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#and taking care of her after wards death

rafeandonlyrafe · 2 months

Text

obsessive love

words: 2.1k

warnings: 18+ only!!!, smut!!!, MURDER!!!, SERIAL KILLER!RAFE, PSYCHO!RAFE but sweet with reader, best friends to lover, DESCRIPTIONS OF BLOOD AND STABBING, physical violence, psycho!reader as well!, romanticization/sexualization of murder?, mentions of stalking (in the past), road head, blowjob, p in v sex, semi public sex, rafe beating up your dates tehe, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT (advisement to take caution and heed warnings! ty)

rafe is only half paying attention as the movie plays out on the screen. he’s far more focused on the way you’re tucked into him, squealing every time a jumpscare happens and ducking your head into his chest with a wide smile on your face.

it’s not unusual for you to get touchy with him, to cuddle in bed after a day together or hold hands when in a crowd. but lately rafe has found it difficult to not take things further. he has loved you since first grade. not had a crush on like some people like to say. no, rafe only knows deep, obsessive love for you.

it’s why you barely dated anyone high school, rafe was always there to beat your date up and make sure they didn’t reveal it was him. afterall, you’re his best friend. he just wants you to be happy. happy and with him. no one else deserves you, or can protect you the way he can, go to the extreme lengths rafe will.

rafe realized he was in deep shit when he was stalking one of your dates that he wasn’t able to get to. he dropped you off on your front porch and had the audacity to kiss you. rafe exploded the second you were inside. you found your date a bleeding and bruised pulp still on your doorstep the next morning.

“its not even that scary.” rafe chuckles, teasing you as you grip onto his forearm.

“yes it is!” you love getting scared. it’s what you often say is your worst feature. you may scream your head off at horror movies, but you’ll still drag rafe along to haunted houses come halloween and stay up late binging your favorite thrillers with a smile on your face despite the chills down your spine.

rafe forces himself to pay attention to the last couple minutes of the movie. its entertaining enough to distract him from wanting to pull you closer to him, to never let you go, to always keep you by his side where you're safe and happy.

an idea forms in rafes head as he watches the two characters finally kill the serial killer that had murdered all of their friends and tried to go after them. he watches the way they embrace, relief on their faces as they kiss, bonded together forever from the shared trauma.

rafe smiles as you ask him if he’s up for another movie, purposely navigating you to one involving an in love couple and people getting mysteriously murdered in their small town. rafe knows what he’s going to do to keep you close, to play into your fear and need for him.

“holy shit!” you grab the remote, unmuting the tv. you would apologize for using the language in front of wheezie, but she has just a bad of mouth as you do, and very little supervision now that ward is dead and rose fled with what little money she had left.

you both watch the news report on the edge of your seat, the anchor giving details on the recent murder in kildare. it’s a boy you went to school with, but haven’t spoken to since graduation. when the anchor begins to go over details of the murder, you click the tv off.

“hey!” wheezie argues, scrunching her brow as she looks at you, but you just shake your head. “you don’t need to be watching that kind of stuff, wheeze.”

you stand up to find rafe, eyes glancing around nervously, as if whoever murdered the boy could be lurking inside tanneyhill. you don’t realize that the murderer is just the man you want to see.

“rafe, oh my god!” you cry out when you round the corner to find him walking down the hallway. you fling your arms around his shoulders. he’s shocked for only a second before pulling you in, holding you by your waist as the words spill from your mouth, recounting the news to him.

“oh, that’s terrible.” he frowns, hand gliding up and down your back. “you better stay the night tonight, yeah?” he offers. it’s hours away from dark, but you certainly don’t want to venture home after hearing the news.

“yeah, if you don’t mind.” you feel your cheeks blush slightly, knowing you’ll end up sharing a bed with rafe as always.

“i never mind.” he smiles at you.

you wrap your arms around yourself as you watch the news report. the third murder in just under a month just took place last night. you lean against rafe, who presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“i can’t believe we knew all three people killed.” they weren’t particular gruesome deaths, most just a couple stabs with a sharp knife and leaving them to bleed out, there was no passion in the murder itself, no torturing or postmortem injuries.

“i know, it’s scary.” rafe is glad you can’t see the smile on his face. you already spent most nights anyways, but now you’re over more and more, only feeling safe when you have rafes arms around you. it makes it a little hard for him to slip away, but he finds the time.

“and not the fun kind of scary.” you pout. “although…” you trail off, almost like you didn’t mean to say it.

“although what?” rafe questions.

you sit up a little straighter, wiping your hands on your pants. “it’s a little exciting, isn’t it?” you admit. “that makes me sick, doesn’t it?”

rafe shakes his head, pulling away slightly to see your big innocent eyes blinking up at him as you continue to explain. “obviously it’s terrible these people are dead but… god, it’s exhilarating!” your words switch to rambling as you finally get your feelings out. “like the thrill of knowing there’s someone out there killing people, it just makes me feel so alive! as long as i don’t get killed or anyone close to me-”

“i won’t kill you.” rafe says the words to stop your rambling, not even realizing his slip up. “i won’t let you get killed.” he quickly corrects himself.

“i know.” you look rafe up and down. he can tell when your face shifts into one of sheer concentration, mind slowly piecing the puzzle together. rafe needs to do something now before it all comes together.

he could scream or yell for wheezie or… rafe leans in and presses his lips against yours, mouths molding together. you hesitate for a moment before kissing back, much to rafes relief.

“i won’t let you get killed because i love you.” rafe says, hand cupping your jaw to bring you in for another kiss.

“oh, rafe.” you coo, smooching all across his face before landing on his lips again. “i love you too!”

it’s harder now that you’re moved in. you went from spending most nights in rafes bed to making tanneyhill your home as well, cuddling and kissing every night until you’re off to sleep.

he doesn’t need to kill as much now anyways, besides he’s got most of the boys from high school who looked at you a little too hard in your shorts for gym class, or said lude things about you when you weren’t around.

you’re well and truly his, but rafe can’t help himself. he loves the way you hide in his arms when a murder happens, how you kiss him deeply and tell him you love him so much, how you’re so glad that something good came out of something terrible and that you’re together now.

rafe waits until you’re fast asleep before slipping his arm out from under you. he grabs the knife from the back of his closet before heading out. he just needs someone. to stab and maim someone. it’s been months since the serial killers last appearance, and people are starting to relax again, including you, even asking if rafe minded if you went out with your girlfriends without him.

rafe does what he needs to do. he doesn’t enjoy the act itself, but he doesn’t dislike the feeling after either. he walks back into the house, knife bloody but wiped off on the victims own clothes as to not drip all over the house as he sneaks in.

his footsteps pause when he sees you standing there, robe wrapped around your shoulders. he knows you see it. he knows you know everything.

“baby, please don’t leave me i-”

“can i come with you next time?”

“what?” your question shocks rafe, his voice raising before glancing up the stairs to make sure he didn’t wake wheezie.

“next time you kill someone. will you take me with you?” you ask, glancing at the knife, hating the rush you feel over your whole body when seeing it. it’s the last confirmation you needed for what you have been suspecting.

“i-baby, i don’t need to kill anymore. i’ll stop, it was just-”

“no.” you shake your head. “rafe, i don’t care. you can keep doing it. it’s… exciting.” you’re not ashamed this time when admitting it. you used to be worried about the murders but now you know there’s truly no need. rafe would never hurt you.

“okay.” he swallows, stepping closer, glad that you don’t turn away as you accept a kiss pressed to your lips. “okay, i’ll bring you next time.”

“shit, that was exciting!” you squeal, smiling as you turn to rafe. “seeing the life drain out of his eyes? and god, you were so hot when you stabbed him!”

“baby, you sound crazy.” rafe chuckles, easily gliding the car around the turns of the backroads, heading back towards home.

“rafe, you are a literal serial killer, i don’t think you should lecture me on sounding crazy.” you giggle, not even tired despite the late hour from all the adrenaline. “and god, you looked so hot stabbing that guy.”

you reach over and run your fingers down his forearm, remembering the way his muscles bulged and stretch when swinging the knife. your hand moves from rubbing his arm to his thigh, only pretending that your movements are innocent for a minute before you slide your hand up to his crotch, rubbing at his length, feeling it harden in his pants.

“baby-” rafe groans, eyes flicking between you, your hand, and the road in front of him illuminated by his headlights.

“just keep driving, it's okay.” you unbuckle so you can lean across the center console, lips pressing against his neck, tongue darting out to taste his skin.

you tug at the front of his sweatpants, rafe lifting his hips to assist you as the car engine roars. you grip his cock, teeth running over his jaw teasingly, never biting down as you stroke him eagerly, wanting to thank him for continuing his killing spree, for starting it for you and allowing you to take part.

“let me suck you off.” you gather your hair to one side, fucking your head until you're bent sideways. you hold rafes cock with one hand at his base while your lips sink down around the head, moaning at the familiar taste on your lips.

“fuck.” rafe swerves slightly, glad there's no one else on the road as you suck and lick at him, not caring that you're dripping spit down your chin from your movements.

“lemme pull over baby.” rafe says. he knows how much you like the excitement, the rare possibility someone could drive by, but he needs you hop0ing on his dick.

“fiiiine.” you say dramatically, going right back to sucking him off until rafe pulls on a dirt road. you work your shorts and panties off so the second the car is shifted into park, you swing your legs over to straddle rafe.

“shit, you're so wet.” rafe groans as you rub his cock through your folds.

“i told you.” you smirk at rafe. “you looked so hot killing that guy.”

you sink down before rafe can reply.

the murders shift from rafe doing them in secret to make you rely on him, to force you closer, to something you do together, you often doing the planning while rafe finishes the task with violence.

you barely get back to the car before you jump on him, needing to feel his fingertips digging into your hips while he fucks ever, even if there are still specks of blood on him.

you know you won't get caught. no one would expect the former troubled teen turned happily domesticated man, raising his little sister after his father's death with his faithful girlfriend, to be the one behind the violence.

you see no reason to stop as rafe wipes his knife clean for what feels like the hundredth time.

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cherienymphe · 3 months

Text

His Father's Son

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Summary: After the untimely death of his father, Rafe takes it upon himself to become the man of the house.

warnings: NON-CON, STEPCEST, AGE GAP, mentions of major character death, depression, alcoholism, stepmom!reader, underage drinking, canon ages

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | ➥ divider by @firefly-graphics

⭑

The overwhelming feeling of being watched turned out to be true.

You flinched at the sight of the figure standing next to your bed, eerily still and eerily familiar in the darkness. Reason took over, and your heart started to slow just as quickly as it had started to race. You struggled to move, legs twisted within the sheets as you reached over to turn on the lamp. Sleep was still clinging to you, desperate to pull you back in, but you pushed it away with one look at Rafe’s face.

“It’s 8 o’clock,” was all he said in that tone you had never cared for.

Once his words actually registered though, you swallowed down the mild irritation that had threatened to bubble up. You felt your heart drop to your stomach as you blinked, staring at him with parted lips before hurrying to search for your phone. When it bounced out of your unsteady hands and onto the floor, you cursed.

Sliding out of bed, you unfortunately confirmed that it was indeed 8 o’clock.

Now 8:03.

“Shit,” you breathed, pressing your hand to your forehead. “Um…”

You swiped your tongue between your lips, noting how dry they felt.

“Tell Wheezie-.”

“I already took Wheezie to school.”

The teenager’s words surprised you, and your hand fell, staring at him in a mixture of shock and shame. At those words, you finally registered the look on his face, and you found yourself thinking that his tone earlier made a lot more sense. You opened and closed your mouth, fighting to figure out how to respond. Unfortunately, you didn’t come up with anything clever.

“…oh.”

You watched the blond cross his arms over his chest, head tilted with the barest of frowns between his brows.

“I’m sorry,” you finally added, letting out a sigh. “I overslept and my alarm didn’t go off and…”

You found yourself trailing off, hating the sound of your excuses.

You got the feeling that Rafe hated the sound of them too by the even stare he fixed you with. You imagined that he hadn’t planned on dropping Wheezie off to her first day of school this year, and while it was something you both knew he should expect to do sometimes, it was also something he should’ve been asked to do. You couldn’t even remember going to bed the previous night, and you were sure the two bottles of wine you’d consumed had something to do with it.

“Should I anticipate dropping her off tomorrow too?”

There was an edge in his voice that you didn’t like but couldn’t necessarily be angry at.

“No,” you told him, tone sheepish. “I’ll get up on time.”

Rafe didn’t respond, but he also didn’t leave right away. He simply stood there, drinking you in with a frown. There was a look that passed through his eyes that made you think he probably wanted to say something, but if that were true, he swiftly changed his mind. You watched him silently leave, and you resisted the urge to sigh, closing your eyes instead.

When you married Ward Cameron two years ago, it wasn’t for the most honorable of reasons you’d admit. However, the same could also be said for him. After all, what would a forty-year-old man possibly want with a twenty-seven-year-old woman? Probably something equally as superficial as the same reasons a twenty-seven-year-old woman would want to marry a forty-year-old man. With that being said though, you hadn’t actually expected to fall for him. In hindsight, how could you not?

He had never been bad looking, and he was far kinder than you ever expected. Sure, the money and security of a comfortable life were what pulled you in, but after saying yes, you realized that he wasn’t the typical cold and rich husband you expected him to be. Seeing him do his best with his children only made it harder to pretend like it was some loveless marriage of mutual benefit.

You loved him.

…and then he died.

With one boating accident, you were suddenly the single mother of three teenagers. It wasn’t something you were prepared for, and while one was technically an adult, that still left two who weren’t and couldn’t possibly fend for themselves. On top of it all, you still found it hard to get out of bed most days, a problem that wasn’t so bad during the summer.

…but the new term was here, and you couldn’t put your responsibilities off any longer.

Reminding yourself that you’d quite literally drank yourself to sleep the previous night and therefore overslept, you noted that you were off to a bad start. The thought made your eyes burn, the full realization of your new reality hitting you. After Ward died, Rafe was basically the one to take care of everything while you spent most days in bed, but months had passed and summer was over and now your time had come to be a parent.

Resisting the urge to cry, you stumbled to the bathroom, hoping you didn’t look as bad as you felt.

“Did you hear me?”

His voice pulled you out of your own head and you slowly turned to look at him.

“What?”

Rafe stared at you for what felt like a long time, and it was then that you realized he’d probably been speaking to you for some time. You swallowed at the realization, noting that you’d spaced out again, and when Rafe heaved a sigh, you actually felt like the scolded child.

“Sarah’s staying over at a friend’s house tonight,” he told you.

You could feel his gaze on you when you nodded, and deep in the back of your mind you knew that you should’ve asked some follow up questions, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. You’d always trusted Sarah and her judgement—Rafe being the one you and Ward always worried about—and considering the circumstances, you wouldn’t question her on this. In your current state of mind, you were positive she could ask you to smoke a blunt and you’d give her the okay.

You were pulled from your thoughts again by the sound of your name.

You were unsurprised to meet Rafe’s gaze.

You couldn’t place the look on his face, but he seemed like he was deep in thought. Rafe’s behavior and demeanor had taken a 180 after Ward’s death you had to admit. Granted, you supposed that was to be expected, but for some reason it surprised you. Maybe it was because the change was so drastic or maybe because Rafe seemed so set in his ways that it was hard for you to remember that he was only nineteen and still had so much capacity to mature into someone entirely other than what you knew him to be.

Your thoughts on the matter didn’t really matter, you supposed. All that mattered was that he’d stepped up where you’d so clearly dropped the ball, and maybe that was why you found it so hard to snap out of it and be the responsible parent, now. There were days when your grief paralyzed you, and you didn’t feel that nagging obligation to get out of bed because you knew Rafe would handle it.

The blond didn’t say anything, but his thoughts were plain as day as he reached along the counter and slid your drink from in front of you.

“Rafe-.”

“I think you’ve had enough,” was all he drawled, and you found yourself frowning.

“Who’s the parent in this scenario?”

“Apparently me,” he fired back, making your jaw tick. “I’m the one running the business and taking Wheezie to school and making sure there’s actually something to eat in the house.”

You blinked at that, recalling that you couldn’t remember the last time you went grocery shopping. Shame filled you once again, and your gaze lowered, eyes tracing the patterns of the granite. The silence that descended between you was thick, and just when you were about to apologize, Rafe spoke.

“Look, I get that you loved him or whatever, but… So did we…,” your eyes met his at that. “…and Wheezie and Sarah still have to go to school, and I still have to talk to people and deal with contracts and bullshit I didn’t think I would for at least another ten years.”

You realized that Rafe was right, and it made you feel worse because you didn’t think Ward would have married you if he didn’t think you were capable of looking after his children should something happen to him. Yet here you were…letting him down…

Rafe moved from his spot on the other side of the counter, and you only let him when he gently took your arm and forced you to stand. It was a far cry from your dynamic only five months ago. In your defense, you never clicked with Rafe. It wasn’t for lack of trying on your end, but Rafe was so troubled and had so many pent-up emotions and awful drug habits that it only proved to be a breeding ground for disaster.

You could think of too many instances in which you tried to be a parent to him only to be met with the same snarky and cruel demeanor he gave to everyone. He never quite took to you as his new parental figure, and you’d quickly learned that Ward was the only authority he’d respect and listen to. You tended to try and stay out of his way as a result, but Rafe was the one to catch you when you collapsed after getting the news that day.

Overnight, he’d gone from treating you like the ugly stepmother and instead like some injured foal he needed to look out for.

“That’s not healthy,” Mrs. Thornton said to you a few days later.

You watched her set her tea down, lips twisted into disapproval as she marinated on your words.

“You are the parent,” she sternly told you. “It’s your duty to pick up right where Ward left off, and instead you are letting some teenager run things.”

You knew that she was right, but you didn’t exactly relish hearing it.

You had never cared for the older woman, her upbringing influencing the majority of her opinions and stern exterior. However, after the boating accident, you desperately needed another actual adult to talk to. You were out of your element, and everyone knew it, and the first time you sat with her after your husband’s death felt humiliating. Now, however, you practically relied on her to keep your head on straight.

“…but I don’t know how to parent two teenagers all by myself, let alone handle the family business that I was never all that privy to.”

She made a noise at your admission, and it only served to humiliate you further. You had long suspected that she didn’t approve of Ward marrying a significantly younger woman, and by telling her that you weren’t included at all in the important decisions, you only validated her suspicions that you were only ever for show.

You forced yourself to ignore it.

“Their relationship was rocky, yes, but… No one knew Ward like Rafe,” you quietly admitted. “…and Rafe is the only one Ward talked to about all of this. Rafe knows how to make the decisions Ward would want.”

“He’s nineteen,” she scoffed. “Barely older than my own son.”

At your unsure expression, she leaned in closer, brows drawn together and lips pursed.

“You are his parent,” she repeated. “…and the longer you refuse to act like it and let him handle the business and the household and his siblings, he will forget it and start to challenge you in your own home.”

You didn’t have the heart to tell Mrs. Thornton that it didn’t exactly feel like your home anymore. At least not without Ward. While it relieved you that Sarah and Wheezie still treated you as they did before his death, you still couldn’t help but worry that without him around they would soon refuse to take you seriously as a parent. Part of you wouldn’t even blame them.

You’d only been in their life for three years, six months of which you were just their father’s silly twenty something girlfriend. You didn’t need to be a genius to know that they never expected him to actually marry you. Rafe had made that pretty clear when Ward had broken the news with you at his side.

It was a week later when you found yourself knocking on the door of Ward’s study. You supposed that it belonged to Rafe, now, and that correction made your heart clench. Even seeing him in the same spot where Ward often sat made you falter, and it took you a moment to remember why you’d disturbed him. Mrs. Thornton’s words were front and center in your mind.

“We need to have a serious talk about the business.”

At your words, Rafe only tilted his head, and you noted how out of place he looked in Ward’s space. Rafe was so young and everything about him betrayed his mindset and inexperience and impulsive tendencies. He didn’t belong, at all, but who were you to deny him his birthright?

“What about it?” he finally wondered, and you were hyperaware that he was watching your every move as you walked about the room.

“I think that I should be more involved with it,” you told him, continuing at his frown. “Rafe, you’re only nineteen, and like you’d said. You weren’t prepared to be fully involved in this for at least another decade.”

You watched him toss some papers aside at that, and the look he fixed you with made you swallow. It was reminiscent of the Rafe you were used to. You didn’t miss the way he dragged his blue gaze over you, sizing you up, and you definitely didn’t like it.

“You don’t know anything about it.”

The acknowledgement that Ward had never included you in these matters stung, but you only sighed.

“No…but…”

Your words died in the air as Rafe stood, and you had an inkling of what he was going to say by the look on his face.

“Do you even want to be involved in my dad’s business?” he asked you, leaning against the desk with his hands pressed into the wood. “Or are you just listening to Topper’s mom again?”

The blond chuckled at your silence, and it lacked humor.

“My dad left it to me,” he finally said, holding your gaze. “…and I know you think you should be involved because…well…you’re the parent, now…”

You didn’t like the way he rolled his eyes at that, and you blinked when Rafe straightened, nearing you.

“…but you don’t get it.”

Rafe looked between your eyes.

“I disappointed him too much while he was here, and this… This is my chance to make him proud,” he admitted, and your shoulders drooped.

“Rafe…”

“…and not just with his business,” he continued. “He’s gone…so now I have to step up and be the man of the house.”

Despite the fact that you could see where Rafe was coming from, you didn’t necessarily agree. He was too young to be putting so much pressure on himself to follow Ward’s footsteps and make up for his absence. That was your job, and you heaved a sigh, looking down. You’d just started to shake your head when he spoke again.

“Besides…you’re still knocking back…what? Twelve bottles a week?”

You reared back at that, lifting your gaze as he’d already started turning away from you.

“I’m not saying it to be mean,” he assured you, leaning against the desk and intently watching you. “I’m just stating a fact.”

Your throat felt incredibly thick all of a sudden.

“My dad’s death hit you really hard, and I get it. Mrs. Thornton is telling you that you’re the parent—the adult—and so you need to put me in my place and step into your role.”

You looked away, avoiding his eye.

“…but you can barely function most days, and I treated you like shit on more than one occasion, so…” you reluctantly met his gaze again. “It’s only fair that you let me look after you, now.”

You wanted to tell him that that wasn’t his job, and that more importantly, it should be the other way around. However, he was right. In your condition, you’d screw everything up and drive the whole family into debt. It wouldn’t be like this forever, you knew that, and so you reluctantly agreed that you needed time to get yourself together before you fucked it all up.

You woke up in tears, chest tight as you struggled to breathe.

It wasn’t the first time you dreamed about Ward, but instead of a good dream it was only a memory of that day Shoupe had knocked on your door. You’d felt trapped and panicked as you watched on, telling yourself not to answer it. Somehow, if you didn’t answer it then it wouldn’t be true. He wouldn’t be dead but just…still on his boat…enjoying a long vacation.

The events played out just like they did that day. You’d been able to feel the dread deep in your gut at the look on Shoupe’s face, and you kept screaming at yourself to kick him out of your house, that he had nothing good to tell you. You watched the way your face fell and the way your hands shook, and Rafe had only walked into the room for two seconds before hurrying to grab you when your knees buckled. He’d held you, fighting to calm you down as you wailed…

Much like he was doing now.

“Hey, hey,” you heard him harshly whisper, arms tight around you as he kept you from bucking around on the bed. “Y/N…”

Your nails dug into his arm as you tried to catch your breath, but your choked sobs were coming out too fast to give you any kind of reprieve. You could feel Rafe’s chest at your back as he moved closer, and one of his arms snaked around your neck as he held you in place.

“Is she okay?”

It was only then that you realized the hallway light was on and bleeding into the otherwise dark room. Wheezie sounded worried—scared—and you cursed yourself for doing that to her. You were supposed to be their support, comforting them and providing a safe space during this awful time in their lives, and instead it was the other way around.

You both heard and felt Rafe sigh.

“Yeah, she’ll…she’ll be fine. Wheezie, you should go back to bed,” he told her. “Now.”

