. A needy whimper coming out of your throat. The sound mixing in with the sounds of his labored breathing and slapping skin as he begins to fuck up into you.

Even though he had been doing all the work for the last several minutes, you felt the tension start to creep into your calf.

"Fuck fuck fuck." You screech, barely able to hold yourself up any longer. "Ow." You hissed as the cramp took hold.

"Leg cramp?" He asked, not even faltering in his thrusts. You pathetically nod before he takes it upon himself to flip you on your back again.

"I'm going to do this every chance I can." He promises, pressing a searing kiss onto your exposed neck. "Any chance you'll give me." You can't take it. His words, his mouth, his fucking cock. It's too much. "I'm going to show you how much I want you. How much I want to fucking worship ye. Do anything to make you feel good. Not going to leave you again like that, Bonnie."

You reach for him again, pull him into a searing kiss just to shut him up. You need him to shut up. You couldn't take his false promises. You wouldn't survive it. Couldn't.

"Shit." His thrusts quicken, his thumb returning to your swollen bud. Flicking it in a way he had crafted into an art. He buries his face into your neck and you know he's getting close.

You weren't too far behind.

He didn't want to come, not yet, but this was fully out of his control. It was pathetic. A week without sex and you had him nearly coming in the first ten minutes.

But that's what you want. To see him lost in the idea that you would stay.

"Johnny." You groan out. "Please. Cum inside me."

He draws fast, beautiful circles around your clit that immediately push you over the edge. You shut your eyes tight, squeezing him like a vice as you come in strong waves, continuing to push inside you.

in out in out in out.

Deliciously clenching around him tighter and tighter until he can't take it anymore.

"Fuck," he says again, and you see it in his face, and you see it in his face, the second it's all over for him. You want to sear the image in your head. Keep it there forever. Knowing you'll never see it again. The way those enchanting blue eyes squint nearly shut before closing in complete ecstacy.

His mouth would open. A moan caught in his throat that he isn't ready to let go.

His hand closes around your hip, holding you to him while he presses as far as he can go, and it's only then do you feel his cock twitch in quick, jerky movements. He moans out your name before taking your mouth into a searing kiss.

"I fucking love you." He says. "So fucking much."

He was still under the blanket when you returned from the bathroom. You picked up your clothes up from the floor. Looking at the clock realizing you had less than five minutes to get out the door before you would be late for dinner.

"What are you doing?" he asked. You couldn't look at him. Hearing the panic in his voice almost made you stop. Tell him it really was just dinner with a colleague. A woman. That you would be back. Beg him to wait until you came home.

"I can't cancel on the dinner." You said slipping your feet into your heels. "This was a mistake."

You weren't sure why you said it. You weren't sure if you were trying to convince him or yourself. If you wanted to hurt him or make him think you regretted it when you would truthfully do it again. You would do it again and again. You would never stop.

Like Johnny, you could have died in that moment, but for a completely different. Where he would be content, you would be saved from the pain. The pain currently coursing throughout your very soul.

"Lock the door behind you." You say as you practically sprint out the bedroom. Only slowing in your stride to snatch your purse off the kitchen counter before running out. The door slamming behind you.

The restaurant was nicer than you expected. The wine alone was the price of an entree. You didn't seem to be phased at all and were relieved when Renée insisted on picking up the bill.

Your dinner had been delicious and the conversation even better. Renée wrote fantasy romance and wanted to pick your brain about a Why Choose. You had nearly spent out the over priced wine you weren't even really enjoying. Oh the irony.

"It's like all the rage now, but it's hard to make more than one appealing as the love interest. You should have seen the Goodreads comments on my last book. So many people bitched about my FMC not ending up with a character who was quite literally her adopted brother."

"So," you took a breath trying to find the words. "I'm going to be honest. I only read your latest book and I loved Luka. But I can't compare him to other MMCs you've written about so I don't know if they are similar or different. But what I can say is that I'm seeing like this trend of MMCs where they are all this dark-haired, brooding or mysterious character who dislikes mostly everyone and is only soft for either a select few or only the FMC."

"I think if you are going to write a Why Choose you need to think of guys you wouldn't mind falling in love with." You couldn't help, but think of what drew you to your boys. "One could be the leader. Someone who isn't afraid to have his neck on the line. To make sure everyone else is taken care of and being strong enough to handle the stress of that. He would be big on words of affirmation. Lifting the FMC up. For me, it would be someone that I know will take care of business. He's confident in his decision. That confidence would extend to me." You clear your throat. "If I was the FMC, that is."

"Okay." She nodded, pulling out a pen and notepad. "You don't mind if I-"

"I don't write about polygamy." Crossed that bridge. Currently trying to burn it. "So feel free."

"Another could be the one who it's so easy to fall in love with their charm. The one who falls to his knees. Wanting to worship every inch of her. The one who makes her laugh. That one to make her forget about the sadness that creeps into her bones. The one to hold her whenever he could. He's about quality time and physical touch."

"So different love languages." She said, her pen quickly scribbling.

"Yeah." You said, leaning forward. "Then there is the gift giver." Your mind went to Gaz. Most of the gifts and trinkets in the box sitting by your door had came from him. He had gotten you new earbuds when yours broke. When you were being harassed at your gym, he had bought you and him a membership at a different one. "The one who would give her the world if she asked for it. If you're going with a high fantasy then maybe the one to take note of something at a market that the FMC had been eyeing and he bought it for her. Just someone who takes notice like that."

"So acts of service would fall with all of them then you think?"

No. Simon had been the one who probably spent the least amount of money on you. He didn't praise you like John. He didn't even try to attach himself at your hip like Johnny.

But if you needed something fixed, he would come fix it himself. He'd be damned letting a strange man into your apartment. And alone? Fucking forget about it. The one who hated any sort of cardio activity outside of fucking you, but didn't hesitate in attempting to keep up with you when you wanted to go on a run and get some fresh air. If you needed something done, he didn't pay someone else to do it. He did it. If you wanted to do something, he made it happen. He made you safe.

You couldn't bring yourself to say explain it. Your eyes begin to itch. Warning you to think of something else.

So instead you just told her yeah. That they would all commit acts of service. And even in your hypothetical explanation of characters that haven't even been written yet, Simon was still the ghost among them.

"Lucky fucking girl." Renée said setting down her pen.

"Yeah." You said, downing the rest of your wine.

You walked home. The cool crisp wind feeling like it was whipping your exposed skin. It was soothing as the ghost of Johnny's touch still seemed to burn you.

You had hoped that you would get some closure, but you just felt hollow. You came twice and still manage to leave unsatisfied. Johnny wasn't malicious... he was Johnny. He wasn't like the others. Simon would never apologize and John and Kyle wouldn't try to keep reaching out after you told them know once.

Johnny couldn't stand you being mad at him. He never could. He would beg and beg for your forgiveness. You didn't regret fucking him one last time. He needed to know that you were well and truly done. There was no going back from this.

"Hey, Love!" You were pulled from your thoughts at the sound of a voice coming from a source you couldn't see. You perked up, quickly scanning the dimly lit street before your eyes settled on a cluster of shadows just across the street. "Yeah." The slurring voice said again. "Talking to you gorgeous!"

You resumed your trek home. Now picking up your pace. "Don't be like that! Where ya off to?" The voice followed you. You kept your gaze straight. You were three minutes away. Three minutes and you would be at your building.

Three minutes.

Three minutes.

"What's the rush?" Another voice joined the cacophony. "Just want to have a chat."

You turned. They were maybe twenty feet away. You kept your eyes glued to them as your started to make a run for it.

You had made it about ten feet before your body collided with someone. Firm hands gripped your upper arms, steading you as you threatened to fall back.

You sucked in a breath of air, ready to scream when you looked up. It was too dark to make out the man's facial features. He was tall. His head eclipsing the street lamp just behind him. You shook beneath his hands. The voices behind you now silent.

"Keep walking." You didn't need to see his face. You knew that deep timber voice anywhere. He released you from his grip before letting you pass him.

"Just wanted to have a chat." You heard one of them try to reason. "No harm done."

"No harm done yet." Was the last thing you heard Simon say before you broke out into a full fledged run.

[itneverendshere]

LOVED YOU AT YOUR WORST - r.c series - FIFTEEN

pairings: ex!sweethearts; rafe x thornton!reader; rafe x sofia. chapter warnings: angst; mentions of abortion, grief & health issues;

Rafe was a hundred percent sure the lack of oxygen made him delirious.

His palms were still clammy from the panic attack earlier—vision spotty, heart galloping so hard it scared even him. Sarah had stared at him like he was a mangled dog limping on the freeway and for once, she hadn’t said anything smart or mean, just driven him home without a word. No fight with her that night, he hadn’t screamed at her, hadn’t said something he’d regret—he kept his shit together for once. He said thank you, but his sister didn’t need it when she’d grown up watching him break down and build back up a thousand times, never quite whole.

Therapy hadn’t miracled him into some new person or whatever. He wasn’t going to start quoting mantras and hugging strangers in the street. He was trying, alright? Not to ruin everything he touched, not to say shit that hurt people only because he was hurting. It wasn’t gonna happen overnight—he knew that, it might not even occur in a year. But cleaning the water with you, of all people, that was something, a start and he had to start somewhere, or he’d drown.

That’s why he was parked outside your place, headlights off, keys still in the ignition, trying to talk himself out of going in. His fingers hovered over his screen guessing you’d follow up your text with a quick “nvm” or “that was a mistake.” But nothing came, just that green bubble, staring back at him, fucking terryfing.

This had to be some kind of trap, you hadn’t said two nice things to him in the past four months, except tonight, but his brain was foggy.

Rafe rubbed his face, still buzzing with adrenaline, a headache forming low behind his eyes, he should just go home, stop chasing something that always seemed to blow up in his face. But his hand was already on the door handle, legs half-numb as he stepped out into the night air. His heart started doing that thing again—erratic—and he wondered if he was about to pass out on your front steps.

That’d be poetic.

He was idling outside your gate, the one that used to open the second his Range Rover pulled up, he knew the code, now he had to buzz, like a stranger.

Rafe hated that.

He pressed the button, swallowing hard, already regretting it. He half-expected silence, or your voice telling him to go to hell. Instead, there was a click, then the slow swing of iron, groaning open like it, too, couldn’t believe you’d let him in. By the time he reached your front door, his hands were damp again, chest aching with everything he wasn’t saying.

Then—door swings open.

You didn’t make him knock, there you were barefoot, dressed in some enormous hoodie he hadn’t seen in months. Hair twisted up, eyes dark from either crying or just not sleeping. You weren’t supposed to look like that.

“Hi.”

“Hi?” he echoed, like a fucking idiot. It came out raspy, his throat wasn’t working right, still scratched up from earlier. His lungs hadn’t fully clocked back in from that panic attack and now this. “…You let me in.”

“You rang the gate.”

You seemed tired, not just physically, and he did that thing again, almost stopped breathing because air wasn’t a thing he deserved around you.

You stepped aside, sighing. “Come in. Before I change my mind.”

He did, swallowed hard, and crossed that threshold like he was sixteen again, sneaking in past curfew, scared your dad would catch him, but now it was just the two of you. You sat curled into the corner of the couch across from him, arms wrapped around your knees while Rafe sat stiff on the edge of the opposite one, elbows on his thighs, hands clasped like he was praying.

(He was.)

He dragged a hand down his face, his lungs were feeling funny again, but it wasn’t a panic attack this time, it was you, sitting right there, after all this time. He wanted to say something, but everything in his brain came out wrong before it even hit his mouth.

So he sat and you stared. This is probably where she slaps me, or tells me to get the fuck out. Or worse, says nothing, he thought.

He wanted to tell you that he hadn’t slept right in weeks, sometimes he thought he saw you out of the corner of his eye, and his body would react like you were real—as if he could still fix it. He wanted to admit he’d been spiraling, white-knuckling his days just to get through without texting you, begging or showing up like this.

"You're not gonna say anything?"

You looked like you’d bolt if he breathed wrong.

Rafe blinked, looking away. "I don’t know where to start."

That made your mouth drop, not quite a frown but close, he tracked it, all the little changes in your expression like they were landmarks in a city he used to live in. He didn’t know if that map still existed for him anymore.

“Start somewhere.”

Where the fuck was “somewhere”? Before the fight? Before he said all that shit he didn’t mean because it was easier to make you hate him than admit he couldn’t live without you?

“I didn’t think I’d be let in.”

“I didn’t think you’d show up.”

Everything felt surreal, as if he’d left his body behind in the car and now he was just watching this shit play out on a TV screen. You across from him, this house, this conversation—civilized, if you could even call it that. He didn’t know how to be calm around you, maybe this was hell, he died somewhere between the panic attack and your driveway and this was just the afterlife: stuck in a loop with the one person he couldn’t stop loving but always hurt.

“I don’t know how to talk to you anymore,” He confessed, his leg bouncing, nervous energy bleeding out of him. None of you were yelling, crying, rolling your eyes like usual, that scared him.

He kept seeing it in his head, how things used to be—even after a screaming match, you’d curl into him like nothing ever broke. you'd text him "come over" at 2 a.m. and he’d be there in ten, because it was understood. It was always understood.

Even when the world felt like it was falling apart, when his dad was on his ass, when he was fucking up every other part of his life—you were the one place he didn’t have to explain himself. This didn’t feel like the two of you, more like strangers in borrowed skin.

Rafe hated that he kept looking for you—the old you, who would tilt her head and laugh through her nose and throw a pillow at him when he said something stupid. The girl who could read him in a second and didn’t need him to find the right words. You didn’t look like her anymore, that was a good thing.

What the fuck happened to us.

He was what happened, if he hadn’t shut down, pushed back, said the worst thing at the worst time—he dropped his gaze to the floor, hands flexing again against his thighs. There was so much he wanted to say, but none of it would change what he’d already done.

You still weren’t uttering a single word, and he was starting to feel like he couldn’t sit here another second without doing something—saying something, but then, as if you'd taken a peek inside his excuse of a brain—

“I think we should get our excuses out of the way.”

He looked up.

Your hands were fidgeting—thumb picking at your sleeve, eyes not quite on him. God, he remembered those hands, you used to touch his face like he was something soft, you hadn’t touched him at all in months.

“I mean it. No more bullshit.”

“What are you talking about?”

You met his eyes.

“I mean, I’ve got my own shit to say,” you said. “So if you’ve got something to say, I want to hear it now.”

He suddenly felt sick, his ears were ringing again, the way they had earlier when Sarah pulled the car over and told him to “breathe, Rafe, it’s anxiety, not a heart attack”.

“…I don’t know how to say it right,” he muttered almost swallowed by the quiet. “Every time I try, it comes out fucked.”

“Give it a try.”

You didn’t say anything else, the you go first was visible in your eyes.

That was the least he could give you, right? He’d been taking and taking, his soul already hurt from just the thought. But you were offering him honesty, one chance, without the screaming, the throwing things.

Rafe cleared his throat, eyes glassy and wild and stupidly, desperately hopeful. Alright, somewhere. Fuck it.

“I regretted it the second you left.” It it hurt to say it, “I didn’t say it then. I was too—” He laughed once, humorless. “—too proud. Too fucked up, drunk.”

He rubbed his palms against his jeans, focusing on everything he hadn’t said properly for months. It haunted him, how your face had crumpled but you still didn’t cry in front of him—too proud or too hurt or both. The sound of the door slamming after you was louder in his head than the gunshots from his worst nights.

“The shit you said that night… messed me up. I know I messed you up too, but—” He stopped, jaw flexing. “I didn’t think it would come from you.”

That was the part no one ever understood.

He could take the hits, the rumours, Ward yelling in his face, his so-called friends talking behind his back. Even Sarah calling him an asshole—he could take all of that. But you? He’d spent so long thinking you saw him, even when he didn’t deserve it, especially then.

When you threw his pain back at him that night, when you looked at him like he was just another spoiled rich boy crying over his daddy—fuck, he’d felt something in him break in half.

“I thought you’d get it,” he admitted, swallowing hard. “That’s the part I couldn’t stop thinking about. You—of all people. You lost your whole family. You know what that’s like. You were there when my mom died. We were kids, but you were the only one who talked to me about it. I thought—” He shook his head. “I thought it would be like that again. That when my dad—when he was gone… I thought if anyone would understand what that felt like, it’d be you.” His mouth twisted. “But you didn’t.”

He blinked, and his vision went fuzzy again—not from panic this time, just pain, remembering too vividly.

“I deserved it, I really did. But that night?” he said, “I couldn’t forgive you. You weren’t wrong—" He bit his cheek, hard, until the taste of blood hit his tongue. “—but it was you. And I didn’t want to stop loving you. That’s why I didn’t chase you, just drank, a lot, figured I’d black out enough nights and eventually stop thinkin' about it.”

Another dry laugh.

“Didn’t work, if that wasn’t obvious.” He leaned forward again, elbows on his knees, “I kept waiting for you to come back, thinking any day now, you’d text me. Say you were sorry too. But you didn’t and I didn’t know how to fix somethin' you were the one who broke last.”

His pride had cost him everything, but it was never stronger than his hurt. And even now, with your hand resting on your stomach and his gut screaming, he was still reaching for the version of you who used to understand him without either of you saying a word.

Rafe swore that was it—you were gonna walk out, leave him sitting there like some pathetic, washed-up version of the guy you used to love.

“Is that why you started seeing Sofia?”

"I didn’t…" He paused, shaking his head, dragging a hand down his face. “I didn’t see her like that.”

You didn’t say anything, just nodded, slow and silent: go on.

“She was the bartender at the club. I’d see her when I went in—most of the time I was drunk off my ass anyway. Half the time I didn’t even remember what I said to her. I didn’t know her name for a while.” He hated himself for saying it out loud. “She was just there.”

His leg started bouncing again, and he didn’t even notice.

“She asked if I was okay once. That’s all it took, one person acting like they gave a shit. And I was pissed at you, I was pissed at everything, but mostly I was pissed at myself for not being okay and for needing you anyway.”

His hands came up, gesturing vaguely between you.

“I kept thinking—you left me. You left. When I needed you the most, and I knew I’d done so much wrong, pushed you so far that you didn’t have anything left to give me, but… I still thought you'd understand. I thought if anyone was gonna sit with me in grief, it’d be you. But you didn’t, you treated me like I was a fucking monster, it didn’t matter that I’d just buried my dad. All I was, was Ward’s son, and not just some kid trying to make sense of losing the only parent he had left.”

You looked like you wanted to interrupt. You didn’t.

“And I know he was a bad man. I know that, ’m not fucking delusional,” Rafe snapped, voice rising for a second, frustrated with himself, before softening again. “But he was still my dad. The guy who used to drive me out on the boat at sunrise and teach me how to cast without tangling the line. He was still the man who told me I could be something. Even when he lied through his teeth—he still said it.”

He dropped his eyes to floor again, voice going nearly hoarse.

“And I missed him. I still do, even when I hate him, I miss him. You made me feel like that was something to be ashamed of.” When he spoke again, it was almost a whisper. “That’s when it clicked. You were gone, you weren’t coming back. And I wanted to hurt you like you hurt me. I didn’t even realize you were already hurting, mourning me while I was still sittin' right fuckin' next to you.”

His eyes lifted slowly to meet yours again.

“That’s why I didn’t stop her,” he said, quietly, defeated. “When she kissed me the first time… I didn’t stop her. Because I wanted you to know what it felt like, to feel what I’d been feeling every second since the door slammed behind you. I wanted it to hurt when you found out.”

Rafe saw your jaw twitch, you were trying not to cry or scream or both while he admitted what you’d already known in the deepest part of your chest. He hated that you were sitting so far away, arms wrapped around yourself when all he wanted was to cross the space and warm you up with everything he hadn’t known how to say until now.

He hated that he’d ever wanted to hurt you.

“You didn’t have to make it worse.”

His head dropped, ashamed, nodding. He knew, fuck, did he know.

“You could’ve called. Texted. Showed up like this—months ago.”

“I didn’t know how.”

“You did. You just didn’t want to.”

You were right, he had let pride drag him deeper into the hole, let the silence rot what was left between you because at least in the silence, he didn’t have to see your eyes look at him like that.

That night—shit, that night—he’d said things he didn’t even remember, the kind of bullshit you don’t come back from. It scared him sometimes, what he’d become. He’d wanted to win the fight more than he wanted to keep you, twisting his grief into something cruel the following weeks, just to make you bleed a little too.

Rafe swallowed hard, voice low now, ashamed. He rubbed the back of his neck.

“I didn’t even like her,” he admitted, a little more broken. “Not like that. She was just… there, a good friend. She wasn’t you, didn’t ask questions, didn’t expect anything from me. And I hated myself more every time I saw her because I knew what I was doing. I was punishing you, for something I couldn’t admit was my fault too. I didn’t think there was anything left to fight for.”

His voice cracked for real this time.

“That’s the difference between us,” You muttered. “You give up when it’s hard. You made it look easy.”

“I needed you to hate me enough to stop trying.”

You let out the breath you’d been carefully holding.

“Congrats. It worked.”

“I didn’t want it to. I was a mess. Still am. I never stopped—”

“I thought I was going to die when I saw you together, Rafe.”

Your eyes weren’t angry or accusing, just….sad.

“I—I saw you in the bathroom,” you continued, “Thought I was going to throw up right there in the hallway.”

Rafe’s heart stopped.

“The door was open just a crack, enough to see her.” You swallowed hard, and he could see how your hands were shaking now. “She had her arms around your neck. You were smiling, laughing even. You kissed her neck, she was touching. You fucking let her.”

His soul caved in.

“I stood there for maybe ten seconds. Long enough to see you tie the strings of her bikini behind her back like you’d done it a hundred times already.” You let out a little laugh, but it sounded so wrong. “It used to take you five tries to tie mine without getting flustered.”

He felt sick to his stomach.

You shook your head slowly, eyes closing.

“It felt like someone had just reached into my chest and ripped my heart out. I couldn’t breathe, my face went cold, and all I kept thinking was you didn’t even flinch.”

Rafe opened his mouth, but nothing came out. His heart was fucking breaking.

You tilted your head, blinking up at the ceiling, trying to keep it together. “I slept on the bathroom floor that night, in your hoodie, because it smelled like you. Didn’t eat for two days.”

A pause.

“And I still would’ve taken you back if you’d just shown up. Said you were sorry.”

Rafe couldn’t take it anymore. “I was sorry,” he said, hoarse. “Every second. I swear to God, I just didn’t think I—”

“—deserved it?” you finished for him, not unkindly. “You didn’t.”

He flinched.

“But I would’ve still tried,” you whispered. “Because I loved you that much.”

No vindication or closure. Rafe pressed his fingers to his temples, exhaling hard, his whole body burning with guilt.

“I didn’t like her,” he repeated, knowing it couldn’t erase what he’d done.

"You liked her enough to keep her around."

“She was there. That’s all it was, she wasn’t you. I couldn’t even look at her without thinkin' about you.”

You shook your head, eyes gleaming. “Then why didn’t you leave?”

He looked at you, words choking in his throat. “Because I was scared you’d already moved on. You were gone for two months, I felt like a stranger."

You let out a bitter breath, “You were a stranger. The moment you let her touch you like that… you stopped being mine.”

The silence that followed was suffocating, a punishment, he deserved worse.

“I didn’t know how to come back from it,” he said, barely above a whisper.

“You don’t come back from something like that."

He nodded, devastated. “I never stopped loving you, that never changed.”

You looked at him for a long time, it almost hurt worse than all the yelling in the world — because you weren’t angry anymore. You nodded once, slowly. “I know. But that doesn’t make it hurt less.”

Your eyes were still fixed on him, lips parted like you wanted to say something else but weren’t sure where to start.

“I shouldn’t have said what I said that night.”

That pulled his eyes back to yours.

You nodded to yourself, needing to work up to it.

“I was angry. I was—I was tired.” You sat back, and pulled your knees tighter into your chest. “From watching you ruin yourself over and over again for someone who didn’t give a single fuck. You were breaking your own heart every day, and I couldn’t do anything but watch.”

He didn’t say anything, just watched you like he was trying to breathe you in all over again.

“I knew he was your dad, what that meant. But watching you keep chasing something you were never gonna get from him—his love, his pride, a real apology—it made me so fucking angry, it was killing you and I couldn’t save you from it. Every time I tried, we fought, when I tried to be patient, you snapped. Even when the good moments were good, they started to feel like pit stops before the next fight."

You bit your lip, eyes glossy.

“So yeah, I said shit I shouldn’t have said. I threw your grief back in your face, it wasn’t right. It was fucked up. And I hate that I did it, because I do get it—I do know what that kind of loss feels like and I still made it about me in the moment. That’s not fair, you didn’t deserve that, especially not from me. I'm sorry."

You weren’t done.

“But you’re not the only one hurting” you continued, “You weren’t the only one grieving. I lost you, little by little, every time you pushed me out and let Ward pull you in. It felt like I was loving someone who didn’t want to be loved anymore and I broke, too.”

Rafe blinked fast, chest rising with shallow breaths while you were still picking at your sleeve, eyes down.

“And you were right, back then. When we were younger, you were always the one to fix it. Every time we’d break up, even if it was just for a week or two, you came crawling back. Even when I was the one who started the fight, even if I flirted with someone else afterward to piss you off.” Your voice wobbled, but you didn’t stop. “You were always the one who showed up.”

His head dropped for a second, eyes squeezed shut.

“I told myself that made me better than you somehow,” you murmured. “I had the upper hand because I could make you come back, but that was just me being a bitch, you weren’t the only one who needed to grow up. You weren’t coming back and I didn’t want you to.”

That was the part no one ever understood.

Not the Cut High Society who asked what kind of psycho gave up a Cameron. Or your old friends from college who wondered why you weren’t mourning louder. None of them got it, you didn’t stop loving Rafe, you’d just spent so long dragging his broken pieces out of the fire that eventually, you forgot you were burning too.

You both looked at each other, older than you used to be, still cracked in all the same places, bleeding a little. “I had to be better on my own and I have been.”

You didn’t say it with pride, but you had learned how to exist without him, even when it broke you. Rafe’s eyes flicked to your stomach.

You rubbed your hand over it, “I didn’t tell you before because I wasn’t keeping it.”

You weren’t keeping it.

He couldn’t blame you, not when he’d made it feel that way. His gaze dropped to your hand resting gently over the swell that wasn’t there yet, still small, but he saw it now. He wasn’t supposed to know. that’s what killed him most still, you hadn’t even told him because he’d already proven he wasn’t worth telling.

“You weren’t gonna keep it,” he repeated, like saying it might help it sink in.

You gazed up at him again, eyes wet, but no tears spilling. “No.”

“Because of me?”

You didn’t need to answer. He already knew.

His heart was splitting open, right there on the floor between you both, and he still couldn’t move or close the gap. Couldn’t hold you the way he wanted to because you’d already had to learn how to live without him.

“It wasn’t fair,” you tried not to twist the knife even as you twisted it. “To bring a baby into that… into what we were.”

Rafe nodded once, a jagged little motion because it hurt to agree, so fucking bad. You weren’t wrong, but that didn’t make it easier.

“I would’ve been better,” he sounded completely desperate now, his voice breaking. “If I’d known, if I’d—fuck, if you’d just told me, I swear to God, I would’ve been—”

“You don’t get to promise that now,” you said, but there was no venom in it, only resignation. “That’s why I was so upset when Topper found out, called the clinic.”

“Have you talked to Topper?” Rafe asked, he already knew the answer but needed to hear it from you.

You shook your head. “Not yet. I will.”

He nodded once, “He meant well.”

“I know,” you said quietly. “He’s not a bad person. Just… socially dumb.”

That almost made Rafe huff out a laugh, but it didn’t quite land.

“I think he was trying to protect you.”

“And I didn’t need protecting,” you snapped, “I needed someone who wasn’t gonna treat me like a bomb about to go off.”

That shut him up, because it was true. You’d needed stability, and all they ever gave you was a headache. He knew better than to push you when it came to family matters, so he changed the subject again.

“You didn’t go through with the abortion."

“I was past the legal limit in North Carolina. The place he called was in New Mexico.”

“New Mexico?”

“I had to fly there.”

“But you didn’t.”

“There were… complications.” You didn’t elaborate, your voice was already trembling, “They said it might mean I can’t… that I might not be able to…It wasn’t my choice anymore.”

Your voice died, you didn’t say it, but Rafe heard it.

He felt like he’d been shot.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice pitched up, breath hitching, "Why didn’t you tell me you were hurting?”

“Because you weren’t mine anymore, Rafe.”

He blinked, and it hit him all at once. The beach clean-up, you fainted, he manhandled you into the car, yelled at you in the parking lot. Told you to stop being dramatic. Dragged you to the hospital because he thought you were being reckless.

He forced you there when you were already in pain.

“I didn’t know I was sick then. I thought I was just tired, it wasn’t until the bloodwork came back that they realized something was wrong. Dr. Harris said it was severe anemia, that if I had gone through with it… I might not have made it through the bleeding.”

Rafe’s breath left his lungs like he’d been punched. “Jesus.”

Your lip trembled even though you were trying so hard to stay composed. “They said even keeping the baby might… it might not save me either. Giving birth could be just as dangerous. And the baby might not make it.”

Rafe wanted to crawl away.

“And you’ve been going through this alone?”

“I’ve had Sarah. She’s the only one that knows.”

His eyes flicked to the side like maybe if he didn’t look at you, it would hurt less to absorb all of it, the guilt drowning him.

“She should’ve told me,” he muttered, but even that felt weak, it wasn’t Sarah’s burden to carry.

“I told her not to,” you said softly. “I begged her.”

That part gutted him all over again, you were in pain—but you didn’t trust him with it, you’d believed so deeply that he wouldn’t show up, that you chose to suffer in silence.

“I don’t know how I let it get this bad,” he whispered.

“I do,” you said, without accusation. “You stopped seeing me. I was standing in front of you, hurting, and you were too busy trying to be someone else’s son.”

Rafe pressed a hand to his face, red-rimmed eyes that happened when he was trying not to cry. “I see you now.”

A weak apology wrapped in a confession he should’ve made months ago. It was a small thing, such a simple sentence, but it cracked something in you, too.

You swallowed hard, “It doesn’t change everything.”

“I know.”

You both sat there in that painful stillness. So much unsaid even after everything, the past had finally caught up to both of you and didn’t know where to go from here.

“Were you scared?”

“Terrified.” You didn’t let him look away. “I was scared every second. Of what was happening, of what it meant, of what I was gonna do. And I was more scared of telling you than I was of bleeding out.”

He winced but you didn’t stop.

