#it's rough. i'm not used to writing so much.

[oneforthemunny]

hold my heart and watch it burn |ex-husband!eddie munson x ex-wife!reader|

prompt: your first christmas apart and it's proving to be a lot harder and lonelier than you thought.

contains: i mean, you know i'm gonna write christmas angst lmao. so angst. divorce. ex-husband!eddie. dad!eddie. mentions of loneliness. of fighting. language. holiday blues. divorce blues. just sad but a little better at the end? maybe? kinda?

"Jude!" Your voice drops, breathy with a stern hiss that your eight year old ignored, running ahead through the crowds of people bustling through the ridiculously busy Starcourt Mall.

Lucy's small hand in yours, you pulled her through the crowds of people, dodging a woman and her twenty shopping bags that swung when she turned, nearly taking you out.

"Jude Wayne, stop." A rare tone of your voice came out, void of it's usual lightness that you always used with the kids- a tone that you usually reserved for their father.

"Woah," Your shoulders tensed, fighting back a grimace at the squeal Lucy let out, wringing her hand out of your grip. Speak of the devil, you thought, lips pursing to hold back the snarl you wanted to give. You wouldn't, not in front of the kids, no- you'd keep it civil for them, even though you wanted to smack the smug, dimpled grin that greeted you when you did finally look at him.

"Hi, sweetheart." Eddie hummed, eyes rolling over your figure, hoisting Lucy on his hip.

Your lips twisted, fighting back an eye roll. "Hi," You snapped curtly, turning to Jude, bending at your knees to get to his level. "Jude, you can't run through the mall, honey. You have to stay with me-"

"-Ah, he was just excited, baby." Eddie grinned, nodding at the young boy, who looked so much like him. "Weren't you, Jude?"

"Yeah, Mama." Jude nodded, lips curling in a positively sweetly devious grin- just like his Daddy's. You could feel your heart melting already. "I just want to see Santa. I hafta tell him the things on my list or he'll-"

"-You will, Jude." You sighed, the start of a headache pulsating dully at the base of your skull. "We'll walk to the line right now, and you both can tell Santa what you want, ok?"

Jude nodded, still walking ahead in quick, excited steps. Your eyes cut to Eddie, looking past him towards Lucy. "Surprised you showed up on time." Your tone clipped, quiet enough that the kids couldn't hear but that he did.

Eddie scoffed, a snort of air. "Showed up on time to see my kids? That's not very nice." Eddie's tone stayed light though his eyes narrowed when they looked at you.

"The truth isn't always nice, is it?" You quipped, turning forward to look at Jude.

"You act like I don't come to every thing they do." Eddie retaliated, a low hiss in his tone that left your jaw clenching with a familiar bubbling rage. "Really trying to make me into the deadbeat dad, hm?"

"I can't make you into anything." You scoffed. "But if the shoe fits-"

"-You're really doin' this?" Eddie's voice dropped, jaw ground tight with irritation. "Really? Today you're gonna start this?"

"I'm not starting anything." You snapped, a little louder than you meant to, eyeing Jude and Lucy carefully. "You're the one who's usually late to things. It's a fact."

Eddie scoffed, a light airy laugh leaving his lips that made your blood boil, nails digging into your balled fists. "Please. You think I don't know what this is about?"

"What?" You snapped, brows furrowed at him.

"Oh, c'mon, you're pissed about Trina." Eddie turned, looking at you fully.

You knew he had to see the way your heart dropped, sinking into a burning pit in your belly, filled with ache.

Trina was a bartender at The Hideout, she'd been one since you and Eddie had started going, and one you'd always felt a little wary of. The way she'd giggle and bat her eyes at Eddie- she'd been a catalyst to a few fights when you were still together.

Last Saturday morning, Eddie was late coming to the house to get the kids.

"Rough night?" You giggled, his hair wild, eyes puffy with lack of sleep- a look you'd seen too many times before, one that was always a sign he was hungover.

"Yeah, sorry, I forgot to set my alarm last night. I went out, and got a little... ya know," Eddie had muttered, running a hand down his face. "Had to shower because I smelt like smoke and didn't want Lucy's allergies actin' up, and I had to take Trina to her apartment, then I had to get gas, and-"

"-Trina?" You'd nearly spat. "From-From The Hideout, Trina?"

"Yeah, we, uh, we kinda went out last night." Eddie wouldn't meet your eyes, looking anywhere but at you. "I mean, you've been goin' on dates, and... ya know." He lifted his hand, nervously running his fingers through his bangs, a habit he'd always had.

You noticed the gold band missing from his left hand for the first time since your wedding, stomach dropping as he walked in, greeted by your children's excited squeals.

You were sick in the bathroom after that.

Now, your stomach still flipped, still burned with a familiar nauseating ache. Standing in line, trying to feign excitement listening to Jude and Lucy babble on and on about what they wanted Santa to bring them, trying to ignore the spiraling thoughts that consumed your mind.

The same thoughts that kept you up at night, tear stained cheeks pressed into the pillow next to yours, that still smelled like Eddie- the one he'd slept on three nights before his date with Trina. Did he know he was going out with her when he laid there next to you? Was he thinking of her when he had slid into you that same night? When he kissed you so fiercely, so full of love that it left you dizzy, did he wish it was her instead?

A piercing wail of a infant cut through your thoughts, taking another zombie like step towards the front of the line. Jude was bouncing, eyes so wide an intense, honed in on the older man in a red suit juggling the screaming baby to a photo.

"What're you gonna ask for Luce?" Eddie hummed, bouncing the four year old on his hip with a grin.

"Play Doh," Lucy gave a toothy smile. "The ones where you can make the rings." She shoved her chubby finger towards Eddie with emphasis.

"Oh, you gonna make some rings for Daddy?" Eddie grinned, glowing from the inside out- damn him, he was a good dad. Your heart fluttered when he wiggled his own fingers at her playfully, rings shining dully under the white Christmas lights of the mall. "I've been needin' some new ones."

Lucy laughed, silly infectious giggles that had your lips tugging in a grin, your hand smoothing over the wool of Jude's jacket. "You ready Luce? You're next." You cooed, stepping up to the bright candy caned line.

A bored teenage 'elf' looked at you with a less than jolly expression, waving them over as the kids ahead went bounding towards the mall Santa.

"Stay with Jude. Hold her hand, Jude. We'll be right over here." Your voice tightened, not moving until her hand was in his, scampering towards the next marker. "Smile pretty!"

"C'mon," Eddie muttered, his hand softly on the small of your back. "They're good."

You glared at him, huffing and pulling away from his grasp. "Don't talk to me like that."

Eddie sighed, tired and bored. "Like what?"

"Like that," You sneered, voice low as you stood behind the gate with the other parents, watching their kids as they told Santa their lists. "You don't have to be so condescending."

"Condescending." Eddie rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, just like that." You snarled, turning away from him, lips in a tight, annoyed line. "Like you always are."

Eddie nodded, slowly, tongue running on the inside of his cheek. There was a tense pause, both of you looking forward wordlessly.

"Look, I don't know what pissed you off so bad, if it's the Trina thing or-"

"-Can you not do this?" You bit in a hushed hiss. "Watch your kids. Don't make this about us." Your chin jerked towards Jude and Lucy, who were too enthralled with climbing on the fake sleigh to look back at two of you, which you were thankful for.

Eddie laughed humorlessly, an airy, unamused snort of air and you could feel him stiffening beside you. "Fine."

The eye roll you gave was so fierce it left you with a headache between the brows, fingers tapping on your crossed arms, trying to ignore him- to be present for your kids, enjoy and embrace the moment, but dammit was it hard. When he always had to have the last fucking word. Flashbacks of countless fights spun through your mind like a rolodex.

You managed enough cheer to mask the tension, greeting Jude and Lucy with their waving candy canes. "Did you tell Santa what you wanted?" You cooed, a hand running over Lucy's head.

"Yeah," Jude hugged your waist. "I told him I'd been really good, but will you tell him too, Mama? When you talk to him later."

You smiled, warm with content at his childlike innocence. "Of course." You nodded. "Let me pay for your photo and you can take it to Papa Wayne-"

"-I got it." Eddie muttered, still not looking at you, already flicking through the bills of his wallet, handing them to the cashier dressed like a elf.

"Let me pay you my half." You frowned, slinging your purse forward, pulling the zipper.

Eddie shook his head with an eye roll, nodding at the cashier, before stepping to the side. He sifted through the change in his palm, plucking out two quarters and handing them to Lucy and Jude. "Here, go get something out of the gumball machine."

Lucy and Jude squealed with excitement, bounding towards the array of candy and toy machines in the middle of the mall, ignoring your shout of warning.

"They already have a candy cane." You looked at Eddie with a bored expression. "So you're giving them more sugar?"

"Jesus Christ, it's the holidays." Eddie huffed. "Thought this was your favorite holiday?"

"It is." You countered, arms crossing over your frame defensively.

"Then quit bein' so mean." Eddie shook his head. "Just 'cause you're pissed at me."

"I'm not pissed at you." Your lips pressed in a hard line. "Not everything is about you."

Eddie let out a laugh, teetering on mocking and mean. "I- you know what, I give up." He shook his head. "Stay in your foul mood, whatever."

His hand fell on the white envelope on the counter, pulling the small photo out, handing it to you. "Here. Merry Christmas." His words fell flat, filled with irritation. "I'll have them back by eight tonight."

You fought back a snarl, looking at the grinning face of your children on the glossy photo, two identical smiles that reminded you so much of the man you loved- used to love.

"C'mon, let's go see Papa." Eddie clapped, grinning at the kids. "Tell Mama bye." His eyes met your with a forced grin, teeth nearly baring at you.

You swallowed the growing lump in your throat, bending to hug each of them, pressing a kiss to their cheeks. "Be good, ok? Tell Papa I said hi."

Your eyes met Eddie's, a beat of silence between both of you, nearly challenging the other to speak first, to admit defeat. Neither of you did.

Eddie gave a curt nod, turning in the opposite direction with your children through the ever growing crowd.

You felt incredibly lonely, walking to your car silently, a sinking feeling in the pit of your tummy.

"Fuck-" Your fingers brushing the tip of the box, pushing it further back onto the shelf, away from your grasp.

Your annoyed huff echoed off the concrete of the garage walls, settling back on your tip toes. "Are you fuckin' serious? Ed-" Your words were strangled in your throat, heart dropping with sudden realization.

He wasn't here.

You should've been used to it by now. The house was empty, quiet even with the stereo playing. You'd turned it on, shoved a worn Christmas cassette tape in and tried to drown out the miserable silence that filled the house.

It used to be a tradition, just for the two of you. You and Eddie would drop the kids off at Wayne's going back home to wrap all the gifts you'd hidden. Eddie was always in charge of that, hiding them in the hard to reach, clever places around the house. You'd make hot toddies on the stove, Eddie would put on your favorite Christmas cassette without asking, and you'd spend the evening wrapping gifts.

Your first Christmas, Eddie had been so excited, positively beaming as you wrapped little onesies and teething toys- small gifts for Jude, but Eddie still boasted with pride. "Can you believe we're really doin' this? We're parents. Real parents wrapping real gifts for our real kid. Isn't- That's just fuckin' insane."

Now, you were alone, wrapping gifts for your kids and filling out the gift tag just to them for the first time in years.

The feeling was anything but joyful, sitting on your couch alone while Rudolph played lowly in the background. The hot toddy you'd made didn't nearly lift your spirits the way you hoped. No, if anything, it only made you feel worse.

Maybe it had been a mistake- the divorce. The thought had consumed you since you'd heard about Trina. Maybe Eddie was right, maybe the divorce was too much. Maybe you should have gone to therapy instead. Why else would you be feeling like this? Alone and miserable and full of regret. Were you just jealous? Was it the longer, darker days and colder weather messing with your mind? Or was it really that you-

"Hellooooooo!" Jude's sing-songy scream had you jumping, the hot liquid sloshing over the edge of the mug, splashing on to your reindeer printed pajamas.

"In here." Your voice was tight, not passing for the cheery tone you were hoping.

Two sets of feet bounded towards you as you set down your mug. Jude and Lucy came in, babbling with excitement about their day with Papa Wayne, still in their snow boots and coats.

"Mama, we saw Papa today an-and he asked me if I could make him some extra reindeer food so he can have some for his roof too, so Santa doesn't miss him." Jude jumped in your lap, eyes bright and wild as he told his story with excitement.

"Did he?" You grinned, unzipping Jude's jacket gently. "We'll have to make him some, won't we?"

"Yeah." Jude nodded, looking over at the tree. "Are those for us?" His eyes widened.

"Not until Christmas." You pointed at him. "Or I'll take them all back."

Jude pouted, eyes darting towards the screen. Your eyes cut towards Eddie as he helped Lucy out of her little snow boots, shimmying them off carefully and putting them by the door. The ache in your chest only grew.

You stood, crossing the living room towards the entry way. "Hey, Luce," You cooed, pressing a kiss to the top of her head when she flung herself at you. "Did you have fun today with Papa?"

"Yeah," Lucy giggled, hanging off your leg. "We gotta see the lights."

"The neighbors," Eddie muttered, his gaze not meeting yours, looking at Lucy instead. "They have a bunch of light displays now. Decked out the whole trailer. She really liked it."

"That sounds like fun." You smoothed a hand over her head. "Why don't you go see what Jude's watching? Let me talk to Daddy for a minute. Ok?" You tracked her as she bounded towards the living room, plopping next to Jude on the couch.

An uncomfortable silence filled the space between you and Eddie before you even turned around.

"So, um," You swallowed, rocking back and forth on your slippered toes. "Sounds like they had a good time." You lifted your head, looking up at Eddie.

"Yeah, they had fun." Eddie shoved his hands in the pockets of his jacket, eyes flickering from you to the frilly garland over the door. That same dreaded pause came back, filling the space between you.

"I'll head out," Eddie broke the silence, your heart lurching at his words. "I'll, uh, be back tomorrow morning, if that's cool? Stop by and-"

"-Wait," Your tone was fiercer than you meant it to be, Eddie's eyes told you that. "I-I just-" You turned towards the kitchen, heart hammering with a steady thud in your ears.

"I, uh, I made hot toddies." You swallowed your hammering heart. "Why don't you- I mean, if you want one, yo-you could stay for a while. Put the kids to bed, ya know, if you don't have plans or whatever." You muttered, cringing at how juvenile you sounded. You sounded like you were back in high school, stammering the same way you had when Eddie first asked you out.

Eddie's lip curled in a small smile, running a hand over his face. "Sure." He shrugged, shedding off his worn leather jacket. "Thank you."

You shook your head gently, turning towards the kitchen, ears ringing with the dull beating of your heart, barely registering the squeals of laughter from Jude and Lucy in the other room. You ladled the steaming contents into a festive mug nearly robotically, brain numb with the same swirling thoughts that made you feel like you were underwater- washing away in the strong current of your own mind.

Your slippers felt like weights, dragging your body across the hardwood floor towards the living room, passing Eddie the steaming cup. His hand brushed yours, sending your system flooded with electric excitement.

As you settled back into the cushions, your body relaxed- just for a moment. The kids were squealing, babbling and giggling about their afternoon with Papa. Rudolph still playing lowly in the background. Eddie next to you, sipping out of his mug. For a moment, the lights strung on the tree felt brighter, warmer.

For a moment, it felt like home again.

That sickening realization had your stomach lurching, pulling you back into the cruel reality that none of this was permanent. Eddie, the lights, the happiness- it was all temporary. It would be gone tomorrow.

You wished it wouldn't.

Your mind at war with itself, filled with conflict and regret as you tried to mask it, giving fake grins and exaggerated coos that half heartedly passed for truthful.

"They're finally asleep." Eddie's voice had you jumping, the mug slipping through your hands into the sudsy water.

You turned, chin hooking over your shoulder to face him. "You were probably right. All that candy wasn't the best idea." Eddie gave a tight grin, his eyes sparkling dully, just enough to have your heart skipping. "They got even more at Wayne's too."

"I told you," You sighed softly, a playful hum in your tone. Still, it wasn't convincing enough, not for Eddie.

Eddie frowned behind you. "What's goin' on with you?" He didn't miss the way your spine went rigid.

"What?" You voice pitched, high like it was when you were lying- when you were hiding something. That hadn't changed since high school.

"Don't- c'mon." Eddie gave a soft huff, accompanied by an eye roll. "Just tell me what's goin' on."

"Nothing's goin' on-"

"-Don't lie to me." Eddie scoffed, shaking his head. "I've known you too long. You think you can lie to me and I won't know? Please."

Your lips tugged in a smile you tried to hide, turning back towards the dishes you were finishing up. Eddie moved beside you, hip leaning on the counter next to you.

"What's on your mind, baby?" His voice was so gentle- you hated that it was exactly what you needed, that he knew it was exactly what you needed.

You swallowed the ever growing lump in your throat, fighting the swell of tears that was already forming.

"Hey, c'mon, sweetheart," Eddie's hand pressed to your cheek, cupping it sweetly, his rings pressed to your skin. "Talk t'me, baby. What's goin' on?"

"Nothing." Your voice was as strained as the words you struggled to get out.

"Baby," Eddie eyed you playfully. "I know we're not together anymore, but I still know you and you can- what's wrong?" He froze, his hold going rigid at the first shake- a tremble of emotion that was a telltale sign you were about to break.

"Did I say something? I was just- hey, don't cry. Don't cry." Eddie cooed, gathering your face in his hands, pulling you towards him.

Your lip trembled, biting back a sob that tore its way through anyways, vision flooding with tears that built on your waterline.

"Is this- Is this about Trina? Because I didn't- Nothing happened, we just went out. Well, I mean, she kissed me, but I didn't- I really didn't-" Eddie's voice rose in panic, rambling, frantic at the watery sob you let out.

"Please, hey, please don't cry? I'm not- fuck, baby, I didn't- I thought it would be ok, be-because you'd been on a few dates, and I thought it would be a good thing."

"It is." You blubbered, sniffling wetly, wiping your eyes with the back of your rolled pajama tops.

"Then why are you crying?" Eddie frowned lightly, pads of his thumbs wiping over the apples of your wet cheeks catching your tears.

"I just..." Your eyes pinched shut, jaw clenching to keep in another sob. How could you tell him? You couldn't. You knew you couldn't, even though you wanted to so badly.

"Just what?" Eddie's voice dropped. "Tell me."

He could feel your trembling breath, his own heart squeezing with constricting fear before you spoke.

"I just... I miss this." Your voice cracked, eyes squeezing shut. You couldn't look at him, couldn't bring yourself to see his reaction.

"I-I didn't know how much I would miss just... just us all being together, and I really fuckin' miss it, and I think," Your breath hitched, heart stilling entirely with hesitant fear.

Eddie held his own breath, eyes wide, looking at you with a wild gaze like he knew what you were going to say.

"I think," You swallowed around your words, strangled in your throat. "I... I made a mistake."

Eddie's heart leapt so fiercely he thought it tore through his rib cage. His body eerily still, unable to move.

"I didn't know you going out with someone else w-would make me feel... this bad, and," Your eyes shone, the strung lights in the kitchen catching in your tears. "And I've really missed you."

"I've missed you too." Eddie's lungs constricted with those words, feeling breathless and light headed.

"I don't like spending the holidays without you." Your voice squeaked, teary and upset, face crumbling with the admission you'd been holding in for too long. "I don't- I don't like being without you, an-and I think I made a really bad mistake and I-I'm sorry, Eddie, I'm so-o sorry-"

Your teary face pressed to the soft material of his t-shirt, your cry muffled into his chest. Eddie held you close to him, as tight as he could, his own head spinning now.

He'd dreamt of this, longed for this moment since you'd fist served him the papers. The day had finally come, one he thought he'd only see in his head- you coming back to him, taking it back, taking him back.

Only it didn't feel as triumphant as it did in his head.

Not with you sobbing into his arms. Not with his head spinning so fiercely he thought he might still be dreaming.

"It's alright," Eddie soothed nearly robotically, staring ahead out the window towards the darkened street as he soothed your sobbing apologies. "We'll- We'll figure it out, baby. We'll be alright."

Every time you both felt like you found your footing, finally on stable ground, you were back here- falling with horror back into uncertainty.

Even as Eddie held you in the kitchen, or later when he slipped into bed with you, both of you whispering and sniffly under the sheets, it wasn't new but it wasn't the same as it was before.

You weren't sure if it would ever be the same as it was before, if you'd ever have what you had before. Even if you replicated the same traditions, hung the tinsel in the same place, retraced your footsteps exactly as you did the year before; it would never hold the same feeling as it once did.

[zyafics-recs]

reblogging comment review by @zyafics

LITERALLY FINISHED AN ASSIGNMENT AND NOW I CAN TAKE A BREATH LETS GOOOO (long annotations below ⬇️)

Arrogant, volatile, downright psychotic — Rafe was a walking disaster.

my psychopath lets gooo

The cabin was small and sparsely furnished: a bunk, a tiny porthole high on the wall, and a single chair bolted to the floor.There was a faint hum of the ship's engines, a constant reminder that you were far from land and any chance of immediate rescue.

ur descriptions paints the scene of s2ep10 when they were on the ship so well, like i remember staring at your words going: wow 😦

"They left. Now, you're my problem. Lucky me.""Now, what am I going to do with you?"

why r all the crazy ones so fine

“To you? Or Ward? Do you only get this cocky when daddy’s not around to rein you in?”

i love LOVE when the reader provokes rafe using his father like bro that's such a trigger for him rein it in 😭

The punch came so fast, you didn’t see it coming. Pain exploded across your jaw, and you tasted blood. He grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him. “You don’t fucking talk about her, dirty pogue. Ever.”

YOOOOOO 😡

The path led deeper into the heart of the island, the dense foliage casting long shadows as the sun began to set.

god, i love ur descriptions so much u don't understand i'm taking notes as i read this 📝

He blinked, momentarily thrown off guard by your words, “Stay out my fucking way or I’ll kill you myself.”

i love how much of a psychopath he is in this fic, like yes, this is the crazy man of s2 (i can fix him 🤞🏻)

He was a product of his environment, molded by a father who saw him as nothing more than a means to an end.

YES, i love maybank!reader's deep analysis of rafe bc we know and that doesn't excuse his behavior but it helps us understand him 🥹

But beneath it all, there was something else. Something you’d seen before, when you looked at yourself in the mirror after you took the biggest beating of your life and Luke finally got thrown into jail: hope. 

i love her lore so so much!!