You could only assume she listened to him, and Rafe only let you go when your breathing started to slow. You weren’t crying as hard when he laid you back down, and his absence was only felt for a few minutes before the bed dipped again. You felt him put a pill in your hand, and you frowned at it as he pulled you into a sitting position.

“Take this,” he told you, pushing your hand towards your mouth.

“What…?”

“It’ll help you sleep,” was all he said, forcing you to pop it into your mouth, a glass of water being pressed to your lips almost immediately.

In your distress, some slipped past your lips, and Rafe beat you to it in brushing his thumb across your chin. Slowly blinking, you laid back down, and you heard Rafe set the glass of water aside. You naturally thought that he’d leave, but you were surprised to feel his hand on the side of your face, smoothing it over your face and hair.

You really didn’t like that he was taking on a role that should’ve been yours, and after some time, you quietly mumbled an apology.

“I loved him,” you whispered in the darkness, and you felt Rafe freeze. “I know you guys think that I didn’t. I know what you and your friends have probably said about me behind my back.”

You tiredly scoffed, more tears escaping as you squeezed your eyes shut.

“…but I loved your father very much, and I wasn’t prepared to do this alone.”

Rafe didn’t say anything, but he didn’t move either, and you pressed your hand to your face, feeling the pill taking effect.

“I don’t know what to do,” you choked out. “He was supposed to be here, Rafe, I’m not supposed to do this alone.”

You could feel your chest tightening again, and Rafe shushed you. You could feel your body becoming lighter, and you welcomed it, face relaxing and breathing slowing. Rafe was still next to you, his body so close to yours that you could feel the heat coming off of it. You didn’t have the strength to push his hand away as his fingers grazed your cheek, and after some time you felt him pull the cover over you.

You didn’t feel him move or leave, but you became less concerned about that the more your fatigue grew.

You stared at Wheezie’s hopeful face, chewing on your lip as you contemplated her request.

“Have I met Natalie’s parents before?” you wondered, and you realized your mistake in asking that when her face dimmed.

“I don’t think so, but…dad did.”

You slowly nodded at that, whispering a small ‘right’ before looking away. It was a Friday evening, and in order to make up for your less than stellar behavior, you’d planned to cook and have dinner as a family—something that hadn’t been done in months. However, Sarah’s plans with her boyfriend put a damper on that, and now Wheezie was asking to stay over at a friend’s.

It didn’t seem fair to make Wheezie stay while Sarah didn’t. Granted, Sarah hadn’t exactly asked you, but still. The plan was to have dinner as a family anyway, and without Sarah, that wish was already ruined. The way you saw it, you might as well let Wheezie go, but you didn’t know Natalie’s parents, and so you felt unsure.

Rafe came into the kitchen then, and with one look between you, he deduced that a serious discussion was being had.

“What’s wrong?” he asked no one in particular.

“I’m asking mom if I can sleep over at Natalie’s tonight.”

“…and I’ve never met Natalie’s parents so…”

You watched Rafe chuckle at that, lips curving into a smirk as he moved to taste the vodka sauce on the stove.

“They’re almost as uptight as Topper’s mom, so Wheezie will be in good hands if that’s what you’re worried about,” he told you, tone light.

While that reassured you, you still felt a little down about your plans for the evening being ruined. You got the feeling that it was noticeable, and you flinched a bit when you felt Rafe’s hands briefly come down on your shoulders before brushing past you.

“You can do your family dinner thing another night,” he suggested, shrugging at you. “Sarah won’t be here anyway.”

Wheezie gave you a pouty lip, and you thought it over. If she said that Ward had met them before, and Rafe confirmed that they were indeed trustworthy, then you didn’t see why not. Even still, you unintentionally found yourself looking to Rafe, and when he gave you the barest of nods, you smiled at the thirteen-year-old.

“Okay,” you breathed, and she jumped up with her phone in hand.

“Natalie’s mom is picking me up,” she threw over her shoulder, hurriedly heading for the stairs.

You were happy to see her coping better with things, so you tried to focus on that instead of the fact that you’d be eating alone. Turning back to the stove, you turned the dial down to a simmer, half expecting Rafe to be gone when you turned around. He wasn’t, and you didn’t miss the way he eyed you as he leaned his arms on the counter.

“Let me guess, you have plans too? It’s Friday, and that usually means you’ll be out somewhere with Topper and Kelce.”

The crooked smile on his face was mocking as he peered up at you from beneath his lashes.

“It’s family dinner night.”

You only rolled your eyes at that, turning away from him.

“You’re nineteen, Rafe. I don’t expect you to turn down plans with your friends just to stay home and sit across from your stepmom,” you sighed. “You can go, it’s fine.”

“You and I both know I don’t do anything I don’t want to do,” he said, something you silently agreed on. “I want to stay.”

When you looked at him again, you were surprised to find him standing much closer, now. You hadn’t even heard him move nor realize just how close his voice was. You couldn’t place the look on the blonde’s face as he stared at you, and you watched him reach up to grab a plate.

“Why?” you chuckled.

Despite how nice he was being now, you both knew that it was only the case because of Ward’s death. Rafe had never cared for you, and if the circumstances were different, he wouldn’t hesitate to get as far away from this house as possible. You felt like Rafe’s thoughts were probably mirroring your own, something passing through his gaze that looked a lot like confusion.

“…because you loved him. Probably more than me,” he shrugged.

You frowned because you didn’t agree with that, at all, and you told him so.

“I think there are very few people who can love someone as much as a son loves his father.”

You threw Rafe a small smile, reaching out to rest your hand on his arm.

“…and you did love him, Rafe. Sure, you guys fought worse than teenage sisters at times,” you breathed, frantically blinking at the memories. “…but that’s just because he wanted the best for you, and you had your own problems that didn’t stop you from disappointing him.”

You tilted your head at him when he looked away.

“You idolized him, and all you wanted was to make him proud. It made things very complicated, but please don’t ever say I loved him more than you did.”

When Rafe looked at you again, there was a deep frown on his face, and for some reason, you felt very small beneath his stare.

“…but you did,” he said with a small shrug, gesturing around. “I mean, look at you.”

You blinked.

“You have to be medicated just to get some sleep, and you still don’t remember staring at the wall for days after he died.”

You felt a chill pass through you at his words, hating how much you’d let them down, but also because there was something about the way Rafe stepped towards you and held your gaze that you didn’t think you liked. It made an unsure feeling twist deep in your gut for some reason.

“So, no. I don’t want to go anywhere with Kelce and Top, not when my dad’s wife is one bad day away from a psychotic break,” he whispered. “He would want me to take care of you.”

His words were reminiscent of the same ones he’d spoken to you in Ward’s study that day, but unlike that day, today they made you feel uneasy, and you didn’t know why. You dropped your hand, taking a step back from him just as Wheezie’s voice reached your ears.

“Natalie’s mom is outside, I’ll text you when I get there,” she called as she ran through the house.

Your voice cracked when you told her to have fun, but you didn’t think she heard, the door slamming shut mid-sentence. Forcing yourself to turn away from Rafe, you grabbed a plate with shaky hands, Mrs. Thornton’s words echoing in your mind that Rafe’s new role in the household wasn’t healthy.

“I swear I’m not doing it to be a bitch, okay?” Sarah’s voice reached your ears. “It’s just really hard to be around her without thinking about dad.”

You swallowed at her words, taking a step back on the stairs,

“Especially when it’s obvious just how hard she’s taking it,” she said. “I mean, she’s a little better, sure, but those sleeping pills you give her aren’t doing a thing. She’s not tired, Rafe, she’s depressed.”

“Well, you’re making her feel like shit,” you heard him reply, a tone in his voice that you hadn’t heard in quite some time. “This is the fourth dinner you skipped out on for your Pogue boyfriend.”

The younger girl didn’t respond right away.

“I’m sorry,” you heard her eventually say. “When did you start caring about her anyway? Weren’t you the one who called her some gold-digger, saying she was coming for your spot in the will?”

That didn’t shock you nor hurt you, long imagining that Rafe had said far worse. You heard him heave a sigh, and it sounded angry.

“Dad’s gone, Sarah, and that means we should stay together as a family,” he sneered. “…and I’m doing what I can to make that happen.”

You heard a slight scuffle, and you hurriedly made your way down the stairs and towards the kitchen. It had been some time since you heard Rafe and Sarah fight, something you definitely didn’t miss, but considering the topic of this discussion, it didn’t surprise you that it was a little more emotionally charged than normal.

When you rounded the corner, Rafe had a tight grip on Sarah’s arm, the younger girl trying to leave with her purse in hand. The expression on his face was unnerving, a deep frown between his brows with his lip curled over his teeth a she got in her face.

“Things are going to be different, now.”

“Rafe.”

Sarah’s eyes were wide and terrified when she looked at you, relaxing a bit at your presence, and you were relieved when Rafe let her go. Sarah only briefly acknowledged you on her way out, desperate to get away from Rafe, and you watched the way he glared after her.

“Rafe, it’s fine,” you told him. “She’s allowed to hang out with her friends for whatever reasons she wants, especially now.”

“Are you going to use that excuse forever? Just because dad died it doesn’t mean that she can do whatever she wants,” he snapped, gesturing towards the door.

“She’s grieving!”

“She’s using it as an excuse to be a shitty daughter, and you’re just letting her.”

You reared back at both his words and his tone, and for the first time in months, you felt something like anger bubble up in your chest.

“It’s not your place to tell me how to raise her. She’s not your daughter,” you spat.

The small laugh that he let out lacked humor, and by the look on his face, you knew that there was something on the tip of his tongue that you would hate.

“Yeah, well, she’s barely yours.”

You could tell that he wanted to take it back almost as soon as he said it, and you pressed your lips together just as he touched his forehead.

“Fuck, that’s not…”

His words trailed off, and you crossed your arms over your chest. You were only thirteen years older than Sarah and knew her for all of three years, so it wasn’t like you didn’t feel the same at times, but it still hurt to hear. It’s like Rafe was voicing your worst fears that she would come to lack respect for you and your presence in her life as a mom.

You didn’t know how to do this…and everyone knew it.

“I just feel like…you’re treating her like dad did, letting her get away with everything, and I hate it,” he slowly said.

Rafe’s feelings about Sarah had never been a secret, and neither had Ward’s. You wouldn’t ever deny the fact that Ward favored her, and it was unfortunately noticeable, something that was always visibly distressing for Rafe. With Ward gone—and with Rafe feeling like he now needed to be the man of the house—this made for a very complex situation.

You couldn’t tell what was rightful concern and what was just Rafe wanting to put Sarah in her place, something he’d never been subtle about.

“I wasn’t expecting to be left raising teenagers by myself before I was even thirty, Rafe,” you finally replied. “I’m trying…”

“I know you are,” he hurried to say, quickly approaching you and reaching for you. “That’s why I’m trying to help.”

You backed away from him before he could touch you, and you didn’t miss the way his expression clouded over at that. Looking away, you swiped your tongue between your lips, choosing your next words carefully. You could feel his heated gaze burning a hole into your face.

“I get that you’re trying to help, and believe me when I say I’m so appreciative of it, Rafe, but… It is not your place,” you carefully said, looking at him again.

You watched him roll his eyes towards the ceiling, nodding to himself. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, and when his gaze fell back to you, you immediately knew that you didn’t like it. Rafe’s nostrils flared, and you didn’t need to be a mind reader to know that your words had bothered him, no matter how carefully you chose them.

“What you mean is you’re the parent, I’m not, and I need to stay in a child’s place.”

You sighed at that.

“Not necessarily, I just-.”

“…because if that were true, who would’ve driven Wheezie to school on the mornings when you couldn’t even get out of bed?”

You didn’t appreciate him throwing that in your face, and by the look in his eyes, you could tell he wasn’t done.

“You want me to stay in my place, but I’m the one who made the funeral arrangements and answered the important questions and kept this house together when the woman our dad married was too grief stricken to even stand on her own two feet.”

You bit your tongue, warily eyeing him as he moved to stand directly before you.

“Dad died, and I stepped up. Not you…me,” he firmly told you. “…and now that you’re sort of kind of getting your shit together, you just want to pretend like I should have no say in any of this.”

You didn’t like how close Rafe was, but when you went to take a step back, his hand shot out to dig into your arm, preventing you from doing so. You winced at the tight grip, and you swore you saw his face soften some at the sight. His grip certainly did, and you almost wished that it didn’t because the gentle way he held your arm and the gentle way he looked between your eyes made you deeply uncomfortable.

“Someone has to be the man of the house, now…and it falls to me,” he whispered.

You didn’t even have a proper response for that, feeling wholly unnerved as you stared at one another, and you took a deep breath.

“Let go of me, Rafe,” you quietly said.

You were relieved when he listened, almost convinced that he wouldn’t, and you touched your arm with a step back. You studied his face, searching for what? You didn’t know, but again…Mrs. Thornton’s words would not leave your mind, and you hated the way your lips trembled.

“Do not touch me like that again.”

Your tone was even, but you were sure your eyes betrayed you because Rafe merely raised an eyebrow at you.

“Or what? You’ll send me to my room?”

Your heart sank at his mocking words and the subtle challenge in them, and despite how much nicer Rafe’s next words were, they didn’t make you any less uneasy.

“I’m just trying to do right by my dad and look after everything he left behind.”

His words seemed innocent enough, but for the first time, you allowed yourself to wonder just what that entailed exactly and what role he expected to play in this family. You didn’t want your mind to linger on something that couldn’t be true, and so you left him without another word.

The feel of a hand shaking your shoulder is what pulled you from sleep, and it took you a long time to peel your eyes open. Doing so felt difficult for some reason, and when you exhaled—smelling the wine on your breath—you realized why. Rafe’s face was the one that met you, and you immediately squeezed your eyes shut.

“Y/N,” he gently said. “It’s late.”

As he said this, you realized that you were on the couch, and it didn’t take you long to surmise that you’d fallen asleep there. You didn’t want to move, but you also didn’t want to spend the rest of the night on the couch, knowing you’d regret it the moment you stood up in the morning. Just when you were about to mumble to Rafe to leave you be, you heard him sigh before feeling his arms slide underneath you.

In an effort to keep from falling, you quickly held onto him.

“Rafe,” you mumbled, disapproving.

“Wheezie has friends coming over in the morning,” you were barely able to make out. “I don’t think their moms would appreciate stumbling upon you asleep and hungover on the couch.”

He chuckled to himself as he climbed the stairs.

“They already don’t like you…”

You merely hummed at that, and you were relieved when you felt yourself being deposited onto the bed. Rafe was saying something else to you, but none of it registered as you sought out sleep once again. Your intentions were interrupted though when you felt a hand on your face, and even in your inebriated state, you knew it didn’t feel right. Forcing your eyes open, you struggled to push Rafe’s hand away.

“I just want to make sure you don’t throw up in your sleep,” he mumbled when your eyes blearily met his. “Is that okay?”

You drunkenly blinked at him, lips trembling.

“Why don’t you call me ‘mom’?”

Your question was whispered, voice shaky, and as much as you wanted him out of your bedroom, you also wanted him to answer the question. The house was quiet, both Wheezie and Sarah asleep, and the only light was that of the light in the hall. You didn’t take your eyes off of Rafe as you waited for him to answer no matter how much you wanted to.

In the low lighting, you could see the way his dirty blond hair hung onto his forehead, the light glinting off of his blue eyes.

“I never have,” was his response.

“Well, maybe you should,” you forced out. “I don’t want you saying my name anymore.”

You didn’t miss the way his nostrils flared at that.

“Why not?”

“…because I don’t like it,” you confessed, tears kissing your eyes. “Not anymore.”

His face fell a bit at the way your voice cracked, and when he reached for you again, you hurriedly sat up.

The silence was loud as you just stared at each other, something unspoken passing between you. You felt like you wanted to crawl out of your own skin whenever he so much as looked at you, now, thoughts running wild with what you prayed to be untrue. His stony expression told you that they weren’t, that he’d been found out, and in your drunken state, you couldn’t stop your tears from spilling over.

When he reached for you again, it startled you right off of the bed.

The night stand shook as you fell against it, and you cried out in pain just as Rafe cursed. You didn’t want his help, but that didn’t mean that you didn’t need it as he hurried to reach you. The feel of his hands on you burned and not in a good way, causing you to flinch away from his touch. That didn’t deter him though, and his grip was tight as he kept you in place, his other hand reaching for your head.

“Did you hit your head? Are you-?”

“Don’t touch me,” you hissed, shoving at his chest, and Rafe grew quiet.

The only sound for a while was your soft sobs, and Rafe’s refusal to leave you alone kept him kneeling before you. When you tried to stand up, he ignored your protests, reaching out and helping you. You swayed, and Rafe kept you close much to your chagrin. You wanted him gone as soon as possible, so you were quick to sit back down, but Rafe didn’t let your waist or your hand go.

Swooping down, he captured your lips in a kiss.

You wanted to gag.

His hand was almost painfully twisted around yours, making you wince, and every attempt to scoot back was only met with the resistance of his hand on your waist. Your stomach churned as he moved his mouth against yours, wanting to be sick at the feel of him kissing you on the same bed where Ward used to sleep. When his fingers dipped beneath your shirt, you bit him.

Hard.

You took the moment to remove yourself as he cried out, hurrying towards the bathroom and locking yourself inside. That awful sick feeling wasn’t as hollow as you thought, your knees hitting the floor almost as soon as you made it inside, head bent in the toilet. You couldn’t stop crying as you emptied your stomach, throat scratchy from the alcohol that was coming back up.

When you were able to catch your breath, you were shaking. You could still feel Rafe’s lips on yours, and on top of everything else you were forced to deal with in the months following your husband’s death, this was the last thing you’d ever anticipated.

You’d slept on the bathroom floor that night, refusing to leave and face Rafe. If Sarah and Wheezie noticed the tension between the two of you, they didn’t comment on it or at the very least, not to you. The knowledge that Rafe wanted to take Ward’s place in every facet of the household made you sick, and while neither of you mentioned that night, it also felt clear between the two of you that it wouldn’t be ignored forever.

You wanted him out of the house.

…but that wasn’t your place, was it? Rafe had more of a right to all of this way more than you did, and you couldn’t be the one to leave. Rafe may have been nineteen and an adult in the eyes of the law, but no matter how much of a 180 he’d done, you couldn’t trust him to properly raise Wheezie and Sarah. Especially now that you knew his 180 had less to do with just wanting to be a better person or more about taking on the role Ward had played in every way.

You shuddered at the thought, and oddly enough, this tempted you to drink yourself into a stupor more than Ward’s death ever did.

You and Rafe were ten years apart, so seeing him like a son had always been hard at times, but it didn’t stop you from treating him like one in the years that you’d been with his father. You’d liked to think that the sentiment was returned, and maybe at one time it had been, and maybe after Ward’s death things just…changed.

Was this your fault?

Had you dropped the ball so hard that he couldn’t even bring himself to see you as a parental figure anymore? Did he stop trying to respect you as one or…? Or did it have to do with how much he’d had to take care of you? You didn’t treat him any different, talk to him any different, so maybe you hadn’t done anything to change his perception of you.

Even if you had…what could you possibly have done to make him see you as a potential partner?

As if your nights weren’t bad enough—haunted by memories of Ward and that day you’d been told he was dead—you were now also kept awake by the knowledge that your stepson very much wanted to fill the void left by his father. And maybe if Rafe were anyone else, you could’ve talked about this, tried to sort through this, but Rafe was Rafe, and you reminded yourself that the Rafe you were accustomed to had only disappeared less than six months ago.

…and you’d seen hints of him just peeking from below the surface.

You resisted the urge to drink these days, positive that one sip would have you spiraling. You didn’t know how to cope with this new development, but you knew it couldn’t be that way. It didn’t go unnoticed that the night Rafe kissed you, you’d been drunk out of your mind, completely vulnerable to him. You also couldn’t bring yourself to take anymore sleeping pills, recalling Sarah’s words that day as she’d told Rafe that you were depressed…not tired.

She was right.

…and so despite the difficulty, you forced yourself to try and sleep without medication night after night. It was hard for several reasons, the most pressing of which being the unnerving presence of the nineteen-year-old just down the hall. It made it hard to find sleep most nights, and on the nights in which you did, you still do so with only maybe four hours to your name.

It was noticeable.

“I can stay and help, you know. It’s just John B., and he’ll understand why I’m late,” Sarah offered.

You could see by the look on her face that she was worried about you, and despite your attempt, you knew that your reassuring smile didn’t convince her.

“Sarah, it’s a Saturday night,” you told her. “I’m not going to make you stay and help me clean the kitchen, especially when you helped me cook and stayed for dinner.”

She looked like she wanted to argue but decided against it.

“Yeah, I’m glad I did.”

Her tone told you that she was feeling bad about the other dinners she’d skipped out on, and you were proven right.

“I’m sorry about not staying for all the others and…basically avoiding you,” she quietly apologized. “It’s just that Ward cared about you a lot, and when I’m around you, it’s easy to see why…and it just makes me think about him.”

You only exhaled at that, letting out a small chuckle as you washed the dishes.

“You don’t have to apologize, Sarah. I get it,” you whispered, pausing. “I miss him too.”

“Yeah, well, he’s an asshole, but Rafe was kind of right in confronting me over my behavior.”

The mention of Rafe had your hairs standing on end, and you swallowed down a sigh, still unsure what you were going to do about the blond.

“There were better ways for him to get his point across…”

Sarah only found that funny, softly laughing to herself.

“Yeah, but he wouldn’t be Rafe if he didn’t be rude about it, so,” she trailed off, pushing away from the counter. “I’ll be back before 1.”

You hummed at that, letting her know that was okay, and it was only ten minutes later that you were alone. Wheezie went to a sleepover just after dinner, and Rafe hadn’t been home all day. Before where that would have concerned you, now you could only be relieved to get some reprieve from the oldest Cameron. God knows that you needed the space to think.

Going over every scenario in your mind, the best one seemed to be to hope that it would just go away. You didn’t want to find yourself in some sort of legal battle if you even attempted to kick Rafe out and basically bar him from his own home. Legality of it all aside, it just wasn’t morally right. This was where he grew up, his safe space, and you couldn’t even pretend to feel comfortable at the thought.

The other option just wasn’t even an option. Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t just pack up and abandon Wheezie and Sarah. Never mind the fact that you’d been in their lives for three years now, but now more than ever they needed stability. Their father only just died, and what kind of person would you be if you decided you just didn’t want to be responsible for them anymore? Allowing Rafe to run you off wasn’t an option.

Besides, there was a tiny and terrifying voice in the back of your head anyway that said he wouldn’t even let you.

It was an hour later that you found yourself in bed after cleaning the kitchen and taking a bath. You needed the soak, needed to do whatever you could to relax you. It wasn’t even ten o’clock, but considering how hard sleep was for you to find lately, you figured there was no harm in letting your head hit the pillow early.

Maybe you could trick your body into going to sleep at a decent time.

The minutes dragged on and were made to feel like hours, but the silence of the house and the fact that you were alone did more wonders than you thought. You could feel your eyelids becoming heavy, and what little sounds you could make out from outside slowly started to fade. The last thing you recalled was your body feeling heavier…

…and then you were standing in front of Shoupe, and he was telling you that Ward was dead, and you couldn’t even stand on your feet anymore.

You sat up with a gasp, struggling to breathe, and by the way your vision blurred, you knew that you’d been crying in your sleep. There was a voice in your ear shushing you, and despite the fact that you knew who the hands on your arms belonged to, your mind was too preoccupied with painful memories to fully register it.

Rafe pulled you against him, holding you to him as you sobbed, thinking to yourself that it had been a few weeks since you’d had a really bad reaction. You shook in his hold, head bowed as you wailed, and you were momentarily grateful that the house was empty. The blond rocked you, forcing you to press your face into the crook of his neck, and it was only then that you registered the smell of alcohol.

Before you could gather yourself to ask Rafe where he’d been, his hands were clumsily grasping at your face.