“If I told you, and you didn’t show up, it’d break me in a way I wouldn’t come back from. And if you did show up just to make it about you, to throw it back in my face like you did everything else that scared you—” You shook your head, blinking hard. “I couldn’t survive that version of you.”

“I wouldn’t have—” he started, then stopped. “I don’t know what I would’ve done.”

He rubbed both hands over his face, then through his hair like he was trying to physically pull the memory of who he’d been out of his skin.

“I’m not letting anything happen to you.”

It was the first time in a long time you felt like you weren’t bleeding out alone.

You watched him, and for the first time in months, he didn’t look like the boy who broke your heart. He was a man trying to find a way to put it back together—piece by piece, even if it was too late.

You took a shaky breath, “I don’t want to get back together.”

Rafe didn’t flinch outwardly, but inside, there was a bomb. It was fair, and he knew that, he expected it. The words ricocheted in his head, over and over. It made sense. Fuck, it made perfect sense. He’d been a ghost of himself, lost in Ward’s shadow, drowning in every toxic version of what he thought strength was supposed to be. He’d made you feel alone when you were most vulnerable, hadn’t seen you when you were falling apart.

“I didn’t say all this so you’d take me back. I just…” He exhaled shakily, head in his hands. “I need you to know I’m sorry. And that I—I’m still here. I can’t change how bad I fucked up, but I can show up now. However, you’ll let me.”

He observed you again, eyes rimmed with guilt and love that had aged in the dark, misshapen but still there.

“I’ll drive you to the appointments. Sit in the parking lot if you don’t want me in the room, do the night runs for ginger ale or whatever the fuck else you need. You don’t owe me anything back.”

He wasn’t offering to fix it so he could be your boyfriend again, he was offering because he could finally see past himself.

“I don’t want you to go through any more of this alone.”

He was a boy you'd loved so hard you forgot how to live without him once. And now here he was, offering to stand beside you, to hold space, to carry what you couldn’t anymore.

“You say that now, but you have no idea how bad this could get. I might not make it,” you reminded him. “There’s a real chance this ends with me gone, and if it doesn’t, it could still mean I’m sick."

You weren’t trying to be cruel, he understood that, you were being honest.

“I know it’s serious, but—”

“No,” you cut in, “You don’t know. This doesn’t end with you waiting outside the delivery room and me holding the baby with a tear-streaked smile.” Your voice failed you. “This could end with a funeral, mine, the baby’s, or both. And if that doesn’t happen, if I survive, it still might not feel like a win. I might never stop resenting that I didn’t get to choose.”

He hadn’t just failed you, he’d failed everything he ever said he’d protect. He could taste the bitterness in his mouth, that acrid sting of regret, it made his bones ache. Of course you had a right to be angry.

Rafe’s fingers twitched in his lap, itching to reach out. To touch your knee, your hand, your shoulder, anything, but he didn’t dare.

“They took that from me, my body did,” you admitted, “I don’t know who I’ll be when this is over. I don’t know what will be left of me, if I’ll still be someone who can look at you without seeing every moment I didn’t get to make for myself.”

He didn’t know who he’d be either. What if you died? He couldn’t unsee it now—your body going limp, blood-soaking sheets, hospital lights, helpless. What if you lived and he lost you anyway? Could he watch you walk away—alive, whole—but still broken in all the places he helped crack? He loved you so fucking much it made him hate himself.

And that love—it didn’t ask for pretty endings or promise healing, it watched you, knowing the most honest thing he could do was not fix it, but feel it with you.

“We can be friends, maybe.”

Friends.

It wasn’t a bad word, but for him, it wasn’t neutral when it came to you. He’d tasted your breath and held your dreams and mapped the small places only lovers know, he’d once believed you were it for him.

But that’s what you needed and that’s what you could give, this time—this fucking time—he wasn’t going to take what wasn’t his.

“I’ll be your friend.”

The words nearly choked him. It was how it started, wasn’t it? All those years ago—mud-streaked knees and popsicles melting down your wrists, sunburns and scraped palms, long summer days, nights spent hiding from the storm under porch roofs, hearts still too young to know what they'd grow into.

He stared at you, the girl he’d known since she wore glitter nail polish and refused to eat the crust on her sandwiches. The woman you were now, trembling and brave and a thousand kinds of soft steel.

“I’ll be whatever you need.”

So what if he only ever got to be the one who drove you to your appointments and waited in parking lots and left ginger ale on your porch when you were too sick to eat? That was love too. Rafe let out a breath like he’d been holding it since he was seventeen.

He could do that, he would do that. It wasn’t closure, it was a better version of grace from two people who’d seen the worst of each other.

“Sarah told me you’re in therapy.”

Rafe blinked, like you’d spoken in a language he hadn’t heard in years, the conversation rerouted so quickly it gave him whiplash.

“…How does she know I’m in therapy?”

You gave a half-hearted shrug, “Wheezie.”

A dry chuckle escaped him—one of those stunned, of course kind of laughs. He shook his head slowly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Should’ve known,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. “Girl has ears like a bat. Probably listened through the vents.”

That tugged a smile out of you.

“It’s not…a big deal,” he added, “I mean, I guess it is, but it doesn’t feel like it yet. It’s just me sittin' there trying not to lie to someone who’s already read through all my bullshit before I’ve even said it.”

“It is a big deal, Rafe.”

He peered down at his hands, they were shaking. He tucked them under his legs. “I only started recently. Didn’t think I’d make it past the first session, almost didn’t go in.”

“But you did.”

“I kept hearing your voice—old stuff. Before I started proving you wrong.”

It stung because you remembered those days too, when you believed in Rafe so fiercely it made you blind.

“I wanted to be that guy again,” He confessed, and the guilt in his voice was so sharp it could’ve cut glass. “Not for you. Well—yeah, okay, maybe a little for you. But mostly for me. I didn’t like what I saw in the mirror anymore.”

You reached over then—hesitating for only a second—and placed your hand over his.

His breath hitched, the tears coming suddenly, stinging the backs of his eyes before he could shut them down. He stared down at your hand resting on his, a goddamn miracle he didn’t deserve.

Jesus Christ, he thought, I forgot what this felt like. It was pathetic, really. He’d gone so long without this kind of softness form you, he didn’t know how to take it. You were still offering him pieces of something when you had every right to keep it to yourself.

Rafe was so touch-starved for you, from how you used to bump into him in the hallway, or grab his wrist mid-argument to make your point, or how your leg would press up against his under the table and you didn’t move away. He missed all of it.

He turned his hand slowly, almost scared you’d pull away. When you didn’t, he slid his fingers through yours like muscle memory.

“I’m glad you went.”

He sniffed hard, wiped his face with the sleeve of his sweatshirt, “Yeah, turns out I really am fucked in the head.”

“Don’t say that. I’m serious,” you said, squeezing his hand once more, then pulling away before it became too much. “You’re not fucked in the head. You’re hurting, that’s not the same thing.”

Rafe almost whimpered. He swallowed it down fast—the sound sat heavy in his chest. Your hand left his like it had never been there, and he ached in the space it used to be. His fingers twitched, they hadn’t gotten the message you were gone.

He wanted to grab your wrist and put your hand back.

He didn’t. He sat there, palms burning with the echo of your touch, trying not to look as desperate as he felt. Get a grip, he told himself. He wondered if you felt it—how much it had cost him not to lean in when you pulled away.

His throat burned. “Feels the same. Still got a million things wrong with me, still get mad too fast, still got shit I haven’t unpacked.”

“I know. But it’s not the same, is it?”

Rafe gave a small nod, that wry little smile faltering as fast as it had come, it didn’t reach his eyes. “Nah, it’s not.”

He knew you two were broken people, bruised by what they’d done and what they’d lost, sitting in the ashes of something that might’ve once been beautiful, trying to decide if they could still survive what was left.

Rafe wanted to try, more than anything.

It was the closest thing to forgiveness you could offer and it would have to be enough. Healing wasn’t going to come as an apology or a promise. It was going to be long, ugly, forged in therapy sessions where he had to say things out loud that he’d spent years trying to ignore beneath anger and loyalty and all the wrong kinds of pride.

“Why tonight?” He gripped his own thigh like if he let go, he’d lose the nerve. His voice scratchy, “Why’d you answer my text tonight of all nights?”

You spine straightened like it was a question you hadn’t wanted to ask yourself, either.

“Was it ‘cause you felt bad for me? A-after the gala?”

“Rafe—”

He exhaled, eyes wet again. “W-Was it pity?”

“I missed you.”

You missed him.

It was enough for the part of him that still woke up reaching for a body that hadn’t shared his bed in months, that still kept your contact saved with a heart next to it, even after you’d blocked him.

He recognized that tilt of your chin when you were holding in too much. He used to kiss that jaw. Bite it, even, when you were play-fighting on sun-drenched bedsheets. Now all he could do was watch.

Rafe’s shoulders hunched, chewing on the inside of his cheek, “I missed you more.”

“I’m scared. That even this—whatever this is—"

“I’m scared too,” he cut you off, with that same wreckage in his voice.

It nearly destroyed him, the way you were looking at him—memorizing him. You used to kiss like that. It felt almost wrong, like opening a box you’d locked for good.

It wasn’t reunion or redemption or the kind of love that got wrapped in ribbons and returned in the third act. It was grief, stretched between two people who used to finish each other’s sentences and now could hardly finish a conversation without bleeding all over it.

Then, almost like it wasn’t real, you asked, “Do you ever wish we’d never met?”

Rafe looked at you like you’d just shot him with a rifle, his breath hitched, his lips parted— “No. Fuck, no.”

You nodded slowly, maybe you did, he wouldn’t blame you if you had wished that, no matter how good it started, it left bruises when it ended.

“I think about that sometimes. Not because I didn’t love you. But because I did and lost myself in you. And then I lost my body and the baby. And now… I don’t know who I am without all that loss.”

He was shaking his head. “You didn’t lose the baby.”

“Not yet.”

Rafe had no words that wouldn’t sound like hope, and that felt cruel now. You’ll be okay, or the baby’s strong, or we’ll get through this, those were promises made in ignorance. And his therapist had told him just three days ago, “ignorance isn’t innocence. It’s just fear in nicer clothes”, and while he hadn’t understood it at the time, he understood it now.

“Do you h-hate me?”

“No.” It hurt more than a yes would’ve. “I don’t hate you, Rafe. I just… don’t trust you.”

“Do you think—” he started, stopped, tried again. “Do you think I could ever be the kind of person you’d let in again?”

You looked at him, long and sad.

“I think you could be, I just don’t know if I’ll be around to see it.”

[queers-gambit]

God's Plan

prompt: your boyfriend carries the worst parts of his job home, bringing to life one of your deepest-seeded insecurities. or when Carmy calls you clingy.

pairing: Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto x female!reader -> pairing: Carmy x Peach

fandom masterlist: FX's The Bear

collection masterlist: Clingy Baby

word count: 3.3k+

note: she's short. she's to the point. author doesn't want to hear a GODDAMN THING about "glorifying" toxic relationships. shut the fuck up, eat your cereal, read the fic or just scroll away.

warnings: cursing, small angst, short fic, author mildly gave up, hurt with no real comfort, allusion to toxic family relationship, insecurity, not edited.

part two: Two to Tango

"Hey, what're you still doin' here?"

You glanced up from your computer, smiling at your coworker, "Just trying to get the study notes finished so they can be used for the analysis."

"Okay...? But you realize what time it is, right?"

You hummed, glancing at the analog clock, "Just about 7?"

"Yeah, so, go home," she chuckled. "Work's still gonna be here tomorrow."

"I'll see you then," you dismissed softly, watching her smile and turn away from your desk. You tried to get back into work, but the truth was, you felt overly burned out, but still wanted to work because it'd make you feel better being "good" at your job.

So, in reality, you didn't get home until 10:56 pm, yet still beat Carmy. You ate something simple, cleaned up, got a shower, and crashed into bed. You didn't know the time, but Carmy eventually came home; his arm heavy around you when settling for sleep.

You were the first up and out the door the next morning, just barely seeing Carmy when he got up for coffee. You managed a single kiss before rushing away, needing to get to work on time. When you got there, your entire morning was blocked for client meetings, then you took lunch, later, team meetings, and then the last hour or so of work was meant for individual recreation.

Another day of staying late, trying to finish work you thought was important. Another day of getting home late, missing your man, going to bed, and only seeing him the following morning.

However, this time at work, your boss told you that the analysis meetings were pushed back by a week... So, technically, you stayed late and busted your ass for no literal reason! And your coworker's entire cup of coffee spilled on you. And your Outlook email was under maintenance, so, you couldn't really work. And then, to top off a really shitty week, your car was hit in the parking lot and now had a huge fucking dent.

You were beat.

You were overwhelmed.

You were miserable, stressed, righteously confused.

You didn't stay late that night. Instead, you left at a normal hour and texted Carmy:

what time do you think you'll be off?

He replied when you got to your car:

maybe around 8?

You sniffled, nodding, answering:

okay, see you when you get home.

As you exited the parking lot, he replied:

what? you're off?

And you answered:

yeah, couldn't stand being there much longer. think you could get off a little early?

When you made three turns, he sent back:

i'll try, peach 💙

When you got home, you felt utterly defeated. Life felt like a never ending shitshow that refused to alleviate most of the stress you forced to endure. You were in tears by the time you got in the door, angrily stripping and getting a long, hot shower. You cried a little longer. When you got out, you got dressed in cozy shorts and one of Carmy's sweatshirts; going about a few household chores when you realized it was already past 9.

You didn't really want to, but you texted Carmy again,

hey, are you gonna be much later?

You made a simple meal, eating it in silence. When you were doing dishes, Carmy answered,

i don't know, going over menu items with syd. text you on my way home

You just went to bed, exhaustion from the week catching up to you.

Sometime later, you felt Carmy crawl into bed beside you. You were only half awake, but still turned over and nestled into his chest, hearing him sigh. "You're home late," you mumbled.

"Sorry f'wakin' you, Peach," he whispered, pecking your forehead. "You good, baby?"

"S'been a long fuckin' week," you squeezed him.

He sighed, "Sorry it was rough, Peach, but hey, hey, back up a little, 's kinda warm."

"But I haven't seen you."

"I know, but it's just warm. We'll cuddle in the morning, okay?" You only sighed and turned back over to face away from him. You resettled with your pillow, just settling when he asked in a hardened tone, "You mad?"

"No, Carmen, go to sleep."

"You sound mad."

"I'm not."

"I don't mean to piss you off, it's just been a long night f'me and I don't want to cuddle right now," he said in a sharp tone that made your stomach coil and churn.

"Shut up, I'm not mad, Carmen, go to sleep."

He scoffed, your irritation spiking. "You're really fucking mad 'cause I don't want you laying on me right now?"

"No, Carmen, Jesus - "

"Callin' me fuckin' Carmen doesn't help," he snapped.

You sat up and turned to him, "You want me to be mad? Maybe I'm a little pissed off that I've barely seen my boyfriend this week! Not like you've made an effort to speak to me, but I've had a pretty shitty time at work, too - so, excuse the fuck outta me for feeling disappointed!"

"Disappointed in fucking what, Peach? In not wanting t'cuddle right now?"

"Maybe, yeah! I'm upset, stressed out, maybe I just wanted some comfort, God! Now you're all up in arms, I just wanted to go to sleep - but no, you want to pick at me!"

"Oh, Jesus, fucking Christ! You couldn't just talk to me about you having a shitty week, you gotta be laid up on me? When the fuck did you get so Goddamn clingy and desperate for fucking attention? Huh? So fucking desperate for love? Sorry you had a shitty week, darling, but you're not alone in that. Sorry if it's fucking hot and I just want to sleep."

Feeling yourself fighting a losing battle because he wasn't listening, you just sighed, "Okay, Carmen."

He scoffed again, turning over to face away from you, "Know what? Fuck you, sweetheart."

You stared at his back for a long minute, feeling shocked by his words. "You can be such a fucking dick, you know that?" You snapped, standing from bed.

"And you can be a dramatic bitch."

"Yeah, that's me, the bitch you chose, huh!?" You rolled your eyes and nodded sarcastically; taking the blanket from the end of the bed, figuring he wouldn't miss it since he was so fucking hot. With only your phone and charger, you went out to the living room and crashed on the couch; covering up and crying quietly into a pillow from the overwhelming stress built in your chest. You felt guilt plunging your stomach, tearing it apart; feeling as if it were your fault for having physical touch as a love language.

Sleep evaded you that night. About an hour before your alarm, you called in sick and shut your phone off, resettling in misery as Carmy left the bedroom for work. You didn't move, never opened your eyes. However, they popped open in surprise when Carmen shoved your shoulder, "Hey."

"What?" You muttered.

"You're late for work."

"Called in."

He snorted, "Yeah, must be nice."

You didn't say anything else, feeling utterly defeated by his sharp words. The lack of response made Carmy pause and glance over at you from the kitchen, honest surprise coloring his system because he usually knew you to bite back. But you were quiet and still, the only indication you were even alive being the slow drag of your shoulders.

He let the door slam after he left for work, and you instantly sobbed. What you didn't know was that Carmy had come back, forgetting something mundane, and came to a halt outside the door when he heard you crying. He felt guilty, but Carmy wasn't usually one to confront problems; he instead ran away, like always.

After a night of exhaustion, you finally cry yourself to sleep.

When Carmy got home that night after work, he found you still huddled on the couch. After a look around, he realized you hadn't moved all day; nothing to eat, nothing to drink... He wanted to wake you but still felt so fucking irritated from his job that the idea of reconciling with you felt far fetched. So, he did what he did best and isolated himself by going to the gym for a few hours.

You still hadn't woken up when he got back.

So, he just went to bed; hating sleeping alone but hating his pride more because it refused to let him get up and go get you. Carry you to bed. Smother you in apologies. Beg for forgiveness. He was cold that night.

You were awake around 4 am.

The entire apartment felt as cold and aloof as your boyfriend. You felt so silly for still being there, knowing you paid for an apartment of your own, but liking that Carmy's place was closer to your work. And he never asked you to leave, in fact, the times you went home, he was calling you within hours to beg you to come back because he hated sleeping alone.

Whatever happened to that lad? The one who was so in-love with you that he would desperately ask you to come "home" to him? Who was this man now? Who called you clingy, desperate... A bitch.

You could only stand to make coffee, feeling powerless in this tension. You didn't want him to ignore you any longer, feeling like you'd drop to your knees for his forgiveness if it would end this feud; but you weren't so naïve. You spent several long minutes mentally prepping yourself for more anxiety, telling yourself you could handle the day if you just powered through it. Everything should be fine so long as you didn't do anything else to upset him, as long as you didn't do anything to warrant him yelling at you - again.

You finally decided on an emotion, since you could feel so many at any given point in time, and since this situation was one you've never encountered before. Carmy had brought forth one of your biggest insecurities and then smashed it in your face like punk-ass siblings did to your birthday cake. You decided you were hurt by his words, tone, and actions; you were hurt by the man you loved unconditionally, and that was a terrifying thought on its own. He was once a man you thought couldn't do any wrong, to now being a man you were unsure of how to even speak to; fearful, as you once were as a child, to upset him and create hostility directed at you.

Carmy often forgot he didn't have a monopoly on toxic, complicated family dynamics, but being that Mikey was still so fresh for him, you kept quiet about your own issues in an effort to be a loving, supportive girlfriend. Yet even while trying not to upset anyone, to create tension, you somehow managed to. You felt your heart and soul shrivel into a withered raisin when you remembered your family and how they constantly put you down; saying that nobody wanted a girl like you who tried, tried, and tried again only to fail. They thought you were damaged goods, treated you as such and always smeared your name in the mud whenever you thought you had found someone to love you and be loved by you.

All that trauma was rearing its ugly head now, making doubt sink into the cracks of your relationship. No matter how hard he tried, Carmy couldn't ever take those words back once they've been said, and he had to understand that going forward, this would strain your relationship. Taking anger and frustration out on you was inappropriate, putting a bad taste in your mouth; making you wonder how the hell you'd ever move past this when his words circled your head like water draining from the sink.

Sometime around 9 am, you were curled up on the couch with your coffee and a book; Saturday dragging by slowly to allow you the reprieve of being off work. The bedroom door opened and you held your breath; sweat breaking out on your brow; heart stammering in your chest. When he came out, Carmy didn't look at you, which allowed you to watch him. He made a to-go cup of coffee, then shouldered his backpack before heading for the door.

"Carmy?" You asked softly in confusion, "I thought you were off today?"

"I am," he replied stiffly, "but I gotta run errands."

You didn't have time to respond before he was storming out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him. You blinked in shock, confusion plunging your heart to your feet as you realized he didn't ask you to join him, in fact, he didn't appear to want to tell you his plans until you had to ask directly when he was walking out the door. You felt terrible, more tears swelling in your eyes at the discord your boyfriend prolonged.

Something in your heart snapped and you stood from your seat. With anger coursing through your veins, you turned into a miniature tornado and quickly started gathering whatever you could get your hands on that belonged to you. You had enough, you felt hurt, yes, we established this, but then the disrespect started to overflow out of your heart to color your blood. Never linger where you're not wanted, you should never tear yourself down to that level. Never should have to second guess yourself, either - especially in a space where you're supposed to be safe.

You started to wonder: is it clingy if you made dinner and saved him a plate? Is it clingy if you did his laundry? What about cuddling? Is that clingy? Well, apparently! What else are you wrong about? If you texted him? Asked his opinion? What about if you held his hand - is that clingy, too? Probably!

Physical touch and quality time were your love languages, but after this reaction, you wondered if everything you'd do from now on would be judged? Would you be crucified for showing your love? For trying to participate in your relationship?

All day, you moved your stuff back to your apartment. All shoes, clothes, purses, make-up, haircare and skincare products - any and all period products, too. You left fucking nothing; going as far as to lay face-down the photo of your two on his bedside stand. You'd of taken it, too, but you felt sick at the thought so you left it for him. Sunday night, you didn't return to his apartment, and Carmy didn't call to say goodnight; both figuring the other was still pissed off. Your Monday was long and annoying, but once it was over, you had to admit, it was strange returning to an empty apartment, heat up leftovers, eat while watching some Netflix show, and then crashing into bed - moving mechanically.

Days passed uneventfully, albeit, a bit sluggishly. And then, Thursday arrived, and with it, the shit that would hit the fan.

You were enraptured in this book by Anne Tyler called "Dinner At The Homesick Restaurant," and couldn't stop reading it. You nursed a mug of tea, the outside darkening with an approaching thunderstorm that would talk to you in the silence and send bolts of lightning to illuminate the city. A shrill ringtone then played, making you jump slightly and glance at your phone only to see Carmy's contact name and photo.

You stare at your phone for a long moment, and then, after convincing yourself that ignoring him would only add fuel to the fire, answered quietly, "Hello?"

"Peach? Hey, uh... Are you, um, still at work?"

"No?"

"Where are you, then?"

"I'm home."

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I am."

"I'm standing right here and you're not, baby, unless you got superpowers or something?" He chuckled nervously, hearing nothing on your end. "In fact, I, uh... I don't see any of your things. You move 'em?"

He'd never admit it, but your personal touch in his living space transformed it into a home; and now that they were all gone, he hated how cold, dreary, and grey the apartment felt.

"Carmy, I mean my home. You know? The apartment I still pay for?"

"Oh, well... Why're you there?"

"Why wouldn't I be? I had to bring my stuff back and leave it somewhere safe."

"It was safe here, Peach," he argued.

"Yeah, but it's your space and last thing I need is to be yelled at and insulted again for being clingy 'cause I left clothes at your apartment."

"Fuc'k's sake," You heard him hiss under his breath, bringing tears to your eyes. "You know I don't mind, I want you to leave shit here so it's easier on you to commute. Look, you know it's Thursday, right? Does our standing date night ring any bells?"

"Okay, but we haven't honored that in weeks? You know, 'cause you've been really busy."

"I thought we could get back into it tonight."

You sighed, turning the page in your book, "No, I don't think so, but thanks anyway."

He took a long pause, asking nervously, "What's wrong, Peach?"

"Nothing. Is there anything else, Carmen? I'm in the middle of shit."

"Oh, uh, n-no, I guess that's it. You comin' over tomorrow?"

"No. I told my brother I'd help him this weekend."

"But tomorrow's... Friday?"

"Yeah, that's how a calendar works. I have to travel to get to him," you scoffed.

"You didn't think to tell me?"

"Why would I?"

"You tell me everything! You don't think that's something I should know? That my girl's not even gonna be here this weekend?"

"Well, you're the one who said I was fucking clingy, remember!?" You finally snapped. "So, I'm giving you all that space you wanted!"

"Baby - "

"No, it's a great idea. We need space, Carmen; this isn't fair to either of us anymore," you spoke seriously, the line going quiet.

"What?"

"We need space from this relationship."

"I don't. I don't need space, Peach, baby, no, just listen, okay? I'm so sorry, I came home stressed out and I took it out on you. I'm sorry, I really am, this isn't what I want. Okay? I'm sorry. Just - come back home and we can - "

"No, you know what? I think I'm the one who needs this space," you snapped. "You said some pretty fucked up things, Carmen, that you can't ever take back, and now that I know, I can't un-know what you think about me. So, I need time to sort myself out."

"What're you saying? A-Are you breaking up with me?"

"Not yet, no."

"Baby, don't do this. C'mon, okay? I'm sorry, baby, I-I-I was wrong for what I said, I didn't - I didn't mean it! None of it, okay? Know I love you, baby, please, just come home, okay? I'm so sorry, I love that you wanna be close to me, I shouldn't've pushed you away. I'm sorry, okay? Please, baby, I'm so sorry. I need you, Peach, please. Just come home, we'll talk it through, I promise, no yelling - "

"I think you already said it all. Your words were 'clingy' and 'desperate'. Oh, and you also called me a 'bitch', so, I'd hate to be the bitch that makes your already stressful life all the harder."

"I didn't mean that - "

"I gotta go, Carmen, we'll talk later, okay? Goodnight."

He froze when he listened to those three distinct beeps that indicated you hung up on him. Confusion and hurt now seeped into the cracks of Carmy's heart; wondering when the hell he'd become so Goddamn self destructive to ruin the best thing he's ever had - you. The apartment might as well turned into ice with the way the light left, your departure suddenly haunting him.

When will these boys learn? The love of a good woman is rare, they'd only ever be so lucky as to think they deserve a woman like you. Nobody ever gets to guilt you for your love language(s) and then grovel for forgiveness. You deserve better, you deserve more; whether you could see that right now or not, you deserved to be loved in the best way for you. And sometimes, that means walking away from something you once thought was exactly what you wanted, but perhaps, never what you needed - call that God's Plan.

[ part two: ] Two to Tango

requesting rules and masterlist

The Bear masterlist

Clingy Baby collection masterlist

[missdynamighttt]

okay not an ask but ive been dying to see some filo reader x katsuki 🙏🙏 katsuki would be so mesmerized he would learn to cook every dish there is and ask if it tastes like home UGH MY BABY

i know its NOT an ask but ><

katsuki wasn’t one to ask for help, but for you? he’d do anything.

you had been feeling a little down lately, and he knew that one of the things that always made you feel better was your favorite filipino dish. the only problem? he had no damn clue how to make it.

which is how he found himself pacing in the kitchen, his phone pressed to his ear as it rang.

"hello? sino 'to? (who's this?)" your mom’s voice came through, warm and familiar.

"hey, tita (auntie)," katsuki greeted, a little awkwardly but determined to speak at least a little bit of tagalog. "it's katsuki. i, uh… need your help with something... po."

"oh?" she sounded amused. "what is it, 'nak? (child?)"

he cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. "i wanna cook her favorite dish for her po, but... i dunno how. thought you could, y’know… teach me."

there was a pause, and then—laughter. "ay, ang sweet mo naman! (oh, you're so sweet!)"

he huffed, his cheeks warming. "tch. just help me out po, tita... please?"

your mom giggled but started giving him the instructions, step by step. katsuki listened intently, taking notes like it was the most important mission of his life. when he messed something up, your mom scolded him like he was her own son.

"no, no, not like that! ay nako (oh my gosh), katsuki, don’t burn it!"

"i’m not burning it!" he retorted, quickly adjusting the heat.

by the end of the call, he had the dish almost perfect—maybe not as good as your mom’s, but damn close.

"thank you po, tita," he muttered, a little embarrassed but genuinely grateful.

"of course, anak," she said fondly. "you take care of my baby, okay?"

he smiled softly. "always."

katsuki wasn’t the type to get nervous. he could take down villains, handle the most intense hero work, and push himself past his limits without hesitation.

but right now?

he had set everything up carefully—your favorite dish, cooked to the best of his ability, plated nicely in front of you. he sat across from you, arms crossed, but you could see the way his fingers tapped restlessly against his bicep.

"i know you’ve been feelin’ kinda down lately," he muttered, not quite meeting your eyes. "figured... maybe this would help."

you blinked at him, surprised, before looking down at the plate. your heart swelled. he did all of this for you?

"katsu..." you whispered, touched beyond words.

"just eat it already," he grumbled, trying to sound impatient, but you could see the way his jaw was tight, the slight furrow of his brows. he cared—he really cared.

so you took a bite.

the moment the flavors hit your tongue, a wave of emotions crashed over you. it wasn’t exactly like your mom’s, but it was damn close. the effort, the heart, the love behind it made it even better.

"this is amazing, kats," you said, looking up at him with genuine admiration. "how the hell did you pull this off? did you use a youtube tutorial? google recipes?"

katsuki scoffed, leaning back in his chair with a smug look. "tch. you think i’d trust some half-assed internet recipe?"

you raised an eyebrow. "then how—"

he huffed, looking away, suddenly seeming a little flustered. "called your mom," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "she walked me through it."

your eyes widened. "you called my mom?"

"yeah, yeah, don’t make a big deal out of it," he grumbled, avoiding your gaze. "figured if i was gonna do it, i’d do it right. so i asked the expert."

you stared at him for a moment, your heart swelling with warmth. "katsuki... that’s so—"

"shut up," he cut in quickly, face slightly pink. "just eat, dammit."

but you couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face. he had gone out of his way to talk to your mom, to learn something that would comfort you. it wasn’t just about the food—it was about you.

you took another bite, savoring the taste and the love behind it.

"i love you, y’know that?" you said, smiling at him.

katsuki clicked his tongue, trying to act unaffected, but the way his ears burned gave him away. "yeah, yeah… i love you too. just finish your damn food."

but when you looked down at your plate again, you felt his hand reach for yours under the table, giving it a small, firm squeeze. and that, more than anything, told you exactly how much he cared.

katsuki watched you like a hawk, leaning in just slightly. "does it… y’know… does it taste like home?"

your chest tightened, warmth blooming in your heart.