And you began to see a way out, not just for yourself, but for Rafe too.

she's a love not a fighter fr 😩

"Because he's family. And sometimes, family is all you have. Even when they’re terrible, even when they hurt you, sometimes you can’t just walk away.""Family's supposed to be everything, right?"

my daddy issues babies, sometimes i wanna push u two together like barbie and ken during play sessions (am i making sense idk anymore)

The sight of the blood staining your arm made his expression shift from bewilderment to fury.

I LOVE LOVE LITTLE DETAILS LIKE THIS

“Shut up. Just… shut up.” He turned back to you, his eyes softening slightly as he took in the sight of your injured arm

he has a heart !!!!

"So this is all about you, then? Your precious ass and how it looks to Ward? Typical Cameron bullshit, only caring about themselves."You don't know what you're talking about," he said, his voice dangerously low. "You think this is easy for me? Keeping you safe, dealing with all this? It's not just about me. It's about keeping everything under control."

one of the things i admire so heavily with your writing is ur ability to write tense dialogues, the way they fight back and forth with words!! like i love it so so much!!

"You're impossible," he hissed, his voice a raw whisper."And you’re a coward," you shot back, your voice equally low but no less fierce.The next moment happened in a blur. Rafe’s grip tightened, and before you could process what was happening, his lips crashed into yours with a ferocity that left you breathless.

LOVE LOVE A HATE KISS

The kiss was rough and desperate, fueled by anger and frustration, a collision of two souls too damaged to recognize the depths of their own pain.And yet, beneath the layers of animosity and resentment, there was a spark—as if you were both too messed up to understand how much you needed each other.

the poetry!!! shakespeare!!! u can write hamlet but can william write this?!?!?

"You're impossible," he muttered against your lips, the words barely audible over the sound of your heavy breathing."And you’re an asshole,” you shot back, your voice breathless, your body arching into his touch.He pulled back just enough to look at you, the tip of his nose brushing against yours slightly "Drive me fucking crazy.”

i love when they're making out but they find ways to take shots at each other "I hate you," you panted, pouring as much venom into your words as possible. Your thighs tightened around his hips, feeling every inch of him against you. “Your body doesn’t,” He replies coldly, each syllable slowly drawn from his throat, "“Fucking asshole.”“Fucking brat.”

he's such a prick 😭 i want him in my bed

"Eyes on me,” he growled, his voice rough and commanding. "Let me see you.”

one of the hottest things a man can say to me

“Y-You—“ He sighed, pausing, “Don’t pull that shit again. I’ll get you out, okay? 

one of my favorite scenes got me kicking my feet like a school girl (dude u CARE stfu 😭)

“We’re getting out.”You wanted to believe in him more than anything. In that moment, it was the only thing that mattered, “Yeah?"“Yeah, pretty Maybank. You and me."“Okay.”“Okay.”

I'M OBSESSED WITH YOUR WORDS OH MY GOD

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

FINAL THOUGHTS | okay okay, let me catch my breath because that smut (their banter!!) was so fucking hot 🥵 (why do i use emojis like a middle school boy? anyways) i think what i truly noticed from this fic is how compelling you can make a scene. the way you built transitions so seamlessly through strong descriptions about what's going on (plot wise!) and it's such an admirable skill that i deeply deeply wish i have. especially because the language and vocabulary you use are so clean and expressive without making the audience (like me) feel dumb about not knowing the definition (does that make sense?) also also. as i always point out, i'm obsessed with your build-up dialogues. right before we hit the intense parts, you manage to build up this anticipation and adrenaline from reader and rafe arguing back and forth. and what i appreciate is how you kept the enemies part of enemies to lovers all the way through, only concluding that reader feels complicated near the end. like i love that she didn't fold; she continues to be defiant and her and that brings me to another trait i love about ur writing: ur consistency in your readers. if u plan on making a certain reader rebellious, you keep it to the very end and i love that. oops, this is getting a little too long. anyways, as always, incredible work gigi, i would love to see more of maybank!reader from you especially a second part to their escape (and what it means for them to be back in obx together?? her brother's reaction?? 🫠)

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

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

WARNINGS: maybank!reader; kidnapping; smut!; violence!; rafe is a red flag; guns and blood; p in v; they tell each other to shut the fuck up a lot lmao;

word count: 8k...im sorry

The sun dipped low, painting the Outer Banks marshes in shades of fiery orange. Tensions between the Kooks and the Pogues had hit a fever pitch, and in the middle of it all? Rafe Cameron, the last person you'd want to encounter. Ever. 

Every run-in with him left a bitter taste in your mouth, lingering for days. It was like he had a knack for getting under your skin. Arrogant, volatile, downright psychotic — Rafe was a walking disaster. Each interaction with him sucked the life out of you. You were convinced that nothing good could ever come from being around him. And yet, there you were, another Maybank, caught in the chaos of the island's most influential family feud.

You knew the risks, but loyalty drove you forward. And now? Well, now you were in deep shit.

Your plan had been reckless, fueled by the desperate need to save Sarah from her deranged family and retrieve Pope's stolen cross. Everything had gone smoothly until chaos erupted, and you found yourself abruptly yanked away from the corridor by a strong grip on your arm, before you could even call out for your brother and Kie. Another hand clamped over your mouth, stifling any attempts to scream. In a blur, you were dragged into a dimly lit cabin, the men's hold on you unyielding. Struggling was futile against his iron grip. He tossed you inside, slamming the door shut and locking it behind him. The gravity of your situation hit hard immediately – you were alone, at the mercy of Ward Cameron. The man who'd silenced anyone who dared oppose him, even going as far as faking his own death, kidnapping his own daughter, and manipulating his son into committing murder. 

Because in his twisted world, family trumped everything. Even murder.

Your mind raced as you took in your surroundings. The cabin was small and sparsely furnished: a bunk, a tiny porthole high on the wall, and a single chair bolted to the floor. There was a faint hum of the ship's engines, a constant reminder that you were far from land and any chance of immediate rescue. You quickly assessed your options. The door was solid, and you didn't have anything strong enough to force it open. Fuck, fuck fuck. 

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. Panic wouldn't help; you needed a plan. But then, like a nightmare come to life, the devil himself stepped into the room, his eyes piercing as they landed on you. The man who had captured you stood behind him, a smug grin on his face. 

Rafe was visibly surprised to see you, but he quickly concealed it behind a cold, calculating expression. His forehead glistened with sweat, his hair damp and sticking to his temples. His shirt clung to his back, soaked through from the scorching heat, and beads of perspiration trickled down his face. He wiped his brow with a weary hand and his gun gleamed ominously in the dim light.

"Well shit,” Rafe said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Look what we have here. Didn't expect to see ya again so soon pretty Maybank.”

You tried to keep your expression neutral, but your mind was racing with questions. Where were your friends? Were they safe? Was your brother even alive? Before you could ask, Rafe continued, his tone mocking. 

"Your brother really did a number on you, huh? Left you behind without a second thought. Typical Maybank shit, huh? Always knew you were unreliable."

Son of a bitch. You clenched your fists, fighting to keep your composure. "You're lying," you countered, your voice steady despite the fear gnawing at you, "He wouldn't leave me."

Not unless he was forced to.

Rafe chuckled, a dark, humorless sound. "Believe what you want. They left. Now, you're my problem. Lucky me."

“You’re lying.”

His eyes gleamed with a dangerous glint as he advanced towards you. You took a step back, but there was nowhere to go. The cold, metal wall pressed against your back, mirroring the chill that had settled in your bones.

"Now, what am I going to do with you?" he mused, tilting his head as if genuinely contemplating your fate. The gun in his hand swung lazily at his side, but you knew better than to think it wasn't ready to be used at a moment's notice. You swallowed hard, your mind frantically searching for a way out of this hellhole. He was unpredictable and volatile; years of snorting cocaine and family trauma did that to some people. 

But maybe, just maybe, you could reason with him. 

“Rafe, listen. You don't have to do this. Let me go and we can both walk away from this. No one has to get hurt."

Again. 

His laugh was sharp and bitter. "You think I'm going to let you go just because you asked nicely?" He stepped closer, his breath hot against your face. "Nah. You're going to stay right here until I decide what to do with you.“ 

You tried to keep your breathing steady, but fear clawed at your chest. The odds were against you, as they had always been your entire life.

"What do you want, Rafe? The cross? We can make a deal."

His eyes narrowed, the amusement fading. 

"You think this is about money? About that fucking cross? This is about power. Control. And right now...huh, shit, I control you." He leaned in, his voice a deadly whisper. "The cross is mine now. How do you feel about the Bahamas?”

Your top lip curled in disgust, “I’d rather drown.”

His smile twisted into something even darker. “I think you’re worth more alive, at least for now.”

You refused to show him any more fear. “To you? Or Ward? Do you only get this cocky when daddy’s not around to rein you in?”

Rafe’s expression hardened, and for a moment, you thought you’d pushed him too far. He leaned in close, his eyes cold and unforgiving. 

“Watch your fucking mouth, Maybank. You don’t know anything about my family.”

You laughed bitterly, unable to stop yourself. “Yeah, no. You're right. Just that you're dad’s little lapdog, doing his dirty work while he pretends to be some upstanding citizen. And where’s your mom in all this? Oh! She left.”

The punch came so fast, you didn’t see it coming. Pain exploded across your jaw, and you tasted blood. He grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him. “You don’t fucking talk about her, dirty pogue. Ever.”

Anger took over you like wildfire, burning hotter than the pain. Your jaw throbbed, but the rage was stronger. You wanted to hit him back, to wipe that smug look off his face, to make him feel the hurt he had inflicted on you. Your fists clenched at your sides, every muscle in your body taut with the desire for retribution. The fury in your eyes matched the darkness in his.

You spat blood at his face, glaring up at him defiantly. “You’re just a puppet. Your sister hates you, your dad uses you, and deep down, you know it. You’ll never be more than his bitch.” 

His grip tightened painfully, rough fingers digging into your flesh, lips twitching into a snarl, but you didn’t flinch. If you were going down, you’d go down fighting. His eyes flickered with something you’d never seen in him, before he released you, stepping back. “You think you’re so smart, don’t you? So tough.”

“Smarter than you,” you shot back. “At least I know who I am. What are you, Rafe?“

He stared at you, tongue pressed against his cheek, eyebrows furrowed. Then he laughed, a harsh, grating sound that sent chills down your spine. His hand reached out, and your breath stilled throat tightening as he fiddled with a lock of your hair. He’d let out another laugh, entirely dismissive of the trepidation you’d felt stuck.

“You’ve got guts, Maybank. It's gonna get you killed.“

You wiped the blood from your mouth, meeting his gaze with unwavering defiance. “I’ve survived worse than you.”

And you had. If anything prepared you for violence, drugs, and pain, was living with Luke Maybank your entire life. And maybe, if you didn’t hate Rafe with every fiber of your being, after everything he’d done, you’d feel sorry for him. But you didn’t, and he sure as hell didn't feel sorry for you. 

For a moment, the room was silent except for the low hum of the ship’s engines. Then Rafe turned on his heel, motioning to the man by the door. “Watch her. Make sure she doesn’t go anywhere.”

“Do I look like fucking Michael Phelps? Where the fuck would I go? We’re on a ship you crazy bastar—Hey! Rafe! Open the fucking door!” 

The door slammed shut behind him, the sound echoing through the small, dimly lit cabin. You listened to his footsteps fade away, feeling a sense of relief and dread settle in your chest. What the fuck had you gotten yourself into? They could kill you, dispose your body in the ocean and no would give a single fuck. No one would think you’d gone missing, because you’re a Maybank and that’s what your kind of people did, apparently. Your brother would probably assume you’re dead, he’d try to get justice and fail in the end, because the rich always won.

The musty air of the cabin felt oppressive as you turned away from the small porthole, where the bright sun and endless expanse of blue ocean taunted you from beyond. Days had melded into one another, each marked only by the arrival of meals and the sporadic presence of Rafe. You had hoped for some sense of clarity, some hint of what your future held, but his visits offered nothing but insults and foreboding silence.

You paced the small room, your mind racing with the possibilities of what they had planned for you. The guard remained a silent sentinel, a constant reminder that escape was not an option. But then, the cabin door creaked open again, and you tensed as Ward Cameron stepped in, his presence commanding immediate attention. 

He gave a nod to the guard, who stepped out, leaving you alone with the man who held your fate in his hands. A fucking lunatic with enough means to play for all the dramatics he enjoyed. Great.

"Get comfortable," Ward said, his voice smooth but carrying an edge that set your nerves on edge. "We're almost there."

"Almost where?" you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

"The Bahamas," he replied, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "A little slice of paradise, if you will."

"And what happens then?" you pressed, needing to know more.

Ward studied you for a moment, as if weighing how much to reveal. “Keep out of sight, stay quiet. Rafe and I have some business to attend to, and we can't afford any distractions."

"And if I refuse?" you challenged, though you knew the answer.

Ward's smile widened, but there was no warmth in it. "Let's not be stupid, sweetheart. You're here because you know too much. Refusing isn't an option. Cooperation, however…”

A chill ran down your spine at his words. The stakes were clear, and you realized that your only chance was to play along, at least until you could figure out a way to escape this nightmare.

The rest of the day passed in a tense haze. Eventually, you felt the ship slow, the engines quieting as you approached your destination. When the door opened again, Rafe was there, his expression unreadable.

"Time to go," he said simply, motioning for you to follow, "Move."

You stepped out onto the deck, the warm, salty breeze hitting your face as you looked around. The sight of the lush, tropical landscape did little to ease your anxiety. You were led to a smaller boat, and soon you were speeding towards a secluded island, the main landmass of the Bahamas visible in the distance. This was a world away from the familiar streets and faces of The Cut. It was straight out of a postcard. Something you and JJ would fantasize about while high of your asses and writing bucklists. 

God, JJ. You only hoped he made it. You’d never gone a day without each other before you were dragged into this mess last summer. It wasn’t fair. You only wanted enough money to get by, an easy fix to get everything sorted, finish college, ship your dad somewhere far away from you two. But Ward’s greedy ass had to ruin everything for you. 

As the boat neared the shore, you couldn't shake the feeling of impending doom. The island loomed closer, its pristine beaches and swaying palm trees offering a stark contrast to the danger that lurked just beneath the surface.

Rafe’s hand gripped your arm, his grasp tight and unyielding as he led you onto the sandy beach. Ward followed close behind, his expression unreadable as he surveyed the scene before him.

"This way," he said, his voice cutting through the sound of the waves crashing against the shore. You followed obediently, your mind racing with possibilities. Escape seemed unlikely, but you clung to the slim hope that you could find a way out of this mess. As you walked, you couldn't help but wonder what awaited you on this remote island.

The path led deeper into the heart of the island, the dense foliage casting long shadows as the sun began to set. You could feel the weight of Ward and Rafe's gazes on you, their presence a constant reminder of the mess you were in.

Finally, you reached a clearing, and your heart sank as you saw what awaited you. A small house. In the middle of nowhere. Oh god, you were a dead woman. 

“This will be your home for the time being," Ward said, his voice cold and unfeeling, as if he was offering you a vacation rental and not kidnapping you. You wanted to protest, to demand answers, but you knew it was futile, there was a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach, it practically swallow you whole. 

“My son will be keeping you company, don’t get too excited.” 

The way Rafe’s head snapped in his father’s direction told you more than what you needed to know. Once again, daddy dearest was calling the shots without taking his opinion into consideration. Ward’s casual cruelty was suffocating, a stark reminder of the power he wielded over everyone. As he turned to leave, leaving no space of negotiations or pleadings, Rafe’s eyes bored into yours. No questions asked, only blind devotion to his father. 

The door slammed shut, leaving you alone with Rafe once more. He looked at you, resentment playing across his face and something inside you urged you to fight. 

“I’m not going to make this easy for you," you said, your voice a low growl, “I’m not dying here. Not with you.” 

Rafe chuckled, greasy bangs moving as he shook his head, “You really think you have a choice here?” He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming in the confined space, “You think you’re special? Nah, Maybank. He’ll get rid of you eventually, don’t worry.”

“Exactly. He will, not you. You don’t have any control either and I think you hate being here as much as I do. That shit makes us both prisoners.”

He blinked, momentarily thrown off guard by your words, “Stay out my fucking way or I’ll kill you myself.”

You were sure he wouldn't, only if Ward asked him to. He’d fucked up enough before, when he accidentally shot Sarah and didn’t look the slightest bit apologetic. You know he wouldn’t do it again, not if he wanted to keep his head on his shoulder and his trust fund. Ward Cameron hated slips ups, hated even more the monster he raised, but he sure came in handy when he needed him. 

Rafe’s words hung in the air like a noose, but you refused to let them tighten around your neck. "Empty threats," you shot back, squaring your shoulders. "I've dealt with bigger monsters than you, Rafe."

For a moment, a flicker of doubt passed through his blue eyes. They were bloodshot red, perhaps from the lack of sleep or maybe because he was high off his mind, you didn’t care to ask. But just as quickly, his usual sneer returned. "Enjoy your stay, Maybank.”

With that, he turned and left the room. Him and the stupid slamming of doors. You were alone again, your pulse racing but your resolve intact. You had to get out of here. You knew it wouldn't be easy, but you were a Maybank—survival was in your blood. You took stock of your surroundings once more, this time with a sharper eye. The walls were thin, the windows barred, but there had to be some weakness, some way to exploit the situation. You ran your fingers along the seams of the walls, looking for anything that might give. Your mind raced through every piece of advice JJ had ever given you about breaking and entering. You’d done a lot of that over the years, and while most people thought you pogues were simply criminals, they never cared enough to ask why you and your brother spent so much time in and out of the sheriff’s department. 

So, what if two dirty, no-good kids were barely hanging on for dear life? No one gave a shit. 

Weeks blurred into each other, each one marked by the same routine. Rafe's visits, Ward's looming threats, and the endless search for an opportunity to escape. You watched Rafe carefully, noting his every move, his every interaction with Ward. You noticed the way Ward belittled him, treating him more like a tool than a son. It was a toxic dynamic, one that made you wonder if Rafe was as much a victim as you were. You’d seen bits and pieces before, but Sarah had described Ward as some sort of saint up until recently. Rafe on the other hand? Their dynamic was so different from what you were used to. You and JJ were like two peas in a pod, you’d die for him and you know he would do the same, no questions asked. If there was one good thing in your life, it was your brother. 

You couldn't help but feel a twinge of pity for Rafe, despite everything he'd done. He was a product of his environment, molded by a father who saw him as nothing more than a means to an end. 

You saw the cracks in his armor, the moments of doubt and vulnerability. The way his hands would shake every time Ward raised his voice, the way he would bite his nails to hide the embarrassment booming in his cheeks. How he never walked into his father’s space or any other room without announcing his presence. It gave you whiplash. 

You began to argue less with him, your animosity slowly giving way to a grudging understanding. You hated feeling so…forgiving. This boy had done unspeakable things to you and your friends, to your family…and there you were. Feeling sorry for him like you didn’t know better. 

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the small house, Rafe brought you dinner. He placed the plate on the table, his movements tense, his expression unusually subdued. Strangely so, you’d memorized that expression. You didn’t even have to ask to understand what had gotten under his skin. You watched him for a moment before speaking.

"Why do you let him treat you like that?" you asked, your voice softer than usual. You didn’t understand why you did it. You regretted the words the moment they came out of your lips, but there was something inside itching you to ask. 

Rafe's eyes snapped to yours, rage and something else—pain—flashing in them. "What the hell do you know about it?" he snapped, but there was less bite in his words. 

At this point he just sounded tired. 

"I understand,” you replied, thinking of your own father. "I know what it's like to want to prove yourself, to be more than what they think you are."

Rafe's jaw clenched, his eyes dropping to the floor. For a moment, he looked lost, like a boy searching for something he could never find. "You don't know shit," he muttered, but there was no conviction in his voice.

"I know enough," you said quietly. "You don't have to keep doing this. You don't have to be his puppet."

He laughed bitterly, shaking his head. "You think it's that simple?"

"Maybe not. But you can choose to be better than him. You can choose to stop this.”

Rafe looked at you, really looked at you, for the first time. It was borderline unnerving. The weight of his stare. The way your stomach flip-flops under his attention. 

“Shut the fuck up and eat, Maybank."

But beneath it all, there was something else. Something you’d seen before, when you looked at yourself in the mirror after you took the biggest beating of your life and Luke finally got thrown into jail: hope. 

He didn't say anything, just turned and walked out, leaving you alone. 

Again. 

The days continued to pass, but something had shifted. Rafe was less hostile, more contemplative. He didn't treat you as roughly, didn't hurl as many insults. It was a small change, but it was there. And you began to see a way out, not just for yourself, but for Rafe too. You knew what he did, knew what he was capable of, but no one deserved to rot in hell with someone like Ward. You needed to bide your time, to wait for the right moment. And when that moment came, you had to be ready to act. 

Another day began with the same oppressive heat. The sun had just started to rise, casting a golden hue over the island. You were in the small kitchen of the house, preparing a meager breakfast from the limited supplies you had. The routine had become almost mechanical, a way to keep your mind occupied and stave off the rising panic.

Rafe entered the kitchen, eyes barely open as he wiped the sleep away. He poured himself a glass of whiskey, the sound of the liquid hitting the glass breaking the silence. He stood with his back to you, staring out the window. 

“What’s Luke like?”

You froze, your hands pausing mid-motion. It was an unexpected question, one that cut deep and made you want to hurl on the spot even though you hadn’t had anything to eat yet. 

“Why do you want to know?" you asked cautiously, trying to keep your voice steady.

Rafe shrugged, still not turning to face you. "Just curious. You Maybanks are a tight bunch, right? So what's he like?"

Tight bunch…that was one way to put it. 

You took a deep breath, trying to decide how much to reveal. "He’s a drunk, a thief. But he's still my dad."

He finally turned to look at you, his eyes narrowing. "So why do you stick around? Why not just leave him?"

You knew what he was trying to do, giving you a taste of your own medicine. You couldn’t blame him. 

You met his gaze, the raw honesty of your answer surprising even you. "Because he's family. And sometimes, family is all you have. Even when they’re terrible, even when they hurt you, sometimes you can’t just walk away."

Rafe seemed to consider this, his expression unreadable. "Family's supposed to be everything, right?" His voice carried a bitter edge, hinting at his own unresolved conflicts.

"That's what they say," you replied quietly.