You sharply inhaled when he kissed you…again. You could taste the alcohol on his tongue, and you were so distraught that it took you too long to realize what was happening. The kiss was hungry, Rafe tasting the inside of your mouth and kissing you in a way that might’ve taken your breath away under different circumstances.

As it were, you could only register that you were being kissed by your deceased husband’s son again. It made your stomach twist uncomfortably, and your efforts to reach up and pull his hands away from your face were futile. You made a noise of protest, attempting to lean away, but he ignored it. Even when you bit at him like before, he ignored it.

With horror, you realized that Rafe wasn’t stopping it.

Panic began to set in, and when you shoved at his chest, he quickly reached to close his hand around your wrist. At the same time, he leaned into you more, forcing you back, and you didn’t put your hand down in time to prevent that. With him now on top of you, your heart was threatening to leap from your chest.

“Rafe,” you gasped when he pulled away. “Rafe, stop!”

Your voice came out panicked and shrill, but instead of listening to you, the sounds were only joined by that of your shorts ripping.

“He would want me to look after you,” he drunkenly murmured, making your stomach drop.

You both fought for the right to your shirt, you trying to keep it on and Rafe trying to take it off. You felt like you were on the verge of a panic attack, telling yourself that this wasn’t happening. In the worst way possible, you discovered that Rafe was much stronger than he looked, feeling like you got the wind knocked out of you when he roughly shoved you down after your attempt to sit up.

You could hear yourself crying, and you knew that Rafe could too.

With a hand tightly snaking around your throat, his other fumbled to get his own pants off. Focused on trying to breathe, you reached up to pull at his hand. You could hear a ringing in your ears, and your chest felt tighter than it did when you first woke up from your nightmare. His lower half was pinning you down, and the blood you could feel yourself drawing on his hand and arm didn’t slow him down.

He was shushing you when you felt his skin against yours, and one of your hands twisted into his shirt as he started to push himself into you. The feel had your feet stretching, and you let out a choked sound despite the pressure on your throat. He was torturously slow in stretching you out around him, and with every further push of his hips, you clawed at his shirt some more.

He only let your neck go when his hips were firmly pressed against yours.

As you coughed and wheezed, he reached behind his head to pull the fabric off, tossing it somewhere without a car. The moment his chest was bare, he reached for you again despite your difficulty to breathe, and his lips covered yours in another kiss. You didn’t even have time to register the kiss because he was thrusting into you with abandon. His hips were wildly snapping against yours, and you gasped into his mouth.

Rafe searched for your hands, threading his fingers through your own and pinning it against the bed next to your head. His other hand was digging into your hips, kipping them in place as he fucked you. You struggled to catch your breath, sharply inhaling and gasping with every thrust. The stretch was unfamiliar, and your mind spun with the fact that you hadn’t experienced this in months and also who it was with.

When Rafe pulled his lips away from yours, you let out a sob, and he gently shushed you, curving his hips into yours.

“Let me take care of you,” he murmured in the darkness. “It’s okay.”

You had so much you wanted to scream and shout at the blond, but you couldn’t even find the words. With every feeling of his cock sliding against your walls, your eyes rolled. His head fell next to yours, his heavy breathing in your ear as he pinned you down with his entire body. You weren’t able to move, only forced to lie beneath him and feel what he was doing to you.

He grunted in your ear with a particularly hard thrust, and you let out a yelp.

Just then, you heard the door open downstairs, and hearing it too, Rafe stopped. He was quick to cover your mouth with a hand, and he was completely still as you heard who you surmised was Sarah coming up the stairs. Your heart was so heavy in your chest, and it was all you could hear in your ears.

When she made it to the hallway, she stopped.

“Y/N, are you asleep?” she called.

At that, Rafe pressed down harder on both your mouth and you, and after a few moments, you heard the younger girl sigh. When the sound of her room door shutting reached your ears, Rafe kept his hand on your mouth, but he felt compelled to keep fucking you.

He was slow in doing so, now, and you squeezed your eyes shut.

He slowly dragged his cock in and out of you, pulling his hips back until just the tip remained—sometimes pulling out completely—before pushing back in and making your chest arch up into his. He quietly told you that it was okay, softly groaning as you unintentionally squeezed him. Rafe’s lips brushed against your neck and jaw, and now that the two of you were no longer alone, the room was deathly quiet.

So quiet that you could hear the sound of his cock plunging into you.

It was a sound that embarrassed you, a sound that made you want to cry. Rafe’s arms trembled as he fought to keep himself from just relaxing on top of you completely, and you didn’t have the heart to tell him that if he uncovered your mouth, you wouldn’t even scream. You would be too ashamed to let anyone know what Rafe Cameron was doing to you.

With his lips at your neck, you could feel them move as he talked.

“My dad’s gone…”

The mention of Ward in this moment made more tears spill over, and when he slowly removed his hand, you let out a shaky breath as you silently cried. Lifting his head, Rafe’s gaze found yours, his hips still slowly pushing against yours.

“…and I know that it’s killing you, but…”

He swallowed, looking between your eyes.

“…but you have me, now,” you let out a soft cry at that. “You do, and I’m…I’m going to take care of you.”

His hand reached up to touch your face, the tips of his fingers grazing your wet cheek. You shook your head, feeling like you were going to be sick, and Rafe only shushed you. His lips followed yours as you attempted to turn your head away, and you could taste your tears in the kiss.

“I’ve got the business…I’ve got the family ring…” his lips moved against yours as he spoke into the kiss. “…and I’ve got you.”

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #dark!rafe cameron #dark!rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron imagine #obx #outer banks #obx fanfiction #obx imagine #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks imagine

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invisible-lint · 12 days

Text

Everything Could Be Okay: Chapter 1

Rhys x Tamlin's sister!reader

Summary: Tamlin has sent Feyre away. Emotions follow

Warnings: more angst. Allusions to Under the Mountain happenings, but not in much detail

Word Count: 1.2k

Prologue Chapter 2

You rush into the manor, hoping that you can get far enough away before the emotion churning in your chest consumes you. You couldn’t be the supportive sister you supposed Tamlin wanted you to be right now, weren’t sure you thought it was what he deserved. After all, it was his fault that the human he loved was leaving. It was his fault that you were all doomed to be taken Under the Mountain. It was his fault that Andras’ death was now for nothing. So no, you decide, he does not deserve your pity.

You manage to stumble your way into your bedroom, tears stinging in your eyes, burning your throat. You yank a pillow off the bed, burying your face into it before you scream, letting the emotion overwhelm you. You are angry, so angry that you ignore the knocking on your door. How could Tamlin do this? Sacrifice everyone and everything for his human love. Does he know how much it stings? His betrayal? That his love was enough was enough to save her. But you, your love? That was not enough to save Andras. You fling yourself onto the bed. This is where you will stay until they come to drag you all down Under the Mountain, you don’t care anymore. There’s nothing left for you to care about.

You wander the hall, ignoring the chill that hasn’t left your bones the entire time down here, no matter what you did. You didn’t sleep, finding it nearly impossible to. It had only been a few nights spent under the mountain, but already what you had seen haunted you every time you closed your eyes. You think of what Andras had said that day in the forest, about wanting to save you. If only he could see how ruined you were now. Would he be as angry with your brother as you are? You suppose, the one relief is that he is not here with you. You would not wish him here in this place even now as loneliness echoes in your soul. You aren’t thinking about where your body is taking you, only stopping as you nearly collide with the male in front of you. Your sudden stop has you nearly tipping off balance, and he reaches a hand out, steadying you. You look up at him, your own eyes meeting his violet ones.

“You shouldn’t roam by yourself at night. It’s not safe.”

“Yes, well you would know all about that, wouldn’t you, Rhysand?” you question, voice as icy as you feel.

He ignores the jab, directing you towards your room. “Allow me to escort you.”

You say nothing, following as he guides you. You say nothing as he directs you to the armchair and waves a hand, a fire springing to life in the hearth. You remain silent until he’s about to leave the room.

“Why did you leave me there?” He turns to you, eyes filled with confusion.

“The night you came to Spring and killed my father and brothers. I followed you out to the garden and begged you to either take me with you or kill me too. But you just left me there. Why?”

Your eyes meet his, filled with so much grief and pain, and he finds himself wondering what you went through before you found yourself down here. You stand, crossing to him, angry at the tears that sting your eyes.

“It would have been wrong.”

You choke out a bitter laugh. “And look at me now. I would have been better off.”

He’s not sure why he does it, but he brushes past your wards with ease, helping your troubled mind find unconsciousness, catching you as you crumple. He tucks you into bed, brushing hair back from your face and tucking it behind your ear, bringing kinder memories to the front of your mind, helping you find pleasant dreams for once.

He tries to find you again the next few nights, uncertain of why he feels so suddenly drawn to you. But he remains unlucky, as if you're avoiding him as hard as he's trying to find you.

It’s shortly after that Feyre finds her way Under the Mountain to rescue Tamlin. You aren’t sure how you feel, but there's one thing you know for certain. You will do anything within your power to help her. To make Andras’ death mean something. You find her the night after, a spare blanket and food hidden underneath your cloak. You see him again as you make your way to the cells, eyes meeting his across the distance before hurrying away.

You enter the cell and take in the sight of the human woman in front of you, holding a finger to your lips as you cross over to her, kneeling at her side, healing her. You give her the food and the blanket. She tries apologizing for Andras once more, but you shush her, shaking your head.

“You are not the one I am angry with. You are not the one who needs to apologize. I can understand why you… did what you did.” She looks almost surprised. “I will help you however I can without interfering. I will help you beat her, for Andras.” She smiles and you find yourself smiling too, the movement feeling odd after so much time.

You rush to the cells, hoping you are not too late. You enter as Rhysand exits and Feyre looks at you.

“I tried to wait for you to come. You said you would come. But a human can die so quickly from that kind of thing and I-”

You interrupt her, dropping to your knees beside her, pulling her into a tight hug, choking back a sob. “I was just worried that I was too late and you were already dead. I don’t care what bargain you made with him. It saved your life, and when we get out of here, I will face it with you. You are too important Feyre.” She tells you of the bargain, and you smile. “You know, I have always wanted to see the Night Court.”

More time has passed and Feyre has beaten the trials. You watch in horror, unable to intervene, frozen to the spot, as Amarantha hurts Feyre, wishing you could fight for her. You glare at your brother, cursing him for not fighting for her. Why can’t he fight for her the way you already had? Why had he given up so easily? You gasp as Feyre answers the riddle and the mask falls from your face. You step forward as Amarantha snaps Feyre’s neck, wanting to do something, anything. You watch as finally, Tamlin does something, killing her, ripping her throat out. You sink to your knees, unable to help the relief that floods your veins along with the grief. Amarantha was dead and that meant that your husband’s death would finally mean something. That you had not lost everything for nothing.

You watch on as the High Lords all revive Feyre, bringing her back as a fae. You ignore the purple-eyed male staring at you and whatever it is you feel pulling you to him. There would be time to worry about that later, but for now, you find yourself at Feyre's other side, realizing that although you had lost so much, there were things you had gained too.

A/N: And there it is! Not feeling great about this one, but everytime I tried fixing it I found myself writing the next parts, so here it is! Requests are open, so feel free to send some in! I'd love to write some one shots too!

divider is by @tsunami-of-tears

taglist: @lilah-asteria @readingislife2006 @acourtofimagines @mistymoocow @irelanrose

#rhysand x reader #rhys x reader #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar fic #acotar imagine #acotar x reader #acotar x you #maasverse #imagine

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imaniwriting · 5 months

Note

Season 2 rafe when he has to leave his love reader to go live somewhere else because if wards 'death' and so he calls insomnia!reader at night and talks with her ti make her go to sleep and the pouges listen in on there conversation because they were accidentally hiding in his room?? Sorry if it doesn't make sense 😭

(Some requests got deleted and i don't remember them well enough to still write the imagine)

𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐬 (requests are open)

Warnings : swearing

Summary : when rafe left, you realized that it wasn’t the pills that cured your insomnia it was rafe

Genre : fluff

Ever since rafe left you could not sleep. It wasn’t that you weren’t tired, no rather the opposite every part of your body begged for rest but your brain didn’t grant those wishes.

Only now had you realized that Rafe was the reason you slept so good. The way his arms were wrapped around you or the way you were close enough to hear his heart beat was the reason you could sleep.

But now all these things were gone, his scent, his kisses, his hugs maybe never coming back. You hit your head against the pillow hoping that maybe something in your head would move and you would fall asleep. But it didn’t and you were left to stare at the ceiling.

Then your phone started ringing making you flinch since it was so quiet only the sound of the waves hitting shore. “Fucking hell” you groaned sitting up in your queen sized bed.

You picked up your phone and put on your glasses the one you only used when it was night since you didn't like the way you looked with them.

You picked up the call with a smile after seeing the callers id and not long after Rafe’s face popped up on the screen “hi” you breathed out after seeing him smile at you through the screen.

“You have your glasses on!” He exclaimed laughing when you just stared at him he apologized and stared at you through the screen. “God i fucking miss you already.” He admitted he would never do so in front of anybody else but you were different.

“He’s whipped” whispered JJ from his place in the walk in closet the pouges all were stuffed into when they saw rafe entering the room. Sarah nodded she knew her brother he would never in a thousand years admit affection for someone.

“So what are you doing Mr. Cameron why are you still awake? You asked curiously while laying back down on her bed. Rafe shook his head “im awake because i know you can’t sleep and that you most likely wont until i help you to” he explained getting comfortable on his bed.

“Well i would love to tell you, you are wrong but sadly you aren’t.” You replied sighing. ”didn't know y/n needed help sleeping” john b piped up leaning his head against the wall. Even though he was nervous about the whole being in Rafe Cameron’s closet thing he found it quite amusing.

“Did you at least try and take your pill’s?” He asked softly seeing the tired look on her face. “You just want me to fucking tell you that I can’t sleep without you do you Rafe?”

“Maybe” he said smiling slightly you were the only person that could read him. You let out a yawn which made Rafe smile harder he knew that this was the first stage now he only had to tell you random stories about his life before you and you’ll sleep.

”dude this is actually impressive” whispered Pope making JJ frown at him “what the fact that she starts getting tired?” He asked making pope shake his head “well not exactly that but it takes a lot to make a insomniac sleepy by just talking to them” he explained

“Baby, how was your day?” You asked running your hand through your hair. And with that Rafe started talking about how he missed you and how his day looked like without you. At the end you were fast asleep and the pouges were also trying not to fall asleep. It was after all almost 3 am.

“Good night baby i have to take care of something” rafe whispered hanging up and then he stood up walking over to the walk in closet already knowing what was waiting on him on the other side.

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cloakedsparrow · 22 days

Text

Commissioner Jim Gordon figured out Bruce Wayne was Batman early on in their partnership but he needed all the help he could get cleaning up Gotham, so he figured he’d let it go as long as he maintained plausible deniability and as long as Batman didn’t do anything too reckless or damning (like killing someone or getting a civilian killed).

He could tell that Batman genuinely wanted to help and he honestly grew to respect him, so he decided if it ever looked like he needed to pull the plug on Batman, he could just quietly inform him that he knew his identity but he wouldn’t have to pursue it if he just stopped.

He almost did just that when Robin entered the picture. Because that was not a grown man with training and intellect in a combat-ready suit. That was a child in a leotard and pixie boots. Of course, Robin was obviously Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne’s new ward. And, yeah, the kid was a remarkably gifted acrobat, but still. What the fuck was Batman thinking?

A few captured crooks and a couple overheard conversations later and Gordon realized that this was Bruce attempting to reign in Dick. He decided he’d let it go for a while and see if the situation didn’t just take care of itself.

It did, but not in the way Gordon had assumed, where Bruce eventually got Dick to stop. Instead, the kid turned out to be a brilliant vigilante. So as much as the idea of a kid fighting criminals in a leotard upset him, Gordon decided to let it go as long as the boy seemed more or less safe (and also didn’t cross certain lines).

Then Batgirl appears and Gordon is even more concerned because Batman also doesn’t seem to know who this girl is. That’s concerning. She’s wearing his symbol. One fuck up from her could ruin everything Batman (and Gordon) have built. All the goodwill with the non-corrupt detectives and citizens of Gotham could be destroyed overnight. There’s no way to prove she has nothing to do with Batman shy of unmasking one or the other or both.

So Gordon decides to look into Batgirl, because that’s the lesser of two evils at this point, and it turns out she’s his daughter. Because of course Barbara would do something like this. Fuck his life.

Then Nightwing enters the picture. Before Gordon can worry about this new vigilante too much, Nightwing shows him the cute little deputy badge he’d given Robin and repeats some of his own words back to him, proving Nightwing is Dick Grayson. Which, good for him. At least he came up with a better suit. Gordon hadn’t wanted to say anything, but he’d been getting a little too old for the pixie boots.

Then there’s a new Robin, which is obviously Bruce Wayne’s newly adopted son, Jason Todd. Barbara is still acting as Batgirl, so Gordon figures he doesn’t have any room to be judgmental of Batman’s parenting choices at this point. At least Batman keeps his kid with him while he’s fighting crime. It’s more than Gordon can claim.

Then, the worst comes to pass. Jason Todd dies.

Batman tried to kill the Joker, so there’s no point in guessing how that happened. Gordon feels terrible. He feels even worse when Batman is clearly losing it and, as much as he understands (Barbara could have been killed instead of crippled, and just for answering her father’s door), he can’t let it continue. He’s going to have to show his hand and threaten Bruce Wayne.

As if by some miracle, Batman starts getting better before he has to act. Gordon assumed he’d either sought help or just worked through the worst phase of his grief…until another Robin shows up.

The kid is wearing a different suit that covers (protects) more of him. He’s constantly perched on something so Gordon can’t get a definite estimation of his height. The hair could always be dyed or a wig. Overall, there’s not much to go on identity-wise. It’s certainly not Jason Todd after faking his death or being revived somehow (it’s Gotham, stranger things have happened). This is definitely a different kid. He’s smaller, younger, paler, and he doesn’t move or sound like either of the previous Boy Wonders.

Bruce Wayne does not have another son. He does not have another ward. No nephew or godson or the like. So who the fuck is this kid?!

The new kid is really good. Batman is doing really good with him. Gordon would be very happy with this progress except that he still has no idea where the kid came from. He’s taken to going over missing person reports, but it’s Gotham (there’s a lot) and he doesn’t even have a decent description of the new Robin to work with.

He tried saying something to Robin once, after Batman ditched them on the roof of GCPD. The kid had stopped him and told him that he’d given the adults their chance to fix it but they didn’t, so he’s taking care of it now. Then the unknown child jumped off the roof and fired off a grapple to follow Batman. Gordon has no idea what to make of that but he feels like he should be a little ashamed, at least.

After what feels like a year of mental torment, Janet Drake is murdered and Jack Drake is left in a coma that he may or may not recover from. Then Gordon learns that Bruce Wayne has quietly assumed custody of their son, Tim Drake.

There is no paper trail of any kind between the Drakes and Bruce Wayne. If the Drake boy is Robin, then Gordon has no idea how that came to be. If he isn’t Robin, then he still has no idea who the current Boy Wonder is.

The mystery of this particular Robin will continue to haunt him for years.

Bruce loses custody of the Drake boy, but there doesn’t appear to be any change in Batman and Robin.

Suddenly, Robin is gone with no explanation and there’s a girl in the role for a couple weeks but then she’s fired and starts a gang war that claims thousands of lives including, apparently, her own. Then maybe-Tim-Drake-maybe-not Robin is back.

Bruce takes permanent custody of the Drake boy, and there still doesn’t appear to be any change in Batman and Robin.

Then there’s a new suit but it appears to be the same Robin, just sadder. Then Bruce Wayne’s biological son shows up and, lo and behold, there’s a new Robin. With a chip on his shoulder the size of Wayne Manor and a fucking sword. Gordon actually misses the Robin that had been confusing the hell out of him for the past several years.

Then there’s a Red Robin. Then he's gone and there’s two very different Robins operating at the same time. Gordon’s pretty sure the one that isn’t Damian Wayne is the one that’s been a constant source of headaches and nicotine cravings for the past four years, but he still can’t be sure who the little shit is.

#dc #comics #ficlet #fanfiction #bat family #commissioner gordon #jim gordon #bruce wayne #batman #robin #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #tim wayne #damian wayne #barbara gordon #batgirl #oracle #stephanie brown

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vanteguccir · 5 days

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Over Again | Chris Sturniolo

Chris Sturniolo x reader

Summary: Y/N is caught between the past and the present, struggling to overcome her love for Chris while trying to move on with Alex, a kind and understanding man. When Chris reappears in her life, Y/N is forced to confront her feelings and make difficult decisions.

Warning: Crying, angst/comfort with a happy ending.

Requested?: Yes, by @ecliphttlunar and @sturniolohisteric

Author's note: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

Ever since she was a teenager, Y/N had always wondered what death would feel like. Those who have experienced it are not here to tell stories of it. Would it be painful? Would she feel it squeeze her heart with its dark touch, or would she sigh for the last time in her sleep, letting the darkness take her without noticing the transition?

But now, for her, death was not the last breath escaping her lungs, nor the melodic sound of machines beside her body in a hospital room. It was something that drowned her from the inside out.

His style is infused throughout her closet, his smile carved into the Polaroids she's kept as memories for years. She could still hear his voice, everywhere, in the people passing by on the street, the same Boston accent fresh in her mind.

Dying was not a singular event but a collection of small moments, of broken promises and shattered hopes.

Y/N wondered if she would ever be able to erase those memories, or if his shadow would always be there, an inescapable presence around every corner, in every look.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The city skyline, jagged and imposing, reflected in the windows of the triplets' Los Angeles home. The rooms were simple, modern and decorated perfectly to suit their personalities, but they seemed cold and impersonal at that moment, devoid of the warmth that once marked their lives with Y/N, but especially that of one person, Chris. It had been six months since they broke up, but Y/N's absence permeated the air, a ghost haunting every corner.

Chris was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at the framed photograph on the nightstand. It was an old picture of him and Y/N, taken during a trip to the coast where they were celebrating their two years together. Their smiles were wide and genuine, their arms wrapped in a tight hug. The sea breeze had tousled her hair, and her eyes shone with unspoken promises. Now, it seemed like a lifetime ago, a different era when happiness seemed to last forever.

He sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair. Emma, his current girlfriend - or not anymore -, had left a few hours ago after a tense homemade dinner. They had been together for a few months now, but the connection felt forced, artificial. He tried to be present, to participate, but his mind always went back to Y/N. The laughter at the simplest jokes, the comfort of touch, the silent understanding that flowed between them effortlessly. With Y/N, he felt complete, understood, at home.

Meanwhile, across town, Y/N stood on the balcony of her new apartment, the city lights casting a soft glow on her face. She had also started seeing someone, Alex, a kind and patient soul who seemed to genuinely care. But try as he might, Y/N couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing.

Alex was wonderful, but he wasn't Chris.

The memories of her time with Chris were a constant, painful reminder of what she had lost.

Y/N crossed her arms around herself, trying to ward off the cold that didn't just come from the cool night air. She remembered the nights spent in Chris's arms, the way he held her close, her back pressed firmly against his chest covered in Fresh Love's hoodies, his heartbeat sounding like a comforting beat against her ear. Those nights were full of whispered confessions and shared dreams, a sanctuary of intimacy that now seemed so far away.

Y/N wandered into the living room, unable to bear the sight of the painful memories any longer, it was comical how she could almost hear his loud laughter and whispered promises of love against her ears.

The girl poured herself a drink, hoping it would ease the pain, but she knew better. Alcohol might provide a temporary distraction, but it would never fill the void Chris had left.

She wondered if he thought about her, if he missed her as much as she missed him.

As the night grew darker, both Chris and Y/N found themselves reaching for the phone, the desire to hear the other's voice almost unbearable. But they stopped themselves, knowing it wouldn't change anything.