"it does," you murmured, squeezing his hand back. "it tastes like home because you feel like home, katsuki."

he stiffened for a second, almost not sure how to process your words.

"tch. sappy little shit," he muttered, but you could hear the smile in his voice, feel the way his grip tightened like he never wanted to let go.

"you're my home too, sweets."

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧

[verxca]

Hiii I maybe something with Jason who was recently injured nothing serious but enough to put him out of commission for a few days but for these few days the reader has been doing everything ,picking up his responsibilities,doing things for him and he realizes that it’s taking a toll on her so he persuades her to rest along side him

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆ ୨ ♡ ୧ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆ [ imagine #02 ]

[ j. todd ] ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆ ୨ ♡ ୧ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

── . ✦ in which you tire yourself out for jason after he’d been hit with an injury, and he eases you into slowing down with him when he notices your stress.

On a typical day, you and Jason split tasks equally. Despite his rampant life of crime outside on the city streets of Gotham, he was still very domestic and responsible when back at your place. You would usually cook a nice dinner to share - He’d sweep the floors - And you’d always take a romantic hot shower together afterwards.

Despite your combined efforts, not everything remained completely equilibrated. You knew he was at a disadvantage… and you would be lying if you said you weren’t worried sick every day and night when he parts. Your stress was only fortified when he came home late one day with a sprained ankle!

“Jason… You need to rest, okay? I’m not letting you out the house like this. Please.” His eyebrows furrowed, a pain clenching his heart at your worry. “Okay- okay.” He nods reluctantly, hugging you.

You took extra care of him that night just to make sure; making his favourite food, doing all his laundry, cleaning the bathroom and kitchen, etc. You didn’t mind it, in fact, you liked taking care of Jason. He ushered you into bed afterwards, though.

Yet as the days continued on, more and more tasks got lifted onto your shoulders simultaneously. Even after Jason was forced to relax (reluctantly… the task of convincing him to stay in bed was probably the hardest of all), you still ran around the apartment. More papers you had to write, more errands you had to run, and more tasks you had to complete for Jason’s health and wellbeing piled up in the matter of hours and days.

You were currently finishing up an extra load of landry, packing your towels into the broom cupboard. Shit! You had forgotten to make dinner, too! Your gaze shifts towards the stove top, the time reading half past eight. You contemplate on what to make, and if you even wanted to make it in the first place. But then again, Jason… He was still recovering, and needed to build his strength back up. It’d be best if you made something small— You could have the leftovers.

You rush back into your shared bedroom to ask what he was up for, noticing quickly that he was already seated up on the bed— waiting for you in a manner. “You know you don’t have to do all this shit, babe, right?” You pause, standing in the doorway.

“Sorry?” Jason pauses, before starting up again. “This- I mean, you’re killing your self here, hon. You’re gonna’ work yourself to death doing too much for me. I’ve been seeing you run around all day.” You frown, taking a second to look back on everything. Sure, it’d been stressful, but you were just trying to help him, is all. After a second you walk over, sitting next to your lover on the duvet. His expression was evidently worried— Eyes flashing with love as he put a comforting hand on your knee.

“I’m just trying to help, Jay-” You explain, not really knowing how to put it into words, or even what to say for that matter. You just wanted to be a good, responsible girlfriend. “I know, I know, but you gotta relax too, yeah? If you managed to convince me to rest, then I sure as hell can convince you too.”

A chuckle almost immediately escaped your lips, and you nod after understanding his words. “This isn’t about some domestic shit, is it?” You pause, thinking. Maybe it was… again, you just wanted to take care of your boyfriend. Cleaning, cooking— They were common tasks, but still. On top of all that extra work, it was practically impossible to complete alone, let alone stay in a healthy mindset while running around.

He had to be right after all… plus, cuddling in bed sounded nice for the both of you right now. “Let’s order out, then watch a movie, okay?” You try to protest, but Jason had already pulled you into a kiss.

[simpjaes]

how about when the hyung line is just too big for ur little tight cunt? need the mtl please bcs I think it'll be HOT!

hyung line + cock too big, pussy too little syndrome ™

warning: size kink, reader is described as small compared to each member, use of words like: little, tiny, small, tight, kinda dub con. note: this is not an mtl, it's just a drabble for each hyung line hottie.

★ heeseung:

Fuck.

Heeseung knew he was bigger than average but...fuck. When he brought you home from the party he honestly expected you to be able to take it. All of it in one go, really. But no. Barely half of his cock is in you and you're shaking. Clinging to him with a pained look on your face, taking in deep breaths to adjust only to moan out of pain when he tries to push in a little more.

It's kind of driving him fucking wild. Especially in the way he's used to hearing girls moan and groan about how perfectly sized he is, about how big and painful it can be. You though, you can barely fucking take it, unlike those other girls.

Goddamn.

"Yeah." He starts, looking you straight in your teary eyes as he painfully presses in further. "Gonna open that pussy up for me, aren't you?"

You frantically nod, feeling his cock reach so deep inside of you, feeling his girth nearly tear you apart. It's like with each little push, he hits a wall that should tell him to stop, but he only pushes further. Past the block and penetrating your soft and insanely tense walls.

"Tiny." He grits his teeth, pushing, pushing, pushing until he's stuffed his entire length in you. "So fucking tiny."

☆ jay:

"Just a little more," Jay coos at you, rubbing your waist as he slowly presses in. "Hold onto me." He knows well enough that it doesn't feel good for you. Not yet at least. And when he watches you shake your head, trying hard to breathe through the feeling of his thick and darkened head pushing and prodding you open, he can't help but continue to talk you through it. "No?" He whispers in his own half-moan, still pressing in, inch by inch. "I'm already almost in baby, you can take it." He's right about it too, seeing as how you've taken it before. Given, that was only once considering this is only the second time you've hooked up with him. You're not sure why you called him of all people, remembering how difficult it was to get his full cock inside of you last time and the soreness that came after. Then again, maybe it's because of his consistent texting since that night. Not even sexting either. Just gentle conversation, interesting conversation. Like maybe this doesn't need to be a hook-up sooner or later. Who knows? And it continues like this. He presses an inch in, pauses, lets your tight cunt jerk him off, then he tells you to breathe and pushes in another inch. You're so wet too, he's practically obsessed. Never has a pussy so small taken him in full like this, then again, it's not like he's ever been with someone this tight and this fucking tiny. Obsessed is right. No matter how fucking wet you get for him, it doesn't make the slide any easier, even when you're relaxed, you're still so tight around him. Just like now, where he can finally move and fuck you without holding himself back. Which is hard to do, mind you. You cling to him through each painful and bruising thrust, and he lets you. Flexing every muscle in his body so you have something to really hold on to.

And god the way you moan through the pain. He would make you cum in an instant, he thinks, with the way you start moving your own hips to match his rhythm.

The wet sound squelching, like music to his ears especially when paired with your needy whines. "Feels so good, doesn't it baby?"

★ sunghoon:

All day. All fucking day Sunghoon could do this if that's what it takes. Three weeks since you started dating, the first time you had his cock in your hand was also the first time you decided to be afraid to let him fuck you. Something so huge cannot naturally fit inside of you without him blatantly impaling you and probably landing you in the hospital. But god, does he know how to get you horny. With those pretty fingers offering just not enough to be satisfied. With his tongue swiping perfectly but never being filled to full capacity. It's the first time you've even considered letting him stick his dick in you, and arguably, you see why you avoided it until now when he finally does start sliding in. It's not that the thickness hurts, it's just that fact that the fucking slide never stops. You could have sworn he had his whole dick in you ten seconds ago, considering he fucked himself in and out of you a few times before sliding in more. The reach is deeper than you've ever felt. A sharp pain hitting you right in the center of the gut only for him to manage to push in even further. You swear he's breaking something in you and he isn't even actually fucking you just yet. "There you go." Sunghoon coos once he finally bottoms out in you, reaching his hand forward to trace his fingers along your lips. "See? You can take it, love." For just a second, you believed him. But then he started fucking moving. God, you're seeing stars and planets and heaven and hell all in one thrust. He pulls his hips back so far just to slam into you. He knows it hurts too, but he can't be gentle when you're looking like this. So small lying under him, just fucking taking it.

☆ jake:

Jake barely realized you were in pain before he felt your fingernails scratching down his back and you whimpered out a small "take it out." He pulled back to look at you in shock, rutting his hips back and forth into your swollen and glistening hole. It's only been a few seconds since he pushed in, and it's the first time he's ever been asked to take it out?! For you though, you were expecting him to take it slow. Not get between your legs and fucking sink into you without so much as letting you adjust to his size before pounding it into your cervix. He does as he's told though, sliding out just as painfully as he slid in before gripping his cock and holding it just at your entrance. "What? Why?" He asks, not realizing he had knocked the breath out of himself stuffing such a cock in that tight space. "You're...big," You look away from him, feeling embarrassed that you really just told him to fucking pull out. "Too big." Only now does Jake smile, a glint in his eye growing dark and even more aroused than he already was.

"Oh, yeah?" He smiles, teasing your hole with the head of his cock. "You don't think you can take it?" He continues, pressing right back into you and now relishing in that small, tight heat you wish he'd be gentle with. You shake your head frantically, opening your mouth in a silent sob as he uses you, slamming in and out. In, out, in, out. "You already are, babe." He grunts, hunching over to attach his lips to your nipple. "Taking it so fucking well too." You're not sure why that makes you feel proud, but it does.

[zlut4rina]

Imy♡

Storyline: Working overnight at a busy office job wasn't everyone's cup of tea, especially not your clingy girlfriends.

Pairings: Student!Ning x Businesswoman!reader

Warnings: public sex, phone sex, dirty talk (ithink)

Note: Both are 18+, obviously, ik I said I was making ning fluff, which I am obviously, but i wanted to make it two parts, and this just came to mind for part 1. Sorre

Word count: 2k (pretty short, idk how you could make 5k+ with just phone sex 😭)

___________________________________________

You hated your job. It was one of the most insufferable places on earth. But the money was good, you needed the money. You weren’t struggling to pay rent or for food. You were actually quite ahead on your bills. The reason being was because of this job, also with the help of your pretty roommate. After the fallout between you guys and a mutual friend, she was kicked out of their house. So you decided to take her in, of course. Unlike you, she was tight on money but somehow still managed to stay in her uni without problem. Ever since then, you two have been living together, then long after you bloomed a relationship with her. She was now your girlfriend of one year and three months, and you couldn’t be happier.

Present time

While finishing up a few papers left by your boss, you noticed some unopened emails on your screen. When opening them, you see at least 5 different request sent to you by a few employers and your boss. You sigh in annoyance, having a feeling you’re going to be here a bit longer than planned. Scrolling through your inbox, skimming through everything, you finally click one and start working. That’s when a coworker walks up to you, leaning on your wall divider. “How long you plan on being here, I thought only six of us had the night shift.” His question sounded genuine with concern in his voice, looking around the office as if scanning to make sure his count was right. “Seven is an odd number y’know” he lets out a stupid chuckle, one you’ve hated for so long. Looking up at him, taking you from your concentration, you spoke. “I have extra work I need to get done. Maybe I’ll be promoted, who knows. Doubt you would.” The last remark was snarky. You gave him a sarcastic smile, turning back to your work. The man left with a scoff, not before whipping a few papers off your desk, scrambling them in the process. You clicked your teeth at this. It wasn’t anything new. It wasn’t something you weren’t used to by now.

Continuing your work, already done with three of the assignments listed to you, your phone rang. Feeling the buzz on your thigh, you take it out, to your realization it was your girlfriend. You turn your head to the bottom corner of your computer screen to check the time. Seeing it was two hours past when you’d usually be home, a bit of sadness washed over you. Picking up the phone, you put it to your ear. “Hey baby, sorry I’m not home yet. I’ve got extra work I’ve gotta get done.” You spoke quietly into the speaker of your phone. Not to draw attention to yourself, your coworkers were all across the room, some just a row behind you. “It’s fine. I was just worried, is all” your girlfriend said, shuffling in bed, to get comfortable. “How long till you can come home, I miss you” she said in a whiny tone, her voice a bit hoarse due to being tired. She must’ve just woken up, you thought to yourself before answering her. “A while, baby, not too long, though. Don’t miss me too much, cutie.” You chuckled a bit as you spoke, earning a playful whine from the other side of the phone. “Hey I’m gonna connect my headphones so I can finish this work, okay, cutie?” The other girl responded in a hum as you pulled out your airpods and connected them to your phone. I'm sitting right next to your keyboard as you get back to work.

Half an hour had passed with you giggling and snickering at your phone. Finishing some more work, the other end of the call was a bit silent sometimes. She didn’t answer you with words mostly with hums or a few “uh huh’s” there wasn’t a problem in that at all, she was probably sleepy I mean its way passed 10 so of course she’s a bit less talkative. “I miss you” suddenly the other side of the phone spoke. Your eyes widened a bit, taking you out of your trance, and the corner of your lips formed a small grin. “I wish you were here right now” your girlfriend spoke in a soft tone. Barley able to hear her. “Me too, baby. I hope you're keeping the bed warm for me when I get home.” You let out a soft chuckle as she giggled quietly. Once again, you heard shuffling through the phone her sighs we slightly audible too. “Are you sleepy?” You asked after the other end went silent. It took a while to gain a response from her. “No, I can’t sleep, not yet” You laughed a bit at her words. Between the two of you, Ning was very clingy she held onto you like a lost puppy. You two were always together. She would even follow you to the bathroom sometimes. She loved being your little spoon, too, anytime you two cuddled. “You should sleep, love, I won’t be home till maybe around one in the morning” saying this caused you to frown. You really wanted to be in bed right now. Holding your favorite girl, planting sweet, soft kisses on her. But no, you just HAD to notice those emails. “I tried, I need you here, holding me. Your arms wrapped around me, I need you.” Hearing her voice, she sounded so needy, desperate. She really did need you, especially at this very moment.

“I miss you too. I can’t stand being away from you for this long. I haven’t kissed you in forever.” You whined out quietly. It really has been long, seeing as two of your coworkers have already left and headed home. “There’s a lot you haven’t done to me in a while …” the other side spoke, catching you off guard. You froze. Ruffling and strange movements were heard from your phone. It lasted a while, too. Coming to your senses, you finally connected a few dots “Like what baby” you asked in a mocking tone, smiling to yourself as well. “I think you know” her voice was husky, yet her words flew out smoothly. “Hmm I’m not sure. Maybe you could refresh my memory?” You teasingly asked her, your smiling becoming a bit bigger. “Fuck why can’t you just get here already ..” She let out a sharp sigh as she spoke. You giggled at her words, she really does miss you huh “So impatient baby, hmm I wonder what would I be greeted with if I were there right now.” You leaned back in your chair, you felt a bit cocky in this moment crossing your arms behind your head. “Your very needy, wet, horny and spread girlfriend that’s what” you could hear her soft sighs and whines through your headphones. It was a bit too quiet for your liking so you turned your volume up. “That’s a sight to see y’know, fuck I’d love to be there right now and ruin you. I bet that’s what you want huh, my fingers deep inside your aching pussy” a few moans were heard along with a few wet sounds from her fingering her pussy. “Your so disgusting, touching yourself at this hour, begging to be fucked senseless”

Giggling to yourself in the moment you check your surroundings, seeing nobody is paying you any mind you continue to focus in your desperate lover. “I bet you can’t wait for me to get home. Can’t wait for me to fucking ruin that pretty body of yours.” You bit your lip at the thought of it, sighing to yourself. Your girlfriends’ moans were getting louder, you heard a soft thud as your girlfriend placed her phone down beside her. “Fuck, I need you so bad right now!” Ning wasn’t really the time to vocalize her needs like this, she was quieter and let her body do most the talking when it came to sex between you two. Seeing this side if her changed something in you. You had to get this side out of her more often. “I can’t really hear you that well though baby, doesn’t sound like you miss me that much.” You tease her tilting your head placing your chin in your hands, staring at your computer screen. Imagining what she looks like right now. “You wanna hear how bad I need you, yea?” She took her phone in hand and turned her camera on. The camera facing the ceiling, before she slowly brought it down to her milky fingers going in and out of her drenched pussy. You could only stare at your screen, has she lost her mind ? This isn’t the same girl a few hours ago. This isn’t the same girl you gave breakfast in bed to earlier. Snapping you out of your thought, she moved her camera in all angles giving you the greatest views of her soaking wet body. “Fuck baby, see? See how bad I need you right now, you’re telling me work is more important than pleasing this?” her voice became higher in pitch the more she went on, bucking her hips into her hand. So desperate for more, so desperate for you.

The sound of her moans and the way her body moved into her hand was driving you crazy. That should be you. You should be the one pleasing her right now. Except you're stuck here watching your pretty girl work for her orgasm. Licking you’re lips at the sight, your hand slowly went down to your pants, unbutton them swiftly. Looking around the office for any wandering eyes. Your hands slipped down to your soaking panties circling your clit slowly. A soft sigh left your lips as you closed your eyes gently. Your motion on yourself fastening, closing your legs ever so slightly due to the feeling rushing inside you. “Baby ..” you whispered head falling down, biting your lip a little. Roughly enough to leave a mark. Moving from your panties you put your hand inside playing with your wet fold. Slowly teasing your entrance, moving your fingers in and out, but not the full length of them. Your girlfriends’ moans were louder than before the camera shaking, hips bucking up and down. Her tiny whines and quiet curses driving you nuts. “You close baby?” you asked working your fingers in yourself. “mhm …” She answered her voice whiney and needy. Flipping the camera she faced it to her exposed chest, cupping one breast and playing with her nipple. Of course taking her hand away from her heat upset her a bit, but she knew you loved seeing her touch herself. Just for you and nobody else. “So pretty baby, you look so good. Fuck I wish I was there to taste you” your words making her whine and bite her lip, putting her fingers back into her soaking wet pussy. “I wanna feel your tongue deep inside me, taste how good you make me feel.” You couldn’t help the moan that escaped your lips, and honestly you didn’t care if anyone heard. Your too focused on the beautiful piece of art in front of you to care.

Your pace with your fingers quickened inside you, spreading your legs a little wider for easier access. Biting your lip to conceal your moans, you threw your head back against the head of your chair. Phone in one hand and the other in your pants. You could feel your climax reaching near. You could tell she was close too with the way her body was moving and how fast her hand had gotten. “You better cum baby, just for me, ruin those sheets” you gritted your teeth together and you felt closer and closer to the edge having forgotten all about your work, the time, and if the people around you were aware of your little situation. “Fuck baby I’m so close, I wanna cum in your mouth all over your face.” Her words sent you over the edge cumming all over your hands and in your pants. You wanted to close your eyes but you couldn’t look away from her perfect body and how it reacted to finally releasing all that built up tension in her code. She let out high pitched moans and cute whines as she came, not stopping after wetting her fingers she played with her clit a little more. The fast circles she was rubbing on herself made her squirt all over the bed her camera catching all of it. Her body squirmed at the pleasure and release. The call was almost quiet, all that could be heard was the heavy breaths your girlfriend was taking. Her small gasp and her little whimpers. You watched all this go down, finally growing tired of waiting you buttoned your pants up and packed your things to head out and head home to your girlfriend. “Fuck, hurry home, okay? I miss you” your girlfriend said before ending the call.

___________________________________________

[imdoingsortagay]

And They Were Roommates

Summary: Rio get's a roommate in you and suddenly she can't function.

Warnings: Smut so 18+ , Rio doing suspicious shit, Top!Rio Vidal, Bottom!reader, pet names with this women, biting, some fluff, aftercare ( because it's important),

Word count: 3.4k

a/n: i was gonna spend a good week on this fic fuck it you get it now because my professors are already on midterm talk. also thank @yourlocalsaiko for the funny ask comment they left on the sneak peek of this for influencing me to finish this. And also happy birthday to @harknessdoll. If this does good maybe a part 2 or little series ????? who knows

Happy reading

Renting a small cottage in the middle of the woods, well not middle maybe like 10 miles away from town seemed like a good idea at the time. No having to deal with noisy neighbors, having a cute little driveway to not share with anyone and not to mention not being woken up to traffic. 

It sounded like the perfect thing until you heard a loud bang that woke you from your slumber, who in the fuck was in your cottage. 

“ Fucking hell,” you mumble to yourself. Good thing Kate had recommended buying that bat incase anyone came in, bedtime you do need to actually buy a weapon of some sort or at least invest in some security. The noise gets louder as you make your way to the kitchen, hear what seems to be a lady humming a tune while she’s looking for something to eat in the fridge. 

“ You leave for a couple of years to explore and someone can think they can just move in ? In my cottage? In my home?” She mumbles to herself. 

“ IM RENTING THIS PLACE YOU ASS” you yell as you try to hit her but her reflexes are faster than you. The lady quickly grabs the bat from you, throwing it somewhere in the kitchen but what she doesn’t expect you to do is bite her back. 

“ OWWWWWWWWWWW” 

Your smile fades quickly when the intruder quickly pins you to the kitchen floor preventing you from moving or biting her again. 

“ Who the fuck are you and why are you even in my house” She asks you

“ Someone posted this place on a realtor site to rent and he’s been renting it to me for the past 6 months,” you explain,” can you let me go now, I promise not to bite you again I swear”. 

“ Just cause I might have abandoned this place 40 years ago doesn’t mean some stupid man can come and rent it to some random person,” she tells you. 

“ Does this mean I need to find another place to live?” You say after a bit of silence which makes the woman giggle. She felt bad that you didn’t know this was her home but it had been years since she had shared her place with anyone besides her ex partner. 

“ If you give me whoever rented this place from you I might let you stay,” she pauses a bit ,” whatever your name is “. 

“ Y/n and no totally will do that, he kind of gave me the ick when he was showing me places too. Like he recommended me this house in New Jersey but the vibe was off so I said no then he was flirting with me way too-“ the mystery woman covers your mouth to prevent you from yapping anymore.

“ Gonna visit this man right away in the morning y/n, he sounds terrible,” and she leaves you to head to the other bedroom,”

“ Wait what’s your name ?” 

“ Rio,” she pauses dramatically ,” Rio Vidal, have a goodnight babe”. 

________________________

After the weird encounter with Rio, she had left around 9am to go talk with Anthony the realtor, not telling you anything else besides a bye. Left you with the cottage for most of the day to finish some emails for work, clean up the mess from late in the night and even make a chicken soup for Rio, or at least for you if she didn’t eat meat. Just as a thank you for not kicking her. 

“ Get Norm the email about next month’s projection sales,” you read around to nobody inside, wondering when she’d come back. 

She’s a grown ass woman who looks like she can easily defend herself. There’s no need to worry where she might be going. Rio has known you for less than half a day I doubt she’s gonna tell you her whereabouts. 

“ God that man is such a crybaby,” Rio announces as you hear the door open, pushing the relief away when she comes towards the kitchen to the smell of chicken soup. It smelled really good, she forgot how it was to not be the only person in this home or at least have someone even cooking at all. 

Rio sees you in the kitchen, trying your very best to act chill around. 

“ Here’s this back, I took care of Bob for you, “ she casually tells you as she goes towards the stove to serve herself some soup. 

“ What do you mean ‘ take care of bob ‘ Rio? “ 

“ Don’t worry about it babe” and when you look in the bad you find a large amount of money. 

“ All your rent money from the past couple of months from that fucking idiot” rio explains , you were gonna ask either way. 

“ so does this mean you’re kicking me out ? I can pay rent don’t worry or if not I can try to find another place to move to since this is your house and all”. 

Rio thinks about it. On one hand , she’s had this house for hundreds of years so there’s no need for you to pay rent. But on the other hand, you really didn’t know that this was her house so it would be rude to expect you to leave so soon. 

You were a little cute after all so this could work in her way if she wanted. 

“ I’ll let you stay on one condition,” you nod, too afraid to say anything due to her very serious demeanor. 

“ Keep doing what you’ve been doing around the place, don’t disturb me when I’m in my room and when I need a favor you do it,” she states. Should be simple enough for you to follow. 

“ You got it pretty ?” 

“ Yes “ 

“ Yes what ? “ 

“ Yes Ma’am?” You say more as a question than a statement. 

“ Good job honey” she coos, paying close attention to the way that you blushed a bit being called the pet name. 

————

“ What the fuck are you even doing up at 7am?” 

“ Good morning to you too princess,” she says as you walk into the kitchen, your slumber being interrupted by whatever she was doing inside. 8am was enough time for you to get ready for work, especially since you do remote work for the most part. 

It’s only been a day since Rio had let you stay and to stay the change was a bit weird for you was an understatement. 

Both of you have mostly been lightly joking with each other half of the time, maybe a bit of flirting to be honest but she’s pretty cute. Doesn’t help that she’s always calling you all these pet names. 

“ Breakfast is on the table babe,” you see a perfectly set plate on the table for you,” based on what you had stocked up in the fridge”.

“ Thank you Rio,”. 

“ No problem hot stuff” she says in the sweetest tone, leaving you alone in the kitchen to question what she might have planned.

———————

One week living with Rio and so far, she’s been wonderful as a roommate. Helps with dishes when you make dinner, keeps the living room spotless, a little loud at night but nothing you can’t handle. 

For a Saturday night, Rio was unsure why you decided to spend it at home and not out like most humans would do. 

“ Reading a book and enjoying some wine ? Boring “, Rio announces as she walks into the living room in her casual fit. Choosing to wear an oversized t shirt of hers and simple pair of shorts. 

“ It’s too far for me to go out rio,” you tell the woman sitting next to you, not bothering to tell her to move. It felt kind of nice to have the other woman sit next to you and not just a pillow of yours like most of the time. 

“ Awe someone as pretty as you doesn’t ever go out?” She coos. 

“ Not when it’s again, way too far to travel to a bar,” you repeat to her and before you can even get a sip of your wine she grabs it out of your hand. 

“ What the fuck ?” You yell back at her and before you can grab it back the woman in front of you chugs it. 

“ We need something stronger babe,” she tells you as she finishes the last of the drink with no shame,” follow me “. 

You don’t say anything when she grabs your hand, leading you to the one room in the cottage that she forbid you to going into, her room. 

Even before she had shown up back to her place, Bob had told you the room could not be unlocked and the windows were covered to anyone passing by and you felt weird about trying to unlock it yourself. When Rio had shown backup you never even got a peek at the inside of her room either so you were a bit excited to see what it was like. 

Was it just her room ? What colors did she choose? Is it decorated all nice or a bit of a mess ?  Did she have anyone in it before you were ? 

Wait, you guys are just roommates you can’t be thinking about that way about Rio at all. 

“ Close your eyes I can’t have you knowing how to open my room door can we princess???” She teases you. God you were not gonna survive this. 

A couple of seconds later you hear the door click open, Rio grabs your hand to lead you into her room and moves you a bit so you can stand in the middle of it. 

“ Open those pretty eyes for me,” you give yourself a couple of seconds to adjust to the light in the room to see the woman. Of course the wall are in her signature green color, a nice dark green to compliment the rest of the room. Paintings you assumed she made herself in the spare time, a mini fridge with what you assumed is where the alcohol she was talking about and a nice queen sized bed in the middle of the room.

“ Your’re the first person that I’ve had in here since my ex by the way y/n,” she starts off, pointing at the bed for you to sit in,” Your room was a guest room we’d use for our friends and this was our room. “ 

“ What happened to your ex ? “ you as casually and Rio makes a face at your question. 

“ Wait fuck I didn’t meant to intrude I am so-“ 

“ Baby it’s all good with me,” she assures you,” we broke up after ten years together because she wanted to explore other option in the world or whatever she fucking meant by that”. Least you know she’s single. 

“ Last time I heard about her, she was living in some town with her current girlfriend and their two cats. Which good for her I guess, I mean she was never the committed type when we were together, all I say is good fucking luck to her current gal or whatever,” she mumbles the last part while looking for a specific alcohol bottle for the two of you. The atmosphere room was pleaseant, Rio must have worked a lot on the room to make it as comfy as she could. 

“ You have any ex’s you wanna talk about y/n ? We only know the basics things about each other” Rio questions after finding the specific bottle of alcohol she was hiding for special occasions. She quickly finds her way onto her bed, placing herself on the right side of where you were sitting, as always leaving no space between the two of you. 

“ How strong is that bottle of alcohol in your hand?” You ask and rio smiles. 

This was gonna be fun. 

_________________________

“ You did not fucking steal Lilia’s jewelry from her cause she accidentally stole some of your food ?” You laugh as she tells the story. 

“ She was being petty with me for a tiny thing I did when we were living together y/n, and all I did was just give her a piece of her medicine is all” she shrugs then takes a big swig of the bottle infant of you both. It had been three hours since Rio had let you in her room and the both of you were talking about whatever as a way to get to know each other. An hour into this hangout session or whatever you both want to call it, rio had suggested you both cuddle with each other and in your tipsy mind you decided why it. 

On the inside, Rio appeared to you as quiet, funny and a little bit mysterious if you had to be honest with yourself. What you didn’t know was that she had been internally been freaking out since she found you here in the cottage. She felt bad kicking you out but it had been a couple of years since she’s had anyone here since Agatha. Rio hadn’t had anyone in the house since then and even if she did for a one night stand, she’d use the guest room to do it and not her own bedroom, making up all sorts of excuses as to why she didn’t have anyone in her own bedroom when she knew the real reason. 

She was afraid. 

Agatha had been her first relationship all those years ago when they met in Salem, built this house together from the ground up, shared so many happy memories together here then decided she wanted to leave Rio because she wanted to do more than just stay in Salem. She was other that woman but her insecurities got the best of her and she hasn’t had a meaningful relationship since. 

“ I don’t know how that would could fucking leave you when you look so fucking hot,” you blurt out of nowhere which takes Rio out of her thoughts. Well, at least she knows that you feel the same way. 

“ You think I’m hot ? “ Rio asks quietly enough for you to hear. 

“ The mysterious demeanor of yours, the hot ass outfit you had when you got here, and not to mention when I first met you in not to good circumstances you kind of made me blush so much” you explain while rubbing her arm. Her mind was going places as you were cuddling up next to her, yapping about how hot she was and then casually rubbing her arm as well.

Both of you were drunk and she wanted to test the waters and see how much she can get out of you, no harming trying to get any information out of you. 

“ How about you come sit on top of me while we talk then princess? “ She asks with a bit of a smile. 

You don’t think about it too much, Rio guiding you on her lap so you don’t accidentally do anything. 

“ Rio did I ever tell you that you look super nice from this angle , like really nice,” you giggle. It’s been years since anyone has said anything nice about her and she’ stumped with how to respond.

