#very form will distract from his weight

[linoguy]

twice’s stylists for jeongyeon drive me nuts but what’s new 🚬 I’ve made this post before but if they stopped trying to distract from or hide her weight they would realize that her weight actually doesn’t make her less attractive but More attractive and that by trying to hide it to begin with, they bring even more attention to it despite all their attempts, even though it’s not a bad thing to begin with

[izvmimi]

Katsuki handles you extremely gently for the most part, which is why when you find yourself at the tail end of play-wrestling in the midday on Saturday, wrists bound together in a firm, one-handed grasp and a leg locked against him at the hip, you’re a bit surprised. Your lips form into a soft ‘o’ as you let out a pant; conversely, his breathing is still, having not exerted very much effort, but you can practically feel his heart pound in his chest.

Or possibly it’s wishful thinking, given the way your own heart races.

Katsuki pauses for a moment, then dips in close, kissing your forehead.

“Had enough?” he asks.

“What if I said no?” you quip. In reply, his face buries in the crook of your neck and he snorts softly.

“Why don’t we make love, not war?” 

You’d admonish him on the cheesiness of the statement, but you don’t have the energy to. By now, Katsuki has relaxed his hold on your wrists and your leg, but you let your thighs and calves find new positioning wrapped around his waist as he lowers his weight onto you. He’s heavy, but it’s a familiar, comfortable heaviness that keeps you warm.

“Don’t like roughhousing with you,” he murmurs softly, still unmoving. Your bodies breathe in and out together, and you let yourself hold him even closer, hooking your left arm around his neck gently and running your right through his hair. 

Perhaps somewhere this is another form of a wrestling lock, but you’re decidedly loving, letting fingers trace between the blonde spikes to scratch his scalp.

Katsuki appreciates your softness just as much as your feistiness at times, and perhaps the former he needs a little more at this time.

You lay together for a moment, remembering when you sparred for real once years ago while at UA, and how quickly he folded.

Perhaps you cheated, you think as you conjure up the memory.

…

Paired together for sparring despite your friends’ apprehensive looks, you take up the challenge gladly. Light on your feet, the two of you move in concert towards and away from each other quickly as you trade blows - a narrow dodge of a punch with a sidestep. You grab his hand, and Katsuki’s surprise emboldens you as you plant your foot firmly on the ground and use your momentum to throw him over your shoulder.

Collective gasps abound from your watching classmates as Katsuki hits the ground, hard. You smile once he’s quick to jump back to his feet, wider still as he grumbles out loud.

“You’re so goddamn sneaky.”

He resumes a fighting stance. The ring is relatively small, a chalky circle about 8 bodies in diameter, but he still hasn’t fallen out of bounds. Red-faced, he’s lunged at you again (Izuku in the crowd comments that he must be more upset that he can’t use his quirk than the fight itself) and you sidestep him once more before tripping him. He loses his balance just for a moment, but jumps back into a back handstand then rights himself. 

He does look like he’s getting his ass kicked, but your friend heckles him first with the truth.

“He’s blinded by love, go easy on him!”

Aizawa shoots her a disapproving look, and your cheeks warm, but you don’t let yourself get distracted. You won’t know how right she is until later, anyway.

Time elapses - you block another heavy roundhouse kick that causes you to skid but you stay standing as you brace for impact, your heels digging into soft ground.

“I told you I won’t ever go easy on you,” Katsuki hisses. 

He follows this up with a leg sweep that has you tumble over him, and you somersault to regain control, but Katsuki has your leg by the ankle, pulling until you dangle for a moment, but you land a punch straight into his gut despite your upside down position.

Your friend screams again to ‘get his ass!’ amongst your classmates and gets another look from Aizawa. 

But Katsuki has let go with the force of the shock and you shoot backwards and prepare for an axe kick. He blocks, but for a split second he loses his resolve - the look on your face is fierce, and he remembers exactly why he has a crush on you.

The two of you jump back and separate to the opposite sides of the ring.

“If you don’t get serious, you’ll lose,” you tease.

“I’m going easy on you,” he finally claims, gruffly.

“You literally said otherwise 15 seconds ago.”

An ooooooo runs through the crowd that makes him scowl, and he takes off again with another lunge. You block, a move that makes Shoto shake his head at the bad choice, and you skid backwards from the sheer power behind the punch, making it almost closer to the borders of the ring. The subsequent onslaught is hard and you’re about to make it out of bounds.

Until you try a desperate move.

Leaning forward suddenly as if you were to kiss him, red blooms on his face, and he immediately backs off.

Izuku cups his face in his palms.

A leapfrog jump over him and a slight push, and he’s out of the ring, having fallen flat on his ass.

Denki, Sero and Kirishima don’t let him live it down for hours.

…

You definitely did cheat.

And perhaps in a way you are now, because he’s putty in your hands as he melts into you. 

But you’re no longer fighting, whether playful or not - teeth, tongue, lips don’t clash but rather dance and glide together; fingers and palms caress and worship each other in your joint embrace.

No power struggle between you two to be found anywhere - if anything perhaps in a way, you’ve always had the upper hand, being fully adored by him.

Regardless of how much stronger he is than you, whether it is in physical ability or will or resolve, he’d still very easily and consistently succumb to your love.

[sp00kymulderr]

awake

Joel Miller x f!reader

Warnings/Tags/Notes: 18+. No outbreak au, but it doesn't really matter. Just know this is older Joel :). teeniest bit of somno. Nuzzling the dick. Kissing the dick. Loving the dick. Living for the dick. Love. Unedited, unbeta'd. I dunno.

Words: 1.6k

Summary: He's the perfect package.

The alarm clock blares at 7 on the dot, waking you from a peaceful slumber with a grumble.

"Joel" you mumble, groggy with sleep. You give him a gentle shove but he doesn't answer with anything more than a grunt.

He was never a morning person.

Eyes barely open, you turn on your side and lean over him to smack the alarm with memorized aim, snoozing it and half smothering Joel with your body in the process.

"5 more minutes" you hear him groan somewhere beneath you before you move and settle back against your pillow. Joel moves at the same time, on his side and pulling you back against his chest to snuggle into your warmth, his favourite way to sleep. His steady breath fans against the back of your neck, large hand holding you against him and with the comfort of his proximity you close your eyes and will your delightful dreams to return to you.

But as much as you try to keep your eyes closed and let sleep lull you, you can't help be distracted. Rather then delightful dreams, what does make an appearance is Joels morning wood - half hard right now against your ass, as his sleeping form keeps you pressed close as possible to his front.

Really how can you possibly fall back asleep?

"You awake?" you mumble, squeezing his hand that rests flat-palmed against your stomach.

"Nuh uh" Joel answers, making you roll your eyes. He's on the periphery of consciousness, that dozy, hazy stage just before fully awake. You can tell because of how his breath remains heavy and steady, chest rising and falling and he's not fully responding when you press your ass back against him.

"Joooel" You whine, whole body suddenly very awake. Just the feel of him, hardening for you, has your stomach doing flips and your core tightening with that familiar heat.

There's not much better in this world than Joel Millers cock, after all.

You've told him so many times, told him how much you love it - the seemingly perfect size of him, girthy but not difficult to take, a pleasurable stretch every time he fucks you, a comforting weight in your hand or on your tongue every time you get him off. God, you love your boyfriends cock almost as much as you love the man himself.

All part of the perfect package.

You're worked up enough by the time the alarm goes off again that when Joel starts to wake properly, aware he has a workday ahead, he finds you not in his arms anymore but further down the bed, your head resting against his leg as your fingers barely trace the bulge of his cock in his boxers.

"Baby…" Joel murmurs, voice deep and gruff with sleep, blinking his eyes open to look down at you properly, dozy smile on his lips "What're you doin'?"

"Your stupid alarm woke me up" you sigh, one hand rubbing his thick thigh whilst the other makes a more intentional move to cup his dick and give it the gentlest, loving squeeze good morning, "Then you made me think about how good your cock is and I couldn't go back to sleep. And you weren't even awake to fuck me" You complain, looking up at him like he owes you an apology. "It's not fair"

Joel just shakes his head, chuckles at your pouty expression and tries to focus on that rather than on your proximity to his rapidly straining cock. The way you touch him isn't even intended to get him harder, just touching for the sake of it. Because you love it.

Glancing over at the clock, Joel sighs and gives the top of your head an affection, apologetic pat before making to move, Tommy will be here soon and he doesn't want to take shit from his younger brother for being late. Before Sarah went off to college she would make sure he was up on time, but with her gone and you rarely being a good influence he really had to keep himself responsible these days.

"I'll make it up to you later, pretty girl. M'sorry"

“Don’t go” You pout up at him, cheek comfortably resting on his meaty thigh as you bat your lashes and try your best to tempt.

“I gotta, you know that” Joel grumbles, he's not about to leave Tommy on the job alone, never been one to call out of work for any reason. He'll just have to ignore that warm feeling pooling inside as he stares down at you, watching as you lift your head and rest it closer to the sweet little wet patch forming in his boxers.

“Get back up here, c’mon” He tries to command but, well, you were never one for following orders and he knows that well enough. His insistence is starting to wane already anyway, feeling your breath all warm so close to him.

"I like it here. Feels nice. I think you like it too" you whisper, happy little thing as you press a kiss to the heft of him through his boxers. You hum a sigh of contentment, thinking about how he'd fucked you senseless last night, how you wanted that again right now. Could never, ever get enough, and he wasn't any better.

"Baby you're killing me here. Gonna be late..." he groans, sighing when you look up at him all sweet innocence, though he's very aware you're anything but.

"Just let me say bye to him" you plead softly, eyes wide, and knowing he's not really going to make you stop yet. Especially not when you nuzzle your face against his crotch and breathe in deeply, murmuring something muffled as you press more kisses across the taut fabric.

"Fuuuck" Joel groans out, making you laugh softly. Your fingers are tugging at the waistband of his underwear now.

"Can I? Just want to see…just for a minute" You ask, cheek smushed up against him and eyes flashing with desirous mischief.

"Greedy little thing" He responds, but there's a clear and definitive nod of 'yes' when he looks to the clock once more and does some mental work to figure out how late he can be out of bed without being late to the work site.

“Can't help it. He’s so pretty” You give a happy little sigh as you start to tug his boxers down.

“It ain’t…pretty” Joel replies with a scoff, rolling his eyes but the reddened hue of his cheeks betrays him.

“He’s so fucking pretty”

Joel acquiesce easily to your protest, that bashful lopsided smile making an appearance along with his blush. it had taken him some time to get used to your way of things but he couldn't pretend he didn't find your intense interest and stubbornness kind of hot. He tips his head back as his morning wood is exposed to the cool air of the room, boxers tugged down just enough to make his perfect cock and heavy balls available for your admiration.

"Wanna put my mouth on you. Wanna spend all day down here with you" You whisper straight to his dick, wide eyed and reverent - as if you're in awe of it despite seeing it so many times before.

"Darlin', I really gotta-" Joel starts, but his words are cut short by your mouth, pressing sweet little kisses to the crown, across the head. He groans as you grip the base, and make you're way down the underside of him, paying loving attention to every little bump and ridge. He's leaking a little, and you can't help but steal a taste.

If only you had more time.

"Better be ready for some real attention later" You mumble against his impressive balls, giving each a kiss of their own but your eyes meet Joels this time, "Gonna let me have as much as I want later, right?"

"Damn it you're such a pain in my side, pretty girl…gettin' me all worked up" Joel practically whines at the promise of later, mouth slightly agape, eyes hodded with desire as his cock twitches eagerly in your hand "Wanna fuck you…you're gonna have me hard all damn day"

"You can fuck me now, if you really need to" you giggle at his frustrations, teasingly licking the pre-cum from him "Tommy can wait, he already thinks we're sex addicts because of that time with the-"

"Yeah...yeah dont remind me about that right now baby. Not right now" He shushes you with a pointed look, then lets out a deep sigh as he relucantly turns to the clock "Not gonna fuck you...I only got 5 minutes and I think I'd be doin' you a disservice" He groans, exasperation building.

"You're such a big old softy, thinking about my needs all the time" You smile up at him, heart swelling with love for the man as give him a pinch to the thigh eased with a kiss before returning back to his cock, throbbing in your hand

"I'll see you tonight" You murmur lovingly, kissing the tip on more time before reluctantly making your way back up Joels body, pressing tender kisses to his stomach, his chest, his neck, and finally his lips.

"You drive me fuckin' insane, I swear to god" He breathes out against your lips, hand coming down hard on your ass and squeezing a cheek as your kiss turns more intense.

"And you love it" You giggle breathlessly once your lips part.

"I love it. Love you, you maniac"

He sits up with you, another series of quick kisses before he turns to leave the bed and you can't help but pout again. You wish he didn't work so hard, dedicate himself to so much. But then he wouldn't be your Joel, your man

"Joel…don't work too late"

"Wouldn't dream of it. Just make sure you're ready for me…" He gives your ass another slap that makes you yelp before he's heading off into the bathroom.

"You're gonna come all over him as many times as I tell you to tonight, baby"

[ellecdc]

Sirius' Admirer

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader at a party with Sirius' determined admirer

CW: fluff, shy!reader but it's only discussed, possessive Remus, brief mention of alcohol/being tipsy but no description

original request/prompt = @unstablereader

The party was winding down as the small group that was left in Gryffindor tower pulled the various sofas and chairs closer to the low coffee table for another party game. 

Not you, though.

Remus was very happy to have you curled up in his lap, pretty well asleep, as he watched Sirius smirk and laugh with the remaining party goers. 

It was no secret that you were a touch more shy than Sirius or Remus were. 

Okay, you were terribly more shy than Sirius and Remus were, but Remus was more than happy to sit on the sidelines with his and Sirius’ little wallflower.

And it was no secret you put in a solid effort to be more social for your more extroverted boyfriends'; showing up to this party was evidence of that, both of them knowing that the old you would have never agreed to such a thing.

He was certain that had you been a little less tipsy and a little more awake, you would rather die than be seen falling asleep in one of your boyfriend’s lap. 

That made Remus love his current situation all the more.

You shifted slightly at a boisterous laugh from the group and Remus used his hand that was supporting you to rub your back soothingly. He couldn’t help the proud smirk that took over his face when you nuzzled a little further into his chest at the action. 

Remus could suddenly smell trouble in the form of one Gryffindor girl a year below the three of you - who seemed to have quite the crush on Sirius - as she approached the group. 

Now it’s important to note that it’s not that he blamed the girl for her crush, per se, but he certainly didn’t like it.

And Moony liked it even less. 

Remus watched as the girl approached Sirius, and Sirius - not quite able to rid himself of the Pureblood gentleman he was raised beaten to be - began to stand in order to offer her his chair.

“Oh that’s okay! We can both fit!” The girl offered boldly, grabbing Sirius’ arm before he was at his full height and pulling him back down into the (albeit rather large) one seater chair. 

Though Remus could see Sirius was slightly taken aback by the boldness of the younger Gryffindor, he quickly schooled his face and offered a polite shrug before turning his gaze to the rest of the room. 

Before the game began, Sirius’ eyes flit upwards towards the chair he knew the two of you were occupying where he took in your tangled forms.

A soft, loving smile took over his face as he watched your chest rise and fall peacefully before his eyes met Remus’, who he offered a wink before returning to the game at hand.

Now Remus tried to focus on the feel of your steady breathing, your weight on his chest, the warmth of your body, and the contentment he had felt all night with you and Sirius.

But Moony was far more concerned with that little witch who was sitting far too close to his Padfoot. 

Remus tried to mentally grab The Wolf by the scruff of the neck, begging him to relax for now.

And it almost worked.

Except the little witch had thrown her head back in laughter and slapped Sirius' thigh playfully. 