They really tried to move on and build new lives apart, but their hearts still belonged to each other. It was a cruel irony, to be so close and yet so far away, to love so deeply and yet be unable to be together.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The next day, Chris met Emma for lunch after fighting hard against Nick and Matt's complaints. He had to apologize and put an end on it.

She talked excitedly about her day, her eyes shining with excitement. Chris was smiling and nodding, but his thoughts were miles away. He wondered what Y/N was doing, if she was having lunch at her favorite Italian restaurant at that moment, if she was accompanied or alone, if maybe she found someone who made her feel complete again.

He felt a pang of guilt, knowing that Emma deserved someone who could give her all her attention, someone who wasn't haunted by the past.

It was not necessary to note that Emma soon noticed, again, his mental absence. A fervent discussion installed itself between both bodies, where Chris just nodded, knowing that he was on the wrong end, keeping his eyes down.

The boy left the restaurant without a girlfriend.

Meanwhile, Y/N was in a coffee shop with Alex, who was explaining a new project at work. She tried to focus, to be present, but her mind kept going back to Chris. She remembered how Chris listened intently to her, his eyes never leaving hers, making her feel like she was the only living person in the world.

With Alex, it was different. He was kind and caring, but there was no spark. There was no magic.

She felt suffocated.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Days turned into weeks, and both Chris and Y/N continued their charade, pretending that they were fine, that they had moved on. But in the quiet moments, when they were alone with their thoughts, the truth was inescapable. They were still in love, still yearning for each other, still incomplete. Their new lifes seemed like shadows, pale imitations of what they had shared.

One night, Chris was sitting by the huge window in the living room, looking out onto the sparsely populated street, feeling the emptiness in his heart almost suffocating him.

The boy fished his phone out of the front pocket of his hoodie, his finger hovering over Y/N's name. Should he call? Would it make any difference? He hesitated, torn between his desire and his fear of rejection.

Across the city, Y/N was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. Alex had kissed her goodnight and quickly fallen asleep, but Y/N was wide awake. Her eyes, which roamed the darkness of the room tirelessly, found her cell on the bedside table, thinking for long seconds before picking it up, her heart pounding.

Her fingers scrolled through old messages from Chris, the words a bittersweet reminder of their love. She wanted to send a text, to say something, anything, to bridge the gap that had grown between them. But doubt gnawed at her.

What if Chris had moved on? What if her text only opened old wounds?

At that moment, as if guided by some invisible force, both Chris and Y/N decided to connect.

Chris took a deep breath and dialed Y/N's number, his heart racing with each ring. At the same time, Y/N typed a short, halting text: "I miss you."

The phone rang twice before Y/N's screen lit up with Chris' name. Her breath caught in her throat as she processed what she was seeing before sliding her thumb over the green button.

"Chris?"

"Y/N." He said softly, relief filling his voice.

Y/N's eyes filled with tears upon hearing the voice that her ears had begged to hear again. Her eyes darted briefly towards Alex before she slowly got up from her own bed, walking out of the room stealthily, towards the balcony.

"I was about to text you." The girl's voice came out in a timid whisper, her free hand curling into a fist of anxiety. "I miss you, Chris."

"I miss you too. Every day, every moment. Being without you… feels wrong." Chris let out a shaky laugh, a mixture of joy and pain.

They fell silent, the weight of their words hanging in the air. It was a painful truth they had been avoiding, but now it was exposed.

"Chris, do you think we made a mistake?" Y/N asked after long minutes of listening to his breathing on the other side, her voice shaking.

"I think about it every day." He admitted. "We thought we were doing the right thing, giving each other space, but all I felt was emptiness. Nothing and no one compares to you, Y/N."

"Oh, Chris." Tears streamed down Y/N's face, her teeth gripping her bottom lip in a death grip in an attempt to hold back the sobs.

"Can I see you?"

"Now? Chris, I... Alex is with me." Y/N shook her head, even though she knew he couldn't see her, sniffling as her fingers pressed her eyes lightly, trying to ease the tears.

"Right, Alex..."

Chris was silent for a moment, processing the situation. His mind was in turmoil, but the need to see her, to be with her, was overwhelming. He knew he couldn't wait any longer, that every moment away from her was torment.

"I understand." He said finally, clearing his throat awkwardly, trying to keep his voice steady. "But... Can we talk in person tomorrow? I really need to talk to you."

Y/N nodded. She knew they had to. Ignoring her feelings wouldn't get them anywhere. It would only hurt them more.

"I know. Can we meet tomorrow? Maybe at our place?"

Our place. The little cafe where they spent so many mornings together, laughing and planning the future. Chris's heart skipped a beat when he heard those words.

"Yes, of course. Tomorrow at ten?"

"It's a date." Y/N replied softly, feeling a mix of anxiety and hope.

After hanging up the call, Y/N remained sitting on the balcony, her mind rushing. Chris's words echoed in her head, and she knew she had to make a difficult decision. She looked inside the apartment, where Alex was sleeping peacefully, oblivious to the internal conflict she was facing.

After a few minutes, the girl took a deep breath and returned to her room. She sat in the corner armchair, hugging her knees and watching her casual date sleep. He seemed so calm, so serene, which made her feel a weight in her heart, the last thing she wanted to do was hurt him, but she knew she was already doing it just by being with him.

The hours passed slowly. Y/N couldn't sleep, anxiety gnawing at her insides as her fingers moved against each other frantically. Her thoughts were a tangle of memories, doubts, and hopes. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Chris's face, felt his touch, and heard his voice. And that made her more awake than ever.

Around seven in the morning, Alex started to move. He turned over in bed, ready to get up, looking for Y/N next to himself. When he didn't find her body, he opened his eyes slowly, blinking to adjust to the low light in the room, a consequence of the sun that invaded through the cracks in the white aluminum windows. His eyes quickly found the girl's silhouette in the armchair, and his confused expression turned to concern.

"Y/N?" He called softly, voice hoarse with sleep. "What are you doing there? How long have you been awake?"

"Alex, hey... I lost sleep." The girl met his eyes quickly, sadness and determination reflected in her eyes.

"Is everything okay?" Alex frowned, his orbs studying Y/N's facial expressions, noticing her discomfort.

"Alex, we need to talk."

"What happened? You look worried." He sat up in bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

Y/N took a deep breath, trying to find the right words, her eyes lowering to her fingers, which were clenching her palms in anxiety.

"I... need to be honest with you. Something happened tonight that made me realize a few things."

"What was it? You can tell me." Alex tilted his head, concern rising.

She slowly got up from the armchair and walked to the bed, sitting on the edge of the mattress, next to him. Her right hand worked to find Alex's hand, feeling the warmth and gentleness in it, and that only made everything more difficult.

"Chris called me."

"Chris? Your ex-boyfriend?" Alex frowned slightly.

Y/N nodded, her tongue moistening her lips quickly, preparing to begin.

"Yes. We talked, and... I realized that I still have very strong feelings for him. I tried to move on, I tried to build something with you, but it's not fair. It's not fair to you, and it's not fair to me." She pressed her lips into a thin line, feeling Alex's fingers squeeze hers.

Alex was silent for a moment, processing her words. Finally, he sighed and looked down at his clasped hands.

"You still love him, don't you?"

"Yes, Alex. And it's not because you're not wonderful. You are amazing. But my heart… my heart, is still with Chris." Her voice broke slightly as her eyes filled with tears, her heart clenching in fear and guilt. "I'm sorry for holding you back for so long." A lone tear escaped, running down her cheek slowly.

"I appreciate your honesty, Y/N... I knew, you know? In a way, I felt like there was something you were holding back. Something that was keeping you from being completely with me." He squeezed her hand gently, his eyes full of understanding.

"Aren't you mad?" She raised her eyes to him, widening them in surprise at his response, sniffling as her free hand reached up to her own face, wiping away the single cold tear.

Alex shook his head slowly.

"No, I'm not. I'm sad, of course. I really like you, and I thought we could build something together, I had a million expectations. But I understand that you can't control your heart. And you were honest with me, and that's more than what a lot of people would do. I can't force you to stay with me."

Y/N let out a shaky breath, relieved by his understanding, feeling her heart lighter.

"I didn't want to hurt you, Alex. You deserve someone who can love you completely, without reservation. And I... need to work this out with Chris. See if there's still a chance for us."

"I hope you find what you're looking for, Y/N. And if things don't work out with Chris, I hope you find someone who makes you happy. You deserve it." Alex smiled sadly, but with genuine kindness.

She squeezed his hand one last time, feeling a rush of gratitude.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Y/N's head was a mess as she carefully dressed, choosing an outfit she knew Chris liked. As she looked in the mirror, trying to tame her hair, she remembered the lazy mornings when he would do this for her, a playful smile on his lips.

Chris was also anxious. He tried to hide his nervousness from Nick and Matt, but his brothers - who knew him more than he knew himself - noticed.

"You're going to see her, aren't you?" Matt asked, a knowing smile on his face as he spread peanut butter on his rice cracker, watching him from his seat at the dinner table.

Chris just nodded, taking big, quick gulps of his Pepsi.

"I have to do this. I need to know."

"Good luck." Nick muttered, patting him on the shoulder as he walked past him, sitting in the chair opposite Matt's. "We're rooting for you."

The cafe was almost empty when Y/N arrived. The girl chose a table at the back, where they usually sat and waited, feeling her heart beating wildly. Her eyes traveled frantically from the door to the window and back again, watching the passersby, trying to calm her nerves as she cracked her knuckles.

Chris arrived a few minutes later, still as handsome as she remembered. The boy stopped in front of the glass door of the establishment momentarily, his eyes sweeping the place, accompanied by his brow furrowed in confusion and anxiety, quickly meeting hers.

It was as if an instantaneous and joint spark ran through their bodies, both of them feeling a wave of emotions that almost knocked them over.

Chris took a deep breath, starting his steps towards her, sitting down with a shy smile in the free chair in front of her.

"Hey." Chris whispered, his voice soft, full of contained feelings, and only at that moment did Y/N understand how much she missed hearing the boy's voice in person.

"Hey." Y/N, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, an embarrassed nasal laugh escaping before she clears her throat, blinking rapidly.

The silence between them was not uncomfortable but full of unsaid things and pure feelings.

Finally, Y/N broke the ice.

"I... haven't stopped thinking about you, Chris. Ever since we split up, everything feels so empty."

Chris nodded, leaning his upper body on the base of the table and taking Y/N's hands - which were still tangled up in an act of nervousness -, interlacing their fingers gently.

"Me too. Nothing and no one could fill the void you left. I tried to move on, I really did, but it's impossible. You're the person I love, and it took me so long to notice that. It cost me almost losing you completely."

The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. They both knew it wouldn't be easy, that there would be many things to resolve, but at that moment, all that mattered was that they still loved each other.

"I don't know what it's going to be like." Y/N resumed, her voice shaking as her eyes traveled from blue eyes to pink lips. "But I know I want to try, Chris. I want to rebuild what we lost. I can't let you go. Not again."

"I also want that." He responded quickly, his voice increasing in volume significantly, squeezing her hand tighter. "I know we made mistakes, but I want to fix them. I want you in my life, Y/N. I can't live without you. I don't want to."

The relief and joy that flooded Y/N's features were undeniable. For the first time in months, she felt like there was hope that they could find a way back to each other.

They spent hours talking, remembering the good times and acknowledging the mistakes of the past. They decided that they wouldn't rush things, that they would take it all one step at a time, but most importantly, they would be on this journey together.

When they left the cafe, hand in hand, they both felt that a new chapter was actually beginning. Maybe there were still obstacles to overcome, but they knew that as long as they had each other, they could face all of it. Their love, despite all the challenges, was strong and truthful, and that was all they needed to start over.

༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

My requests are closed, but my asks are always open ♡

And remember to treat people with kindness always!

~ taglist:

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odairsangel · 1 month

Text

Man of the House

warnings: smut, degradation, fingering, mentions choking, unprotected sex, p in v, lost of virginity, starts off kinda angst, overstim, explicit language

reader is slightly innocent not completely understanding the gist of being fucked out of existence.

relationship: innocent!reader x jealous!possessive!rafe

rafe cares about you to, he's not just jealous, possessive & a degrading arse, I swear.

Rafe had already mourned his father, long before his sudden and tragic death.

Ward never loved him. Underestimated him. Used Rafe to draw supply from him to feed his ego via intimidation and humiliation.

And if there's anything Rafe doesn't fuck with, it's being made to feel small

First strike had been his childhood. Second strike had been the loss of faith after Rafe dropped out of college. Third strike was y/n. Marrying y/n was the line his father should have known better than to cross.

Rafe knew y/n, went to school with her, almost made a move on her when she came back to the OBX. But Ward fucking wormed his way in and before Rafe knew it, y/n was walking down the aisle in a Vera Wang gown, kissing his father and letting him put a ring on her finger. Rafe fucking hated it.

She was supposed to be his. And his dad knew it. And still took her from him. That was a sin Rafe couldn't pardon.

His sudden passing wasn't so sudden, it was a meticulous and thought-out plan conceived by Rafe.

Poisoning the old fuck's Viagra a stroke of Rafe's genius. Now his father is out of the picture and everything is falling into place.

Rafe's CEO, man of the house, and his name holds more respect than ever. Everything is falling to place.

There's just one thing left. The master bedroom is his now, and the woman who still warms the bed? Naturally should be too.

But is she? No. But will she? Most definitely.

"y/n.." Rafe purrs "I've come to check up on you, to make sure your alright." His fingers graze your arms making a trail of goosebumps pop up on your arms.

"M'fine, are you? I know you've got a lot of shit to deal with now your father's passing." You shift away from hand, shaking his hand off your arm.

He smirked at that, eyes roaming over you. This time, he didn't look away, not for even a second. "You scared, y/l/n?"

You two locked eyes and he stayed still. It was as if he was studying you the way one does a prized possession, analyzing and looking for any flaws and faults in his "property".

"No- M' not." You huff out quietly, turning back to the funeral planner for Ward, "I've got shit to do." You say, countering him and well- your nervousness.

"Then why are you being so skittish?" He asked, as if he wasn't being incredibly obvious with his intent.

"You don't make eye contact with me, you barely want me here. I know I can see right through you and you know it." He crossed his arms over his broad chest. "You know what I think?"

"Hm?" You murmur softly, shifting your you seat, finally looking at Rafe.

Rafe takes a breath before continuing "I know your still a virgin, so I think you should lose your virginity to me."

Well, it was true—but he didn't need to drop the bomb like that, and so quickly, either.

"And if you do this for me, you know I'll protect you, yeah?" Rafe steps up to you, resting his right hand on the small of your back. Hesitantly, you nod.

There's no going back no. After all, it's Rafe fucking Cameron.

“Good, good little slut ain’tchu?” Rafe growls softly, pulling your pajama pants to the side. He takes a nip of your ear before pulling your underwear to the side as well “God, your gonna be a a good little Pouge and take this Kook dick?” (oh yeah, I forgot to mention you used to be a pouge before you married Ward)

Your eyes widen “In the kitchen!? What if Wheezie comes out her room!”

“The I suggest you keep quiet, we wouldn’t want to have to choke you, now would we?” Rafe grips your waist, pushing you against your chair

He looks at your cunt then back at you “Horny little thing, aren’t you?” Rafe teases your slick, glimmering, wet folds with his middle finger, you let out a small gasp of surprise. Your eyes threatened to roll back as he shoved his middle finger into your pulsating pussy.

"N-no!" You shout defensively "M'not horny." Tears moisten your eyes as he degrades you.

Rafe pauses, grasping your chin between his finger and thumb "Baby, your not a slut. I swear, sometimes that turns a woman on." He unbuckles his pants, kicking his pants and buckles to the side "Now be quiet, I don't want to choke you, yeah?"

You nod quietly "Don't be mean, please." You beg him softly to go slow and not to degrade you.

"Of course, just grip the counter if I'm going to fast." He aligns his cock at your folds, stoping for a second

"Let's go to the couch for a better position, yeah?" He carries you bridal style to the couch.

He tossed you onto the couch, your cunt clenches around nothing as you lay on the couch, you let out a whine as you fly shortly to the couch out of Rafe's arms without warning. "Careful!" You shout—quite loudly, at that, enough to wake up any sleeping members in Tanneyhill.

Rafe shoots you a glare as he grabs the plush of your hips to slam his cock inside your little cunt. "I told you to be quiet, baby."

"M'Sorry," You mewl out, arching you back as Rafe's hips buck into yours "You-You'd said you go slow!" You grip the couch fabric, your legs tilting into the air

Rafe grip your hair, pulling it down to make you look at him "That was before you decided to be a brat and try to wake up all of Tanneyhill." He growls into your ear, you were on the verge of releasing your orgasm onto Rafe's pelvis bone.

"M-M'Sorry! Please-" You claw Rafe's shoulders, begging him to slow down for fucks sake before you lost your morals.

Rafe let's out a low groan "Just- just let me cum, please." He pins your wrists above your head, straddling your thighs as his cock relentlessly abuses your cunt

Feeling overstimulated you mewl out as Rafe cum inside your fucked up cunt, finally pulling out.

Rafe breathes out “Let’s get you- all cleaned up, yeah?” He takes a smaller breath “And I’ll get you a plan b afterwards for in the mornin’ but M’gonna get you birth control.”

“Because this isn’t the last time we’re doing this.”

#rafe cameron #rafe obx #outerbanks rafe #rafe imagine #rafe outer banks #outer banks #rafe x reader #obx #outer banks smut #rafe smut #obx rafe cameron #rafe fanfiction #rafe fic #rafe #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks imagine

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atxxzist · 9 months

Text

the crown prince | c.s

summary: with the fall of the king, the kingdom of utopia rest on prince san's hand. but when bounties are put on his head as the consequence of his ancestors' actions, he realize there's a backlog of history to undo and a lot more to prove that he's deserving of being the rightful ruler

pairing: choi san x f!reader

genre: prince!san, commoner!y/n, medieval au, angst, fluff, suggestive

word count: 19k

(ao3) if you don't like lapslock

age 8:

you live in the fifth district, the poorest and most rundown of all districts, sitting at the bottom of the kingdom with a large body of water surrounding it.

the only remarkable thing about the place is the port that's often used for traveling in and out of the kingdom. other than that, rarely anyone from other districts would come down unless they want to be at risk of a flood--which always striked the district the hardest out of any others.

but even then, despite the limited portions of food your family has to survive on each day, or the hardrock wood mattress you guys have to sleep on that frequently gives your aging father back pain, life doesn't seem all that bad.

you still have your family and a roof over your head, and a mind too young and optimistic.

age 10:

just two years after, you soon find out how hard it really is for a kid living in the fifth district, and especially one without parents or someone to love and care for them.

the fishermen had said your parents fell overboard and their bodies couldn't be recovered.

you couldn't believe it at first that no one looked even the least concerned or urgent to search for your parents, but you soon learn that their lives are meaningless, and the people that threw you out after their death made sure you knew so is yours.

"ay, kid, we could leave you out here to die if we really want to," one of the tall, scary looking man says after your episode of protesting and crying starts to annoy him.

and easily like that, they both leave you in the orphanage that's already overcrowded with other children of similar circumstances.

you lose everything in one day; the house your father built from scratch, along with anything that's ever been handmade by your mother, it's all gone. they're both gone, and you feel yourself withering away with all the loss.

before the age of eleven, you become nothing more than a ward of the district and the responsibility to a bunch of strangers who probably doesn't care whether you live or die.

age 11:

it only takes a year for you to become almost nothing like the person you were once before who was cheerful and optimistic.

all of it beat out of you, watching every day as some of the children gets yelled at or punished for doing something so trivial, it desensitized you to the point you're no longer surprise to hear someone get told no one else would want them outside of the orphanage.

you don't talk to anyone or attempt to make any friends. you keep to yourself and would often read any books you could find or hunt for any sewing materials during the few time of the day they let you guys out.

age 12:

during dinner, you hear the group of kids sitting at the nearby table talk about the upcoming coronation of the prince.

"it's not even like we're gonna get to see it," one of the girls squeak, seemingly uninterested in the topic as she pokes her food because it's true.

events like that, especially any celebrations or gatherings are only reserved for those in the second and first districts, who are usually of noble and royal status. not nobodies like you guys down here living off of scraps and remnants.

"i want to see how the prince looks like," another boy adds with a mischievous tone.

you, too, want to see what the prince looks like, but you most likely never will. he won't come here and the chances of you going up there is damn near impossible, it might as well be good as a dream.

but all of the children agrees that he's the luckiest kid in the kingdom, and for that, they hate him for it.

age 13:

through the years, you've been watching as kids go and new ones would come in.

those that left were lucky to have gotten moved or adopted into a household that were willing to take them in, and you, like all the other kids in here, tired of the overcrowding and deteriorating state of the orphanage, hope that a kind family will one day swoop you away.

but it doesn't happen at age thirteen, and you continue to share a bunk with the same girl from three years ago who's been here longer than you.

age 14:

the states of the lower districts only seems to decline as you get older with the corrupted hierarchy and the rich taking all the resources for themselves.

for hundreds of years--you've learned, that it's always been bad, but everything's looking far worse than it has even four years ago.

but with the conditions in the lower three districts deteriorating, the citizens are growing more vocal, bitter, and resentful of those that resides in peace while everyone else is suffering.

the disparity not only made everyone despite the higher ups, but also each other as the stresses of the poor states get to them. and with you living in one of the three's, it made you harbor a hatred toward the top two districts as well, unable to see them past anything but greedy and power-hungry.

slanders of the royal family increased then. talks of overthrowing the king or starting a war for equal resources for all districts, and some even saying they'd rather swim across the ocean to reach kingdom aurora than to live in this "hellhole". but at the time, they were nothing but empty threats to make one feel better.

age 15:

you were so scared at first, hearing of all the horror stories told by the older, taunting kids who's gonna get moved into a family soon, that you're gonna be unlucky for the rest of your life and not get chosen like them.

that you're just gonna stay here until some lowly men decides to buy you off, or probably meet a worse fate.

but one sudden day when the director of the orphanage comes running into the dining hall and announces to all the kids to be on their best behaviors because someone from the second district is going to be coming down the next day, your life changes for the better at the age of fifteen.

you didn't think you had a chance at all, but you still wanted to try because no matter the intense dislike you hold for the two higher districts, if there's an opportunity for a better life, you're going to take it.

it's better than staying here and suffering. everyone else is becoming desperate and you're not any different.

the lady comes the following day as expected, her carriage alerting the entire place of her arrival as all the kids are on their knees with desperation in their eyes.

you guys have never had any visitors from a district so high up before, so this is very crucial.

when she walks in, everyone bows to welcome her, the sight as equally mesmerizing to others as it is to you. never in your life have you seen anyone with so many pearls and jewels, the gown she's wearing made of only the best materials.

it then hits you harder that however this lady decides to take you in, you're going to be living a comfortable life no matter what.

she takes one look around the room, all the children secretly crossing their fingers and it's when her eyes land on you and her lips turn up into a smile.

the director tells her you're a good kid. often guarded and doesn't really get along with the others, but well behaved nonetheless.

it feels weird to be the one everyone's envious of when you were usually on the opposite spectrum, but now passing all the kids as you make way to the front door, all their burning gazes planting a seed of guilt because you understand the feeling all too well.

but with the nation in this state, all anyone can do is look out for themselves. eventually, their time will come, and this just so happens to be yours.

the lady sits you down in the carriage next to her while the coachman leads the way back. she informs you will be working under the family as a servant but will be provided housing, food, and even freedom from time to time.

"i heard you like sewing."

you nod shyly at her words.

"i learned it from my mother."