“ Can say the same thing about you sweet thing ,” the woman under you says in the most cool way, only eliciting a giggle from you and a confused face from her. 

“ Did you forget to flirt Rio? for a witch who’s been alive longer than I have , you sure don’t know how to flirt with someone when the opportunity arises, “ you say in a joking manner to the older woman. 

“ I might not know how to flirt but there is something else I can do babe,” she teases. 

“ Oh and what’s that honey?” You ask in a sweet tone. 

In an instant, Rio quickly changes positions so that she’s on top of you, pinning your arms above your head so that you don’t do anything with your hands. 

“ You look super pretty under me princess,” she holds your chin in place with one hand while other hand is still pinning you into the mattress, not that you’re complaining or anything. 

“ Just fucking kiss me Vidal,” you beg and you feel the other woman’s lips on yours in an instant. She forgot how good it felt to be in bed with someone she actually had some sort of attraction to. She can’t handle the way that you whine into the kiss, wondering what other pretty noises she can get out of you. 

“ God do you know how many times I fucked myself in this bed baby? We’ve barely known each other but your’re something special baby,” she tells you as she starts to kiss your neck, no shame in leaving marks all over your neck for anyone to see. The sound of your moans and whines while she marks your neck, Rio feeling you grind into her body to set any sort of friction and the feeling of her hands roaming your body make you never want to leave her bed anytime soon. 

“ Take this thing off of your body baby,” she says helping you get up,” I wanna see all of you”. You chose the right night to not wear a bra because the moment she sees that you had nothing underneath your shirt, Rio is on your tits. Sucking on your left nipple while tasting your other nipple with no mercy. 

“ Be good for your mistress while I suck on these titties babe,” she orders,” then maybe I’ll fuck you with my fingers, or you can grind on my thigh so I can see you fall apart above me”. 

“ Fingers! Please! I’ll be good for your mistress” you whine under her touch, you would let Rio let you do anything to you if it meant being pleasured by her . 

“ Good choice baby,” She says happily, her right hands going into your sleep shorts to feel just how wet you were for her. 

Still got it, she thinks to herself.

“ I didn’t even do much to you baby and your pussy is soaked,” she smirks and you moan as she continues to tease you. It won’t take long for you to cum with Rio teasing your pussy combined with her dirty talk. Rio wastes no time in taking off your shorts and underwear before she inserts two fingers into your wet pussy, groaning at the way her fingers go in easily. 

“ Maybe next time we do this you can let Mistress eat this pussy,” she says and you let out a long moan,” god just the way your finger are taking me just makes me want to make you cum over and over again”. 

It doesn’t take long for you to go over the edge with her fingers going at a fast pace, Rio taking in the sight before her. Praising you as she helps you down from your high, no shame in tasting yourself on her fingers, excited for the text time she might actually be able to taste the real thing from the source. 

“Brain feels floaty Rio ,” you mumble to the other woman as she brings you a bottle of water and a small rag to clean you off. You take the bottle with no arguments as she cleans you up. Rio helps you up a bit to help you into your shirt again, internally giggling as how cute you look at her. Looking at her like she was the only person on earth. She felt happy to be seen like that from someone after years of being alone. 

“ How you doing baby?” She asks and you mumble as she pulls you closer to her body. 

“ Fine,” you yawn ,” sleepy”. 

“ Okay baby,” she chuckles,” We can talk tomorrow about us”. 

“ I’d love that Rio,” you say before you fall asleep in her arms and Rio falls asleep not long after with a big smile on her face.

[firewasabeast]

Prompt—Buck sees Rocker kissing someone else and thinks Tommy cheated. This is how the twin thing is revealed.

Seething.

That was a good word for it.

Buck was seething at what he saw happening across from him at the farmer's market.

Two years together, just to throw it all away.

And for what? Some gray haired, bearded, too-tight shirt wearing, perfect smile-having, muscle man?

This was not someone from the 217, Buck was sure of that. He knew everyone at the 217. Had checked them all out to make sure they weren't a threat (which was something Tommy was never to know about, by the way).

No, this man was from somewhere else. And he was currently cuddling right up to his boyfriend, pulling him in for a kiss even though Tommy, his Tommy, was in the middle of taking a bite of a cinnamon roll.

Then they were laughing together while this mystery man wiped icing off of his lips. Because he'd just kissed Tommy! His Tommy!!!

His Tommy, who smiled a little different with this other guy. His Tommy, whose posture was somehow even straighter. Maybe he was more comfortable with this man. More confident.

Buck couldn't think about that, because all he could think about was the fact his fiancé was cheating on him with Mr. Sun-Kissed Santa!

He had half a mind to march right on over there and confront them. To bounce his ring right off of Tommy's forehead and tell him they were done.

But he stopped himself. Decided to wait. Wait until Tommy came home from “a basketball game with Eddie.”

*****

He heard Tommy's truck pull up in the driveway and quickly wiped the tears from his eyes. He didn't want Tommy to see him sad, he wanted Tommy to see him angry.

“We're back, Babe,” Tommy greeted as he walked in the door. “Victorious and with only one minor injury.” He walked over to the dining room table, where Buck was seated, and pressed a kiss to his head. “Eddie tripped over his own feet.”

“It was an attack from the other side!” Eddie yelled. “I'm getting a bandaid for my elbow.”

Buck was going to wait until Eddie was gone to confront Tommy. He was gonna be subtle about it, ask some questions until he backed Tommy into a corner.

He lasted 0.5 seconds.

“I can't believe you're cheating on me!” He yelled, looking up at a baffled Tommy.

Eddie, who hadn't made it to the guest bathroom yet, froze. “Yeah, I'm out,” he said, exiting the house with no concern for his injury.

“I'm... I'm what now?” Tommy asked.

“You don't have to pretend, Tommy,” Buck replied, standing and making his way to the bedroom. “I saw everything.”

Tommy followed closely behind him. “Well, could you tell me what you saw? Because I definitely didn't cheat on you, Evan.”

“Pft!” Buck huffed. “I went to the farmer's market today, Tommy, alone, because you said you already had plans with Eddie.”

“Okay? And?”

Buck walked into their closet, tugging a suitcase off the top shelf. “And I just want to know why you'd think it was a good idea to go to the same farmer's market I was going to be at?!” He came back into the room, shoving past Tommy as he plopped the suitcase onto the bed.

“I am so confused, Evan, I was playing basketball! With Eddie! You saw him!” Tommy paused. “Wait, you don't think I'm cheating on you with Eddie, do you?”

“No!” Buck exclaimed. “But you could have joined him for basketball after your little rendezvous.”

“Eddie came by here first, Evan! Left his car out front. How do you think he left just now?”

“W- Well, y- you... I don't know how you did it, but I do know that you were at the farmer's market kissing another man. An older man!”

Tommy shook his head, placing his hands on his hips. He opened his mouth to respond, then shut it back.

“Yeah, can't defend yourself, can you?”

“No, I just... are you sure it was a man?”

“Am I- are you serious?! Are you cheating on me with a woman too?!”

“No! No, I'm not cheating on you at all, Evan, I just... A man, huh?”

“Okay,” Buck held his hand up, “now I'm confused. What's happening? You don't even know who I caught you with?"

Tommy sighed. “Remember I mentioned having a brother to you a few times in the past?”

“Yeah?”

“And I said we weren't super close so I wasn't sure if you'd ever meet him?”

“Tommy, what does this have to do with anything? I don't care about your family drama right now!”

“Take a breath, Evan, and connect the dots.”

Buck breathed heavily through his nose as he glared at Tommy, thinking over the words being said to him.

After a few seconds, his expression softened. “Oh.”

Tommy nodded. “Oh.”

“You... You have a twin?”

“I have a twin.”

“And you never told me this before because...?”

“Because you'd want to-”

“I have to meet him!”

“meet him,” Tommy muttered.

“Tommy! Well, first of all,” he closed the distance between them, smacking a kiss against his lips, “congratulations for not cheating on me.”

Tommy's eyebrows furrowed. “Thank... you?”

“Second of all,” Buck continued, grabbing the suitcase and taking it back to the closet, “I have to meet Donny- that was his name, right?- now. No idea he was your twin. This makes everything far more interesting.”

“You know, I'm actually more interested in the whole “kissing a man” part because that asshole didn't say a word when I came out to him.”

“Maybe h- he didn't know yet!” Buck called back to him, shoving the suitcase back on the top shelf. He was smiling brightly when he returned. He pulled Tommy close, wrapping his arms around his waist. “Maybe he hadn't met his Tommy yet.”

“That's... weird, in so many ways, Evan.”

“No. It's. Not,” Buck replied, punctuating each word with a kiss. He squeezed Tommy close to him in a hug. “I knew you'd never do something like that. So out of character for you.”

“Oh, you knew?” Tommy questioned sarcastically, even as ran his hands up and down Buck's back. “Is that why you were about to start packing to leave me? Because you knew I'd never cheat.”

“That's the past, let's let that go.” Buck patted Tommy's chest before leaving out of the bedroom.

Again, Tommy followed.

“You need to call your brother,” Buck said. “Have him come over for dinner.”

“Yeah, I don't think so.”

“Tommy.”

“Evan.”

Buck rolled his eyes, turning to Tommy. “He probably needs you. If he wasn't out when y- you were, it might be new to him and maybe h- he could use his, um, little?”

“Older, by ten minutes.”

Buck lit up even more. “He could use his older brother right now.”

Tommy closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and then groaned. “Fine. I'll call him.”

“Excellent!”

“But before I do that, I'm gonna need you to call Eddie and let him know I'm not cheating on you before he decides to come back and slash all my tires on your behalf.”

Buck winced. “He would do that, wouldn't he?”

Tommy nodded, moving toward Buck to reach into his pocket and pull out his phone. “Yeah, he would.”

[rothpie]

❝FIDELITY❞ |part17

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

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

Warnings: nothing

previous - next

When Rafe parked his car in front of your house, his hands froze on the steering wheel. Thoughts were spiraling in his head, but he couldn’t seem to grab hold of any of them. He was tense. Anger, uncertainty, curiosity—and just a flicker of hope. All of it was screaming at him, like a chorus of emotions refusing to shut the hell up.

He’d been thinking about this day for weeks. He had gone over every possible move, replayed this moment in his mind a million times. He wanted to look better than his best. Even if he didn’t say the words out loud, he wanted to be someone worthy of Liliana.

Someone who deserved to be her father.

And when the door opened, it was you standing there. Just a plain grey T-shirt on, messy hair, eyes tired and unreadable. You leaned against the doorframe, looking straight at him sitting in the car.

For a second, Rafe felt like he was thrown into the past. He still wasn’t used to being near you. Hell, he had forgotten how to breathe when you texted him. And now—now you were right there, just a few steps away on the damn porch.

For a heartbeat, just one, Rafe imagined you running to him as soon as he got out of the car. Just like old times.

You’d plant a kiss on his cheek, jump into his arms, laugh and say how excited you were to see him again, making him laugh too.

But those days were gone. You weren’t going to run into his arms, and he wasn’t going to kiss you like before. This wasn’t five years ago. You were who you are now. And he—he was whatever was left of himself after you. Half of what he used to be.

Still, Rafe stepped out of the car, his daydream fading. Just walking toward you felt like the universe was cutting him some slack for once. He took a deep breath, trying—and failing—to shake the tension in his chest.

“Hey. You’re here,” you said, not taking your eyes off him.

“Yeah,” Rafe nodded slightly. “Sorry I’m a bit late.”

He didn’t mean to be. He had nearly lost it back at home, overwhelmed by nerves. He hadn't even realized how much time had passed.

“It’s fine,” you said automatically, brushing off your hand and giving a little shrug.

Rafe ran a hand through his hair, like he was trying to talk himself into believing this was real. “I had to stop by the gas station and—”

“Rafe.” Your voice was soft but firm. You were looking him right in the eyes. “It’s okay.”

Rafe used to be able to read you with just a glance. But now? Now he couldn’t read shit. And that scared him. A little panic crept in—what if you were already over this? What if you suddenly decided to call the whole thing off?

Not gonna lie—he’d drop to his knees and beg if that’s what it took. He would. He wouldn’t even hesitate. He wasn’t curious about the life he’d missed, because he already knew it would hurt. Hearing it, knowing he hadn’t been there—it would wreck him. 

But this was about Liliana.

They didn’t even know each other yet, but Rafe already felt like she was part of him. And that was enough.

He couldn’t fix the past. God, how he wished he could. But time didn’t work like that. He couldn’t rewind. So he wanted the rest of it—the time still left.

He wanted that one shot to make up for everything he missed.

He didn’t know if things would ever be right between you two. As co-parents, or... anything else. But with Liliana? He knew he could get it right.

More than that—he wanted to.

“I’m glad you came,” you said finally. “I told Liliana a bit, but… I don’t know how she’ll react.” A small smile played on your lips.

And with those words, Rafe felt like he could breathe again. Knowing you hadn’t given up, knowing there was still space for him—it gave him something solid to hold on to.

Maybe, if the roles were reversed, he wouldn’t have been able to do the same. But you were doing it. And he knew—it wasn’t for him.

It was for Liliana.

“I get it,” Rafe said. Just two words, but they scraped out of his throat like they weighed a ton. His voice carried all the uncertainty in him. All he had left was hope.

“You look nervous,” you said, stepping back slightly until your back touched the door. You cleared your throat, eyes studying him. Rafe shifted when he felt your gaze sweep over him with something almost like concern.

“I am nervous. As fuck,” Rafe said, shaking his head slowly. His eyes dropped to the ground for a moment. He didn’t want to lie or play it cool. He didn’t want to lie to you. He was nervous. Scared. He didn’t even know what the hell he was doing. He couldn’t even control his damn breathing. But there was this tiny part of him that was... excited too.

While the anxiety was practically buzzing through his whole body, he heard your laugh. You licked your lips and looked slightly over your shoulder, as if checking for something even though there was nothing there.

“It’s gonna be okay,” you said in a calm, reassuring tone. Of course you didn’t want both sides to be on edge for this first meeting. That would be a disaster.

“I hope so,” Rafe replied, his voice lower now. Even though you were trying to comfort him, it wasn’t going to fix everything. Not today.

“Yeah. Trust me,” you added. Your voice was soft, but there was something underneath it. Something you were trying to hold back.

Rafe hesitated to meet your eyes. Really, he did. Because—because it felt like you were looking at him with pity. And he couldn’t handle that. 

He couldn’t look at you and see the disappointment he’d caused staring back at him.

The way he had always felt about you—how deeply, how fucking clearly—was right there, in plain sight. And now?

Now it was hard to look at you without seeing what he’d broken.

He didn’t want to do this. 

Didn’t want to look at you.

“Where is she now?” Rafe asked abruptly, trying to shake off his nerves. He wanted things to move quickly. He just wanted to get rid of the anxiety and meet his daughter.

“She’s inside.” You tilted your head, pointing behind the door.

Rafe hesitated. He almost didn’t ask, but his mouth betrayed him. “With him?”

You nodded. With a deep sigh, you looked away from him, turning your gaze toward the garden. “Yeah…”

Of course.

How the hell had this even started?

He held back from saying something he’d regret. You weren’t his, and he had no right to say anything, but—thinking of his daughter clinging to JJ’s legs and giggling with him stirred something ugly in his chest.

And also—seriously, what the hell? You and him? A kook and a pogue? Sure, that label had basically expired years ago, but still—how? You two were nothing alike. Different vibes, different scenes, different personalities. Everything. And now what—living in the same house? You, Liliana, and JJ?

It felt like a joke.

No, he wasn’t going to say any of that out loud. He couldn’t risk the chance you were giving him—but really? Out of everyone in the goddamn world, you picked him?

Rafe tilted his head slightly. His brows furrowed but he quickly recovered. He avoided any expression that would give away how he felt, and kept his tone flat—but his voice came out way too suggestive. “So—You and JJ, hmm?”

He cursed himself the second he heard his own tone. Clearing his throat, he adjusted his posture.

Your eyes flicked to him. You studied him for a beat, then pursed your lips. “Me and JJ what?”

No way your brain had turned to mush over the years. You were either playing dumb, or you were doing this on purpose—to mess with him.

Rafe cleared his throat again. He took a step back, glancing at the other car parked in the yard—probably the one you both used. Then his eyes landed on the two surfboards propped by the door. The sight of JJ being that settled in made his stomach churn. His eyes met yours again, voice low. “I mean... I don’t get it. When did it happen? How or where…”

Even just outside, there were traces of JJ everywhere—he didn’t want to imagine what the inside of the house looked like. Then again, he’d seen it listed as an Airbnb before, so maybe there wasn’t much to see.

But what about your place in the city?

Were JJ’s things on the coffee table? His jackets hanging by the door? Were there pictures of you, Liliana, and him smiling on the walls?

His brain needed to just stop.

This wasn’t about you. Or JJ. It was about Liliana. And still— 

Shit. Fuck this.

“Rafe,” you said with a light laugh, but your tone hinted at warning. You shook your head. “No—”

Rafe didn’t let you finish. He cut you off fast. Unlike you, he wasn’t laughing. He looked serious. “I mean if Liliana sees him as her dad, and—”

“We’re not together,” you interrupted. Your voice was calm, but that alone eased something in Rafe’s chest.

He blinked. “What?”

You shrugged like it was no big deal. “We’re not together. I don’t have time to explain every second of it, but he helped me with everything. Still does.”

Rafe’s brows pulled together. He clearly couldn’t wrap his head around it. Running a hand through his hair, he shut his eyes for a second. “I just... I’m having a hard time understanding.”

“We’re supporting each other, that’s all,” you said simply.

Rafe’s voice came out almost bitter. “Like... fuck buddies?”

He hated himself for saying it. He shouldn’t have said it. He wasn’t here for this. How many times did he have to remind himself?

But damn it—he is curious.

You scrunched your face. Your eyes darted away as you shifted your weight, moving away from the doorframe. “Oh my God, Rafe, no.”

“I don’t get it.” Rafe started, but couldn’t finish. He cut himself off.

If it was nothing—then why the hell is JJ still here?

You shook your head, your voice barely a whisper. “It’s not that complicated.”

“So you’re single?” Rafe asked, trying to sound neutral—but the unease in his voice gave him away. You looked at him. For a moment, Rafe was sure you were going to throw him out. That this was it. No more chance to meet Liliana. No second chance, period.

Nice going, Rafe Cameron. Can’t even handle a five-minute doorstep conversation without fucking it up.

“Rafe,” you warned.

Rafe quickly straightened up. His tone more explanatory now. “It was just a question. I was curious.”

“Don’t be.” You said it with tired finality.

“Okay.” Rafe nodded and stepped back slightly, taking a deep breath. “By the way—I talked to my dad.”

Your eyes locked on him. Your expression tightened. Brows rose. “You did?” Your tone sounded almost surprised, like you hadn’t really expected him to go through with it.

“I did. Didn’t go great,” Rafe said with a small laugh, though it barely masked the sting. Honestly, it had gone to shit. He wasn’t even planning to talk to his dad again for a while. “If—like, I don’t know if it’ll happen, but if he ever tries to contact you, can you let me know?”

“Of course,” you said without hesitation. Rafe didn’t push it, but he still wanted to say it.

He took a deep breath. Talking about this stuff had always been hard, but with you, it still felt… easy. Like when you used to talk back then. When you were younger. “I told him not to. Just once in his life, I hope he actually listens.”

You were just about to speak, your mouth half-open, when the inner door creaked open and JJ stepped out. Quietly, but with a kind of weight to his presence. His eyes quickly scanned the both of you, then locked onto Rafe’s face. There was something sharp in his expression—like he was approaching prey, calm but deadly. You could’ve sworn he almost hated him.

He moved toward you, planting himself at your side with a protective air. Something flickered in Rafe at the sight. You folded your arms over your chest as the two locked eyes—neither of them even blinked.

JJ placed a possessive hand on your back and nodded at Rafe, then offered a hand. “Hey.” 

His voice was clipped, hard. Rafe hadn’t expected anything softer anyway. Rafe’s eyes dropped briefly to JJ’s hand on your back, then met yours. 

Again—hadn’t you said there was nothing going on between you two? 

Because this shit didn’t look like nothing.

The way you leaned into his touch—fuck, it was so you and Rafe. Like five years ago. And seeing that—Rafe didn’t even want to think about it.

Watching something he’d lost—something he thought was his once—now standing right in front of him made his stomach twist. He was already on edge, and the sight of you two like that? It was the goddamn cherry on top.

“Hi,” Rafe said shortly. He shook JJ’s hand, not flinching even when the grip came in tighter than necessary. They’d never liked each other, and clearly, five years hadn’t changed shit. Rafe still hated him. 

Only now, he had a reason. 

You. 

You, standing too close to him. That was reason enough to hate the bastard.

“How is she?” Rafe asked, voice low, glancing briefly at the door.

“She’s waiting,” JJ said, eyes never leaving Rafe’s face. Like he was still evaluating if the guy could be trusted.

“Sorry about the beach,” Rafe muttered, eyes on JJ. He wasn’t really sorry about the attitude—just about the fact that it happened in front of Liliana. But seeing his daughter with *him*— 

Yeah, he hadn’t expected that. He’d made assumptions.  All his assumptions had included you alone. 

Just you and Liliana. 

Not a single one of those imagined JJ Fucking Maybank in the picture. Not even once.

“Same,” JJ replied, shrugging. Tone flat, uninterested. 

They were clearly tolerating each other just for Liliana’s sake. That was all this was. Toleration. And even that felt like too much for them.

Rafe looked between the two of you. There was still something unspoken hanging in the air. A tension he couldn’t place, but desperately wanted to understand. 

But not now. 

Now wasn’t the time. 

There was something more important at stake.

“Okay,” you finally said, breaking the tension. “If you’re both ready—”

“Of course,” JJ and Rafe said at the same time.

Rafe watched you nod and head toward the door. JJ stepped aside, like he was silently telling Rafe to go in first.

When Rafe stepped inside behind you, Liliana was standing by the window in the corner of the living room. She’d dropped the toy book in her hand and was now staring at the door. Rafe’s entrance felt like it sucked all the air out of the room. 

Heavy.  Thick.  Silent.

He isn't just nervous. He is scared. 

Completely fucking terrified.

You and Rafe walked a few steps ahead while JJ came in behind and closed the door.

You looked at Liliana, then turned to Rafe, giving him a small nod. 

“Rafe, this is… Liliana.”

Rafe could hear the pounding of his own heart. The only other sound was the cartoon still playing faintly on the TV. He took a few steps in, but didn’t get too close. His face was unreadable, carefully composed. 

Was it the usual mask he wore with strangers? 

Or was it exhaustion—leftover from everything that had happened with you? 

Hard to tell. 

But one thing was clear: he was trying hard to keep the fear down.

Liliana didn’t flinch. Her eyes scanned Rafe’s face with sharp, almost adult-like attention. 

He looked different than she expected. 

Younger. 

Maybe softer. 

But there was something in his eyes… something guarded, watchful. Like yours.

And God—she looked just like you. 

So much like you. 

Just as beautiful.

“Hi,” Rafe said, voice cracking slightly but controlled. “You must be Liliana.”

He was about to fucking shit himself. She’s just a little girl. Calm the fuck down.

Liliana tilted her head slightly, eyes narrowing. “You’re Rafe.”

A flicker of a smile tugged at Rafe’s lips.  His heart somehow picked up speed. 

She knew him.  She knew his name. 

That alone nearly knocked the breath out of him.

He nodded quickly, a little too eagerly. “Yeah, I’m Rafe.”

“Mom told me about you,” Liliana said, her voice surprisingly calm. “Is it true you live in space? You fly from planet to planet?”

You cleared your throat, clearly trying to ease the tension. “Liliana, Rafe came here tonight to meet you. But if you don’t feel comfortable—”

“No,” Liliana said quickly. Her eyes stayed on Rafe. “I can meet him.”

Rafe didn’t know what to feel about the things you’d told her. Explaining why a father wasn’t around must’ve been hell.

He gave a small nod. “Thank you.”

He wanted to hug her.  God, he wanted to.  But it was too soon.

Liliana was silent for a moment. Then, with the unfiltered bluntness only a child could have, she asked: 

“Are you my dad?”

Rafe looked at you, waiting for confirmation. 

Then his eyes flicked to JJ, who was standing right beside you. JJ took a long breath and looked away.

You gave Rafe a small nod, then turned back to Liliana, watching closely for her reaction.

“Yes,” Rafe said simply. 

It was short, but all those rehearsed lines he’d practiced in front of a mirror? 

Gone. 

All of it. 

Just—gone.

Liliana shifted in place. Then she hopped forward and climbed onto the couch. Rafe’s mouth twitched at the corners as he watched her toss her baby hair back like it was nothing.

She really was his daughter.

"Okay..." Liliana spoke while swinging her legs off the edge of the couch. "Are you gonna go back to space again?"

Rafe shifted in his seat almost instantly. His throat went dry. His expression didn’t change, but his eyes flicked over to you. He wanted to answer—but he waited for your cue.

“Lily,” Bella said gently, but with a warning tone. “What happened to being kind?”

“I was just—” Liliana shrugged, then turned back to Rafe. “Are you a liar?”

Rafe held her gaze and replied, “Well—lying’s bad. And my mission in space is over. No more space.”

Liliana studied him for a moment in silence. Then she slid off the couch, picked her toy book off the floor, sat back on the edge of the cushion, and turned her face back to the window. “We’ll see,” she murmured. “What did you even go for in the first place?”

For the first time, Rafe swallowed hard. He felt like he was being put on trial for something long closed. But the kid was right… her eyes said more than her words ever could.

Why had he even left in the first place? Why the hell did he screw it all up?

“I don’t even know,” he said quietly.

“Thank God. Finally,” Cleo said with an exaggerated sigh.

There was nothing like seeing your best friend after days apart. You smiled wide, lifting your arms as you moved toward her.

Cleo’s eyes lit up. She pulled you into a hug, her hands rubbing your back supportively. Her arms were tight around you.

“Girl, do you even know how much I missed you?”

You pulled back and lowered your head slightly, smiling at her. Ever since Cleo and Pope got married, you hadn’t had many chances to see her. Sure, you could have made time, but with everything going on with JJ, it all kind of fell apart.

“I’m sorry… I know.”

Cleo stepped back. Her gaze flicked to JJ for a split second, but she sighed and spoke to you instead. “I thought you went into hiding or something. You were completely off the radar.”

“I know,” you said with a soft laugh. “The last few days… have been rough.”

Fighting was exhausting. Of course it was. You wished none of it had happened—but at the same time, maybe it was for the best. At least now, you both stopped pretending. You were actually talking to each other again.

“And thank God, because you look amazing right now,” Cleo said, touching your arm and winking. You rolled your eyes, about to respond, when Pope suddenly jumped in, practically speed-walking in with a plate that was clearly hot.

“Hey!” he called out with a grin. He nearly ran. He set the plate on the table, then quickly pulled his hands back and blew on his fingertips.

“Hi!,” you said, fighting a laugh at his expression.

Pope winked. Then he leaned down and kissed his wife on the cheek—and you couldn’t help the tiny pang of envy that fluttered in your chest. When you heard Cleo giggle, you smiled too. Marriage really did suit them. “Thanks for coming, both of you. We really missed you guys,” Pope said warmly, slipping an arm around Cleo’s waist.

You turned when you heard JJ chuckle. He was lounging comfortably on the couch, head turned toward your group, with a grin that wasn’t exactly friendly—more like smug.

JJ raised an eyebrow. “So what you’re saying is... you’re tired of spending time with your wife?”

You sighed. God, JJ…

“What—JJ! That’s not what I meant. Cleo—come on, no!” Pope stammered, clearly panicking.

JJ just shrugged and laughed. Sarcastic as hell—but also… familiar. You looked at him with a mix of amusement and disbelief.

Cleo rolled her eyes and leaned into Pope with a possessive smirk. As if to make a point, she kissed his cheek and said, “Stop talking shit about my husband. Maybe start by looking in the mirror, tough guy.”

“God, the two of you are unbearable now. You were way more tolerable when you were just dating,” JJ muttered as he pushed himself up from the couch and walked over.

You turned toward him, taking a deep breath as he stepped beside you. “Enough, JJ,” you said, smiling despite your warning tone.

JJ gave you an innocent smile. When his eyes locked with yours, he stepped a little closer. “What? I didn’t even say anything,” he said with a shrug.

You rolled your eyes at him and looked away. He always had to be like this—sarcastic, smug. But somehow… it was the exact kind of behavior you’d grown to love. “Anyway, did you turn on the channel Lily wanted?”

JJ nodded. “Even put her favorite snacks in front of her.”

“Thank you,” you said quickly. You hadn’t even asked—or thought to ask—but he’d already taken care of it. It warmed something in your chest. You didn’t know how he could read you so well. Not just you—Liliana too.

Because whenever you needed something, JJ was there. He always had been. And just like he’d always been there for you, now he was there for Liliana too.

You were grateful. You’d always be grateful. But even while you looked into his eyes, that gnawing guilt crept in. Because the way you felt about him… wasn’t the way a friend was supposed to feel.

You weren’t supposed to love your friend like this. You were supposed to love him like family, like someone you could count on—not like someone you wanted to spend the entire day wrapped up in.

You weren’t supposed to forget all your problems when he held you. You weren’t supposed to lose track of time, lose track of your own words, just watching him talk. You weren’t supposed to wait at the door hoping he’d come back after every fight. Or look into his eyes and drift away in your thoughts like you were doing now.

“Of course,” JJ said, barely above a whisper. Even with your eyes locked on him, he didn’t look away. You wondered what he was thinking. You wished you could read his mind. You wanted to talk about that night—what it meant to him, why he really did it…

The clatter of silverware hitting the table snapped you out of it like a jolt. You broke eye contact with JJ and turned forward, playing it off like nothing happened. After Pope placed the final fork, he and Cleo sat down across from you both. Soft smiles lingered on their faces.

The music playing in the background was light and lovely. You were all clearly happy—it wasn’t hard to tell. You were with your friends, and this moment… it was one of those you’d probably look back on someday. One of a thousand little memories.

“By the way—the food looks amazing. I seriously can’t wait to dig in,” you said, picking up your fork. And you meant it—it really did look incredible.

Cleo let out a small squeal and covered part of her face with one hand. “Stop! You’re embarrassing me. I worked so hard on this.”

But then, you caught the look Pope gave her from beside her—one brow raised, his head turning slowly with a very smug grin. “I literally made everything. Cleo was watching reality show whole time.”

“What?! What a lie!” Cleo burst out laughing. She pouted and stabbed at her food with her fork, refusing to look at him.

Pope just shook his head with a chuckle, clearly accepting his fate.

