GUINEA PIG

GUINEA PIG ───

jonathan crane ✧𖦹

ೃ⁀➷ “I think we most fully understood each other when once I tried to kill him with a kitchen knife.” — ‘South and West’, Joan Didion

pairing. switch!jonathan crane x professor!reader

summary. you and your dear friend, jonathan crane, have an odd relationship: he experiments on you, you experiment on him. one day, you experiment your aphrodisiac on him.

warnings. swearing, use of aphrodisiac & fear toxin, oral sex (m), unprotected sex, creampie, p in v, mention of death, murder, drugs, multiple orgasms, slight breeding kink, face fucking, dubcon(?) SMUT UNDER THE CUT!

word count. 6.1k

a/n. the enemies to friends to fucking pipeline is sooo real and i love it. BTW! this is really self indulgent and again, i’m a beginner to writing smut so pls don’t judge😭 the beginning is also oddly plotty, so i apologize for that.

You and your colleague, Jonathan Crane, have a harmonious, albeit slightly sick and twisted, relationship. 

Your repertoires, opposite in every way, complete one another like you were made to match. You are messy, frenzied, intimate; he is neat, calculated, distant. He is impatient, histrionic, stubborn. You are tolerant, deadpan, submissive. 

This is an odd, good-cop bad-cop dynamic you’ve built, but it works. Your traits uphold the order you’ve built around yourselves; you allow each other to function. 

Who ever said something so codependent, so parasitic, would fall apart? That it was dangerous, destructive? Everyone, but in your case, it has been anything but. 

These are the simple rules of your relationship: he experiments on you, you experiment on him. This partnership came to bloom when, after years of competing to be the “better” psychology professor at Gotham University, he sent you a gift that sprayed with you with fear toxin, and you baked him a cake that knocked him out for 24 hours following, heart rate so low he could’ve been mistaken as dead. 

“Fucking - hell,” You murmured under your breath, stumbling halfway across Gotham City to locate Crane’s absurdly lavish condo in the Diamond District, barely able to keep yourself upright. 

You were being visually assaulted by dozens of images, all your phobias no matter big or small, dancing across your senses. Spiders crawled all over your body, you saw yourself about to step off a steep, snowy cliff, you felt yourself suffocate as you were buried to death in a casket. It was utter torture, and you would have to endure it until you found Crane. 

You must’ve looked like one of those tweaking drug addicts from down in the Narrows, shivering, sweating, and rubbing all over your body to remove some of the “spiders” taking over your body. The terror was settling into you, into your spine like a terribly malignant disease. 

At last, you found the apartment building, blearily snuck in behind a drunk couple, and scanned the mail boxes until you found J. CRANE: 525. 

You headed up the elevator, grasping at the walls for dear life, feeling that growing, unmistakable sense of dread start to take over your mind. You felt like you were going mad, now, not just afflicted with something that made you look like it. 

When you finally got to his door, it was left open a crack, and you welcomed the small mercy of Crane’s overarching narcissism: he didn’t lock his door, often, because most days he felt more invincible than fucking god. 

“Crane!” You shouted, clutching at your head and staggering into his large apartment. “Crane!” you repeated, this time more desperate, more fearful than anything. 

However, your deepest fear, at the moment, had come true. You stepped into his kitchen, and found the man laying on the floor unresponsive. 

“Fuck me,” you cursed. You’d sent the man home with the cake twelve hours ago, when he took the half-day off from GSU, and you came home from your after-class tutoring hours just moments ago. 

You’d opened the mystery package on your front porch promptly, and you found yourself having been gassed with a compound that made you see every little thing you were afraid of. Immediately, you’d known it was Crane; the man’s pet specialty was fear. 

As for you, you wanted your… gift, to serve a reminder to him that he should not overstep your boundaries, your territory, as the psychology professor who was there first. If knocking him out was a little bit mad, he was bordering insanity for the toxin he poisoned you with. 

Even so, your threat was an empty one. You weren’t counting on the man to even eat the cake - hell, you’d never seen the man consume anything but straight black coffee. 

You couldn’t judge a book by its cover, you know now, and laid there on the couch of his apartment, waiting for the twelve hours to be over. Waiting for Crane, the fucking madman, to wake the hell up, blaming him for the predicament despite your very obvious involvement in it.

You breathed in and out, harried and rapid fire as you tried to focus, tried to block out the horrific things you were seeing, hearing, smelling, tasting. 

(Your eyes are swarmed, viscerally, by a grotesque hallucination of your family burning to death; you hear them cry out, voices interrupted when they’re fire gets to their lungs; you smell their death, the smell of flesh burning, how the smoke chokes you — you taste their blood on your tongue, how tender a raging fire makes charred flesh. 

Tender, you think on your choice of words again, and almost throw up.

What have you done, you think, and what is going through that fucked up head of yours, Crane?)

You tried to ground yourself, tether your lost mind back to Earth. You’re sitting in a field in Northwestern Ireland, you said to yourself, inhaling. Up ahead is the beach; water is crashing on the rocks. You exhaled, the wind tastes like salt, and it is just you and I, here together. It is only I and you, here, together. 

Like so, 12 hours passed. Not so much passed — that word gave the connotation the hours slipped past you, the way a peaceful stream of water does; no, more accurately, it dragged by, like when an arm slips out of the ambulance cot on its way to the emergency vehicle, and drags on the concrete. The EMT’s don’t notice what’s making their trip so hard, so slow, until the hand is rubbed raw and bloody. 

You repeated that mantra so many times you were starting to get queasy when you thought the words “you’re sitting in a field..” but nonetheless, the string of words kept you sane. 

Sane enough, at least - you weren’t sure you’d be the same blissful person you were yesterday. Sure, you were always a little bit… unorthodox? Petty? Competitive enough to bake so many drugs into a cake your opposing professor knocks out? 

But, with this — this being drugged by Crane — made you feel a piece of yourself break away. There would be no more of your life lived without knowing how fearful, well, fear, is. It's like discovering the Boogeyman and never being able to stop checking under your bed; the paranoia moves into your head and never leaves. 

Crane began stirring, and your eyes opened as soon as you heard the noise. Surprisingly enough, however, you were no longer being hammered with the hallucinations that had been distressing you just half a day ago. 

Had it been the mantra? The near-prayer you now swore was etched on your heart? 

“Fucking…” Crane said, getting up off the floor. He was clutching his head, eyes squinted, body hunched and tense. Looks like spending half a day on the floor wasn’t the most comfortable place to sleep, but you didn’t give a fuck — atleast he was sleeping. If you had to be mentally destroyed by his toxin, you’d best believe you were taking the couch. 

“Why - why are you here? What the hell did you do to me?” He said after noticing you, voice raspy. He hadn’t had anything to drink or eat in a while, after all. 

“I could say the fucking same for you,” You muttered, giving him a pointed look. “You - what the fuck did you spray me with?”

Immediately, a twisted grin was bared on Crane’s lips, despite his fatigued demeanor. “Did you like it? My fear-toxin,” he preened, like the winning kid at a school science fair.

You rolled your eyes, and before you could control your tendencies, you’d swung back and then socked him straight in the face. 