"good. then you will have the opportunity to hone the skill."

the trip to the second district takes a total of three days, the only times you guys stopped was for food or toilet breaks. when the coachman announces the arrival, your first time seeing the scenery is that to of a fish fresh out of water.

you didn't even know trees or grass could be that green. or that it's not always supposed to feel like a sense of dread that takes the smiles off people's faces until they just look straight miserable.

it's as if you've entered a completely different nation, unable to comprehend the huge difference already, even in comparison to the third district.

the lady is quick to disappear into the house almost the size of the orphanage itself, calling for someone else to escort you around and show what the next couple of years (and possibly, the rest of your life) has in store for you.

you're to wake up at 5am everyday to prepare food for the noble family, and will be sharing a chamber with three other female servants: the main cook, the main cleaner, and another young girl about your age.

you're only allowed to wander during weekends with authorization and is only to go out for groceries or other necessities. other than that, any rule breaking will have consequences.

for the next couple of days, you practice the routine.

waking up in the early morning and prepping breakfast, then cleaning, and repeat for lunch and dinner. sometimes, you'd get to do different tasks like helping the noble daughter pick out a dress or shoes for the day, but that's only if you get called.

you pick up the cooking and cleaning quite fast because you used to help your parents a lot. and though the work hours can be tiring, the food you're eating and the place you sleep in is a lot better.

you also get the occasional freedom and access to improve your seamstress skills, and it's not the ideal life, but it is the best one for someone like you.

you hear a grunting sound close by one morning when you decide to wake up earlier than usual.

turning to the source, you see a figure far away near the tall gates, prancing around in his heavy armors with a sword in his hand. the sight definitely amazes you as you're only able to stare in awe before accidentally creating a ruckus that catches the attention of the stranger as he turns around.

it's still dark and you can't see his face very well, only until he starts walking toward you.

"can i help you?" he asks, voice a type of husky but innocent.

"oh, no." you shake your head, "i was just uhm... watching."

he chuckles and looks to the ground, your eyes trained on the way his dark hair ruffles along with his movements until he's staring at you again, finally out of the poor lighting.

he's cute and has childlike features. definitely not an appearance that gives away he could probably slice you dead right now if he wants to.

"you're the new worker," he vocalize, and it takes you a second to figure how he knew, following his gaze to the door of the chamber behind you.

"ah, yes i am." you nod.

"cool. well, i'm the gatekeeper. jongho."

"gatekeeper?" you crank an eyebrow, so far behind on rich people terminology, you have no idea what that means.

"i just protect and patrol the place in case of any intruders. it sounds fancy but it's really not. you don't have to keep it formal, though. we're all servants here."

"i see." you smile tight-lipped.

he also does look a little too young to be manhandling weapons or putting his life on the line, but you too, are also too young to be losing your parents and getting sold off as a servant.

for anyone in the lower three districts, it is all for survival.

you soon learn that jongho was born in the fourth district but he's been living and training here for so long, he can barely recall his time there.

and you're not sure what it is about him that makes you open up given the fact you've been closed off for so long ever since your parents death and the comprehension of the cruel world you're living in, but through the year and before you turn sixteen, you find your first true friend in choi jongho.

age 16:

you get acquainted with hongjoong, a friend of jongho and a messenger who travels in and out of the districts to deliver any important information.

you're not sure how he keeps his identity on the low in spite of the growing tension between all the districts, but jongho assures you he has his ways.

jongho spends his days training with many kinds of weapons; swords, spears, daggers, crossbows, and just about everything when he's not guarding the house--which he usually isn't because the second district is still relatively safe at this time.

but if there is any outside attackers, it would be jongho's and the other men's responsibilities to protect the noble family. it's what they've all been trained for.

you still cook and clean, and your sewing skills have gotten increasingly better that you also started picking up embroidery.

on the occasion, jongho would teach you how to use a dagger just so you'd have some knowledge of self defense and protection considering the alarming state of the nation.

and now that you're living under people of noble status, royal parties and balls were the standards. not that you'll ever get to attend them for yourself, always hearing about it for an alternative or watching the noble family dress up in pretty attires that cost hefty coins before they waddle off in their carriage into the first district.

hongjoong returns a week later, informing you and jongho that the conditions, especially in the fifth district, is really bad that some citizens have decided to risk their lives in hope of reaching the kingdom of aurora since ships and boats cannot be sailed without approval from the royal family.

"it's basically a death sentence to be living in any of the lower districts at this point. i fear if the king doesn't do anything about it, a civil war may be on the horizon."

age 17:

not much changes and hongjoong has said that the king, along with other royal and noble families, refused to take actions since the dividing of resources for all the other districts would cause the first and second to falter because they do not have enough for everyone.

it's better to keep some afloat than to put the entire nation at risk.

"but sir, that's only going to keep running the citizens out of the nation, and the ones that do stay are becoming angry. the first organization against the royal family already formed, calling themselves outlaws. and they're not just ordinary citizens. they could infiltrate the two higher districts if they want to. a solution is not to only keep them happy, but to also prevent a war."

"then strengthen the security. we also have equally skilled men, if not, more. send any able-bodied men to the gates of the first and second district and don't let anybody from the lower threes enter."

age 18:

things only get worse. nobody is allowed to travel freely between the districts anymore and anyone from the first two were strongly advised not to go down because the chances of getting robbed or assaulted are high.

the four working men in the house dwindled down to two because the other two, including jongho, would be sent to guard the entrance. but during rotation when he gets to come back to sleep and eat, he'd tell you that it's eerily quiet, but that all the lower districts know the higher ones are blocking off entrance and might retaliate soon.

"we should be prepared for the worst. hongjoong said the fact they're quiet might mean the organization is planning something."

age 19:

for a while, security at the entrance decreases when it looks like the lower districts weren't gonna try to do anything about it.

jongho and the other men in the house were able to stay around longer, sometimes even for a few days straight without going back, and the outrage did feel like it was just a false alarm.

no one in the higher districts, even hongjoong, were prepared for the storm that is after the calm.

"y/n! wake up!"

you groggily groan at the voice, sounding both hushed but eager as it jolts you from sleep.

it's jongho and he looks absolutely terrified, his figure hovering over your body still in bed.

"come on, y/n! we have to get going!"

you don't have the time to take in anything, jongho already pulling you up harshly to stand on your feet as you hurl out more groans and complaints.

"what's going on? i was sleeping, you know."

"the king is dead."

it's those words that makes you more awake than ever, unable to believe as you just stare dumbfoundedly while he ravages the drawers for more appropriate clothings.

"w-what? h-how?" you can barely form anything coherent at this point, your heart racing so fast.

"he was assasinated," jongho reveals, throwing a loose, oversized shirt at you. "we're not sure how they managed to get that far up the first district, but all this time, that must've been what they were preparing for--you need to get changed."

he throws you a pair of pants and continues speaking, at the same time going through almost the entire perimeter for anything that will prove useful.

you don't even care he's in the same room, your body going into shock and quickly pulling the night gown off before putting on what he gave you.

"hongjoong thinks they're planning a raid, starting from the second district and working their way up. if we stay here, we could get captured, held hostage, or whatever those outlaws want to do with us--here."

he finds the dagger he had given you sitting in the last drawer, pulling the extra sheath out of his pouch and running to tie it around your waist.

"keep this with you at all time, and remember what i taught you. just in case we ever get separated, you need to protect yourself," he demands, passing the dagger to you with an extremely serious look on his face along with the statement just now, making you queasy in the stomach.

you can't imagine having to part from jongho for whatever reason. you wouldn't know what to do.

he gestures to your shoes and you wear it quickly.

"now come on, let's go!" he grabs your wrist and your body flings forward, only managing to grab the pouch on top the dresser before your feet's following his steps out the door despite the lingering sleepiness and that you could be forgetting something else, but it's all happening so fast, your mind struggling to keep up.

you're about to ask him about the other servants, or the noble family, but as he whisk you into the nightly air, the breeze pushing past your skin, you realize that before jongho came, you were alone.

they all left you.

"where are we going?" you ask.

"down to the third district. hongjoong lended me a map and said to go through the forest, we'll catch less attention that way. he said we can stay at one of his hideouts for now."

for the next hours, you don't see anything but trees and branches in your way, and the moon high above the dark sky as it follows both you and jongho.

your feet tired and sore at this point, asking jongho to find a place to sit even for just a few minutes because you might just pass out.

"if we keep at this pace, we'll be able to make it to the third district by morning," he informs, handing over the costrel and telling you to drink.

you nod, passing it back after finishing, observing for a few seconds as jongho takes a couple sips.

"so where did everyone else go?" you finally bring up the question bothering you.

"to the lower districts. i heard some are hoping to reach the port so they'll get the chance to sail to aurora or dune, now that the royal family is in a crisis, people don't care anymore. but as you already know, we have limited ships and boats and it's going to be a bloodbath all around."

he goes on, "we only found out the king was dead when people from the first district started migrating, and then everyone in the second started panicking, and i honestly did too initially. i was about to start heading down until i remembered you."

you smile and nudge the boy with your elbow affectionately.

"if not for you, i probably would've turned into a corpse by tomorrow."

"pfft," he scoffs, "not a corpse but a captive maybe. their target is still the royal family, and now that the king is dead, they'll most likely go after the prince. the raid is just to scare people off so they can bask in the lavish that the first and second district has to offer. but still, it's better to be safe than sorry. they did killed the king, after all."

you take in the information, asking one last question.

"and where is hongjoong?"

"he was also in the second district at the time, but after lending me the map and instructions, he said he's gonna go up in order to get more details; hopefully talk to the prince and will report back in a few days."

"do you think he's going to be okay?"

jongho nods and stands up from the log, reaching his hand out to help you.

"he should be. he wouldn't be able to survive for this long if he isn't competent. but we should get going or else the trip will be delayed."

the hideout is a small shack in the corner of the wood, blending into the surroundings so perfectly, you and jongho almost missed it.

it's essentially a square with a single wooden bed, one chair, and a small table with an ewer sitting on top. jongho said the water in there should still be good to use, and that he brought enough breads to survive on for a few days.

"i can take the floor," he says, taking off the crossbow and sword that's been stuck to his body for an entire night and settling them down.

"we can take turns," you offer an alternative, pitying the boy because he's the one who's been doing most of the works.

"alright."

he nods it off. he wasn't gonna fight you on it.

you and jongho passes time by training for the majority of time. sometimes, you'd just watch, but when he isn't worn out by his own routine, he'd tell you the basics of a crossbow and a knightly sword and would proceed to watch you practice with the dagger.

"you're holding it like a coward who's never fought in their life," is his usual criticism.

"well maybe cause i am a coward who has never fought before," you will retort.

"when facing an enemy, you can't show that you're afraid. you have to believe in yourself."

"easy for you to say."

but regardless of his yapping that sometimes make you roll your eyes all the way to the back of your head, he's a good teacher and even complimented you. if saying that you're a lot less awful than when you started, counts.

three days later from when you both settled, the light, passive knock at the door alerts you and jongho, you almost wishing it was one of the outlaws, preferably a weaker member just so you can put what you've learned to use.

but it's hongjoong.

"so what did the prince say?" jongho asks, quick and eager.

"he's recruiting. said he'll take in anyone still willing to stand by his side while he figure things out. he needs time."

"what about the guards and men that were in the castle? isn't it their duty to protect the royal family?"

"more than half of them ran to the lower districts. the outlaws probably won't do much to a normal citizen, but they will be vile to anyone on the prince's side."

"and he didn't try to stop them?" you join, hongjoong turning his head to you and shaking.

"he said he wasn't gonna force anyone who didn't want to stay. but for those willing to fight by his side, he'll take them."

you don't mean to come off hypercritical, but you can't help but think that the prince is being careless.

"but the outlaws want him dead, no? he shouldn't be taking in just anybody. that's too dangerous."

hongjoong just shrugs.

"that was his order."

a silence hangs between the three of you after, and one glance at jongho, you see that conflicted look in his eyes and know that he's about to say something you won't like.

"i'll go."

you snap your neck to him so fast, there must've been a pop.

"what--jongho, no," you object, worry in your tone. hongjoong just standing by and watching the incoming dispute unfold.

"it's better than standing around and waiting for something to happen."

"but putting your life on the line? for all you know, there might not even be a solution at all. look at the state of the kingdom. people are running away, everyone fearing for their own safety. in the end, you could be dying for nothing. did you forget it's because of these people that us born in the lower districts have to live a shit life?"

by now, you're both facing each other and fuming through your noses.

"and did you forget that we haven't been to the lower districts in years? ever since we got the opportunity to move into one of the top two? even if we were just servants, we were living better than a normal family in the fifth district. i was guarding and blocking off an entrance because i was so much better than the people trying to get through. you think i enjoyed doing that shit? no. but it was my job. in some ways, we betrayed our roots, y/n. and you're right. the prince could be lying and stalling out of his ass, but you know... i'm hoping that he's not. because for once, i want to feel like i'm doing something worthy. i didn't train all my life just to guard gates where nothing ever fucking happens nine out of ten times."

you watch in disbelief as he turns to pick up his crossbow and sword.

"so whether you like it or not, i'm going."

he gives hongjoong a stern look, to which the older man returns one, but is soon carried away by your voice again.

"then i'm going with you."

and jongho knows he's going to sound like a hypocrite; the fact he cares for you as much as you care for him so he doesn't want you to put yourself in the face of danger.

he also understands that you share the same sentiment in regard to him, which is why you don't want him to go.

"no. it's safest for you to stay here. you don't have the same training and combat that i do. you can barely hold a dagger the right way and it's one of the most light and basic weapon. those outlaws will pummel you like a bug."

you roll your eyes and you can see hongjoong trying to hold in his laughter.

"well geez, thanks, master. but boohoo. all i know is that i need to stab," you snark, managing to pull a small smile from jongho before switching tone. "i'm serious, though. i know i'm not gonna be pounding anyone, but i'd still like to come with. it would put a lot of my worries to rest knowing you're alive and okay."

"i'll be fine, y/n," he assures, one hand on your shoulder, "and if it'll make you feel better, if hongjoong doesn't mind, he can come once in a while to inform you of what's going on."

you meet hongjoong's gaze at that and he nods with a thin smile.

but that's still not good enough for you because how can you possibly be okay with the only person you can call family, going off and risking his life?

you're not.

which is why when they both finally depart, you wait until they're a good distance away yet still visible to the eye, tying the sheath the way jongho did and sticking your dagger in before taking the costrel he left for you along with the remaining breads and following right behind them.

hongjoong used to travel on horseback but he has to be more discreet this time around, especially going up the higher districts.

you're somewhat thankful for that because you're not sure you can keep up if that was the case.

you stop when they stop, and rest when they rest. you would try listening in on their conversations but it's always inaudible from where you're at.

you put aside the pain of an aching feet or fear of the nightly forest, afraid you would give yourself out.

two days later, you're sure you guys are close. a part of you somewhat curiously pumped because you've never wander up the first district before.

with the sun setting and the stars soon to come out, you're hoping to arrive before it gets too dark because you really are dreading the idea of spending another night hidden behind itchy bushes.

dragging yourself up the steep hill, you can't help but to admire the scenery, the air of utopia still fresh and the birds still chirp like the nation is whole, resuming your steps only to see that you've lost sighting of jongho and hongjoong, and if you're any quicker, they will catch on.

you don't panic just yet, although you're getting nervous, but carrying on because the castle shouldn't be too far from here. as soon as you can spot it, it should be easy to trace it back to the two.

the only problem is how you're gonna get in once you reach it.

as you get closer to the top, you can spot the castle's head peaking, and once finally on flat land, you're able to see the entire thing, and the dazzling white architecture is hard to miss.

the heart and soul of utopia planted right in the center of the first district, and you've never seen anything more sophisticated in your entire life. but as you sneak closer, you're sure that you're not even gonna make it past the portcullis.

if you don't find jongho, you'd be coming all this way for nothing.

you've been watching the guards at the gate and their patterns of behavior for the last hour, every time inching closer to the entrance with the least amount of noise as possible.

but you should've known. you've overestimated your ability (by a large margin) thinking you can outsmart people who does this for a living, and of all places, it had to be royal family's. stupid.

you barely take a step when the pressure of a sharp object against your back make your eyes go wide in horror.

you're thinking this is it. you should've listened to jongho and should have not acted like such a know-it-all, because the next time he sees you, it will be in corspe form.

the beating of your heart is loud along with the stranger's breathing, their hand going retrieve your dagger from the sheath, and if they attack, you will have no other way to defend yourself.

"who the hell are you and why are you sneaking around my castle?" the deep, masculine tone drowns your ears.

my castle?

you foolishly turn around like an idiot, feeling the pressure of the object move to your neck instead, looking up at this mysterious stranger but unable to make anything out.

the running of footsteps and commotion can be heard from behind you, a series of voices and better lighting approaching with all the torches in the guards hands, and when you're finally able to make out the pair of eyes staring back, it feels as if you forgot how to breathe.

because if it isn't the most beautiful man you've ever seen, dark locks, sly and sharp eyes to that of a fox that looks disapproving of your choices before it turns slightly softer when he sees how harmless you actually look, the weapon in his hand lowering with a clear of his throat.

"what part of 'it's safest if you stay here' did you not understand?"

jongho's loud and frustrated voice echoes through the entire hall, pacing back and forth in place as he reprimands you in front of hongjoong, the prince, and his other royal companions.

the prince (who you have to make a point one more time that he's devastingly beautiful) was unexpectedly casual when you explained to him you were looking for your friends, even returning your dagger.

"i only came because i was worried about you. i know you would do the same for me."

"yes, but something could've happened to you. you could've gotten lost, or worse."

"as you can see, i'm fine. the most life threatening thing was the prince putting a knife to my back and neck."

"because you were limping around the castle like an idiot."

"well, what was he doing outside of it anyways?"

"why are you talking about the prince like that!" he yells, and the both of you having an awakening at the same time, registers how embarrassing and inappropriate it actually is to be having a screaming match in the royal family's hall, turns to the prince and bow in apology.

"sorry," you both mutter.

"it's fine," the prince dismisses.

when you were still living at the orphanage, some of the kids would often play guessing games about the prince just because the chances of ever meeting him were close to none, everyone might as well get creative.

some assumed he's a snob because kids being kids, they were all jealous of the fact he was living better, and so it's only natural he would think he's better than everyone else.

then some thought he looked like a troll, which was why the king and queen kept him inside most of the time.

none of you guys knew a lot about the prince, but there were words on the street that he almost never went out of the castle; some even using that as confirmation for why he's a stuck-up.

but after meeting him, he's nothing like the kids have predicted.

he definitely does not look like a troll or sound like a snob, at least so far. he's actually rather soft-spoken, though a bit aloof and stoic. but you suppose one isn't gonna be jolly after the death of their father.

jongho had insisted that you go back immediately, and you were considerate of the castle's deities enough to pull him outside just to object.

but you only got another line in the quarrel before the prince intervened and much to jongho's dismay, said you could stay for the night since it was getting late and traveling would be difficult.

"but you're leaving as soon as the sun comes up!" he proceeds to nag the entire time you tuck yourself to bed, the prince kindly offering a spare chamber for you to stay in.

"yes. i know," you reply, all snarky tone and turning to face the other way because he's getting on your nerves.

there's a quick silence before the edge of the bed creaks with his weight.

"look, i know you only came because you were worried about me, and you're right, i would do the same for you."

you toss slowly to look him up in the eyes from your position.

he goes on, now locking you in his gaze, "but it's way too dangerous for you to stay here, and we don't know when they're going to attack. and worse, if they see you're in alliance with the prince, who knows what they'll do? i'll be fine. this is what i've trained my whole life for. you just have to believe in me."

you sigh and frown, finally deciding to cave because you do know that jongho is capable. you've never doubted him. it's the opponents that you're unsure of, their next moves could be anything.

"i'll go back, but hongjoong still needs to follow the end of the deal."

jongho smiles warmly, relieved you're no longer trying to fight him on this.

"he'd be happy to."

you nod, figuring that since you're already here, you might as well ask.

"so how many men volunteered?"

"for now, three. me, someone named yunho from the third district, and another guy named minjun. but more might wind up later, who knows."

"i still don't think it's smart of the prince to be taking in just anyone. it's way too risky. you have good intentions, but what about the two other?" you voice concernedly, your forehead starting to crease from the distress.

you just met the prince, but you know that the idea is ridiculous and you don't want him meeting the same fate as his father.

"optimism maybe? i don't know. more than half of the royal family's protections are gone so he probably can't be too picky. but i'd like to think he knows what he's doing."

but he's also still young and is currently in a worse position than his father, the king, who couldn't even save utopia. you don't think anybody is ready to be in his place, let alone lead an entire kingdom that's falling apart.

"alright. then you should return to the others; help them look after the prince. he's going to need it."

"actually, he ordered us to stay with the queen and princess."

you shoot up from position, incredulity written all over your face.

"what--why? all of you guys? then who's going to look after him?"

jongho shrugs.

"i disagree as well, but after all, he's the prince. we can't disobey orders."

"you guys should be allowed to if it's foolish. what is going on in his head?" you shake your own, unable to believe it.

you just know that something bad is gonna happen, and it would be due to the prince's own incompetence.

jongho has no idea either given he only just met him as well, but he's crossing his fingers the prince will prove both of you wrong.

"i have to go. you should get some rest because you'll be leaving in the early morning. i'll see you then."

you're woken up by a heavy disturbance, the ruckus happening outside of the room but also sounding so close.

it might be best if you stay here; leave whatever the noises is to the guards in the castle, but you just feel it in your guts that your prediction have came true.

carefully opening the door, you peek your head out, immediately drawn to the bright light illuminating at the end of the hall, and soon, your quick and eager feet has taken you to the shocking sight.

the prince standing before jongho and another guard as they hold back someone you can't quite recall. one of his hand tending to the cut on his left arm, and you can see the red seeping through the thin white fabric.

the prince meets your eyes when he notices you standing outside.

"i knew it!" you screech, your turn to pace back and forth as jongho watches from the side. "he shouldn't have just taken in anyone!"

you found out it was minjun, one of threes who volunteered along with jongho, who attacked the prince. apparently, he had snuck away from the other guards and was in the prince's room within minutes, a sword aimed at the young royal that could've taken his life.

"luckily, he only got off with a cut. i can't even imagine what would've happened."

jongho groans anxiously, the first day on the job and the reality of it already showing its head.

"there's nothing luck-based about the prince's survival," hongjoong's voice has you both turning as he appears from the opened door.

"prince san isn't only highly skilled in all areas of fighting, but he's the best warrior utopia has to offer. he most likely knew about the attack beforehand, which was why he only got away with a cut considering minjun also isn't just an average member of the outlaws," hongjoong reveals, the new information makes you and jongho gawk at each other in surprise.

"y/n," he calls out, and you detach from jongho's eyes to look at him.

"yes?"

"i need you to do me a favor. i trust you enough, and you look rather... harmless."

you pinch in your brows. if he wants to go off about your terrible fighting and self defense skill, he might as well just spell it out.

"the prince said he has a plan, but we're going to need to buy time. and no matter how skilled he is, we can't keep dealing with people coming into the castle in attempts to severe the prince's head. it's best if he's away until we can figure things out, for his safety and the kingdom's."

you only hum and nod, wondering where exactly this is going.

"he'll be leaving with you in the morning."

your face falls in horror, unable to believe they're entrusting the prince to you. the thoughts of being alone with someone like him both terrifying but weirdly stimulating.

"oh my gosh, she's blushing..." jongho yelps, a smirk tugging at his lips. he's seen the way you'd ogle at the prince, definitely something you never did to any other men.

"i'm not!" you cry defensively, embarrassed. "i-i just don't think i'm the right person."

"we just need the prince away from the castle for a few days. for now, it look like the outlaws are not planning on moving up the first district entirely, so the rest of us should be safe as well for the time being. you still remember the way back to the shack, right?"

you nod hesitantly.

"good. then it's settled."

the following morning, everyone bids farewell to the prince, the queen and princess wishing him well as the guards and hongjoong stack him with equipments, while jongho makes you carry the food and water.

he takes off the royal attire, disguising himself in commoner clothings instead, as recommended by his companion, wooyoung.

hongjoong promises to report back once things get relatively better.

at first, it's nerve-racking because you just can't help it. the prince is so handsome and your touch-starved body just reacts naturally, but once you figure he isn't gonna talk to you, only gesturing or murmuring out short instructions, the spark wears off.