I was actually enjoying being here—at this time, in this place, with these people. Even if I tried not to look at the guy standing next to me, something inside me kept screaming look at him. Everything was because of him, wasn’t it?

He gave you a life you couldn’t have fought for, a friendship you didn’t know you needed. You could’ve never imagined feeling this kind of peace. Even if you had tried, you wouldn’t have found it. But still—if they gave you the choice, you’d pick this again.

Sure, you had your share of shitty days. But still—yeah, you wouldn’t trade it.

"Whoever made this—seriously, it tastes amazing. I’m definitely finishing every plate," JJ said with a small smile. It was the first time since he walked into this house that he dropped his usual sarcasm and gave a real compliment.

Cleo narrowed her eyes at me. “You couldn’t’ve missed it that much. You literally just ate.”

I turned my head toward JJ after Cleo’s comment—he suddenly couldn’t swallow the bite in his mouth. He locked eyes with Cleo, forced himself to swallow, then took a sip of water. “Wait, what do you mean?” I asked, turning to him.

Before JJ could even say a word, Cleo jumped in fast. She leaned forward. “What do you mean what do you mean? He stayed here. I cooked, so... duh.” She rolled her eyes at JJ for a second before turning her gaze back to me.

So... he’d been here. Here. For three days. At Cleo and Pope’s house.

Our friends house.

I turned fully to JJ. He had gotten comfortable, leaning in like he belonged there. You listened closely to his breathing.

“You were here?” you asked him, disbelief in your voice.

You didn’t know what to think. You— you thought he was staying at someone else’s house. Someone else, like— maybe a woman’s. You didn’t know, and—

Fuck. Just stop.

JJ held his head high. “Yeah.” His voice was steady. Not a trace of his usual smirk. In fact, he looked you straight in the eye like he wanted to prove something. Like, for a second, he forgot Cleo and Pope were even there.

“Three days?” The shock in your voice was obvious. He wasn’t giving you what you wanted. You were hinting, subtly asking where he’d been, but he just casually answered. Didn’t even try to meet you halfway. And all you really wanted was for him to say it out loud.

“Yes,” JJ said again.

Before you even fully realized it, something inside you felt lighter. Like a cold rush washed over your body. Like— you felt relieved.

“Oh… okay.” That’s all you said. Your eyebrows lifted, and you stared at the napkin in front of you. What you were feeling was definitely relief. He didn’t owe you anything. He didn’t have to tell you anything—and he hadn’t. But you had still wondered. God, you had wondered so damn much.

Just the thought of him touching someone else, sleeping in the same bed as another woman for three whole days— it ate you alive. You couldn’t even exist inside your own home. Your thoughts were screaming to get out of your head.

You had even thought about cornering him and forcing the truth out of him. You were that angry. So pissed off at the idea that he could just come home from someone else’s bed and kiss you like nothing happened— like it was no big deal.

Of course, you didn’t say anything to him. Who were you, really? There was no you and him. You couldn’t ask questions—but you couldn’t silence your thoughts either.

And now, after all the days you spent seething with jealousy, the truth being the complete opposite left you feeling like a brand new fucking baby. Like your nerves had been surgically removed.

“What did you think?” JJ’s voice was teasing. You blinked out of your thoughts and looked up at him. He was leaning on the chair with one arm, watching you with that half-smirk.

You hesitated for a second. You were about to shrug and change the subject, but suddenly you realized how stupid that would be. “When I said you might be staying at someone else’s house… you didn’t say no.” Your tone was sharper than you meant it to be. It almost sounded like you were accusing him. And JJ’s lips curved into an even bigger smirk.

He reached up to scratch his cheek, trying to hide that dumb grin. As if he could. It was so obvious. So infuriating. JJ parted his lips and spoke clearly: “When you implied I was at another woman’s place. Let’s get that straight.” He reached for his water and took another sip.

You tried to ignore Cleo and Pope watching from across the table with wide, curious eyes. Especially Cleo’s. She looked like she was watching a rom-com play out live. You swallowed hard. Shook your head and shrugged. “What difference does it make? I asked, and you didn’t say anything. So… I just assumed.”

You were almost stammering. Your voice sounded unsure, weak.

You felt cornered. Like this asshole was playing with you the way a cat plays with a mouse. Drawing it out on purpose, watching you squirm. And he was winning. You weren’t ever going to say you were jealous. Even if he asked, you already knew the royal answer: Deny, deny, deny.

JJ leaned in closer. The smugness disappeared from his lips, replaced with something quieter, something more serious. “I wasn’t focused on that at the time. It wasn’t my priority.” His voice was calm now. He looked me right in the eyes. I couldn’t look away. I didn’t want to.

“Huh? What was your priority?”

The moment between you was shattered by Cleo’s excited voice. Her eyebrows were raised high. She was still eating from her plate like she was watching the best scene in a movie.

JJ’s eyes lingered on you a moment longer before he finally turned to Cleo. He straightened up and leaned back into the chair again. Thank God. Because the second he got too close, you totally lost your balance.

“I wanted to fix things between us and—”

Cleo cut him off, fast. Her voice was protective, almost fierce. 

“And hopefully to beg for forgiveness. Because when I kicked you out, I clearly told you that’s exactly what you should do.”

You knew she loved both of you, but you liked that she was more protective of you when it came to JJ. Even after all these years, she kept reminding you—probably for the millionth time—that your friendship wasn’t just based on JJ.

“Cleo,” Pope warned gently, nudging his wife’s arm.

Cleo shrugged. “What? If you had pulled that shit, it’d take me years to forgive you. Honestly, the fact that they’re even sitting next to each other right now? That’s a damn miracle.”

Sure, it wouldn’t be fair to erase everything that happened over the years just like that. But still—you both knew who had really messed up. And because you understood why it happened, you weren't going to drag it out. If it were you, if you had to lose both JJ and Liliana at once? You’d lose your mind too.

“But they’re not us,” Pope said softly.

Cleo rolled her eyes. “What’s the difference, really?” she replied, stubborn but affectionate.

“We’re married. And they’re like... roommates. Or best friends. Or whatever,” Pope said.

Wow. That was your definition of it? Just—wow. Your lips curved despite yourself. Roommates or best friends. That was so you and JJ. Nailed it. And yet, hearing it said out loud…

“Sure,” Cleo said with a smile—but there was something else underneath her voice. Then she added, lowering her tone but keeping the sarcasm, 

“I don’t remember us ever making out when we were just friends—”

Pope panicked. His voice jumped an octave. “Cake! There’s cake in the oven!”

You sighed. “Oh my God…”

So JJ had told them everything, huh? When your eyes flicked over to him, his brows were raised, mouth slightly open. Even he hadn’t seen that one coming. When he turned to you, maybe about to explain, you quickly looked away and took a deep breath.

“Lily met Rafe today,” you blurted out. No thought behind it. You hadn’t even talked about the kiss yourselves yet. And this was definitely not the time or the place. You could’ve told them, eventually. But maybe after talking it through with JJ first. Whatever—fuck it.

Cleo whipped around to you, totally caught off guard. She gave you her full attention, like she’d instantly forgotten whatever she'd just said. 

“Sorry, what?”

You nodded, kind of grateful the tension had shifted elsewhere. 

“Yeah. They met. It was a decision JJ and I made. And... it was fine.” You glanced over at him as you said it. You were thankful for this little detour in the conversation.

“Yeah. But she still loves me more,” JJ chimed in, wearing that familiar grin. He still looked a little tense—his body gave it away—as he hesitated, eyes on you.

“She’ll always love you more. You’ve been in her life for five years.” 

You looked at him. The idea that Lily might love JJ less was absurd. His place in her heart was solid.

JJ tilted his head, a soft smile tugging at his lips. The tension that had been building between you seemed to melt away with that one innocent statement. No matter what happened, you never doubted JJ’s love for Liliana.

You nodded, a strange peace settling inside you. 

“Of course.”

And once again, the moment between you was interrupted by Cleo. 

“That’s so wifey and hubby thing—”

Your eyes widened. And clearly, you weren’t the only one reacting. Pope jumped up from his seat like a switch had been flipped. His voice was firm, almost like he wanted to physically cover her mouth. 

“Cleo. Can you help me take the cake out?”

Cleo just shrugged. She still looked like she wanted to stay and watch whatever this was unfolding in front of her. 

“You do know you can handle that on your own, babe—”

That was cute. But still, when she said stuff like that, you couldn’t help blushing.

Pope tried again, more politely. 

“Please.” 

Cleo sighed.  “Okay.”

As the two of them left the room, a weird panic settled in your chest. You were alone at the table now. Part of you wanted to thank Pope, and the other part wanted to drag him back by the collar. You had no idea what to do. You were just... anxious. And he was still looking at you.

JJ was the first to speak, his eyes still on you. 

“We didn’t really get to talk today.”

That was a lie. You’d talked a lot. Just… not about each other. But even so—what else was left to say?

About what? The fact that he’d been staying at Cleo and Pope’s for days? The kiss? Rafe?

You just nodded, silently agreeing. Was it always going to be this hard? You saw this man every day, and still the tension between you was unbearable.

JJ paused, then said, “Sorry about Cleo. You know how she is.”

You smiled and nodded quickly. After five years, you were more than used to her. 

“Oh—I know.”

She was blunt, and you didn’t mind it. She was your best friend. And even if she said things a bit too directly sometimes, you loved her for it. She’d also brought one of your lingering doubts into the open today—and helped ease it.

Also—she wasn’t exactly subtle about her little hints about the two of you. Not that you hadn’t noticed.

JJ spoke hesitantly, his voice low. 

“And I’m sorry for telling them about the kiss too. I was... at my lowest, and you know how every time I try to fix things, I just fuck everything up.” 

His hand slipped through his hair, eyes falling to the floor. 

“I couldn’t think straight. I asked them for advice instead.”

He wasn’t even looking at you. 

You shook your head quickly. You didn’t want to stay mad at him anymore. You didn’t want to lose what you had. 

So you acted fast. 

“Okay.”

It really wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

JJ kept going like he hadn’t even heard you. His eyes stayed down, fingers fidgeting anxiously. He looked like he was barely holding it together. 

“That’s why it all just spilled out. I didn’t mean to say anything. I swear, I wouldn’t have told anyone.”

“I know,” you said quietly. 

You knew JJ. 

If there was any malice in him, he would’ve shown it years ago.

Wasn’t he the one who drove two hours just to be there when you had a miscarriage scare? 

The one who stayed with you so you wouldn’t be alone? 

The one who cheered you up on the beach when Rafe didn’t want Liliana? 

The one who reminded you your body is yours, and no one else gets to claim it?

Yeah. 

That was JJ.  He was always behind you. Beside you. Never against you. You couldn’t imagine him doing anything to intentionally hurt you.  Just like you knew you couldn’t ever do that to him either. “It’s just… we haven’t even talked about what happened and—”

JJ cut you off before you could finish. His hands went up like he was surrendering, eyes shutting tight like he couldn’t handle the weight of it. “I know… We can talk when we get home, or whenever you’re ready. I’m sorry.” 

He dipped his head. One hand rubbed at his forehead, still not looking at you—just sitting there, fully accepting he’d messed up.

Your gaze flicked toward the hallway where Cleo and Pope had disappeared. It was quiet. From the look of the empty room, you could tell no one was around.

Honestly, you were glad they left you two alone for a bit. And Pope trying to awkwardly save the moment was kind of funny. 

Still… it was a little embarrassing how all this was playing out right in front of them.

You whipped your head toward JJ like lightning. Your lips moved before you could even think. A small, crooked smile tugged at the corner. “They won’t be back for a while… you know.” 

There was no one around, but you still kept your voice low, like it was meant just for him.JJ dropped his hand from his forehead and slowly raised his head. His eyes widened. 

He glanced at the door Cleo and Pope had walked through, mouth opening, closing, then opening again. 

He sat up straighter, staring at you like what you’d just said was the weirdest thing in the world. 

“Now—you wanna talk about it now?” 

JJ nearly stammered, but reeled it in last second, clearing his throat. You shrugged. You were fighting not to look at his lips, not to let your brain wander. But they looked… distracting. 

Your mind drifted—briefly—back to that kiss, and you caught yourself. Your eyes were already halfway there. 

“I mean… only if you want to.” You turned your head to the side. Looking at him was getting harder by the second.

JJ nodded, barely breathing. “Yeah. Sure.”

An awkward silence settled between you. Neither of you knew who should start. You didn’t have much to explain, really. He kissed you. 

But… you kissed him back. 

If you didn’t want it, you could’ve pushed him away, slapped him even. But all you wanted was to pull him closer and kiss him again.Still, a part of you was terrified he regretted it. 

Knowing he might feel that way—it scared the hell out of you. But even more than that, the idea that it could ruin what you had—that it could wreck your friendship—was worse. 

Even if you were the only one feeling this way, there was still a little girl to think about. If JJ left… how the hell would you explain it to her? 

How would you survive missing him?The words were stuck in your throat, fighting each other like a storm. You wanted to talk. You really did. 

But right now, right in this moment, the idea of being with him was both the thing you wanted most… and the thing you feared the most.

Because if he didn’t want you back, It would be the end of a years-long friendship. 

Maybe you’d never fix it again. Feelings always had a way of screwing everything up.

Finally, JJ broke the silence. He straightened up, like he’d decided to just say it. “I felt like that in the moment. I just wanted the fighting to stop, and I wouldn’t normally do something like that but… everything was a mess. We were both pissed, and I kissed you without thinking. And I’m sorry for that. It just—”

He didn’t think you regretted it, did he? Because you didn’t. Not even close. You’d do it again right now if you could.

You didn’t even know what happened. Your mouth opened and the words flew out before your brain could stop them. “I kissed you back.”

JJ froze. His mouth stopped moving. “What?”

“If I didn’t want to keep going… I would’ve pushed you away.” You would’ve. You wouldn’t have let him stay near you for another second. But those stupid, intense feelings got the better of you. You couldn’t even think straight around him. 

Especially when he was close.

The shock was written all over JJ’s face. “What do you mean?”

This time, you spoke more gently. You couldn’t tell him the real reason you didn’t stop him. Not while he still saw you as just a friend.“We weren’t in a good place. Emotionally, I mean. We were both angry, and—look, you haven’t been with anyone in almost a year, and I haven’t… not since Liliana was born.”

JJ jumped in fast, nervous. “I haven’t touched anyone either. I mean—we’re in the same boat.”

The confession had been sitting on your chest the whole time. He always came back late from dates. So you just assumed—like, really, you just assumed. 

You never actually asked, but still… 

Had there really never been anyone? Why not? 

Anyone else in his position would’ve slept with a dozen girls by now, maybe had a string of flings. 

Especially with JJ—considering his status on the island—you figured once he went to the mainland, his options would multiply. 

But hearing the opposite? That was… kind of flattering? Maybe. You weren’t sure. But God, it made you happy. How could it not? 

Knowing there hadn’t been someone else—that was oddly satisfying.

Your lips tugged up for a second before you caught yourself and shook your head. “Oh—so it was like, a dry spell thing? I don’t know. Maybe it was just something we *both* needed in the moment and… it kinda just happened.” 

You kept your voice low. You had no idea what you were even trying to say, especially after that confession. Honestly, all you wanted to do was pull him in and kiss him again.

JJ let out a crooked grin. “So basically, I helped... defuse the situation. That what you're saying?”

Your eyebrows lifted. A small chuckle slipped out as you leaned back. “So what—you’re saying we should do it every time we fight?” 

You joked, watching the way his expression instantly panicked—pure delight lit up inside you.

JJ squirmed in his seat, throwing his hands up like he was ready to defend himself. “No—like—I mean—that’s not what I meant, but—”

You couldn’t help it. You burst into laughter. The way he freaked out—it was… adorable. Genuinely adorable. After a beat, you cut him off, pretending to be serious.“I’m messing with you.”You played with your tone—half teasing, half gentle. 

He watched your reaction, relief spreading across his face with a hint of surprise. But you didn’t stop. 

This time, your voice came out more serious. Or at least, trying to sound serious. Even you couldn’t tell anymore. “But I mean… if you’re offering—”

His surprise melted into something giddy. JJ caught your bluff immediately. He leaned in, eyes lighting up with excitement. “Yeah. Yeah, I mean—we could try it again sometime. Don’t know if we’ll fight again, but…”

You nodded, smiling. You liked this game you were playing with him. Especially watching him stumble over his words and avoid eye contact like that— “Yeah, maybe… if we do.” You gave him your approval with a grin that was hard to contain.

“Yeah… maybe.” JJ ran a hand through his hair, pausing for a second before locking eyes with you. “It was nice, by the way.”

You froze. You stared at him for a moment, trying to figure out if he’d actually said that. Once you realized he meant it, you spoke.

“Really?”

JJ nodded, dead serious. “Wouldn’t have guessed you hadn’t had any practice in five years. Felt pretty damn natural.”

You noticed the smile—subtle, almost too subtle—but it was there. Just like the way his gaze kept flicking to your lips… and then slightly lower. You noticed. Oh, you definitely noticed. 

Because you were doing the exact same thing.You really wanted to see where this was going. Hell, you even wondered if he’d kiss you again tonight. 

Even if it was just a thought—one you knew probably wouldn’t become real.

“Oh, stop.” You turned your head, trying to hide the shy smile spreading across your face.

JJ reached over and tapped your knee for attention, laughing. “I’m serious! I felt like a total amateur and you were like, a fucking pro.” 

He exaggerated with his hands and expressions, and you had to fight the urge to roll your eyes.

He couldn’t say shit like that. He just—he shouldn’t.

You turned toward him, looking him dead in the face. “What a big liar.”

JJ raised his brows. “What? I swear, it’s true!”

Before you knew what was happening, your chair shifted. JJ had grabbed it from underneath and pulled you closer. He was nearer now. His eyes locked on yours, one arm casually resting over the back of your chair like he wasn’t doing the most right now.

But you could see it—the mischief in his eyes.

He seriously needed to calm down. Because you were starting to get the wrong idea.

The second he leaned in slightly, you snapped out of it. You caught how his eyes briefly dipped to your smile. It was quick, but you saw it. 

You pressed your hand to his chest and turned your head away. “Stop.”

JJ shook his head, fidgeting like he was trying to get your attention again. “No. You’re just naturally talented.” Even though you thought he was just joking, something about his tone… made it hard to tell. 

It was messing with your head. Actually—it was starting to make you question everything.

This time, your eyes dropped to the floor.Were you blushing? Maybe. But the way your stomach fluttered? That was the real giveaway. Thank God he couldn’t see that.

“I don’t believe you.” You still hadn’t looked back at him. 

You shook your head, smiling to yourself. But his eyes—yeah, they were still on you. And he wasn’t done messing around.

“Want me to prove it?” JJ took the hand that was resting on his chest and wrapped his fingers around yours, gently pulling free.

Your eyes shot to him instantly. He grinned, clearly proud of himself. 

Of course he was. 

He was trying to get you to look at him.

Your mouth parted slightly—like you were about to say something—but you stopped yourself. 

He was just playing. Just a game.

Fine. 

If it’s a game, then let it be a game. If he thought you were gonna just sit there and melt, he had another thing coming.

You turned toward him fully, matching his energy. “Oh, you wanna prove it?” There was a smirk on your lips now—teasing, sharp. 

He noticed. You saw that familiar spark in his eyes flicker alive again. He licked his lips. “Only if you want me to.” The softness in his words… the tone of his voice— 

You couldn’t tell if he was still playing or if he’d just crossed some invisible line.

But for a moment, you were filled with anger. The way he was treating it like a game—it pissed you off. But you bit your tongue not to show it. 

“You wanna kiss me?” The words came out teasing, but your eyes had narrowed. You didn’t regret it for a second. If he was gonna play games, then fine—you’d play harder. You wanted to push his limits. Still, your heart skipped a beat with every word.

JJ let out a soft laugh, part breath, part amusement. He leaned back a little and adjusted himself in the chair. “Always so straightforward, huh?” He shook his head, and you had to stop yourself from smiling at that damn grin of his. The moment you noticed his eyes sweeping over you, you straightened up.

He tilted his head and kept his eyes on you.

You leaned in slightly. “Would you have preferred I dragged it out and acted like an idiot instead?”

“Maybe.” He shrugged. That classic Maybank smirk on his face. The one that hadn’t changed in years. The one that usually got to you.

You laughed. “Are you flirting with me, Maybank?” The question was clear, but the subtext was even louder. And when you looked into his eyes—you could see it. He was having fun.

You leaned back, resting against your chair. “Would you want me to?” JJ asked. He reached behind you, his fingers playing with the ends of your hair. His eyes flicked from your face to your hair as he twirled a strand between his fingers.

“So I’m the only one on this island you haven’t flirted with yet, huh?” You pulled your hair forward, away from his hand. When you did, you caught that tired smile on his lips. He rubbed his eyes with his free hand.

He squinted, pretending to think. “You and maybe a couple others,” he said, like he was trying to get under your skin. His voice had a playful, taunting edge to it.

His hand—still behind you—slid to your shoulder. He started tracing small circles there, and a chill ran down your spine. The air wasn’t cold. It was actually a nice evening. But his touch? It messed with your head. It burned and tingled all at once.

You tried to act like it didn’t affect you, but your sharp inhale gave you away. You looked him in the eye. JJ was already looking at you.

“What’s all this about?” you asked, eyes narrowed. “Figured you’d check me off the list while you’re back on the island?”

JJ laughed. That stupid grin again—it was seriously getting on your nerves. You were getting more and more pissed and—

Wait.

You were jealous, weren’t you?

“If I’d wanted to, I would’ve done it five years ago,” he said. “Only one I see is you.”

His words—combined with that little realization—threw you off for a second. He was just playing. That’s all this was. His usual game. Nothing new.

You sighed and turned your head away. This boy was exhausting.

When you looked away, JJ let out a breath of his own. “Soo… a kiss?” His tone was playful, as always. But underneath it—there was something else. Hope.

You turned to him, that teasing smirk on your face. “In your dreams.” You leaned in slightly when you said it, laughing. You may have wanted it, deep down, but he was still just playing.

“Yeah— I hope so.” He nodded, and you could almost see him replaying that sentence a thousand times in his head.

You were about to say something else when a voice cut in.

“We’re back,” Cleo announced, holding a plate stacked with slices of cake.

The second JJ heard her, he shot up like he’d been caught. You, Pope, and Cleo stared at him, confused. “Nope. I think we should go home,” he said, his voice bouncing between a joke and actual intention.

You exhaled hard when it clicked what he was trying to do. You grabbed his arm. Met his eyes. “JJ. Sit down.”

JJ looked from Pope to you. There was a tiny pause. “Yes, ma’am,” he said, sitting back down immediately. That sly grin was back. You could’ve punched him.

Pope furrowed his brows, glancing between you and JJ, clearly lost. “What the hell just happened?”

JJ turned to you, about to explain. “Well, we were kinda—”

“Talking about nothing,” you cut in quickly. You knew damn well he was doing this on purpose.

JJ chuckled. His eyebrows raised, eyes scanning your face. “Is that what we were doing?”

“Shut up,” you snapped without missing a beat. You sighed, biting your lip. This boy was never gonna change.

“What the hell’s going on here?” Cleo asked, setting the plate on the table and plopping down in the chair across from you two.

You glanced at JJ. Took a quick second to assess him before speaking. “He’s getting cocky ‘cause we made up.”

“And she likes it,” JJ said, nodding proudly, like it was some kind of win.

You rolled your eyes, grinning despite yourself. “Yeah, sure I do.”

The house was almost holding its breath when you got back. A heavy silence settled over everything — a strange mix of calm and tension woven into the night. As you took off your shoes in the dim living room light, the only sounds were the faint, rhythmic breaths from somewhere deeper inside. Lily was already asleep.

You glanced over at JJ, who was slowly making his way down the stairs. You rested your elbow on the armrest, hand propped under your chin. His shirt was wrinkled, and his eyes were a little red from exhaustion. 

“She asleep?” you asked in a low voice. No matter what, you didn’t want Liliana to wake up.

JJ tilted his head slightly, a soft, tired smile playing on his lips. When he reached the bottom step, he stretched slowly and nodded. 

“Out like a light. Didn’t even need a bedtime story,” he murmured back, his voice just as quiet as yours.

Your eyebrows lifted a little, lips parting in a faint smile. 

“John B and Sarah must’ve worn her out.”

JJ gave a lazy shrug, but his eyes still held that sleepy warmth. 

“Probably.”

As he walked toward you, his eyes flicked briefly to the TV. You followed his gaze — the screen was still on, playing something low in the background. You’d turned it on when you got back, but you hadn’t really been paying attention. When you looked back, his gaze had returned to you — focused, closer now.

His eyes slowly scanned your face like he was trying to figure something out. Really looking. You could feel it — his eyes taking in every detail: your eyes, your hair, your lips. 

“Did you do something?” he asked, tone slightly suspicious, like he was trying to catch something he couldn’t quite name.

Your brows lifted slowly. Your hand instinctively went to your hair, wondering if something was on your face. 

“What do you mean?” you asked, brushing your cheek like you were checking for smudges or crumbs.

“You look really good.”

Your hand dropped, eyes widening. Your heartbeat picked up, thudding in your chest like it suddenly forgot how to keep a rhythm.

You tried to remember if he’d ever said things like that before. Compliments like this… Did he usually do that? You weren’t even sure if you had noticed. But now it felt like it was too much.

Not too much in a bad way. More like… it made you aware. And you knew you hadn’t felt this way before — at least, not like this. But lately, it was like every sentence out of his mouth made your heart skip.

You tilted your head down slightly, catching yourself before it turned into full-blown shyness. You squared your shoulders and tried to steady your face. 

“No,” you said, voice soft but steady. “Actually… I’d say I’m just tired.”

JJ smirked faintly, his eyes still exploring your expression. For a second, he paused like he could see you were trying to hide something. Then his head tilted slightly, a familiar gleam in his eyes. 

“You always look good,” he said. “I just said it weird.”

You looked away for a second, then let out a small, genuine smile. 

“Thanks,” you murmured, a blush creeping up your cheeks. You could feel the heat spreading fast. Your eyes dropped to the floor, but no matter where you looked, your thoughts weren’t letting go. So you lifted your head again, lips parting with a quiet sigh. 

“So… what’s your deal?”

JJ’s gaze met yours. His brows lifted with curiosity. 

“What do you mean?”

“This whole flirting thing…” you said, drawing vague circles in the air with your hands. The sentence carried all your confusion with it. JJ’s eyes sparkled slightly, and yours drifted from his lips to his eyes.

“Flirting?” he echoed, the corner of his mouth curling into a smirk. “This is just me being me.”

You tilted your head, narrowing your eyes like you were trying to solve a puzzle. For a second, you wondered if you were the one overthinking it — but you shut that thought down fast. 

“As far as I remember,” you said, voice half-teasing but sincere, “you haven’t offered to kiss me even once in the past five years.”

JJ let out a laugh, leaning slightly toward you with a playful glint in his eye. 

“Did I not?” he said, clearly entertained. “Damn shame.”

“JJ…” you said, his name coming out like a warning — soft, but full of meaning.

You hated that a part of you felt hopeful when he acted like this. Hated it.

He sighed, raising his hands like he was defending himself. 

“Look— I’m just trying to keep the peace, alright? Maybe I’m being a little shit about it, but that’s all it is. If it’s not working for you—”

“No!” you said quickly, cutting him off without even thinking. “I didn’t say that.” 

Your words came out rushed, breath uneven. You regretted it instantly, but it was too late — that smirk was already creeping onto JJ’s face.

He locked eyes with you, balancing on that line between serious and teasing. 

“So you do like it?”

You opened your mouth, but no words came out. Your lips moved, but your voice got caught somewhere in your throat. And then he moved — slowly circling the couch, eyes never leaving yours. His steps were steady, deliberate. When he sat down beside you, his knees brushed yours. He was close.

He grinned like he was swallowing a laugh. 

“Didn’t know you were such a dirty girl, sweetheart.”

Your eyebrows shot up. That kind of comment definitely threw you off. 

“Stop,” you said, frowning — but you couldn’t stop the smile tugging at your lips.

“What? I didn’t even do anything,” JJ said, shrugging. His expression, though, said otherwise.

“You’re just… so fucking annoying sometimes.” 

Your voice was laced with sarcasm, but your heart was pounding like hell.

JJ narrowed his eyes, studying you. “Yeah? You look pissed,” he said, his voice softening, like he was trying to read you.

You leaned forward on the couch, closing the distance between you two until there was barely a breath between your faces. “Does that turn you on?” you asked, locking your eyes with his.

JJ’s eyes widened. His eyebrows shot up and he leaned back slightly. “What?”

“What do you mean ‘what’? Surprised now that I’m speaking your language?” you teased, letting out a laugh that was part amused, part nervous. Your heart was pounding, but this game—being this close to him—was both terrifying and addictive.

“I just… wasn’t expecting that,” JJ said, tossing his hair back. His hand slid through it as he tilted his head to the side.

You raised your brows and stepped in closer. “Yeah? So you prefer me pissed off all the time, or—”

JJ laughed, throwing his hands up. “Woah! Okay! Calm down.”

You giggled too, tilting your head and winking. “Or maybe you'd rather practice like you said before?”

Silence fell. The air between you buzzed with something heavy. JJ didn’t say a word. He just kept staring, studying your face like it held some answer. Whatever this was, it made you shift uncomfortably. He didn’t look away.

You spoke softly, your eyes scanning him. “Cat got your tongue now? You suddenly got real quiet.”

JJ pursed his lips and looked away with a slight scowl. “Stop playing.”

You shrugged with a faint smirk. You kind of liked getting under his skin. “Whatever you want.” Another beat of silence passed before you changed the subject, more gently this time. “Were you happy today? With the whole Rafe thing and, you know…”

JJ turned his head toward you slowly and took a deep breath, like your question was heavier than it sounded. He took his time before answering, eyes steady on yours. “Liliana welcomed me. That made me happy.” His voice dropped lower, almost to a whisper, and he looked down at his hands. “She still loves me more.” Just like he said at Pope’s house… but this time, it felt like he was saying it to himself, not to you.

“JJ…” you said softly, placing a hand on his chest to bring his attention back.

It worked. JJ looked up with a quiet “Hmm?” and when his eyes met yours, he looked… innocent. Like a kid.

“She’ll always love you first,” you said, without a hint of doubt in your voice. Maybe saying that would hurt Rafe if he ever heard it—but you weren’t going to lie. Not about this.

The hardness in JJ’s face slowly melted. His lips relaxed. “She will, won’t she?” he asked, voice barely holding steady. You knew he questioned it. But no matter what, JJ would always be in Liliana’s life—as long as he wanted to be.