Crane double-backed, looking terribly affronted, as if he hadn’t sent you the gas knowing how it would affect you. “Ow,” is all he said, face contorting oddly around the pain. 

“Yeah, “ow”. Fuck you, Crane.”

Crane raised a brow. “You’re acting like you didn’t feed me a poisoned cake!” He said incredulously.

“It wasn’t that poisoned,” you bit out, teeth gritted. “Not so poisoned I was hallucinating my family dying for twelve hours straight.”

“Ah, thanatophobia, not really one of my favourites—“ Crane started, like he was losing himself in a romantic daydream, before snapping back to reality. “Did you just say twelve hours?”

“Twelve hours for me. Twenty-four for you.” You said, reveling in how panicked he looked. 

“I — that’s long enough for me to be killed a hundred times over,” he mumbled under his breath. “What the fuck did you put in that cake?”

“I never expected you to eat it, Crane. You’re fucking skin and bones, I thought you’d just throw it out.”

“What did you put in the cake?” he repeated. 

“Ugh,” you sunk into the couch, “some amytal, zolpidem. Some melatonin. I didn’t measure, okay, and again, I wasn’t counting on you eating it.” You didn’t know why you had this urging feeling to respond to him, to humor his jabs, his dumb fucking theatrics, but you did anyway. 

“Some amytal? Some zolpidem? Some melatonin? Jesus fucking christ - is that what you wanted? To kill me?” He was leaning down, face inches away from yours now. 

You pushed him away, disgust on your features clear as day. “Shut the fuck up. I’m not some sociopathic fear-freak like you, Crane. I don’t mix compounds in my creepy little office with the thought of drugging out my fellow professor in mind. It was just an empty threat.”

He let out a disbelieving laugh, “Mixing barbiturates and medications into a cake sounds like an empty threat to you?”

“You know what?” You said brightly, getting up off the couch, “I don’t have to argue with you. I came to get my cure, woke up having cured myself.” Then, you burst out the door, fury rolling off you in waves, and you left.

There was something about the incident, however, that seemed to intrigue Crane to no end. Soon enough, he began entering your office during your breaks, asking to have a chat. Or, he’d walk in during your lessons, forcing you two in the hall alone. Sometimes, he’d even wait for you after school, dozing off in front of your classroom and waiting for you to exit your office. 

You couldn’t tell what was making Crane so interested, but he was hanging off you and your every word like some lovesick puppy.

You, on the other hand, also couldn’t get Crane out of your head. Certainly not for some weird, fucked up reason like his, but because of what he had created. A lot of people doubted his intelligence, mostly because of his obsession on things nobody really cared about, but that obsession made way to the destructive fear-toxin you’d inhaled, and it was seriously unlike anything you’d ever experienced, hell, even read about. It was a brand new creation, and downright deadly. 

Your interest in the man was more so on… keeping him in check. As rivals did. But his was on how you’d breezed past the effects of his toxin in just twelve hours. He’s expected you to go half mad, honestly. Your threat was empty… his was, decidedly, not. 

By the end of the next week following the incident, you two began eating lunch together, asking for joint classes, and spending nights over at each other's places. Not in that way, of course — your way was like a group of scientists having a forever eureka, because your minds fit like perfect puzzle pieces. 

Your intrigue had met his intrigue, and it felt natural, coming to a united front like that. You found you had more in common than you thought, something you should’ve found out about a long time ago, 3 ½ years kind of long time ago. Apart, you two were volatile; angry, spewing threats, attempting murder on the other. Together, however, you were absolute perfection: productive, well-mannered, motivated. 

Now, fast-forward coming on two years since the incident. You and Crane - now, Jonathan, have been inseparable since that time. You two were close, closer than siblings or children and parents or couples; you felt like the same person that had been split into two. Being together was the only thing that felt right, being back at the origin, like being at home. 

Fuck’s sakes, you did have the same home — you’d moved in together. Not to his, nor yours, but to a big house you bought on the outskirts of Gotham, with a big yard and an even bigger lab in the basement. It was like a scientist's amusement park. 

Maybe it - this relationship of yours - was codependency. But maybe it was utter genius: your careers had both never seen so many accomplishments until you and Jonathan came together. Partly because you had a greater inspiration when coupled with the other, but, mostly because you had a body to test on during preliminary trials. 

Creating things, like the fear-toxin, required human testing, and finding a way to get that done always slowed Jonathan down. Since finding you, however, it’d been a breeze. 

You offered yourself up readily, given Jonathan would do the same. And, besides, Jonathan had never been worried about you and his toxin very much — after that first time you took the toxin, you could easily find yourself out of its effects. You were the only person he’d ever encountered who could do this, and it was downright fascinating. He wanted to keep you, see how that strong little mind of yours worked overtime to fight his toxin off. 

You, on the other hand, rarely tested anything like that on Jonathan. Your interests lied elsewhere: what smells activate the human mind to recall memories, what are ways to accurately fight off drugs like GHB — all mental stimulation. 

That, however, changed one evening, when you had been brewing up a serum for the past few weeks. You’d gotten to the point in creation where you needed to test on someone, and observe the effects. 

“Jonathan,” you called out, looking down at your notes. The man in question was grading assignments for the psychology class you taught — now, in joint lessons more often than not — sitting at a desk a few metres away from you in the lab. 

“Jonathan!” you repeated louder this time, looking up from your notes. 

“What?” He shouted back, still hunched over on the ungodly amount of assignments he needed to mark. 

“Come here. I need to test something on you.” You said, nonchalant. 

That, however, piqued Jonathan’s interest to no end: you hadn’t tested anything on him in nearly a year. It hurt, a little, to test you endlessly and have nothing to give in return - so this, no matter what it was, Jonathan would take in stride.

Jonathan nodded vehemently, “Okay.” He then dropped all he’d been doing on the desk and made his way over, before sitting in the chair next to you. You made quick work, tying his arms and legs to the chair like he’d done to you so many times before. He watched you work, completely enraptured in how you looked while experimenting. 

“So,” He said, tearing his sticky gaze off of you, “what’re you pumping me full of?”

You sat back in your desk chair and scratched your cheek, a little unsure how to say this. “Well, I created a serum that, once injected, would lower or lose all inhibitions of the victim. They’d be completely malleable, agreeable, if you just, um,” you fanned yourself, feeling a little too close to the man in front of you, room feeling incredibly warm.

“Just what?” He pried, leaning back in his chair. 

You exhaled shakily, “if you just promise to - to provide relief to them. Sexual - relief.”

Jonathan let out an incredulous laugh. “You made a working aphrodisiac?”

“I mean, I wouldn’t exactly — I don’t even know if it works, for sure. If you don’t want to- take it, then you don’t have to.” You offered up weakly. 

“How d’you get it out of the system?” He said instead, ignoring your words and picking up the needle you had ready for him on your worktable, which was filled with a thick, pink liquid. 

You flushed. “You, um, help the victim relieve themselves, until the feeling is gone.” 

Jonathan looked up at you, a sly smirk on his lips. “And you were going to give this to me?” 