Remus could feel a possessive discontentment rumble through his chest, and unfortunately for him, so did you.

“I’m sorry, dovey. It’s okay, go back to sleep.” He murmured, pressing a conciliatory kiss to your hairline as you stirred in his lap. 

You tightened your hold on Remus in a way that you never do in public, and he was immediately back to feeling quite smug about his current situation.

Though, unfortunately, the smugness didn’t last long. 

Sirius was having a playful row with James over whether or not James had cheated during his turn, paying no mind to the younger girl who was scooching ever closer to him in his distraction, to the point that Remus felt she was nearly sitting right on his lap.

Mine. Moony growled petulantly in his mind. 

Remus thought, hoped, and prayed that he was strong enough to ignore it, but it seemed that either Moony was particularly possessive tonight or this witch was particularly bothersome. 

Sirius was leaning forward in the seat with his elbows on his knees conversing with Peter as the witch leaned forward and rested her head on his shoulder. 

Remus wasn’t exactly sure what his plan was in attempting to stand up, but that plan (or lack thereof) was quickly thwarted when you whimpered at the disruption. 

“Moons?” You whined as you started to tense; eyes scrunching in preparation to open and see what Remus’ fuss was about.

“Sorry. I'm sorry babylove.” He cooed as he settled back into his chair and kissed the space between your brows.

Damn his difficult hot and oblivious boyfriend and his sweet little sleepy girl - causing him nothing but grief. 

How in the sodding hell did Sirius not notice what was going on right now!? He had to feel the weight of her stupid sodding head on his shoulder?

But apparently whatever discourse he was currently participating in with Peter was more interesting than his admirer. 

Remus tried to remind himself that the fact that Sirius wasn’t noticing and not interested in the witch was really rather a good thing as he continued to keep an eye on his boyfriend and his boyfriend’s devotee.

Apparently though, Remus had a threshold.

And that threshold came in the form of the witch slowly wrapping both her arms around Sirius’ arm that she was already leaning against.

Sirius barely had time to furrow his brows and turn to look at the girl incredulously before Remus had shot a tame stinging hex at him. 

“Ouch! What the fuck?” Sirius hissed as he shook the hand Remus had stung - not coincidentally the hand that the witch was moments away from trying to hold - forcing the girl to straighten up from where she’d been attempting to cosy up to him. 

“Oi Prongs, are Rem and my girl still around?” Sirius called loudly regardless of the fact that Remus knew that Sirius knew exactly where they were. 

“Never very far, Pads.” James smirked as he used his head to gesture towards your and Remus’ forms. 

Sirius looked over with a salacious grin on his face before quickly standing and abandoning the witch in her chair built for one as he made for the two of you.

“Awe our poor girl, Rem.” Sirius cooed as he leaned over you to press a kiss to Remus’ lips. “You should have called me over earlier so we could bring her to bed.”

“You seemed a little preoccupied.” Remus answered pointedly, though his chiding was minimised by the teasing smile on his face. 

“Fuckin’ weird.” Sirius breathed out before crouching down to be level with you.

“Hey pretty girl.” Sirius murmured as he pushed some of your hair away from your face. “You ready for bed?”

You let out a pitiful sound as you tried to nuzzle further into Remus’ chest, only for both boys to chuckle at you. 

“Come on, sleepy-head.” He continued, pulling you from Remus’ lap by your hands and into his chest. Remus watched Sirius support basically the entirety of your weight where you were leaning against him as he guided you towards the stairs of the boys’ dormitory. 

“Goodnight everyone!” He called to the group, causing you to timidly burrow further into his side to hide from what Remus was sure was the horrifying ordeal of being seen. 

Remus watched as everyone wished the three of you a good night, save the usurping witch who was pouting in her rather empty looking chair. 

Remus couldn’t really blame her for trying, he supposed, but if anyone was going to spend the night cuddling you and Sirius, it was going to be him.

[rafeskai]

Life as We Know It — Rafe Cameron

Chapter Two

Two opposites must navigate love, loss, and unexpected parenthood to discover the meaning of family.

Summary: When tragedy strikes, two very different individuals find their lives unexpectedly intertwined as they become the guardians of an orphaned child. As they navigate the challenges of co-parenting, balancing careers, and confronting their pasts, they discover that family can form in the most surprising ways. Through heartfelt moments and unexpected humor, they explore what it means to build a life together—one step at a time.

Pairings: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Character deaths & angst.

Author's Notes: Inspired by the movie "Life as We Know It"!

Masterlist: Here

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

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

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

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nodded, the weight of his words sinking in. 

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ 

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

You couldn’t do it anymore.

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

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

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

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

And so, you made your decision.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rafe raised an eyebrow. “No promises there.”

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

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

With a deep breath, you took the first step.

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

© 2024 rafeskai | All rights reserved. This fanfiction is a work of fiction inspired by characters from Outer Banks, and no part of it may be reproduced or distributed without permission.

[capitanology]

hsr men and their love !

— or how they show their love towards you + the little moments you have with them | including. . .aventurine, dr ratio, jing yuan, dan heng

content warning: nothing, all fluff!

word count: 1.9k

AVENTURINE WHO. . .

yes, will shower you with lavish gifts and makes sure that only the finest of silks adorns your body because you deserve only the best of everything. it makes his heart swell with fondness each time his eyes catches sight of you covered in his love, that being the items he procured without much effort yet still remained thoughtful all the same.

but aventurine also loves the downtime that comes after the end of a mission, when he stumbles through the doorway of both yours and his home in the middle of the night, searching for your familiar presence. and when he opens the bedroom door, his gaze falling on you in the middle of it all, he welcomes the sight of you sleeping in between the sheets of his blanket, figure curling around his soft pillow you claimed will help you sleep well when he's not around.

the smallest of smiles graced his lips and for the first time since his mission started, his body was able to relax, his shoulders sagging down with the weight of his tiredness as the tension leaves. walking over to you, he gently positions himself on the side of the bed, eyes never once straying away from your form. his hand reaches out to lightly cup your cheek before he presses a light kiss to your forehead.

"mm...aven?"

the feather touch made you stir from your sleep, despite aventurine trying his best to not wake you up. a quiet chuckle left his lips at your (very adorable, might he add) display, not able to hold back from giving you another kiss to your cheek.

"yes, my love. i'm back. shall we rest together now?"

DR. RATIO WHO. . .

tends to express his love for you in a rather roundabout manner. somehow, his upfront attitude that most are familiar with disappears when it comes to any little thing that concerns you.

it was glaringly obvious, you think, with the way he lends his assistance whenever you struggle with your work under the guise of it being 'unpleasant to see a capable scholar floundering about, no less his own partner'. it might sound a bit harsh to others, but you knew of his affection, with the way his features would always soften whenever he spoke those words to you. besides, him offering to aid you is already enough of an indication of his endearment.

though sometimes, there are moments where he would instead let his actions speak for him his thoughts.

the grandfather clock's ticking resounded within ratio's office, the two of you bathing in each other's company as you worked on your own set of papers while he busies himself with another thesis of his. this isn't a rare sight; rather, it was a routine that you kept up with him, often ending the day by each other's side while trying to finish the remaining tasks.

it was during these times that ratio lets his gaze travel to you, who usually remained absorbed in your work. it was no different this time, his eyes catching sight of you being deeply concentrated in solving the particular problem you were stuck on.

ratio rarely gets distracted from his tasks, but as you sit there across from him, he could only let his mind run rampant with thoughts of you and only you. of how endearing it is to see you frown in frustration, lips raw from how many times you bit it as you struggle to solve the damn problem.

observing how the stack of papers on your side of the desk still remained tall, ratio sets aside his finished papers before silently taking half of your paper stack, which didn't go unnoticed by you.

"what are you doing?" you rose a brow, seeing how he had already started to scribble along the surface of your papers.

"what do you think i'm doing?" he replied without missing a beat, glancing at you from the corner of his eye.

the sight of your confused expression nearly made him chuckle but he held it back, not wanting to let his thoughts show.

"well..." you drawled out, a small smile building itself on your lips when you catch on what he's doing. "i think you're helping me. isn't that right, dr ratio?"

the use of his formal title made him huff slightly, preferring you to call him only by his name. yet as his eyes flitted over to you, seeing your fond gaze as you leaned back against the chair, ratio could only return your teasing words with his own.

"seeing as to how you're struggling to complete your tasks, it seems that you need a helping hand lest you remain here all night long," he refuted, lips quirking up. "though i would not mind doing so with you."

JING YUAN WHO. . .

lives for the idle touches and fleeting gazes whenever you pass him by during work hours. known for his lackadaisical nature when it comes to his duties as a general, there was also another part of him that is often talked about; that is his utter admiration for you. hence the moment those conversing with him for official duties notice you walk into the room, they have already prepared themselves for what is to come next.

"yes, general. from the patrol guards' inspection, it was deduced that..."

the guard's voice trailed off in the middle of his daily report to jing yuan when he noticed you entering the general's personal office, gathering both his and jing yuan's attention. almost instantly, he can see jing yuan's slumped figure straighten, eyes brighter than a moment ago when he was listening to him recalling the day's events. knowing there is nothing that can pull away the general's focus once it settled on you, the guard gave him his goodbyes and left promptly at jing yuan's dismissive nod.

you rose a brow at the exchange, not able to even voice out your questions about it when his hand wrapped around your wrist and pulled you close to his side of the table. lifting your palm close to his face, jing yuan begins to pepper light kisses all over the skin, reveling in your warmth.

"what's this about? so clingy," you teased, though such clinginess was not out of the ordinary.

you knew that if he could, he would stick by your side throughout the entire day.

"is it wrong for me to shower my lovely partner with affection?" his lips quirked up at the sound of your voice, head tilting back to look at your face.

"of course not," you returned his grin with one of your own, now tugging on his hand instead. "well, i was wondering if my lovely partner would want to relax with me in the garden today? it's nearing lunch time anyways."

"anything you desire, my dear."

as much as he loves to spend his free time (or official hours) laying around under the tree's shade, letting the sun shine down on his face, nothing beats the comfort that embraces his entire being when his head is on your lap and he's basking in your warmth instead.

DAN HENG WHO. . .

adores you silently, quietly, with small actions and soft touches; making your coffee in the mornings just the way you like it, covering you with his comfort blanket each time you fall asleep when digging through the archives with him, offering his aid when you're swamped with too many work on the astral express.

for those without a keen eye, perhaps he may come off as a passionless lover, but when you look closely, you notice the way his eyes light up the moment he catches you across the room, and the delicate hold he has on your hand as you walk through the crowded streets. and with every little thing that he does with love behind them, you can only take them with an open heart and a fond smile, knowing that they were only for you to understand and know.

but there are times when his love for you grabs him by the chokehold, and all he could do was profess his affection for you in the most random of manner.

it was silent aboard the astral express, march and the rest of the members currently sleeping in their own rooms. you however, was not in your own room.

curled up beside dan heng, in your hands was a thick book filled with various kinds of information relevant to your upcoming mission to a new planet. the pages were the thickest you had ever seen, and you were barely halfway through the content when your eyes started to droop heavily with sleep.

"you should go ahead and rest," dan heng's voice woke you up from the nth time you had dozed off, and immediately you shook your head, trying to will away the tiredness.

"nooo, i still have a lot to go through," your words almost sounded like a whine with how you drawled them out, hands rubbing your eyes.

"there's still enough time for you to finish it. your mission is in the next few days right?"

"yeah, but i doubt that i can finish this much in a short amount of time," you pushed the book into his sight, and he could only chuckle at your actions.

"it's fine. you'll finish it," dan heng sighed softly, flicking your forehead gently. "so stop being stubborn and just sleep. i can already see the dark circles forming under your pretty eyes."

ignoring how his sudden compliment made your cheeks burn, you took his advice and closed the book, setting it to the corner before snuggling into dan heng's side, sighing at the warmth.

it was funny how light his heart felt at the sight, the endearment almost consuming him whole. if this is what it feels like to love another, to the point that he was able to suffocate within it, then dan heng thought that perhaps he would willingly die loving you. the idea of it was overwhelming and taken in by the way your figure wrapped around him so comfortably, his lips moved on their own.

"i love you."

the atmosphere stills with his sudden confession, the words hanging in the air. your head had whipped up to look at him, confusion swirling in your eyes before quiet giggles left you when you notice the perplexed expression on his face.

"why do you look so confused?" your voice shook with amusement, loving the way his gaze avert yours, cheeks flushing a deep red. "you've said it many times before, didn't you?"

"of course," dan heng coughed, trying to will away the slight embarassment he feels at suddenly proclaiming his love.

it wasn't that he hate it, that is the act of speaking such words to you. it was the thought of being vulnerable, an unfamiliar action for him who has had to steel his heart and harden his resolve with the life he had lived so far. to speak of his love as easily as he did loving you, it was difficult; which is why he would rather shower you in it, with all the things that he does.

but then he looks at you now, eyes glinting in the light with lips curled up into that pretty smile he loves seeing from just his words and he thinks that perhaps it isn't so hard for him to profess his love to you every now and again as he did moments ago.

"...you still haven't say it back."

"yes, yes. i love you too."

a/n: i think i got carried away with ratio and dan heng...also! might make a part two of this with other characters

[bunnygirllover45]

— VIVISECTION IS ANOTHER WAY OF SPELLING LOVE. ﹑◌﹒WARNINGS﹕Graphical descriptions of the body, Seth wants to study you like you're a computer or something, MC has few to no dialogue, gender neutral MC. Very bizarre at certain points. Medical bullshit and philosophical stuff. Bad English.

♱ ✧ ⤷ Word count: 1,6k words. (This one is a long mf)

The nights always brought the same dream with them; four walls and a room that belonged to an old movie, the walls were decorated with shelves filled with pots, pots with colorful flowers on them, some of them were carelessly placed on top of each other, pressing on top of the poor flower that was under the crushing weight of the other.

This room only had two big windows that illuminated the whole room, illuminating it in a red hue, no matter how much you tried to stare out the window nothing but red was visible. It seemed like if you stared too much into that void for a second, it would swallow you whole, making you part of the bloody landscape.

The furniture was scarce. A table, something that resembled a bookshelf that contained a few books, but the letters were illegible to you since you couldn’t move from your assigned seat; a chair by the aforementioned table. In the center of the table, was a small vase filled with fresh poppies.

The ambiance was a little theatrical, to be honest, you couldn’t even imagine someone living in a place like this, it didn’t look like a place where you could have plants either, most of them were placed against a wall all the way in the back of the room, shrouded by darkness. Not even the crimson light from the window could reach them.

“The light of this place isn’t good for them, I have checked it countless times. Instead of giving them life, it kills them.” You heard the voice of your companion seated in front of you, and when you turned your face to look at him you found the crimson again, but it wasn’t from the window this time, it was from his eyes.

Red. Red. It looked like it wanted to swallow you whole. Those spirals were like the circles of hell, one by one looking at your movements with caution. You tried to answer his words, maybe with a question, maybe with an affirmation, but it was always complicated talking when you entered this ‘dream’ and Seth knew it.

“You know.” he started. 

Standing up from his seat and dragging his fingers across the wood of the table he began to circle it, never breaking eye contact for a second. “I have been reading some very interesting books lately.” he continued, his voice dragging across the whole place with an ominous echo to it, which was impossible due to the small size of the place. “They're medicine books, vivisections, that’s what they call it.” a small smile formed on his lips.

“Vivisections?” you managed to ask, your voice merely a whisper. Seth sharpened his gaze, pleased with the sweet sound of your voice, and then he nodded. 

“Yes, vivisection. It’s like… taking an organism that’s still alive and opening it, to learn how they function on the inside.” 