You moved your hand from his chest to his cheek, brushing his skin gently with your thumb. “Of course. No one can change that.”

JJ leaned into your touch, shifting slightly closer. “I just… panicked, you know?”

You nodded. “I know,” you said, voice low and warm.

JJ parted his lips like he was about to say something, then stopped. He closed his eyes, pressing his cheek into your hand, and let the words spill out. “You and Liliana… you’re my family.”

Something fluttered in your chest. Those words hit deep. You couldn’t lose him. And just like you couldn’t lose him, you wouldn’t let him lose you two either. No way. “There’s no other way to see it. You are my family. And I know Liliana feels the same.”

JJ leaned in, guilt and longing flickering in his eyes. “I still feel like I owe you.”

You exhaled deeply. As much as this whole thing still hurt, knowing he was hurting more changed something in you. “It was just a misunderstanding,” you said, not letting him go further. It was done. You’d closed that chapter. You didn’t want to think about those days anymore.

But JJ wasn’t done. “I left Liliana. I left you and—”

You gripped his cheek firmly and lifted his lowered head. You hated seeing him like that, hunched over in regret. It was just a mistake. And that’s all it would ever be. You weren’t going to revisit it again. “JJ. It’s over. We talked about it. We understood each other. That’s enough. That’s what matters.”

JJ closed his eyes, then opened them again. “I’ll never do that again.” His gaze was heavy, like he was begging you to believe him. Almost desperate.

You smiled at him. You wanted to shift the mood, bring back some lightness. You couldn’t stand seeing him so down—and never would. No matter what darkness followed him, you’d fight it. “As if I’d let you,” you said, moving in a little closer.

JJ chuckled, lips curving. “God bless that kiss.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh Jesus.” You were about to run your hand through his hair when JJ reached up and held your hand to his cheek, pressing a soft kiss into your palm. Your heart skipped a beat. A warm rush spread through your chest.

“What, am I wrong?” he murmured casually.

You stammered. “No. No… I’m thankful for that kiss too.”

Honestly? Your brain was fried. No, really. You weren’t okay—and you probably wouldn’t be for a while. You couldn’t even remember what you’d said a second ago.

“Right?”

“Yeah…” you breathed out, barely audible. You didn’t even know what you were agreeing to anymore. All you knew was—you were close. Too close. And this closeness… it was dizzying. Your breath caught as your eyes wandered over his face. God, you hated him. So much.

Then your eyes met again. Silence. Heavy and thick.

JJ’s voice came out like a whisper. “Are you thinking about kissing me?”

His voice snapped you out of it. You shook your head quickly, eyes wide. “Oh my god, JJ…” you said, yanking your hand away. You shifted awkwardly on the couch, leaning back like that would give you space. Your eyes were still wide.

JJ tilted his head, that smug smirk back on his lips. “What? You were staring at my mouth. Are you a perv?”

You had been. Without even realizing it. And now you hated yourself for letting him affect you that much. But you were still thinking about it. That moment he kissed your palm.

“I wasn’t— Fuck off…” you said, flustered. Your voice shook, but not from anger—because he caught you.

JJ grinned. “What? No—”

“I said go!” you snapped, shoving him back.

[pjmxtra]

Can you write something with riki with a reader with daddy issues ?? smut or fluff or both u choose i love your fics sm 😭😭

i’m not him ⋆˚⟡˖ ࣪

paring: 니키 x gnr

warning: angst to fluff, daddy issues, mentions of yelling, not being good enough, reader is smaller than riki

an: thank you sm for the request! i decided to do fluff for this once since it hit so close to home and i can’t bear writing it rn. hope it was up to your expectations and thank you again for the compliment on my writing!

The fights were inevitable.

Your father would come home exhausted, head pounding, the weight of the day heavy on his shoulders. You always knew the signs — the way his keys clattered sharper than necessary onto the counter, the slump of his body as he threw himself onto the couch, the way his eyes glazed past you like you weren’t even there.

But you were young — too young to understand how someone could be present and so absent all at once. So, you did what any little girl would do: you tried. You tried to fill the heavy silence with bright smiles and endless chatter, desperate to pull him back, to make him see you. You spoke about everything and nothing, heart wide open, hoping he’d listen. Hoping he’d love you loud in return.

Instead, he’d snap.

Sharp words. Cold eyes. A harsh tone that made your chest cave in.

“Just shut up already,” he’d bark, and you would crumble, every time — running to your room, stifling your sobs into the pillow. You learned young that your voice could be a weapon against yourself. That love could be conditional. That your presence could be too much.

And so you grew quieter. More careful. You weighed your words before you spoke them. Measured your laughter. Softened your footsteps. You became an expert at shrinking yourself until you were almost invisible — anything to avoid the shame of being too much, too loud, too you.

When you started dating Riki, you made it your silent mission: Don’t be annoying. Don’t be too much. Stay small. Stay safe.

Maybe then he wouldn’t leave.

Maybe then you’d be enough.

The clock struck twelve when you heard the door creak open, the soft shuffle of tired footsteps echoing through the cold, dim apartment. You sat curled on the couch, a half-watched show playing to an empty room. The second Riki stepped inside, you shot up, forcing a bright smile onto your face.

“Hi, Ki!” you chirped, voice higher than you intended.

Riki’s face, pale and drawn with exhaustion, barely lifted to meet your eyes. His duffel bag slipped from his shoulder with a heavy thud, and he dragged himself over, dropping onto the couch beside you. His body sprawled out, limbs heavy, every move soaked in fatigue.

Still, you tried. “How was practice, Ki?” you asked, carefully, sweetly, trying to wedge yourself into the growing space between you.

“Fine,” he mumbled, eyes closed.

You kept talking, desperate to fill the emptiness. “Mine was good too! Kinda boring without you though. I did catch up on that new show we started — the one you said looked cool? I think you’d really like it, it’s got—”

He let out a heavy sigh, cutting through your words like a blade.

“Look, I’m tired, okay?” he muttered, sitting up with effort. “Let’s talk about this later. I’m gonna go shower.”

He left without a second glance.

The silence he left behind was louder than any scream.

You sat frozen for a moment, the weight of your own words crashing down around you. The smile you had so carefully stitched across your face fell apart at the seams. Your throat tightened, a lump swelling that you couldn’t swallow down.

You annoyed him. You made him leave.

The sound of the shower running in the distance only sharpened the ache inside you, anchoring you to the reality you didn’t want to face. You curled tighter into yourself on the couch, arms wrapped around your middle as if you could hold yourself together.

You didn’t realize when you started crying — it came slow at first, a sting behind your eyes, a soft hitch in your breath. Then harder, faster, until you were gasping, your chest heaving under the pressure.

You crawled into bed alone, pulling the blanket up to your chin, curling into the smallest shape you could manage. Maybe if you were small enough, quiet enough, you wouldn’t be a burden. Wouldn’t be too much.

When Riki joined you later, the mattress dipped under his weight, his body sinking in beside you. His warmth should’ve been a comfort — but the gap between you felt like a canyon. His arm slung over your waist, but it was loose, half-hearted, almost mechanical. You could feel how far away he was.

And still, the noise in your head wouldn’t stop.

You pushed him away. You made him tired of you. You’re too much.

A soft, broken sniffle escaped you before you could bite it down. Immediately, Riki stirred.

“Baby?” His voice was thick with sleep, but sharpened instantly with concern. He propped himself up on one elbow, peering down at you through the dark.

“Why you crying?” he asked, voice rough and bewildered.

You shook your head desperately, trying to hide your face from him. But Riki was relentless when it came to you — he pulled gently at your shoulder until you were facing him, your tear-streaked face bathed in the faint moonlight.

His heart twisted painfully at the sight.

“Oh, angel,” he murmured, sliding closer, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you firmly into his chest. He held you like you might break — no, like you already were, and he was trying to piece you back together.

You buried your face in his hoodie, clutching the fabric like a lifeline.

“I’m sorry,” you choked out against him. “I didn’t mean to be annoying. I didn’t mean to make you mad.”

“Mad?” Riki repeated, stunned. His hands stilled on your back. “Baby, no. No. I’m not mad.”

But you couldn’t stop — the words spilled out, messy and gasping, the dam finally breaking.

“It’s just—” you sobbed, voice trembling, “When you’re quiet like that… when you don’t want to talk to me… it feels like I’m bothering you. Like you don’t want me around. And it’s stupid but—” you squeezed your eyes shut, the memory sharp and painful, “it reminds me of my dad.”

Riki froze, heart hammering in his chest. You pressed your forehead against him, words tumbling out raw and broken.

“He’d come home tired and mad. Wouldn’t look at me. Wouldn’t listen. I’d try so hard to make him see me — but I was always just… noise. Annoying. Something to shut up and push away.” You trembled in his arms. “I learned to stay small so they wouldn’t leave. So I wouldn’t ruin everything.”

The silence that followed was heavy. Crushing.

You could hear Riki’s heartbeat, fast and frantic under your ear, as he held you tighter. His big hands cradled your head, wrapped around your back, cocooning you in warmth and desperation.

He kissed the top of your head, lips trembling against your hair.

“I’m not him,” he whispered fiercely, voice cracking. “God angel- i’m not him”

You sobbed harder at his words, the relief and fear and love crashing together inside you.

“I’m not ever going to make you feel like you have to shrink yourself for me,” he said, pulling back just enough to tilt your chin up. His thumb wiped away the tears streaking down your face. His eyes — dark, earnest, burning with something raw and unshakable — locked onto yours.

“I want your voice,” he said, fierce and aching. “I want every piece of you — loud, soft, messy, wild. You’ll never be too much for me, baby. Never.”

You shuddered, breaking apart in his arms as his words wrapped around you like a balm.

“I love you,” he said again, sure and solid. “All of you.”

He kissed you then — your forehead, your nose, your cheeks, your mouth — each kiss a vow, a tether pulling you back to him. Slow and tender, steady and real.

His kiss tasted like home. Like a promise you could believe in.

You melted into him, clinging to his warmth, his steady heartbeat, the way he whispered against your skin that he wasn’t leaving — not now, not ever.

And for the first time in a long, long time, you let yourself believe it.

You were safe here.

Safe in his arms. Safe to be loud. Safe to be loved. Safe to be you.

[totalswag]

unfold — RAFE CAMERON

authors note sorry for not posting as much with fics, life got a little to serious for a moment. huge thank you for 600+ followers you guys are absolutely amazing ugh. this idea came in mind randomly one day and rafe little unfolding with his enemy is...

summary you have been rafe camerons shit list for a long time now. what happens when you attend a party at tannyhill and somehow make Rafe cameron fold

warnings mentions of smoking, drinking, cussing, partying

Rafe Cameron, kook king, as people would say.

He’s one of the most popular people in outer banks. Just hearing his name sends shivers down people's spines. He has girls practically on their knees for him left and right. There’s something about him that captivates them.

But, you don't want to mess with him either. You don’t want to be on his bad side. When he walks into a room, everyone stops and looks at him with fear or wondering what he's gonna do. He loves the fact that he has that effect on others. It helps boost his ego.

Rafe Cameron, on the other hand, has had you on his shitlist for a long time. You enjoy antagonizing and teasing him. You enjoy seeing him furious when you do things that irritate him. People warn you, but you dismiss them since he never does anything about it. He’s never and will never do anything in ways to hurt you physically. 

Rafe’s throwing a party at his house tonight. Of course he didn’t invite you. He knows you’ll show up regardless because that's how you are. Word spreads quickly on the island.

"Y/N, I didn't expect to see you here?" stated one of your close friends, Hailey, smiles as she hugged you.

You initially stated that you would not attend a party because you were not in the mood to do anything this weekend other than sit at home and watch movies. However, once you found that Rafe was throwing a party and happened to live down the road from you, you had no choice but to come and make your presence known. 

“Oh well you know me, gotta make my presence known” you chuckle, taking a sip of your drink, scanning the room.

“If you wanna find Rafe, I’m pretty sure he’s somewhere in the living room or doing coke out back with the guys” Hailey whispers in your ear, winking.

Hailey is very well aware that you enjoy annoying the crap out of the Cameron boy. She claims it's for her own entertainment. She's waiting for you two to crack because she knows you are into each other but won't confess it.

"Let's go on the dance floor?" You insist as you take her hand in yours and walk her past the crowd to the living room.

The two of you start dancing to the beat of the music. A few people you recognize from school come up, catching you off by surprise. You girls end up dancing with each other for half of the night alongside the crowd.

“I’m gonna head to the bathroom real quick” you whisper in her ear. 

“Okay, be safe” she replies back, squeezing your hand before you start walking away.

You bump into a muscular body on your way to the bathroom, and you look up to Rafe, who is already glaring down at you with a stern expression, as if he's about to argue about the fact that you're at his party. You can sense the tension in his body building. You like it.

A smile forms on your lips, and your pointer finger grips and plays with his chain, "looks like someone isn't happy to see me, huh?" You sarcastically remark, waiting for him to snatch your hand away from his chain.

"My night was going great before I bumped into you, Y/N," he replies with a harsh tone with a slight hint sarcastic, rolling his eyes. 

"Aw, are you not excited to see me?" you cynically pout.

Rafe is trying so hard to go off like he usually does with you. You know how to get under his skin unlike anyone else. He hates that you have that effect on him that just snaps.

"You really don't want to start it with me right now, Y/N," he says harshly and sternly. Looking in his eyes, you can see he's had coke and drank.

"Oh, but I really want to start, Rafe," you remark as you move closer, chests meeting.

You couldn’t help but feel the sexual tension growing between the both of you. This is the first time you are feeling it. You’ve always wondered why he never did anything about your behavior towards him. Actually, no one doesn’t know why, only Rafe does. 

Hailey stood a few feet away, watching the whole thing unfold. She had to remove herself from the large crowd of people around her to watch her best friend.

Before Rafe can respond, Kelce walks up to tell Rafe to go in the backyard because there’s something he needs to show him.

"Oh, hey Y/N, it's good to see you and looking beautiful as always" Kelce smiles giving you a warm hug.

"It's to see you too Kelce and thank you" you reply while pulling away from the hug.

“Nice seeing you Rafe” you wave innocently, smiling, then flipping him off with a straight face.

You both know you’ll run into each other again tonight.

When you make your way back to Hailey, she’s laughing over the interaction she watched. You tell her to shut it before she says anything else. You drag her down the hall into the bathroom to pee and talk about what happened.

“I love seeing you do that to him” Hailey laughs, taking a sip of her drink, jumping on the bathroom sink.

In answer, you grin, lifting your finger and moving it back and forth, "The way he was ready to go off on me but cut off when Kelce told him to go in the backyard made me wanna laugh in his face."

After the bathroom, you both headed into the kitchen to get another drink from the coolers. The kitchen was occupied with people getting drinks or simply standing and talking.

Hailey began talking to this guy she'd been eyeing for a while. 

You lean in to whisper in her ear, "I'm gonna let you be, call or text me if you need anything," and she smiles back, reassuring you she’ll be okay.

You scan the room, unsure of what or who you're looking for. Something inside you tells you to go find Rafe and annoy the living shit out of him. Topper and Kelce noticed you examining the room from afar and approached you. 

The two wave as they approach you, you wave back smiling.

“Hello boys” you smile, “enjoying the party?” you ask, taking a sip of your drink.

The last time you saw Kelce he was drunk but not drunk enough. Now here he is half an hour later crossed.

“Fuck yeah, we are crossed” Kelce chuckles, throwing his head back.

Topper agrees with a nod.

“Oh, I can tell,” you reply.

Topper turns around when he sees Rafe making his way over. The two boys take a step back, revealing you. Rafe stops his tracks, rolling his eyes, tongue runs over his bottom lip, annoyed.

Perfect timing to annoy him.

The two boys let out a chuckle, shaking their heads from the look on Rafe’s furious look. 

Something leads you to take Rafe's hand and lead him to the large crowd. You follow your gut and approach him gently. You gaze up to him, who is already staring at you with such intensity that it sends shivers down your spine. You grab his hand in yours and bring him towards the large crowd in the living room.

Topper and Kelce’s jaws dropped when they watched Rafe follow you into the crowd. For one, Rafe never does that with you, ever. They give each other the look of you just saw that too look.

"Please tell me Rafe just let her do that?" Topper blurts with confusion spread all over his face.

Kelce rubbed his eye to make sure he was seeing the same thing as Topper.

When you come to stop, turn around and face him. You can tell he's irritated that you dragged him to the center of the dance floor. But you're wondering why he let you do it.

"Why did you lead me here, Y/N?" Rafe questions.

"I wanna dance, Rafe, and you are gonna dance with me," you chuckle, grabbing both Rafe's hands and resting them on your waist while maintaining eye contact with him.

He shrugs his shoulders, turns your body around, making you gasp, catching you off guard. Now your back is against his front. 

You tilt your head back, swaying your hips to the rhythm of the music while his hands rest themselves on your waist.

As you continue to dance to the music, Rafe leans down to your ear, “you are playing a dangerous game with me, Y/N” the thrill in your blood went through the roof by his comment.

With a smirk, you close your eyes and place your left hand on the back of his neck, drawing his head down so you could whisper in his ear. The sound of his steady breathing may be felt against your skin.

"What kind of game are you implying?" you asked, touching the ends of his hair behind his head.

"C'mon, you can't tell me you haven't been enjoying this, Y/N? You know what I mean," he says, knowing what he means as he’s directing both hands from your waist to the center of your stomach and back to your waist, attempting to catch you off guard, but you refuse to let it happen.

You know that he knows you love annoying the shit out of him but he can tell by the way your body reacts to his touch that has him a little intrigued.

In reaction, you back yourself into his front, drawing a sigh from his lips before spinning around, stepping on your tiptoes and putting your arms around his neck.

You feel something hard pressing against your stomach. In that moment you knew where the night was gonna take you both.

You two make eye contact.

You notice his eyes looking at your lips then your eyes, going back and forth.

“If you’re gonna look at my lips you should just kiss them” you remark with sass which didn’t make him quite happy but you didn’t care.

He leans closer, and your faces get inches closer and closer. At this time, both of your breaths are increasing, but no one is moving. You lean forward and extend the tip of your tongue, allowing it to touch Rafe's upper lip.

Rafe's demeanor shifted, which concerned you a little because you'd seen how aggressive he can be but he'd never hurt you. He grabs your wrist and brings you through the enormous home and upstairs to his bedroom, which is down a hallway and out of hearing. 

As you passed past people, they were taken aback to find you holding hands with Rafe Cameron as you walked the stairs. You can imagine the amount of discussion and publishing on social media.

"You never know when to shut up and take a hint, little one," he says with his back to you, locking his bedroom door before turning around backing you up against the edge of his bed.

"I actually do know when to shut up, mister," you respond, still standing firm. 

Rafe catches you off guard by pushing you onto his bed, opening your legs so he can stand between them, and smoothly moving his hands up and down your thighs. 

"Oh, do you, Princess? Let's see how that goes while you're screaming my name beneath me.”

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[bumpkinspice0]

Apex Predator

Sabertooth/ Victor Creed x FemReader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 8.4k (like how? How did that happen?)

Summary: You hear two animals fighting in the woods one night. You find one of them the next day and bring him into your home. The red flags stack up, yet you can't help but find yourself drawn to him. A/N: don't ask me what possessed me to write a Victor fic I dont know I don’t know and I'm not gonna think about it too hard. Just enjoy. Liev Schreiber is fine as hell with a voice that should be studied Warnings: Injury and wound descriptions, blood, S M U T, Porn with Plot, hurt/ comfort, feral/ animalistic behavior (duh), rough sex, oral sex, cum eating (out of pussy... hell yeah), biting, licking, I wrote the word tongue too many times, why have none of you put me down yet?

AO3 if you prefer to read there

_______

There are monsters in the woods tonight. 

You hear them roaring just past the tree line— massive animals battling for dominance. Not a completely uncommon thing in your part of the world, but definitely an unwelcome one. You grip the shotgun tighter as you dare to step out onto the front porch of your modest cabin. The late fall air would send a chill up your spine if the fear hadn’t done that already. You see nothing. You turn the yard light on, thinking it might scare whatever is out there away, but the blind roaring doesn’t stop. 

Whatever was out there, it wasn’t afraid of man.

You’d lived out here long enough to identify almost any critter by sound. But this wasn’t like any animals you’d ever heard before. Grunting and snarling accompanied by snapping branches, sometimes almost sounding borderline human. You lived too far out for the police to be any help and the only self-defence you had was already in your hands. You immediately retreat back into the house, lock the doors, and turn out all the lights. If whatever was out there couldn’t be scared away, then you’d have to do your best to hide and stay safe. 

You turn your armchair to face the door, shotgun resting at the ready on your lap. A sleepless night was nothing if it meant your life. You’d only done this once before. A mother grizzly bear had stalked your cabin for 2 days. She almost broke down the door on the last night. Somehow… This seemed worse. 

The turbulent unforeseen violence outside continued as the night crawled on, but it never came close to your door. Regardless, you sat at the ready as the clock ticked on and you forced your eyes to stay open.

Eventually, the roaring faded. When the woods were tranquil again, you were already asleep.

______________

You wake up to the blinding morning light. The shotgun was still resting on your lap, and you silently scolded yourself for falling asleep with it still on your person before setting it to the side. You recline the chair, stretching out as the evening events come flooding back to you in an instant. 

Something horrible happened last night just outside your door. If you were younger you’d be absolutely petrified right now, and maybe a small part of you was. You can never fully train fear out of you. But you’d been out here a while. You’re part of the ecosystem like anything else. This was your territory. That was challenged last night. You needed to establish you’re not afraid. 

With heavy feet, you walk to the front door. You step onto the porch, shotgun still in hand. Your first steps onto the ground are cautious. The woods are quiet this morning, creatures hidden away in fear of whatever they witnessed last night. It makes your hair stand on end, but still, you press on. 

The only sound that can be heard is the crunch of leaves under your feet as you stalk towards the edge of your property line— closer to where the sounds came from last night. You stop when the treeline gets denser and the ground gets steep. The sound of the river just down the hill is comforting. 

Panic grips you when you spot it. 

A man— beaten and blooded, half submerged on the shore. 

You scramble down the hill without thinking. It wasn’t a fight between two predators. It was a fight between an animal and a man. He was fighting for his life and you just sat there all night.

He’s worse when you get up close. There are gashes on nearly every part of his body— claw marks in sets of three. There’s a massive one across his entire face. He’d likely lost his right eye. 

You crouch down beside him, getting a better look at his features beneath the gore. His hair was short and dark. You can make out some thick stubble caked with blood. You cautiously hover your hand over his mouth. It was faint but it was there— breath. God, he’d been bleeding out all night, how is he still alive?

There’s no time to think about it now, you have to help him. You had to try at least. 

You drop your gun, hook your arms under his shoulders and heave. He’s heavy as hell but you still manage to walk, one step after the other. You’re amazed you managed to get back up the hill to the cabin. Adrenalin is a hell of a thing. 

You put him on the couch in the living room. His skin was ice cold, so your first priority is to light a fire before you do anything else. Dressing his wounds wouldn’t mean anything if hypothermia set in. 

You had a modest stockpile of medical supplies, it was a necessity when someone lived the way you did. The nearest hospital was over 50 miles away and the only road to town had been washed over by a mudslide last week. His only hope was you— and your modest medical knowledge.

You pile up a few rolls of gauze and bowls of clean water next to him on the coffee table. All you had to do was clean and cover the wounds— maybe stitch a few. You take a deep breath and get to work.

__________

Hours. It took hours but you did it. He more resembled a mummy than a man by the time you were done. The cabin was finally warm and his skin was slowly heating up… well, what little of it you could see under the bandages. 

You’d tossed his shirt immediately, it was practically scraps anyway. You let him keep his pants, only with a few holes in the knees and a stray tear or two. He didn’t have shoes, which, now that you’re thinking about it, was a little odd. How do you manage to lose your shoes in a fight for your life? You’ll have to ask him when he wakes up. If he wakes up.

You sit across from him in your armchair, just looking. Though he was asleep he seemed… rough. Mean almost. His haircut made you think he’s a military man but the rest of him said otherwise. Massive sideburns and spotty stubble. Long unkempt nails. You’d never seen hands like his before. They looked… unnatural. This man survived an hours-long fight with some kind of predator, everything about him was unnatural. There’s a name for people like that— you try not to think about it. 

It’s hours later before anything happens. 

You’re in the kitchen when you hear a gasping breath. You immediately run over. 

He’s awake, grasping at the bandages on his chest. He’s breathing rapidly.

“Where am I?!” he croaks out. 

“Don’t do that,” You grab at his hands to stop him from pulling the gauze off, “You’ll open your—”

“Get the hell away from me!” he shoves you down in a flurry of movement. He attempts to get off the couch, collapsing under his own weight instantly. He barks out a pained grunt, grasping at his leg. You’re sure there was at least a severed tendon or two.

“You’re safe!” you assure him as you scramble to his side, keeping a safe distance this time, “You’re in my home. I found you by the river and—”

“Where is he?” the stranger growls through gritted teeth.

“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” You dare to touch him again, urging him back to the couch. To your surprise, he doesn’t flinch away, “Please, get back in bed.”

He finally looks at you now, and the rage in his eyes— well, eye–- sends a shiver down your spine. Your first assumptions were right, this man was angry. Maybe it was a mistake to bring him back here. You brought a stranger into your home— an angry stranger.

You notice his nose twitch. Is he… smelling you?

“You scared?” he asks bluntly.

He doesn’t take his eye off of you. You’re not sure how to navigate this situation. He was clearly dangerous, but he also couldn’t walk at the moment. Was he really a threat or just panicked? He did just wake up in a stranger's home after probably the worst night of his life after all. 

“Are you going to hurt me?” you ask. 

He scoffs, shaking his head with a faint smile.

“No, I don’t think so, frail,” he rolls on his back with a pained groan. He looks at the bandages snaking up his arms. He brings his grizzled hand down to touch the patch over his eye, “Christ, you went through a lot of trouble for nothin’.”

“Should I have left you there to die?” you ask cautiously, reestablishing some distance between the two of you.

“Probably would have been best,” he mumbles, hand still over where his right eye should have been, “Never had it this bad before.”

“Before?” you scoff, “You go wrestling bears in the woods often, stranger?”

“Didn’t fight a damn bear,” he grunts, sitting up and inching his way back to the couch. 

“Oh yeah?” You loop your arm through his and help him the rest of the way onto the couch. “What did you fight?”

He lays back with a heavy sigh. He lets out another small chuckle and you see a flash of pearly white pointed teeth.

“A wolverine.”

_________

You hide away in the other parts of the house until evening. You tried to talk to him a little more after he initially woke up, but he didn’t reciprocate much and honestly, you can’t blame him. You wouldn’t want to be berated with 20 questions after you survived a wolverine attack either. Still, you got a little out of him. 

Victor. He said his name was Victor. 

As the hours rolled on your anxieties stewed more and more about the situation you’d put yourself in. He’s already sitting up and talking. He was conscious less than a day after heavy trauma. He surely had to be in excruciating pain but didn’t say anything. Didn’t even touch the painkillers you set on the table for him. He just sat there, waiting almost. He said he wouldn’t hurt you but you don’t know him. You don’t know what he’s capable of.

He has clawed hands and pointed teeth… and he’s just sitting in your living room. You don’t want to dwell on it. You don’t want to judge. You keep your shotgun within reach just in case. 

You’re in the laundry room when you hear booming footsteps down the hall. 

You rush out to the kitchen and there he is, standing tall and straight.

“What are you— You’re—”

“I was thirsty,” he grits through your stammering, reaching into the cupboard to pull out a glass. 

“You’re walking.” 

He makes a small show of looking down and wiggling his toes, then looking back at you with faux shock on his face. 

“Well, would ya look at that,” he drawls, “It’s a goddamn miracle.” 

He brushes you off and fills his glass in the sink, downing the entire thing in one gulp before immediately filling it up again. 

“You’re still scared.” he gruffs without even looking at you. 

“Why shouldn’t I be?” you stand your ground, glancing to the hallway where your gun was mounted. 

“I said I wouldn’t hurt you,” he reiterates in an almost annoyed tone. He turns to face you now, leaning back against the counter with a new glass of water. 

“How do I know I can trust you?”

He raises his hand and you can’t help but notice his long nails peeking out from behind his fingers. “Scouts honor.”

“I need more than that.” you take a step closer, quelling the anxiety bubbling in your stomach. “If you’re going to stay I need more.”

“More?” He scoffs before taking a swig of his water. “What could you possibly—”

You don’t let him finish, slapping the glass out of his hand. It clamors to the floor without breaking, water splashing at your feet. He seemed like the type of man that would only respond to aggression. He was a guest in this house. This was your territory and you couldn’t let him think he was in charge. He couldn’t walk all over you. Sometimes showing dominance is the best way to stay safe. Show no fear.

You were going to get answers one way or another. 

“I want honesty,” You stand directly in front of him. You see the seething rage in his almost gleaming eye and match it, “I find you mauled half to death and drag you in here. You wake up without so much as a thank you. You couldn’t even walk a few hours ago and now here you are standing in my kitchen thinking you own the place. You give me a little honesty, and I’ll give you a little trust.”

You stand there in bloated silence, both of you refusing to back down. Christ, he’s big. He looks down at you with contempt almost, until his expression melts back into something more neutral. You flinch when he reaches up, but he doesn’t lay his hand on you. His clawed fingers grip the bandages around his chest and rip them off in one fluid motion. 

You almost scream at him to stop before you notice it. The deep gashes that were so prominent on his skin just a few hours ago… were almost completely gone. Only small cuts on fresh pink skin littered his chest. Christ, even the hair was growing back. 

“You— what does… how is this possible?” you ask, almost dumbfounded. But you knew. Deep down you knew. 

“Aw, and here I thought you might be smart,” he tuts, turning to retrieve another glass. 

“You’re a mutant.” You finally say it out loud. There was no denying it now. 

“Told ya you went through a lot of trouble for nothing,” he grunts almost dismissively. He turns to face you again and his expression is almost… soft. He’s relaxed. He’s trying to make you comfortable. That or he was finally relieved everything was out in the open now. Either way, the air was lighter.

“You still scared?” He asks. 

Are you? You’re not sure. He promised he wouldn’t hurt you. And, he gave you what you asked for. He gave you honestly. Now you have to keep up your end of the bargain. 

Unsure of how to continue, you simply reach out your hand. It hovers there in front of him for a moment. He stares at it almost dumbfounded, before he takes it. Your hand feels so small in his. 

“Welcome to my home, Victor,” you offer him a small smile. “I hope you’ll behave or you’ll have led in your ass to worry about next."