He took another sip of his whiskey, his eyes never leaving yours. "Must be tough, having a dad like that."

Tough? It’s heartbreaking. Knowing that the one person who was supposed to love you, cherish you and protect you for life never gave a single fuck about his kids? Yeah, sure it’s “tough”

You nodded, a sad smile playing on your lips. "Guess we have that in common.”

Rafe looked away, his jaw tightening. "Yeah, we do." He set his glass down with a heavy thud, the sound resonating in the small kitchen.

For a moment, the two of you stood in silence, but then he took a deep breath, his shoulders sagging slightly. "I get it," he said quietly. "More than you know."

You watched him, the way his fingers ran along the rim of the glass. "Then why do you keep doing this? You don’t have to."

His eyes blazed with anger. “It's not that simple," he snapped. "You think I have a choice? I killed someone. For him.” 

It was the first time he had said those words out loud. And it made him sick to his stomach. That he’d been scared and high enough to do something so reckless, just so they wouldn’t take away his dad. 

"We always have a choice," you countered, your voice firm. "Maybe not the best ones, but we can always choose to be better."

He stared at you for a long moment, his expression a tumult of emotions. Then he shook his head, turning away. "You don't know anything," he muttered, but there was less conviction in his words than before.

"I know enough," you said softly, watching his retreating back. "And so do you."

He paused at the doorway, his hand gripping the frame tightly. Without turning around, he spoke, his voice low and strained. "I'll see you later."

As he left, the kitchen felt colder, but you knew you had reached him, even if just a little. And that gave you hope.

After that, Rafe’s visits were less frequent, and when he did come by, there was an uneasy tension between you both. You couldn't tell if it was the weight of your conversations or the sheer exhaustion of being trapped in this toxic cycle. Still, every interaction chipped away at the walls he'd built around himself, revealing glimpses of the person he might have been, had his life taken a different path.

Tonight, the air was still, the only sound was the gentle lapping of waves against the shore. You had been biding your time, watching for the perfect moment to make your escape. The house was quiet, Ward was gone and you hadn’t seen Rafe in two days. By now, you knew how the guards outside fell asleep before 2am like clockwork. 

You could it. 

This was your chance, and you couldn't afford to waste it.

You moved silently, slipping out of the small bedroom and into the hallway. Every creak of the wooden floorboards seemed to echo in the stillness, and you held your breath, praying you wouldn't be caught. The front door loomed ahead, your path to freedom. Your heart raced as you slowly turned the handle, wincing at the faint click that accompanied the action.

The night air hit you like a wave as you stepped outside, the cool breeze a stark contrast to the oppressive heat that had been your constant companion. You glanced around, ensuring the coast was clear, then made your way towards the small boat moored at the edge of the beach. The plan was simple: get to the boat, start the engine, and head for the main island where you could find help.

You kept low, moving quickly but cautiously, every step bringing you closer to your goal. The boat was within reach when a noise behind you made your blood run cold. 

The crunch of gravel underfoot was unmistakable. You turned sharply, and in the dim moonlight, the silhouette of one of the guards emerged from the shadows. The asshole who’d gotten you here in the first place. He was closer than you had anticipated. Your heart pounded, adrenaline surging through your veins as you broke into a sprint, abandoning stealth for speed.

"Stop!" the guard shouted, his voice carrying across the trees. You didn't dare look back, your eyes locked on the boat. A sharp crack split the night—a gunshot. You felt a searing pain in your arm, but you couldn't stop. You pushed through the pain, your goal now just a few yards away.

Another gunshot rang out, but you were too focused to determine where it landed. You reached the boat, hands trembling as you fumbled with the ropes. The pain in your arm intensified, but you forced yourself to keep moving. Suddenly, a heavy hand grabbed your shoulder, spinning you around. You struggled, kicking and thrashing, but he was stronger. He pulled you to the ground, pinning you down as he radioed for backup.

"Got her," he said into the radio, his breath hot against your ear. You tried to wriggle free, but his grip tightened. Moments later, two more guards arrived, hauling you to your feet and dragging you back towards the house.

Your mind raced the sting in your arm a painful reminder of your failed attempt. As they pulled you inside, the walls seemed to close in around you, your brief taste of freedom slipping away.

Moments felt like hours as you sat in the chair, the pain in your arm throbbing with each heartbeat. The quiet murmurs of the guards outside were interrupted by the heavy, hurried footsteps of someone approaching. The door flew open, and there stood Rafe, disheveled and wild-eyed, a gun clutched tightly in his hand.

“What the fuck is going on?” he barked, his voice a volatile mix of anger and confusion. His gaze scanned the room, landing on you. 

The sight of the blood staining your arm made his expression shift from bewilderment to fury.

He stormed towards you, his eyes blazing. “What happened?” he demanded, his voice low but dangerous. Before you could answer, he whirled around to face the guards who had re-entered the room. “Are you fucking kidding me?” Rafe shouted, waving his gun erratically. “She’s bleeding! I try to sleep in peace and this is what I come back to?”

The guards exchanged nervous glances, shifting uncomfortably under Rafe’s glare. “She was trying to escape, Mr. Cameron,” one of them stammered. “We had to stop her.”

His expression twisted with rage. “So you fucking shot her?” His voice dripped with incredulity and disdain. “Do you even understand what you’ve done? My father wants her in once piece.”

The guard who had caught you tried to explain, but Rafe cut him off. “Shut up. Just... shut up.” He turned back to you, his eyes softening slightly as he took in the sight of your injured arm. Or maybe the pain was making you delirious.

 “We need to get that cleaned up,” he muttered, more to himself than to anyone else. Without another word, he holstered his gun and gently took your uninjured arm, pulling you to your feet. The guards looked on, unsure of what to do or say. 

Rafe shot them a deadly look. “Get out,” he snapped. “Before I shoot you bitches myself.”

Once Ward’s men had left, Rafe's demeanor changed. His concern, which had briefly softened his striking features, hardened back into anger. He ran a hand through his long hair, pacing the small bathroom before finally stopping in front of you. His eyes were intense, burning with frustration.

He sneered at you, his voice dripping with disappointment and exasperation, "I thought you had some brains in that pretty little head of yours," he spat out, his frustration palpable. "What were you even thinking? Do you realize how close you came to getting yourself killed?"

You tried to speak, to defend yourself, but he didn't give you the chance. His words came fast, each one like a dagger aimed at my heart. "You could've died out there! A bullet barely missed you—do you even understand how lucky you are?"

His fists clenched at his sides, his eyes burning into yours. "I just don't get it. Do you think you're invincible? Because you're not. You're just..." He stopped himself, taking a deep breath as if trying to regain control of his temper. "You're just reckless," he continued, his voice quieter but still seething with anger. "You didn’t think about the consequences, about what it would do to..."

He trailed off, his attention faltering for a moment before snapping back to you. You could see the conflict in his eyes, the battle between knocking you out cold and something else—maybe concern, maybe fear.

"Don't act like you give a shit about me," you called after him, your voice trembling with both pain and defiance.

He stopped in his tracks, his back stiffening for a moment before slowly turning to face you. The fury in his eyes was matched only by the bitterness in your own. "I don't," he retorted, his tone icy. "But my ass is on the line too. You think Ward won't come down on me if something happens to you?"

You stood up, despite the throbbing pain in your arm, facing him head-on. "So this is all about you, then? Your precious ass and how it looks to Ward? Typical Cameron bullshit, only caring about themselves."

Rafe's eyes narrowed, his jaw clenching. "You don't know what you're talking about," he said, his voice dangerously low. "You think this is easy for me? Keeping you safe, dealing with all this? It's not just about me. It's about keeping everything under control."

You scoff through your nose "Here we go again. Control? You think dragging me back here, shooting at me, is control? It's chaos, Rafe. You're just as trapped as I am, and you can't stand it."

His face twisted showcasing his wrath, and he took a step towards you, closing the distance. "Shut up!” he growled. "You don’t understand the pressure I'm under. The expectations, the demands. I didn’t ask for any of this."

"And neither did I," you shot back, a strict finger aimed at his face in warning, “So shut the fuck up.”

He took another step towards you, his face inches from yours, his breath hot and ragged.

"You have no idea what you're talking about," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "You think this is just about me? It's about keeping everything from falling apart. It's about—"

Before he could finish, you grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him even closer, your faces almost touching. "I don’t care about your excuses, Rafe. I don’t care about your pressures or your fucking control. All I know is I’m not staying here.”

The look he gave you was filled with enough ire to have a hint of satisfaction sparking in your chest, the hollow beneath his dark brows deepening as his classical features twisted into an expression of silent hatred. His breath came in short, sharp bursts. His hands came up, gripping your waist, not gently but not roughly either, as if he couldn’t decide whether to push you away or pull you closer.

"You're impossible," he hissed, his voice a raw whisper.

"And you’re a coward," you shot back, your voice equally low but no less fierce.

The next moment happened in a blur. Rafe’s grip tightened, and before you could process what was happening, his lips crashed into yours with a ferocity that left you breathless. His mouth was demanding, almost punishing, and you responded, your hands fisting in his shirt, pulling him closer even as you wanted to push him away.

The kiss was rough and desperate, fueled by anger and frustration, a collision of two souls too damaged to recognize the depths of their own pain. And yet, beneath the layers of animosity and resentment, there was a spark—as if you were both too messed up to understand how much you needed each other. Each fingertip left an imprint, a silent declaration of the strength he was restraining. It was like he was fighting to contain this force within him, to keep it from overwhelming you both. 

If someone told you you’d be kissing Rafe fucking Cameron of all people just a month ago, you’d think they were crazy. And yet… All you wanted were his hands on your body, his warm skin against your own.

Oh his hands.

They roamed slowly yet purposefully over your lower back, over your waist. You breathed out a sigh of relief, taking the collar of his shirt in both your hands as you pulled him closer, relishing in his warmth. He smelled like whiskey and cigarettes. 

He pulled away slowly, your lips the last to part, and blinked down at you. You watched him lick his bottom lip, taking in the sight of you.

“’You’re bleeding—“

“Shut the fuck up.”

His eyes flared with renewed anger, but also with something else—something darker, more primal. Your words were like a match to gasoline. He didn't respond verbally; instead, he took a half step back before swooping you into his arms, lifting you effortlessly.

With a swift, decisive motion, Rafe carried you to the dining table, and you barely had time to register the cool wood against your back before he was on you again, his body pressing down on yours with a desperation that matched your own. There was no tenderness there, only raw need and a desire to consume. He pried your lips apart again, his tongue sweeping in as he kissed you deeply, his mouth moving invasively over yours. His fingers gripped your jaw with a vice-like hold. A strange sensation fluttered beneath your skin, and you wrapped your legs around his hips, closing the distance between your bodies as he pressed flush against your center.

His hands moved with such intent, slipping under your shirt, his fingers tracing every curve with a delicious blend of roughness and urgency. You reciprocated eagerly, your own hands tangling in his hair, urging him closer as your kiss deepened. Everything around you blurred as the room spun, his warmth against you making you breathless, his taste lingering on your lips, intoxicating and irresistible.

You tugged at his shirt, fingers fumbling with the buttons because you just couldn't wait. He let out that deep, sexy growl that made a shiver run down your spine. His hands were all over you, touching your skin and leaving fiery trails wherever they went. It felt like he was trying to memorize every inch of you, wanting to claim you in a way that words could never capture.

"You're impossible," he muttered against your lips, the words barely audible over the sound of your heavy breathing. He leaned down closer to your collarbone, to catch the scent on your skin, and he couldn't tell if you were amused or annoyed from the way your cheeks rounded as you narrowed your eyes at him.

"And you’re an asshole,” you shot back, your voice breathless, your body arching into his touch.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, the tip of his nose brushing against yours slightly "Drive me fucking crazy.”

"Good," you replied, your fingers tightening in his hair, pulling him down again. You could feel the tension in his body, the way he was holding back, trying to maintain some semblance of control. But you didn't want control. You wanted to lose yourself in this moment, to forget everything you'd been trough and just feel.

Rafe seemed to sense this, his hands becoming more insistent, his touch more possessive. He lifted you slightly, positioning you better on the table, his body slotting perfectly between your legs. The friction was exquisite, a delicious tease that left you craving more.

"Rafe," you breathed, and he almost fell to his knees at the soft whimper that left your lips when he couldn’t help but jerk his hips forward. He responded instantly, his hands gripping your hips, pulling you closer as he kissed you with a fervor that left you dizzy. The table creaked under your combined weight, but neither of you cared. Your hand grabbed his forearm, over the veins strained from his grip on you, your nails sinking into the skin exposed.

You broke the kiss, gasping for air, your eyes locking with his. There was a wildness there, a reflection of the storm inside you. You reached up, tracing his jaw with your fingers, feeling the stubble beneath your touch as his mouth, hot and demanding, left a trail of fire in its wake on your neck. A noise of pleasure slipped from your mouth as he palmed at your breast, thumb grazing across your nipple as his teeth grazed your collarbone, kissing down, littering your skin bite marks.

"I hate you," you panted, pouring as much venom into your words as possible. Your thighs tightened around his hips, feeling every inch of him against you. 

“Your body doesn’t,” He replies coldly, each syllable slowly drawn from his throat, "

“Fucking asshole.”

“Fucking brat.”

You opened your mouth to hiss something at him, to fight back, show him that you were the one in charge, but the intention died the moment Rafe cupped you through your shorts. A pathetic excuse of shorts due to the heat. Heat bloomed in your stomach, melting into a torrent want that flooded your skin and left you breathless. His determined blue eyes pierced into yours, watching as he pressed the heel of his palm against the apex of your thighs, his middle finger tracing your entrance and applying light pressure to the sensitive dip between your legs.

“Cat got your tongue, pretty?” He asked, lips brushing over your mouth, loose bangs brushing against your brow “Thought you had more fire in you.” he rasped coldly, moving your shorts and underwear out of the way and your lips parted on a sharp inhale as you felt him touch you for the first time, “Yeah, thought so.” 

Every nerve ending seemed to come alive under his hands, and the room around you blurred into insignificance. All that mattered was the man in front of you, his relentless grip on your senses, his unwavering control over your body.

"God, I hate you," you whispered again, the words almost a prayer, a futile attempt to cling to the anger that had fueled you for so long. But even as you said it, you knew it was a lie. You hated how much you needed him, how much you craved his touch, his dominance. Perhaps you’d been locked away from society for too long. That was the only plausible reason for you to let Rafe Cameron touch you.

Rafe smirked, a dark, satisfied gleam in his eyes. "No, you don’t.” 

You did. At least you used to, everything’s confusing now.

He teased you, his touch light and teasing, drawing out your frustration, your need. "Tell me what you want," he murmured against your lips, his voice a seductive growl that made your heart race.

You bit back a whimper, refusing to give him the satisfaction of hearing you beg. But the need was overwhelming, a fierce ache that demanded release. 

“Fuck you," you spat, your defiance crumbling under the weight of your desire.

He chuckled darkly, his fingers finally slipping inside you, curling and stroking in a way that made your hips buck against his hand. "That's right," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. "Let me hear you."

A broken moan escaped your lips, and you arched into his touch, your body writhing with need. His fingers moved expertly, finding all the right spots, driving you near the edge with a skill that left you breathless. Every touch, every stroke was designed to push you closer to the brink, to break you down until you were nothing but a trembling, pleading mess.

"Rafe, please," you finally gasped, the words ripped from your throat by the overwhelming pleasure. "Please, I need you."

His smirk widened, and he pulled his fingers away, making you whimper in frustration. He didn't make you wait long, though. With swift, practiced movements, he freed himself from his pants, the sight of him hard and ready making your mouth water. 

Without a word, he positioned himself between your legs, the head of his pretty cock teasing your entrance. "You ready for me?" he asked, his voice a rough whisper that made your heart skip a beat. 

You nodded, your eyes locking with his, the intensity of the moment almost too much to bear. "Yes," you breathed, your voice trembling with anticipation. "Please, Rafe."

He didn't need any further encouragement. With a single, powerful thrust, he buried himself inside you. The sensation was overwhelming, a perfect blend of pain and pleasure that made you cry out. Your back arched involuntarily, your lips parting as he entered you, filling you completely in a way you had never imagined.

He rolled his hips firmly against yours, and your head tipped back as his cock rubs perfectly against you. You’d never felt so full. He didn’t give you a moment to catch your breath. After another firm roll of his hips, testing you out, figuring out his rhythm. His movements were hard and relentless, pounding into you, knocking the breath from your lungs with each forceful thrust, barely giving you time to adjust. 

You clung to him, your nails digging into his muscular back, your body moving in perfect rhythm with his. The table creaked and groaned beneath you, but you didn't care. All that mattered was the man above you, his relentless drive, his unwavering control. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer, deeper, his thrusts becoming more erratic, more desperate. You could feel him losing control, his need matching your own. 

Your eyes squeezed shut, blocking him out so you could pretend you weren’t stupid enough to let the man that ruined your life fuck the living hell out of you.

"Eyes on me,” he growled, his voice rough and commanding. "Let me see you.”

Even though you really wanted to shut him out, you just couldn’t fight the crazy pull he had over you. His voice was like a force of nature. You opened your eyes and locked onto his intense gaze. Seeing him above you, his face twisted with raw need and determination sent chills down your spine. His eyes were locked onto yours, filled with this dark, unyielding intensity that left you totally breathless. 

“Good girl,” he murmured, his voice dripping with approval and something deeper, something that made your heart race even more. It made you want to run for the hills, "Fucki—Oh, fuck"

With each thrust, he drove you closer to the edge, your body responding to him in ways you couldn’t control. The pleasure was overwhelming, a torrent of sensations that left you gasping, moaning, begging for more. His name slipped from your lips in a broken, desperate plea, and he answered with a renewed vigor, his movements becoming more frenzied, more primal.

"Fuck," he growled, his voice rough and strained. "You're so tight... feels so fucking good."

You could barely form coherent thoughts, let alone words. Your entire world had narrowed to this moment, to the feel of him inside you, to the overwhelming pleasure that consumed you. Your body arched beneath him, your nails digging into his skin, leaving marks that would undoubtedly linger.

"Rafe," you whimpered, the sound barely more than a breath. "I'm... I can't..."

He understood. His pace quickened, his thrusts becoming almost brutal in their intensity. "Come for me," he commanded his voice a raw whisper that sent shivers down your spine. "Let go."

His words pushed you over the edge, and you came with a scream, your body convulsing around him. The intensity of your release was like nothing you'd ever felt before, a white-hot explosion of pleasure that left you trembling and breathless.

Rafe followed you over the edge, his own release crashing through him with a force that left him shaking. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot and ragged against your skin as he rode out his orgasm, his movements slowing until he finally stilled, still buried deep inside you.

For a moment, everything was still, the only sound the ragged breaths but then Rafe lifted his head, his eyes meeting yours, and for a moment, there was something almost tender in his gaze. 

“Y-You—“ He sighed, pausing, “Don’t pull that shit again. I’ll get you out, okay? 

“Rafe...“

Before you could process his words, before you could question or argue, his lips were on yours again. Differently this time. Gentle. 

Devastating almost. 

“You’re still bleeding Maybank.”

Rafe’s words snapped you back to reality, the pain in your arm a sharp reminder of your injury. The moment of vulnerability between you evaporated, leaving you with the stark realization of your situation. You pushed at his chest, forcing him to back off slightly, and hissed through clenched teeth, "Then do something about it."

He just stood there, staring at you as if he had never seen you before. As if he was truly seeing you for the first time despite having known you since you were seven, despite all the moments marked by violence and terror. And you hated every second of it because your heart was practically leaping out of your chest. No one had ever looked at you like that before.

And then he simply shook his head, drew closer again, resting his forehead against yours, hands back on your thighs, fingers pressing as if he needed to ensure that you were real, that everything was real.

“We’re getting out.”

You wanted to believe in him more than anything. In that moment, it was the only thing that mattered, “Yeah?"

“Yeah, pretty Maybank. You and me."

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

[r3leee]

OKAY FINE YOU HORNY SLUTS

you get smut 😒😒 this is the last time i'm installing on this tho

pairing: dom!billie eilish x sub!fem!reader

summary: part 2 to this fic, which is based off this ramble (idk why this is such a rabbit hole omfg)

warnings: RPF!! don’t like, don’t read, THIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING SMUT bear with me 😭🙏🏻, established relationship, hickeys, oral, overstimulation, i guess a little bit of cum play??, pet names (mama, ma, sweet girl, baby), strap + strap sucking, aftercare (all r receiving)

word count: 1,757, should take about thirteen and a half minutes to read

listen to: needy by ariana grande

finneas walked back to his room without a second glance. and as soon as the door shut, your girlfriend took the blanket off you. "come here. we're good now."

IT TOOK ONLY a matter of seconds for her to pounce on you. you'd only ever seen her like this a few times before. but every time it happened, you would try your best to ravish the feeling. because when billie was like this, you were getting treated right until you were ruined.

your back lay flush against the fluffy hotel pillows while your girlfriend grabbed your face and kissed you. rough. hard. almost with a force that knocked the wind out of you. oh ya, you were getting fucked.

she didn't stay near your face for long. but instead of reaching for your neck like she usually did, she instead reached for the top of your dress. since it was strapless, she was going to have a relatively easy time getting it off. "arms up."

you commanded to her words, putting your hands up as she pulled the shiny dress over your skin. what she found excited her even more. "no bra? oh, baby, you know what you're doing." the nickname. baby. it rolled off her tongue so well, so sultrly. it gave you goosebumps.