"we should stop and rest for the night," he speaks more than three words for the first time, laying down his stuff and nodding to the tall tree.

"alright."

you settle your things down as well, plopping against the tree and waiting for him to do the same but he instead pulls out the sword and starts slashing the air.

when he takes notice of your gawking from behind, he apologizes.

"sorry, i'm just... practicing, hope you don't mind. you can rest, i'll keep watch."

you nod it off, sleep soon taking over, but when you wake a few hours later, able to tell from the different color painting the sky, the prince is still practicing and seems just as eager as he was before.

"prince," you call out, his movements halting in place as he turns back at the sound of your voice.

"call me san."

you clear your throat, "uh... san, have you slept at all?"

he shakes his head.

"i was practicing."

you stand up, dusting off the dirts from your pants and growing concerned regarding the sleepless prince.

"you can sleep. i'll keep watch and if there's anything, i'll wake you up," you offer, but he's quick to reject the proposal.

"no need to. i'm not tired anyways. if you're feeling fully rested, we can keep going. the sun is almost up."

you watch in dejection as he goes to retrieve his things because you're not sure you can believe he's not even the tiniest bit tired from everything so far.

it takes almost an entire day to reach the destination, your body tired and aching for something to sit on, the minute you reach the shack, you're sprawled all over the chair.

the prince looks just fine, though.

"it's small, but comfortable," you assure the prince just in case he has any doubts in mind. because you initially did, too, but it was surprisingly homey when you last stayed with jongho.

he nods, eyes roaming the small interior.

"it'll do."

"you can take the bed. i don't mind taking the floor," you tell him, but he instead shakes his head.

"the bed's all yours. i'll be outside practicing."

you scowl and sit up from your seat.

"again? we've been traveling all day. you should really get some rest considering you didn't get any the night before."

but he's stubborn, grabbing for his sword again as you can only sigh in disapproval.

"i really don't feel tired."

"then you should eat, at least."

"i'm not hungry."

you end up going to bed alone, only listening to the prince's grunting and slashing outside as he practices like he's trying to reach out to something or someone.

the uneasiness consuming you, seeing him always looking so miserable as if something's bothering him, unable to rest or do anything else.

it's understandable because of the circumstances he's in, but you wish he would be kinder to himself.

you only give him another two hours before taking matters into your own hand, flinging the door open to his figure dancing around the area with his sword, calling his name softly that makes him stop in track to look at you.

"enough," you mumble, quiet but stern, prying the weapon out of his hold with so much power, you think jongho would be proud.

"no, i have to pr--" he reaches for the sword but you move back, the prince grabbing only the nightly air in place.

"no, you don't," you spit, your free hand going to grab his wrist and dragging him back inside. "you need to eat and rest."

the sword clinks the flooring when you drop it, sitting san down on the bed and grabbing some of the breads and dried meat before taking the seat next to him.

"i understand you're going through a lot right now and it's tough, but you need to take care of yourself. you can't wear your body out or punish it. you're not even fully healed from the cut. if something happens, if worst comes to worst, you need to be prepared to fight."

you push the food toward him but he doesn't budge the slightest. his eyes trained on it, but everything else completely frozen.

for a second, you think all the efforts is gonna go to waste because the prince won't listen, but much to your surprise, he starts talking.

"my father and everyone around me would always say i was the best fighter in the entire kingdom; that i was one of a kind, gifted from a young age, and the future of utopia. i used to believe that as well, but what kind of prick can't even save his own father?"

a small gasp fall, fussing under your breath, "san..."

"maybe i'm only as great because i had the access and materials to become great. but in actuality, i would be no more than average in any other scenarios."

"san, you are great. hongjoong said you are, and you even fought off minjun. it's not your fault what happened to your father," determination in your delivery, finding yourself oddly caring for someone you barely knew.

"father did always lived every day as if it was his last. he knew everyone was out to get him..." he fidgets with one of the breads before taking a small bite out of it. "i thought it would make me feel better if i caught his killer, but i really don't feel any different."

"so hongjoong was right. you knew about the attack?"

you watch as he ogles at the piece of bread like it's the most interesting thing in the world, noddling lightly and taking another bite.

"somewhat, yeah. i was the one who found my father's body, and you can imagine… it's not easy for any kid to see their own parent blue in the face, lying lifeless in front of them, and especially knowing their murderer got away. it made me vengeful, but i couldn't act recklessly. i had to set up a bait because i didn't know who it was, but i knew they were coming."

you listen to each of his words so attentively, and you make sure he knows.

"it could've been your friend, jongho, or the others that came along. it could be anyone. it could be all of them. but regardless, whoever it was wanted me dead just like my father and wouldn't have passed up the chance."

you exhale, looking at the prince with sympathy and sadness in your eyes, all this time you really gave him too little credits, one of your hand somehow finding itself on top his resting one and soothing it.

"i can't do much, but i'm here to listen. if we're going to be together for a while, we might as well have each other's back."

and when san finishes his food and actually goes to sleep for the rest of the night (although you did have to fight him about sleeping on the floor), you finally feel at ease, able to go to sleep knowing he's not pushing himself.

san is the first thing you see upon waking up, his figure bending down a couple feet away and drinking out of the costrel.

he knows you're up from the movements, turning to meet your tired eyes.

"good morning."

"good morning, san."

"you should eat first. i left some out for you."

"oh, okay."

you nod politely, throwing the blanket off and getting up from the makeshift bed, but first telling him that you're gonna go wash your face.

"i checked the ewer. there's no more water in there."

"hmm," you hum, attempting to come up with a solution. "i'm gonna go down to the river. i'll be back in a bit."

"wait." his call stops you in track, half your body out the door. "i'd like to come with."

"is that okay? i mean... will that be safe?" because now that the prince is with you, you feel it is your responsibility to keep him out of danger no matter how unskillful you are. you don't want a single sighting putting his life on the line (more than it already is).

"we'll make it quick. besides, i need to wash up as well. i don't feel too clean from all those practices."

the river is actually quite close by, having never been there during your stay in this district but following the sound of nature was relatively easy to do. and you suppose hongjoong chose the spot for this reason.

once there, you're splashing your face immediately and rejoicing in the cool sensation, only just registering san's been watching you the entire time when you turn and meet his piercing gaze.

his expression blank before dropping to a smile at your wide-eye. and the first time that he does, you realize you've never seen him smile, ever. your attention taken away by the deep indentations appearing from his cheeks, and for just a second, your heart feels like it might explode.

but it's his turn with the river, you observing as he mimics you until both your faces are wet and raining with droplets.

"here," you say, pulling out the spare handkerchief you had remember to bring before coming, offering it to him then using the other one for yourself.

he thanks you, about to wipe his face when the striking design catches his eye.

"this is beautiful," he comments, your head snapping his direction. "did you make it yourself?"

you nod shyly.

"i picked up embroidery somewhere after sewing for a while."

the conversation continues on the walk back, san asking the questions because he just grasped the revelation he doesn't know anything about you.

aside from trying to sneak into his castle and being the friend of one of his guards, that's as much as he can recall off the top of his head although you're quite literally in a life or death situation with him.

"you said you picked up embroidery, so are you from the second district?"

san knows almost everyone who lived in the first district, having spent his entire life and becoming familiar with the surrounding neighbors.

during the occasional balls and parties, he'd get acquainted with some from the second districts. but he's never seen you before. if he did, he would probably be able to recognize you.

but he knows that a hobby and skill like embroidery was something only those in the top two could afford. it was a luxury, as much as san hates putting it like that.

you giggle at the thought and shake your head.

"i was a servant for a family from the second, but i'm originally from the fifth. i picked up embroidery because the daughter of the family was pressured into learning and i was there to help sometimes."

"oh..." is all he says.

maybe he expected you to have some noble blood or be from greatness, but the only thing close to the two were the shoes you shined and the people you served.

your entire life, nothing about you was ever great or noble.

you may have ran from the lower district for a better life, but you were never ashamed of where you came from.

it made you who you are, and if anything, you're a survivor.

"yeah..." you mumble, stopping once reaching the shack again.

he picks it up from your tone, correcting himself to make sure you don't misunderstand, "no. i didn't mean it like that. i'm just, curious about you and your background."

"oh?" you squeak, "then what do you want to know, prince."

you take a seat where he was sitting before, reaching for the food he left for you and looking up at him from where you are, wondering what kind of prince would want to know about a commoner like you.

"an iris," he refers to the pattern embroidered on the handkerchief, "was there a reason why you chose it?"

you smile softly, the question taking you back to a lane of memories and nostalgia.

"it was both of my parents' favorite flower. they always did clung onto any sort of hope there was when it came to our living conditions, and father would always used to say the iris not only symbolized that, but also courage and bravery. i don't know how true that is, but i tend to associate the flower with my parents. it was all i managed to take when me and jongho ran from the second district."

"that's sweet," the prince says, making your eyelashes bat as he plops down at the end of the makeshift bed but he never once look away from you. "and where are your parents?"

the death of your parents was once something that was difficult to talk about; a reality that you used to deny because you couldn't accept that they're no longer by your side and sharing the same struggles. because you guys did suffered a lot, but you all had each other.

and suddenly, you only had yourself.

it wasn't until jongho that you started to open up again; learn to let someone into your heart; to share the same struggles and to suffer all over again, but at least with someone by your side once more.

and it's with that lesson that you allow the prince in as well, unveiling some parts of yourself, for some reason feeling like you can entrust it to him.

"they passed away. the fishermen said the sea took them. it's been a long time and i've come to terms with it."

you don't miss the way his chest fall and a sullen look takes over his expression.

"i'm sorry to hear."

his life experiences and pain could never compare to anyone from the lower districts, he understands that all too well; how good and privileged he's had it.

but grief doesn't discriminate, and the feeling is... debilitating.

it makes you go into denial, nothing but a directionless road laying ahead, unable to help but think if you ever will recover.

but he feels a little better after talking to you, a living proof that no matter the loss or grief one goes through, there's a chance he will make it out fine in the end.

you're about to go off to bed when you suddenly remember what hongjoong had told you.

"prince," you call from below, the title just naturally rolling off despite the plenty of time he's made clear you can call him by his name.

"we have to change the dressing on your wound."

you get up to go search through one of the heavy bags, digging for some clean linens and vinegar the others had made sure to pack for the prince.

"hongjoong said we should change it every couple of days," you tell him, sitting at the edge of the bed while he stands up from the sleeping position. "your arm, prince." you gesture and watch as he rolls up his sleeve.

your cheeks for some reason start heating up at the sight, the blinking and nervous twitch of your eyes give it away, causing a giggle to tumble out of the prince at your flustered reaction.

"y/n," he speaks, once you've stared for long enough and still have yet to remove the old cloth. "that's what jongho and hongjoong calls you by."

"y-yes." you nod.

"have you ever tend to a wound before?"

"well, no. but i've been instructed on how to."

"i see." he smiles, and you're about to crack at the man in front of you. beautiful smile, perfect features, and some muscular arms to go along with it.

once you've contained yourself (or at least look like it), you unwrap the worn cut-out cloth and replaces it with a new one, every steps of what hongjoong had laid out followed to the very best of your ability.

"thank you, y/n," the prince says one more time, and the last smile on him for the night makes you think he just might be teasing you.

the past few days that you've spent with the prince, he's proven your expectations and predictions wrong over and over again.

almost like everything you've assumed is untrue in the best way possible. his aloof and stoic ways melting into smiles and laughters when you'd tell him stories about the kids back at the orphanage and how they thought he was a troll.

spending days and nights confined to a small space with someone you just met, the idea sounding awful but the reality actually quite nice because it's comfortable with him.

he not only speaks well, his words always the most soft and unoffending as they can be, but he also listens well.

day by day, the doubts you had--whether he would be able to salvage utopia, changes to the hope and belief that he's more than competent to pull it off.

but there's still questions bothering you; the strangeness of the entire picture in how utopia managed to fall to a state this bad in the first place if the prince is as level-headed as he presents himself.

he at least should've been talking sense into the king.

so you finally ask, during a routine morning where you and san have gotten accustomed to waking up the crack of dawn, sitting facing each other and munching away on portions of food that becomes less the more days pass by.

"san," you start, his name now more comfortable on your lips. it makes him pick his up head from the food to you.

"hongjoong said you have a plan, right? the reason they sent you here was to buy time. i-i was just wondering where does it go from here?" you try your utmost best to not sound meddlesome.

you're just worried.

because as much as you enjoy the time together, the unknown makes you uneasy. you don't want to doubt him but you also don't want everything so far to be for nothing.

it's the prince's personal affairs and not yours, but you just wish for there to be assurances; some kind of proof that speaks he knows what he's doing, because the closer you get to him, the more you fear losing him.

"i have a plan, yes," he answers, the calm demeanor on him a complete contrast to the troubled one on you. "why? are you worried?"

you breathe out, eventually nodding timidly.

"it's just that the state of the kingdom right now is really bad and it's going to take a lot to please the citizens, especially the group of rebellions. the idea of peace just seems so... unreachable."

you already sound like you're about to break down, when the prince--the one actually having to deal with it, looks the most calm and collective.

he acknowledges the concern, thinking it's fairly reasonable. actually, he's surprise everyone's been able to restrain themselves from spiraling for this long.

if he was someone else, he don't think he'll be able to put his trust into an inexperienced prince in hope of him saving the entire nation as well.

"the people of utopia isn't aware, but about a decade ago, the king of aurora, the closest neighboring kingdom to us had offered to help the nation after witnessing the terrible conditions most of the lower districts were suffering from," san reveals, "but my father... he denied the help."

you squeeze your brows in disbelief.

"what--why?"

"the king of aurora only requested for utopia's protections and services in return. as you know, we may lack in every other aspects, but armed forces is our strength. almost every men in the nation has some kind of experience when it comes to fighting or self defense. aurora is a peaceful and harmonious nation, but their men do not have the same training, combats, or skills that we do, and the king of aurora acknowledged the fact. though aurora was very unlikely to get into an altercation with another nation, the king said he would feel a lot better with utopia behind them."

"my father didn't see a point in tying ourselves down, binding an 'unnecessary' responsibility to our back. he said our ancestors' done it for hundreds of years without help and it will continue to be that way. ever since then, aurora has shunned us. they're not gonna start a war over it, but in other words: they hate our guts."

there's a pause from the prince, something shifting in his eyes before he starts again.

"i love and cherish my father. he is my father after all, and most of everything i've been taught were from him. i also understand that some of the things he did were for my mother, me, and my sister. but i wouldn't ever tell him i also think he's selfish; that i disagree with his view of the world; with his way of running things."

the pain in the prince's voice and delivery is seeping, your heart curling at the amount of hurt he must keep to himself, but if you can be the one to lessen it just a little, you will listen to his every words.

"but still, he's my father and i miss him. no matter how selfish and unreasonable he was most of the times, i promise that after everything is over, i will hold a proper burial for him. i will also repay everyone that stood by my side... i promise that."

his volume tapers near the end, his gaze melting into yours at the last statement.

"i also promised i will correct the mistakes of those who came before me, and if it takes my life, at least i'll be content that i went down with my morals. that i fought for what i believed in, even if the ancestors come back to tear me to shreds for it."

you chuckle, attempting to hold back just the smallest tear pricking the corner of your eye because all you ever did was doubt and doubt, and every single time, he always proved you wrong in the best way possible.

"so you're going to attempt to make a truce with aurora?"

he nods.

"i have to try. if we want equality for everyone, we can't do it without the help of aurora. if we do it now, without aide, the nation will fall apart no different than it is now. no amount of transports based on utopia alone will be enough. but aurora's economy; the standing of their nation is stable enough that helping utopia back on its feet will barely feel like a lift of a finger to them."

"but how would the message reach them?"

"on the day that i got attacked, i sent out one of my men, seonghwa. he knows the way around the sea best. by now, considering it's almost been a week, he should have already reached aurora, but it will take another couple of days to return. that's why i need to buy enough time for seonghwa to come back. i know the citizens won't believe it until they see the king and prince yeosang of aurora for themselves."

"and just what if the king and prince rejects the offer?" you're just trying to touch upon all possibilities.

"you see... i've thought of that as well. in fact, there's probably a bigger chance of them dismissing it considering our history and all. but if that was the case, i had already told seonghwa to head for dune next. it will take him at least another week and a half because of the distance, but if worst come to worst, that's our last hope. dune would be a lot harder to get on our side because they're not lacking in anything, their only weakness is they don't have any kind of alliance. and i was hoping after we sign a treaty with aurora, we could try for dune because they'd be more willing then, knowing we also have aurora, but that's only wishful thinking."

"you really thought everything through, huh?" you have to admit, you're impressed.

"you have no idea. every night after my father's passing, i barely got any sleep... until you finally enforced it upon me."

you giggle, meeting a soft smile on the prince's lips.

"well you need it. and seeing as intricate the plan of action is, you're going to need it even more. don't overwork your body, get plenty of rest in preparation of the big day. i believe you'll be able to do it."

there's a quick silence in the air before the prince speaks again.

"thank you... for believing in me, and keeping me sane of all things."

"my pleasure."

"but if hongjoong doesn't show within a few days, or does with the bearer of the bad news, we'd have to be prepared for relocation. they will pick up that i'm not in the castle and will try looking for me. if dune is the alternative, we're going to have to buy even more time."

"here," san says, coming from behind to stand in front of you, pulling out his own.

after observing one of his practices, he had asked how familiar you are with daggers since he recalled ripping it out of your sheath that day.

you said all understanding you have of it were from jongho, though he liked to find fault in your execution, and after a couple demonstrations, the prince seems to agree that there's a few areas you could improve on.

"a dagger is a short distance combat. some of the most basic requirements in becoming somewhat skilled at is, is trying to master the three primary positions."

you watch him get into stance.

"the first one is a downward thrust, usually used for an opponent who's not experienced in knife combat."

he acts out the method, thrusting his weapon into the air and turning to you.

"you try."

you attempt to mimic what he just did, the weapon a lot light and easier on your grip because the training from jongho did pay off in some ways.

"not bad," he comments, "just more confidence, and don't be afraid. because trust, when the enemy is coming, they won't hold back."

he tightens your grip on the dagger before stepping away.

"this certain method can also be used when an opponent is equipped with another melee weapon, or a firearm."

you nod, his encouragement and gentle teaching style as he tries reframing from straight up saying you stink in some ways or forms, is definitely preferred.

"got it! you are a much better teacher than jongho by a mile. you're actually nice to me," you joke, and the most flattered smile acrossing san's lips doesn't go unseen.

you wouldn't ever say it out loud, not to the prince at least.

that though leaving the place and each other's presence will be for a good cause, in some parts of you, you're already starting to dread the separation.

the parts that already grew fond of him in such a short matter of time, you fear there will never be another chance like this. together.

after everything is over, things will go back to the way it was.

he is a prince after all, and you're just... you.

"so, prince, what is the best defense weapon. figure i should ask from only the most competent person in utopia," you talk from your seat, staring up at him as he preps for another hour of practice.

he promised it'll be only an hour today.

"pfft," he blows, "don't say it like that. you might end up unimpressed."

"i mean it."

"you haven't even seen me on the battlefield."

"but i believe in you."

you hop out of your seat to him, tilting your head, "so?"

"i would say a spear. distance is honestly the best defense there is, though i do enjoy practicing with a sword more."

and that's when it happens. all the long days and nights of peace and harmony comes crashing down, from the corner of your eye catching a cloaked figure from far away standing on top one of the hills with a crossbow in their possession.

"prince!" you cry out, pushing his body away from target the hardest ever as he falls to the ground, and then a short second after, the most painful sensation of your chest being struck takes your vision and breath away.

the last thing you see and hear before fading into utter blackness is the sheer horror on the prince's face as his hands are covered with blood, and the desperate call of your name.

"y/n!"

the sound of jongho's voice makes you think you're in a dream, only until your lids are fluttering open that you see the both, scared but relieved expression of your best friend.

"oh my gosh... thank goodness you're alive."

by how tight he's squeezing your hands, you're glad to know you're not dead just yet.

"where am i?" you ask, your voice barely a whisper.

"back at the castle. you were out for about four days."

"four days?" you repeat, when the memories come flooding back all at once and then some. "the prince."

you attempt to sit up but the dull pain from where you've been hit prevents you, your head falling back into the pillow.

"easy," jongho soothes your body back into position, "you lost a lot of blood, and not only that, the arrow had been poisoned. luckily, the castle has shelves of antidotes for it, but we were all worried that there was just the smallest chance you weren't gonna make it."

he pauses briefly, "the prince got you here in a day and a half... he felt really bad about what happened. he was by your side the entire time and only just left yesterday night when it was announced the king and prince of aurora have arrived."

"aurora have agreed to a truce?" your tone weak, but still filled with excitement, so happy for the prince.

"yes. and hopefully the prince can get them to sign a treaty. that's the plan. it's still going to take them another two or three days to reach the first district, but the prince wanted to go welcome them formally."

"will he be okay?"

"he's under disguise. but you should get some rest and stop worrying about someone else when you're in a worse condition than them," jongho snarks.

"just making sure..."

a smirk graces your friend, a coy look on him.

"what exactly happened back there that's now making you two act like an old married couple forced to be apart? i've known you for longer than the prince and he looked like he was in more distress than i was."

"nothing that is your business," you dismiss, hoping your cheeks doesn't tint a color that gives it away, a chuckle rolling out of jongho at that.

"you used to want to tell me everything. but fair enough. rest and wait until your body is fully healed. i'll visit you every day to update."

it's hard to wrap your head around the fact you didn't wake up for four days--which, more so, should've been the highlight, but you're more intrigued that the prince was by your side up until the last minute he had to go.

you don't want to get overly giddy about it; go beyond what's appropriate and assume that he did so because of another reason, and not just because he felt bad.

but you do wish to see him soon. even if just for a bit.

the next few days is a routine, usually consisting of jongho welcoming you with a wholesome breakfast that's more fulfilling than breads and dried meats, then another meal at dinner.

you're in bed for most of the time, your view usually the ceiling of the castle or the empty space around you, everyone busy and occupied now that the plan is becoming a reality.

jongho tries his best to visit you every day, and hongjoong on the occasion to check your condition, but if they're not patrolling outside, they're in halls discussing the next course of actions.

you've heard that the prince have returned just last night with the royals of aurora, not a single peace or quiet outside of your room since.

you can only hope that the loud and muffled voices outside is an indication that everything is going to work out for the prince; for the kingdom of utopia.

laying around in bed all day, only watching as the sun comes up and down as the wind sways the branches outside the window, wishing you could contribute more, if anything than just wait around all day feeling absolutely useless.

the first creak of the door ever since morning is heard, jongho having told you he won't be able to bring the next meal as he'd be out with the other guards but said someone else would.

and every time, no matter how hard you try burying the inappropriate sentiment, you wish it was the prince, even if just to see him for a minute.

you haven't seen him since that day.

but still, you're grateful to have any interactions at all. even if it's not the prince.

"hey," hongjoong greets, a thin smile on as he goes to take a seat on the stool facing the bed.

"hey hongjoong," you return, finally able to sit up without feeling like your gut's about to spill out.

"you doing better?"

you nod.

"a lot better compared to before."

"good. thought i should drop by to let you know about what's going to happen the next couple of days," his voice a deeper, stern tone, "the prince and royals of aurora will be going down the districts, one by one. the prince wants to let everyone know of the upcoming changes and fix that he has in plan. me and jongho will be away, but yunho and the rest of the guards will stay in the castle with the queen, the princess, and you."

"and how long are you guys going to be gone?"

hongjoong shrugs. "really depends. it could be a week, it could be more than that. traveling down to the fifth and coming back up here is gonna be a while. but as quick as possible, i hope."

"okay..." you frown. "just, stay safe."

you care for their safety and wellbeings more than anything. all three people of whom you're most familiar with, going off and risking their lives again. you're going to feel a certain type of way about it.

but they're doing it for a good cause. for the nation. for everyone. and so you allow to put your heart at rest just a little bit.