You turned away, face red, exasperated. “I told you, you don’t have to take it if you don’t want to.”

“And let you pleasure some random guy you snatched off the street? No way,” he said, before you heard a familiar prick, small whine leaving Jonathan’s mouth.

You spun back around so fast you thought you got whiplash. “Jonathan, wait—“ you said, alarmed. You were really, seriously, considering not giving the aphrodisiac to him — it would disrupt the careful balance you and he had built over the past years. 

You were afraid that if he took the serum, and let you, for lack of a better word, get him off, you wouldn’t be able to look at him without remembering him needy, hot and bothered, calling your name out like it was the only word he knew. 

He’d done it anyway, though. And now, you both just had to get through this… experiment. 

Quickly, you grabbed your pen and notebook, ready to approach this scenario as detached and clinically as possible, ignoring the pulsing need in your insides as you saw Jonathan’s face slowly contort into a warm, heavy-lidded lustful one. 

“How do you feel, Jonathan?” You said, standing further away from him so he couldn’t so much as feel your body heat on him. 

“I…” Jonathan blinked rapidly, licking his lips, looking you up and down. “Warm. I just feel… warm.” He readjusted in the seat, unable to sit still. “And - kind of, tingly? Like I - well, I don’t know…”

You noted his words, as well as some of your own observations: his pupils were dilated, so much so the crystalline blue of his eyes were merely slivers, his lips were pursed, plump, and he was pink all over; pink cheeks, pink ears, pink neck. He was talkative, loose-lipped and a little out of it.

You inhaled, then exhaled, before starting the next phase of the experiment. “Jonathan, how do you feel when I touch you here?” You said, raising the back of your hand to caress his cheek. 

Jonathan was affected almost immediately, eyes shutting tight. “It feels,” he said breathily, leaning into your touch, “ah… nice. Good.”

You nodded, promptly pulling away as soon as he’d finished his sentence. Subject enjoys physical touch. Jonathan then peered up at you, looking slightly… disappointed? 

You shook yourself, getting back on task. “How do you feel now?” You pried, noticing he looked far more affected than before. 

Beads of sweat were dripping from his forehead, making his wavy brown hair stick to his skin. He was breathing heavily, and, when you had touched him, he was extremely warm, like he had a fever. 

“I’m, I…” Jonathan trailed off, eyes shutting, shaking his head. “Mmm… my head feels — fuzzy,” he bit out raspily. 

“Okay. Good. It's exactly as I thought,” you murmured, continuing to scratch down notes. 

You ignored him for a few minutes, writing up a list of side effects and observed results of the aphrodisiac. Then, your gaze drew back to him, who had been focussing intently on you the whole time. 

“Jonathan?” you called out quietly, seeing his dazed expression. “Talk to me.”

Jonathan shuddered, leaning forward in the chair, head hanging low, “My - my body’s, hnngh… it feels— feels weird.” He bit his lip, face screwed up and tense. “I’m warm all over…”

His shoulders were hunched in, and he was trembling. You lifted a hand up to his head, petting him softly, carding your fingers through his hair. 

“Ah…” Jonathan squeaked out at your touch, face going slack, “I feel like I need you to - to…” he sighed exasperatedly, “I need you.”

You chewed the inside of your cheek conflictedly. On one hand, you needed to finish up a few more tests, meaning Jonathan would be teased - or tortured, depending on how fast the aphrodisiac was affecting him - a little longer. On the other hand, he was already a breathy mess, begging for your touch. For you. 

“Fuck,” you murmured, turning away from the man who’s eyes were practically rolling into the back of his head at the way you tugged at his locks. “No, no,” you fought your internal struggle. You would not give in to his pleas - you would finish this experiment. 

“Okay. Okay.” you said to no-one but yourself, extracting your hand from his velvet soft hair. “Let’s be professional about this. Jonathan, I’m going to take your clothes off, but you can’t move, and you can’t touch me, okay?”

Jonathan’s breathing became more labored as you spoke, and you swore you could see desperate tears filling his eyes. “I can’t- I can’t touch you? But… but why not?” He was practically whining for you.

“Because, Jonathan, it wouldn’t be beneficial to the experiment.” You didn’t look your partner in the eye, because his complete and total change in behavior had you feeling, quite frankly, as warm as him. 

You continued by undoing the restraints on his arms and legs, and his sharp intakes of breath as your fingers brushed past his skin didn’t slip past you. Not at all. 

Firstly, you undid the man’s white button-up shirt slipping it past his flushed torso. Jonathan’s skin was actually pink and warm all over, and he was breathing heavily now, gripping the chair so tight his knuckles were white. 

“Are you okay, Jonathan?” you asked absently, as you began unbuckling his belt and slipping down his fly. 

Jonathan’s breath hitched in his throat, and he didn’t answer you, biting down on his lower lip to stop any desperate moans from escaping him. 

You finally finished undressing your partner, then redid his restraints, before you stepped back to see him fully. Jonathan was shivering, faint tear tracks on his pink cheeks, head cocked back. 

“It’s just - one, or two more tests, Jonathan.” You murmured quietly, kneeling down in front of him. 

Your hands pressed flat on his thighs, rubbing him up and down, grazing your fingers lightly on his feverish skin. You had to regularly ground yourself, stop yourself from inching up to the poor, untouched tent in his boxer shorts. 

Above you, you could hear Jonathan let out a low groan, “Ah, hnng— please,” he called out to no-one in particular.

“Does that - feel good, Jonathan?” You ask, getting back up on your feet. His desperate groans were getting to you now, how needy his little keens were. 

“So - good,” he panted. “Your— you, I want— need, I need…” he trailed off, babbling, lost to the pleasure of your touch. 

“Jonathan, if I… touched you more, would you do anything for me?” You said finally. The invention of the aphrodisiac was intended to sway someone's motivations, make them bend to your will. Sure, there was that added sexual aspect, but it was created with less… pleasurable intentions. 

“Anything, anything at all,” he said deliriously, rolling his head around. “Jus’… just need you to- touch me.”

“Would you give yourself fear-toxin, Jonathan?”

“Yes! Yes, just — please… please! Stop asking me— questions… I need you so fucking bad, ah…”

“Jesus,” you said. Your aphrodisiac was stronger than you thought. You were satisfied, however, with the results of it. The first trial was a success, and you saw how you could use this on anyone - even people in particular positions of power, and get them to do your bidding. Quite helpful, indeed. 

Now, you needed to… get Jonathan out of this state. By, ah, relieving him.

You had decided to do this, to test him, so you had to be responsible and help ease him out of this experiment. Quickly, you stripped your own clothing, even your underwear, before undoing the restraints on his arms and legs. 

Jonathan’s eyes widened as he watched you undress. “Are you - are you… gonna t—touch me? Now? Please?” He practically begged, almost drooling at the sight of your naked body. 

“Mhm,” you said, a tremble in your voice. “Gon’ help you get out of this.”

Then, you climbed onto Jonathan’s lap, shutting your eyes as you felt his hard cock within his boxer shorts slide between your legs deliciously. 