"and your nipples are hard?" accentuating her words, she wrapped her hands around your chest and rubbed the buds over her thumbs. not with any pressure, though. just so you could feel it there. "this is evidence, sweet girl. you found that hot and you know it."

suddenly, you felt a sharp pinch on your right nipple. it made you gasp. she just smirked and leaned down, quickly using her tongue to soothe the pain. you threw your head back as she started to rub your left nipple like previously.

after a while, when she was satisfied, she pulled away and switched nipples. it was like a game to her to see how much you could take. she, at some point, started to suck so hard you swore it would leave marks.

one she felt she had enough, she took her mouth off you. she stuck her tongue out, running a line down your cleavage. she went slowly, her tongue trailing down your body feeling like fire. her tongue quickly dipped in the trench of your belly button before reaching just above your clit.

right as she reached your pussy, she looked up at you. there were no words exchanged, but you could tell what she was asking you. if this was okay. that’s the thing you loved about your girlfriend. no matter how desperate she was, if you told her to stop, she would. but, as you nodded, her soft gaze got thrown away.

today wasn’t a teasing day. hell, barely even a prep day. almost immediately, she was on you like a prisoner eating their final meal.

billie left no mercy as she ate you out. her tongue took on different patterns, too spontaneous with her movement to care.

she seemed to do something new every few seconds. it transitioned from licking up and down your folds to sucking your clit to sliding her tongue down and into your entrance in such a way it made tears form in the corner of your eyes.

you whined and pulled her hair, making her chuckle into you. the action made you seem to fall even harder, the vibrations easing just the right ache.

billie was relentless. it was often she got engulfed in your pussy, not wanting to stop pleasing you until you were begging her not to. but this was different. it was feral the way she was licking up your arousal that was spilling onto her tongue. it was almost like she wanted to completely clean you out, not wanting a single part of you untouched.

once you’d finally announced you were close with a high pitched moan, she didn’t even seem as if she heard you. she just kept up, sucking your sensitive bud and rolling her tongue around it.

when you did cum, it was fuzzy. it felt like laying on a cloud. well, only for a bit. until you realized billie was nowhere near done with you, licking up her reward.

“ billie, bills! oh my god, bills, i came, i came!” your voice was high pitched as you squirmed, trying to get out of her iron clad grip on your thighs.

for whatever reason, which you didn’t expect, she released, making a little “pop!” as if she was just sucking on a lollipop. to her, it was candy either way.

she quickly wiped her mouth with her sleeve before taking her pointer finger and sticking it back inside. you jolted, but she quickly took it out before you could whine again.

it was jarring the way she licked your release off her finger. but it was hot. it made you feel warm all over again, wanting her to devour you again and again and again.

billie crawled back up to kiss you lips. you could taste yourself on her tongue, making you reel. she pulled away quickly, a string of saliva connecting you. “i’m gonna get the strap,” she mumbled frantically.

you nodded, not at all complaining. you laid on your back, eagerly waiting as your girlfriend hopped off the bed and toward her suitcase. of course she brought the strap to a different country. of course she did.

you watched with hungry eyes as she undid the buckle on her belt, shimming her pants down to harness the fake dick around her waist.

as she walked back to the bed, she stopped right at the foot of it. you tilted your head in confusion. “come here, mama, suck on it.”

you obeyed to her request, hopping off the bed and settling on your knees on the floor. you didn’t immediately take the whole thing in at once, instead just going for the tip.

you hollowed your cheeks as if billie could feel the thing (which she always swore she could.) “mhm, just like that, baby, just like that.” she gently pushed your head forward, seeing just how far you could take the indigo dildo.

once she’d decided you’d had enough, she commanded you off. immediately, you got on your back, easing into the pillows.

billie crawled on the bed to get into position. she cupped your face, giving you one more kiss, before grabbing the strap. she ran the tip of the dildo up and down your folds, collecting your slick. “you ready for it, ma?” she asked as she lined it up with your entrance.

“yes.” she didn’t need to be told twice. immediately, she sunk into your pussy, bottoming out. although you had a few different dildos that you two used, this one was the one you used the most. so, it was no surprise how your pussy immediately engulfed the silicone, almost like it for perfectly.

you groaned and threw your head back as billie drew tight circles on your clit with her finger. “just tell me when i can move,” she spoke in a tone so soft it almost wasn’t like she didn’t just put 7 inches of silicone inside you.

after a while, you nodded.

billie didn’t need to be told twice.

her thrusts started off gentle and calm, moving her hips to only take an inch out and put it back into your waiting hole. the slow speed of these thrusts made it so you could feel everything: the gentle touch of billie’s thighs against yours, the dildo pressing so nicely on your walls.

you were content with this. but, billie wasn’t. at some point, it seemed she got bored, as she strung on of your legs over her shoulder and went faster.

the new angle made her be able to penetrate that spot all the way in the back that made you see stars. and with the speed and hardness she was going, the pleasure only multiplied.

“oh, fuck, billie, yaaa, right there,” you encouraged her. she only laughed and nodded in response.

it didn’t take long for the sound of skin slapping on skin to take over the room. well, if you could even hear that over your moans. billie was fucking you with a rawness she hadn’t shown in a while.

you swore you could feel the strap kissing your cervix with every thrust, making you unable to stop letting out sounds. little “uh, uh, uh, uh”s filled the room every time she thrust.

but, who could blame you? the strap was so deep you swore if you looked down, you could see it peeking through your stomach. but you couldn’t even lift your head. the pleasure was too good.

your tits bounced as billie pounded into you, causing her to reach down and take your nipples between her fingers. “oh, you like this?” she teased you. “ya, you like me fucking you like this? like you deserve? ya, i know, i know, it just feels so good…”

the feeling of your hard nipples being played with combined with the damage your girlfriend was doing to your pussy was starting to make you feel overwhelmed. like you were about to fall off the edge.

“billie, shit, i-i’m close,” you said out. “can i cum? please, can i cum, please please please…” that made her smile.

“you don’t gotta beg me, baby. just let go.”

and let go you did. you slapped a hand over your mouth as your back arched off the bed. white hot was all you could see as billie slowed down, letting you ride out your high.

once you were done and could feel the seepage dripping out of you, you took your hand off your mouth, heavily breathing.

billie leaned down to kiss your lips. she smiled into it before pulling away. “you doing okay?” she asked. you nodded. “i’m gonna pull out now, okay?”

in a few seconds, the strap was out of you, leaving you clenching around nothing. she quickly undid the harness and threw it somewhere across the room for her to wash later.

she pulled you into your arms and kissed your head, rubbing your back. “you did so good for me, sweet girl. thank you for letting me do that.”

you hid your face into her neck and spoke. “of course, bills.”

she grinned and kissed your forehead. “okay, you go pee, then i’ll run you a shower, ya?” she proposed. you nodded and went to crawl off the bed.

“hey!” she called out one more time. you turned your head back to look at her.

“i love you.” you beamed.

“i love you, too.”

[mingi-s-dimples]

Outage - Yunsan

KINKTOBER DAY 19, REQ. BY anon

~"Can you write a college au fic where Yunho and San are best friends living next door to the (fem)reader's apartment/ dorm. Both of them like the reader and they ended having a threesome at the guys' place (maybe she goes to their dorm during a power outage cause she's scared, you can decide the reason she's there). I'd like for the reader to be a virgin, whereas the guys are a bit more experienced. Yunho is a mean, rough dom while San is a softer, gentler dom and they work together to give the reader multiple orgasms in various positions." - I'm so sorry ml I would add all the details but it's gonna occupy all the space :<

pairing: yunho x reader x san

genre: 18+, filth, college au

summary: oops, energy's out on your floor. What a good night to go over at your besties, to finish your study session. Yeah, right.. you studied, for sure.. how to give a bj.

wc: 5.8k

warnings: college au, best friends, big dick!yunsan, reader is a virgin, finger sucking, fingering, multiple orgasms (A LOT OF THEM), like 3 orgasms by fingering and one by fucking for reader and yunsan having like two each... so lots of cummm, overstim, dacryphilia, bj, double penetration, yunho is a rougher dom than san, marking (LOOOTSSS OF ITTT), lots of eye contact, praising, pet names (sweetie, love, sweetheart, princess), unprotected, completely consensual, for sure forgot something, unedited might edit later.

Author's Note: it legitimately took me 5 days to finish this fic 🧍‍♀️ but it has 5.8k words so ig it's pretty expected 💁‍♀️. It is as detailed as I could write it, my love.. I hope you like it. Pls let me know if you did by completing the request form or by sending me an ask to my inbox! 🥰 I loved writing it, ngl... Enjoy, guys !!

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and does not represent the reality of the members in any way.

The cool evening air nipped at your cheeks as you walked down the hallway of your apartment building with San and Yunho, your books and notebooks bundled tightly in your arms. Despite the demands of your classes, the three of you had fallen into a comfortable rhythm this semester, balancing study sessions with countless inside jokes, late-night ramen runs, and endless laughter. Living in the same building, with you just a few doors down from their shared dorm, had only solidified the bond between you.

"So," Yunho said, glancing down at you with a teasing smile as you reached the door to their place, "how much of Professor Lee’s reading did you actually finish last night?"

You groaned, letting your head fall back dramatically. "Please don’t remind me. I got, like, halfway before I passed out.”

San chuckled, brushing his shoulder against yours. “That’s better than Yunho and me. We didn’t even crack the book open.”

Yunho put his hands up in mock defense. “Hey, I never claimed I was on top of things! Besides, I was too busy helping San fix that stupid coffee machine he broke.”

San rolled his eyes, nudging him. “You’re the one who insisted on trying to ‘hack’ it to make double shots.”

“Details, details.” Yunho gave you both an exaggerated shrug, making you laugh.

As the three of you lingered in the hallway, the faint warmth of your playful banter started to drift. There was a stack of assignments waiting to be tackled, so after a few more exchanges, you decided to head to your own dorm.

"Alright, we’ve procrastinated long enough," you sighed. "I’ll see you guys later?"

San nodded, grinning. “We’ll probably still be awake at 2 a.m. if you wanna come back and cram together.”

Yunho gave a wink. “Or if you get bored, you know where to find us.”

“Noted,” you replied with a smirk, giving them a small wave as you turned and walked down the hall to your door.

Inside, your dorm room was quiet, lit only by the faint amber glow of your desk lamp. You settled in, organizing your textbooks and notes, trying to get into the right mindset to finally tackle your assignments. An hour ticked by, then another, and you began to make progress. But just as you were reaching the last few pages of your reading, the lights suddenly flickered. Then, with a low hum, everything went dark.

You stared at the darkness for a moment, blinking in surprise. The hallway lights were out too, leaving your entire floor eerily quiet and still. You grabbed your phone and quickly typed out a message to Yunho and San:

“Hey, my power just went out… Can I come over and finish my work? I can’t see anything here.”

The reply was almost instant. Yunho’s text popped up first: “Definitely! We’ll keep the lights on for you.”

San’s text followed a second later. “Come on over. We’ll even share the snacks.”

You smiled at their texts and went on packing everything you needed. Pens, the highlighters you always used for your notes, notebooks, textbooks… everything you thought you’d need. As you went out the door and locked it, you smiled and turned on the phone flashlight and went up the stairs to their dorm.

—

When you arrived at their room, Yunho opened the door with a grin, his eyes sparkling as he held it wide for you to enter. Inside, the room was cozy and warmly lit, shadows casting soft outlines across their books and scattered notes. The faint scent of coffee and something sweet lingered, wrapping you in an inviting warmth that made the tension from your dark, quiet room dissipate.

You placed your things on the table and settled into a chair, and before you even had a chance to fully adjust, Yunho shifted beside you. He leaned over, feigning interest in your notes, though his attention clearly lingered on you more than your work. His arm brushed yours, his fingers lightly grazing the edge of your hand, sending a gentle warmth up your arm.

“Feels better here, doesn’t it?” he murmured, his voice soft, almost inviting you to agree.

You nodded, trying to focus on the pages in front of you, but the warmth of his presence was impossible to ignore.

“Definitely feels better than sitting alone in the dark,” you whispered, a small smile creeping onto your face.

From the other side, San watched with a relaxed smile, sliding his chair closer. He rested a hand on the back of your seat, his fingers just barely skimming your shoulder, his touch grounding and comforting.

“Good thing you have us,” San murmured, his thumb brushing softly along the curve of your shoulder. The warmth in his voice, usually playful, was softer, almost reverent. He looked at you with a gentleness that made your heart flutter, his touch a calming presence that drew you in.

The room filled with a quiet, intimate energy as you all fell into a natural silence, the rustling of paper and the faint click of a pen the only sounds. But gradually, the space between you felt like it was diminishing, your awareness of their proximity deepening with every gentle touch and sidelong glance.

Yunho’s fingers began a slow trail along the length of your arm, a feather-light touch that made your pulse race, yet somehow left you craving more. His gaze held yours, warm and open, a subtle smile playing on his lips.

“You’re too quiet now,” he teased softly. “Usually you can’t stop talking.”

The words sent a shiver through you, and you managed a soft laugh, your voice barely above a whisper. “Guess I’m… distracted.”

San’s hand moved, his fingers brushing along your shoulder as his gaze softened. He looked at you for a moment, his usual grin replaced by a serious, thoughtful expression. “Well,” he murmured, “we don’t mind sharing a little… distraction.”

Surrounded by them both, you felt the pull of their closeness, each touch deepening the quiet understanding between you. The night continued in gentle, charged stillness, their presence speaking louder than words as you sat together, enveloped in warmth, comfort, and something that felt undeniably right.

The quiet atmosphere began to thrum with anticipation, an unspoken intensity filling the air as Yunho’s gaze lingered on yours, searching. He finally took a deep breath, and his voice, usually bright and playful, softened with a serious edge.

“I think we need to tell you something,” Yunho said, his fingers still tracing light circles on your arm, sending ripples of warmth through your skin. You looked up, curiosity and apprehension mingling in your expression.

He glanced at San, who gave him a subtle nod, his eyes holding a similar warmth as he looked at you. Yunho took another breath, a little unsteady, then met your eyes again.

“We both… like you,” he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper, but the weight of his words echoed in your heart. “San and I… we’ve talked about this, and we know it’s unusual, but neither of us could ignore how we feel.”

San moved closer, his hand resting gently on your shoulder, his touch both reassuring and grounding. “We want you to know that we’re here for you, together… if you’d want that too.” His voice was low and steady, but you could see the hint of vulnerability in his gaze as he waited for your reaction.

Your heart raced, the reality of their words sinking in, a warmth blossoming in your chest. You found yourself nodding, a small smile breaking across your lips as you whispered, “Yes, I… I want that too.”

A flicker of mischief sparked in Yunho’s eyes as he leaned in, brushing a gentle kiss to your temple. “You should know… we’ll take good care of you.” Then he paused, noticing the slight blush on your cheeks, the way your gaze shifted shyly downward.

“Actually, there’s something you should know too…” you whispered, the words tumbling out, heart racing as you admitted, “I’m… not experienced. I haven't, uh - had sex.. before.”

Yunho’s expression softened, a gentle laugh escaping him as he reached out to cup your cheek, his touch warm and steady. “Then, we’ll take it slow,” he promised, his voice tender. He looked over to San, who nodded with a smirk and a glint in his eye. “We’ll make sure you’re… well taken care of,” Yunho murmured, the reassurance in his words filling you with a sense of warmth and trust.

Yunho’s fingers slid down, grazing your jawline, his touch electrifying as he closed the distance between you. The air felt thick, charged, as if any moment of hesitation had melted away, replaced by something deeper, more primal. His eyes, dark with intent, flickered over your face, taking in every inch of your expression, every shallow breath. He leaned closer, his gaze settling on your lips, and you felt yourself drawn toward him, as if his very presence held you captive.

Just as his lips brushed yours, San’s hands found your waist, pulling you gently back against him. His warmth enveloped you, his breath hot against your neck as he leaned down, pressing a feather-light kiss below your ear. “We’ll go at your pace,” he whispered, his voice a soft promise, yet laced with that familiar teasing edge. His lips trailed along the curve of your neck, slow and deliberate, as Yunho’s fingers found their way to your hair, tilting your face back to meet his gaze.

“Are you still nervous?” Yunho murmured, his voice rich and warm. His eyes softened with understanding, yet there was an undeniable impatience simmering beneath, a quiet hunger that made your breath catch. You shook your head, a hint of a smile tugging at your lips, and Yunho’s own smirk grew as he finally, slowly, closed the last bit of space between you.

The kiss was tender at first, a gentle exploration, but you felt the fire building with each second. Yunho’s hands, no longer hesitant, traced down your back, drawing you closer as if he couldn’t bear the distance any longer. San’s grip on your waist tightened, his mouth pressing firmer against your neck, his breath sending a thrill down your spine. He sucked dark marks all over your back and shoulders, soft whines escaping your slowly rising chest. Every inch of you was surrounded by their warmth, their presence, until all you could feel was them, grounding you, igniting you, and filling you with a new, intoxicating sense of belonging.

“We've been waiting for this… y/n. For a looong time..” San whispered in your ear from behind, tracing his fingers on your body. He looked up at Yunho and gave him an understanding nod, to which Yunho pulled back, “Yes, sweetie.. you with that little smile of yours… and face. personality of yours…”.

In an instant, San lifted you up, his arms steady and strong as he carried you over to the bed, the movement gentle but filled with a kind of care that made your heart skip a beat. He laid you down with the utmost tenderness, settling behind you as he wrapped his arms around your waist. His hold was warm, comforting, and his fingers traced soft, delicate patterns along your arm, grounding you in this moment.

With San pressed against your back, Yunho moved to the edge of the bed, crawling forward to face you. His gaze held a softness that made you feel cherished, and as he took in every detail of your face, his smile was both gentle and captivating.

“You’re beautiful,” Yunho murmured, his voice low but full of sincerity. His fingers brushed a stray lock of hair from your face, tucking it carefully behind your ear. “Everything about you… just perfect.”

A blush crept into your cheeks at his words, and you looked down for a moment, but Yunho tilted your chin up, bringing your gaze back to his. “Hey, don’t hide from us now,” he whispered, his thumb brushing softly along your jawline. “We want to see you… all of you.”

Behind you, San nuzzled into the crook of your neck, his breath warm as he held you closer. “Yunho’s right,” he murmured, his tone soft yet intense. “We’ve been drawn to you for so long… more than we ever let on.” His arms tightened around you, the embrace protective and reassuring, grounding you in their presence. His lips found their way again on your neck, right under your jaw, where he marked you again. He was just oh-so-thirsty for you.

Yunho leaned closer, his forehead almost resting against yours, his voice a soft murmur. “It’s always been you. The way you laugh, the way you care about people… you’re everything we could have asked for.”

The gentle pressure of their touch, the way they held you so close, filled you with a warmth that ran deeper than anything you’d known. Their affection, their sincerity—it was as if they’d been holding onto these feelings for so long, waiting for the perfect moment to share them with you.

San’s hand moved slowly, gently intertwining his fingers with yours, his breath soft against your ear as he whispered, “We’re right here, and we’re not going anywhere.”

In their embrace, you felt safe, cherished, and undeniably loved, wrapped in the warmth of their closeness and the quiet intimacy of the moment.

Yunho’s eyes met yours, a hint of mischief glinting in his gaze as he leaned down, his lips brushing just below your collarbone. His fingers grazed along your shoulders, and he let his lips linger, pressing warm, slow kisses down the curve of your neck, making his way lower. Each touch felt like a silent promise, but there was something more deliberate in the way his lips marked your skin. The heat of his breath traced down to your collarbone, and as he pressed against you, his hands held you firmly in place.

With a quiet murmur, Yunho drew back slightly, his mouth leaving a faint, warm imprint on your skin, and turned to glance at San. His smile was laced with both a challenge and a hint of possessiveness. “I’m marking her everywhere,” he said, his voice low and edged with a playful intensity. “Let’s see who makes her feel it more.”

San smirked, his fingers still intertwined with yours, while Yunho’s hand found its way to your thigh. His touch was steady, almost firm, and he pushed your legs apart, creating space between you, his gaze tracing over your form with clear appreciation. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured, the words gentle against the intensity of his actions. His fingers slid along the soft skin of your thigh, a hint of roughness to his touch that made your heart race. Every glance, every touch, held a kind of reverence as if he was both admiring and claiming you all at once.

Yunho’s eyes never left yours as his lips began to trail slowly downward, warm and intentional, leaving a path of tender heat across your skin. His hands gripped your thighs, spreading them just enough to make space as he leaned in, his lips pressing along the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. Each kiss was slow, deliberate, and every now and then he would pause, sucking gently at the delicate skin until he left a faint, possessive mark in his wake. His fingers tightened slightly around your thighs, grounding you in the sensation of his touch as he worked his way upward.

Behind you, San’s hand moved to your neck, his thumb tracing a gentle line along your jaw before he tilted your chin up, his own mouth finding its way to the curve of your throat. The warmth of his breath brushed against your skin as he pressed a gentle, lingering kiss just below your jawline. “Just let us show you,” he murmured softly, his tone filled with affection, his fingers moving to caress the sensitive skin beneath your ear.

San’s hold on your jaw made your head tilt back slightly, and you felt Yunho’s mouth on your thighs, trailing upward with unhurried intensity, marking you as he went, savoring each touch. The way they held you—San’s protective yet gentle hold from behind and Yunho’s firm, claiming presence from the front—made your heart race, filling you with an undeniable sense of being cherished, their attention leaving you breathless in the quiet warmth of their embrace.

San’s breath grew heavier behind you, and you could feel the unmistakable heat of his cock pressing firmly against your lower back, his restraint slipping with every moment. His hands moved to your waist, fingers tightening as he pulled you up, shifting you to sit fully on his lap. The sensation of him beneath you sent a warm blush to your cheeks, and you smiled, caught off guard yet undeniably drawn to the warmth and intensity of his touch.

Meanwhile, Yunho was still focused on you, his lips grazing along the sensitive skin of your thighs, leaving small marks that trailed upward, each one deliberate, each one claiming. His hands roamed softly along your legs as he pressed one last kiss to your inner thigh before he pulled back, catching sight of the subtle evidence of your own arousal against the linen beneath you. A playful smirk tugged at his lips, and he looked up, meeting your gaze with a glint of mischief.

Without breaking eye contact, Yunho’s hand moved slowly, confidently, his fingers trailing along your inner thigh before reaching that sensitive place, his touch both gentle and intentional. His fingers explored with careful precision, his eyes watching your every reaction, savoring the way you responded to each movement. San’s hands remained steady at your waist, anchoring you in place as Yunho leaned in, his gaze filled with both admiration and a playful challenge, entirely focused on you, caught in the moment they shared with you.

“You’re so wet already… I can see that you love being marked, is that right?” Yunho asked, his finger pressing against your clit, keeping eye contact with you. “Tell me, sweetie. You wanted this too, mm?” two of his fingers found it’s way in, your head falling back on San’s shoulder as you felt Yunho’s fingers curling inside you. He started to finger you, his long, slender fingers hitting spots you’d never thought would arouse you but here you were.. between the two men you’ve always dreamed of.

“Yunho.. let’s take turns, shall we?” San said from behind, your eyes widened at his words. What did he mean by.. take turns..? you asked yourself.