Seth continued, his leather gloves dragging across the table from side to side while he continued to circle the table, like a vulture, though it looked like a mere distraction, a small gesture he did while talking. It didn’t stop it from being spine-chilling though, the elegance in his movements wasn’t natural. “It seemed interesting to me, sounds nasty, it probably is.” he laughed.

One blink was enough to make him disappear from your sight, but when you felt two hands resting on top of your shoulders you knew he was still there. “Seth?” you called out his name, and he responded with a gentle squeeze against your frame, then you felt his hot breathing against your ear, it made you shiver.

“I’m here,” he reassured, you couldn’t see his expression but you were pretty sure he was still smiling, it was rare to see him without that grin on his face. “Can you close your eyes for a second?”

His petition made you nervous, the fact you couldn’t even turn to look at him worsened the uneasy feeling, your survival instinct screaming for you to not close your eyes, to not give in. But Seth was always good with you every time you came here, so why not? “Please.” Seth whispered against your ear when he noticed you still didn’t close your eyes, the sound of his voice so close it made you tremble.

Going against all common sense you closed your eyes. Feeling Seth’s hands pulling away from your shoulders you almost opened them again unconsciously, but for some reason, it was like they were closed shut by an invisible force, heavy like lead.

“How obedient. How precious. This is one of the many reasons why I like you.” 

First, you felt his gloved hands on your face, the sensation now multiplied thanks to one of your senses being removed, the leather felt softer, the sounds louder, and Seth’s breathing hotter. “The brain is like the body’s computer, an insistent and adaptive little thing, it’s truly fascinating.” 

“I think your mind is the thing I like the most about you. From the small unconscious movements you make while you’re asleep to the most trivial conversations are born in this beautiful place. It never stops to amaze me.” 

Now his voice came from the right, his fingers slipping from your face to your back, your breathing quickening as soon as you felt his hands slipping under your clothes, Seth traced invisible circles on the now exposed skin. “From here I can feel your breathing, you moved a little, do my gloves feel cold?” 

Seth removed his hands and the next second you could feel the touch of his fingertips on top of your skin, it seemed like he had taken off his gloves. “Better~?”

His voice sounded a little playful. “Skin-to-skin contact is even more pleasurable, no? I imagine having your eyes closed makes the experience even more intense.” 

“I can hear your breathing more clearly. Your lungs are closer to my hands.” And you could feel his breathing, even hearing how we swallowed heavily, like trying to hold back any unwanted sounds from escaping. “What a celestial sound.”

“If I put my mouth on top of you right now I could kiss you until you ran out of air. Then you wouldn’t have any other option than breathing the air I give you, that way each particle of oxygen that enters your system would have my name written on it.”

You tried to move, expecting your legs to crash against the table in front of you, but again. you couldn’t move, but you could feel like… everything around you disappeared for a second.

“You like that? You want that?” And when you heard Seth’s voice coming from in front of you it was unmistakable, everything felt like a small space where only you and Seth existed. “Ask me. Ask me and I’ll give it to you, I’ll give you everything.” 

Then everything fell silent, eerily silent. Then his hands felt like they were back again in all the places he previously touched at the same time, your face, your back, your shoulders, his touch was hot, enveloping you like he wanted to swallow you, like the red color outside the window, like the red in his eyes.

“Here.” His fingers moved like snakes against the skin in your chest, you took a deep breath unconsciously, and Seth laughed. “Here’s your heart.” 

“Sometimes I want to push my fingers under your skin, I don’t want to hurt you, of course I don’t, but I would love to see how beautiful you’re from the inside.”

“Like a computer with all its parts exposed, I would like to grab them and build you again like a puzzle, no — like a beautiful statue.” 

Now his fingers moved up and down across your skin, just like the way he had touched the table before, it seemed like he had anticipated this moment from much before, what a macabre little thing his brain was. “Mhm…” you felt Seth’s soft hair against your chest, he was drinking the sound of your heart beating like he was in the middle of the desert and you were the most beautiful oasis. “This sound is even more beautiful.” 

“It’s beating fast, the little thing, how adorable. Is it fear? Is it love? What kind of feeling is accelerating your beautiful core? Is it me? It must be me, there’s no one else here.” 

“Hey, do you love me?” You couldn’t answer, Seth knew that. “I love you too, I love you too much.” 

“I want to grab you in between my arms and squeeze you so hard you’d break, I’ll kiss each piece while I put you back together. I would call you my most beautiful creation, there’s nothing more charming than being God’s favorite creation, no?” 

Now his voice didn’t come from the left nor the right, it felt like you were being enveloped by him, all your senses, your body, Seth wanted to kill you with soft caresses and sweet whispers of eternal devotion. He wanted to swallow you. He wanted to vivisection you.

“When you wake up from this, please remember my touch, remember these sensations, remember our vivisection. You’ll give me that, right?” 

“When you come back I’ll be waiting, I promise I’ll hug you so sweetly you’ll never want to wake up again. I’ll give you a paradise so sweet you’ll want to poison yourself in it.” 

Finally, you opened your eyes, but you weren’t in that eerie room, nor was Seth there anymore. You stared at the sheets of your bed, everything looked too white, it made your eyes hurt. Taking a deep breath you held your hand against your chest.

You could still feel him there. His touch was still present, tingling against your skin.

And when your eyes fell to the skin of your chest you could see it better, the red marks, like the light coming from the light from that room, like the color of the blood flowing through your veins.

The marks of Seth’s fingers were still there, in your skin.

[unlosts]

Honey, you're familiar

Summary: Hotch takes the day off, you plan to take full advantage of it.

A/N: MDNI!

A calloused hand softly caressing your cheek is what wakes you up instead of your alarm, or more accurately Aarons alarm. 

The solid weight of him pressed against your back, his other arm caging you against him. 

“What are you doing here?” You mumble, sleep still coating your voice while you tilt your head backwards to leave your neck bared to him, and thread your fingers through his sleep mussed hair. Very pleased at the small groan you manage to pull from him. 

“I have the day off, remember?” He says against the skin of your neck, leaving a trail of kisses from right behind your ear to the base of your neck, the feel of it sending shivers down your spine, entirely too early to feel like this. 

“I did remember -” a yawn cuts you off “I just didn’t really believe you when you told me”   

He pinches you softly in retaliation making you squeal and try to detangle yourself from sleep, an arduous task given that you’ve entangled yourselves to fully  usually go to bed on different sides of the bed only to wake up in the middle as an incomprehensible mess of limbs. 

“Okay, okay I'm sorry, now get back here”Aaron uses the momentary distraction to draw you back into his arms, moving on top of you and caging you between his thick forearms. 

“Good to know all that FBI training isn’t going to waste” 

“What, you think I do this with suspects?” He asks with an arched brow

“Well, I should hope not” You say between laughs with the kind of carefree full teeth smile that drives him crazy. 

Here cradled by the morning sun, he remembers the morning he met you, and how that feeling he thought had long died in that old house, began to appear again.  

“What?” You ask a little breathless, your calf rises to slightly nudge his hip and his hand leaves your forearm to grip your thigh. 

Suddenly the morning sun feels scorching on your skin, your breath deepens as he lowers himself down to kiss you,  the solid weight of him on top of you a heady feeling. 

Aaron’s lips are all consuming, in a morning like this one he’s trying to make up for every late night and missed date even when you’ve told him that he doesn’t have to. His hand angles your jaw to deepen the kiss and yours go up to pull at his hair, causing a groan that makes your cunt clench. 

When you first slept together you discovered the sort of sounds you could pull from him so unlike the quiet and stoic man you had come to know, that you became devoted to learning him. Focused as a scholar, learning exactly where to press, pull or kiss to elicit the sort of sounds that would drive you crazy. 

His hand slides from your thigh, fingertips slowly trailing up leaving only goosebumps in their wake, up to your stomach. 

You separate only for a second as he leaves a trail of wet kisses up to your neck to suck a bruise there, making you hiss and pull at the hair in the nape of his neck once more. 

“You better not have left a fucking hickey Hotchner” you say between heaving breaths, but his only reply is a teasing grin against your neck. 

Aarons fingers play with the band of your sleep shorts while he goes back to kiss you unhurried even in the face of your growing desperation; his fingers run tauntingly back and forth, occasionally slipping a finger in to tug at the band of your underwear only to pull back out. 

They finally slip in to press against the patch of wetness forming in your underwear. You suck in a sharp breath when he touches your clit through your panties, rubbing more intently as you pull away from him to let out a weak moan.

“Aar” you gasp, breaking the kiss for a second, leaving his lips to chase after yours, kissing the corner of your mouth softly while you grind against his fingers. 

“I know” He says, his gravelly voice reverberating through your body “just relax honey, let me take care of you” 

He leans closer to you, braced on his forearm. Like this almost nose to nose he just watches you pant for a moment. Taking in this one sliver of time where his entire world is narrowed down to this bed. While holding your gaze he moves aside your underwear and finally runs his pointer finger against your cunt, collecting your wetness before going back to rub your clit. 

He swallows your moan with a hungry kiss, his calm facade abandoned when two of his fingers enter your cunt and feel your walls clench around them, the thickness of them still makes you dizzy even after so many times together. 

“Fuck” you moan, your foreheads pressed together when his fingers expertly twist to press against a spot that makes you feel like you’re on fire, his thumb going back to rubbing circles against your clit. 

“Yeah?” He asks, your hips bucking against his fingers, seeking even more closeness. 

your hands going to squeeze your breasts over your (his) sleep shirt.

He stares at your hands and you know exactly what he wants then, there’s no time to pull away and take off your shirt so you pull it up to expose your breasts to the cool morning air, Aarons lips immediately going to one, sucking softly while you arch into his mouth.

Whatever there was before in your veins replaced with something molten hot, every single part of you feels like it’s on fire. 

“Yeah”  You nod, unable to think of everything else, brain pleasantly emptied of any coherent thoughts. Your hands leave your shirt to caress his back, the nape of his neck, everything you can reach, you just want him as close as possible. 

He alternates between both breasts, sucking one pebbled nipple into his mouth only to let go and switch to the other, not before nipping at the side of your breast. 

After that your orgasm comes quick and loud, you don’t see it coming really, you only feel Aaron rub your clit sharply one last time before you feel it crest through you, leaving you to crash against the sheets.  

“Aaron”   You moan loudly, uncaring of the neighbors. 

“That’s it” He murmurs, his fingers have stopped moving but his thumb still rubs your clit until you can’t take it anymore.   

Despite his fingers still being inside you, you want him near so you pull him to you, the ensuing kiss sloppy and uncoordinated. 

“I’m going to need you to take time off more often” You say, smiling against his lips. 

[rafeandonlyrafe]

yoga

words: 1.2k

warnings: sexual assault!! (not from rafe), established relationship, brief violence but its nothing more serious than a shove, rafe is a bit grumpy at first but hes a softie for his girl

“can't believe you're dragging me to this dumb shit.” rafe grumbles, both yoga mats tucked under his arm.

“oh come on, it's an intermediate class! it'll probably be challenging.” you enter into the room, spotting a good place for your mats near the back of the room as you navigate through the people who arrived even earlier than you.

“besides.” you hum. “it's good to stretch those big muscles of yours.” you poke rafes bicep with a sly smile on your face, getting on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his lips.

rafe grumbles something under his breath, but the frown is gone from his lips as he lays out your mat and then his.

you both sit, arranging your other workout supplies, only one large water bottle shared between the two of you, rafe insists there's no need to bring two, liking when you're at the gym and have to come over to him to take a drink.

“people take their shoes off?” rafes face scrunches up as he looks around the room.

you can't help but giggle. “you don't have to if you don't want to, baby.”

“yeah, im definitely not.” rafe resists the urge to leave, call it quits on this class. he looks at you, reminding himself who he's doing this shit for.

“ive never taken this guy's class before, you know i always go to ashleys on tuesdays and thursdays.” you keep your voice lowered as the instructor walks into the room, greeting a few people before heading to the speakers to get the music for the class setup.

“yeah, i like ashley better than this guy.” rafe is extra thankful he agreed when you dragged him away from his weights. something about this guy already irks rafe.

you roll your eyes at rafe, chuckling softly.

“alright, hello everyone.” the instructor says, stepping to his mat at the front of the class. “i see some new faces so let me introduce myself. im christopher and this is intermediate yoga. if at any point a pose is too difficult for you, feel free to modify or drop into child's pose…”

he continues with his normal speal that you tune out, favoring to watch rafe in the reflection of the mirror, admiring your boyfriends handsome features.

“shit.” you mutter under your breath, too distracted to realize that the class had started as you quickly get into the first warm up poses.

the class flows naturally into the harder moves, the instructor walking around the room on occasion to double check no one is extending themselves too far or arching their back improperly when they're not supposed to.

you move into downward dog upon his instruction, your eyes flickering over to rafe as his shirt falls down his torso slightly, revealing his muscled abs.

you yell when a pair of hands suddenly grab your hips, pulling you a couple inches backwards.

“just correcting your form, dear.” christopher says.

you swallow harshly, feeling your cheeks heat in embarrassment at being so distracted and shouting out.

“you okay?” rafe asks, not caring that the instructor is still standing just a few feet away.

“yeah.” you quickly nod. you know rafe is probably resisting the urge to beat the shit out of him for touching you, not realizing it's quite normal in these classes, although ashley always asks your permission beforehand.

“now lower yourself onto your stomach.” the instructor comes to stand behind you again, so you make sure you're doing everything properly with the highest level of fluidity you can.

“and now spread your legs. sit back into your heels and lower your belly button to the earth. arms extend forward for wide childs pose.”

you can practically feel the instructors eyes still on you, and you know from the way rafes head is lifted that he's paying very close attention to his movements.

he leans down next to you and places his hands on your thighs, going to adjust your pose again, but you gasp when his hands don't slide to your hips and instead onto your butt.

rafe is onto his feet in a flash. “get your fucking hands off her.”

he doesn't wait for the instructor to react, pulling him off of you and pushing him into the wall. you flip to sit, as everyone else in the room does to watch the scene unfold.

“i was just correcting her form!” he quickly defends himself.

“as if.” rafe scoffs. “you were fucking groping her ass. get the fuck out of here and i never want to see you at this gym again, consider yourself fired.”

“fired?” christopher shrieks. he's not a small man, but he looks pewny next to rafe. “you can't fire me!”

“would you rather me call the police on you?” rafe grunts. “i prefer to handle shit on my own but if that's what you want…”

“you can't prove anything.” christopher says.

“i… i saw it too.” a woman next to you stands up, coming to your defense even though she doesn't look 100% sure about it.

“and he touched me inappropriately the other week.” another woman stands up. “i thought i was just being sensitive but if he's doing this to other women…”

the rest of the class nods in agreement, clearly this is a pattern with this creep.

“now get the fuck out.” rafe shoves christopher away. “and never touch another person without their permission ever again.”

everyone's eyes are on christopher as he leaves, fleeing in obvious fear.

“baby-” rafe drops down onto his knees, both his hands cupping your face. “are you okay?”

“i-” you bottom lip quivers before tears run down your cheeks. rafe moves quickly, scooping you into his lap and holding you tightly against him, letting your emotions run their course.

he watches as the other women and couple spread out guys collect their mats, understanding they aren't getting a full class today before they head out of the room.

“im so sorry, baby.” rafe coos softly. “he'll never touch you again. i won't let anyone hurt you.”

you sniffle into his shirt, grappling with what just happened. you tilt your head up to look at rafe, needing to see the softness in his eyes.

“i love you.” rafe says, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“i love you.” you tell him, moving quickly to press your lips together in an actual kiss, letting yourself find comfort in his mouth.

you pull away with a content sigh, wiping your face with your palms before you slide out of rafes arms. “im… im okay.” you say honestly, glad nothing further happened. “thanks to you.”

“come on.” rafe stands. “let's get our mats and get out of here. ice cream?”