He let out a guttural groan as your weight pressed down on him, feeling your wetness soak his shorts. That measly piece of fabric was all that was keeping him from entering your plush, velvet folds, and he was going practically insane at the feeling. 

“M’god,” Jonathan whined out, leaning his sweaty head on your shoulder. “Y’feel so, a—ah, good…”

You couldn’t help the breezy laugh that made its way out of you. “I haven’t even touched you yet, Jonathan, and you’re already so worked up,” you whispered in his ear, hot breath fanning on his warm skin.

“P-pleeeease,” He begged, slowly grinding into you. Jonathan was barely coherent, mind just focussed on chasing the release he so desperately needed.

You raised a brow, but complied, slipping your warm hands down his boxer shorts and pulling his thick length out. You pumped him lazy, feeling how he writhed under you, tasteful whimpers slipping out of his mouth. 

After another second of you stroking him lightly, your thumb grazing past the tip and collected a decent amount of precum, he actually did come, wet hot load spurting upwards on his chest and your face. “Ah - hnngh, oh my — oh my god,” he drooled, jutting into your hand. 

It dripped down from your cheek onto your lips, and Jonathan squeezed his eyes shut, losing himself in the pleasure. You swiped a handful of his cream off your face, before covering his still hard, curved cock with it. 

“You’re not done, aren’t you?” You said to him quietly, his hips stuttering as you artfully smeared his come on himself. Jonathan was arching into your touch, completely putty in your hands. 

“Nuh- no, m’still— still need you, need you so bad.” he whimpered shamefully, hands stuck to your waist.

“Look at you go,” you found yourself cooing, dragging a creamy hand down his equally as creamy chest, your fingernails grazing him. “Let me take care of you.”

Then, you lifted yourself up off his lap, and carefully situated your slit on the tip of his head. “Christ,” you called out as you slid down, “you’re fucking big,” 

Inch by inch, you took him, and Jonathan’s eyes were rolling into the back of his head, a string of senseless groans and whines leaving his mouth. “Feels so warm, so so warm,” he choked out at last, looking at you adoringly. 

You started to lift out of him, your cunt stinging slightly at the sheer size of his cock, when you felt a heated liquid shoot through you, Jonathan’s knees buckling under your ass. 

He’d come, again, even before you could get started. You shook your head incredulously at the terribly horny man beneath you, eyes glazed over in the pure ecstasy he was feeling. 

“Stop, fucking — coming,” you scolded, bottoming his cock into you once more, “you’re gonna get me so — ah— fucking - pregnant if you keep coming.”

“Sorry,” Jonathan said sheepishly, burying his head into the crook of your neck. “Can’t help it— you feel so — hnngh — feel so good.”

You rolled your eyes at his words, then focussed on getting a good pace of sliding in and out, your hips rolling deeper and deeper into his own. You were bouncing quickly on his cock, dick-riding him like you’d never done before. 

With all other sexual partners you had, they wanted to be all vanilla, always just missionary, going slow until they were close, no sense of creativity or any other wishes that just feeling you. With Jonathan - especially in the state he was in now - you could do whatever you wanted, as long as his cock was in your cunt. 

“Good — god,” you screamed out, when Jonathan suddenly gained control over himself and snapped into you, rough hands pinching the flesh of your hips. He rutted into you, hard and fast, for a moment like that continually, before his control melted once more into nothingness, and all he could do was let you take the reins. 

“Please— how’re you so — ah, how does your pussy feel so good…” he murmured, trailing off into a high-pitched moan when you pulled out, then just as fast sunk down on him. 

Jonathan’s fingers trailed up your body, rubbing at your soft flesh, before they found your breasts, kneading you tenderly. He chanced several licks on both your erect nipples, and you shuddered, tightening around him. Your cunt was sucking him in, devouring his length no matter how big he was, and he could feel how his length was stretching your walls wide open. 

“So fucking big.” You panted, arms wrapping around his neck, “fat fucking cock all needy, just me.”

“Jus’… just for you! All - ah, all for you,” Jonathan repeated with a squeak, lips bitten delicately between his teeth. 

Your hands trailed all over his body, and as the pleasure was getting to you, making your head dizzy and your thoughts foggy, you bounced down on him and your nails scratched up his back, surely leaving small wounds. 

This miniscule amount of pain seemed to amplify Jonathan’s endless pleasure, and you could feel him pumping you full of his come once again, the tip of his dick pressed flush against your cervix. His come made you feel so full, fuller than you already did with his monstrous cock nestled into you, continually rubbing up on the toe-curlingly spongy spot in your cunt every time you pushed him back in. 

“Mmf,” Jonathan groaned, pleasure muffling whatever he was was going to say, “m’gonna… gonna get you pregnant,”

“Yeah?” You breathed out, squeezing your eyes shut, “Is that what this needy cock wants? To get my wet cunt full and me pregnant?”

“Yes, yes, hnngh, please, wanna come - wanna come more,” Jonathan cried out. 

“‘kay, okay,” you nodded vehemently, “then make this pussy feel good.” 

Then, you slid out with a whimper, two loads worth of come spilling out of your worn-out cunt, turning around so your ass would face him, before you sunk back down on him. You were chasing your own pleasure now, the unmistakable feeling rumbling within your lower stomach. 

Jonathan was completely fucked out, just a shaking, hot and bothered mess on the sticky wooden chair you’d both occupied, but he still welcomed your warm pussy back on him with open arms. Your folds beat any other cunt he’d ever been in, and he knew nothing, not even his own hand, could match up to how addicting you were, how delectably you took him. 

The new angle had you reeling, your hands gripping Jonathan’s thighs for some much-needed support. You were buckling, getting weaker with every bounce, but were still desperate for release. It affected Jonathan too, and he was pressing his face up against your hair, biting down lightly on your shoulder to collect himself despite the earth-shattering pleasure you were inflicting on him. 

Your fleshy cunt met his rock-solid cock every moment perfectly, and soon enough your back was arching, head leaning back on Jonathan’s shoulder. That knot in your stomach was tightening, a fire burning within you and begging you not to stop.

Jonathan’s needy hands were coursing all over your body, rubbing on you in all the right places, and when his calloused fingers began pinching and twisting at your sensitive nipples, you saw white. That burning feeling dragged across your entire body, your jaw tensing, and you felt positively fuzzy, pure pleasure destroying all coherent thoughts you’d been having, your mind now focussed on the insane way he made you orgasm. 

There was nothing that could compare to how you felt now, this being the hardest you’d orgasmed in your entire life. There was just something about Jonathan — be it how unbelievably big he was, or perhaps the odd tension that surrounded you two for the past few years — that made this experience ten times, no, a hundred times, better.

It was like his dick had been artfully crafted to stretch you out and stuff you full; that thick cock, made just for you. 

In place of your weakening strength, Jonathan kept his hand tweaking your breast, and his other hand gripped your hip tightly, helping you bounce up and down on his cock. Thus, the pleasure was maximized by his touch, and you rode out your high like that for a few more long moments. 

You stayed there, on his lap panting and drooling, for a few more seconds, before you climbed off of him, grimacing at the loss of his sweet cock in you. 