He smiled at San’s words. “Yeah, sure.. why not. But first, let me have my way with her..” Yunho said and curled his fingers inside you, hitting your g spot a couple of times, moans escaping your throat. “Then.. you can have your way with her and.. “ he circled your clit with his thumb, making you bite your lip, “we can both have our way with her.” San scoffed from behind, approvingly.

“Now.. let's see how much you can handle, sweetheart.” the taller one whispered and he worked both of his hands around your folds. His right hand was 2 fingers deep inside you, finger fucking you rapidly, building your orgasm, while his other hand had the thumb onto your clit, rubbing it in circles, sometimes putting pressure on it. You squirmed and squirmed in front of him and above San, until you basically couldn't take it anymore.

“Y-yunho..!” you started, but words dissipated fast.

“What, princess?” he smiled at you, your face flustered.

“I-i.. ngh.. gotta-” you moaned out the last word, head falling back once again onto San's chest.

“Use your words, pretty girl.”

“I- gotta… c-cum! Yunho, p-please…” you pleaded, eyes teary from being stretched out by his fingers.

Yunho’s smirk grew, his fingers maintaining that perfect, teasing rhythm. He watched you closely, keeping eye contact, catching each hitch in your breath, each tremble, like he was savoring every second. “There we go, princess” he murmured, his tone turning a touch more commanding. “Let it all out…” Yunho said and pressed all your sweet spots until you squirmed over his hand and came all over, creaming on his fingers.

San’s hold tightened from behind, his hands firm on your waist, pulling you slightly against him. “You think you can handle more, princess?” His voice had a rougher edge now, the soft amusement shifting to something more intense.

“Y-yes.. please..” you whispered, voice low and quiet.

“Then.. show us just how much you can take it, sweetheart.”

Yunho’s fingers pressed deeper for a moment, coaxing a soft sound from you that only seemed to encourage them. “Look at you, so eager,” he murmured, his voice velvet-smooth but with a hint of challenge. “We’re not even close to done with you, sweetheart.”

“C'mon, San.. come here. Switch with me.” the taller one said and lifted you, putting you down in his lap, right against his hard cock. He was.. way lengthier than San was but.. San was.. girthier, you'd say? Either way, you were slightly scared of how painfully pleasurable it was gonna be.

You were already out of it. Face sweaty, flustered, eyes teary and legs trembling, but they were not yet done. San's hand ran between your legs, his fingers tracing your thighs. He lubed them up on your own juices then pushed them in, his fingers girthier than Yunho's. Two fingers of his feeling like 3 of Yunho's, you felt yourself being stretched out even more than before. You were close to your high again, even faster than before as you were already aroused.

“You look so beautiful like this, my princes…” San said and sucked a mark on your thigh. Surprised, you moaned pushing your head back into Yunho's buff chest. His right hand went under your chin and slowly pulled your mouth to his, going in for a kiss. At first, it was a soft, tender one. Then, as your moans and whines grew more often and his groans revrebrating through your body, the kiss deepened and the knot in your belly started to feel tighter and tighter, until San curled his fingers into your g-spot and clit at the same time and you beautifully came onto his fingers for the 2nd time in a row.

“That's it, sweetheart…” San whispered

Yunho continued from behind, “Such a good girl..”

How Yunho called you sent a shiver down your spine. Yunho lifted you up onto his lap, sitting you straight.

“One more, sweetie? We promise it's the last one…” he said.

“H-uh? I-” you couldn't even talk, but you nodded your head in approval. The boys looked at each other, giving understanding stares. San pulled you to his chest, placing you on his thigh. You were basically sitting sideways on his lap, your legs spread out evenly. Yunho came under your left leg, in the same position San was. They both pulled your legs outwards slightly, resting on one another's thighs. (it's like they're really close to each other and she's sitting on both men's thighs, left leg over Yunho's entire leg and right one over San's).

They held you promptly and their fingers traveled over your body, Yunho’s hand resting on your waist, San's on your breasts.

“Are you ready, our princess?” San asked.

You nodded. That was it.

“Hold your legs and spread out, darling.”

Both men's fingers went for your hole, a loud moan escaping your throat as you felt both men stretching you in opposite directions. One another was softly pulling towards themselves, inserting each of them two of their fingers, as deep as possible.

They took their time, as if savoring the moment as much as you, their breaths steady and close to your ear, a soft warmth reminding you that they were fully present. Their fingers moved with an intimacy that spoke volumes, every subtle yet harsh movement letting you feel how attuned they were to every reaction, every moan, whine you made.

Their touch became more focused, the rhythm of their fingers overwhelming as you felt the tension building deep within you. San’s voice was a soft murmur by your ear, encouraging you, each word melting into the warmth of his breath, heightening every sensation. Yunho’s grip on your waist steadied you, his thumb brushing along your side in tender, grounding strokes, keeping you fully present in the moment.

And then, with a final, gentle touch, the wave overtook you, breaking over you like a rush of warmth. Your body trembled in their embrace, your breaths mingling with theirs as they held you through every second, their hands offering steady reassurance as the sensations washed over you in gentle waves.

As you came down from your high, tears formed in your eyes from the overstimulation. You came all over their hands and linen for the 3rd time, biting your lips in pleasure.

They put you down slowly on the bed, then both sat right in front of you on their knees. Their cocks were dripping continuously with precum, hard and throbbing, waiting for action.

“Goddammit… you look so pretty like this. Teary eyes.. all fucked out and flushed and we didn't even fuck you yet. Yunho, isn't she perfect like this? Imagine her after we fuck her… oh god.” San said, carresing your cheek as he wiped off some tears.

Yunho’s eyes darkened, a low, breathless chuckle escaping his lips as he took in the sight of you, utterly captivated. He ran his fingers along your trembling jawline, thumb grazing over your lips. “Perfect doesn’t even cover it,” he murmured, voice laced with a deep, possessive edge. “But I don’t think I can wait any longer to see just how beautiful you’ll look after… Come here.”

He stood, pulling you gently toward the edge of the bed, eyes never leaving yours. “Right here," he instructed, his gaze commanding, leaving no room for hesitation. "Let’s see just how pretty you can be for us.”

He raised his brow at his cock, but backed off for a second. He looked at you, and then at San.

San smirked as he looked down at you, his eyes filled with intensity as he took in the sight of you kneeling so prettily on the edge of the bed, exactly where he wanted you. One knee pressed beside your thigh, he leaned in close, the warmth of his breath brushing your skin as he lifted his hand toward your lips.

Keeping steady eye contact, he raised his brows and tilted his head slightly. “Open,” he instructed softly, his voice commanding yet gentle, coaxing you to follow his lead. As your lips parted, he slipped two fingers past them, a glint of satisfaction in his gaze. “Good girl. Now, close around them… slowly, just like that.”

His fingers rested on your tongue, and he watched, completely focused, guiding you with a calm authority. “Suck, nice and easy," he whispered, his voice darkening, "let your tongue glide over them… there you go.” His eyes flickered with approval, and he leaned in just a little closer, his thumb brushing your chin as he murmured, “Show me how well you can listen.”

As you sucked on his fingers, coating them in your own saliva, he smiled at you, satisfied with your work. He then inserted one more finger, your tongue immediately moving and slurping around. After he was more than satisfied with it, he pulled out with a slight popping sound and backed off. He patted Yunho on the chest, who has been lazily stroking his length, looking at the two of you.

“Just in time.. I was going insane back here.” Yunho got closer to you, one of his hand tangling in your hair softly. “Open up, darling. Don't make me wait,” he said and tapped your lower lip with the tip of his cock, to which you opened your mouth and slowly took in his length. The corners of your lips stung as he slowly thrusted in your mouth, hurrying you to adjust to his size.

Yunho's breathing grew heavier as he watched you, his gaze dark and focused. Each slow movement seemed to be its own silent command, urging you to take more of him. His fingers tangled further in your hair, his grip firm yet tender.

You felt your cheeks hollow slightly as you adjusted to his size, your lips stretching around him in a way that sent a heated thrill through both of you. A soft whine slipped past your lips when he pulled back slightly, leaving you wanting more.

He chuckled, a low, knowing sound. “You feel so good, princess.." he murmured, his voice thick with restraint, though his eyes told a different story. You responded with a light hum, the vibrations adding to the tension building between you both. As his pace quickened, your hands found their way to his hips, steadying yourself as he guided you closer to his peak, mouth fucking you rapidly, feeling every corner of your mouth.

With one final, harsh thrust, Yunho’s breaths became uneven, his fingers tightening in your hair as his focus blurred, surrendering to the intensity of the moment. His low, rough voice spilled out in a shuddered exhale as he came. He looked down at you and nodded, urging you to slurp everything, “swallow, sweetheart.” and you did as told.

Just as you felt Yunho’s hand leave your hair, San took his place before you. He offered a playful smile.

Slowly, you welcomed him, the slight stretch challenging yet thrilling, but you never looked away. His hand reached forward as a tear slipped from the corner of your eye, a silent promise of reassurance as he swept his thumb gently across your cheek. With each slow movement, his thumb remained there, resting on your face.

“Fuck.. you didn't lie at all, man…” his head lolled back, biting his lip, “when you said she feels good..”

San’s breaths quickened as he found a rhythm, but he kept his focus on you, reading every reaction, every subtle change in your expression. He couldn't wait anymore. He wanted to cum and that was it. His hand pushed your head on his cock, making you gag and slightly choke on it. As he did that a couple of times he came right down your throat, urging you to swallow his load. It took him a couple of moments to release everything, your eyes teary as he kept his cock down your throat until the end.

“Damn.. that was hot” Yunho said from behind, his cock hard again, heavy in his hand.

“Princess.. would you be able to endure one round of… both of us fucking you, hm?” Yunho said, both men standing in front of you, keeping eye contact. “I just can't wait for my turn, you know?” he continued.

“I-uh” you hesitated for a second, but smiled and nodded shyly, looking up at him.

“That's our girl, man… look at her. Already flushed and ravished, but still wants more? Such a good girl…” San said and pushed you on the bed, crawling under you. He held you close to his chest as he moved up slightly and rested his back against the headboard. Yunho came from behind and kneeled right behind you, his hands resting on your waist.

“Are you ready, love?” he said from behind, your eyes looking into San's, not knowing what to expect. You nodded, and San was the first one to act. He thrusted as slow as possible in your cunt, your hands gripping the headboard as he let you get accustomed to his size. A loud moan escaped your throat, words stuttering as he started to keep up on a pace. Yunho did the same after he let you get used to San and as he started to softly fuck you, your eyes teared up and drops of tears fell onto San's chest. He wiped them off, in awe of your reactions and fucked you. harshness betraying his neediness for you.

“Fuck, you're so tight…” he said and his hands drove up and down on your back, trying to soothe you.

San’s hand gently caressed your cheek as you locked eyes with him, feeling his heartbeat strong and steady beneath you. His thumb traced over your cheekbone, wiping away any lingering tears "You’re incredible," he murmured softly, voice thick with admiration.

Behind you, Yunho’s hands remained anchored on your waist, fingers pressing into you in a grounding way. He leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, “You’re doing so well.” His tone was a blend of awe and satisfaction, his voice rough but filled with warmth that made you feel completely safe.

As they both moved with you, their rhythm became an unspoken exchange, synchronized in a way that felt almost effortless. You could feel the tension building in each of them, both of them on the edge, breaths deepening as they drew nearer to their highs. San’s grip on your thighs tightened, his knuckles grazing your skin, grounding you both as he savored every second. Yunho’s hand slipped up your back in a soothing motion, his rough exhale brushing against your shoulder, each of them close to finishing.

As they fucked you for a couple of times, you came unannounced, your aching walls tightening around their cocks. Surprised, both San and Yunho came down from their high simultaneously, their huge loads filling both of your holes to the brim. They fucked you through your orgasms and slowly came down to a stop.

Yunho slowly pulled back, exhaling a long, satisfied breath. His hand lingered on your back for a moment, his thumb tracing gentle circles, grounding both of you in the moment. He offered you a soft, tender smile, cheeks flushed and breathing deeply. San's arms wrapped tightly around you, pulling you close to his chest as he settled back.

“You did so well,” Yunho murmured, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your temple, his voice low and full of pride. His fingers brushed along your cheek with a feather-light touch, his gaze filled with awe. “You’re so beautiful, love… can’t believe how lucky we are.”

San pressed his lips to the top of your head, his grip tightening around you as he whispered, “Such a good girl.” His fingers traced soothing patterns along your back. “Every bit of you is incredible, you know that?”

The two of them exchanged a quiet smile over you, their gazes warm. They both leaned in, pressing gentle kisses to your cheeks, to your forehead, each one tender, grounding, letting you know how much you were cherished.

“Let's get you washed up, alright?” San said and lifted you, carrying you to the bathroom and placing you down.

“T-thank you.. it was in-incredible.” you finally managed to form a sentence, both boys looking contently in your eyes. They smiled at your words and San gave you a hand, holding you tight while the taller one turned on the shower.

NETWORKS:

@blossomnet

@illusionnet

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

@mingleshine @musiclovingfairy @crazylittlebisexual @sanhwalvr @gong-fourz @arki-sha @artistic-rendition @hongjoongtime117 @cypher-03 @woolysium @peachy-bell26 @memorabxlia @atiny1

[eddiesriskybusiness]

edit: I'm pinning this post so that, fingers crossed, more people can get out of this toxic mindset

Stupid ship war aside, I feel like it would be pretty devastating if 911 seriously has ratings plummet or doesn't get renewed over a temp character/relationship.

What buddies did was fucking nasty, I agree with that, I understand BT fans feeling like the damn rug was pulled out from under them, I get wanting an actor you like back on the show, but I also know that BT fans had a chance to be better than how the buddies were, and buddies had a chance to handle the breakup with more grace.

Instead, BT fans were nastier, going after Ryan's race, Oliver's acting and blowing a comment out of proportion. Buddies were, honestly, no better with how we made fun of BT fans.

I think its time the rose tinted glasses come off for BOTH sides.

Buddies need to acknowledge that BT fans are currently going through what they could have gone through, had the situation been slightly different. That they're probably being too rough with them. I get celebrating, but mocking them is too far.

BuckTommy fans must realise that bitterly cussing out everyone is not going to solve anything, and what they're doing right now is exactly what they called buddies out for a week ago. Know that the actors probably don't have much pull in the writing room, and that any grudges between actors (unless VERY disrupting) does not affect storylines.

And we ALL need to be there for each other, dammit. The country of origin for the show, and the majority of viewers just went through something that can only be called a calamity. On top of that, the show just switched networks too.

But seriously, I don't think we're watching the show only for The Romantic Adventures of BuckTM, right? There's a crap ton of other characters and storylines, we must acknowledge that. The show deserves a bit more respect than that, let's be fair. It hasn't been running for seven years and counting for nothing.

Peace.

tldr: treat each other with some damn kindness before it costs us the entire fucking show. peace.

[gilded-sunrays]

Hello 👋🏻 um.. I wanted to say I really like your writing style and I hope you doing well.😊 I'm quite new here, and I'm rather shy with communicating with people... I wanted to know are you accepting requests ?

If so I would you mind if I asking of scenario of yoriichi with a extremely kind hearted and affectionate fem/reader from his childhood, Who just like to care for those around her giving gifts and try to somehow make them happy.

I want to know how would he react around her? How would he confess to her? You could also make it a short headcanon I don't want to trouble you.

Oh I'm sorry if I talked already too much!!! you don't even have to answer me if you don't want to. Just Thanks for reading my nonsenses😅. I hope you have a good day and I wish for you and everyone a happy life and 😄 take care👋🏻🙏🏻

¡! ❞Confession.ᐟ

|| Pairings: Childhoodfriend!Yoriichi × Reader || 𖤐 Masterlist

▪︎Childhoodfriend!Yoriichi had always sensed a special bond with you. In a world where his own family had turned their backs on him, your presence was the only one that felt welcoming. 

▪︎Childhoodfriend!Yoriichi admired your kindness and gentle spirit, how you would go out of your way to assist strangers, share your groceries with neighbours, and do those small, thoughtful things just to bring a smile to others faces. 

▪︎And although he may not have felt worthy of all your selfless kindness, he made every effort to reciprocate it. Whether it was cooking your favourite meals when you got back, assisting you with chores, or simply tending to you a massage.. and whatnot

▪︎Childhoodfriend!Yoriichi just adored the moments spent with you, with the adorable little creatures that just seemed to gravitate towards him. You two would take some food along to feed them—bunnies, squirrels, little birds, and whatnot. With him around, they even felt calm around you.  

▪︎Childhoodfriend!Yoriichi was a man of few words, often wearing a calm expression when in company, yet he became surprisingly chatty when it was just the two of you.

▪︎While Childhoodfriend!Yoriichi still remained mostly quiet, his attentive listening made it clear that he cherished every word you shared. His face was usually stoic, with only a hint of smile passing through, but you had gotten used to reading his expressions.  

▪︎As time went on, you both had matured and grown into adults. Living together and managing a home as literal children had made you two an unstoppable team.  

▪︎Having each other by your sides, there was no task that seemed impossible—taxes (did he even pay taxes living high up in the middle of nowhere though..?) cooking, cleaning, grocery shopping, or budgeting. Over the years, it all became second nature for the two of you. 

▪︎As this bond grew, so did Childhoodfriend!Yoriichi's feelings for you. In his eyes, you were flawless, like an angel—a light that simply kept him from withering away in his life. 

—And you were the light that he vowed to protect for many years to come

"Y/n.." he began softly, as you both sat by the pond where your paths first crossed.

 "My soul has traversed far and wide to find yours.. In all the world, there is no heart for me like yours."

 He continued, lost in memories of you as he reminisced about your beautiful smile and your pleasant aura..

 "..and In all the world, there is no love for you like mine.." 

As he took his rough hand and gently cupped your cheek, leaning in closer, his breath brushed against your skin as he whispered— 

"I love you.. y/n"

|| A/N: Tysm for requesting <33, I sincerely hope you enjoy it! And nah, its not nonsense, infact-- my inbox is pretty much always open for anything, so feel free to send in whatever..lol!

[redvexillum]

Hey there my sweetest, beloved Vexi ♡

I just wanted to share something personal with you that you can then share with others because I know that they feel the same.

Writing has always been my passion. It's been the one thing that has kept me afloat in my life. Regardless of whether people love my writing or hate it, I would continue for the sake of continuing because it is my life.

But when I rejoined fandom spaces, I was terrified after hearing stories of how the culture had changed significantly. Interaction is lower, and hate has unfortunately always made its home in these communities. Given I share fanfiction solely to share with the aforementioned communities, I found myself afraid that I would get hate messages. I was afraid I wouldn't have a community that would stand up for me if that were to happen. While it would never deter me from what I love, I was scared that friendships and positivity were long dead in this space. Fandom felt lonely.

You know what though? I have met wonderful person after wonderful person. And then I met you too. There you are, getting some of the most horrendous messages I've ever seen sent to another human being, and you continue to push for positivity - smiling and laughing with us about how much you just want to see people happy.

Then you went on to start share some of the wonderful messages you recieved throughout that ordeal, only to begin writing positive affirmations and thoughts for us. Once upon a time, I struggled to accept this sort of positivity, I will admit that. When I was having a rough time, I would often see messages like that as 'hollow' for a lack of better words. I would be angry or bitter that others could think like that when I struggled so much to feel like those words should have meant something to me.

While time has passed since I was that person, I still remember the feeling of hopelessness, yet that doesn't deter from the fact that people like you - and countless others - single handedly restored my faith in these communities.

People like you remind me why I cling to my ideals of treating everyone with kindness no matter what. To try to understand other people. To help others. These are all things that bring us closer together. People like you, @silva-daemonium, @fraugwinska, @macabr3-barbi3, @chrisemrysfics, @melodyonthewireless, @dewdropdinosaur, @xalygatorx, @kewpikayo, @jurijyuu, @jalicecookie, AND SO MANY MORE do so much to support those around you.

All of this came about because I wanted to say thank you for posting those short little messages of encouragment. I know that I have appreciated them. Sure, they might seem a little cheesy to me on a morning when I'm tired - but they really make me smile, and prepare me to tackle whatever the day gives.

You're the beating heart of positivity.

It's a fairytale ending to the horror stories I expected.

I know that other people will see this too, so I just wanted to wish everyone that sees this a relaxing morning, afternoon, evening - timezone in general! You're here, and you've worked hard to be here all this time. Everything you've needed to do to achieve that, you've done. That's huge. I'm so proud of everyone, and my DMs are always open to anyone who might be struggling or just wants to talk. I'll always aim to help my community in the same way that Vexi has demonstrated.

Love to you all, and again, thank you for your messages, Vexi!

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Cirice, I honestly don’t have the words to fully capture how much your kindness means to me. You are truly one of the most thoughtful, beautiful souls I’ve ever had the honor to meet, and I can’t thank you enough for your words. Knowing that something I’ve done has made even a small impact on people like you is still so surreal to me. I’m just deeply grateful that you’re part of this community.

You and so many others are the reason why I’ve stayed here longer than in any other fandom. It’s been the most heartwarming experience. This community, especially people like you, has genuinely transformed my perspective on what fandoms can be: a space filled with compassion, creativity, and connection.

Thank you for sharing your story, for giving me (and others) a piece of your heart. I hope your words reach others, inspiring them to create, to feel they belong, and to understand how wonderful it is to be part of something like this. Knowing we’re all here together, finding meaning in these connections, it makes the world feel a little less lonely and a lot brighter. 💖

Also tagging the people that didn't get properly tagged because tumblr is broken: @dewdropdinosaur @xalygatorx @kewpikayo @jurijyuu @jailcecookie

[ghostwise]

in the gardens of Thay 3.2k words, Astarion/Durge cw: blood drinking, non-consensual illithid powers, bhaalspawn, bard durge In exchange for a taste of her blood, Astarion finds himself unexpectedly recruited for a part in Aya's charade.

Shadowheart pressed her hands over Aya’s head, smoothing down her dark curls with a rush of blue healing magic. For a moment the glow of the spell held fast—then it dissipated quickly, like rainwater on parched earth.

“It would be easier,” she said ruefully, “if we knew what happened to you.”

“It’s no great mystery, Shadowheart,” the bard murmured, her sulphur-yellow eyes closing. “You don’t cheat death and come away without some wounds to show for it.”

“But your wounds from the crash are healed.” There was a tinge of frustration to the cleric’s voice as she regarded the stubbornly broken head of her companion. “Your amnesia should be resolving by now. Unless it wasn’t caused by your wounds to begin with.”