"don't worry. aurora brought some protections as well, and if we can convince the second district now overrun by outlaws, the rest of them should be easy."

hongjoong leaves after some last words of encouragment, and him wishing you a fast healing process.

later that night, they all left for the lower districts as stated.

the castle grows increasingly quiet, all ruckus from before now dwindled down to almost nothing.

the guards are usually busy patrolling outside, even more now that the prince is out, and the only people that seems to actually be around are the queen and princess.

the princess is the one to bring your meals, and you feel awful about the fact when it should be the other way around.

but she is wonderful. soft-spoken, elegant in her manners, and always with a smile on her face although you know it's not easy for anyone, especially what she's going through.

she bears almost no resemblance to san, but there's still some tell-tale features, like their eyes. the same foxy and slanted characteristic trademark on both siblings that looks so mellow on the princess, but entirely menacing on the prince.

"your tea."

the soft call of her voice would get you up from bed immediately, scooting over to thank her as you two meet eyes.

once you start feeling a lot better, able to stand on your feet and support yourself fully, you stroll the garden with the princess as she reminisce about everything crossing both of your path.

"i, too, wanted to be trained in weapons and self defense, but father said it wasn't suitable for someone like me. he would always take me out to the garden instead, in hope i'd develop a liking for it just so he didn't have to deal with the persistence. and i did... i did blossomed a love for gardening."

you scowl at the revelation.

"well, that's not right."

"it's not, but it was my father's order. he was a stubborn man and didn't like to listen to anyone. i wish i could say i saw anything else for father's ending."

both the prince and princess seems to share a mutual feeling regarding the father figure. though they understand the deeply flawed king, it's hard and conflicting when it's your own father.

"brother taught me what he could, which wasn't always possible because father was always around. but san is a good person... despite the amount of pressure father put on him, i believe he would be a great king. better than father himself."

a smile cross your lips at the mention of san.

"i believe he would be a great king, too," you add. you know he will be, and you wish for nothing more than all his dreams to come true.

"brother san seems to have taken a great liking to you," the princess brings up, recalling the signs and body language of her younger brother when he was with you despite your sleeping state and lack of awareness.

an act of affection and fondness she has never seen the prince give anyone before. not even the noble daughters that would show for events.

"oh, no," you deny, shaking your head, but the way your stomach swoops at the statement is real.

"why not?" she tilts her head, a brow raising. "do you not like him?"

"no--i mean, i do. i like the prince as a friend, but anything more than that would be innappropriate, i think." your volume tapers and your eyes shy away from hers, but the soft giggle makes you snap back.

"love is a beautiful thing. you shouldn't run from it, no matter the class difference or adversities. i know my brother wouldn't."

she smiles and pat your shoulder, abruptly taking your hand and leading the way out of the garden.

"so tell me, did you know that the kingdom didn't used to be divided into districts?"

you hum from behind, "actually, i do. i read it in an old history book i found back at the orphanage."

the kingdom used to just be utopia as a whole. no divisions of anything or labels to anyone. but when the capital found out they could cheat the system and hog all resources and supplies by dividing up the nation, the district system was implemented.

and those who lived furthest from the capital suffered the worst due to change, which was why the fifth district, a once fine ground for fishermen and access to the sea, declined overtime due to the lack of available care.

"yes," she mumbles, letting go of your hand and turning around, your feet screeching with the sudden stop. "brother wishes to abolish the system, after mostly everything gets taken care of, of course. by then, none of this 'social class' would matter as much."

you know she means it from the good of her heart; soul just as kind as her brother, but it is not only the struggle of being a fifth district kid, but also the reality of being a no one as compared to a prince.

you get accustomed to the newer routine, waking up the crack of dawn to go help the princess prepare breakfast the best your healing body can. just the smallest, throbbing pinch still there when you sit up, but you're fine nonetheless.

the morning when the sun hasn't even shown its head yet, your body still tired and mind hazy, the opening of the door gets a silent groan out of you as you turn to the source expecting the princess to have something for you so early.

but the sight jolts you from sleep, and you know that it's him, even in the faintest lighting.

"good morning," his voice like velvet has you sitting up, your gaze trained on him the entire time he goes to take a seat at the stool.

"good morning, prince," you return, the smallest amount of joy hiding in your delivery because you really are so happy to see him again.

he went back to the princely attire coloured in white, and his hair a slicked back kind that makes him so handsome, although some strands are loose and slightly messy from the many days gone by.

"san," he corrects you, the sound of his actual name so much better when you say it.

"san," you repeat, a short giggle after that he joins along. "so you're back already. how did it go?"

your expression changing to stern that instant, if you stare at him any longer, you might just burn a hole from how serious you are.

"a lot better than i expected," he answers, a thin smile on as he scoots closer. "i really owe it to the king and prince of aurora. if they hadn't took pity in me, i don't know what else i would've done. but for some reason, they chose to believe in me, and i really am so grateful for that."

he must've been so scared but unwilling to show it. unwilling to give away the fear that the kingdom in his hand is so close to crumbling down by a mere inch, everything could fall apart just like that.

but he had to persist through the hardships and doubts; masking any weaknesses because it would scare away the people if he did. if the ruler of the kingdom itself barely has any faith in the situation.

you reach for his hand, the stronge urge to comfort him as the soft look on you melt into his.

"san, they believe in you because they can see that you're capable. and i believe as well, that you from now on, you will make utopia a better place for the people."

he thinks that you always have such a way with words; how they always make him feel so warm and at ease every time. it's never felt so easy with anyone before.

"y/n," he calls almost in a whisper, taking his hands out of your grasp to now enclose yours. "i apologize for not visiting you. but as soon as i returned and had cleared everyhing with the royals of aurora, i came to you immediately."

"no. it's okay. you have a duty as the prince of the nation, i totally understand. there's no need to apologize."

you can feel his grip on you getting tighter, his eyes a type of desperate but also affectionate.

"but still, you saved my life. you traded yours for mine. to me, you're just as important."

you're surprise by the confession, an array of butterflies dancing in the pit of your stomach and you can see the prince growing more tense, but nonetheless, he persists.

"before i go any further, can i ask you one question first?"

you nod at that. "go ahead."

"you and jongho..." he starts, only to thin out before trying again, "are you guys... dating? or, well, do you like him?"

he's nervous and if he wasn't holding you, he would probably start fidgeting to hide the fact.

"me and jongho?" you quirk an eyebrow, failing to hold back the snicker from the thought while the prince just stares dumbfoundedly.

"i love jongho, but he's more like family than anything. we've been through a lot together but i can't see him in that light."

you've given similar answers out a couple times, especially to the other servants who thought you both had a crush on each other.

the prince's chest drop in relief and you can't hide the amusement you get from it.

"what? you thought me and jongho had something?" you can't stop giggling.

"well, i just had to make sure," he says, a hint of embarrassed and shy that is incredibly cute.

he wouldn't tell you that the one time he actually decided to come in the midst of everything, jongho was already by your side and if you didn't look so happy, he wouldn't have went back because he could tell jongho is someone special to you.

"so?" you await what he has to say, the eagerness only making him more nervous.

the grip on you loosening up to a more softer but more intimate one, one of his thumb running over your hand before he speaks.

"i know this might be too sudden and we haven't known each other for long, but, if your heart isn't taken by anyone, i'd like to ask for a vow."

you just stare ahead and wait for him to finish the sentence, your heart beating exceptionally loud.

"i understand it's a bit abrupt, but... i-i've never felt this way with anybody else. there's something special when i'm you, and i'd like to ask for a vow; a promise that we'll reserve our hearts for each other."

he's so scared, willing to take the chance at first because he will regret it if he doesn't. but now, he's afraid he might've ruined whatever he had with you in the first place, retracting immediately when there's only silence from you.

"but it's not an obligation. you don't have to. i'm just--"

"--i would love to," you cut, watching the panic on his face dissipate that instant.

"really?"

"yes. i would love to," you assure once again, the thinnest smile crossing your lips that soon turns bigger when he returns one.

he's absolutely over the moon to know the feeling is mutual; that what he felt and got from the time together wasn't just because you were compelled to treat him equal to his title.

that something more came out of it.

"but..." you mumble, the smile fading when reality sets in again. "is this going to be okay? you're a prince, and i'm just... me."

"of course it's going to be okay. i don't care who or what you are," he comforts, delivery incredibly passionate, you can't fight it. "but more importantly, before you give me your words once and for all, i need to know if you'll be okay with the conditions first. you can be honest. i won't be upset because i would never try to hold you back regarding anything."

"i'm listening," you acknowledge.

"the citizens of utopia have decided to give me a chance. that chance is not only to salvage the nation, but to also prove to them that i'm capable of leading and won't repeat the same mistakes those who came before we did. i don't know how long it's going to take; specifically how many years. but i will crack down on any remaining harmful outlaw members, i will be traveling in and out of the kingdom a lot, and i will be working on making this nation a better place for everyone. that is something i promised to do, and i will do just that."

he takes a deep breath and start again, eyes on yours. "so if you don't want to wait, i won't hold it against you. if there's things or someone better out there waiting for you, you don't have to accept my proposal. but just if you do... if you're willing to wait for me, once the nation is in a stable state and i don't have to stress too much about being all over the place, i promise then, that i will ask for your hand in marriage."

the bold declaration does take you by surprise, hard to grasp that the prince of all people would want to marry you.

"i know it's a lot to take in," he says, "but you don't have to give me an answer now. whenever you're ready."

you shake your head.

"no--i mean, i would love to. no matter how long i have to wait, i think it'll be worth it. after all, the nation is your priority and the people needs you."

he's taken aback by how fast you made up your mind, but overjoy that you want it just as much as he does. he can't be any happier.

"you're sure you want to do this?" he asks again just to be sure, but crossing his fingers you don't just so happen to change your mind.

you nod earnestly.

"i'm sure. besides, i doubt any guy would ever be interested in me let alone want to get married."

he chuckles, a sound you can to listen all day.

"even if they are, they can't get you now. so i don't want to see any of them trying to woo you or something. and you can't give in because you already gave me your words."

it's your turn to laugh, the jealousy endearing on him.

"well how would i know you'll keep your words, too? what if i wait and wait until i'm a grandma with grey hair only for you to take it back? marry someone else instead and say you don't want me anymore?" you tease.

"tskk," he sneer, "that won't happen, because i would never promise anything i knew i couldn't do. so you don't have to worry."

a reassuring smile spreads across his lips as so does yours, seconds passing by when the silence consumes the room and the both of you just stare at each other, completely smitten.

you notice the slightly fallen strands covering his eyes, going to move it with your finger but your hand stopping at his cheek after, a staring contest ensuing before something comes over you, leaning over to deliver a kiss to his other cheek.

when you pull back, the shy and flustered reaction of the prince brings another giggle out from you.

"i believe you, then. go and show everyone that they made the right choice in giving you a chance. go and make the nation a better place for the citizens. no matter how long, when you come back, i'll be right here... for you."

age 20:

you're twenty years old when the district system is abolished, and when you're nearing twenty-one, it will have been a year since you've spoken to the prince, and will be a few months that you've last seen jongho.

he had been given an opportunity to stay at the castle as one of the prince's permanent companions and took it.

as for you, you moved back to what used to be the fifth district, your heart and soul still full of regard for the place no matter how far you run because every last memory of your parents are rooted here.

you didn't want and couldn't ask for anything in return for the loyalty to the royal family during their toughest time, only taking the coins they had kindly insisted on giving and proceeded to find somewhere to settle. make a life for yourself.

the first few months after declaration of adjustments were as tough for anyone else as it was for you. no matter how positive of an effect, changes are always difficult.

the nobles having to reclaim their homes again after migrating from fear of the outlaws; the party finally retreating, and the former having to piece everything back together with the thought in mind that everything won't be the same, but it will be fair.

the lower districts benefitting the most from the changes but time is their biggest adversary, because though good things are coming, they're not going to come in an instant. having to wait days, months, years, for the full glory to show can be defeating.

but nevertheless, it's coming, and tomorrow will be better than yesterday and so forth. a year later and you can already notice the difference, especially the sea that once gave up on the nation ready to ripple once more.

where you're currently at, you couldn't have done it without the help of those around you. hongjoong who gave you full rights to his hideout in the fifth district because he won't have the use for it anymore, having also been promoted to work alongside the prince.

and with the coins the royal family gave you, you put it into materials to hone the skill you're best at, now finally making a living off sewing and embroidery.

over the year, you've renovated the small shack to your liking with the knowledge you carried from your father, building something for yourself you can call home.

you can still recall that feeling; the first sinking realization of being alone and the taste of freedom. you no longer belonged to somebody or owed anything to anyone. no longer the poor kid just waiting for a better life.

you were your own person, and it feels amazing to be free, though you think it would be even better if he was there.

the thought of him crossing your mind every couple of days, wishing for nothing but only the best for him, hopeful that one day, he will return to fulfill the promise.

"those are some fine handkerchiefs you have there," a young man's voice stops you, spinning around to greet him with a smile.

"you crafted them yourself?" he asks, his tone a type of mischievious that you don't even read into.

"yes," you simply reply, always putting on your best behavior when there's a possible customer. "would you like to take a look at them for yourself?"

"i'd love to."

you untangle the basket from your arm and start going through the many fabrics of your creation.

"wow. not only is the creator herself beautiful, but so are the creations. i've never seen these kind of patterns before," he comments, a smirk on that is both amused and flirty, you can't help the way your cheeks immediately reddens.

the man only seems to find the sight even more endearing as a snicker bubbles out of him while you're still just standing there because you've never met someone so shameless before.

you're about to say something when an arm is thrown around your shoulders instead, turning to the source and your body an immediate mix of relieved, joy, and a skipping heartbeat.

"san..." you say by natural instinct, his unreadable expression meeting yours before moving to the young man in front.

"i'm sorry, i told her to not go wandering by herself but she wouldn't listen. let's go back, honey."

he snatches the basket out of your hold with his other hand and hauls you back the other way.

"i've only been gone for a year and you're already flirting with another man?" he accuses once you're able to flee from his clutch, his steps following right behind you as a pout overtakes his face.

"i wasn't flirting. i was trying to make money," you weakly defend, focus on the path back to your place that you believe the word 'cottage' would be more fitting for.

"you're way too beautiful and talented to be out there spending your days talking to young men."

"pfft," you blow, "and you're way too handsome and princely to be traveling everywhere and going to other kingdoms in the presence of other noble and royal daughters."

"and i'd still choose you, baby."

your heels dig the dirt flooring, snapping around from the pet name, a laughter at the verge of coming out.

san can see the amusement on your face, only smirking in response.

"what? i know you like being called that."

this time, you really do laugh and he follows right after, absolutely in love with everything about you. whether that's snarking back or laughing at him.

"whatever you say, prince," you poke more fun at him before dragging him by the wrist into your place.

"cute what you've done," he pass a comment while you put the basket away.

"yes. and i have just about everything i need."

it's just a little bigger than the hideout back at what used to be the third district, but it has the same convenience in that it's close to the river, cutting out trips to the bathhouse which saves a lot of time.

he nods, the dimpled smile never leaving his face.

"so... what brings you here?" you eventually ask, sitting next to him on your bed, the atmosphere shifting because despite enjoying the banter and mischief of it all, you miss him and haven't seen him in over a year.

"we just returned and arrived at the port this morning, so i wanted to come visit and see how you're doing. you know, to make sure no one was trying to sweep you off by your feet."

you playfully land a slap to his shoulder, snickering.

"you're ridiculous. all year long and my love life is so dry, but the one day someone acknowledges me, you just have to come back," you reply with sarcasm.

"i'm sorry to ruin that for you, but you can't take it back. you promised to marry me, and i will make sure every guy in the kingdom knows that."

you remember the first time meeting san, his state of grief making him almost an entirely different person. quiet, stoic, and always in distress, it's the most wonderful surprise that he's actually a child at heart.

able to let loose once in a while and just have fun.

"no need to. you won't have any competitions at all."

he chuckles quietly at that and closes any remaining distance between you two.

"you speak too lowly of yourself when you're the most beautiful girl i've ever seen."

you bat your eyelashes, shying away from his gaze. you just blush way too easy.

he chuckles at the sight and moves the subject along, "but i also came because i have good news. the king and prince mingi of dune have agreed to a treaty."

"really? t-that's great!" you stumble your wording, beyond happy for him because this was everything he wanted and planned for.

"yeah. it wasn't easy but the fact we have aurora did most of the convincing. dune was... interesting to say the least," he says, briefly recalling the month he spent at the kingdom.

"you did it, though" you smile. "it's only going to get better from now on."

"i hope so. but it seems the real challenge just began. this place is going to need a lot of work."

"that, it is. but for now, you just need to relax. rest a little and eat if you already haven't. i can make you some soup, would you like that?"

he nods.

"i would love that."

he loves how comfortale and easy it is with you. when the weight on his shoulders gets too heavy, he can always rely on you to make it better, even if just for a bit.

"so where do i sleep?" he asks, walking back in after washing himself by the river with the towel you gave him.

the day had been nothing short of a dream, eating and cleaning together and just small exchanges that multiplies the butterflies in your stomach.

you wish everyday was like this.

"the floor," you joke, the response making him scowl.

"i'm carrying the nation on my back and you're gonna make me sleep on the floor?" he throws the towel over his shoulder, his wet strands of hair swaying along with his movements.

"that bed looks big enough for the two of us." he points with his chin. "besides, we're gonna get married anyways."

you roll your eyes, snatching the towel from him as you go to ruffle his wet hair with it, his shout of protests underneath coming out muffled.

"fine." you land the fabric back around his neck, crawling into bed and scooting to the wall to make space.

he lays down and faces you, your gaze burning into each other's when he cranks out a smile.

"i'll be leaving in the morning and you might not see me again for a while after. don't you think you should give me something to remember you by?"

your brows furrow, your mind jumping to conclusion considering the position you guys are in and the tone in which he said it.

"i'm not gonna have sex with you," you spit, prompting the loudest laughter ever from him, followed by confusion from you.

"no, of course not. i was talking about another of your handkerchiefs."

"oh..." you murmur, feeling embarrassed.

"not until we get married at least. then, we can do it," he states with confidence, the thought of taking you to bed and inserting control another way is tempting, and he can't wait for the day.

you smack his chest lightly, as flustered as you are, you can't help the giggle that slips out.

a few seconds of silence pass by before he starts moving closer, his breath ghosting your skin and finger going to caress your cheek.

"i really do want to kiss you right now, though," he confess, "if that's okay with you."

you nod as much as your pillowed head allows you to.

"that's okay with me."

you close your eyes shut, trying to keep from flinching as you await his kiss, moments later only for his lips to crash against yours, his hand moving to your jaw and his body pressing forward as the kiss deepens.

you kiss him like it's the last kiss between you and him; like your life depends on it, the bed creaking under as he takes it upon himself to connect your bodies.

he pulls back much to your disappointment, both of your chests heaving and trying to catch your breath, his forehead bumped with yours and tip of his nose brushing your own.

"good enough," he speaks, his breath still not yet returned, "any more than this and i might not be able to contain myself."

you giggle, placing a soft peck on his cheek, flashing one last smile.

"goodnight, prince."

"have a safe trip, and take care of yourself," you bless, blue in your heart as san makes his way back to you after speaking to the coachman.

all the laughters and butterflies of yesterday won't be experienced again until who knows how long. he will be away after this, and you will miss him dearly.

you wish he could stay but you know he can't. he has something bigger and better to worry about.

he stops before you, melancholy in his eyes as well. he doesn't want to leave you but he has to. and as much as he wants to take you along, he can't let you bear the same responsibilities and weight.

he wants for you to be there, when he already made everything better.

"you take care of yourself, too." his hands naturally finding itself cupping your cheeks. "don't overwork yourself."

"i won't."

you place your own hands over his, desperate to salvage his touch for one last time.

"when can i expect to see you again?" you ask.

"i don't have a definite answer, but i'll be back. i promise."

you two share one last kiss before you watch him go off, blue still in your heart, but you know that someday, he'll come back, and it will be to stay.

age 23:

you're twenty-three years old when there's a knock at the door one suspicious morning.

living in the middle of nowhere, and even over the years, you're only able to count on one hand the range of selection there is when it comes to who it could be.

"hongjoong?" you squint, the man you haven't seen in forever looking slightly more buffed; mature, his hair styled and attire new and shiny.

"great seeing you again," he greets, still on horseback and glancing down at you.

"would you like to come inside? for some tea or a drink?" you ask, figuring it's only proper etiquette you do.

"i'm good. i only came to deliver something."

you continue squinting, one hand shielding your eyes from the early sun, reaching out when hongjoong hands you a letter and unfolding it.

"an invitation from the prince?" you read, incredulity as you shoot up to look at him.

"yes. the prince is finally accepting his accession to king and the coronation will be held a week from now. that is all i have for today. i have to head back soon."

you have so many more questions but hongjoong already turns his back before you can ask them, settling for staring at the ink in awe when the sound of his voice picks your head up again.

"i hope to see you there. the prince will be expecting you."

you leave for the capital the following day, packing only essentials and enough coins, taking along pearl, the white horse you had purchased a year back for traveling purposes.

there's been a lot changes in the four years since san took the reign, all of them for the better, of course.

some of the homes have been revamped, some new ones added, and everywhere you passed, there are greens and beauty in each sceneries.

the citizens look happier, kids a lot less miserable and even those in the orphanages are coming around to the new implements along with those in progress to solve overcrowding.

members of the outlaws have dwindled over time and quieted.

for the first time in hundreds of years, utopia is able to live up to its name in some form; a place of ideal perfection.

so you couldn't fret too much; be upset that in the three years that have passed, san's only visited you once. because if it wasn't for him, the nation wouldn't have been able to achieve the current state.

you travel to the capital with hope, expectation, and excitement at the fact you will be seeing him again; a strong belief that everything will feel just the same as last time.

you stop at inns to rest when the nights fall and start again at dawn, reaching the destination in five days total, the day before san's coronation.

there isn't any difference to the castle, not even a bit. a touch of nostalgia hitting you when thinking back to the event four years ago.

entrance is easy to get through, showing both of the guards who seems to recognize you, the letter.

tying your horse to the nearest tree, you proceed to the door with a pounding heart, banging on it twice before the castle door creaks from the other side, absolutely no idea who the person could be.

"y/n!"

your eyes widen at the sight, that nervousness replaced by delight.

"jongho!"

before he can get another word out, you're already in his arms, the warmth of your best friend something you missed greatly in the full year you haven't seen him.

you can him hear giggling in your hair, pulling away to that goofy smile of his as one settles on your lips as well.

"you came," he simply says.

"of course i did."

jongho takes you inside, your nosy eyes wandering the interior that's also the same as before but still dazzling with all its history, cracks in some of the wall, and antiques.

you greet the queen and the princess who only gets more beautiful by the years, them welcoming you with warm smiles and you can tell immediately the new changes other than their appearances.

they sound happier; no other burdens or weight pulling them down, carrying it around like a haunting that won't go away.

you walk around the courtyard with jongho after, finally a time and place to catch up. all those time of being with each other, you didn't think you could survive if he wasn't by your side, but to have gone four long years only seeing him once in a blue moon, you'd say that's some character development.

"how are things here for you?" you ask him, walking alongside shoulder to shoulder.

"amazing," he answers almost instantly, "it's crazy. i never thought i'd get the chance to work in the capital, but the royal family's castle? with the prince? it's everything i've ever wanted."

you can't stop smiling, his tone telling of just how much he means what he just said.

"that's great. i'm happy for you. you did always say you wanted all those training to go into something."

he nods.

"and you? how are things down there?"

"much better. it's coming together. the people's the most tame i've ever seen them."

jongho hums in acknowledgement.

"i heard you're going to become queen," he suddenly brings up, and you almost choke in return.

"and who the hell said that?"