“mhm.” you nod, knowing rafe is going to be doting over you for the rest of the week, keeping an even closer eye on you than usual.

you walk out of the yoga room and down the hallway into the lobby, seeing the crowd of people with mats tucked under their arm taking to the director of the gym.

“there he is!” the woman who spoke out about his inappropriate touching says. “there's our hero!”

you smile at rafe. your hero.

sfw taglist: @bejeweledreverie @winterrrnight @ethanthequeefqueen @ladyinbl00d

[applejuicebegood]

The Softest of Jason Todd HCs

Fem!Reader A/N: Some of these were originally conceived for the lovely, talented, wonderful @midnightorchids. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE FALLOW HER RIGHT NOW

Masterlist

Jason fell for you slowly. It was the kinda falling that took on the form of severe distraction and confusion during his patrol time. The only spot in his second life he had crafted into hours of precise control and expectancy. He hated how, as he was clicking a mag into his handgun, his mind would flash to your smiling, blushed face. He hated how you would unintentionally make him trip and stumble over the roof-tops of Gotham. He hated how recalling the chime of your laugh made his hands sweaty under his leather gloves. He hated how he had to take off his helmet in the seclusion of an abandoned wear-house because recalling how his hand slipped in to your on your last date made his face heat up to the point where he felt like he would pass out.

Once he realised that the nervous pounding in his gut whenever your shoulders brushed was in-fact caused from a growing crush on you, he panicked. The eventual confession was awkward and stumbled, him making it clear that he needed time and room to figure it out. He took your smaller hands into his, promising that no matter what, for now he would figure it out with you at his side. Of course you agreed, squeezing his hands in confirmation.

Ya'll are soulmates, period. Very big 'he is half of my soul' energy. Your bodies fit together like puzzle pieces. Your words have already been said by the other before you can string them together in your head. You share in each-others grief and rage. Five years into the relationship, Jason knew you so well (and being raised in a family of detectives) that you would never have to explain your frustration or annoyance - and on days like that he would always be ready to wrap you up in a weighted blanket, forcing a cup of raspberry tea into your cold hands and his headphones over your ears with one of his audiobooks already playing. Carrying you to your shared bed for you to fall asleep leaned up against his chest, his thick arms wrapped tightly around you.

Despite his availability of wealth and status, he keeps your date-night very low-key and personal. On his off days from Red-Hooding, both of you would have cooking nights. Where you would sway and giggle with the slow drift of music coming from the kitchen radio. You would make something hearty and filling. You wanting to see Jason sigh in the comfort of good food. You both would curl up with your steaming bowls on your couch, probably watching Tangled (at your request). It's all extremely cozy, Jason smiling into your skin as gratitude blooms in his chest for you. For having created this safe, hidden expanse of reassurance. All while the harsh Gotham wind whipped just outside your window.

This man is smitten- he worships you entirely. His is in awe of you, even as both of you grow old, his love and his care for you never relents or dwindles.

Ya'll would go to museums and art galleries and he would point at statues and paintings of goddess and queens and say 'you', under his breath. It's so horribly corny but it makes you hold his arm just a bit tighter every time.

After you both moved in together, he developed a habit of making your coffee alongside his and bringing it to you in bed in the mornings. This eventually just became your routine on weekends when you both had enough time to bask in the slow creeping of sunlight over each-others skin.

He's a romantic at heart, a part of him you had to slowly unearth under years of torment and blood. You were the one to force him out of his cave of isolation and into the reality of him deserving softness and joy. It's a dept you have assured him he doesn't need to pay back. That doesn't stop him from trying.

Giggles and smiles like a little boy if you kiss his forehead, specifically at the roots of his white streak. You think it's one of the prettiest things about him.

Unintentional scary dog when you guys are out together. He's got his hand laced with yours or floating somewhere on your hip or lower back. It's mostly due to his anxiety, constantly having his head on a swivel. It's all heightened due to the fact that he has the most precious, important individual standing next to him. Whether it's at one of his Dad's galla's or trips to the local library, he likes to have you near him.

Bitch has multiple playlists made about/for you (a lot of Noah Kahn and TV Girl)

Example:

A/N: I may be gay but I have a very special place for sappy Jason in my heart. Please send in any requests regarding our boy (or any of the bat boys or girls)- I really love writing for the people in this fandom.

[zours025]

Zombie apocalypse face au I've been thinking of...

Thoughts/details on the AU and an alt color vers of the first drawing (luring you into my evil cave) ⬇️⬇️⬇️

Face as unrelated parties... All normal humans. Caname and fruk (separately) wandering the world after generic zombie outbreak. Theyre some of the last ones left so they rarely meet people and need to depend on the other party heavily. Blahblah its miserable everyone is sad and hurt and tired. Francis had to cut off Arthurs leg to prevent an infection. Arthur has to learn to lean on Francis for a lot of stuff and they learn to get over past grudges and such... 😇 Alfred is bitten at some point and hides it from Matthew. Matthew knows, but he's basically lost any will to live and is ready to die whenever Alfred turns because. Well. "I'm only living for him anyways..." type of sentiment... They ignore it and it's never brought up but it's like. I know you know that I know that- Anyways. So those two are trying their hardest to live out their last days in relative happiness. Doing fun stuff. Appreciating the simple things, landscapes, each other's company, etc... That is until they bump into Francis and Arthur in a totally horrible state. And it's like "Well... We can't just let them die can we? We have nothing to lose anyways." So they watch over the two and care for them and once they're all in okay health they decide to stick together and move on. But Arthur and Francis are clearly more determined to live than Mattie and Alfred and they're good fighters. So they wanna keep em around, all while hiding that Alfred is slowly dying and is eventually gonna kill them all. Milking Francis and Arthur's good will... Eventually new relationships form between the four and inevitably weird "betrayal!" and jealousy type feelings show up... Francis is tired of just sleeping with Arthur and when he gets mad he flirts with either of the twins... And the like... Well I haven't thought the whole thing through but these are the important emotional bases to the idea I guess...

I wrote a scenario for many different possibilities of first-to-dies (because i find them all interesting and bcuz twitter oomf asked and i have no restraint. lole)

Alfred dies first: Most obvious scenario (like hes already a bit zombified and clearly hes getting physically weaker) Im imagining a terrible scenario no matter what. Matthew probably finds him first all hunched over and stuff womdering whats wrong before realising that it's finally the end of the line. Francis/Arthur aren't far behind and they blow "Alfreds" head off without hesitation. Obviously causes a rift between the two and Matthew, who broke their trust by hiding this from them. Matthew is inconsolable for a few days, he thought he had more time. Despite the lie I think Francis and Arthur would end up feeling sympathy. They try to keep Matthew up on his feet but frankly I think this would end with him blowing his brains out eventually anyways... 😊

Alternatively Mattie has been mentally preparing himself for a very long time and he immediately kills "Alfred" and then himself in quick succession. Francis and Arthur are haunted by the memory of the two for the rest of their trip.

Arthur dies first: Similarly, I think its easy to imagine this. He's missing a leg and mostly needs to be near someone else to survive zombie attacks/ambushes. Would probably accidentally get separated from the group and get overrun... Might use himself as a distraction to allow the other three to get away in a particularly dire situation... In a way he thinks hes just dead weight anyways and he wants to see the other three live knowing that he doesn't have much left to offer them (Francis would disagree). Francis is obviously very upset and he loses sleep over the memory of Arthur, his last "real" link to his normal life before all of this. But I think Francis is stable enough to prioritise the twins he took under his wing. He knows they need someone to keep them together, so he toughs it out. Everything is fine till Alfred turns some many months later. By then, Francis developed a strong attachment to the two and doesn't have any regrets. Would probably struggle against Alfreds strength to allow Matthew to escape or something along those lines...

Francis dies first: I can also see him just getting killed by sheer numbers. I think he grew very fond of the twins pretty fast + had to be Arthurs protection for a long time and so he developed this feeling of "I need to keep them all safe at all costs". I don't think itd be as much of a letting go type thing as Arthur. It's more calculated and would only happen in a worst-case scenario. I think Arthur would be pretty irritable for the next few weeks, a lot of things remind him of Francis. It bothers him since he wants to just forget and move on, but he finds that his feelings are more difficult to control than he initially thought. Yells a lot at Matthew and Alfred and gets into petty fights. Its not pretty, but they have their moments... In the end, it's not like he wants to make them suffer. They're all he has left now. Hes trying his best. Has a lot of days where he just wishes he had been the one to die instead.

Matthew dies first: Honestly I'm imagining a non-zombie related death, like an accident with one of the guns or some unrelated illness or like. Falling onto a branch? Falling from high up in general? Setting off a trap? Lol idk. Something that allows Alfred to hold Matthew during his final moments or at least look into his eyes. I think hes also the most liable to flip out on everyone and just kill the four of them all together idk ❤ Crazy girl ❤ It shocks Alfred immensely. He expected to be the first one to die and he's really upset about the whole thing. Outwardly, he cracks jokes and tries to convince the other two that he's fine but he's very much not. Doesn't really know what tk do with himself. Just goes through the motions every day. Francis and Arthur notice the slight change in behaviour but don't really say anything and pretend everything is fine. Playing at being a normal family. Arthur and Francis try spending lots of time with Alfred but nothing really helps. Eventually Alfred turns without ever telling them he was infected and they all die the end. Alternatively he kills the other two and then himself on like a random Tuesday. ❤

Bonus: Everyone except Alfred dies lol. Alone in the desolate empty landscape. Welp!!! What now!!!

If you saw my first post of this text part no you didn't im editing this and putting it here with the drawing its more organised ❤ okay ❤

[grimmweepers]

— ☆ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: although it wasn’t in the way that he planned, zhongli finally proposes to you ♡

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Zhongli x F!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.7k | masterlist | byf/dni

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: fluff, toothrotting fluff, established relationship, he calls you ‘my love’, ‘dearest’, you’re aware of him being the former archon, set at that floating island in the sky, you guys are so so in love lalalala

reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

this piece is part of a flufftober event by spookuna ♡

For a moment, Zhongli couldn’t believe the words that left his lips. It had slipped out so naturally, so casually, as if he were merely asking about the weather. The question always lingered within him, much like the ring that waited patiently in his pocket whenever he decided the time wasn’t quite right.

Zhongli, a man of tradition, had always envisioned asking you at an appointed hour, at an appointed place, where the occasion would be nothing short of extraordinary.

Yet, here it was, out in the open, spoken with such casualness that betrayed its significance.

A gentle breeze swept across the landscape, nudging the summer clouds into a lazy drift. It was a cozy day for Liyue and as the sun made its descent below the horizon, the sky transformed into a fiery shade of orange.

High above Teyvat, hidden amidst the clouds, two pairs of legs dangled over a small floating island. They belonged to you and the former Archon, who often sought refuge in this corner of Liyue. Your fingers were intertwined with his as you gazed over the endless expanse. Finally free of prying eyes and the demands of everyday life, you sighed.

“Isn’t Liyue extra beautiful today, Zhongli?”

“It is, indeed,” he hummed, yet his eyes were not on the fading day. His gaze was fixed solely on you who sat beside him so calm and content, that he almost felt a pang of loss when you let go of his hand to rest your chin in your palm.

A small smile formed at the corners of your lips when his response reached your ears but your attention remained at the world below.

“I think you would appreciate its beauty more if you actually looked, you fool,” you replied, chuckling as you turned his face toward the dotted treetops and silhouettes of tiny homes.

Zhongli feigned a tired sigh, “No, I’m very aware of Liyue’s grace. I just prefer what’s in front of me, my love.”

You nudged him playfully, your legs swinging carelessly in the air. If there was a part of you that was afraid of heights, it vanished entirely in his presence.

“I’m serious,” He said, sliding an arm around your waist as a subtle invitation for you to relax your head on his shoulders.

He was serious though.

Being immortal— he had learned— was both a gift and a curse. It granted him both solitude and loneliness. He watched Liyue grow through centuries as if it were his very child and only two years ago, you had marched into his life like a reminder that love had not forgotten him. Beyond even the gift of immortality, you gave him a reason to cherish the present. So yes, he was utterly serious about choosing you above all else.

Unaware of his contemplation, you decided to tease him. “So you’re telling me you’re growing tired of Liyue?” You knew he wasn’t but what was the point of being tough and impenetrable if you couldn’t poke a bit of fun?

“How could I?” he shook his head. “Liyue is forever new and beautiful. You, however, are just a terrible distraction.”

You both laughed but there was weight to his words. Selfishly, he was thankful for not being the Archon anymore because, by Celestia above, you would have distracted him more than he dared to admit from his duties.

Then you remembered something.

“Oh, right!” You sat up and a soft smile played on your lips when you began taking out a book from your travel bag. The stiff cover and imperfect stitching suggested to him that you had made it yourself.

“I have something to show you.” You opened to the first page and there was a photo of you two from one of your travels. “Remember this?”

He chuckled, the memory still vivid in his head, “Do you know who you’re speaking to?” Zhongli took the book from you, studying it before flipping to the next page and then the next.

“I can see that you’ve put the photos in order… How thoughtful.”

You nodded.

Then he stopped at a certain picture, “Ah, our first Lantern Rite together— that was a pleasant night. You were so enchanted by those noodles from that vendor, that you insisted on having them for dinner all week.”

“And for some reason, my hunger has not yet been quelled, Zhongli,” you teased with another nudge.

“Soon, soon. I promise,” he replied with a sly grin only reserved for you.

“You know,” you began, “I’d like to travel beyond Liyue someday.”

“Where would you go?” he raised a brow at the sudden statement.

You hummed, thinking for a moment and then you pointed at the patch of emerald forestry barely visible through the billowing clouds, “Sumeru— the jungles there are supposed to be incredible. Or perhaps Inazuma. The cherry blossoms there are breathtaking,” turning more to the south as you said the latter.

As always, Zhongli listened while you rambled on about your future adventures.

“...We could go anywhere, do anything,” You suggested at the end of your little spiel.

“We can plan something,” he agreed.

“Oh, it’d be magical,” your heart swelled at the idea, “Maybe we could even reach Fontaine and have a picnic by their waters.”

You nearly gasped at how remarkable your idea was, “Oh my, Zhongli. Can you imagine sitting under the sun? With a book? My bones are getting all relaxed just thinking about—”

“Dearest?” Zhongli gently interrupted.

“Yes?” You replied, slightly worried about talking too much.

“Do you suppose we could keep doing this?”

“This?” You looked around the floating island, admittedly a little bewildered, “As in, coming here? Why would we ever stop?”

“No, no. I’m referring to us, just being together wherever we go. It doesn’t matter to me where we are.”

“Zhongli…”

“Do you think we could continue this… journey together?”

The question hung in the air, simple yet profound.

At this point, you turned fully to him, gaze softening as you met his amber eyes. They were wise and longing and wonderfully human.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Any form of hesitation died in his throat as he fiddled with his pocket and presented a ring to you. The world faded into a soft blur as he did.

“Then do you suppose you could marry me?”

Nothing but your breath escaped your lips. You were momentarily speechless. Sure, Zhongli had been oddly quiet but today was meant to be just another day. Now, your reality as you knew it became a distant memory.

He swallowed hard as he held the ring. It looked ancient but well-preserved, like a piece of fine craftsmanship. The gold band had delicate carvings unfamiliar to you and the stone was cut in such a way that it caught and refracted the last rays of sunlight as if it were alive. Maybe it was the remnants of divinity residing in him, but it radiated a soothing warmth in his hand. How would anyone believe that a humble consultant at the Wangsheng funeral parlour proposed to you with this?

Your chest began to bubble with emotion and you wanted to scream.

“Y-You want to marry me?” Your voice caught in your throat.

You could feel yourself getting hot, the reality of him wanting to be with you forever slowly crept up on you.