A shadow fell across camp suddenly, as clouds drifted in front of the sun. Astarion blinked and waited for the warmth to return, and it did, moments later. He was still wholly unused to it.

“I’m open to any theories,” Aya said, a small smile curling her lips.

Shadowheart sighed and ran her hands through Aya’s brown locks of hair.

The Sharran was getting rather familiar, Astarion noted. Ironic, considering the cold image she tried so hard to project, but anyone could see that their resident amnesiac had become Shadowheart’s favorite project. One she doted on quite attentively, at that.

“There’s all sorts of magic that could cause it,” Shadowheart mused. “I think if the root were physical, it would already be resolved. And the druids know about physical ailments better than most, yet they too have been unable to help…”

“That doesn’t necessarily point to a magical cause. I could simply be mad.”

“You’re too lucid,” Shadowheart said, not even entertaining the notion.

Astarion bit back a laugh.

He could not truly tell if Aya was being manipulative, but he had to commend her either way. Shadowheart was a powerful ally to have.

Come to think of it, that was exactly what he needed: allies. More than these tenuous traveling bonds, he needed someone on his side. Especially if he planned on sticking around, which he very much did.

Mad or sane, Aya said nothing.

She only turned her yellow gaze towards him, inscrutable as ever.

.

Shadowheart did not understand madness. But Astarion fancied he did.

Madness was terrible and transient. You could be mad and make a life for yourself all the same, and blend in with the muck of the day to day, with some effort. He’d felt a little mad himself when he’d first awoken after the crash. He’d felt it when he was starving and when he was alone, too.

He was quite himself now, and for that he was grateful.

But it was enough to know that those things lurked within him still, cohabiting with that wretched tadpole and liable to exert their influence over him with the right trigger: hunger, pain, fear, grief. Such things were not uncommon these days. Tragedy could befall anyone, at any time, in an instant. The little tiefling bard was a stark reminder of this.

But if only he’d managed to lap up some of her blood before it’d congealed in the mud…!

Meanwhile Aya did not yet remember anything with the exception of her songs, and perhaps this too was a type of madness. She remembered more songs every day, and had lately spent hours plucking away at her lute, singing in her gravelly voice.

“I courted a lass in the gardens of Thay,

Her voice was honey sweet

And we hand in hand spent many a day

In happiness’ blinding reach.”

Her voice crooned softly in the night. Astarion heard it from his bedroll where he lay, awake and uncomfortable, trying to ignore the ache of hunger in his limbs.

He longed to hunt. But it was nearing midnight, and when she started like this she could go on for hours.

“I slaughtered my love in the gardens of Thay,

Her blood was a symphony

And her soft hands could not allay

All of my fury and grief.”

He weighed his options. Once they set off for the goblin camp, there was no telling when or how he would feed. Could he steal a few sips of goblin blood without anyone noticing? Unlikely, as everyone would be on high alert. This could be his last chance.

Outside his tent, Aya’s voice dipped softly, swooning through the night.

“An unsent letter in the gardens of Thay

The delicate writing reads:

‘My beloved I’ll never betray.

Your wicked bribes you may keep.’”

“Ooh, a drama,” he muttered under his breath. For a moment he nearly hoped she was done but the playing and singing resumed in yet another encore. He stifled a groan.

The songs were largely about people encountering the unexpected. Betrayed lovers, gold that vanished as quickly as it was acquired, curses and prophecies going awry. Many of the songs had a morbid slant to the verse. He did not recognize any of them.

He willed her to go to sleep, but of course, she did not. By the time everyone else was awake, Aya had not slept a wink. Nor, for that matter, had he.

And he was still hungry.

A vampire’s hunger was a terrible thing. It sat not in the belly, but in the heart, and it bled over every single part of him.

“Sleep well last night?” he asked Aya that morning, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Like a dove,” she hummed.

A liar, too. What in the Nine Hells did that even mean?

Astarion frowned. He’d have to deal with this sooner rather than later.

.

It wound up being sooner.

The goblin camp was a veritable assault on all his senses: noise and grime and screams. The scent of smoke and blood pervaded the ransacked temple, and he hadn’t eaten in days. Aya had been up every single night, singing with her lute, leaving him no chance to steal away. Nonetheless, she exhibited none of the fatigue she should; instead, she’d carved a path through the cultists like they were butter and she a hot blade.

There was something more to the amnesiac bard, that was certain. This was not the first time she’d killed. The sight of her reveling in their enemies’ deaths was enough to make him very thankful they were on the same side.

That night, when it was finally safe to make camp, and when everyone had fallen into a heavy slumber, he crept towards her bedroll.

His hunger made it hard to think. He’d hoped not to feed on an ally, but he knew what happened when he was deprived of a meal too long.

Surely she was as exhausted as he, if not more, after her little rampage. She wouldn’t stir, if he was careful. If he only took a mouthful… he could make a small cut with his blade, to disguise the bite.

Too hungry to quell his instincts, he leaned in.

Then a calloused hand was at his chest, pinching the fabric in a vice-grip.

It startled him. He jolted away, but couldn’t move; he was stuck. Caught.

“Shit,” he uttered.

Aya was looking up at him, breathing fast, and something in her gaze made him wonder if she was awake at all.

“No- no, it’s not what it looks like,” he said, anxious as her grip tightened. She’d clutched a handful of his shirt and twisted it in her hand with shocking ease, holding him still and off-balance.

“I swear! I wasn’t going to hurt you! I just- needed-” The word tumbled out, surprising and honest. “Blood.”

Aya blinked slowly. Still keeping a firm grip on him, she scooted over on her bedroll and sat up.

“Of course,” she said slowly, her voice thick with slumber. “I’m beginning to understand now. How long since you killed someone in cold blood?” Her lips stretched back, forming a half-smile. “Since Alfira?”

“What?” Astarion yanked himself loose at last—or she released him—and he fell backwards. “No! I’ve never killed anyone. Well. Not for food.”

He looked at her, suspicion flooding his mind along with the deep-seated instinct to appease her. Why bring up Alfira now? He’d never gotten the impression that he was a suspect. He chose his words carefully.

“I feed on animals. Boars, deer, kobolds—whatever I can get. Alfira’s murder was senseless, without rhyme or reason… as you, no doubt, recall.”

There was just a hint of a challenge in his words, and he held onto this challenge resolutely, meeting Aya’s steady gaze with his own.

It was a mistake. He felt something at the edge of his mind—then in the very midst of him. He sucked in a gasp of air as Aya delved further.

“What’s this-?” He looked away as if by doing so he could flee from it. “What’s happening?”

He was being mined for truth.

He’d seen her do this before, without a single care. Seen her bend others to her whims without mercy. He felt a jolt of fear at the idea that he might suffer a similar fate.

His memories were shuffled through like one would flip through the pages of a dull book. Then it was over as quickly as it began.

“You’re being truthful,” Aya muttered. “But don’t act so virtuous. You feed on vermin because you have been forced to. Not out of some noble attempt at morality.”

“I…”

The weight of what had just transpired settled on him, and he realized what she must’ve seen, what she now knew. When he looked at her again he found her alert, inquisitive, albeit tired, with a deep-seated darkness around her eyes.

And there was pity in those eyes. Vile and unwelcome, yet, malleable.

“Yes,” he admitted, gritting his teeth and ignoring the frantic spasms of his starving heart. “Yes, I ate whatever disgusting vermin my master picked. So… you can see why I’m slow to trust you.”

He paused, and thought of the fresh link Aya had just forged between their minds. It was a two-way street, if that was how she wanted to play it. So, somewhat desperate, he gave a push back along the same bridge.

“But I do trust you,” he continued firmly. “And you can trust me.”

“Uh-uh,” Aya said, tapping at her head. “Out.”

“Oh, you started it!”

“No, you started it,” she snapped. “When you tried to feed on me in my sleep.”

The tug of war between their thoughts left him nauseous. “Fine!” Astarion wrinkled his nose and aimed a short-lived glare at her. “I propose a deal, then: No more tadpole powers from you, and no more attempts from me to feed on you. Cross my heart, hope to die, pinky promise and so on-”

“Deal,” Aya said evenly, and with the cadence of someone who surely was crossing her fingers behind her back.

But for now it would do. The uninvited link vanished.

She reclined on her bedroll, and Astarion nearly sighed in relief.

“I’m so glad,” he said, attempting to recapture some of his composure. He should have tried to make a meal of Wyll instead… but it was too late now. He aimed an amicable smile at her. “I trust this can remain, er, our little secret?”

Aya gave a steely nod.

“Thank you,” Astarion sighed. “Thank you ever so much. Well! That being settled, I suppose I should go find a rat to gnaw on or something…”

“Oh, please,” Aya scoffed. “There’s hardly any need for that. I’m right here.”

Astarion frowned. He watched her for a moment, but her meaning became no clearer for it.

“Come again?”

“You’re not well, Astarion,” Aya said quietly. “I could sense it, even before I touched your thoughts. If you can’t fight you’ll just drag us down. So… have your damn meal.”

“You’re… offering?”

“I’m offering.” Aya raised a brow. “Do try to contain your excitement. And take only what you need—not a drop more.”

“Of course,” Astarion said, still in disbelief. “I shall be gentle as a babe.”

He perched himself carefully beside her and felt along her neck. Anatomy varied from person to person; he needed to bite just the right spot, or he’d risk her bleeding out. Aya regarded these preparations with an air of amusement.

When he was ready, he pierced her sweat-tinged skin with his fangs. He was met with a bloom of salt, copper, and beneath that, something he couldn’t name.

Now came the graceless part. Not wanting to waste a drop, he angled his head and clamped around the wound, and drank slowly, but deeply. As the blood settled within him it ushered away his pain, filled him with strength… it made him realize he’d been hungry for months, years, decades.

He was already sated, but the sudden high made it hard to even consider depriving himself of a few more mouthfuls of her blood.

It was like being submerged in a hot bath. It was like a chorus compared to a single voice. There was a presence in it, an awe-inspiring shiver, almost reverent, as if it were not just he and Aya in the tent.

But who else was there, in Aya’s blood?

And should it be such a surprise how different it was from that of the animals he’d subsisted on all his undeath? Not that he had any real point of reference. As he searched the sensation, he felt that there was a message in the red. A message for him, he realized in shock, twitching a little and feeling a thick droplet slide out of his mouth. Aya’s distant voice singing a wordless dirge, and a deeper voice singing with her.

Oh, if he had just a little more, he could understand…

Aya pried him off like a tick, her hand clamped around his gullet.

“Greedy,” she slurred.

He snapped back to lucidity with embarrassing quickness. “Ah,” he said, a stupid syllable mouthed around the last drops of blood he’d taken. He tried to coax his mind back from incoherence, refocusing on her with ease. “Of course. I was just- swept up in the moment.”

He glowed. How wonderful. Was this what Cazador had deprived him of all those centuries? The other spawn would surely simmer with envy and hate if they knew how good blood could taste, how beautiful an afterlife could be; powerful, uninhibited and unstarved. He grinned, flexing his fingers. He felt awareness and keen insight from the very top of his white curls to the very earth below.

Aya, blessed blood, let out a giggle.

“Oooh,” she intoned. “Bit stronger than what you’re used to, huh?”

“Just a bit,” he admitted. “But it worked! I feel good. Strong. Happy.”

She smiled, pressing a rag to the wound to stifle its bleeding. “How nice,” she said in perfect monotone. “Alright. Fuck off now, please and thanks. I must clean up and get back to my perverse dreams.”

Astarion nodded slowly. He’d already pushed his luck and succeeded; no need to push further. As he withdrew from her tent, he glanced over his shoulder, driven to seek some sort of sentimental closure, to counter her rather abrupt dismissal.

“This is a gift, you know. I won’t forget it.”

.

The next day, Aya was unsteady as a newborn fawn.

Thankfully the bulk of the fighting was behind them. As the others ventured forth to pick off the stragglers of the goblin horde, Shadowheart stayed behind to tend to her project.

Astarion pushed down an uneasy rush of feeling when their return from the field found Shadowheart and Aya waiting. There was no mistaking that look—the cleric glowered at him, and from behind her, Aya watched him silently.

“A vampire,” Shadowheart said.

Astarion pursed his lips and looked at Aya, who shrugged with a meager smile.

“That explains the pallor,” Shadowheart continued. “Though it doesn’t explain what you were thinking, feeding off the weakest in our number. Do you think I’m throwing healing magic at her for fun for you to be sapping her strength like this, night after night?”

“What-?” Astarion stammered, but he could recognize an ambush when he walked into one.

“A vampire among us?” Lae’zel asked.

“Aya has been hiding her wounds. She succeeded until this morning. Apparently she’d lost too much blood,” Shadowheart explained.

As if on cue, Aya tugged the collar of her shirt down. At the very least, Astarion could pride himself on doing a tidy job. Two symmetrical little bite wounds were visible on her neck, perfectly placed and not unseemly at all.

Lae’zel recoiled from the sight. “Tsk’va!”

“Hunting with vampires!” Wyll exclaimed. “I never thought I’d see the day.”

“Settle down, everyone, please,” Aya said.

Astarion waited, half-annoyed and half-curious. What was she playing at? Her lie hung tenuously in the air, recognized by no one but he and she. But she was a performer. So he let her perform.

“He trusted me with his secret, and perhaps we should have told everyone sooner, yes… but I saw no harm in letting him feed from me, just a little. Just until he was no longer starving.”

Appealing to their compassion, she turned with her hands outstretched and her eyes wide with feeling.

“He’s been dedicating himself to hunting animal blood as much as possible, to keep from hurting anyone. Should he suffer for what he is? I didn’t believe so. Hopefully neither do you. He fed on me at the grove, and again, the night Alfira…” Her words trailed off, pained.

“So it couldn’t have been him that killed her,” Wyll concluded, watching the display with interest.

The charade clicked in Astarion’s mind.

“Whatever the case, should I wake with so much as a drop of blood on my neck, I will end him,” Lae’zel said.

“Fair enough!” Aya quipped. Before Astarion knew it, she was at his side, one hand gracefully alighting on his shoulder. “You needn’t worry about that. Right, my friend?”

“Right.” Astarion looked at her. Her smile twitched slightly, coaxing him to continue. “And I am terribly sorry for all this?” he added, and Aya squeezed his shoulder gently.

That seemed to do the trick.

As the others walked away to process this new revelation, Astarion set a hand over Aya’s, keeping her close. In the vacuum of truth she had created, it was easy to walk her away from camp, just enough to have a private exchange.

He looked at her, noting the self-satisfied look in her eyes.

“So. That was fun. But tell me something: Why did you do it?” he asked. “Why did you kill Alfira?”

She let out a woozy chuckle. “Not sure. She annoyed me. I think that must be why.”

“I see.” Astarion mulled it over. “That does sound pretty reasonable, actually. But I can do my own lying, you know. You could have… clued me in a little?”

“And you would have played along?” Aya tilted her head, exposing, for a moment, the sinewed shape of neck. Her eyes shone with interest. “Full of surprises, aren’t you?”

Against his better judgment, he laughed.

“I could say much the same for you. Stick around and you’ll see just how surprising I can be.”

[thunderboltfire]

I was having fun with making up their voices! I've also decided to solve a question of languages (languages color-coded to avoid confusion).

Also, this one has quite a lot of tiny text, so I've included transcripts.

[ID: a list illustrated with colored doodles of characters' heads. Titled Who speaks what?

Igna [cartoon picture of Igna's face drawn in brick red color]: Native language: illiraian (southwestern regional form). Understands enough elvish to know when she's being threatened, and can ask for directions, but not much more.

Argo [cartoon picture of Argo's face drawn in sap green color]: Native language: northern elvish. Fluent in illiraian, hardly discernible accent. (it took Igna 3 months to figure out what's off - he rolls 'R' a bit too hard and his vowels sometimes are pronounced too close to the back of his throat).

Theria [cartoon picture of Theria's face drawn in muted brown color]: Native language: Samhran. Fluent in illiraian, audible samhran accent (difficulty pronouncing consonant clusters, palatalising 'L's and 'T"s, mixing up vowels and dyphtongs, sometimes sing-song affect to the vowels). Speaks basic Andaran and broken Omtheron.

Daen [cartoon picture of Daen's face drawn in violet color]: Native language: Moer. Fluent in illiraian, Andaran and gods know what else. Communicative in old elvish. Understands both dwarven languages, but speaks neither. No discernible accent in illiraian.

Haart [cartoon picture of Haart's face drawn in blue]: Native language: Kará (east-dwarvish). Fluent in illiraian (mostly without an

accent, but he often switches soft and hard 'H'). Understands some Andaran and Omtheron. Knows his local variety of sign language.

Knows some expressions in samhran (exclusively swearwords and toasts).]

-

Results: Igna is a spoiled kid, she's the only one in the group who has the luxury of speaking her native language day-to-day. She grew up in complete nowhere, with a very scarce contact with other languages. Tentative A1 in elvish, due to her dad trying to teach her.

Argo probably had the knowledge of Illiraian hammered into his head during his education - inhabitants of Riss speak exclusively a dialect of elvish day-to-day, but the duchy is an enclave, and it would be severely imparing not to know the neighbors' language.

Theria has been away from home long enough to gain a pretty good grasp of Illiraian, and has around B1 level in Andaran. Both spoken with a pretty thick accent, her native language is from a different language family with a strikingly different phototactics, and she's learnt the foreign languages pretty late.

Daen speaks many languages, and all of them pretty well. Maybe it's his long lifespan, but it's possible he's got a knack for language learning.

Haart has had a similar situation to Argo in a sense he's lived in a close neighboorhood of another language and learnt it in childhood. He comes from a merchant house, so it's understandable his family would want him to know foreign languages.

[ID: a scale diagram titled "profanity meter" Left to right: Daen titled "Apocalyptic event indicator", Igna titled "curses when hurt", Argo titled "curses if pissed", Haart titled "curses to emphasise" and Theria titled "Fuck is a sentence divider"]

-

I have to face the fact that Theria most probably has a severe case of unwashed mouth. Her mercenary career spans a good few years when she enters the stage and she doesn't seem like the type to watch her language, so in all probability she doesn't even notice that she curses like a sailor.

[ID: a list titled "Voice and expression". On the left side there's an up-and-down double ended arrow titled "pitch". Characters from top to bottom:

Igna: Easily the highest voice of the group. Clean, and rather strong despite it. Makes an open and honest impression when speaking, fairly good singing voice.

Theria: on the lower side of feminine voices, full-bodied voice with a bit of a vocal fry, on average way louder than the rest of the group. Enjoys singing, but easily dominates a choir

Argo: rather raspy, matte voice. Has a tendency to mutter - the limited sensitivity on the scarred side of his face makes it harder to speak clearly. Speaks quite fast despite of this. Can't hold a note for his life.

Haart: soft, full baritone. Probably the nicest laughter. Nice singing voice, talks with his hands a lot. Makes a characteristic huff when he's nervous.

Daen: low, resonant voice. Clear pronounciation. Reticent, rarely talks more than necessary. Makes a formal impression.]

Last but not least, my trials to work out how would they probably sound like. (I'm not really one to do voiceclaims).

[pyrriax]

ANYWHO goodnight tumblr i'll be back on the art grind tomorrow i think 🙏

[thosetwofirefighters]

find the word challenge

rules: share snippets of your work containing each of the words the previous poster selected for you (optional addition: if you can't find the word in your WIPs, or you simply don't have any WIPs, you can just write a sentence around the word)

thanks @the-likesofus for the tag!! very excited to see how many of these words I've used...

my words are: quiet, hold, cover, first, together, and small. unsurprisingly, my fake dating au (currently sitting at almost 30k words like it has been for the past few months...) has all of these words multiple times lol <3

quiet

Buck’s phone rings, and he pulls it out of his pocket, his hands shaking when he reads Bobby’s contact name. He answers before he can even register it. “Pops?” His voice is quiet and terrified.

hold

Hearing footsteps from his spot on the couch, Buck tenses as Nathan comes up the stairs. It’s been so long, but Buck can still recognize the man’s footfalls. He lets out a breath he’d been subconsciously holding when Nathan finally appears and moves towards one of the armchairs across from him instead of the couch.

cover

“Jurassic Park!” Chris yells, and Buck has to cover his ears against the sound, the kid’s excitement causing him to be louder than usual. “Please, Dad, I know it’s kind of scary, but they just put it back on Netflix, and I’ve seen it before! Plus, I’m ten now, I won’t have nightmares!”

first

“I don’t want you to get hurt again,” Eddie says, meeting Buck’s gaze. His eyes are soft and despite his words, they shine with support, and Buck thinks—not for the first time—how lucky he is to have a best friend like Eddie.

together

Nathan’s study abroad had been nearly over when Buck brought up the idea of him going to Los Angeles to fight fires and help people. Nate had just nodded before taking Buck’s hand and kissing him, saying he’d buy the plane tickets in the morning. Buck had assumed they’d be going back together to be together.

small

Eddie glares at Chim when he insists on playing with the station’s small Hildy gadget that they keep in the kitchen. They mostly use it to play music, but Chimney takes the opportunity to ask her a bunch of questions throughout the day and only stops when Eddie threatens to run her over with a fire truck after Chimney starts asking her questions about the 118 themselves.

words for people I tag: home, care, love, make, and dream

no pressure tagging @mooshkat @jacksadventuresinwriting @ty-in-bedlam @lilbuddie <3

[zyafics-recs]

reblogging comment review from @zyafics

too obsessed with this series to stop (i also think it's so hilarious this started as a oneshot request 😭) ur brain just couldn't stop ⬇️

It was a burden you bore silently, the weight of protecting your brother from a world that seemed determined to break you both.