You stood shakily, feeling his come ooze out of your sticky hole, and you were surprised to see that Jonathan was still hard. He was panting, head leaning against the chair, hands and legs trembling, but his dick could probably still pump out another round of come. 

You did always wondering how he’d taste, and after seeing how long and thick he was, you wanted to know if his dick could make you cry, too. So, you kneeled down on the cold floor, pulling him by the ankles a little further off the chair, so you could get better access to him, and buried your pretty little head between his shaking thighs. 

“What’re you— doing?” Jonathan said blearily, but before he could continue, your soft lips wrapped around him, and your tongue began artfully swiveling his sensitive head.

The loudest moan you’d heard so far was drawn out of Jonathan, and more, similar noises came out of him. It was nonsensical, and unintelligible, but you could tell he was having the time of his life — as if he hadn’t just orgasmed three times prior. 

You started slowly, mouth taking his cock until you felt like you couldn’t anymore, before forcing past that point and making yourself take him to the back of your throat. Tears lined the rims of your eyes, your head swimming from lack of oxygen, but you couldn’t help how badly you wanted to hear him whimper and whine out from how good you were servicing him, his pretty groans reaching your ears like music. 

You pulled his cock out of your mouth when you felt like you were going to pass out, and then you began lapping up at his cock, sucking and curving your tongue around his long length. You sucked him hard and fast, and then, his hands grappled at your hair. 

At this point, you believed the aphrodisiac was wearing off, and Jonathan, now a little more clearheaded, began face fucking you, filling your sweet mouth full with his filthy cock. He couldn’t resist doing so, especially with you looking up at him through your tear-stained lashes, hollowing out your cheeks and gripping his thighs like your life depended on it. 

You gagged on him, several times, but he didn’t care, and with a jolted thrust past your swollen lips, he came, squirting all he had left down your throat. You sucked and swallowed every drop of him into your mouth, loving the taste of his salty liquid. 

Now, you were both fucked out, beyond tired, the strain on your muscles settling in. Your core had been properly exercised, what with how many times you rutted into Jonathan, and he, similarly, had a strained back with how much he arched into your touch, his aphrodisiac-clouded mind wanting nothing more but to be touched by you. 

“Good god, woman,” Jonathan said, collapsing into the wooden chair, which was sticky with sweat, come and your cunt’s soaking wetness. “You could’ve just said you wanted to fuck,”

You panted, dropping down onto the cold floor beneath you and wincing. “We’re — we were, just friends.”

He waved away your words, “We live together, darling. Not quite sure if that's “just” friends.”

You looked up at him, before laughing agreeably. “Felt good though, didn’t it?” A smug grin made its way on your lips, remembering how submissive Jonathan had been, how desperate he’d been just for the slightest bit of touch. 

“Amazing,” he said exasperatedly. “But next time, you’re not topping.”

“Next time, huh?” You said brightly, shakily getting up. Jonathan helped you, both of you limping exhaustedly up the stairs to your actual house, where you really should’ve been fucking, instead of the clinical environment of your large basement lab.

Jonathan’s hands found your ass, pulling you flush against him and kneading the flesh roughly. “Why not? Don’t you wanna know how I fuck?” he whispered suggestively into your ear, nibbling at the lobe. 

“I think, you’ve still got some aphrodisiac in you, Jon.” you said, laughing breezily. 

i wanna lick from rafe camerons v-line to his neck fr

girl dinner. always

some of y’all’s sex drive is higher than your will to live & it shows

i’m literally so in love with this like

❝ my son? ❞

-ˋˏ MASTERLIST ˎˊ-

PAIRING : grownup! rafe x kook! f reader x young! rafe’s son

CONTEXT : after sleeping with rafe, you lost each other for a few busy years. but after 10 years, you finally came back in kildare, with a surprise …. a surprise Rafe is not going to forget that soon.

wanted to write a thing like lila x diego (umbrella academy) idk how it went lol i didn’t how to end it, so i des a little open fluff end.

WARNINGS : emotional manipulation, mention of sex, pregnancy, giving birth, rafe’s son being… a smart mouth and … rafe’s son (having bad ideas, being provocative), smoking.

❥ reblogs and likes are appreciated ! 𓆙

external pov -

a woman enters the country club, dressed in a long black lace dress, her pretty cleavage catching everyone's eye, she raises her sunglasses as she walks towards the bar. next to her, a young boy shuffles along, his hands in the pockets of his disheveled suit. he's taken off the jacket and opened his shirt, he can't stop complaining about the sweltering heat.

Rafe was sitting at the back of the terrace when he sees her arriving, he raises his head, his gaze lost in space. he feels like he’s seeing a ghost, it’s been many years since he’s seen y/n. it was a hot summer night before his life went through a roller coaster ride. he had spent a night out of time, with this girl he had never gotten to know. it was just before Rose forced him onto the Coastal Venture. he had no choice but to forget her.

he got up, apologizing to the date he had taken to eat here this afternoon. he walked closer to her, unsure if it was indeed y/n. he paid absolutely no attention to the young man behind her, as if he did not exist.

"Mom, maybe we can just go home i don’t want to do-", the boy try to reaches his mother.

a man appears behind the young woman, slightly pushing the young boy away, he recognized her coming forward. it’s been a long time since he didn’t see her, too long maybe. Rafe pats her shoulder.

"y/n?", he asks, she turns to look at him and her smile grows.

"oh, just the man i was searching for", y/n smiles as she runs a hand behind the young boy's head. her heart was pounding as she stared at this man she didn’t see in person since almost 10 years.

Rafe smiles as he looks at her, glancing at the young boy, but nothing disturbs his beautiful smile.

"what's up?" he asks.

the young boy giggles as he points at Rafe.

"that's him?" he grimaces as he looks up at y/n, "you can do better, you know?".

y/n giggles as Rafe frowns at the little man.

"who is the tic-tac-toe?" Rafe spits.

y/n's smile grows as she looks down at her son, Eliot rolls his eyes as he backs away. she grabs his shirt to pull him closer to them. Rafe looks at him, eyebrows frowned.

"hey, talk better about my boy okay", y/n gasped.

Rafe's face unravels and she giggles, nodding softly, in that moment she knows she's about to tell him the biggest news of his entire life... a few years late.

she could have good reasons but... truth be told, she mostly wanted to do this on her own. She didn't want him to get involved, especially since when she knew Rafe he was far from a decent man... or even an ideal father. he spent his time partying, doing coke and drinking all day long, rumours said he was in a treasure hunt and… she didn't want that for Eliot. she could have send him a text, or a picture, she hesitated so many times but she really wanted him to be sober and responsible again.

she turns to her son with a slight smile on her lips, pulling him by the sleeve to bring him closer to Rafe, who stares at them uncomprehendingly. y/n puts a hand behind Eliot's shoulder.

"so Rafe this is Eliot", Rafe frowns as he realizes she's not introducing him, unsuspecting that Eliot has heard a lot about him. y/n pats his son's chest as he realizes he's not saying anything.

"say hi eliot", she orders. but the young man rolls his eyes in despair.

"charming, i see he got a lot from you" Rafe laughs, ankward.