“Yes, I simply want to enjoy life with you. But if it takes a contract to call you my wife then of all the contracts I’ve ever woven, this one will remain my final and most sacred.”

He looked at you with a reverent smile.

“So what do you say?”

You pulled him into a tight embrace, feeling his words settle over you. In front of you wasn’t just the God of Contracts; he was the man who captured your heart. For every lingering kiss, every fulfilled promise, every time he opened you up to a new world of knowledge even when you thought you saw it all, and for every time he lent an ear and believed in your dreams— you knew what your answer would be.

“Yes. Yes!” The second time sounded louder than the last. Your voice was full of so much tenderness and conviction. You couldn’t stop saying it. “Yes, a thousand times, yes.” If you told the version of yourself from many years ago that you would be this important to someone, you would laugh.

“Thank you,” he said in the most sincere voice you’ve ever heard. “You have made me the happiest I’ve felt in a long time.”

Zhongli slid the ring onto your finger before cupping your face. You could feel the trail of kisses he was leaving on your forehead, then down your cheeks, and finally they found home between the plush of your lips— his kisses were so warm and gentle that it was hard to believe this was the same God people described as having a heart of stone.

Everything around you seemed to pause. The sun had almost fully set and the sky was now painted with the first hint of evening stars. With you in his arms, he wondered if this sense of peace came from being on this island or from the fact that he could now soon call you his wife.

Wife… he repeated in his head. His wife… it sounded just right.

A crisp breeze had settled between the two of you, perhaps for the better, to calm your burning hearts. After finally breaking away from him, you were the first to speak.

“So, what do we do now?”

Zhongli chuckled, pressing a kiss to your hair, “We continue, just as we always have… However, I hope you don’t mind me being a little more permanent to you now.”

“Permanent, huh?” You smiled, feeling a warmth coursing through you that had nothing to do with the summer air. “I like the sound of that.”

Eventually, Zhongli rose, helping you to your feet. He offered you his arm with a familiar gentlemanly gesture, “It’s getting a little dark. Shall we head back, my love”

“Mmm,” You slipped into his grasp, “Let’s go home.”

Home. The meaning was always tied to Liyue, by the earth and stone he had shaped for thousands of years. But now that's changed.

No matter where the world took him, as long as he faced it side-by-side with you, he knew that home would be wherever you were. Seeing you was like returning to a place he never truly left. Lost in thought, his thumb brushed gently over the ring he had just placed on your finger.

Home.

Zhongli liked the sound of that.

For the first time in his long life, the word felt complete.

a/n: i actually wrote this for an oc a while back, but i’m so glad i get to share this with people because i was so smitten at the time of writing it and reading this brings back all those feelings

© 2024 grimmweepers — do not repost, copy, translate, modify my work on any platform

all dividers are from @/chachachannah

[fratttymatty]

The Basement

(All characters are 18+)

Elliot York had always lived in a world of his own making. A world painted in shades of faded Polaroids, sepia-toned photography, and the tactile hum of his beloved vintage film camera. At 30 years old, he'd never left his childhood home. His mother didn’t mind. She was just happy he was there, safely tucked away in the basement, where he spent hours surrounded by his photography equipment, sketchbooks, and the scent of old books. His life had always been quiet and unassuming—except for the occasional flare-up of frustration over his stalled career as a freelance photographer and artist.

The basement was his sanctuary. He had put up curtains to separate the clutter of his workspace from the cozy corner where he gamed, lounged on old leather sofas, and tried (and failed) to distract himself from the loneliness that gnawed at him. The art on the walls, his collection of vintage cameras, the scattered paintbrushes and half-finished canvases—they were all remnants of a dream that had long been abandoned. But Elliot had found peace there, or at least a dull form of acceptance.

But one evening, as he sunk into his usual routine—editing photos, sipping cheap wine, and scrolling through social media—something strange began to happen. The room felt different. The walls started to shift and hum with an energy that he couldn’t quite understand. It wasn’t a good feeling, not the cozy, familiar vibe that usually calmed him after a long day. No, this was something else. It was unsettling, almost alien.

Elliot stood up, his bare feet cold against the concrete floor. He reached for his phone to check the time, but the screen went black before he could tap it. As if on cue, the lights flickered, then dimmed, and then everything went dark. The silence that followed felt suffocating.

Before he could react, the floor beneath him began to tremble. His heart raced, and the air seemed to pulse with something he couldn’t name. Suddenly, there was a blinding flash, a searing light that filled every corner of the room. He shielded his eyes, but it was no use. The glow was everywhere.

The sound of furniture shifting, re-arranging itself, reached his ears. When the light finally faded, Elliot opened his eyes to find that the basement had transformed into something… different.

Where his art studio had once been, now stood a private gym. The walls were lined with weights, punching bags, and racks of dumbbells. There was a neon sign in the corner that read “GET BIG OR GO HOME,” and a large flat-screen TV mounted on the opposite wall, with gaming consoles strewn across a low table. His leather sofas had been replaced with sleek beanbag chairs, and there were posters of famous athletes and cars decorating the walls. The entire room reeked of sweat and testosterone.

Elliot staggered backward, his mind scrambling to process what had just happened. He looked around in a daze. This… this wasn’t his space. This was some jock’s lair. It was everything he wasn’t. But before he could piece together what was going on, he felt a strange tug in the pit of his stomach. It was an almost physical sensation, a deep, primal force pulling at him, rewiring him, altering him in ways he couldn’t comprehend.

And then it started.

His body began to heat up, the air around him feeling thicker, as if his very cells were being remade. His skin stretched and tightened, his muscles swelling unnaturally as the change began. Elliot gasped, but the sound came out wrong. His voice, once soft and melodic, deepened into something guttural, more masculine. The edges of his vision blurred as the pain started to radiate from the inside out.

His hands, once slender and artistic, grew thick with muscle. His arms were covered in a sheen of sweat as his shoulders broadened and his chest expanded. His abdomen contracted and thickened, forming the abs of a bodybuilder. He could feel the air leaving his lungs as the transformation continued—each breath a battle. His legs grew stronger, thicker, the bones in his legs cracking and reshaping, giving him the powerful legs of a jock.

As the changes continued, Elliot's mind was bombarded by new thoughts, new instincts. The urge to lift weights, to work out, to dominate, it all consumed him. His thoughts flickered and shifted, like pages turning in a book, each one erasing a part of his old self.

His hair was the first thing he noticed. The bleached buzzcut he had been sporting for the past year—decorated with delicate flowers and a symbol of his indie artist lifestyle—was gone. In its place was a thick, dark brown fringe that fell messily across his forehead, styled in the latest TikTok jock fashion. He ran a hand through it, surprised at how it felt so right to him now.

His clothing, too, had transformed. The oversized hoodie and vintage jeans he had been wearing were gone, replaced by a fitted, tight athletic shirt and cargo shorts that clung to his newly muscled thighs. He stared at himself in the reflective surface of the gym mirror. The person staring back at him was unrecognizable.

The most shocking change, however, was the way his mind worked. Elliot—no, the person who had been Elliot—was slipping away. His new name was Ethan. He knew that now. He felt it. The name Ethan York seemed to pulse in his veins. The old worries about art, about the future, about being different—all of that was fading. In its place, a new drive surged within him: sports, girls, and partying. The thrill of competition, of lifting weights, of kissing girls on couches like these… that was what mattered now.

Ethan stood there for what felt like hours, unable to tear his eyes away from the mirror. His entire identity was slipping through his fingers like sand. His old life—the life of an artist, of a photographer, of someone who had longed to find his place in the world—felt distant now, like it belonged to someone else. It no longer seemed to matter.

A loud cheer echoed through the basement, and Ethan realized with a jolt that there were people here now. His friends—his new friends—were hanging out in the basement, lifting weights, laughing, playing video games, and throwing around crude jokes. One of them, a tall guy with broad shoulders and a thick neck, slapped Ethan on the back.

“Yo, dude, you ready for the party later?” he asked, his voice full of that easy confidence that Ethan now understood all too well.

“Yeah, for sure,” Ethan replied with a grin that felt so natural, it was as if he had always smiled like this. His old self—the one who had stared at the world through the lens of a camera, capturing fleeting moments—was gone.

As Ethan joined his friends, slipping into the role of the charismatic jock, he realized that there was no going back. He had been reborn. His old life, his old dreams, everything that had once been important to him, now felt hollow, irrelevant.

The basement—the gym, the gaming consoles, the posters of athletes—was no longer a prison of his own making. It was home. And for the first time in a long time, Ethan felt free.

He never once looked back.

The first few days after the transformation were a blur of new experiences, sensations, and… changes. Ethan, as he was now called, settled into his new life with an unsettling ease. At first, there was a part of him—buried deep inside—that clung to the remnants of his old identity. The artist. The creative soul. The man who had spent years living in his mother's basement, making art and dreaming of a different life. But that part of him quickly became overshadowed by the aggressive, hyper-masculine energy that now consumed him.

The more he worked out, the more his body seemed to crave the endorphin rush of weightlifting, of winning, of being the best. His muscles were constantly sore, but the pain felt good—it felt like he was becoming something greater, something stronger, something… dominant. And the more he grew in this new identity, the more he found himself disdainful of anything weak, anything soft. His patience with his old hobbies—photography, art, writing—waned. His camera, once a tool of self-expression, now sat neglected in the corner of his room, gathering dust.

Ethan started to feel that old life was for losers. The people he used to admire—quirky artists, introverted thinkers, anyone who didn’t fit into the tight mold of a jock—seemed… pathetic now. And in its place, a new breed of arrogance and entitlement bloomed within him. He was the center of his world now, and he knew it. The stares, the whispers—he loved them. He could feel the eyes of girls on him whenever he walked into a room, and it sent a rush of pride through his veins.

"Yo, Ethan, you gonna hit the gym today or what?" a voice called out as he walked through the basement. His buddy, Kyle, was sprawled across the new couch, his feet up on the coffee table, wearing a tank top that showcased his broad arms.

"Yeah, in a minute," Ethan replied with a lazy shrug, flipping his dark, messy hair out of his eyes. He no longer cared about the quiet, artistic moments he'd once cherished. Instead, he reveled in the shallow conversations, the jokes about how much protein they were consuming, and the constant flexing of muscles.

But then there were those moments, the ones that made his blood boil—moments that left a sour taste in his mouth, even in the high of his newfound popularity.

One evening, he was hanging out with a group of his friends—drinking beer and playing video games in the transformed basement, laughing too loud, throwing insults at each other like it was the height of wit. The mood was light, but there was something that cut through the laughter that made Ethan’s muscles tense, his jaw clench.

A guy he barely knew—Mark, one of the freshmen from the high school he still technically attended—had shown up at the party, wearing a tight shirt that clung to his body a little too snugly for Ethan's liking. Mark wasn’t a jock, not in the way Ethan now thought of as right. He was more on the geeky side, wearing glasses and talking too much about video games instead of football.

“Yo, Ethan, I didn’t know you liked photography,” Mark said awkwardly, holding a bottle of soda like it was his lifeline.

Ethan glanced over at him with a raised eyebrow. “Yeah, I used to be into that art stuff. Now I’m focused on real things, y’know? Like... working out.” His voice was rougher now, full of the newfound arrogance that he couldn't even recognize as self-loathing anymore.

Mark fumbled with his drink. "Oh, cool. I mean, I think it's awesome how, like, artistic people can still be jocks."

Ethan’s expression shifted immediately. His lip curled into a sneer, and his eyes narrowed. “Artistic, huh? That’s cute. You know what I think about art?” He looked down at Mark with mock pity. “It’s for soft people. You know, like… weirdos.” His words were sharp, cutting through the air like a knife. The others at the party laughed, clearly uncomfortable but complicit in the joke.

Mark flushed, visibly shrinking under Ethan’s gaze. Ethan wasn’t even thinking about it at this point; he was just speaking what came naturally. The idea that someone could be into photography and still be tough, still be masculine, felt so wrong to him now. He couldn’t put it into words, but his gut told him that real men didn’t concern themselves with art or sensitivity. Real men got girls, lifted heavy weights, and dominated life. His new life.

But it wasn’t just about art. Ethan’s homophobia had grown like a weed in a garden, spreading uncontrollably. It was like his new self had to rewrite every part of him, especially the parts that could be considered “weak” or “soft.” His tolerance for things that felt “feminine” had evaporated, and soon, even the smallest hint of something that was remotely “gay” or “queer” made his skin crawl.

At one point, when a guy from school—Chris—who was a bit more effeminate and openly gay, sat down on the couch near him, Ethan felt his blood pressure spike. Chris had always been polite, always too friendly, but Ethan had never given it much thought—until now.

"Hey, Ethan," Chris said, adjusting his hoodie and running a hand through his sleek hair. "You up for a game later?"

Ethan didn’t look at him at first. Instead, he took a long swig of his beer, his eyes scanning the room. "Nah, man. I’m good," he muttered, his tone dismissive.

Chris laughed awkwardly. "Alright, well… if you change your mind, you know where I am."

Ethan’s eyes flicked back to Chris, narrowing. “Honestly, dude, you should maybe… like, tone it down a little,” he said, his voice low, deliberately cutting. "You don’t have to be all... effeminate all the time. It’s a little weird."

His words hung in the air, like a heavy stone.

Chris blinked, clearly taken aback. "What do you mean?" he asked, his face shifting with confusion.

Ethan leaned back, his gaze hardening. "I mean... just… you're acting like you’re in a fucking musical or something." He chuckled, but it sounded hollow even to him. “You don’t need to act so… gay all the time. It’s just uncomfortable for everyone.”

There was a cold silence in the room. Mark, Kyle, and the others shifted uncomfortably, but no one said anything. They just stared, either not caring or too afraid to speak up.

Ethan didn’t care. He was beyond caring.

He was a man now. And men didn’t have time for weakness, for sensitivity, for anything that didn’t fit into the world he had molded for himself. The girl he had been flirting with earlier, Mia—she was all over him now, and that felt like the only thing that mattered. He wasn’t some soft, emotional artist anymore. He was Ethan York, and he was popular, and he was a man.

The party continued late into the night. Ethan and his friends played video games, traded insults, and knocked back more beers. The air was thick with bravado, and everyone seemed to be having a good time. But Mark—who had been pushed aside by Ethan's cruel words earlier—remained quiet, nursing his soda.

He watched Ethan, his old classmate, with a strange mix of fascination and unease. Something about Ethan had shifted, something deep, something unsettling. But at the same time, Mark couldn’t help but feel a weird sense of longing—a desire to be part of the group, to be part of what Ethan had become. There was a magnetism about Ethan now, something powerful and alluring. And despite everything inside him that told him he didn’t belong in this world, a small voice in his head whispered that maybe, just maybe, he could change.

It was then that the transformation began.

It started subtly, like the shifting of shadows, creeping through Mark’s body like a slow burn. He felt a wave of heat flood through his chest, his limbs tingling with unfamiliar energy. He was still sitting on the couch, his eyes locked on Ethan as if hypnotized, but everything around him seemed to blur. His body seemed to ache, his muscles pulsing as if they were being stretched and expanded.

Mark’s hands clenched, his knuckles cracking as his fingers thickened with new muscle. His legs seemed to twitch, his jeans growing tighter around his thighs as they bulked up, swelling with new strength. He gasped, his breath catching in his throat as his entire body seemed to reshape itself, and his thoughts—his old, nerdy thoughts—faded away, replaced by an overwhelming desire to fit in, to be powerful, to be strong.

His clothes felt tight, uncomfortably so, and with a sickening snap, his shirt ripped open across his chest as his pecs ballooned out. His face burned, his jawline sharpening, and his hair—once messy and unruly—now fell in a dark, tousled fringe that framed his face in the exact same style as Ethan's. He barely recognized himself. Mark’s body, once scrawny and awkward, was now a mass of muscle, solid and imposing.