GIGI WROTE HER FOR ME

There were moments, rare and fleeting when you allowed yourself to dream. You imagined a future where you and JJ were free from the chains of your upbringing. But dreams were a luxury you could rarely afford.

god i love ur writing i swear this fic gets better with a new update

“They chew up people like you.” “I’ve been chewed up by worse.”

oooo reader 1: rafe 0 she ate him up

"Change of plans."Before you could react, he pushed you back inside the room, slamming the door shut. He didn’t push you hard enough to fall, but the treason came so suddenly that you nearly lost your balance as you heard the lock click, the sound echoing ominously in the small space. 

why was this so clever (also rafe's obsession w locking people in rooms 😭)

So, nothing new, you wanted to tell him. Any place infested with men or drunk men was a trap of its own. But instead, you only offered him a curt nod of thanks before dashing out the door again. You needed to find Rafe, you couldn’t afford to waste any time. 

i honestly would've sat in my room n draw or smth

Were you getting mugged?

with no money 😭

His left eye twitched in irritation, the look he gave you filled with enough ire to leave a hint of satisfaction sparking in your chest, “Maybank, I have half a mind to spank you right now, don’t fucking push it.”

hes so kinky (do it)

“Show me.”“Uh?”He nodded towards the gun in your hand. “Show me you know how to handle it.”

i just realized why ur writing is so magnetic; it's because u write almost like a screenplay, like i can visually see all of ur scenes played out on a show or a movie or something; especially your dialogues like it belongs in hollywood

“Atta girl.”

pls sir, just one chance 🛐

“They’re about you.”"Me?" you repeated confused, your voice barely a whisper, as if speaking too loudly would shatter the fragile moment between you. Rafe nodded, scanning your face for any sign of understanding. "Yeah. You."Your brows pulled together, “What is?”He visibly gulped, pressing his lips together, blinking several times before releasing a held breath “The nightmares.”

oh my GODDDD

These were dangerous waters. If you couldn’t sleep before, you sure as hell weren’t about to do it now. All you could think about was that night, how he felt, how he touched you, how he fit right. 

im giggling so hard rn

“Tell me stop, please,” His mouth brushed against your ear again, words coming out a slurred mess.

he's so whiny i love him

“Can’t belie—fuck. Can’t believe I get to have you again.”

i'm so quiet during this smut scene bc im enjoying it too much

He collapsed onto you, both of you panting and trembling. His weight was comforting, his breath hot against your neck as he pressed soft kisses to your skin, his earlier roughness giving way to a tender aftermath.

he's so hot ohmyfuckinggod

He cradled your face in his hands. "We’re gonna be okay," his breath felt warm against your lips. The sincerity in his voice made your chest tighten with emotion.

back to our regular scheduled program: emotions

"Yeah, I am. This...And—don’t know what I’m doing either. But I want it. I want you."“But it’s wrong.”“I know, pretty.”

they r so enemies to lovers u did this so well

"We’ll figure this out, Maybank.”“Promise?”He hesitated, his brow furrowing slightly. Promises weren’t something he was used to making, you knew that. But then he nodded.“Promise.”

i love them so much i could cry

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

FINAL THOUGHTS | god this smut scene was TOO good i gotta say ur best work to DATE 🤭 okay, okay, but onto the real business. i think what i love about this part (i think this has to be my favorite part by far) is that, like i said, ur writing plays out like a movie. the way you describe things with such beautiful prose and the way their dialogues bounce off each other. i always compliment your dialogues because it's so true, i am in absolute love with the way it feels so rich and organic and unpredictable (not in a bad way). like there's a conventional storytelling to certain scenes/dialogues but you always manage to surpass expectations and make it innovative and engaging! i fucking love how you build the intimacy through rafe and reader through touch and little acts where you have to read between the lines to understand. and when i get them? 🫠 reader is so independent and stands on her own shit which i love and it reminds me a little too much like me (who said that) but overall, for this specific part, i was obsessed with their banter during the gun scene, and during the smut (of course) but just truly, the way you WRITE it's so so incredible. i'm trying to find better words to explain myself. i love how rafe was yearning for her so badly during the smut, but he backed off bc she said so, and kept asking for clarity and she gave it. it gave me butterflies fr (u saw how quiet i was during that whole scene i barely annotated) and i love the way he kept praising her (blushing fr 🥰) because ur dirty talk is TOP TIER!!! and lastly lastly, the way their fears is embedded in things changing and how they have to confront this new reality of them falling for each other 💘

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

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

WARNINGS: maybank!reader; smut!; rafe is a red flag; guns; mentions of human trafficking; 80% of it is smut you've been warned;

word count: 7.9k...

part i; part ii; part iv

Growing up, you had to develop a thick skin. With two deadbeat parents, it wasn't a choice—it was a necessity. Unlike JJ, you never blamed your mother for leaving. She was a victim too, and despite your nightly wishes and prayers that she had taken you with her, you found solace in knowing that at least one of you had escaped the torment of the Maybank household.

You learned early on to rely only on yourself. While you had your younger brother, you never placed that burden on his shoulders. As the older sister, it was your responsibility to take the blame for everything and to shield him from Luke's drunken or drug-fueled rages. You never resented JJ for it, you couldn’t—neither of you asked to be born into this situation.

You tried to take each day slowly, avoiding the house and staying at John B's as much as possible. It was easier said than done; it was hard not to feel like a burden to your friends, especially since you were the one who had to be the adult in the group. Kie, Pope, John B…They weren’t supposed to take care of you. And yet, they did. They took you in, shared their homes, and gave you the semblance of family you craved but never had. It was a delicate balance, living with a foot in both worlds: the chaotic storm of the Maybank household and the calm haven of your friends' places.

At John B's, despite its share of brokenness, it provided a refuge where you could breathe without the constant fear of violence. You often found yourself on the porch, watching the sunset over the marsh, your mind wandering to dreams of freedom. Those moments were precious, tiny pockets of peace in a turbulent life. But no matter how much you tried to distance yourself from the chaos, it was always there, lurking in the background.

Luke Maybank’s shadow was long and dark, and it followed you everywhere. Each time your phone buzzed with a message from JJ, your heart would race, fearing the worst. It was a burden you bore silently, the weight of protecting your brother from a world that seemed determined to break you both.

You eased into being the provider, to think, to act, to protect. It became second nature, an ingrained part of your identity forged from necessity. While others your age worried about trivial matters, you were strategizing the best ways to keep your brother safe, figuring out how to stretch what little money you had, and ensuring that there was always something for JJ to eat, even if it meant you went without. 

You learned how to calm Luke down when he was on the brink of a violent outburst, and how to read the signs of an impending storm in his eyes. You figured out which neighbors might turn a blind eye to your requests for help, and which ones might call social services if they saw too much. There were moments, rare and fleeting when you allowed yourself to dream. You imagined a future where you and JJ were free from the chains of your upbringing. But dreams were a luxury you could rarely afford.

So, when Rafe told you—no, demanded—that you stayed in the deadbeat motel room while he met up with his contacts, you lost it. 

He'd gotten the text earlier in the morning and decided he was smart enough to lure you out of this. Except he wasn't.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re not going.”

You didn’t take it lightly to people making choices for you. Your eyebrows shot up, mouth opening in indignant shock, "You think you can just order me around like I'm some puppet? I'm not staying here while you go off and do God knows what.”

Rafe's eyes narrowed. He wasn’t used to people standing up to him, and for a moment, he looked like he might’ve backed down. But then his expression hardened, the arrogance, and entitlement you’d grown to familiarize yourself with flaring up again.

"It's for your own good," he said, his tone condescending. "You don't understand the kind of people I'm dealing with. It's dangerous."

"Dangerous?" you laughed, a harsh, bitter sound. "You think I don’t know what danger is? Look around, Cameron.”

Rafe opened his mouth to retort, but you cut him off, stepping closer and jabbing a finger into his chest. You’d done a lot of that recently.

"It’s my life on the line too,” you said, your voice low and steady. "And I’m not going to sit here and wait for you to come back like some obedient little bitch.”

His face practically matched the color of the deep red curtains, “You’re making this a lot harder than it needs to be, Maybank.”

"No, you are," you fired back. "I’m going with you.”

“No.”

“I wasn’t asking.”

He took a step away from you, fingers pointed at his temples, “What part of fucking dangerous do you not get?”

“If it’s dangerous for me, it’s dangerous for you.”

The defiance in your fixed look mirrored his own stubbornness. Rafe’s jaw clenched, the muscles in his neck tensing visibly. His gaze bore into yours, and you’d be damned if you were the first one to look away.

“This isn’t a game,” he said, his voice tight with frustration. “You have no idea what these people are capable of.”

“Maybe not,” you conceded, “But I’m not staying behind and you’re not going alone.”

He let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand along his grown-out hair. 

“They chew up people like you.”

 “I’ve been chewed up by worse.”

He knew that. For a moment it looked like he might’ve argued. And then, he saw the determination in you, that unyielding resolve that drove him up the fucking walls and he understood that he wasn’t going to win the fight. Unless he played dirty. 

“You’re too stubborn, y’know that, right?”

You chose to ignore him, grabbing the simple sweater he’d gotten for you the day before at a local market, “So, when do we leave?”

He almost sprinted to the door, “Now.”

You moved to follow him as he stepped outside into the hallway, but before you could follow, he grabbed your arm.

"Wait."

You almost pulled away, frustration boiling over.

"What now?"

His grip tightened, "This might hurt.”

"What?" You tried to twist free, glaring at him.

"Change of plans."

Before you could react, he pushed you back inside the room, slamming the door shut. He didn’t push you hard enough to fall, but the treason came so suddenly that you nearly lost your balance as you heard the lock click, the sound echoing ominously in the small space. 

"Rafe! You piece of shit!” You pounded on the door, fury and panic mixing in your chest. "Let me out! You can't do this!"

His voice was muffled but firm from the other side. "Stay here.”

"You motherfucker!" You screamed, kicking the door. But there's no response from the other side. The only sound was the echo of your own frantic breathing. He was gone, the stupid bastard.

You collapsed against the door, your breath coming in ragged gasps. Rafe just left you there, locked like some helpless child. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall.

You were a Maybank, damn it, and Maybanks didn’t back down from a fight, even when their choices were taken from them.

In any other situation, you would’ve jumped out the window. You’d done it enough times back home, but this was different. Your room’s floor was too high and even though you could get away with just a few scrapes or a broken finger, you couldn’t risk putting yourself in such a vulnerable state. You needed your body intact in case danger was nearby. If you had to run for your life, you needed both legs functioning. 

You glanced around the room, eyes landing on the bed, its frame sturdy and dependable.

That’s it! You thought to yourself as you rushed over and began to strip the sheets from the mattress, working quickly as you tied them together, creating a makeshift rope.

And they said pogues weren’t fucking smart.

It wasn’t your best work, but it was the best you could have under the circumstances. Once you had fashioned the rope, you secured one end to the bed frame, testing it to ensure it could hold your weight. Satisfied that it was sturdy enough, you tossed the other end out the window, watching as it unfurled down the side of the building. 

Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, you gripped the makeshift rope tightly and began to lower yourself out the window. It wasn’t your first rodeo; you knew better than to rush. Your heart pounded in your chest as you slowly inched your way down the side of the building, the ground looming ever closer with each passing moment. 

Finally, your feet touched solid ground, and you released a breath you didn't realize you were holding. You tried to remember bits and pieces of information Rafe had laid out the night before, about the meeting, something about a dingy marine bar, a bartender named Miguel. 

You rushed back inside the motel, ignoring the puzzled look from the front desk guy as you practically demanded information about the bar. He hesitated clearly taken aback by your urgency, the way you blurted out the words, but you didn’t have time for explanations.

"Just tell me where it is," you pleaded, your voice urgent, “It’s important.”

After a moment of hesitation, he relented, quickly scribbling down an address on a piece of paper and thrusting it into your hand.

"It's not far from here," his tone was wary, "But be careful. That place is no good for a lady on her own.”

So, nothing new, you wanted to tell him. Any place infested with men or drunk men was a trap of its own. But instead, you only offered him a curt nod of thanks before dashing out the door again. You needed to find Rafe, you couldn’t afford to waste any time. 

You nearly raced through the streets, the address clutched tightly in your hand, a feeling of unease gnawing at the pit of your stomach. And then, before you could process what the hell was going on, a hand enveloped your upper arm, fingers digging dip in your flesh before you could make a turn, dragging you to the dark alley you’d avoided.

The situation felt all too familiar. Your heart leaped into your throat, adrenaline surging in and out of your veins. Instinctively, you struggled against the unknown grip, kicking and clawing in a desperate attempt to break free. Were you getting mugged?

"Let go of me!" you shout, your voice echoing off the narrow walls of the alley, “I got nothing on me, let me go you stupid fuck!”

With a surge of adrenaline, you mustered all your strength and delivered a sharp elbow to your captor's stomach, causing them to grunt in pain and loosen their hold for a brief moment. You wrenched yourself free, stumbling backward as you scrambled to put some distance between you and your attacker. You were about to land the best punch of your life as you spun around to face them, but as you finally got a good look at him, fear turned into anger. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you!”

“Me?” Rafe barked, all up in your personal space, “What the fuck is wrong with you? You jumped out a fucking window?!”

He knew you wouldn’t back down so easily. So he waited around the corner, hoping you were smart enough to keep still even though he knew you would never.

You blinked, the shock of seeing him in front of you momentarily overriding your anger. "You... You locked me in there!"

"Yeah, because you wouldn't listen!" he shot back, his frustration evident in his tone, “Fuck—Jesus fucking Christ.” He was shaking his head wildly, his hands balled into fists as he cursed away like a mantra. 

"I told you; I'm not staying behind while you go off risking your life!" You nearly spit but managed to tone down just enough.

"And I told you, it's too dangerous for you!" Rafe's voice rose with each word, his hands balling into fists at his sides. His pacing intensified, his agitation palpable in the confined space of the alley. “What the hell were you thinking? What were you gonna do? Walk in and what, huh? You don't even have a gun on you!"

“So? Give me yours!”

Rafe’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Give you, my gun?! Did you hit your fucking head against the concrete?

“I’ll hit your head against the concrete if I have to.”

His left eye twitched in irritation, the look he gave you filled with enough ire to leave a hint of satisfaction sparking in your chest, “Maybank, I have half a mind to spank you right now, don’t fucking push it.”

You ignored him, “You’d rather I go in there unarmed?” you shot back, your voice dripping with sarcasm, “I can do it.”

“Clearly. Look at you,” Rafe’s voice was sharp, his frustration evident. “You think I wanted to leave you behind? You think I liked putting you in that room?”

“You didn't give me a choice! You think I was just gonna sit around waiting for you?”

Rafe sighed, palms pressing into his eyes “I’m trying to protect you, God fucking damn it. I’m trying to keep you safe.”

“Save it,” You hissed out, pressing a hand to your chest as though to keep everything in. “How am I supposed to trust you when you pull this—this shit!”

Rafe reached into the waistband of his trousers, his movements slow and deliberate. Your breath caught in your throat as he pulled out his gun, lifting his shirt in the process. He took your hand and dropped it into your palm, his touch firm.

“Show me.”

“Uh?”

He nodded towards the gun in your hand. “Show me you know how to handle it.”

The sudden shifts in his attitude always left you speechless. You hesitated, staring at the weapon in your hand. You had never held a gun before, let alone fired one. But the authority in Rafe’s eyes spurred you to action. With trembling fingers, you checked the safety and made sure the gun was loaded, trying to mimic what you had seen in movies.

“Alright,” Rafe said, his voice low. “Now, point it at me.”

You only gaped in disbelief. “What?!”

“I said point it at me,” he repeated, his tone firm, “C’mon.”

You swallowed hard, your grip tightening on the gun. This was crazy. With shaky hands, you raised the gun, aiming it at Rafe’s chest. Your heart pounded in your ears, the weight of the weapon feeling heavier with each passing second.

“Good,” Rafe said, nodding in approval. “Now, pull the trigger.”

“What the hell?! Rafe?!”

“Trust me, Maybank, just once.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

Pull the trigger? He wasn’t fucking serious, was he? You couldn’t actually shoot him, could you?

But Rafe’s expression remained steady, unwavering. Maybe months ago you would’ve done it without a second guess, now? “I’m not pulling the trigger.”

“Just do it. You’re not going to hurt me, okay?”

With a deep breath, you squeezed the trigger, half expecting the gun to recoil in your hand. But nothing happened. You had forgotten to chamber a round. He knew that already.

Rafe’s mouth twitched in a half-smile, as if the entire situation was normal, “You forgot to chamber a round.”

You watched him carefully, his bottom lip stuck out and, embarrassingly, you found you wanted to kiss him. You lowered the gun, your hands shaking with adrenaline. You had just fired a weapon for the first time in your life. He reached out and gently took the gun from your hand, expertly chambering a round before handing it back to you. 

“Try again.”

This time, when you aimed the gun at the wall and pulled the trigger, you felt the recoil jolt along your body as the bullet fired. The sound echoed off the walls of the alley, causing your heart to race even faster.

“Atta girl.”

“I’m still pissed, Cameron.”

“I know,” Rafe conceded, his voice softening slightly as he reached up to brush your hair from your eye, fingers grazing the side of your neck.  “I panicked, okay?”

You studied him for a moment, taking in the tired lines around his eyes, the way his shoulders sagged with exhaustion. He’d done so much for you over the past weeks, it shook you to the core. The countless times he had gone above and beyond, selflessly putting your needs before his own. So maybe, just maybe…you could let it go. 

“Okay.”

"Let's go.”

“Wait, right now?”

“Yeah,” Rafe said, his tone brisk as he holstered the gun. "We’re late.”

⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Hours later, you collapsed onto the bed, the weight of what just transpired settling heavily on your shoulders, as you and Rafe sat in silence, the events of the meeting replaying in your mind like a broken record. You’d never met such a group of people before. And you didn’t want to, ever again.

"Human traffickers," you muttered, the words feeling foreign on your tongue. "I can't believe we just met with human traffickers."

Rafe nodded solemnly; his expression unreadable. "Yeah.”

"I don't trust them. What if... What if they decide to snatch us up and... Oh my god, what if this is all just a ploy..."

“Hey, look at me,” he said, voice weirdly soft, “We’re in this together, okay? I won’t let anything happen to you.”

You wanted to believe him.

Your brow furrowed, your mind racing with questions. “How do you even know these people?”

He hesitated, “Barry. It’s... a long story. But right now, what’s important is that we got a way out, yeah?”

You nodded slowly, realizing that asking him for more information wouldn’t get you anywhere. There were more important matters at hand. 

You didn’t know what was worse, running from Ward Cameron, finding yourself at the mercy of human traffickers, or potentially developing feelings for someone who’d ruined so many lives. 

God, if your brother saw you now…you’d be the greatest disappointment of his life. The mere idea consumed you entirely. The things you’d done.

The way you’d let Rafe into your bloodstream. You hated yourself for it. Everything felt like it was spiraling out of your grasp, and you hated it.

What would you even tell him? You didn’t even know if had made it, but something told you that he did. He always did. And that meant that sooner or later you’d see him, and you’d have to watch him gradually despise you. 

And then there was Rafe. The very thought of him made you want to stop breathing altogether. How could you even begin to reconcile the feelings you harbored for someone who had brought so much pain and destruction into your life? It felt like a betrayal to even consider it.

“You good, Maybank?”

You dragged your gaze away from the swirling fan on the ceiling to meet Rafe's concerned stare. He was studying you intently. You shifted on the bed, turning to face him fully. 

"I don’t know,” you muttered, forcing a weak smile that didn't quite reach your eyes, “You?”

He reached out to gently tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His touch always surprised you, how surprisingly light it felt, a stark contrast to the chaos that seemed to constantly surround him.

“I don’t know.”

He had every reason to abandon you, to wash his hands clean of the entire situation, but he hadn’t. You nodded, a lump forming in your throat. It was hard to believe that someone like him could be capable of such tenderness, such vulnerability. But there he was, lying beside you, his attention fixed on you with an intensity that made your heart race.

“They’re about you.”

"Me?" you repeated confused, your voice barely a whisper, as if speaking too loudly would shatter the fragile moment between you. 

Rafe nodded, scanning your face for any sign of understanding. "Yeah. You."

Your brows pulled together, “What is?”

He visibly gulped, pressing his lips together, blinking several times before releasing a held breath “The nightmares.”

You almost stopped breathing, "What about them?" 

He shifted uncomfortably, “They used to be just about my mom. Then dad. Now, it’s—uh, it’s just you. Ever since that night, it’s just you. Dying, because of—yeah.”

Oh. 

You hadn’t realized the extent of the impact that night had on him, on both of you. It was a lot to process, the realization that you had become a part of his nightmares, a constant haunting presence in his thoughts. Rafe’s fingers brushed over the scar on your arm, and a rush of memories flooded your mind. The gunshots, the crippling fear you felt when they got to you, how Rafe reacted, how he touched you. 

“You should’ve told me before.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

You flinched instinctively at his touch, the sensation sending a jolt of electricity through your body. But as it lingered, a strange sense of comfort washed over you, like a balm soothing an old wound. For a moment, you let yourself lean into his touch, allowing the warmth of his hand to chase away the ghosts that haunted you.

"Does it still hurt?" He asked, leaning in so his nose brushed against yours; it was warm against your skin. 

You shook your head, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. "Not anymore."

His fingers continued their path up, eventually reaching your cheek as he cupped it tenderly, carefully, as if he’d break you if he rushed it. 

You closed your eyes, savoring the closeness between you. And then, almost hesitantly, you felt him lean in, his mouth brushing against yours in a delicate caress. You hardly had to move to kiss him, only tilting your chin up. It was tender, different from the ones you had before, just so quiet that it made you want to burst into tears. 

Once again, you felt a rush of conflicting emotions coursing between you. Guilt, fear, desire, all intertwined in a tumultuous dance within your heart.

You kissed him back, tentatively at first, then with a growing hunger that mirrored the longing you felt deep within your soul. His hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer as if afraid to let you slip away. And you melted into his embrace, your bodies fitting together like two pieces of a puzzle. In that moment, nothing else mattered. Not the dangers lurking in the shadows, not the weight of your past sins, not the uncertain future that lay ahead. All that existed was the intoxicating feeling between you and Rafe. 

But as the kiss deepened, a voice of reason scolded you in the back of your mind, reminding you of the consequences of your actions. You pulled away, breathless and dizzy, your heart pounding in your chest.

“We shouldn’t…” you mumbled, your voice barely audible over the beating of your heart.

Rafe only stared, before he nodded, understanding dawning in him. He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, his touch lingering like a promise of things left unsaid.

“I know,” he sighed, “Just get some rest.”

You nodded in agreement, grateful for the distraction. With a heavy grunt, you lifted yourself off the bed, making your way to the bathroom to change into some booty shorts and a simple tee. When you emerged from the bathroom, Rafe was already settled on the bed, only in his boxers, his attention fixed on some point in the distance. You hesitated for a moment before joining him, the distance and closeness between you feeling suffocating. 

You wanted to say something, anything to break the tension, but the words stuck in your throat like a lump of lead. Instead, you settled for a nod, and a quiet “Goodnight.” 