Y/n giggles as she shakes her head, walks over to her son and pulls him by the sleeve once more.

"yeah, i know i told you he is an asshole but he is cool, you're gonna have fun with daddy this weekend. i have to go now. be nice okay. and don't forget sunscreen, you didn't get his skin okay.". she says, kissing his forehead. Eliot winces and grabbing her arm so she don’t leave already. Rafe chuckles as he watches her holding him.

“no it’s okay, you have your phone, text me if you need anything.” she smiles, running a hand on his hair.

Rafe smiles, his fingers wipes his lips, he deeply thinks she’s playing a weird joke on him. he was calculating when was the last time he have seen her… 9 maybe 10 years. but he really starts panicking when she start leaving. He tries to catch up with her but can't until she enters the reception room.

"bu- uh? what the fuck? you're joking right? please tell me you're joking" Rafe holds her by the wrists, his eyebrows furrowed in concern as y/n flashes a smile.

"yeah, um, no, not joking." she affirms, Rafe widens his eyes as if he can't believe what he's hearing and finally winces, shaking his head.

"what? you waited ten years to tell me i have a son?!" he yells, losing his cool, she pulls him by the shirt and takes him into a corner of the room.

"hey! you were the one doing shit okay? i heard about you and you were not the type of dad i wanted for him". she whispers.

Rafe felt as if the ground was shifting beneath his feet. His eyebrows furrowed and a million thoughts raced through his brain: "and now i am? what the fuck is wrong with you?".

y/n snaps, lowering her voice so Eliot won’t hear "you got shot on his sixth birthday! what was i supposed to do!”.

Rafe glares at her before looking around anxiously. of course, people turned to listen to their little argument. y/n sighed, she knew this decision would come back to bite her in the ass one day. but she did what she had to do. Rafe would always downplay everything, but he wasn't doing well, he was a suspect in a double homicide: Gavin, his father's pilot, and Peterkins, the town sheriff. he was addicted to cocaine and eventually became entangled in the drug business or treasure hunt after Eliot was born. there were always so many reasons not to tell him. y/n put a hand on Rafe's shoulder, nodding gently.

"what if you prove me this weekend you can be a good guy? wheezie told me you were sober for a year now.", Rafe tilted his head, frowning.

"and wheezie knows i have a kid?", he replied.

Y/n arches an eyebrow "if you at least call her...".

Rafe grimaces as he waves him off "fine just go, i don't want to see you anymore".

y/n smiles as she climbs onto her tiptoes "you know even if i didn't tell you i never stopped believing you could do this".

she placed a light kiss on the corner of his lips, Rafe had no idea how to go about it, he was still so lost, he had tons of questions on his mind. how had she given birth? what had happened? where did they live? where did he go to school? he realises she had so much to handle all by herself and Rafe felt guilty to not be with them. did they have everything they need ? so many questions but rafe only runs his hands on his hair before finally getting back to himself.

"you- um... okay, go have fun because, we are going to have fun too. take a few days, you deserved it." he smiled nervously as he handed her several bills in the palm of her hand.

y/n smiled with a little pout "okay, i'll leave his bag at tannyhill when i pick up Wheez".

Rafe frowned and he was sure Wheez wasn't home. maybe she lived somewhere else in Kildare, now. in fact, it’s been so many time since he didn’t talk to her.

Rafe had just realized that all his problems had come crashing down on him: the distance he'd put between himself and his family, his addictions, all the past he wanted to forget was the reason he'd never known his son...

Y/N left after kissing his son's cheek, which was trailing behind Rafe, Eliot was completely lost, to tell the truth, y/n had warned him it wasn't going to be easy, but he'd never imagined it would be like this. y/n wanted Eliot to be prepared and she kept telling him that Rafe was hard and tough so Eliot only could be surprised… in a good way.

“what a woman uh-” Rafe started to get interrupted by his angry kid “don’t talk about her like that”, Eliot grumbled. he stares at Rafe with dead eyes.

Rafe clenches his jaws. yeah. no doubts. he could see it in his eyes as Eliot came to his mom's defense without a second's hesitation. Rafe nodded gently, letting out a smile. Rafe inhaled deeply, biting his lip. he pulled him out of the country club quickly, eliot pushed his hand away before stepping aside. Rafe turned to the receptionist.

"put it on Cameron" he shouted.

"okay, what you want to do? you're not scared on motorcycle right?", Rafe asked. Eliot frowned and Rafe shrugged.

if he were really his son, he wouldn't be scared. Rafe gave him a helmet and helped him put it on. He left without say goodbye to his girlfriend, well... more or less the date he'd had lunch with. Eliot climbed in behind Rafe, his little arms clinging around his waist. Rafe felt a weird feeling as he turned his head just to make sure he was ready.

and this travel time gave Rafe a few minutes to imagine a real weekend. What did Rafe like to do at this age? how old was this kid again? he had to talk to him, he had to bond with this kid he didn't know at all.

═════════════════════

Rafe hands over a bill to pay for the ice cream, Eliot swats a mosquito at his skin, grimacing again. he rolls his eyes as he runs a hand through his dark hair. Rafe looks at him out of the corner of his eye, even though he's just met him, the resemblance is striking, brown hair, darker though, yet he has big familiar features: his nose and the shape of his eyes, the way he stands and rolls his eyes. it's as if he's seeing himself in a time mirror. he grabbed the ice creams without bothering to thank the shopkeeper and walked over to Eliot, sitting on a picnic table.

"so... chocolate is your favourite?" Rafe asked.

Eliot looked at him with a frown "oh, you know me so well" he mocks with arrogance.

Rafe pulled himself together before insulting his own child. he puckered his lips, shaking his head.

"fair enough. i wasn't here for like ... eight years?", Eliot grimaces as he looks up at Rafe "nine actually, almost ten", Rafe smiles as he watches him taste his ice cream.

"okay I'm sorry. if I wasn't a big jerk back then maybe the crazy lady who's your mother would've wanted-", Rafe started.

Eliot interrupts him again, staring him with dead eyes, "she told me you'd be a little jerk but I didn't think she was that right...".

Rafe snaps, "she said what?".

Eliot smiled and shrugged casually.

"I hear you went to school with her, and you weren't cool. she said you were an asshole. Actually it shows when you breathe" Eliot was having fun throwing snipes at Rafe who smiled with a little pout. it's true that he hadn't been really cool with her when they were young.

"I don't even know how I could please her, to be honest.” Rafe confessed. Eliot chuckled and nodded.

"Me neither. you’re a dork” Eliot smiled. Rafe looks at him, understanding he didn’t make a good impression on his son and Rafe couldn’t even blame him.

“and to say that she still loves you is stupid.” Eliot still didn't realize he'd dropped a big dumpling, Rafe's eyes widened as he nodded softly. she still have feelings for him? Eliot kept eating without looking at Rafe.

“the other guy is much cooler than you” he breathed. Rafe’s heart stopped a second, he watched his son, a small pinching in his chest make it hard to breathe.

“the other guy?” rafe asked.

“yeah, there is that guy that likes her and buys her stuffs, he is nice” eliot implied.