He stood up, suddenly feeling taller, stronger—almost as if he was made to stand out. He looked around the room, his gaze landing on Ethan, who stared back with a mixture of amusement and pride. Mark didn’t say a word.

The transformation had taken hold completely.

“Yo, Ethan,” Mark said, his voice now deep and confident, full of swagger. His tongue felt heavier in his mouth, and his words came out with a new arrogance, “This is fucking awesome.”

Ethan smirked, clearly satisfied. "Welcome to the team, bro," he said, throwing an arm around Mark’s newly broad shoulders, the two of them standing side-by-side. It felt natural, as if this was how it had always been.

Mark didn’t hesitate. His old self—the nerd, the shy, creative guy who had spent hours tinkering with gadgets and buried in his books—was gone. In its place stood someone who had finally found their place in the world. Mark was a man, and he wasn’t going back.

The soft hum of the gym in Ethan’s basement was now a constant background noise in his life—weights clanging, music blasting, and the occasional cheer of a newly broken record. The basement had been his domain, but in the last few months, it had become more than that. It had become the center of his life, not just in terms of workouts and gaming, but in how he’d built the new life he’d always dreamed of—confident, strong, and undeniably him.

But the biggest change had nothing to do with the weights or the video games. It had everything to do with her.

Mia.

She was sitting on the couch, her legs tucked up under her as she flipped through a magazine, occasionally glancing up at Ethan as he adjusted his dumbbells. The space between them was no longer just one of attraction or chemistry—it was something deeper now, something rooted in trust and understanding. They had been together for several months, and while the world around Ethan had transformed beyond recognition, there was one constant—Mia.

And she’d always had a way of seeing beyond the surface.

“Hey, how’s the game going?” Mia asked, a playful edge to her voice. She didn’t need to say much to get his attention.

Ethan grinned, setting down the weights. He wiped the sweat from his brow, then leaned against the wall, glancing at her. “Crushing it. Of course.” He winked, his tone cocky, but the smile on his face was genuine.

Mia raised an eyebrow, a teasing glint in her eyes. “You’re always crushing it,” she said, her voice light but full of affection. "You need to teach me your secret sometime."

Ethan laughed, walking over and sitting next to her on the couch, his hand naturally resting on the back of her neck. He let his fingers trail lightly over the skin there, brushing away a strand of hair. “You mean the secret to being irresistible?” he said, voice laced with playful arrogance.

She snorted. “You really do have an ego now, don’t you?”

He grinned, but the cocky edge in his voice softened. “Maybe a little. But I’m not complaining. Life’s good right now.” He took a deep breath, feeling the quiet satisfaction of his success, but it wasn’t about the muscles or the achievements. It was about the life he had built—and who he was building it with.

Mia reached up to cup his jaw, her fingers gentle as they traced the sharp line of his face. She studied him, her expression softening. “Yeah,” she said quietly, “I can see that. But you know what? I’m proud of you, Ethan. You’ve worked hard for all of this. I see the difference in you.”

Ethan smiled, the weight of her words settling warmly in his chest. “I don’t think I could’ve done it without you, Mia.”

She tilted her head slightly, still holding his gaze. “Maybe not. But you did it. And that’s all you.”

There was a silence between them—one of those comfortable, content moments that didn’t need any words. He knew what she meant. She wasn’t just talking about the physical changes—those were easy. What she meant was that he’d grown into a person who wasn’t afraid to be himself anymore. He wasn’t pretending to be someone he wasn’t, or hiding behind old insecurities. He was a man who had claimed his place in the world—and who had found someone who not only accepted him, but loved him for exactly who he was.

Their lips met softly in a kiss, one that wasn’t rushed or full of desperation, but one that carried years of silent understanding. They’d both grown over the past months—not just together, but as individuals. Ethan had finally come to realize that strength wasn’t just physical—it was emotional, too. And Mia had always been there, steady and real, pulling him forward whenever he felt like he was slipping.

As they pulled away, Mia grinned up at him. “So, what are we doing tonight? I was thinking we could actually hang out in the real world instead of this basement gym.”

Ethan laughed. “You mean… like a date? Outside of this cave?”

“Exactly,” she said, her smile wide and genuine. “Maybe we could hit up that new sushi place you’ve been talking about? You know, actually go somewhere without a weight bench involved?”

Ethan thought about it for a moment. He was used to the basement—the familiar pull of weights, the games, the comfort of his private space. But as he looked at Mia, at the way her eyes sparkled when she talked about something as simple as dinner out, he realized that there were more important things than the four walls that had once defined his life.

“Sounds perfect,” he said, reaching down to take her hand. “I think I’m ready for something new.”

Mia grinned, squeezing his hand. “You mean you’re finally ready to leave your little kingdom?”

Ethan chuckled, pulling her up from the couch and leading her toward the door. “Maybe. But don’t get used to it. The basement's still got a few more workouts left in me.”

Mia laughed, her head resting against his shoulder as they walked out the door together. She was right—Ethan had changed. And while the muscle and the confidence were part of it, the real change had happened inside. He was no longer the guy who hid in the shadows of his mother’s basement, afraid to show the world who he truly was. Now, he was the man who had built his life, step by step, with the strength of his own will—and with the love of someone who saw him, really saw him, for all of it.

And as he stepped into the world outside, hand in hand with Mia, Ethan knew that whatever came next, he was ready for it. For the first time in his life, he wasn’t just surviving. He was living.

And he had someone by his side to enjoy it with.

[wolfiihoney]

Fair day with papa Toji

I love daddy toji and baby gumi sm!!!

Please enjoy.💖 btw this isn’t my art, all credit goes to the owner.<333

Unedited hehe

You woke up at 9 in the morning on a beautiful Saturday with a huge smile on your face.

Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you rolled over to Toji's side of the bed, but he was already halfway on top of you, his enormous body draped across yours.

You couldn't help but love the way he smushed you with his weight, so you whispered in his ear "Psst, Toji? Babbyyyyy, wake up.”

"Doll... what are you doing?" Toji mumbled, still half asleep.

He was used to your morning antics and secretly loved them.

You kissed his shoulder and nestled into it, wishing you could merge with his skin. Toji felt the same way about you.

"Mmm, doll," he said, flipping onto your back so that he could hover over you, his large hand gently caressing your soft face. "I'm sure it's much earlier than the time we actually need to be up on a Saturday."

He looked down at you, his sharp eyes soft with affection.

"You always wake up so early on the weekends," he said with a small smile, continuing to stroke your cheek. "I don't know how you do it."

He leaned down and planted a soft kiss on your forehead, his lips lingering for a moment.

"You're like a little sunbeam in the morning, always so full of energy. It’s not very contagious, baby” he said “So tell me why are we up?”

You laughed at the big sleepyhead “It’s fair day! We promised Megumi we’d take him to the fair today, remember?”

Toji's sleepy smile widened as you reminded him of his promise to Megumi.

"Ah, right," he said, his eyes fully open now. "We did promise to take him to the fair, didn't we? Can't have the little troublemaker feeling disappointed."

You gave him a playful little shove on his sculpted chest, trying to maintain focus.

"Now, behave yourself," you scolded, secretly enjoying the way view he was giving, he could be quite distracting. A quick glance at his muscular form and you knew if you weren't careful, you'd never leave the bed.

“Okay toji get dressed, I’ll go wake gumi up.” You said hopping out of bed over to the lovely dresser Toji built for you. You were going through the huge dresser fiddling through the huge folded stack of underwear, underwear that Toji keeps buying. “Ugh Toji, I wish you’d stop buying me so much underwear. I can never find my comfortable ones.”

Toji chuckled from the bed, his eyes still on you as you sifted through the drawer of underwear.

"Aww, but doll, seeing you in those cute little lacy things is one of my favorite pastimes," he said, a cheeky grin on his face.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes, your fingers still digging through the pile of undergarments.

"Yeah, I know you like them, but these are too uncomfortable," you whined, holding up a particularly fancy pair of lace panties. Toji laid back on the bed, arms behind his head and completely naked, the blanket riding precariously low on his hips.

He gave you a smirk, his eyes raking over your form.

"Aww, doll, no need to wear any underwear," he said, a hint of playfulness in his voice. "Daddy likes easy access anyway."

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment, and you hurried out of the bedroom towards the bathroom.

"Toji, stop it!" you exclaimed, hands covering your flushed face.

He let out a loud laugh as you fled the room.

After composing yourself in the bathroom mirror, you emerged from the shower to find your sweet baby Megumi sitting at the table, indulging in whatever Toji had prepared for him.

"Good morning, sweetie," you greeted, giving his hair a warm ruffle.

"Hi, Mommy" Megumi replied, crumbs falling from his mouth a little as he looked up at you with a beaming smile.

You couldn't help but smile back at your mature baby. He certainly had inherited his father's laid-back demeanor, a striking contrast to your bubbly personality.

Toji patted Megumi's head affectionately as the little boy hurried to finish his breakfast.

"That's my boy," Toji said, a hint of pride in his voice. "Eat up, the fair starts in twenty minutes. We don't wanna miss out on the fun, do we?"

Megumi shook his head vigorously, a giggle escaping his lips as he shoveled the food into his mouth with increased haste.

Toji watched megumi with pride as he ate his breakfast, The family you both had built together was a testament to Toji's determination and resilience, silencing all those who once doubted him.

He looped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer for a quick kiss. That simple gesture from him filled your morning with even more warmth and joy, and you responded with a soft smile, basking in the affection he showered upon you.

—

The fair was bustling with energy as little kids ran about, their tongues stained blue from cotton candy and joyous screams filling the air. However, the day wasn't all fun and games for everyone, as the sound of a little girl crying from dropping her ice cream cone in the background (Toji laughed at her a bit)

You had, unfortunately, taken on a roller coaster ride a little too intense for your stomach, leaving you leaning against Toji and heaving into a nearby trash can.

Toji gently rubbed your back. “Are you okay, doll?” He said with a little chuckle and with a weak smile you nodded

You managed a slightly sheepish grin, "Yeah, I think I'm good," you said, still getting over the rollercoaster-induced nausea. "It was fun though… maybe I should go again!?”

Toji chuckled at your suggestion to go again, shaking his head fondly. "Maybe rest first, huh?" he replied, knowing he wanted to tell you to sit your ass down but couldn't resist the sight of your smile.

Toji's heart warmed as he heard your attempt to brush off the aftermath of the rollercoaster ride. He knew you were always the daredevil type, yet seeing you look a little green around the edges softened his heart.

Megumi on the other hand, blissfully unaware of the situation, was having a blast, running around and enjoying the fair. Toji watched his favorite little guy have the time of his life and Seeing his son so happy made Toji a little emotional, and a slight blush dusted his cheeks. Toji's heart filled with a mixture of joy and sadness as he watched Megumi running around, thoroughly enjoying the fair. Seeing his son so carefree and happy stirred up memories of his own troubled childhood. A melancholy smile tugged at the corners of his lips as his eyes glassed over.

Toji couldn't help but contrast his own youth with the beautiful scene unfolding in front of him. It was a moment of bittersweet emotion, as he cherished the sight of Megumi's happiness while carrying the weight of his difficult past, and it made him slightly teary-eyed, though he tried to conceal it. You on the other hand noticed Toji's demeanor turn slightly sad and it made you worry, not wanting to ruin anyone's fun you brushed it off but only for now.

After the fun-filled fair, you were all back home, preparing for dinner. Toji was locked in a playful, totally not serious game of “tug-of-war” with Megumi over a piece of candy the little one had won earlier. As you were in the kitchen, thoughts of Toji's sudden emotional moment at the fair danced through your mind. Knowing that expressing his feelings wasn't his strongest suit and that you weren't much better, therapy was something you both attended weekly. But now, you found yourself wondering about the emotions Toji had experienced that day.

Once dinner was over and Megumi safely tucked into bed, you stepped into the living room and found Toji sitting quietly on the couch, his gaze fixated on a stuffed animal.

Toji seemed lost in thought, his eyes distant and contemplative. He didn't notice your approach at first, his mind seemingly miles away. As you stood there studying him, a mixture of curiosity and concern filled your heart.

You sat down beside Toji, your touch on his hand gentle and soothing. "Whatcha thinking about baby?" you asked quietly.

He sighed softly, returning the squeeze to your hand. "Just... how proud I am of Megumi," he confessed.

Your heart swelled with affection at his words. "He's truly amazing," you agreed, giving him a tender kiss on the cheek. "And it's all because of you," you added, acknowledging his role in Megumi's upbringing.

Toji let out a soft chuckle, his gaze fixing on you. "Nah," he replied, his smile gentle. "It's because of you."

You decided to probe further, sensing his earlier emotions. "Toji, why did you get so emotional earlier today? Is everything okay?"

Toji inhaled deeply, his eyes darting away for a brief moment before returning to your gaze. "I've told you about my childhood and seeing Megumi reminded me of how much neglect I experienced," he shared, his voice heavy with memories. You nodded, empathy etched on your face. "I know, Toji," you said gently, holding his hand as a gesture of support.

"But you're breaking that cycle," you continued, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "You're providing Megumi with love and care, and though that’s something you may have not received as a child, you're giving him the childhood you deserved."

Toji's eyes softened at your words, vulnerability flashing across his face. He looked down at your intertwined hands, the weight of your understanding sinking in.

"I never want Megumi to feel the loneliness and indifference I experienced," he admitted his voice a mixture of pain and determination. "I want him to have a family, a home, and a father that would love him no matter what. I never want him to know the emptiness I felt growing up."

As Toji's confession settled in the air, the weight of his past and the love he held for his son hung heavy between you both. Feeling a need to comfort him, you delicately moved closer, your hand still holding his.

"You're doing such a wonderful job with him," you encouraged gently. "Megumi is so lucky to have you as his father. You're giving him everything you never had, and that's what makes you an incredible dad." Toji's lips curled into a bittersweet smile as he looked at you. "I just want him to have a better life than I did," he said quietly.

You moved even closer, your presence a gentle balm to his troubled heart. "And he does," you reassured him. "He has a loving family, a stable home, and a father who cares for him deeply."

Toji's gaze shifted back to yours, his eyes reflecting a mix of vulnerability and appreciation. "You always know how to make me feel better," he murmured, squeezing your hand affectionately.

The emotional intensity began to lift a bit, replaced by a warm sense of comfort. Toji's smile softened, and he gently rubbed his thumb across the back of your hand.

He chuckled lightly then said, "You know, it's not just Megumi who's lucky. I got pretty damn lucky finding you too."

Your heart fluttered at his words, a soft smile gracing your lips. "Oh, stop it," you chided playfully, gently swatting at his shoulder.

But Toji wasn't having any of it. He pulled you closer, his free arm wrapping around your waist. "I mean it," he said, his gaze intense. "Finding you was the best thing that ever happened to me."

As the moment between you and Toji deepened, a lighthearted mood began to settle in. Toji's eyes twinkled with amusement as he tightened his arm around your waist.

"Now that Megumi's asleep," he began, his voice low and sultry, "how about you give me a little fashion show with all of those uncomfortable panties you were complaining about earlier, huh?"

“Bye Toji!” You shouted as you ran out of the living room and all you could hear was the boom of laughter coming from your crazy husband

[mydadleft471]

An Ailing Heart, A Shimmering Soul

Summary: Another Tarnished invades the Shadow Keep and Messmer takes care of them. But something seems off this time. You comfort him when he is most vulnerable.

Spoilers, per usual, for Elden Ring and Shadow of the Erdtree. Warnings for descriptions of violence and a slight amount of spice wink wonk ;D (I've never wrote anything spicy please go easy on my ass, I'm so down bad)

I had two requests, one from the lovely @asianbutnotjapanese and the other from anonymous, and I thought they'd go so well together! I'll link the posts here and here! Thank you both for the requests! I love writing comfort for this lanky man.