You slipped under the covers, the warmth of the blankets cocooning you in a false sense of security. 

“Night, pretty Maybank.”

You shut your eyelids, willing your racing mind to quiet down. But no matter how hard you tried, sleep eluded you, slipping through your fingers like grains of sand. Every creak of the floorboards, every distant sound of passing cars sent a shiver down your spine, your senses heightened to the point of paranoia. You shifted restlessly in bed, the new sheets tangling around your legs like shackles, trapping you in a prison of your own making. 

You heard Rafe's voice beside you, breaking the silence of the room, “Can’t sleep if you keep moving.”

“Sorry.”

Rafe reached out, his hand finding yours in the darkness, “What is it?”

“I can’t sleep.”

Rafe's hand tightened around yours, "I know, Maybank," he spoke in a ushed tone, "But you're safe here. Try to relax, okay?"

You squeezed your eyes shut, already feeling the upcoming headache, “I don’t know how to.”

It was quiet again for a minute and you feared you’d bored the man to sleep with your insecurities, but then he spoke again, “Turn around.”

You opened your eyes, even though you could barely see him, face twisting into confusion.

“What?”

Rafe's thumb gently brushed against the back of your hand in a soothing rhythm, “Turn round f’me, kay?”

With a soft sigh, you shifted, turning onto your side to face away from him.

Rafe moved closer, his body pulling against yours as he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you snugly against his chest. His warmth enveloped you like a shield as he pressed a light kiss to the back of your neck, his lips lingering against your skin. 

“There,” he whispered, his breath tickling your ear. “Better?”

Oh fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

These were dangerous waters. If you couldn’t sleep before, you sure as hell weren’t about to do it now. All you could think about was that night, how he felt, how he touched you, how he fit right. 

Your pulse quickened, and your skin tingled. An almost overwhelming feeling of arousal took over you, and with whatever courage you had left from the day, you shifted again, pressing yourself impossibly closer to him. His warmth seeped into your skin, melting away the tension that had coiled tight in your muscles during the day, you could feel every ridge and turn of his body.

Your touch drew a low, guttural groan from Rafe, his breath hot against your skin as he pressed closer, his arousal unmistakable against your back. His teeth grazed your shoulder, followed by the flick of his tongue, and you released a breathy sigh as he lowered his head to bite the area.

His arm tightened around you as you traced the contours of his fingers, mapping out the familiar territory with ease and want. His heartbeat echoed against your back, a steady rhythm that matched the frantic beat of your own heart.

His lips brushed against your neck, sending a jolt of electricity straight to your core, “Relax,” he murmured, his voice low and hoarse with purpose, “’M right here.”

With a boldness that surprised even yourself, you shifted your hips, grinding back against him, seeking the friction that would ease the ache between your legs and your head. Rafe's response was immediate, his hands roaming over your body with a fervor that left you dizzy. His fingers found their way to the hem of your shorts, teasing the sensitive skin with feather-light touches that sent shivers down your spine. You twisted your fingers into his long hair, tugging lightly, delighting in the gasp it pulled from him.

“Tell me stop, please,” His mouth brushed against your ear again, words coming out a slurred mess.

You ran you finger over his leg, where his boxers had risen, the warm skin driving you insane. If you lifted your fingers just a little higher, you’d be able to feel all of him.

You had to bite back a squeal when his thumb brushed over your covered nipple, “I can’t.”

You felt the tension in his muscles as he paused for a moment, his grip on you tightening. An unrestrained, almost desperate plea escaping his mouth, "Are you sure?"

You swallowed hard, the weight of his question settling over you. The uncertainty, the fear, and the desire all came down together in a chaotic swirl. This was so fucking wrong. But underneath it all, you knew what you wanted. You turned your head slightly, your lips grazing his jawline as you muttered a "Yes."

You gasped when Rafe raised his thigh, placing it between your own, as he used his hands on your hips to guide you back and forth, grinding you down against his skin. You couldn’t remember a time you’d ever felt so out of control, so desperate for someone’s touch. The thin barrier of your shorts and panties felt like an unbearable hindrance, a small but significant obstruction to the shattering desire coursing through your veins.

One of his hands slipped under the waistband of your panties, the other splaying across your stomach, holding you firmly in place. His fingers found you slick and ready, a whimper vibrating across his chest at the discovery.

“Fuck,” he breathed out, his fingers starting a slow, torturous rhythm against your clit. You bucked against his hand, seeking more, needing more. Your head fell back against his shoulder, and you turned slightly to capture his lips in a heated kiss. You felt his tongue press against yours and you nearly came on the spot. He slowly circled your clit, sending your hips jerking into him, “I can’t stop touching you.”

You struggled to form words as breathy moans escaped your mouth, “Please don’t,” you rasped, your thoughts blurring as he dipped the tips of his fingers inside you, gathering your wetness. When you finally found your voice, it was a mere screech, “Rafe...”

“I’ve got you,” he murmured back, finally pushing two fingers inside you, at an agonizing pace, “I’ve got you.”

Your jaw went slack as he curled his thick fingers, a gasp escaping when he found that spot that made you see stars. Your nails involuntarily dug into his skin. The heel of his hand pressed against your clit, pulling another moan from you. With his other hand still on your hip, he pushed you back, guiding you to grind against his fingers.

The rhythm he set was maddening, each movement driving you closer to the edge. Rafe's breath was hot against your neck, his voice a growl as he removed his fingers, making you whine in protest.

He glided one between your folds, the wetness easing up the process, “You’re so fucking perfect,” he muttered, his words sending a thrill down your spine. “Can’t get enough of you.”

“Ra—You’re gonna make me cum,” you gasped as his arm left your waist, sliding underneath your ribcage and resting on your chest, kneading your breast through the fabric of your shirt, “Fuck.”

“Yeah, baby, that’s the point,” he purred into your ear, two fingers sliding inside you again, so suddenly you threw your head back again, thighs clenching together tightly as he pumped his fingers in and out.

At this point, you were lightheaded, fucking yourself back onto him, grinding down as you chased your orgasm. 

“Don’t stop,” you begged, your voice trembling with desperation. “Please, Rafe...”

His fingers quickened their pace, each thrust sending oceans of pleasure down your body. “Not stopping,” he promised, his voice a rough whisper. “Want to feel you cum around my fingers.”

His words sent you spiraling, the buzz building to an unbearable peak. Your breath came in ragged gasps, your body trembling with the intensity of your approaching climax. Rafe's touch was relentless, his fingers curling inside you, hitting that perfect spot over and over.

“Rafe—” you cried out, your voice breaking as your orgasm crashed over you, wave after wave of intense pleasure radiating from your core. Your body convulsed, and you clung to him, nails digging into his arm as you rode out the ecstasy.

Rafe held you without a break, his fingers never slowing, drawing out every last tremor of your release. When you finally came down, breathless and spent, he gently withdrew his fingers, not giving you a break to breathe as he shuffled behind you, pulling his boxers down, just enough to release his aching cock, doing the same to you as he slid his length between your folds.

The sensation was…everything, his heaviness pressing against your sensitive, slick entrance, the heat of him making you shiver. You bit your lip, suppressing a scream as Rafe's hand gripped your hip, holding you steady.

“Fuck,” you breathed out, barely able to form coherent thoughts. The anticipation coiled inside you again, your body already aching for him, “’M sensitive.”

“Shhhh,” he purred, his voice husky and all rough against your ear. “Just relax, pretty.”

He rocked his hips slowly, the head of his fat cock teasing your entrance, not pushing in but sliding between your folds, spreading your wetness over his length. Holy fuck, you’d gone to heaven. The friction was maddening, each movement sending volumes of satisfaction through you.

Rafe's breath hitched, his grip on your hip tightening as he struggled for control. “You feel so good,” he groaned, his voice thick with desire. “So perfect.”

“Oh my god,” you sigh, biting your lip when his tip bumped against your clit, “I need you to—Shit, just fuck me.”

With a slow, deliberate motion, he angled his hips and began to push inside you, inch by tantalizing inch. The stretch was exquisite, slowly filling you in a way that left you gasping, your body accommodating him with a shuddering breath.

“Jesus,” Rafe hissed, his head dropping to rest against your shoulder as his cock twitched inside you. “So tight.”

Your fingers dug into the sheets, the thrill and the sensation of being filled to the hilt almost too much to bear. You could feel every part of him, the way he throbbed inside you, the way his body fit perfectly against yours. You felt his breathing against your skin, coming out in uneven and ragged breaths.

He started a slow, steady rhythm, each thrust measured and deep, pulling out almost completely before pushing back in. His other hand found your breasts, kneading the sensitive flesh through your shirt, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core.

You couldn’t hold back the mewls that escaped your lips, each movement driving you higher, the tension building again rapidly. Rafe’s breath was ragged against your ear, his lips brushing your skin in sloppy, open-mouthed kisses. He gently bit your earlobe, withdrawing his hips until only the tip of him remained inside you, before slowly pushing back in with deliberate, languid movements. You reached back, tangling your fingers in his hair once again.

“Rafe... harder, please,” you begged, shame thrown out the window, “I need it harder.”

He moaned, the sound vibrating through his chest as he complied, his hips snapping against you with more force, the sound of skin against skin filling the room. His hand slid down from your chest to your clit, circling the sensitive nub in time with his thrusts, driving you closer to the edge.

You felt the familiar coil of pleasure tightening, your body tensing as you teetered on the brink.

“Can’t belie—fuck. Can’t believe I get to have you again.”

You curved your back again, meeting his thrusts with equal fervor, your body craving the release that was so close. His hand on your clit moved in time with his hips, each touch sending you spiraling higher.

“I can’t hold on much longer,” you gasped, your voice barely more than a breathless whimper.

“Then let go,” Rafe growled, his fingers pressing harder against your clit. “Cum for me, baby. I want to feel you.”

You groaned, “I want to see you when I do.”

Before he could answer, you pulled away from him, making him groan in response, but you shut him up as you turned to face him, dragging your shorts and panties out of the way, not looking where you threw them as you quickly lifted your body and settled over his, hands pressed to his naked chest as you rubbed yourself against him. 

Rafe's hands gripped your hips firmly as you positioned yourself above him, “You trying to kill me, pretty Maybank?”

You smirked, leaning down to press a quick peck against his lips, “Yeah.”

Without any warning, you lowered yourself onto him, both gasping at the sensation of being joined once again. He filled you completely, stretching you in the most delicious way, his tip touching your cervix. Your movements were slow at first, savoring all of him, every sensation that rippled from end to end of your body. But soon, the slow burn of desire ignited into a raging inferno, and you found yourself moving faster, chasing that peak of pleasure one more time.

“Get this fucking thing off,” He growled, pulling at your shirt. You would’ve found it funny if you weren’t so desperate to feel him.

You sat up, quickly tugging the shirt over your head and tossing it aside. Rafe's eyes darkened with lust as he took in your bare chest, his hands immediately finding your tits, thumbs brushing over your nipples in a way that made you gasp and arch into his touch. You started to move again, lifting yourself up before sinking back down onto him, each movement sending waves of desire through both of you.

A filthy kiss followed, all spit and tongues tangling messily as if trying to devour each other whole. The taste of him filled your mouth, a heady mixture of the cigarettes and toothpaste, his moans mingling with yours. The kiss was a brutal assault, his teeth nipping at your lips, drawing blood, which only seemed to fuel the frenzied rhythm of your body. Rafe's grip on your hips tightened, guiding your movements, and encouraging you to take him deeper, pounding into you, abs flexing.

You leaned forward, your hands bracing against his sturdy chest, the new angle allowing him to hit even deeper inside you. The room was filled with the sound of your heavy breathing, your cries, and the rhythmic, filthy, slap of skin against skin.

“Fuck, this pussy can’t be real,” Rafe groaned, his eyes locked onto yours, the intensity of his gaze making your heart race. “Ride me harder, baby. Wanna watch you.”

You increased your pace, the friction and fullness driving you closer to the edge with each thrust. His hands moved from your hips to your waist, holding you steady as you moved, his touch grounding you even as you felt like you were about to come apart at the seams. His thumb found your clit again, rubbing it in tight, precise circles that had you crying out his name.

“Oh god, Rafe, I’m so close,” you panted, your body trembling with the effort to hold back your release, wanting to savor every second of this moment.

“Cum for me, pretty,” he urged his voice rough and filled with need. “I want to feel you cum all over my cock.”

That was all it took. With a loud moan, you came, your body convulsing around him, your nails digging into his chest as the phases of your pleasure crashed over you. Rafe watched you, his expression one of pure awe and desire, his hands never leaving your body, grounding you through your orgasm. As your climax subsided, your breathing ragged and your limbs trembling, he gently kissed your temple, his lips soft and tender. He murmured soothing words, his voice a sexy whisper that sent shivers down your spine. You felt his heartbeat, steady and strong against your own racing pulse, a reminder of the connection between you. His fingers traced lazy circles on your back, calming you, bringing you back to earth. 

But as the waves subsided, you became acutely aware of Rafe's cock still hard and throbbing inside you. His breath was ragged, his eyes void of any color, and you knew he was on the brink. You lifted yourself slightly, feeling him slip almost out of you before you sank back down, taking him deep again, despite the way your thighs burned, the way your hole ached.

"Rafe," you called, "I want to feel you cum inside me."

His grip on you tightened, his eyes briefly closing as a guttural moan escaped his lips. He released you for a moment, only to bring his hand down sharply, delivering a stinging smack to your ass, "Watch your fucking mouth.”

The sudden impact made you gasp, the pain amplifying your desire.

Rafe's eyes snapped open, dark and intense as he watched your reaction. "You like that, don't you?" he growled, "Look at you."

You could only nod, breathless and aching for more. His hands returned to your hips, guiding your movements with a renewed urgency. The sting from the slap lingered, a delicious reminder of his dominance, the only place you'd let him take the lead.

You started to move again, your pace slow and deliberate, your movements designed to drive him wild. Each time you sank onto him, you could feel him throbbing, his control slipping with every passing second. His hands roamed over your body, fingers digging into the flesh of your ass as he tried to hold on.

"Please, baby," you whined, "I need to feel you cum."

The pet name did it. His response was immediate. With a growl, he shifted, flipping you onto your back and pinning you beneath him.

The sudden change made you gasp, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he drove into you with a powerful thrust. His pace was relentless, his movements fueled by a desperate need to reach his release. His face was a mask of intense concentration, his jaw clenched as he pounded into you. The sounds of your “oh’s” mixed with his grunts, creating a symphony of raw passion. You could feel the tension coiling inside him, the way his body strained against yours, every muscle taut with anticipation.

"Gonna fill you up,” he grounded out, his voice strained, "So fucking close."

You tightened your legs around him, pulling him deeper, your nails raking down his back, leaving red trails in their wake. "Cum for me, baby," you urged, your desire reigniting at the thought of him finding his release, “Need you so bad.”

His eyes snapped open, locking onto yours with a feral intensity. "You want my cum?" he growled, thrusting harder, making you cry out in pleasure. "Beg for it."

"Please, Rafe," you gasped, feeling the pressure building inside you, "Fill me up. I need it. I need you."

With a final, powerful thrust, Rafe's body stiffened, his head dropping to rest against your shoulder as he let out a hoarse cry. You felt the hot rush of his release, the pulsing of his cock as he emptied himself inside you. His entire body trembled, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps as he rode out his orgasm. You could feel him pulsing, the warmth flooding you as he let out a primal growl, his grip on you almost bruising. And right there, another orgasm ripped through you, your body tightening around him as you cried out his name.

He collapsed onto you, both of you panting and trembling. His weight was comforting, his breath hot against your neck as he pressed soft kisses to your skin, his earlier roughness giving way to a tender aftermath.

You held him close, your hands running soothingly over his back, feeling the ridges of the muscles you had just marked with your nails. your own body still buzzing with the aftermath of your pleasure. When he finally lifted his head, his eyes met yours, a look of pure adoration in his gaze that rendered you speechless. He leaned down, capturing your lips in a tender, lingering kiss, his touch kind and reverent.

He cradled your face in his hands. "We’re gonna be okay," his breath felt warm against your lips. The sincerity in his voice made your chest tighten with emotion.

Tears welled up in your eyes as Rafe's lips touched yours again, the faint tender kiss a stark contrast to the man you used to know. You tried to hold back, to keep the overwhelming tide at bay, but the dam broke, and a sob escaped your lips.

He pulled back slightly, concern etched across his pretty features. "Hey," he murmured, his thumb brushing away the tears that spilled down your cheeks. "What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?"

You shook your head, "No, it’s not that," your voice trembled, “I’m scared.”

Rafe's expression softened, thumbs gently caressing your cheeks. "Shh, it's okay," he soothed his voice a comforting balm to your frayed nerves. "Let it out, baby. I’m right here."

You buried your face in his chest, your tears soaking into his skin. The warmth of his embrace, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, and the gentle strength of his hold were the only thing keeping you together at this point and if you didn’t feel so much, you’d feel pathetic for relying so much on someone else. He held you tightly, his hand stroking your hair as you cried, releasing the pent-up fear and anxiety.

"We—I, I don’t know what I’m doing," you admitted through your tears, your voice muffled against his chest. "I’m really, really scared.”

Rafe kissed the top of your head, his lips lingering in a gesture of reassurance. "I know, Maybank," he whispered, his voice steady and unwavering. "I’m scared too.”

You pulled back slightly, looking up at him through tear-filled eyes. "You are?" you asked, almost in disbelief.

He nodded, his attention never wavering from features.

"Yeah, I am. This...And—don’t know what I’m doing either. But I want it. I want you."

“But it’s wrong.”

“I know, pretty.”

He pulled out slowly, both of you hissing at the sensitivity. Rolling onto his side, he gathered you into his arms, holding you close. You nestled against his chest.

“I’m sorry for jumping out the window,” you murmured, your voice muffled against his skin, “You just...make me so angry.”

He chuckled softly, his fingers running through your hair in soothing strokes. "I shouldn’t have locked you in.”

You closed your eyes, feeling the last of your tears dry against his skin. The comfort of his embrace, his steady presence, was grounding you. You knew things wouldn’t be easy, but his reassurance gave you strength. After a while, Rafe shifted slightly, tilting your chin up to meet his gaze. 

"We’ll figure this out, Maybank.”

“Promise?”

He hesitated, his brow furrowing slightly. Promises weren’t something he was used to making, you knew that. But then he nodded.

“Promise.”

[epersonae]

13,10,20,26 for the more writing asks!

10. what is the longest amount of time you’ve let a draft rest before you finished it?

this one has a weirdly complicated answer, in that this fic had two long periods where it was untouched before posting, and technically it was never finished. But: from right here the view goes on forever was mostly written in the spring and summer of 2019, got sidelined by first falling in love and then the creativity crash of the pandemic, had one tiny bit added to it in I think July 2020, and I started posted it in October 2021.

This is one of the last pieces of the series that Ryn and I wrote together, what we informally called "the beach epilogue", that rounds out the longest piece of that series. It is the origin of my first tattoo, even though we never got to write the part of the fic wherein the tattoo itself appears, and when I posted it after Ryn died, I included one of our engagement photos where you can see it on both of us.

13. a fandom you’re thinking about writing for

I still kinda want the extremely fucked up Star Trek fic that lives in my head about Marla McGivers, aka Khan's wife who dies sometime between the original Space Seed episode in TOS and Wrath of Khan. I'm 50/50 on whether it ends up being canon-divergent, because it's from her POV, and that makes it a Bad Ending fic, which is not usually my jam.

I watched the episode and the movie in the spring of 2021 for the first time after getting divorce and BOY HOWDY do I have thoughts about how they wrote Khan and emotional manipulation. It was going to be an exploration of some trauma stuff that ironically got pushed aside by actual new trauma.

20. in what year did you publish your first fic?

2017! This month is seven years since I started writing and posting fic!

26. are you able to write with other people around?

Usually; prepandemic, and when I was commuting to an office, I was a coffeeshop writing girlie, but now it's not so much part of my routine. A few times I've written while hanging out with friends, and that's nice if potentially distracting.

[✍️ more fic writer asks]

[soulsxng]

I don't think I've mentioned this at all since moving to this blog a while back, but Jaspern was actually a serious alcoholic for a long time when JJ was younger. That's because, when JJ was only a few years old, Kalliah, JJ's mother and Jaspern's wife (and soulmate), passed away from sickness.

Jas was devastated by the loss, and honestly didn't really have much of a clue how to raise JJ on his own. Especially since JJ had a few periods in which he was a fairly difficult kid to work with (For Jas, anyway). For example, JJ was an extremely anxious and sensitive kid, and Jas has always been a little...out of touch with his emotions. He's always been a very straightforward person. So not knowing why JJ was feeling the way he was, and not really being able to relate (not for lack of experience I feel, but more lack of recognition at what JJ was feeling), or how to "fix" whatever was making JJ hurt or afraid or anxious was hard for him.

That, coupled with losing his wife, on top of a pile of other things made him drink more and more over the years. It peaked when JJ was around the equivalent of 17 or 18 years old, and it got so bad that for a long time, JJ felt as though he was the one taking care of Jas most of the time, instead of the other way around.

A year or so after that though, Jas got his first major wake-up call (because as much as I hate to say it, Jas was a very functional alcoholic in public. Very few people could even tell that he was struggling with it in the first place...and when he did start to feel like people were catching on, he didn't interact with people as much, so he could continue to hide it.) when JJ very abruptly moved out on his own. It did take a bit to set in though, as after JJ left, he fell into another slump because JJ cut pretty much all contact with him at that point.

I couldn't say exactly what finally made it set in, but after a couple more months, Jas went from an "I failed my son, I couldn't make myself be the father that he deserved, I'm the worst" spiral, to "I failed my son, and so now I have to make it up to him and get better for him, even if he can't forgive me after everything."

And a lot happened over the years he was getting clean. JJ ended up moving back in with him after Jas saved him from a really bad romantic relationship. There were times he fell off the wagon. Times that he and JJ's relationship got really strained again, and times that they were okay.

Current day, he hasn't had a single sip of alcohol in 6 or 7 years. (Though he still definitely gets a craving from time to time-- especially in times of high stress-- he actually does have a very supportive group around him to help him get past it. This past year or two, he's even been able to start going back to the bar to hang out with the drinking party, which was a pretty big victory in his book, because he wasn't able to be around alcohol at all for those first few years without fixating on it and immediately having to leave)

[twrambling]

I've been doing so much research on precolonial Venezuela I'm not even sure what happened afterwards F