His sharp smile could almost be considered kind, “Thanks a million, kitten.”

__________________

By the next morning he’s taken off almost all of the bandages, say for the one over his eye. He said it would take longer for his eye since it was fully regrowing something instead of mending skin. You’re still in awe of it all. You never knew much about mutants, but you're sure he had to be something special. He’d practically come back from the dead. 

You worked up the courage to ask him about the claws last night.

Don’t you know an animal when you see one? Was his only answer. You could make your own assumptions off of that.

He stands just outside of the cabin right now. You’d found an old grey henley shirt for him to wear. He didn’t seem to mind having no shoes. You assume it’s all part of the whole ‘beast’ thing he has going on.

He said he wanted to exercise before he left the house, mumbling about still being sore. His walk has the slightest limp in it you think he’s trying to hide. He stretches his arms over his head and cracks his neck a few times before bounding off into the woods with the agility of a tiger. He really did move like an animal. 

You’re still not sure what to make of him. You didn’t care that he was a mutant, but you can’t shake the feeling that he’s someone dangerous. You could just see it in him. A quiet rage about everything. A cocky smirk that sets you on edge in a way you can’t quite place. And in its own way… a carefully curated image.

On top of all of his red flags, something about him was just so… alluring. You just can’t seem to stop your thoughts from drifting to the more lustful side when you think about him. 

He comes back an hour later. You’re standing at the kitchen window when you see him bound down from the trees. He has two dead pheasants in hand. He takes a seat on the porch and begins plucking them, his back still facing you. You watch his shoulders rise and drop with his ragged breaths, his wide back almost mesmerizing. He was strong, you knew that from the moment you saw him. Vicious too. 

 An animal. He called himself an animal. You wonder just exactly what that meant.

You feel the arousal stir in your belly, a wet ache growing between your legs. You notice his demeanor shift outside, and his head turns slightly. You jump out of view of the window, ashamed to have been spying on his personal time. You’re not sure, but you think you hear a small chuckle outside. 

He comes back in about ten minutes later, with two freshly plucked and gutted birds to offer. Birds he hunted down with his bare hands. 

“Brought dinner,” he announces, placing them in the sink. “Noticed you were almost out of meat.”

You stand on the opposite side of the kitchen, back towards him. You're not sure why, but you're embarrassed. 

“Thank you,” you say, fiddling with whatever books were on the table.

You feel him come up behind you, standing just inches away.  

“Sure thing, kitten,” his lips faintly brush your ear before pulling away. “Gonna shower.”

_______

He was going to track down Logan and finish what he started. He wasn’t going to come back to this fucking place. No reason to. He barely made it 3 miles before the exhaustion started overtaking him, his still cracked ribs and torn tendons aching in protest. It was taking too damn long this time. The runt had done a number on him. He hoped he’d at least returned the favor in equal measure. 

It didn’t matter anymore. He lost Logan’s scent in the river, the water erasing whatever trail that was left. He’d find him eventually and they’d do it all over again. Same old song and dance forever. 

So he scurries back to this shithole cabin to lick his wounds.

He hates it. He hates it here. He hates that he’s apparently so goddamn weak he needed help from a human. He hates the way this fucking cabin smells. He hates you. 

His cock’s painfully hard in his hands. Victor stands hunched over himself in the shower, hoping the rushing water is loud enough to drown out any lewd sounds you might hear. He honestly didn’t know how good human hearing was anymore. 

Truth be told this was probably his favorite way to relieve some stress after getting his ass handed to him— though he’d rather be cumming in someone pretty. You would do nicely, but for some reason, he held back. You wanted him, he could smell it, and Victor Creed held back. Instead giving himself a sad quick jerk in the shower. 

He chalks it up to having some kind of respect for you, whatever little he’s capable of. You dragged his ass up here, kept him in your home, did your best to put him in his place. Usually, he’d call all that stupidity, but being on the receiving end of your kindness was…nice.

 No one was nice to Victor. No one gave a shit, and he was fine with that. You didn’t seem to care he was what he was. Seemed like you just wanted him to be nice. Fine, he can be nice. The Victor Creed version of nice at least. 

Christ, you wanted him— and he smelled it. 

He cums with a groan hissed through clenched teeth. It was empty. Not the release he wanted and it just serves to piss him off more. He wouldn’t stick around here much longer. Wait for his eye to be back in its socket again and bones to snap back into place— then he’d go and do what he’d always done. He’d forget about all of this. 

He already smells the pheasants roasting in the oven. You came with perks, he won’t deny that. 

He doesn’t bother putting a shirt on once his pants are buttoned, walking out of the bathroom dragging a towel across his damp hair. It smelled even better out here. He sits by the kitchen where you scurry around doing god knows what. 

“When’s the bird ready?” he asks. 

“A few hours. We should—” You finally turn to face him, pausing as soon as your eyes land on his face, “You… showered with your bandages on.”

“So?”

“So, you’re gonna get an infection,” you sigh, reaching into a cupboard next to the sink and pulling what he’s pretty sure is your last roll of gauze.

“I don’t get infections,” His words do nothing to stop you as you somehow just materialize in front of him. “You don’t need to—”

“Hush, these things are filthy anyway,” you touch him without hesitation, unwrapping the damp bandages around his head, “Don’t want your eyeball to grow back wrong, do we.”

“You’re unbearable, woman.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that one before,” You brush his words off with a faint smile. When you take the final patch off his eye, he can’t resist.

“Boo!” he snarls, popping his claws up for dramatic effect. You jump, fear only taking your senses for a brief moment before you smile and smack him playfully on the chest. 

“Asshole,” you mutter, taking his face in her hands. He can’t help but chuckle… just a little. your expression drops while you observe the surely hideous gash on his face. Something is growing in his eye socket, he can feel it. It’s almost fully there, but if it’s functional yet is a totally different story. He can barely open it, faint blurry images throwing off his vision and making him dizzy. Maybe it was best to keep the damn thing covered after all.

“How bad is it, doc?” He breaks the silence. 

“Well,” you run a thumb across his cheekbone. He pushes down whatever foreign feeling it stirs in his stomach. “It’s better than it was.”

You grab the gauze. 

“Just a patch this time. Don’t need ta wrap half my head.” He insists.

“Fine, fine,” you absent-mindedly agree while cutting off a few strips of tape. He feels his muscles tense when you touch him again. “It’s amazing your body can do this, you know.”

“Yeah, I’ll count my blessings,” He huffs, almost annoyed. You don't know a goddamn thing. 

“You think your eye will come back a different color?” you continue on absentmindedly, taking your sweet time to position the patch just right.

“What?” he scoffs in amusement. 

“Like you’ll get a blue or purple eye instead. Does that happen?”

“No. No, that doesn’t happen.” He can’t tell if you’re just being naive or trying to make small talk. You don't smell afraid anymore. You smell… relaxed. He liked it. The smell was almost…inviting.

“Mm, probably for the best. You’ve got nice eyes— well, eye.” You honest to god laugh at yourself.

“Oh, do I?” He’d bounce his eyebrows sarcastically if you weren’t finally putting the tape on. 

“Yeah, you do.” you smooth out the final strip of tape across his forehead. “They almost glow. Like a wild cat’s.”

“Honey… you have no idea.”

Your hands still haven’t left his face. When was the last time someone touched him without the intent to hurt him? When was the last time someone paid him an honest compliment? When’s the last time he talked to a pretty girl without the express purpose of getting information out of her? A girl that wasn’t afraid of him… He can’t remember.

Victor didn’t have quite nice moments like this with people. Never let anyone get close enough to try. He wasn’t someone nice things happened to… so of course the moment was ruined almost immediately.

He hears it before he smells it, stalking footprints in the distance. A large predator coming for the cabin. He takes a deep inhale and closes in on it immediately. A cougar, one he’d met earlier today when he was out. He’d encroached on a mother's territory and she’d tracked him here. Now he’d have to defend yours. 

“What is it?” you’d noticed him go stiff, his attention darting to the open door. He grabs your arms as gently as he can and pushes you back.

“Stay inside…please,” He stalks to the door, instincts immediately overtaking his senses. Protect. Defend. Fight if you have to.

He stands on the dirt just in front of the cabin, pacing back and forth— an open challenge. The cougar does the same just beyond the treeline, staying hidden. It doesn’t matter, Victor may be down an eye but he can smell her just fine. This could go on for hours if he didn’t try something. May as well just kill the thing and get it over with. 

“Victor?” your meek voice almost pulls him from his predatory focus— almost. 

“I said stay inside,” it comes out as more of a growl than he intended, but he doesn’t particularly care at the moment, “Back up and lock the door.”

“Please… don’t kill it. Whatever it is.” You beg him for reasons he can’t fully comprehend at the moment.

“Go inside. Now.”

You said nothing and followed his command, locking the door behind you. 

His attention is back on the silent predator just beyond the treeline. This was a territorial dispute, a display of dominance— something Victor was always good at. 

He plants his feet, standing parallel to your front door. He squares his shoulders and roars. A challenge. An invitation, really. 

Just try it, it won’t go well, Victor thinks as he readies his stance, prepared to pounce. 

An eerie silence follows in his voice's echo. The type of silence when there’s about to be trouble. 

The mother reveals herself, only slightly, peeking her head through the brush. Her gaze is locked on to him and teeth bared with quivering cheeks. He should pounce now, take her out in one strike. It would be so easy. Killing was always so easy… but you’d asked him not to. And for some reason, that was harder. Restraint wasn’t something Victor ever practiced, so why now?

Because you asked him to. 

The two predators both remain unmoving. Both pushed to the edge. Victor pushed her to the edge. She didn’t want to fight, she was just protecting what was hers. So was he… in a way. So Victor does something he’s never done before.

He takes a step back. 

He stands at the bottom step of the porch, crouching even lower. He bares the full length of his claws before he roars again— the primal message clear to his fellow predator. 

This is mine. Stay away. 

There’s a beat of heavy silence between the two, a bit longer than he’d like, before he sees the mother’s posture relax. She steps out of the brush, head hung low— a sign of respect. A promise not to come back. They share one final look before she bounds away into the woods once more. 

But it’s not good enough for Victor. He desperately wants to go after her. He wants assurance that you’d be safe. He wants revenge on something for having the audacity to cross him. He wants to march back into the cabin and claim what he’s now marked as his. 

Instead, he paces. He walks the perimeter of the cabin praying something else challenges him so he can kill it. 

__________

He stayed outside until nightfall that day, just walking around the tree line. You didn’t dare stop him. Something about the way he moved, the way he carried himself, it frightened you. And in a way you’re not ready to admit to, it excites you. This massive lumbering man ready to fight a full-grown cougar stalking around your property like an animal… it did something to you. You try not to think about it, busying yourself with whatever unimportant work you can find. 

You ate by yourself that night, leaving out a plate for him. The next morning you woke up to him asleep on the couch with a full pheasant carcass completely cleaned off on the plate next to him. You find two more plucked and gutted birds in the sink too. Well… at least he liked your cooking.

When he woke up he immediately took the bandage over his eye off. You almost slapped him for being too hasty before you saw two perfectly matching topaz eyes looking back at you, the previous gash now thinned to a faint sliver over skin around it.

He left the cabin before you could do anything else, mumbling something about testing it out.

He’s been gone for hours now while you nervously scurry about your humble home, willing your thoughts not to drift to him. It’s useless, he encompassed every thought you had. Those strong clawed hands, his deadly swift movements. His—

You almost yelp when you hear the cabin door slam. You don’t turn around to face him, but you hear his heavy steps lumber back to the living room and collapse on the couch. There’s a heavy sigh as the couch creaks in protest. He’s relaxing. And, somehow, the air is so much lighter now. 

“Dinners ready,” you dare to speak up, pulling the probably overdone pheasants out of the oven. 

“Good,” he grunts before strolling into the kitchen. He takes an entire bird for himself again, not giving the accompanied roasted vegetables a second glance. You can’t say you're surprised, but it makes you smile a little. You join him in the living room once your plate is filled, sitting kitty-corner from the couch on your armchair. 

He didn’t even bother to grab a fork, pulling apart the bird and eating it down to the bone piece by piece. He really was an animal. You chose not to comment on it, quietly eating your own meal on the side. 

“What was that?” you finally speak up after a few bites, “Out there the other day. A cougars never come close to here.”

“My fault,” he simply answers, breaking one of the striped bird bones in his hand, “Territory dispute, should be fine now.”

“Okay,” You simply answer despite all of the swirling questions in your head. How can he act so casual after stalking your property like a goddamn tiger for an entire day? Because this was normal to him. This is just part of who Victor was.  

Don’t you know an animal when you see one?

You both finish the meal in silence, choosing to stare at the dancing fire instead of each other. The air felt charged. Heavy with something you’re not ready to admit to yourself. You take your plate to the kitchen before you say something stupid.

You almost scream when you turn around to find him directly behind you at the sink, too close for comfort. Christ, you didn’t even hear him walk up. He stands there, staring down at you with those glowing predatory eyes that are so mesmerizing. He reaches out and rests his hands on the counter on either side of you, caging you in. His massive body crowds you against the counter. You can feel your heartbeat start to quicken. 

“You think I don’t know what you’re thinking, little girl?” he all but growls out, “You think I can’t smell you? You’ve been driving me crazy.”

One of his hands comes up to your face, the backside of his claws running down your cheek. He was dangerous, a killer. You’re so close to it and it thrilled you. 

“What do you want?” his face is hovering closer to yours now.

“I—” You try desperately to hold yourself together, but you just can’t. Not with him, “I don’t know…”

He scoffs slightly, clawed hand coming down to rest on your neck. There’s no pressure in his grasp, but there’s the lingering feeling of control. You should be afraid, you should be absolutely terrified. 

“I know what you want,” his head drops to your neck, taking a deep inhale. You swear you feel the faint brush of his fangs against the delicate skin of your shoulder. “You wanna be fucked like an animal. Taken by a beast. Claimed… That what you want?”

The grip on your neck tightens ever so slightly as his body pushes into yours. You’re trembling now, but there’s no fear. 

“Yes.”

His mouth envelopes yours with a growl and you finally surrender to him, your previously stiff body melting into his. It’s not gentle. It's not sweet and loving. It’s possessive and a little terrifying— and it’s exactly what you want. 

He’s strong, you knew that the moment you saw him, but those rough hands are on you now and it gives his strength a whole new meaning. The steel grip of two clawed paws on your hips almost makes you wince in pain. His body is rigid against yours, a massive unmovable pillar. He’s in full control here. You still have almost no reason to trust him with your body like this, but for some reason you do. 

He shoves one of his massive thighs between your legs to the point of being forced to stand on your tiptoes. Admittedly, the pressure against your clothed pussy was delicious. His leg remains steady when you give an experimental roll of your hips. There’s a rumble of approval that stirs in his chest and reverberates straight down to your cunt. 

His lips break from yours with heated breath, taking a moment to pierce you with those damned glowing eyes before attacking your neck with his mouth. One of his hand's claws into your hair, pulling your head back to a near uncomfortable angle. The flat of his tongue drags slowly across your pulse before biting down. He doesn’t break skin, but that doesn’t stop you from wailing. 

At his mercy— you’re at his full mercy. 

You find a rhythm against his thigh, searching for some kind of relief from the building pressure at your core. You’re so wet already, you can feel it through your pants. The built-up desire. The almost all-consuming need for this man. You’d never felt this way for anyone, but again… there was just something about Victor that drew you in. A moth to a flame—or maybe a mouse in the mouth of a tiger.

“Filthy little thing,” He growls against you, “Jesus, you’re already so—”

All at once his intense presence leaves you, just for a moment. His knee drops and he releases your hair. He flips you around against the counter so quickly you almost lose all the air in your lungs. Even from behind his presence is still all-consuming— feverish almost. 

One hand still squeezes your hip while the other snakes around to the front hem of your pants. He paws at your clothed cunt, his middle two fingers lingering right over your clit. You can feel the pressure of his claws through your jeans. He holds his hand there, just for a moment. 

“Take them off,” His voice is hot and low against your ear. You do as he says, unbuttoning your pants and shimmying them down your hips along with your panties. 

His rough hands massage into the plush flesh of your hips while he lingers there, his reach eventually sneaks up your shirt, cupping your bare breasts underneath. He has you completely pressed against him, playing with you like a cat plays with their food. 

Every touch of his calloused hands is pure electricity. Somehow gentle and rough at the same time. He was an expert at this, you’re sure of it. You will your knees from shaking. 

One of his hands finally trails back down to your waiting pussy, slowly dragging his fingers through your drenched folds. He holds there, pulsing his finger ever so gently on top of your aching clit— that’s when your knees start to shake. 

“Needy little thing,” he almost praises into your hair, “Never thought you’d smell this— be this—”

He breaks, suddenly forcing you over the counter. You have just enough time to brace yourself with your hands. You’re on full display for him now, bent over completely with his hands on your hips. You hear the rustling of fabric and the heavy thunk of a belt dropping to the floor.

You moan so sinfully when you feel his velvet cock running through your folds. The wet, sloppy sound is practically pornographic. 

“Oh, Christ. Oh fucking Christ,” You hear him rumble as he lines himself up, “You ready for me, darlin’?”

You nod vigorously, bracing yourself for him to just slam in. To your surprise, he doesn’t. Instead, it's slow… agonizingly slow. You whine as inch by inch he takes you, savoring the feeling. You feel his grip tighten the deeper and deeper he goes. You squeeze your fists to ground yourself, being pushed to your absolute limit. He’s big. He’s fucking big.

“Relax,” He grits out, “You can take me, sweet thing. You can—” He cuts himself off with a moan, finally bottoming out. He pauses there, pelvis grinding into your ass ever so slightly. You hear his breathing grow heavy, and he draws out of you. 

He slams back in with force and you scream. You hadn’t adjusted to his size yet and there was a good deal of pain mixing with the pleasure. You’d never had anyone this big. You’d never had anyone like Victor, period. A few steady and purposeful thrusts later the pain wasn’t even a factor anymore. 

He finds a pace, pulling your hips back to meet him harder and harder. It feels good, god it feels heavenly, but you can’t help but feel like this isn’t what you wanted. You want to fuck him, but you don’t want him to just use you. To not be just some bent-over whore just taking it. Maybe you’re lonelier than you realize, or maybe you're just a romantic, but either way, you need connection. 

“W-wait,” you manage to gasp out. He stops immediately, buried to the hilt and pressing you almost painfully into the counter. 

“Fucking hell— what?” you can tell he spits it through gritted teeth. 

You crane your neck around, only able to see him out of the corner of your eye. He was like a black shadow behind you, completely silhouetted by the moonlight from the window. 

“Wanna— I wanna see you.” It feels so pathetic coming from your mouth. 

You see his posture shift. He hesitates a moment before pulling out of you. You whine at the sudden loss. You stand up straight with shaky knees and turn to face the black mass with glowing eyes. 

“I want to see you,” You repeat, running your hands under his shirt and over his bare torso. You feel his muscles tense in your touch's wake. “I want to look at you when you fuck me.”

Something rumbles in his chest before he grabs you again. He hooks his hands under your ass and lifts you onto the counter. He hovers there, his nose tracing over your face but never fully touching you. Your hands haven’t left him still, he lets you roll off his shirt completely. He stands before you now completely bare and waiting. You loop your arms around his neck. 

“Take me to bed, Victor.” 

He consumes your mouth again when he pulls you into him, lifting you off the counter like you’re nothing. He carries you down the hall and you somehow manage to finally shed your shirt in the fever of it all. It catches you completely by surprise when he drops you onto your bed, you hadn’t even noticed him walk through your bedroom’s threshold. 

You lay there, chest heaving while you gather yourself. He stands there, a faceless black mass again just barely highlighted by the light from the window— piercing eyes a blaze in the darkness. You swear you can feel their burning gaze running over your body.

Your legs hang open at the edge of the bed and he stands directly between them. His upper body crawls over yours, his movements are agile and fluid like a panther. You hook your legs around him, pulling him in closer and he hums in approval.

“Frail wants to watch me fuck her, hmm?” his hands run over your thighs, those claws so dangerously close to breaking skin. 

“S-stop calling me that.” you weakly protest, “I’m not frail.”

He simply chuckles in response, a deep throaty thing that puts your hair on end. 

“Sure ya aren’t.”

He comes down on one of your breasts, rough tongue dragging over your peaked nipple before taking it into his mouth. Your hands claw down his back and up into his hair. He’s so heavy on top of you. So warm. His tongue greedily rolls around your nipple and over your chest to the other side. His chest rumbles with lust against your stomach as he devours you alive. 

He slowly comes off you, those predatory eyes glossed over with need. He crawls down your body until he’s standing on the floor again. He grabs your thighs, yanking you further to the edge of the bed. He rests his cock on top of the mound of your cunt, lazily rolling it back and forth right over your clit. Tiny gasps escape you with every velvet hard stroke. 

“Big t-tough girl wants to watch me fuck her,” he purrs. You swear you catch his eyes rolling back from the sensation, “Okay, pretty girl… you can watch.”

In one fluid motion, he slams himself back into your dripping pussy. Your entire back arches off the bed, muscles tensing with your silent scream. You didn’t expect him to be gentle, you didn’t want him to be. 

He holds there a moment, savoring the stretch around him. He barely pulls out before rolling back, grinding his pelvis against yours. He grips your legs tightly around the thigh, claws completely retracted so his fingers can dig into the pillowy flesh— he holds you for dear life while he finds his rhythm. 

“J-Jesus, you’re so damn tight,” he grits out, “Pretty thing like y-you all alone out here not getting fucked good on the d-daily… it’s a damn shame.”

You think it’s the closest thing he can give to a compliment, but you're not complaining at the moment— he’s not calling you frail anymore. 

Tiny little gasps escape you with each thrust, your knuckles going white from gripping the sheets. He looms over you, this massive beast of man drilling into you like it’s the deepest primal urge— and it’s exactly what you wanted.

Looking up at him you feel so close to danger, so close to absolute demise, and yet you’ve never felt safer. Never felt more desired than you do when he looks at you with those glowing eyes. He might be a beast, an animal as he called himself, but he is yours. Right now he’s yours and he’s giving you everything. 

“Touch yourself,” he urges through gritted teeth, his movements getting rougher, “Wanna…. See you touch yourself.”

You immediately oblige, having been so lost in the sauce that you completely forgot your own hands were an option. You release a throaty whine as soon as your middle finger circles your clit. The contrast of your gentle strokes mixed with his rough thrusts was an incredible combination you’d never experienced before. You apply a little more pressure, gasping out at the new heat building in your stomach.

“You keep… you keep making those s-sounds and I’m not gonna last.” Victor’s hands trail up your legs, moving your ankles to his shoulders. You’d forgotten you were this flexible. His fanged mouth nips at the flesh of your calves, an attempt to drown all his senses in you. 

“Trying—” He moans against your skin, “Trying not to bite you.”

“T-then just do it,” You barely manage to gasp out. You're not so sure why you were so fast to reply to something so insane. 

Those gem-like eyes immediately shoot to yours. His teeth bare down on the flesh of your calf, but not enough to break skin. The sharp pain mixed with the all-consuming pleasure makes you squeal. His tongue comes out to soothe over the freshly raw area. 

“Not yet, sweet thing—shit— N-not yet.” You have absolutely no idea what he means.

Your whole body bounces up and down against the bed, his thrusts powerful enough to make your headboard slam against the wall. The coil was tightening now, the heat building to that amazing mind-numbing climax you were both so desperately searching for.

“V-Victor– I— I—” is all you manage to squeak out before it overtakes you with a thunderous snap. The massive man collapses on top of you, pulling you into his rough body as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm. 

“That’s it— t-that’s— give it to me,” He growls in your ear like a prayer, his hips starting to spasm out of rhythm. He sinks his teeth into your neck with a deep moan as his own bliss overtakes him. Again, he does not break skin. 

He still you both there, the wet slaps of skin against skin now replaced with breathy gasps and muffled moans. You feel him spill into you as you pulse around him. His body pins yours down like a weighted blanket until both of your pleasures are spent. 

His tongue laps over the indent his teeth have made just like he did with your calf. You think it’s his own primal way of saying sorry. Still, he refused to break the skin, and you wonder why. 

“Victor…” you whisper against his ear, running soothing hands down his massive back. A growl rumbles in his chest and reverberates into your own, rattling your heart between your ribs. 

“Not done.” you think he mummers against your neck.

“What?” You pause your hands at his waist. 

He sits up from you, those predatory eyes still just as hungry as before. 

“I’m not done with you yet.” he declares before dropping to his knees on the floor, dragging your lower half with him. You grasp at the sheets for dear life while he holds you balanced there, your leaking pussy right in his face. 

“Victor, what are you— ohhhh!” You’re cut off by the overwhelming sensation of his rough tongue dragging through your folds. He laps at you as you squirm in his grasp. 

“Taste so good together, darlin’,” he mumbles against you in between the ungodly wet sounds. His tongue delves into you selfishly, the wet muscle pumping in and out while his nose nudges against your clit. Your nerves are so overwhelmed you're not sure you even register everything he’s doing. He moans into you so aggressively you start to wonder if he’s doing this for him or you.

Surely feeling this good must be illegal, you think. Surely this man isn’t actually real.

You writhe against the overstimulation, but his strong hands hold you anchored there against him so impossibly close. His entire mouth closes over your cunt, that agile tongue narrowing in to dance circles around your clit. It’s too much. It’s not enough. 

“Pretty pussy like this needs to be licked every night,” He moans between laps of his tongue, “Every goddamn night.” 

“V-Victor— P-please— I can’t—” You attempt to plead before he interrupts you.

“Yes you can,” he says it like a demand, “You got one more for me. Please… need one more.” He’s begging for it. Begging for you to come. 

Yes, he’s definitely not real. You’re sure of it now.

His attention is back entirely on your clit now, closing his lips around and sucking— it’s your undoing. 

You grasp at the edge of the mattress, your entire body arching off the sheets as your second orgasm rips through you. Victor is unforgiving, his mouth and tongue drinking you in greedily and you uselessly squirm against him.

He holds you there for what feels like hours, enveloping himself in the mess you’d both made between your thighs. He can’t enjoy this, you think. There’s no way on Earth he can be enjoying this. Yet he holds you there until your muscles finally relax again, reveling in the mess you’ve both made together. 

He guides you down to his lap and you drag the sheets off the bed with you, burying yourself in his hairy chest. He pulls you into him without hesitation, his nose burrowing into your hair and his hand coming up to cradle the back of your head— A sharp contrast to how he was previously handling you. It's…. nice. Soothing away the pain of the numerous sins you’d surely just committed. 

You both lay back on the floor, bodies effortlessly curling in around each other. The bed seemed too far away now anyway. He brings the blanket up around you both, but it feels like a useless gesture. His body is all the warmth you need. 

You both lay there in silence for possibly eons, letting the electricity in the air settle until you can think clearly— though you’re not sure you’ll ever be able to again. You can’t help but feel like this absolute beast of man has changed everything now. This stranger that you’d rescued and brought into your home has left an eternal mark on your soul. This man you know almost nothing about.

Only a single question comes to mind.

“Who the hell are you, Victor Creed?”

His chest jumps under you with a small huff of a laugh. He lets the question settle in the air for a moment.

“Sweetie, you don’t wanna know.”

[sanjisleggy]

the siren and the sun (portgas d. ace x reader) [pt2]

a/n: i have been very obsessed with Ace recently :0c anyways here’s part 2! 

contents: brief mentions of death, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, pining!Ace, kidnapping (+ rescue), allusions to human trafficking

wc. 3.3k

wanna be on my taglist?

part 1 || part 3

i. 

you’d entered the forest hoping to die.

only a week had passed since your parents set sail on the open seas, claiming their yearning for adventure was far too strong to ignore any longer. “we’d bring you with us but you’re too young,” they said but even at the young age of eleven you knew they were more than happy to leave you behind.

the air was fresh–much fresher than the usual stink of the Grey Terminal–and dotted rays of sunlight shone through the thick canopy of leaves above. you could hear the faint running of water and feel the breeze brushing past your skin.

it was a pleasant experience but you still wished to die.

instead, you came face-to-face with a boy who had large round eyes and a straw hat atop his head.

you’re gently woken up from your sleep by the feeling of your mattress dipping and the sound of sheets rustling. the room is still dark, only barely illuminated by the moonlight shining through your window, and yet it doesn’t take much effort to recognise the culprit.

Ace crawls across the length of your mattress, tossing your blanket out of his way as he moves. his hair is tousled and his signature orange hat is nowhere to be found. once he’s close enough, he slumps forward and spreads his arms out–one of which plops right across your chest.

“y’know they’re just gonna drag you out again, right?” you mumble, shifting slightly to lay on your side to face the boy whose face is now planted downward on one of your pillows. Ace mutters something you can’t quite make out as he hooks his arm around you to pull you closer before his muscles visibly relax, preparing for sleep.

you learned the boy’s name was Luffy and that his caregiver had a habit of adopting stray children. upon sharing with your new friend your desire to no longer be alive, he’d simply called you silly and lent you his straw hat. you kept it on your head as he held your hand and led you deeper into the forest.

Luffy spoke the entire trip to Dadan’s house and had practically shared his entire life story by the time you reached the cabin. you didn’t share anything about yourself, content with simply listening.

Dadan yelled at Luffy for bringing home another random kid but stopped once she laid her eyes on you. though she maintained her scowl and crossed arms, you could tell she wasn’t truly as angry as she was pretending to be.

“whatever,” she said with a nonchalant wave of her hand, “stay if you want. you can’t possibly be as troublesome as Ace and Luffy are anyway.”

that night, without saying a word, she handed you a fresh set of clothes and a sleeping mat and pillow.

you listen as Ace’s breathing slows down and evens out. as usual, he’s out cold within the span of several seconds. you’d love to go back to sleep yourself but if the past week has taught you anything, you know someone else is about to show up in just a few more seconds.

right on cue, your bedroom door slams open and there stands a bleary-eyed Marco in his pajamas.

“how many times do we have to do this before you stop?” he groans as he shuffles over to the side of the bed where Ace is sleeping. the older man grabs Ace by the collar of his shirt–much like a mother cat would pick up their cub by the scruff of their neck–and yanks him off the bed.

“let go of me, you fuck!” Ace yells a split second after he’s startled awake. through half-lidded eyes, you watch him struggle to break out of Marco’s iron-grip as he’s pulled across your room like a sack of potatoes towards your open door.

“Ace can sleep with me, Marco, it’s alright,” you say, already missing the warmth, but all the first division commander does is shrug.