Rafe was totally jealous but couldn’t stop the conversation. it was his son, not that random guy’s son, he just met Eliot, and Rafe just wanted to bond with him. he know they could get along. he wanted to know more about this dude.

“and do you see that guy often?” rafe asked. Eliot raised his head to look at Rafe, a light smirk growing on his lips.

“not enough, he lives far away.” Eliot replied.

Rafe stared at his son, trying to find a way to ask him more about his mother. he had so many questions and he realised that he were asking the wrong questions. he wasn’t here with Eliot to stalk the woman he forgot during so many years…

“yeah okay. and you?” Rafe questioned. Eliot stares at him, frowning.

“what’s about you? you okay sport ? guitar maybe ?” Rafe asked. Eliot shakes his head before offering a smile.

“no, drums actually. mom bought me to annoy the neighbours but i figured i was talented” Eliot laughed.

Rafe smiled, he finally understood why that kid was so fit and have such strong arms for his age. but mostly rafe finds it amusing because he was pretty good with drums when he had the same age too. he nods, tilting his head.

“and what about school?” Rafe questioned.

“i suck ..” he sighed.

Rafe couldn't see the blood dripping from Eliot's ear yet. he had fragile eardrums and he needed to put drops several times a day.

“school suck anyways don’t be too ha- ew, buddy you have… are you okay?” Rafe asked as he search for a handkerchief for his ear.

Eliot grimaced as he put down his ice cream before searching his pockets.

“oh shoot i forgot my drops. maybe mom kept it.” Eliot grimaced.

“let’s go, i’ll take you to a pharmacy” rafe assured.

Rafe was stopping downtown, parked on a corner, Rafe and Eliot were heading to the town store.

there was a pharmacy next to a store, Rafe was paying the right product, when he recognized the familiar face of pogues he couldn't stand. he grimaced as he recognized Jj's smug look and Eliot turned to them before checking Rafe's gaze.

"you know them?" Eliot asked.

Rafe knew them well. they had fought for the gold of the Royal Merchant. but Rafe got shot and knocked out. he had woken up in his own blood in the cave of the Coastal Venture, just before they tried to stole the cross. they didn’t managed to because the crew stopped them. but this wasn’t over.

Rafe stared at his son. It was not the moment. he had to prove Eliot he was a good guy.

"yeah, it doesn't matter" Rafe huffed.

Eliot narrowed his eyes as he tilted his head. he was putting the small jar of product for his ears in his pocket.

“i get it you scared of them.” Eliot smiled.

Rafe turned to him, shocked that his own kid dared to provoke him like that, then he understood that Eliot was trying to manipulate him to know his little secrets. he recognised a familiar pattern without understanding it was the Cameron genes.

“you’re smart. but no. i told your mother i was a good guy now, and i'm not talking to them with you. you're too young for this" Rafe explained, determined to prove to y/n and Eliot that he was done with all of this.

Eliot rolled his eyes unconvinced, he dragged his feet to follow Rafe when a voice behind them stopped them in place.

“hey pope, do you see that? rafe cameron is doing babysitting.” JJ snickered as he made fun of them, pope snickered as he watched JJ crush his joint in front of the store.

“i hope he gets no more than 8 peer hour, just like midsummers” Jj mocks.

Pope smiles amusedly, he tries to pull JJ, aware that this stupid rivalry can go much further than petty barbs.

“no but the kook king actually working, you don’t see that every day” jj smiled.

Rafe held back from letting out a scathing comment and Eliot looked up to see Rafe inhale before running a hand under his nose, he couldn't do that. he was trying to put himself together. Rafe rolled his eyes in annoyance, Eliot turned to look at them quietly.

“what’s your problem… douche? you never had someone to wipe your tears and kiss your boo boo so now you’re jealous? you don’t have any better things to do?” Eliot spat, narrowing his eyes while looking at JJ who was struggling to contain his surprise. Pope himself tried to not laugh out loud, a smile was rising on his lips.

Rafe let out a loud laugh as he grabbed him by the shoulders, he chuckled while slapping her chest.

“okay, i had no doubts you’re my son but you can’t say the truth like this…” Rafe chuckles.

he puts an arm around Eliot’s shoulders to bring him closer. quite amused and rather proud of his son, he ran a hand through his hair.

“oooh… his son… you hear that Pope?” Jj chuckled.

Pope was trying to get him to shut up by shaking his head, “JJ let’s go, don’t do this. it’s just a kid. ".

Jj turned on his heel to follow Pope and Eliot then took a few steps towards JJ.

“right jj, listen to your babysitter, go home” Eliot shouted, Rafe put his arms around him to pull him, shocked, he barely hides his pride.

he stares with amusement at JJ coming back towards them as if to fight. Rafe pushed Eliot behind him before stepping in front of Jj as if to remind him that he will not touch a hair of this child.

“What? your ego can’t take a 12 year old putting you at your place, pogue?” Rafe spits.

Jj narrowed his eyes but Pope pulled him into the store before starting to lecture him. Eliot laughed out loud before pushing Rafe gently, amused. Rafe stared at the pogues out of the corner of his eye, promising himself not to miss them the next time he saw them.

“come on. oh my god… you can’t shut that mouth can you? just like your m-” Rafe started, Eliot pointed at him, grimacing.

“don’t talk about her again, i’ll kick you. wimp” Eliot scoffed. Rafe let out a stunned gasp as he turned to his son.

“hey! watch your mouth okay.” rafe snapped. Eliot grimaced before showing him his middle finger.

“stop saying my mom is crazy!” Eliot yelled before turning towards the parking lot. naturally, he pointed at an old and damaged van. it was a wreck, the paint was peeling off and the windshield had suffered several impacts.

“I bet they came in this piece of shit” Eliot smiled.

“stop being a baby and let’s do something” he exclaimed.

Rafe narrowed his eyes before looking at him with a tilt of his head. it was quite disturbing to act like an adulte when he was burning to follow his son in his crappy plans of vengeances.

“like what? " he asked.

Eliot pulled him into a corner of the parking lot so no one in the store could see them.

“come on let’s slash their tires." he whispered, smiling.

Rafe took a moment, surprised by the familiar glow he saw in this young man's face. it was almost unreal, he stared at it not knowing if it was a stupid test or if it was a real idea. he was dying to do this, he was thinking hard about things they could to do to bond but, actually, maybe they needed to be themselves. maybe Eliot inherited many things from Rafe… his constant will to do bad things and dangerous things. things could go wrong in a thousand of scenarios, Rafe knew it.

“it’s like looking into a mirror” rafe blurted out.

Eliot frowned as he stared at him, Rafe rolled his eyes.

“you won’t tell your mom about this?” he caved slowly.

Eliot shook his head, grimacing, a slight smile on his lips.

“maybe we can do cool stuff like this” Eliot smiled.

Rafe rolled his eyes before pulling him behind the parking lot. they walked discreetly towards the van and Rafe took a knife out of his pocket before giving it to Eliot, who was hiding behind the truck. the young boy took the knife, smiling, impressed. he looked at it from all angles, fascinated by the engravings in the metal.