As always, thank you for reading, reblogging, liking, and commenting! It makes my day every single time!

Another Tarnished had invaded the Shadow Keep today. This one made it to Messmer himself. Many others found themselves terribly outmatched by his many knights and guards.

You waited patiently in Messmer’s chamber for him to return victorious, just as he had done a multitude of times before. Fiddling with your hands, you tried to drown out the screams and thudding from the room adjacent to Messmer’s, but your thoughts did little to distract you. Your mind wandered, as it always did in these moments: would he come back from this fight?

You shook your head. Of course he would. He was a mighty demigod with more than his mother’s wishes to fight for now. He had you. It was something he whispered into your hair when you lay huddled against his massive form in his bed. You were drifting on the very edge of sleep when his voice, silky and smooth, cut through the silence.

“I will return to thee, beloved consort. This I shall promise.”

Your heart had flipped in your chest. You knew he meant it and he never went back on his word.

The large door creaking open interrupted the sweet memory. Pushing yourself off the bed, you stepped timidly until Messmer came into view.

Blood adorned his chest like rubies and his eye was glued to the floor. He had left his spear in the previous room.

You hurry towards him. “Are you hurt?” You grab his hands and clutch them tightly.

“Merely scratched and covered in blood that is not my own.” He sounds tired.

Carefully, you lead him over to his ornate washroom. He doesn’t say anything as you pull him behind you like dead weight. Even his serpents stay still as they’re perched on his shoulders. Dropping his hands, you hurry to grab some bath salts he likes and a fluffy towel. You turn the faucet and the tub begins to fill with warm water. Pouring some of the salts in and swirling them around, the room begins to smell sweetly of jasmine and vanilla. 

Looking back at your lover, you notice that he watches you tiredly. His eye droops and he doesn’t stand as tall as usual.

“Do you need help taking your armor off?” He merely nods in response, so you get to work.

You stretch your arms up to take off his helmet and he bows his head. You set it on the table behind you and comb your fingers through some of the rebellious strands of red. Carefully raising the cloak he wears, you allow the serpents to wiggle out of it before undoing the clasp and letting it fall to the floor behind him. Moving around him, you work on the various buckles on his armor and before long, it joins his cloak in a bloody, crumpled heap. 

“Come, my love,” you call out to him and his eye shimmers in response. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

You take his hand and gently guide him into the bath, letting him go as slowly as he needs to. Once he settles into the warm water, he lets out a sigh of relief. You tilt his head back and pour water over his hair, just as you have done many times before. It’s become a daily thing to wash his hair and body. He loves the tenderness in every touch you lay upon him.

You begin to massage some of his favorite shampoo into his fiery locks. You take your time ensuring his scalp has been thoroughly washed and thread your fingers through the tips of his hair. He shudders and shivers in pleasure. 

You want to ask what’s wrong. He’s come back from fights exhausted and worried, but he’s never looked so dejected. Perhaps the fight was too close for his liking? When you took off his armor minutes earlier, you hadn’t seen any new bruises or wounds on his body, so that couldn’t be it. The Tarnished that came to his Keep enraged him, sure, especially if they had hurt any of his men, but they had never made him like this.

“Messmer?” His eye opens slightly. “What’s bothering you?”

“Whatever dost thou mean?” His voice is dejected and quiet.

“Did something happen during your fight?” You tilt his head back and wash the shampoo from his hair.

“‘Tis nothing. Thou needn’t worry.”

You sigh. “I thought we talked about this, about being open with each other. If something is bothering you, I want to help.”

He reaches for your hand and you gladly give it to him. He turns it over in his hand, seemingly marveling at how small yours is compared to his. He kisses your knuckles and moves your hand so you cup his cheek.

“That Tarnished held the belief that I was keeping thee prisoner here.” 

Your mouth hangs open. “Prisoner? My love, no! I’m happy here.”

“They did not thinkest so. Perhaps they imagined themself a protector, like I.”

“Messmer,” you make him look at you. “I stay here because I want to. I stay here because I love you. Okay?”

“I had never felt rage such as that. I lost myself.” He admits.

“I’d be angry too. It’s okay.”

He lets out a shuddering breath and a golden tear streaks its way down his pale cheek. You reach out to brush it away.

“I do not deserve thee, beloved. I am naught but a cursed monster.”

“You are so much more than that. I don’t care if you’re cursed.” You pull away from him and pour a generous amount of conditioner into your hands. You gently apply it to his hair. 

“You make me truly happy. I hope you know that.” You whisper those words into his ear.

“I shall try to remember that.”

You wash away the conditioner and wrap your arms around his shoulders, not caring about how the water soaks through your clothes. He grabs one of your hands and holds it. You lay a light kiss on his neck and he shudders again.

“Do you want me to wash your body, my love?” You ask into his hair.

“Please.”

“Okay.” You smile and unwind yourself from him.

You gather some soap and begin to lather it on his shoulders. You take your time and even knead out some of the knots in his back as you go. He lets out small gasps and you can see that his ears are a bright red almost rivaling his hair. You raise his arms from the water and squeeze his arms, feeling his muscles. He shoots you a look and you quickly look away, continuing to wash him as he requested. You tilt his head back, sweetly sweeping your hands across his neck and travel down to his collarbones, giving them the same treatment as the rest of his body.

“I ask thee stop this teasing.” His eye is screwed shut.

“Oh shush. You like this.”

“Perhaps.” You smirk.

Continuing down his body, you lather his chest in soap and delicately make your way to his stomach. He visibly tenses at this and you shoot him a puzzled look.

“Thou’rt cruel indeed. Continuing may force my hand.” He warns you, his eye shimmering a bright gold.

Oh. Oh.

As much as you would love to indulge in him, right now he needs comfort. You nod, face blushing as red as his, and you begin to wash away any remaining bubbles kissing his skin. Grabbing a fluffy towel, you wordlessly hand it to him and he stands. You tear your gaze away from him as he dries off and try to keep your thoughts decent. You go fetch his favorite robe from his chambers and grab his brush from where it sits on his bedside table. 

When you return, he’s sitting on the plush chair in front of the large vanity he had made for you. You offer him his robe and turn around, waiting for him to dress himself. He clears his throat and you turn around.

“Would you let me do your hair tonight?”

“If it would make thee happy.”

“Always. I love taking care of you.” That earns you a loving smile.

You begin to brush away any tangles he has, but since you’ve been giving his hair regular maintenance, it’s become easier to manage. The bristles gently scratch against his scalp and he lets out a pleased hum. You have such a lovable demigod.

Once you’ve ensured his hair is soft and smooth, you part his hair down the middle. You can see him watching you in the mirror. 

“I think you would look stunning in braids.”

He shakes his head. “Braids are intended for nobility and those with honor.”

“You’re a demigod, my love.”

He opens his mouth to say something but he stops when he sees you standing behind him with your hands on your hips, daring him to refuse you. “There is no sense in arguing with thee, it seems.”

“You are correct.” He rolls his eye. You were so stubborn.

Staring on the left side, you take three small strands and delicately weave them together. His hair is easy to work with and within a few minutes, you have a tiny braid.

You hold out your finished work. “Hold this, please.” He does as you ask, and you almost chuckle at the sight of him concentrating on keeping it pinched between his fingers.

Moving to the right side, you do the exact same thing. Strands of red dance in and out and soon, you have another braid. You admire your work.

You take the first braid from him with a small thank you and carefully lay them down on his head, making them join at the ends. It creates an oval-like shape and emits an air of importance. You grab a small hand-held mirror from the table in front of him and give it to him. He stands and faces away from the vanity, repositioning the tiny mirror so he could see the beautiful, yet simple, job you did. He eye crinkles and he seems to like it.

“Thou hast done a wonderful job. I thank thee, beloved.” 

You take the small mirror from him and return it to the vanity table. You gesture for him to sit, which he does without protest.

“Your serpents deserve braids too.” He chuckles and his companions look at you with wide eyes.

You open the drawer of the vanity and pull out two tiny braids made from some fabric. You had been practicing with these so your braids would look perfect.

The serpents come closer and you gently lay the strand of fabric on them. They shake a little at first, then flick their tongues excitedly.

“I think they look handsome, don’t you think, Messmer?”

He throws his head back and laughs. “They look quite ridiculous.” The serpents hiss.

You gently pat them both and they nuzzle into your touch. “Don’t listen to him. You both look wonderful.”

In truth, they did look a little silly, but they seemed proud to wear braids like their master.

“Thou always tends to my ailing soul, beloved.” He kisses the top of your head.

“Proud to serve, my Lord.” He rolls his eye at the use of his title.

He scoops your hands up in his and gazes into your eyes tenderly. “I shall say it now for fear that thou dost not realize: thou art free. Wherever thy soul wishes to roam, thou mayest go. I only request that thou returnest to me safe.”

You shake your head. This man. You lean up on your tiptoes and he bridges the gap, placing a loving kiss on your lips. There is no rush, no fight for dominance, just the both of you existing in the same space. Your hearts swell in admiration for one another.

There is nowhere else you’d rather be.

[rafeskai]

Life as We Know It — Rafe Cameron

Chapter Seven

Two opposites must navigate love, loss, and unexpected parenthood to discover the meaning of family.

Summary: When tragedy strikes, two very different individuals find their lives unexpectedly intertwined as they become the guardians of an orphaned child. As they navigate the challenges of co-parenting, balancing careers, and confronting their pasts, they discover that family can form in the most surprising ways. Through heartfelt moments and unexpected humor, they explore what it means to build a life together—one step at a time.

Pairings: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Character deaths & angst.

Author's Notes: I'm gonna post the epilogue and bonus scenes after this! Get ready!

Masterlist: Here

The next few weeks passed in a blur of routine. A new normal, one that felt both comforting and overwhelming in equal measure, began to take shape. You and Rafe had settled into a rhythm of sorts, with Willa at the center of it all. The house, once filled with tension and unspoken words, now carried the sound of laughter—her little giggles as she played with toys, the rhythmic hum of Rafe humming softly as he prepared dinner, and your voice singing along to a song just to get her to smile.

It was a strange blend of happiness and grief.

On the surface, everything appeared to be falling into place. Willa was thriving. Her laughter was more frequent, and the little spark of her personality was shining through with each passing day. But underneath it all, there was still the ache. The absence of Sarah and John B. lingered in every room, in every corner, like an uninvited guest. It was most noticeable in the quiet moments—the stillness that would creep in after dinner, when the house would settle, and Willa was fast asleep in her crib.

At night, Rafe and you would sit together in the living room, the empty space between you both palpable. Sometimes, you would talk, but it was often just the sound of the TV or the quiet clinking of wine glasses as you both tried to make sense of everything. Both of you, in your own way, were learning how to process the grief of losing Sarah and John B. while simultaneously trying to be the parents Willa needed.

There was no guidebook for this, no rulebook that could teach you how to grieve for your best friend while being there for her child, no instructions on how to love a child who wasn’t yours by blood but had stolen your heart all the same.

It was on one of those quiet evenings that the realization hit. You had just put Willa to bed, tucking her into her crib while Rafe stood in the doorway, his expression unreadable.

“You ever think about them?” Rafe asked quietly as you turned to face him.

You leaned against the doorframe, crossing your arms, eyes staring off toward the window. “All the time. It doesn’t really feel real yet, you know? Like… they’re just gone. I still expect to get a text from Sarah telling me to pick up dinner, or John B. calling to complain about something. But none of that’s happening. It’s like I’m stuck in this weird in-between place.”

Rafe nodded slowly, his gaze falling to the floor. “Yeah. It’s the same for me. Every time I go into town, I expect to see John B. standing at the docks or Sarah laughing somewhere. But they’re not there. I keep thinking I’ll see them, and then… I don’t.”

There was a heaviness in his words, a weight that neither of you had truly acknowledged out loud.

Rafe’s eyes met yours, a flicker of something unspoken in them. But before either of you could say more, there was a loud creak from the hallway—the unmistakable sound of Willa’s little feet padding across the floor. The distraction was enough to pull both of you out of your heads.

“She’s up again,” you muttered, half-smiling. You started to make your way toward her room, but Rafe stopped you with a hand on your shoulder.

“I’ll get her,” he said softly, almost as if he were offering more than just the simple task of comforting her.

You nodded, stepping aside to let him go. Watching him take the lead with Willa felt like a breath of fresh air. He was natural with her—careful, gentle, even though you knew the weight of everything still hung on him, just as it did on you.

The next few weeks continued in much the same way. Days blurred together as the three of you navigated the waters of parenthood. You did your best to keep your emotions in check, but at times, you found yourself breaking down when you were alone—alone with your thoughts of Sarah, John B., and what they would have wanted for their daughter.

You saw it too in Rafe. There were days when he would retreat into himself, the weight of his father’s abuse, the responsibility of being a father figure for Willa, and the grief of losing his sister bearing down on him all at once. He was more distant some days, lost in his own head, and it was hard to reach him. On those days, you couldn’t help but feel the distance between you widening.

But then, on other days, he would open up a little more. You would catch him smiling at Willa in a way that made your chest tighten, and you would catch a fleeting look between the two of you—something deeper, something undeniable, but neither of you was ready to face it.

It was during one of these quiet evenings, a few weeks after the ruling in court, when you and Rafe found yourselves alone in the living room again. The weight of your grief still lingered, but now, it was different. You were both becoming accustomed to the rhythm of your new life, even if it was hard. Willa was playing in the corner, and Rafe was scrolling through his phone, but the silence between you was now loaded with something you both refused to acknowledge.

You leaned back against the couch, watching Willa, when Rafe suddenly spoke. “I don’t know what I’m doing half the time,” he admitted, his voice low. “I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t ask to be her father figure… but I’m trying. I don’t want to mess this up.”

You turned to face him, surprised by the vulnerability in his voice. “You’re doing fine, Rafe. Better than fine. You’re all she has right now.”

He exhaled deeply, looking at you for a moment. “Yeah, but I can’t keep pretending like I don’t see you. I can’t keep pretending like I don’t feel something more than just… this.”

The words hit you like a thunderbolt. Your heart skipped a beat, and before you could form a response, Rafe stood up abruptly, running a hand through his hair. “This isn’t right. You’re grieving, I’m grieving, and we’ve got Willa to think about. This—this thing between us, it’s just too complicated.”

You stared at him, your throat tightening. “Rafe…” you whispered, not knowing what to say next. You did feel it. That pull. That undeniable connection that had been building between you both for weeks. But was it the right time? Was it right, when everything was still so raw?

“I don’t know what to do with it either,” he muttered. “But we can’t keep ignoring it. I don’t know if I’m ready for this, for us... for her.”

And so, there you were—on the cusp of something new, yet still trapped in the grip of grief. Neither of you ready to face the truth of what was brewing between you. But one thing was certain: something had changed, and no matter how hard you both tried to deny it, the feeling was becoming impossible to ignore.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The morning came too soon, dragging with it the weight of yesterday’s unspoken words. The quiet tension that had settled between you and Rafe the night before lingered, thickening the air in a way that made it hard to breathe. You barely slept, tossing and turning, your mind racing through the things you didn’t say, the things Rafe didn’t say. Everything was so… messy.

You were standing at the kitchen counter, preparing breakfast for Willa, trying to get into the rhythm of your routine, but your thoughts kept drifting to him. To what he had said. To what you felt in your chest.

Rafe walked into the kitchen, his eyes heavy, hair unkempt. It was clear he hadn’t slept much either, his posture stiff, like he was walking on eggshells. You exchanged a quick glance, and for a split second, you both seemed to be holding your breath, unsure of where to go from here.