“Pops’ orders. ‘night, (Y/N),” Marco yawns before he shuts your door, completely unbothered by the young man wriggling in an almost feral manner. he swings his flaming fists around threateningly but makes no actual attempt to start a fight. 

you can’t help but drift off to sleep with a smile on your face and a funny tingling feeling deep in your chest at the thought of Ace’s desperation to sleep simply beside you.

Ace hated you the moment he laid his eyes on you. though he kept it to himself, not wanting to ruin Luffy’s fun of having a new friend, he despised your presence. no matter how he tried to look at the situation, he couldn’t help but feel as though you were trying to be Sabo’s replacement.

he hated how you tried to keep talking to him every day, gradually growing more bold over time despite his repeated rejection. 

he hated how Luffy loved swinging through the trees with you (he’d invited Ace before but the older boy called it childish and dumb). 

he hated how you actually listened to Dadan and helped out with household chores. 

he hated how you were so clumsy and awkward whenever Luffy invited you to explore the forest with them. 

he especially hated how you never cried even after falling down or spraining an ankle.

“let’s go fishing, Ace,” you chirped one day with a wide smile on your face. there was a bruise on your forehead from the day before when you tripped over a root. the boy merely scoffed and turned away, already feeling the burning in his chest that manifested everytime you tried to spend time with him.

“yea, let’s fish!” Luffy cheered, grabbing both your hands before taking off towards the nearest river. Ace didn’t fight it, telling himself he relented just because he didn’t want to disappoint Luffy. 

if his younger brother wanted so badly for you to join then so be it. Ace didn’t care.

it didn’t take much time before Ace realised he did kind of care–but only because for some reason you were so much better at fishing than he was and Luffy thought that was super cool. 

he gritted his teeth and stewed in his anger for a while longer, determined to keep his rising frustration under control but your laughter intermingling with Luffy’s just pissed him off. if looks could kill, you would’ve dropped dead from his glaring ages ago.

“you’re so fun, (Y/N)!” Luffy giggled and something inexplicable within Ace snapped. 

before he knew it, he’d snatched your fishing pole out of your hands and broke it in half before tossing it into the river. ignoring his younger brother’s pleas for him to calm down and be nice to you, Ace grabbed your shoulder and pushed you towards the cold running water. as you stumbled backwards, your ankle collided with something hard causing you to fall. you yelped from the shock and pain as you felt your clothes get soaked with freezing river water. 

Ace’s anger had mostly dissipated by then, only to be replaced swiftly by a deep sense of guilt. it felt like cold, frigid fingers were gripping his heart and squeezing with all their might. he could hear Luffy yelling at him but everything sounded muffled except for one thing: your crying.

ii.

there’s a bet amongst the commanders on how many attempts on Whitebeard’s life will it take for Ace to finally give up and join the crew.

it’s only been a little over a week since your reunion but most of the commanders have already lost since they made their bets assuming Ace was a sane person. the only three left in the game are Marco, Jozu and Vista–though, judging by the ruckus coming from inside Whitebeard’s room, you suspect Jozu might be out soon. 

the newly-replaced door flies straight off its hinges and into the ocean as Ace is once again thrown out of the room, his back slamming into the deck railing with a sickening thud. breathless, he lays on the ground for a few minutes, completely ignored by passers-by–at this point, it’s just another Thursday afternoon.

“hey,” you call out from where you sit on the deck floor with a book in your hands, just a few metres away. you can’t help but smile when you see how he perks up almost instantaneously. getting on his hands and knees, Ace shuffles over until he’s sitting right beside you, his thigh pressing against yours.

you were avoiding him and a part of him wished he didn’t know why. if he was in the dark, he could at least default to being angry but it was hard to ignore the guilt nagging at his brain whenever he saw the way you limped or the bruise that had blossomed on your shoulder.

Luffy had been mad at him, too, for the rest of the day for hurting his new friend. he’d only warmed back up to his older brother after nightfall when the two spoke in uncharacteristically hushed tones under the blanket. Ace wasn’t afraid to admit he’d done something wrong and that he felt bad about it, he just didn’t really know what to do next.

“how’s killing Pops’ going?” you ask, setting the book aside on the floor before you reach out to brush some stray strands of hair out of his face. he always looks so messy after trying to kill your captain, it’s endearing only because you know it’s probably the one thing he’ll never succeed in.

“not great, clearly,” he sighs as he leans against you while absentmindedly playing with the hem of your shorts. “i knew it wasn’t going to be easy but not this hard… why don’t we just leave together? we can find my old crew and you can be my second first mate.”

you chuckle at his offer. “i didn’t know it was possible for you to become even more stubborn than when you were a kid.” Ace’s pout grows deeper so you decide to appease him by combing your fingers through his hair–a habit you picked back up pretty quick after reuniting with him, much to his visible pleasure. “you already know i’m never leaving this crew. they’re my family.”

“i thought i was your family?” he replies, though he knows deep in his heart that’s not the most accurate word he’d use to describe your relationship–even back when you were children.

Makino was surprised to see a familiar face enter Partys Bar on a random Tuesday afternoon. thankfully, it was a slow day for business.

“how do i… say sorry to someone?” Ace asked, perched on one of the barstools with his eyes glued to his hands on his lap. Makino couldn’t help but smile at the innocence in his question.

“well, it depends,” she replied. “what did you do?”

“i hurt (Y/N). i got mad and pushed her and she fell.”

“did she do something to you?”

“... no.”

as much as she wanted to chide the boy for his actions, she could tell from the look on his face that he’d beat himself up over it more than enough already. besides, he came asking for help righting the wrong, who was she to deny such a request?

that night, Ace ran back to Dadan’s cabin with a handful of wildflowers clutched carefully in his hand. his heart pounded not only from the running but from the sheer nerves of what he was about to do. he rehearsed the words he practiced with Makino in his head over and over until he was certain he could recite them in his sleep. 

when he’d finally reached his destination, though, he was greeted by a panicked Dogra and Magra.

“(Y/N)’s been taken. Dadan and Luffy went looking for her!”

“of course you’re my family,” you tell Ace as you continue to scratch his scalp, chuckling when you see his eyes flutter close as he leans into your touch. “you know you’ll always be my best friend.” he ignores the sudden pang in his chest. “i just owe too much to Pops and the others. i know they won’t stop me if i try to leave but i’ve found my place here. this could be your place, too, y’know?”

Ace doesn’t reply but he doesn’t reject the idea entirely either like he would’ve done a week ago.

iii.

Ace is startled awake when he hears the sound of the door creaking open. setting his hand ablaze on instinct, he readies himself for a fight. ‘this is it,’ he thinks to himself, ‘the cards are off the table now. i knew the Whitebeard pirates were just putting up a front to get my guard down.’

“chill out, dude,” your voice floats across the room in a frantic whisper as you quietly close the door behind you. “it’s just me.” the flames engulfing his hand disappear instantly as he feels his initial apprehension melt into relief.

“what’re you doing here?” Ace asks in his own whispered tone, scooting over to make space for you on the small bed he’d been given as Whitebeard’s ‘prisoner’. “won’t your Pops get mad?” he feels his face heat up as he watches you make yourself comfortable, eventually settling down with your face just mere inches away from his as you both lay on your sides.

“Pops’ll never get mad at me, i’m his darling daughter,” you reply half heartedly as you snuggle your face into his pillow. the action causes your loose shirt collar to slip off your shoulder enough to reveal a scar Ace hasn’t thought about in a long time.

without a second thought, he reaches out to trace his finger across the marred skin. it’s a jagged line from the base of the side of your neck, perpendicular to your collarbone, ending just a few centimetres below it. it’s a weird place for a scar but he knows it’s real: he was there to witness the injury that caused it.

he’d found you trapped in the arms of an unfamiliar man as he held a knife to your neck. Ace could see the sheen of sweat covering your skin as you trembled, your fingernails dug into your captor’s forearm in a futile attempt to make him let go.

“drop the knife, asshole,” Ace warned, pipe at the ready.

“fuck off, kid! she’s mine! i’m gonna get off this fucking island and bring this bitch to Sabaody.” he laughed in an almost manical manner. “if her limp’s permanent, it might reduce her value but i know the Celestial Dragons love pretty girls.” 

you couldn’t help but let out a sob at the man’s crude words as well as the pain shooting through your re-twisted ankle. it was close to full recovering when you were snatched from the riverside where you sat earlier in the day, only to get hurt all over again in your struggle for freedom. 

the sound of your cries set something in Ace’s chest ablaze as he felt rage cloud every thought in his mind other than one: save you. with gritted teeth and boiling blood pumping through his veins, Ace charged at your kidnapper and swung his pipe.

“that was a crazy day, huh?” you mumble, feeling goosebumps ripple across your skin as he continues to trace his index finger over your scar.

“if i wasn’t so reckless, you wouldn’t have been hurt.” he bites down on the inside of his cheek as a familiar wave of guilt washing over him. you sigh and grab the hand that’s touching your skin, maneuvering it so that your palm presses against his. through the darkness of the room, you can see him smile a little as he curls his fingers, interlocking them with your own. as you expect, his skin feels warm.

“technically, your recklessness saved me from a lifetime of being a Celestial Dragon’s pet,” you point out. “i don’t think he was prepared to fight off a feral child.”

“how dare you call me feral,” he laughs.

“you were super feral! both you and Luffy. i was the only sane one, just ask Dadan.”

“sure,” Ace replies with a roll of his eyes, dragging out the word in a playful manner. 

“i really mean it, though. you saved my life that day, Ace.” you lower your interlocked hands to rest in between your faces on top of the pillow. “so you better stop getting all mopey whenever you see the scar.”

the man laid on the forest ground, beaten to a pulp. if it weren’t for the occasional rising of his chest, you would’ve thought he was dead. Ace heaved as he stood over the unconscious man, the pipe he used as a weapon now coated in blood and dented in several areas.

it had been a few minutes since the fight ended but the boy still breathed heavily and his hand still gripped the pipe in his hand so hard his knuckles were deathly pale.

“Ace?” you called out apprehensively from where you sat a few metres behind him, voice slightly hoarse from crying. you could see him tense up but he remained silent. “are you okay?”

the pipe fell to the ground with a muffled thud as he turned around, eyebrows still deeply furrowed. his eyes flickered to the hand you kept pressed against the junction between your shoulder and neck. without saying a word, he closed the gap between him and you before dropping to his knees.

“here,” Ace said, pulling out a handful of crumpled flowers. he held them up to you expectedly. “i’m sorry i hurt you the other day. i was mad at something else and took it out on you. please forgive me.”

dumbfounded, you found yourself staring at him for a few silent seconds. his lip was busted and his entire body was littered in little cuts and blossoming bruises. he’d nearly killed a man; and yet here he was.

Ace gulped when his apology went unacknowledged. he nearly even started to panic when he realised Makino hadn’t told him what to do if you chose to not forgive him. 

thankfully, you reached out and took the flowers as a smile stretched across your teary face.

his heart, which had been calming down after the intense fight, revved back up again as he felt something burst in his chest. a strange tingling feeling spread across his entire body and suddenly all the pain from his injuries melted away. Ace felt a warmth envelop his face and he nearly covered his cheeks with his hands–stopping himself only because he knew it would make it too obvious.

you’d fallen asleep with your hand still in his. your face was so close to his own he could feel your gentle breaths brush across his skin. although he himself feels the pull of sleep, he resists the urge for a little while more, needing time to gather his thoughts.

Ace thinks about his experience so far on the Moby Dick; how he’s been trying relentlessly to kill Whitebeard and yet everyone’s been treating him with such patience. hell, they’ve never threatened to slap sea prism stone cuffs on him even once. 

he realises he’s already familiarised himself with some of the commanders, namely Marco and Thatch; and how even though he’s been acting like such a brat, the two older men have still been nothing but kind. as much as he hates that Marco takes up so much of your time, Ace can’t deny how much chemistry you have with the whole crew and how much they seem to love you so sincerely and unconditionally.

could i have that, too, one day?

he recalls something you said during a conversation earlier in the day.

“i’ve found my place here. this could be your place, too, y’know?”

and suddenly the answer seems so simple. 

gen taglist: @irethepotato @i-reblog-fics-i-like @grierpilots @appalost @hyper-fic-ation @dressycobra7 @38lyra38 @chaseyui @paraparakiss

series taglist: @captainportgasdace @mitskisaveme @graveyardsweethearts @vaniiiavengeance @stuckinmymind22

[sanccharine]

01 | half of me

single parent au, neighbours au

pairing: single parent!san x reader   genre:  word count: 3.1k

warnings: cheating (not san !), swearing, angst

summary: 

status: ongoing  a/n: should i be starting something new when i have so much unfinished already ? no, but also who's gonna stop me HDKJFSFHDK sorry idk. anyway will fill in summary when my brain works. as always thanks @eternallyghosting for tolerating me

masterlist | chapter 2

The sigh you let out was deep. With it your whole body sagged, the ache in your lower back making its way up your spine even after you’ve twisted and turned to relieve it. There had been open seats on the train back home, but you decided to stand by the doors, leaning on the railing as you watched your city rush past you in a blur of yellow, blue, and black. You would’ve missed your stop if your body didn’t move on its own. Even though you were wearing your earphones, no music played. Instead, you wore them for appearances, so people would know to avoid you. Besides, the blooming pain growing in your temple wouldn’t allow you to enjoy music anyway. 

Today was less than ideal. Though you could argue that sentiment applied to a lot of your days in the last few months. Every single day felt like a slog, from the moment you woke up to the moment you entered back into the bed. Work was mind-numbing, and overtime was the only thing keeping you together, a routine you couldn’t shake, anything to avoid the end of the day so another wouldn’t start. 

Texting your parents every day as a full-time working adult felt like a joke, but it was worse when they called you asking to hear your voice, to know how your day was. What were you supposed to say? That you couldn’t stand it? That their love and care was a bother? Especially when every single coin they toiled away to obtain was poured into your well-being. Just like how every single drop of your blood, sweat, and tears was spilled into fulfilling every single wish they had. Student debt amounted next to nothing of the life debt you owe your parents. You could never escape them. 

There was a familiar burn in the back of your throat, the beginnings of a breakdown you couldn’t afford. With another sigh, you swiped your access key to enter your gated community. It was quite late in the evening, and people were beginning to wind down, most of the home lights were turned down or switched off. Though it was still early for your return home. 

Though it wasn’t even a home. It was only on paper. Your bed wasn’t even set up, it was merely a mattress on the floor for now. The mere idea of walking into your new house and coming home to the image of multiple unopened moving boxes made you want to turn around right now. But then, where would you go? 

Rolling your neck, your left palm came to massage your right shoulder as you waited for the elevator. The action was soothing enough that you could ignore the pain of your ring chafing into your skin through your jacket.

There was a mirror on the back of the elevator, you made sure to keep your head down. You didn’t have it in you to look at yourself right now. 

Though, your somberness was quickly thwarted. 

“Good evening!” a cheery tone said and stepped out of the elevator. 

Your head didn’t have to move much to find the owner of the voice. She was a young girl, no older than eight or nine years. Her stark black hair was in a braid that fell to the right of her face, tied with a purple scrunchie, matching the frock she wore. The young girl was holding a dinosaur-patterned purse in her left hand while the other was holding the elevator doors for you. The light in her eyes shining like stars do in the darkness, bright and unwavering. And her smile was just as radiant, it held a naive gentleness only a child could bear. It almost brought a smile to your face. Almost.

Dumbfounded by her manners, you mumbled your gratitude as you entered the elevator. 

“No problem,” she said, before bowing and turning to leave. 

You couldn’t help it. 

Slamming your left hand on the elevator doors before it could close, you asked. “Where are you headed this late?” 

“Just to the supermarket,” the girl turned around, showing the purse in her hands. 

The reason you decided to buy an apartment in this gated community was because of its security. Hence, gated. Every building all the way from the basement parking lot was accessed through keycards only available to residents. Cameras were abundant and covered every crevice of the compound while security staff roamed the compound around the clock. Besides, since the compound was so isolated, it held its own supermarket, restaurants, clinic, and support services. It was almost like a small town. 

You had no doubt this girl would be safe leaving and returning… right? She looked old enough to be responsible about this. And if her manners were any indication, she was clever enough to handle herself. 

But you couldn’t dispel your hesitancy to return home—no, to keep her safe. Tiredness from a long day seemed to vanish, almost as if you were doused with coffee. Should you accompany her to the supermarket? Or would that be weird? You were concerned for her safety, but also you were a complete stranger. In fact, if you did follow her to the store, you would look more like the danger you were trying to protect her from. 

Doubt caused you to halt, clueless about your next move. Fortunately for you, the young girl seemed to understand. 

“My father already ordered, I’m just going to pay and collect them,” she smiled, it was her attempt to assure you. But you remained frozen, hand still preventing the doors from closing, any moment now it would start beeping from being open too long. “You don’t have to worry, I’ll be quick. But you don’t have to wait for me though!” 

“Alright,” you mumbled, and her smile widened. “But be careful, okay? Look both sides before crossing the streets. And make sure all the things are there from your father’s grocery list. And make sure to get the receipt so you can check your change!” 

What the fuck are you doing?

The girl just nodded, her lips wobbling as she tried to suppress a smile. Great, this was ridiculous to the middle schooler as well and she was just indulging your pathetic antics. 

“I will, I promise! Thank you for worrying,” oh, she was so definitely trying to get rid of you. Perhaps, you should have just ignored her like you ignore most children. “Have a good night!” 

“You too, kid,” you mumbled, “get home safe.” 

The young girl skipped away after nodding, no doubt itching to flee from the weird, tired stranger who randomly stopped her from her chore and lectured her. Only after she disappeared from your sight do you let the doors close, and only after they close do you throw your head back with a groan. 

“Fuck! What is wrong with you?” you mutter to yourself, pressing the button for the eighth floor after swiping your keycard. “What is wrong with you? Why would you freak a kid out like that? What the fuck? What the fuck?”

Another groan escaped as you moved to wedge yourself into a corner, allowing the coldness of the metal sheet to soothe your burning forehead. You shut your eyes as you asked yourself the question again and again. Whoever was manning the security cameras must have one entertaining show. 

When the elevator announced your floor, you quickly straightened yourself. This complex was huge. The buildings housed almost twenty apartments per floor, and there were fifteen floors. The chance of coming across her again is quite small. You were hoping she forgets your existence altogether, but you plan on avoiding the public areas as much as possible to prevent seeing her just in case. You exited as normally as you could muster, not before chancing a glance at the security camera. 

The walk from the lift to your apartment was a small one, a turn and a few steps, and you were there. But it was enough time for your adrenaline from the interaction to settle and be replaced with exhaustion again. Every single emotion you felt in the last few minutes dissipated as quickly as sand in the wind, while a heavy weight pressed you further into the ground. Once again, your whole body sagged with a sigh, your height decreased as you held your keycard away from the door, just far enough that it didn’t scan. 

You could hear shuffling from somewhere, but the direction of the sound didn’t register. You knew the apartment opposite you was occupied—there was a black sedan in their designated parking spot—but it had been weeks since you moved, and you still hadn’t met your neighbour. Honestly, you were kind of grateful for that. 

You were in no mood to exchange niceties with some random person, at least not until an unfortunate incident forced you to meet. The neighbour seemed to share the sentiment, because if they knew you moved in, they didn’t seem to care, otherwise, you would’ve met them. You wouldn’t want to meet any of your neighbours either, in fact, you haven’t met any of them. Well, except just now with that little girl, who probably was a resident in one of the apartments in your block. 

The moment the door unlocked, your ears focused on the sound of shuffling. It was from your home. Every sense that had been switched off suddenly kickstarted again. Even when you reminded yourself again of the countless security measures in place and that there was no way someone could break in and enter this compound, you couldn’t shake the sense of danger. Your mind drifted back to the safety of the little girl, maybe you should have gone with her. 

You left the main door slightly open, a hint of light from the hallway coloured your dark apartment, showing the boxes stacked everywhere. Setting down your bag by the door, you grabbed the boxcutter on top of one of the boxes as you made it to the master bedroom at the far end of the hall. 

Then you heard his voice. 

And then, you heard someone else’s. 

A snort escaped you before your mind could even process what it was you were hearing. 

Perhaps, you would have preferred being stabbed to death by a robber instead. 

Too tired to care, you dropped the boxcutter to the floor and walked to your bedroom door to push it open. The sight should have shocked you, traumatized you, maybe, but you genuinely didn’t have it in you to be concerned. Instead, you folded your arms and cleared your throat. 

The woman underneath your fiancé was the first to shriek. 

In a panic, she shoved him right off the bed and he toppled over, a generous thud to cement his fall. You couldn’t even laugh at it since your mattress was literally on the floor because your bed frame was still in an IKEA box, sitting untouched in the corner. 

The woman was the first to cover herself up, pulling the bed sheet close to herself while your fiancé of three years—well, ex-fiancé, now—regained his bearings.  

The woman was also the first to apologise. 

“I’m so sorry—” her blubbering shocked you more than the fact that you caught the person, whom you thought would be your husband, cheating on your anniversary. When you turned to her, she opened her mouth again, trying to apologize, cover herself, and collect her clothes from the floor all at the same time. Though she never got the chance to speak.

“Babe, I can explain,” your eyes trained back on your ex, a pillow the only thing saving his modesty. “Let’s not make any hasty decisions, alright?” 

He cannot be serious. 

“Get out.” 

Silence engulfed the master bedroom. 

For an outsider, this tableau must look something like a Baroque painting. 

The stark difference in lighting, blackness only smudged by the dimmed bedroom amber, while the figures were dramatic and expressive—exaggerated to display the sheer absurdity of the scene. Mussed drapes, detailed wrinkles, dripping sweat and… unadulterated fear in widened eyes. 

Then the scene broke. 

“Let me explain,” he said, as you snorted again. “This is not what it looks like—”

“Get the fuck out. Now.” 

He opened his mouth but you shook your head, moving to the side to show him the door. 

“Out.” 

He followed the order, but much to your dislike, he was still attempting to speak. Though, his words fell on deaf ears. 

“You too. Get your clothes and leave, please,” you turned to the woman and she just nodded, rushing to get her clothes, broken out of her stupor. 

“What about my clothes? Let me just—”

Perhaps, if you gave a shit, you would have given him a verbal lashing. Maybe a smart comment asking exactly why he finally needed his clothes. But no, instead you kicked at the back of his knee and watched him stumble to the ground. 

He sent you a scathing glare as he picked himself up, still clinging onto his pillow, and made for the door. The moment he was out of the threshold, you slammed the door behind him, hard enough for the frame to rattle. He was banging on your door, asking to be heard, but you just made your way to the bedroom to see where the woman was. 

“I’m sorry!” She was tucking her dress shirt into her pencil skirt. Work. She’s from his firm. When she turned to look at you, it was surprising to find tears in her eyes. She was the last person who should be affected by the whole debacle, but she seemed to be the only one thinking normally. Or well, reacting. “I’m not—I’m not like that—wait, I mean, I wouldn’t have if he was—”

You shook your head, confused as to why she was rambling so much. She didn’t owe you anything. 

“No, no, you have to believe me, please,” she said, shoving her phone and earrings into her purse before grabbing her shoes. She continued when she passed you out of your bedroom. “I genuinely didn’t know he was married or engaged or whatever. He wasn’t wearing his ring, if I had known—” her whole body jerked as a sob escaped her. “I would never—I didn’t, I could never do that to someone. Please believe me.” 

“Hey, hey, calm down,” you said, much like how you’d coax a kitten out of its hiding spot. You walked her to the door and stopped when she did. “It doesn’t matter, okay? You don’t have to apologise for him—”

Hold on, what the fuck are you doing? She wasn’t your problem. 

“It really doesn’t matter,” you sighed, a hand on the door handle. “Please just leave.” 

She stared at you, a gulp passing down her throat. Her eyes were bloodshot and her make-up in ruins. She was taking you in as much as you were taking her in. And then she glimpsed at the ring on your left hand. 

“I’m so sorry, I really am,” you only nodded, unable to look at her as you opened the door. 

A hand gripped the door to push it open, startling both you and the woman. 

Unable to help yourself, your eyes shot to hand, and just as she said, it was bare, much like its owner. A derisive snort escaped you, before you banged the door close. Unfortunately, he reacted quickly and removed his hand. Opening the door just enough for the woman to leave, you shut it close again as soon as she left. In your hurry, you missed the feeling of someone watching you. 

After waiting for the beep to signal that the door was locked, you turned your back to it and slid to the ground. From your pocket, your phone cluttered to the floor, though you just ignored it and stretched out your legs in front of you. 

There was padding on the floor, you assumed it was the woman walking away. Your cheater of an ex was still muttering and mumbling, not that you cared for it. A few minutes passed, and then there was that padding of feet again. He left as well. Good. 

You only hoped that young girl made it home before she could see this mess of a man stumble out of the compound, completely naked.

The sigh you let out was deep. With it you let your body stretch upward until you were facing the ceiling, finding all the cricks on your neck on the way. For the first time, in a long time, your head was silent. Empty, just like your home. Here, you were on the floor, in the darkness, and surrounded by moving boxes—there should have been a strong sense of uncertainty, but you felt none of it. You didn’t know what you were feeling. 

You looked around, searching in the darkness for any answer. But there was none. No magnets on the fridge, no photos in frames, no ornaments on the table—and even if you unpacked, would there be anything? Anything at all, to make this feel like the home you actually wanted to return to. 

Today was less than ideal.

That instance had been the last nail in the coffin to really cement the thought. 

And yet, the sentiment felt different now. 

A small chuckle bubbled out of you, and then it was followed by another, and then another, and before you knew it you were laughing uncontrollably while your eyes were drier than sand. You were beginning to close in on yourself, your left hand coming up to soothe your right shoulder, to relieve you of any and all feeling when that ring pressed into your skin. Even through the clothes, it seemed to burn. 

In an instant, you were tugging the ugly ring from your finger. Stupid fucking thing wasn’t even the right size! With much effort, you were able to remove it and without another thought, you threw it into the darkness. The sound of metal hitting the ground was the only hint it landed. 

You waited for anger to spill out, instead, it was as if a huge weight was lifted from your shoulders. 

Finally, there were tears forming in your eyes. But then, your phone began vibrating. 

Light blinded your face but once it subsided, you read the caller that flashed across your phone. 

And suddenly, it was as if someone had dropped an anvil on your chest. A weight, tenfold of any negative emotion you’ve ever faced in your life, buried you whole and alive into the ground. 

How the fuck do you mention this to your parents?

any feedback is much appreciated.

a/n: does everyone collectively sigh when i write another fic with angst and a reader who is going through hell HFKSDJHFKDJS i'm sorry ;-;

masterlist | chapter 2

[livwritesstuff]

you know that feeling where you’re having a god-awful day and all you really want is a hug but you’re at work so, like, that’s not gonna happen, and you basically just have to stew in all those shitty feelings and wait out the clock? yeah, me too, that’s kind of where this came from.

Eddie had a tough day.

It had started early that morning when the girls missed their school bus – not a huge deal, honestly, he was already gonna be leaving early to go get his car looked at.

But then he got shitty news from the mechanic, and then a meeting with his agent didn’t go the way he’d wanted at all, and then Hazel ended up being a total pain in the ass after he picked her up from kindergarten, and during her relentless haranguing, she knocked one of Eddie’s favorite mugs off the counter. It shattered, obviously, and she cried about it so he’d had to deal with both of those things at once, and it was just a day.

None of it was anything he couldn’t handle – the problem was the compounding nature of it and the way he basically just had to stew in it all until the next obstacle came along and made shit even worse.

All Eddie really wanted was Steve, and how Steve being around made dealing with this stuff so much easier, even if every other circumstance was the same.

He has to share Steve, though, and today he’s sharing him with Steve’s work until four o’clock.

It’s fine.

He can wait until four.

The older two girls got off their bus at half-past three, and, seriously, someone must have put something in the water this morning because they are in rare goddamn form today. If Hazel alone was bad, all three of them together were…well, thrice that. It’s like the universe said I see your bad day and I raise you three elementary schoolers hitting their peak annoyance thresholds simultaneously.

And it’s not like Eddie can even fucking fold, either.

It’s cold and kind of windy outside, which is Eddie’s least favorite weather and he’d thought maybe the girls would want to go right inside, but no. Of course they want to dig out the chalk that got stashed away in the garage last fall, and while Eddie is stuck shivering outside breaking up dumb arguments about who’s allowed to use which colors (he figured the answer was an obvious everyone, but apparently that’s incorrect), Steve leaves a message saying he tacked on an emergency session onto the end of his day and now he’s not out until five.

Eddie doesn’t hear it until he’s back inside, obviously, but when he does it’s like someone ran a whole fucking dagger through his chest.

He’s halfway through making dinner when Steve gets home (he’d actually be done making dinner if the pot of water hadn’t boiled off while he’d dealt with yet another stupid argument), and he drops everything to meet him at the door.

It’s like Steve can tell in an instant the kind of day Eddie had.

“What happened?” he asks as he toes off his shoes.

Eddie shakes his head, “Everything…nothing…I don’t even know. Just…one of those days.”

Steve nods his understanding, and as soon as he’s got his coat hung up he’s pulling Eddie into a hug.

It ends up being kind of a bone-crushing one — that’s on Eddie, though. He’d just fucking needed it. He knows he’d needed it when Steve’s arms tighten around his shoulders and he feels that much better.

“You okay?” Steve asks without letting him go, the breath of his words hitting warm against Eddie’s neck.

“Just tired,” he answers.

Steve pulls away.

“You can take a break, Ed,” he says, and there’s something in his eyes – not concern, exactly, but more like awareness, “I’ll be up in a bit.”

Eddie just nods and heads for the stairs. As he goes, he faintly hears Steve asking, “What the hell did you guys do to Dad today?”, followed by the girls’ defensive protests.

In their room, Eddie makes it through one full rerun of Star Trek and then the first few minutes of a second before Steve joins him.

He notices that it’s quiet downstairs for the first time that evening, and he tries not to take it too personally. He’s always been comfortable in the knowledge that Steve might be better at the whole parenting thing than him (psych degrees and all that), but, shit, if he’s that much better…

“What’d you do, strangle them?” Eddie asks as Steve swaps his jeans out for a pair of faded plaid pajama pants.

“No, I told them that if I hear a single peep in the next hour I’m beheading all their stuffed animals.”

Eddie blinks.

Okay, maybe better isn’t exactly the right word.

“So they’re on verbal lockdown, basically,” Steve finishes.

“Jesus Christ, Steve,” Eddie shakes his head, “You’re kind of crazy.”

“Yeah, well, you were always gonna rub off on me one of these days — don’t.”

And Eddie couldn’t help the way he threw his head back and laughed.