Rafe nudged him to hurry up. they were crouching behind the van but rafe was still too tall, even on his knees, he was looking around, checking that no one was coming. Eliot smiled before stabbing the knife into the tire which burst. He sneered as he moved forward and gave the tire a second kick before reaching behind his back for Rafe to retrieve his knife.

Rafe took the knife in his palm and bent it before pushing his son towards their motorcycle. they hurried out of the parking lot before the pogues came back. Eliot snickered as he put on his helmet.

“that was fun” Eliot smiled, Rafe couldn’t help but agree.

Rafe had never been with anyone who gave him better ideas than his. he nodded before putting on his helmet. maybe he would get there after all. maybe he could bond with his son.

══════════════════════════

the day had just ended and Rafe was tying the ropes to the docks as he had just arrived home. they had spent all Friday night and Saturday day at sea. Night had just fallen but Eliot was sound asleep on the sofa, exhausted after his first real fishing trip.

Rafe had taught him how to catch big fish like tiny sharks and they had fought with the fish for several minutes before finally reeling it in. Rafe couldn't wipe off the gullible and impressed smile on Eliot's face, he had fallen while pulling up the fish that was wriggling on his chest and he did a little jump when he realized that he had indeed caught a small shark. Rafe had taught him to release him gently, he had even caught him before he slipped into the ocean.

Tonight, Rafe really felt like he had moved on with Eliot. he went back to the main cabin to turn off the engine and he heard footsteps behind him, he turned to find y/n, she was wearing jogging pants and a big sweater, she was smoking a cigarette as she walked towards the cabin.

“i took off my shoes” she smiled.

Rafe sighed remembering the last time he drove her in his dad boat. he sat down in the chair.

“how was your weekend?” he asked.

y/n grimaced, she had fun of course but obviously she hadn't had as much fun without Eliot.

“great, but I missed him. how was your weekend?” she asked.

he smiled, his hand passed over his face, his eyes were already shining. he felt way too much and because he was sober now, everything was more intense. he mostly felt guilty because he had missed out on so much.

“amazing. we fished” Rafe smiled.

he smiled, inhaling deeply, she pulled out a drag and he motioned for her to come closer and sit in the seat next to him. Rafe took out a bottle of alcohol and two glasses.

“I want to know everything, how did the birth go, were you alone?” Rafe asked.

Y/n widened her eyes, a smile stretched across her lips, she walked over and sat next to him before taking the glass he handed her.

“yes but I nailed it. " she smiles. Rafe frowns as y/n breathes deeply.

“It was October and I was passing my sister's house, I was stuck in traffic and I realized I was having contractions, I gave birth in the car on the side of the road.” y/n smiled, Rafe's eyes widened as if he was hallucinating, he couldn't believe she faced this alone.

“you brought him to life while driving? " he asked. y/n shook her head slowly, a smile on her face.

“just yeah, before i pull over” she huffed before taking a sip of alcohol.

“and what, you drove yourself to the hospital?” Rafe asked, still in shock. he stared at her like she was telling ghost stories.

“yeah dude, i was already in the car, i just kept him on my chest.” she smiled.

Rafe was surprised, shocked, almost dismayed. but for her, she had no choice, she had never had anyone but herself. she was supposed to call the dad, but Rafe was missing after he left on that boat… she couldn’t find him and she didn’t want anyone near her. it was her moment with her son, just them meeting each others for the first time in that car, stopped in the side of a road, night time, the rain was pouring outside. y/n would never forget that moment. she knew it was only her and that baby now.

“and what? you knew it was a boy? and also where did you live? where do you work?”.

Rafe bombarded her with questions, he wanted to know absolutely everything about his son, about her, about this family that he dreamed of having and that he had missed.

y/n then told him that she had not wanted to know the sex of the baby and that she had discovered it in the car, just after giving birth. Rafe imagined this moment as a magical moment outside of time, she was a kind of a hero for him, he couldn't believe that she had given birth to this child alone, in a car.

she told him about living in a small studio in Kildare before moving to the mainland. She lived in New York now and for the first few years she still lived in a small studio apartment and Rafe grimaced to imagine her raising a tiny baby in a confined space.

but y/n then told him about the best years of her life, she told him how she had put this baby to sleep next to her every night, she gave him bottles sitting on the balcony on scorching summer nights, she was giving long baths in a tiny tub she had installed in the balcony while she finished her homework.

rafe couldn't believe what he was hearing, he wished he was there, at least he could have found him a bigger space to live in, or better schools, better things...

he grimaced as he imagined his son lacking anything, his heart was breaking and the idea was unbearable. Rafe ran a hand through his hair before leaning on the dashboard, leaning towards her.

“im sorry you know… you… you were right… about a lot of things. i wasn’t ready and-,” y/n took his hand, looking into his eyes.

“i know you are now” she smiled.

Rafe pouted a little, dropping his head.

“fuck i just hate that i missed ten whole years..” he growled.

“you deserved someone good to help you and he… he deserves to have a normal family. " he sighed.

she pressed her forehead against his, seeking his gaze.

“you know when I told you I never doubted you could do this? i didn’t lie, Rafe” she smiled, running a hand over his.

Rafe couldn't help but narrow his eyes as he tilted his head. how could she defend him again and again? he had never been a kind or praiseworthy person to her, he had given her a baby before disappearing into drugs and treasure hunts full of dangers and guns. she must have hated him more than anyone but she had never tried to criticize him once, she had not looked down on his path strewn with pitfalls and addictions.

“what did you see in me?” he asked.

she gave a small smile, slowly closing her eyes.

“i bet you don’t remember the night we met.” she smiled.

he tilted his head with a frown, she then nodded, straightening up, she took her glass with one hand.

“it was kelce party and he invited me. i was still a kook then and i don’t know… i was with kelce everything was too fast.", Rafe then remembered what she started to tell him.

"he acted like he couldn't hear you, yeah i do remember, that piece of shit i swear-", y/n stopped him by putting a hand on his thigh.

“you don’t remember when you beat the shit out of him and fell on your head? that’s why i was on your bed, i checked you all night” she smiled.

she then recounted how Rafe had rushed to her aid, a violent, contested and paradoxical hero, Rafe had not hesitated to throw him on the ground before kicking him in the stomach. y/n told this story with a big smile without Rafe understanding anything.

“you ignored me for years and you were almost mean sometimes and” y/n tried to explain her point but Rafe dropped his head remembering all the remarks he said about her just to humiliate her in front of his friends. he was ashamed. especially when his son reminded him. he ran his hands through his hair.

“yeah i’m sorry i was such a jerk and i’m” rafe apologized.

“yeah, but that night you didn’t care that i wasn’t a real kook and you took my side without hesitating. you were harsh, and impulsive, but you were… protective and lost. you're complicated. no one really understood you.” y/n huffed.

Rafe stared at her, shaking his head, unconvinced. he didn’t understand himself either. he still didn't understand, he was just an asshole back then. Rafe sighed before lowering his head.

“can i…why did you keep him?” Rafe asked.

y/n shrugged casually.

“i don’t know…i just knew he was going to change my life” y/n smiled.

“I’m so glad you did. i- i- where do you live now? where you work at?” he asked.