“I’ll make coffee,” Rafe muttered, moving to the counter to prepare the pot, his back to you.

You nodded quietly, not sure if you should say something, if he even wanted you to. The silence between you both was so thick now, every word felt loaded. The air smelled of coffee brewing, the soft hum of the kettle, and the soft sound of Willa’s babbling from the living room. But it all felt so distant.

“You okay?” Rafe’s voice broke through your thoughts, quieter than usual.

You turned to face him, studying his expression. His usual walls were up again, that guarded look in his eyes that he wore so often when he was trying to hide something from the world. It made your chest ache, seeing him like this.

“I should be asking you that,” you said, trying to keep your tone light, but it came out softer than you intended. “You didn’t sleep either, huh?”

He glanced at you over his shoulder, giving you a tight smile. “No, not really.”

The silence returned, but this time, it felt a little more fragile, like something was about to break. You could feel the weight of the words hanging between you both, words that neither of you was ready to say aloud.

Willa’s giggle interrupted the quiet tension, and both of you turned at the sound. The sight of her, laughing and playing with her toys, was a small relief, a distraction from the heaviness that had crept in. But even as you watched her, something in your chest ached.

You cleared your throat, forcing your mind back into the present. “I should get Willa dressed, get her breakfast ready.”

Rafe nodded. “Yeah, I’ll take care of the coffee. You know she likes it when I make her pancakes.”

You smiled, a small, genuine smile that felt foreign after the events of the night before. “You’re spoiling her.”

Rafe’s lips curled into a smirk, his usual cocky edge slipping back into place. “Hey, she deserves it.”

There was a brief moment of normalcy—small talk, familiar routines—but it wasn’t the same. The dynamic between you both had shifted, and you weren’t sure how to navigate it.

You went to Willa’s room, finding her still in her pajamas, her little hands reaching for the toys scattered across the floor. You scooped her up, settling her in your arms as you began to change her, the soothing rhythm of dressing her bringing a sense of comfort amidst the storm inside your mind.

As you worked, your thoughts drifted again, back to the conversation with Rafe. What were you both doing? You had spent so much time trying to keep the lines clear between friendship and responsibility, but now those lines were blurry, tangled up in grief, responsibility, and something more. Something neither of you was ready to face.

When you returned to the kitchen with Willa, Rafe was already plating pancakes. Willa squealed, reaching for the stack with tiny hands, and Rafe chuckled softly, placing a plate in front of her. The warmth between the two of them was undeniable. It was moments like this that made everything worth it, didn’t it?

But still, that thing between you and Rafe hung in the air, like a thread waiting to unravel.

You sat down at the table, pushing your plate aside as Willa dug into her breakfast, messy syrup smudging her cheeks. Rafe joined you at the table, not looking at you directly, but you could feel his presence next to you, the space between you both full of the things left unsaid.

The silence was comfortable for now, but you knew it wouldn’t stay that way for long.

“Do you ever think about Sarah and John B., like, what they would want for her?” you asked, the question slipping out before you could stop it. It felt like the right thing to say, like an opening to talk about the things neither of you were saying.

Rafe’s shoulders tensed for a moment, but he didn’t look away from Willa, watching her eat with intense focus. “Yeah,” he replied, his voice a little rough. “All the time. I think they’d be happy with how things are going. They’d be happy she’s with us.”

“I hope so,” you said quietly, your voice trailing off as you stared at Willa, wondering if she could ever really understand what had happened. What had been lost.

You cleared your throat, trying to change the subject. “I need to get to the store later. Willa’s almost out of diapers.”

Rafe nodded. “I can go with you. It’ll give us a chance to—well, you know, get out of the house for a bit. Take a break.”

You were about to respond when Willa’s giggle interrupted once again, drawing both your attention. She had managed to squirt syrup all over the table in her attempt to scoop up the pancake, making a mess. It was impossible not to laugh, and you both found yourselves chuckling together, momentarily breaking through the tension that had built up.

But even as you laughed, the realization hit you like a weight.

This was your new life now. The uncertainty, the grief, the joy, the overwhelming responsibility. And somewhere deep inside, you knew that things had changed—maybe forever. The question was, what would you both do with it?

You looked at Rafe again, at the small smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he cleaned up the mess Willa had made, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you weren’t quite so afraid of what would come next. You couldn’t ignore it forever, the pull between you both.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The sun hung high in the sky, casting a warm glow over the streets as you and Rafe walked side by side into the local grocery store. Willa, snug in her stroller, was contentedly gnawing on a teething ring, oblivious to the undercurrent of tension between you and Rafe. The quiet hum of the air conditioning and the sound of shoppers milling around filled the otherwise tense silence.

You grabbed a basket, but as soon as you looked down, you realized you were already second-guessing the list in your head. Diapers. Milk. Fruit for smoothies. Frozen vegetables. Simple things. Yet your mind was so distracted that you had to pause for a second, mentally organizing what you needed.

Rafe pushed the stroller ahead, his hands gripping the handles firmly, his posture stiff, like he was trying to avoid looking at you too directly. You could feel the weight of the unspoken words between you both, like a heavy fog that neither of you had the courage to clear.

“Anything else we need?” Rafe’s voice broke through the quiet, a little sharper than usual.

You glanced at him, noting the way he was trying so hard to keep it together. You couldn’t blame him. The last few days had been full of emotional roller coasters, and now here you were, trying to navigate the mundane task of grocery shopping like everything was normal when everything wasn’t.

“I think that’s it,” you answered, trying to keep your tone light. “Unless you want anything special?”

Rafe shook his head. “No. Let’s just get through this and get back to the house.”

His words were clipped, and you bit back the urge to comment on his attitude. It had been like this for days now: distant, cold, like he was closing off any room for vulnerability. You wanted to reach out to him, to break through the wall he was building, but you didn’t know how.

You moved through the aisles, grabbing items on the list, each movement mechanical. The only sound between you was the soft rolling of the stroller as you passed the rows of canned goods and produce. Every now and then, you’d glance over at Rafe, trying to gauge his mood, but he kept his eyes ahead, focused on nothing in particular.

“Willa’s starting to get fussy,” you said after a few minutes, noticing her starting to squirm in the stroller.

Rafe nodded absently. “Yeah. Let’s get the last few things and head out.”

You grabbed the milk and some frozen meals, trying to focus on the task at hand. But every time you looked at Rafe, your chest tightened. It was so hard, pretending like nothing had changed between you. Pretending that everything was just as it had been. But the kiss... and everything that had followed after... it had changed something.

Before you could say anything else, Willa started fussing more, her soft cries filling the store. You turned to Rafe, a little frantic.

“I think she’s hungry.”

Rafe froze for a moment, then looked down at Willa, his face softening just slightly. He reached down, adjusting the straps on the stroller to give her a bit more space. “Alright, we can stop at the café on the way back. Get her something.”

You both moved toward the checkout lanes, the silence stretching on, but there was something different in Rafe’s eyes now. A flicker of softness, a crack in the wall he’d built. You tried not to notice, but it was hard to ignore.

Willa continued to fuss as they packed the groceries into bags. Rafe had that look again, like he was still processing something, but he didn’t say anything.

As you approached the counter, the cashier gave you a kind smile, scanning your items without a second thought. It was a stark contrast to the tension in your chest, but you forced a smile back, nodding at her as she packed up the last of your things.

Once the transaction was complete, Rafe took the bags without hesitation, moving toward the door. You followed behind, your mind a jumble of confusion and frustration. When you reached the car, you both stood for a moment, the groceries in the trunk, but no one moving.

You stood beside Rafe, looking down at your shoes, unsure of what to say next. The air between you felt charged, heavy with all the things you hadn’t said, the things you couldn’t say.

“You know,” Rafe started, breaking the silence, his voice quieter than before. “I don’t know how to... how to fix all this.”

You looked up at him, surprised.

“Fix what?” you asked, your voice small.

He ran a hand through his hair, sighing deeply. “Everything. I don’t know how to make this work. Us. This whole... situation.”

You stood there, the weight of his words sinking in, and for the first time in what felt like weeks, you finally said something that felt honest, raw.

“I don’t either,” you admitted, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “But I don’t want to make things harder for you. Or Willa.”

Rafe met your eyes then, and for a moment, there was something in his gaze—something soft, almost vulnerable. “I know you’re doing your best. I know you’re here for her. For both of us.”

Your heart skipped at the sincerity in his voice, but it was quickly followed by a wave of confusion. Because part of you wanted to reach out, to tell him how you really felt, but you couldn’t shake the fear of what that might do to everything you had worked for. What it might do to Willa.

“I don’t want to mess this up, Rafe,” you whispered, looking at Willa, who was now calm and sucking on her pacifier in the backseat. “I don’t want to mess her up.”

He was quiet for a moment before he exhaled a slow breath. “I don’t think we will. We’ll figure it out... together.”

It wasn’t a promise, but it was enough. For now.

You both climbed into the car, driving back to the house in a silence that was more comfortable than before. 

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The house was quiet, save for the soft hum of the air conditioner and the occasional creak of the floorboards as you moved around the kitchen. Willa was napping peacefully, her little body curled up in the bassinet, oblivious to the tension that had been hanging in the air between you and Rafe.

You had just returned from the grocery store, and as you set the bags on the kitchen counter, you noticed Rafe standing in the doorway, watching you. His eyes were unreadable, but there was something different about the way he was looking at you—less guarded, more open.

“You need help with those?” Rafe asked, his voice quiet but steady.

You glanced up at him, surprised by his offer. Normally, he'd keep to himself, sticking to his routine without offering much assistance, but something had shifted. You nodded, handing him a couple of bags.

Together, you unloaded the groceries in silence, the rhythmic sound of cans and boxes hitting the counter the only noise between you. You both moved in tandem, a comfortable choreography born from living together for the past few months. But despite the ease of the task, the air felt thick with something unspoken.

Finally, Rafe broke the silence.

“You know,” he began, his voice hesitant but firm, “On the drive back, I’ve been thinking a lot about... everything. About us.”

You paused mid-task, glancing over at him. Your heart skipped a beat as you watched him struggle with the words, as though each one weighed a thousand pounds.

“I don’t want to make this harder than it already is,” he said, his voice low. “I know we’ve both got baggage... and... I’m not exactly the best at this whole thing. But I... I want to try, [Y/N]. I want to try with you. With this... with us.”

You froze, your hands stilling as you processed his words. The intensity in his gaze made your stomach flip, and for a moment, all you could hear was the beat of your own heart.

“I... don’t know what to say,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Rafe took a step closer, his presence commanding but not overwhelming. “I’m saying that I want something more. Something real. I don’t want to keep running from it. From this.”

You could feel the raw sincerity in his words, the vulnerability he rarely showed. It made your chest tighten, and for a moment, you wanted to reach out to him, to pull him closer. But the fear of what this could mean—what it could change—held you back.

“You don’t have to say anything right now,” Rafe added quickly, as if he was afraid of pushing you too hard. “But I need you to know that I’m not gonna mess it up. Not this time. I’ve made plenty of mistakes, but I’m trying. I’m trying with you, with Willa... with everything.”

You swallowed hard, the weight of his words settling deep within you. Part of you wanted to argue, to tell him that it wasn’t that simple—that you couldn’t just forget the past. But another part of you was listening to him, seeing the sincerity in his eyes. And maybe, just maybe, it was enough to believe him.

“I’m scared, Rafe,” you admitted, your voice shaky. “I’m scared of what this could mean. What if we mess it all up? What if—”

He cut you off, taking a step forward, his hand gently resting on your arm. “We won’t,” he said firmly. “We’ll take it slow. Together.”

For the first time in a long while, you felt the weight of your fears lighten, just a little. You looked at him, really looked at him—at the man who had been so closed off, the man who had fought to protect Willa, the man who had shown you a side of him you hadn’t known existed.

“I don’t want to be scared anymore,” you whispered, your hand reaching out to brush against his. “I don’t want to keep pretending that this doesn’t feel right.”

Rafe’s eyes softened, and he took your hand, his grip firm but gentle. “Then don’t,” he murmured. “Let’s stop pretending.”

You leaned into him, your heart racing as you closed the distance between you. The tension that had plagued the air for weeks finally began to dissipate, replaced by something warm and real.

“I’m here, [Y/N],” Rafe said softly, his breath warm against your forehead as he pressed a kiss there, tender and full of meaning. “I’m not going anywhere.”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The kiss had started slow, tender, a quiet acknowledgment of everything you had both been holding back for so long. The kind of kiss that said more than words ever could. Rafe’s hand cupped your face, the warmth of his touch grounding you as you let go of all the fears and doubts that had kept you from this moment.

You kissed him back, more fiercely now, your body moving closer to his, as if you could erase all the distance that had once been between you. The connection between you was undeniable, electric, and suddenly the weight of everything else seemed to disappear—just for a moment, just for this time.

Rafe’s hands slid down your back, pulling you closer, and you let him, feeling the heat building between you. It felt natural, like it was always meant to be like this. And then, in a blur of desire and need, you were in his arms, his lips trailing along your neck as your hands tugged at his shirt, pulling him closer still.

But before you could lose yourself in the moment, a small, sudden cry from the other room sliced through the air, sharp and unrelenting.

“Willa...” you breathed, a pang of guilt washing over you as you pulled away from Rafe.

He froze too, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his expression conflicted as he glanced toward the door. “She... she’s probably just waking up,” he muttered, though the uncertainty in his voice was unmistakable.

Another cry, louder this time. It was followed by the sound of small hands hitting the sides of the bassinet, desperate and frantic. You both exchanged a brief look, the desire lingering in the space between you, but reality had already set in.

Rafe cursed softly under his breath and stood up, grabbing the hem of his shirt and pulling it over his head in one swift motion. You quickly followed, adjusting yourself and standing as well, feeling the absence of him already, though you couldn’t ignore the ache in your chest.

“I’ll get her,” you said, your voice still breathless from the intensity of the moment. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as you made your way to the nursery.

Rafe hesitated for just a moment, as if unsure of what to do, but then followed you. When you reached Willa’s room, she was indeed wide awake, her little face scrunched up in distress, her tiny hands reaching out for comfort.

“Hey, hey, Willa, it’s okay,” you cooed softly, lifting her from the bassinet and cradling her against your chest. “You’re alright, sweet girl. I’m here.”

Rafe lingered in the doorway, his gaze lingering on the two of you, and for a moment, it felt like everything was right. The warmth of the love you shared for Willa seemed to wrap around all three of you. But even in the quiet moments like this, the pull between you and Rafe was undeniable. The intimacy that had just been interrupted now hung heavily in the air, unanswered, unfinished.

“I think she’s just hungry,” you murmured, bouncing her lightly in your arms as you moved toward the small kitchen area. “I’ll feed her.”

Rafe nodded, his eyes still on you, though now there was a softness there. The tension between you had melted, but it hadn’t disappeared. It lingered, a silent promise between you both that things were about to change.

He walked up to you and gently brushed a stray lock of hair behind your ear, his touch tender. “We’ll get back to that,” he said quietly, a playful yet earnest glint in his eyes.

You smiled, your heart racing in your chest, both from the emotions swirling inside you and the overwhelming sense of longing for more. You hadn’t expected any of this—hadn’t expected things to escalate so quickly, or for the intensity of your feelings to come flooding to the surface. But it felt right. In that moment, you knew it was just the beginning of something deeper.

“We will,” you promised, gazing at him with more certainty than you had in a long time.

And as Willa nursed in your arms, her cries now subsided into soft, contented suckles, you both stood together—quiet, connected, yet aware of the complicated path you still had ahead. But for now, it didn’t matter. In that fleeting moment, it was just the three of you.

© 2024 rafeskai | All rights reserved. This fanfiction is a work of fiction inspired by characters from Outer Banks, and no part of it may be reproduced or distributed without permission.