"--i did."

the familiar voice that isn't jongho makes the both of you turn around, your stomach dropping and heart palpitating because you know all too well who it belongs to.

you can only stare breathless as he takes a step closer, your throat dry.

he's just as mesmerizing as you remember but like hongjoong, time have passed and he has gotten more bulky, manly, and handsome if that's even possible.

"i'm glad to see you can come," he mumbles, a charming smile on that render your knees weak.

jongho clears his throat, attempting to hide a smirk as he goes to excuse himself politely and walks back inside, leaving you stranded in the presence of san.

everything still feels the same with him.

"yeah. i got the letter," you reply, glancing around the empty area, "though it seems i might have gotten a tad excited."

he snickers, and oh... how you have missed the sound.

"you're the only one i gave a personal invitation to," he unveils.

"oh." your eyes swell, only to break the tension after. "then i guess i'm special."

"you are," he assures, closing the distance and taking one of your hand. "i have promised you that once utopia is stable enough, i will ask for your hand in marriage."

you watch as he goes to pull something out of the pocket of his suit, one of his knees pointed to the ground, his entire body falling with it.

"and now that i've finally reached that goal... y/n, will you marry me?"

it takes a moment for you to process everything, overwhelmed with joy and happiness before you can properly nod.

"yes. of course."

and he will marry you, after the rise to king and acceptance of his title as the ruler of utopia, keeping the promise just as he did to every others.

permanent taglist: @moonchele

a/n: not me talking shit abt wanting broken era to be over only to go & write a 19k oneshot. but i loved writing this & had a lot of fun bc it was v different from what i'd usually write

#i don't know shit abt politics #so go easy #ateez x reader #ateez fluff #ateez angst #choi san x reader #san x reader #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines

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ninimuhllover · 20 days

Text

"You have pretty eyes"

Pairing: Nika mühlx!fem!reader

Requested:no

Warnings:cursing,fluff,no mentions of y/n,reader refered to as her,she,hers,kissing

"Kissing, I hope they caught us Whether they like or not" kk sung while we were driving to the amusement park"I wanna show you off,I wanna show you off" I sang with her I turn the radio down a bit because Paige and azzi were talking but Nika was quiet "hey you okay Nika?" I ask while slightly turned towards her "huh" she said looking up "I asked if you were okay?" She slightly blushed "oh yeah I'm just nervous" she smiled "oh why are you nervous" I asked while smiling "I have never really liked rollercoasters" she said shyly "oh that's okay I'll hold your hand then" she blushed really hard I turn back around and turn the radio back up "Somethin' different about you Love it when he hit and smack too Baby, lemme lick on your tattoos That's true that I like pda Take it to a seedy place Suck a little dick in the bathroom" I sang with kk some more"Who that man with the big strong hands On her ass in the club with the paps? Baby, that's you Front seat chillin' with the window down I be ten toes down on the dash getting' fast food" we sang(mainly yelled) while pulling into the parking lot for the park"Take you 'round the world, they don't have to understand Rub it in their face, put a rock on her hand"we sang turning off the car "alright y'all ready for this" kk said I stepped out the car and grabbed my bag and put it overy shoulder when I felt someone grab my hand seeing it was Nika I didn't mind "okay where are we going frist"asked azzi "well since we got the express passes we can really go anywhere" I said to azzi as we were walking to the entrance "why don't we get those cups we can refill for free" kk said while we got in line to check in "nah I was thinking about thirsting to death" Paige said jokingly "hey that's you" kk said

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ Time skip ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

"I kinda wish that we didn't have the express passes" Nika said as we were walking towards a ride"why?" I said "because then we can wait in line and then I wouldn't be so nervous" she said "yeah I guess that's reasonable" I said smiling at her "let's ride that one" I said pointing to one I saw from afar we all started walking to the ride and went through the express line getting faster I could see nika getting more and more nervous so I squeezed her hand she smile at the gesture with a tiny hint of red on her cheeks "don't be scared it's gonna be fun" I say to reassure her she nods once we got sat on the ride her grip on my hand got even tighter when the ride started moving her grip on my hand was so tight but I didn't really care as long as she was comfortable "it's okay" I say to her the some people behind us started yelling when we were moving upwards we soon reached the top "just breath" I say to her it soon dropped and pretty much everyone was screaming her grip never let lose the ride came to a stop and we got off "was that fun?" i asked "actually yeah" she smiled "how about we go get churros?" I asked she nodded as we walked to the churros stand the walk was further than I expected

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚time skip˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

"two churros please" I asked the cashier he nodded and grabbed them "thank you" I said as he handed them to me i handed on to Nika as I took a bite "mm this is good" she said "yeah but the chocolate sauce taste like shit" (speaking from personal experience) I said disgusted "meh I'm in the middle about it" I smile at her "how about we go on the Ferris wheel next"she said "sure" I say surprised she would want to go on a ride that soon after the first one we started walking towards the Ferris wheel still hand in hand we walked through the express line and sat down in a cart sitting across each other to balance the cart the Ferris wheel started to move up wards" wanna take a picture" she nodded I quickly moved over beside her as the cart rocked back and forth I pulled out my phone and pressed the camera put up a peace sign while she put up two while smiling I took a couple of pictures and since we were so close when I turned towards her our noses almost touched "has anyone ever told you that 𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙩𝙩𝙮 𝙚𝙮𝙚𝙨?" She breathed out and leaned in when our lips touched It felt like everything was coming together that I could die happy I never wanted it to end but we both pulled away "I have liked you for so long"she said smiling at me "I have liked you for so long too" we were both blushing when we got of the ride and stated to walk towards a new ride

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚time skip˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

"where have you two been" azzi asked us when we walked up to the car "we got kinda lost" i said we kinda did but it was good because we wouldn't have kissed "mhm sureeee" Paige said slyly "and there's some news" said Nika while smiling kks face lit up like she already new "Paige you better give me my twenty dollars" she said beaming like a kid "huh there was a bet" I say shocked Nika and azzi were laughing while Paige stomped like a kid and kk jumped for joy "I can't with y'all" I said azzi hugged me "it's okay y'all are cute" she whispered to me while smiling after all of that we got into the car "and you better not forget to cash app me my twenty p" kk said while paige huffed we all laughed "yeah yeah don't rub it in"Paige said

﹒⪩⪨﹒

Kinda short I'm really bad at putting periods and stuff but I hope this was okay it's my first actual writing I most likely spelt things wrong but oh well no one's perfect I don't actually know if Nika doesn't like rollercoasters it was just an idea I hope you enjoyed it and please please request please don't copy me my work with out asking 🩷🤍

#nika muhl #nika mühl smut #wnba basketball #uconn women’s basketball #nika muhl x reader #seattle storm #wnba

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sweet-evie · 8 months

Text

A Piece of the Whole

A glimpse into the life of a single dad who's doing his best.

masterlist || pt 2

Content ⚠️: Established Relationship, afab!oc, fem!oc, nameless!oc, she/her/hers pronouns for Satoru's S/O, Tragedy, Childbirth, Maternal Death, Mentions of Blood, Angst, singleparent!gojo, dad!gojo

Never Grow Up Pt 1

May 5, 2012: Sanno Hospital

Throat tight and heart shattered, Satoru choked down the remainder of his grief and promised himself the luxury of breaking down when he was alone. He couldn’t do it now… Not here. Not in front of doctors who offered him sympathies. Not in front of Shoko who sat beside him with equally mournful eyes.

How would he even begin to tell Megumi and Tsumiki?

The latter was especially excited through the phone when he and his partner rushed to the emergency ward almost a full day ago when her water broke.

Almost as if she read his mind, Shoko laid a gentle hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “We should get things sorted out. Finish the paperwork and get the kids.”

Satoru swallowed around two mouthfuls of cotton balls and pushed his blackout sunglasses further up his nose — a sorry attempt at hiding how defeated he felt and how his eyes were full to bursting with unshed tears. It almost felt wrong to start moving again, as if the world hadn’t stopped turning the moment she took her last labored breath.

Logic told him this wasn’t the end… He was still Satoru Gojo — still the head of the Gojo clan, still saddled with the responsibility of instructing first year students at Jujutsu Tech, still needed to exterminate curses that cropped up too frequently for his liking. Being a father to a newborn was an added responsibility that he looked forward to for the past nine months and it was all because he had his Love by his side. He promised his lover and his would-be daughter his time and commitment, because if he couldn’t shoulder the burden of sheltering his baby in his own body and going through painful labor to deliver said baby into the world, then he would pour all his effort into taking care of the mother of his child and his new baby.

His Love did the work — uncomfortable, strenuous work that cost her her body image, her mental well-being on some especially hard days, and her general comfort.

What a woman…

What a woman she had been.

He’d asked her once why any woman would willingly do this to herself, knowing the possible complications, the risk, the changes, the toll, and she had smiled at him — amber eyes glinting in the afternoon light of the apartment they called ‘home’ — and told him that any woman who willingly went through pregnancy allowed it for different reasons. But for her, it was because—

“Loving her is loving a piece of you. And I love you wholly, Satoru.”

The strong smell of antiseptic brought him back from the memory he had been reminiscing about. The busy humdrum of a hospital outside the private room reminded him that his life might have ground to a halt, but others’ didn’t.

The Love of his life perished at the cost of delivering the baby she loved so much, and the world wouldn’t care.

“What do I tell her family?” Satoru mumbled, giving Shoko a verbal response at last.

“The truth. You can’t exactly hide it.”

Maybe he could get away with having his Mom deal with that. Their families had never been exceptionally close, but Satoru figured it was the least his mother could do after the woman had initially expressed her disapproval when they announced her pregnancy to his clan.

The main gripes had been the fact that she was not a sorcerer, they were not married, and his lover did not possess any sort of public influence that could benefit the Gojo clan.

Not that it mattered now…

His Love had passed away.

“At least her family would hate me enough not to bother with trying to file for custody. I don’t think they’d be happy about the baby either.”

“I doubt they’d be unhappy. It doesn’t matter if they do try to file, Gojo. Your parenting rights exceed theirs.”

“I know.”

Satoru stared at the empty bed and its flattened sheets. It looked too sterile — too clean. It was a far cry from the blood and the screaming and the smell of death that had permeated the room not too long ago. The smell and horrible aftertaste of death’s door was an all too familiar sensation to him unfortunately — especially after Megumi’s own father had brutalized him five years ago. He hated that his Love had to know what that was like before she succumbed to it.

“Have you met her yet?”

“Not yet.”

Regrettably, he hadn’t thought about the infant ever since he watched the light leave his Love’s eyes. She was the center of his world and truthfully, more important to him than a baby he barely knew. Of course he grieved her.

But now that Shoko brought it up, it added another horrible taste in his mouth. Just a month ago he’d felt so carefree as he laid beside his pregnant partner, shamelessly cooing and fawning over the unborn baby in her womb, making a show of how excited he was to be a dad, and already making plans to teach her plenty of things. Now his life flipped upside down at the onslaught of tragedy that befell his girlfriend.

The doctors had whisked his daughter away to the NICU to monitor her closely and provide care after the mother passed away near the end of delivery. The Love of his life didn’t even get to see her baby before she died… Didn’t even get the chance to speak her name so they could print it out in the tiny tags they kept around newborns’ wrists to identify them in the nursery.

Her last coherent words were impassioned pleas thrown out in the midst of her suffering, punctuated with labored breaths, gasps, and blood — so much blood that stained the white sheets pink and orange.

“Love her, Satoru. Promise me. Promise, please? Promise me. Love her. She needs you.”

Did she feel her own life slipping away? Was her strength sapped bit by bit with each gasp and strained scream? They’d taken her body to the morgue an hour ago, but he swore he could still feel her near bone-crushing grip on his fingers — regrettably a pathetic source of consolation during her labor. His words of whispered encouragement didn’t hold a candle to her pain and suffering.

It couldn’t save her from rapid blood loss and cardiac arrest.

Pathetic…

The strongest sorcerer of the modern age — abundant in financial resources and political power, yet useless in the face of death and loss. This was his curse.

“It’s only been half an hour. Did the doctor say anything?”

“They might keep her there for the whole day or for weeks for all I know.”

“You should go see her.”

“I—”

Shoko’s tone was soft but firm as she reached out, squeezed his shoulder again, and made for the door. “I’ll come with you.”

=OoOoO=

Entering the neonatal unit was not as complicated as he first assumed. The entrance to the unit was armed with a cache of hand sanitizers, disinfecting alcohol, antibacterial liquid soap, face masks, and other paraphernalia meant to prevent spread of infection. Next to that was a station for handwashing. The place smelled of a strange yet pleasant mix of scented rubbing alcohol and baby powder.

The nurses had asked both him and Shoko to don hospital gowns over their clothes, plus wear gloves and masks. If the situation had been a little less grim, he would have argued with Shoko over whether these precautionary measures were really necessary for him when he had Infinity and his immune system was tougher than beds of nails. She would have told him how ridiculous he was being, and he would have countered with an argument that revolved around the idea that he was the last person carrying transferable diseases in the entire hospital.

But there was none of that…

He was quiet and subdued, even as the smiling nurse led them through.

She was not one of the nurses present during his baby’s birth, so she obviously didn’t know. Satoru wondered if she would have treated him differently if she knew. He let Shoko take care of the technicalities of the conversation. They were talking about IVs and breathing measurements and vital signs — everything that Satoru knew he should be paying attention to.

But he knew, despite his baby’s sensitive condition, that she was completely fine — that she was alive and that she would pull through.

His daughter’s cursed energy signature was readable outside of the unit. It thrummed and doused her in it completely like a second blanket. It wasn’t tightly reined or controlled, as expected from a newborn. She had more than the normal amount a sorcerer would have too — that tiny body housed enough cursed energy to match the output of a Grade 1 sorcerer.

He followed a step behind Shoko and the nurse, sunglasses now pushed to the top of his head so he could see everything. The tiny and insignificant curses that usually plagued hospitals were nowhere to be found — hiding from him most likely.

Their little group stopped at the eighth infant warmer.

There she was — the fruit of his Love’s efforts.

Tiny, fragile, covered in a pink blanket, eyes half-open, her tiny arms and legs moving, and a nasal cannula in her nostrils.

“Normally, it’s really hard to tell which baby belongs to which parent because they all look so similar.” The nurse giggled at Shoko, gesturing to the rows and rows of dark-haired babies in identical infant warmers or incubators. “But your baby stands out from the rest. She’s hard to miss.”

“She’s not my baby.” Shoko corrected the nurse.

“Oh— My apologies, Dr. Ieiri.” She turned, about to address Satoru.

He was already standing over the tiny bed. The size of the infant warmer when placed right next to his towering height created a comical scene: a six-foot plus giant leaning over a restless baby.

“I can see where she gets her hair, Mr. Gojo. You have a very beautiful daughter.”

Her words barely registered in Satoru’s brain; his mind too preoccupied by the sight of his Love’s sweet angel. She’d begged him to love the little girl — made him promise. She had pleaded with every ounce of breath left in her rapidly deteriorating body.

And the sight of this tiny girl — her small fists curling and uncurling, small body wiggling and twitching underneath the soft blanket, and her head turned to his side with those eyes squeezed shut — broke what was left of his battered heart.

“She’s so small.” Satoru mumbled, seating himself on one of the stools they placed close to the infant warmer. (Truthfully, all newborn babies looked tiny compared to Satoru Gojo).

Cautiously, he placed his elbows on the transparent edges of the warmer, watching the little girl closer, oblivious to the way Shoko and the nurse watched him.

“Is she a healthy size?” He spoke slowly, quietly; Six Eyes never straying away from the new life he’d helped create.

“Yes, Mr. Gojo.” She watched as Satoru fiddled with the name tag wrapped loosely around the newborn’s chubby wrist. A name hadn’t been given, so the tag simply read ‘Baby Gojo’. “If we could have her name, we could reprint a new tag.”

A name… If they could have her name.

Satoru stared at the thin white piece of photo paper between his fingers.

Born on the fifth moon at the beginning of the end of Spring, delivered at 11:43PM, firstborn child of the head of the Gojo clan, offspring of the strongest sorcerer alive.

The name left his lips unbidden, uttered as a reverent prayer and offering to a love he lost and equally gained. It was the name his Love had chosen — a fitting name for their baby girl and her powerful birthright, his Love had said.

“Satsuki… Her mother named her Satsuki, with the kanji for ‘blossom’ or ‘moon’ and ‘princess.’”

“A fitting name for a lovely girl. Your wife must be so proud.”

“She is…”

She would have been…

Satoru nodded along to the nurse’s kind comments, still wholly focused on watching his daughter. The nurse excused herself to accommodate a colleague’s inquiries, leaving him and Shoko alone amid the row of infant warmers and sleeping babies.

“You could touch her.” Shoko nodded once, noting how cautious Gojo was.

Uncaring of any protests, Satoru slipped off the glove that covered his right hand and gently slid two of his fingers into the space between her curled fingers and tiny palm. Her skin was warm and she was so so so small. It was a sight to behold: a daughter holding on to her father’s finger — a prelude of how they would behave around each other three years down the line.

He was a stranger to fear, but in this moment, perhaps he could admit to feeling apprehensive — that his most delicate grip could shatter her. Satsuki deserved utmost care and tenderness — the kind that only a mother could give… The kind that Satoru so obviously lacked. He could put a roof over his daughter’s head, give her clothes to keep her warm, provide food in abundance so she would never starve, financially support her so she would never want for a single thing in her life, and protect her from every threat. All of that, and he would still be incapable of restoring the warmth and comfort Satsuki’s mother could have brought her — had she been given the chance.

That’s what hurt the most, he figured… Satsuki would only know of her mom — would only experience her through the thousands of pictures and videos Satoru had stored in memory cards and camera phones throughout the years. Satsuki would never know how sweet and warm her mother was, how affectionate and kind and patient. And no matter how much Satoru would strive to convey all of that through his stories and his actions, it could never measure up — could never bring proper justice to the firsthand experience Satsuki would have had, if only Fate wasn’t cruel to Satoru Gojo and everyone he loved.

He pulled down the mask that covered half of his face as he gently stroked his daughter’s hair. There was so much of it — a full head of white, a blanket of snow. He could fit her entire head in the palm of his hand. He marveled at all of her, now that he had been staring for quite some time. Thin and pale eyebrows matched her long white eyelashes. Her nose, her mouth, the shape of her face — it was all his. In this at least, no one could doubt her paternal lineage. (Not that anyone would dare to question Satoru Gojo if he claimed a baby was his — look-a-like or not).

“Oh my god, she’s all you.” Shoko muttered over his shoulder, echoing his own musings as she finally got a closer look for herself.

“Would the clan elders still insist on a paternity test, do you think?”

It was a half-baked attempt at humor, but Shoko did smile a little underneath her face mask. There was some truth to that claim.

Satoru’s family weren’t the happiest group of people when they found out he got his girlfriend pregnant. They lived in modern society, but the biggest clans of the jujutsu world held fast to traditional beliefs, even if said beliefs dated all the way back to the 18th century. Satsuki was born out of wedlock, so in their judgmental eyes, she was illegitimate — unworthy of the Gojo name and certainly not fit to inherit any asset or receive support from the clan. But Shoko doubted that claim would stay for long — not if Satoru would have anything to do with it. He got what he wanted one way or the other (and for the most part). She knew her friend.

Shoko wagered that this family conflict would persist for a year or less… Satsuki is and forever will be entitled to the name ‘Gojo’, and Satoru would even put her in line to be the next head of the clan — patriarchal traditions be damned.

“How’s her cursed energy level?” Shoko asked out of curiosity. It had been on her mind ever since she and Satoru wandered into the unit.

“As stable as can be expected from a baby. The amount matches a Grade 1 sorcerer.”

Shoko reached over the edge of the infant warmer to fix the blanket covering Satsuki’s body. “You think she’ll have Limitless?”

“Maybe. It would be better for her if something unique manifests instead. You never really know until kids hit five or six.”

Satoru continued to speak quietly as he scanned his daughter’s face, watching closely as her little eyelids fluttered and peeled themselves back halfway, revealing bright amber irises. At this, he had to smile.

“She has her mommy’s eyes. Of course she does.”

His Love would have adored her. She’d fawned over Satsuki from the moment they went to their first checkup. She had smiled so wide when they heard the steady beat of their little girl’s heart for the first time, and she told him all over again that her horrible nausea in the mornings, her swollen feet, her migraines, and all her troubles were worth it — even if he so obviously thought otherwise.

“Loving her is loving a piece of you. And I love you wholly, Satoru.”

A piece of him…

Satsuki was a piece of her too, wasn’t she?

Satsuki was the embodiment of her love — the remnant Satoru resolved to cherish for the rest of his days from this moment forth.

Shoko went looking for the nurse and left him alone for a moment, and Satoru contented himself with the view of his daughter staring listlessly into a mess of colors and shapes that her still-developing brain barely identified. Giving her the sincere smile she deserved, he held one of her tiny hands again and kissed her fingers — a promise of the life and future he would give her for as long as he was able.

It would be a long long while until he would see his Love again — longer still because their daughter needed him now.

Wherever she was, perhaps watching over him and Satsuki, he sincerely hoped his Love heard the utterance of the very same words she’d told him that time he asked. His Love was right…

Loving the girl was loving a piece of her mother. And ever since that evening on Christmas Eve so many years ago, he’d loved every bit of his lover everyday, more than he did the day before until the moment she took her last breath.

“I’ll take care of our little girl. I promise.”

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanfic #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #dad!gojo #girl dad gojo #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo satoru x oc #gojo x oc #satoru gojo x oc #satoru gojo x reader #jjk x reader #gojou satoru x you #gojou satoru x reader #wbad fanfiction

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rafeandonlyrafe · 2 months

Text

separate lines

words: 600 (+ three images)

warnings: entire fic is through phone calls/text messages, parental death (ward), established relationship, kinda protective rafe but its cute he just misses his girl, includes pictures of "readers" face/body, kind of illusions to sex (like barely!), overall pretty fluffy

“rafey!” you squeal as you answer your phone seconds after it rings. “how's it going?”

“well, everything is still standing.” rafe huffs out. you can practically hear the stress in his voice.

“that's good, baby. i miss you a lot.” sure, he just left this morning to drive back to the outer banks, but that doesn't change the fact that you miss him anytime he's away from you.

“god, i miss you too. if rose didn't need me here id still be-

“i know.” you cut rafe off. “you're back for three days with your family. it'll be fine and then we will be back together.”

you know being back in the outer banks is stressful for rafe after everything that happened. the mess with barry, the pogues, and then all culminating in his dad dying. when you decided to go a couple hours away to college, you still thought you'd have to persuade your boyfriend to come with you, to leave the only life he's ever known, but he jumped at the chance.

you live in a luxury townhouse right near downtown. you're even able to walk to most of your classes, of course with rafe by your side.

“you're right.” rafe hums. “we are figuring out the will stuff tomorrow morning.”

“i wish i could be there for you. text or call if you need anything.” you have classes tomorrow, but you'd drop anything if rafe really needed you.

“yeah just… text me updates, please? even if you just do the laundry or something. it helps to know.”

“of course i will.” you smile, hearing some commotion in the background. “and rafey? give wheezie a hug for me.”

“is that y/n?” you hear her voice in the background, then the fumbling of the phone being handed off.

“y/n!” wheezie squeals.

“wheezie, my girl!”

“how are you getting to class?” rafe asks, looking into the room where proceedings are about to start, going over his fathers will and who gets what. he knows most of it will go to rose, most likely the house and the real estate company. he doesn't really care. he has a new life now, one with you.

“amber is gonna drive me and pick me up. and no, her boyfriend will not be there.” you giggle, knowing even though amber and her boyfriend steven have been together since third grade, rafe would still worry with him around.

“and you're going to poli sci and then your geology lab, right?” rafe has your schedule memorized, but he likes to hear your confirmation anyways.

“yup!” you nod, even though rafe can't see you. “im excited for todays lab, actually. it's not rock identification, which you know i suck at.”

rafe let's out a soft laugh, having sat and listened to your complaining about rocks for hours already this semester.

“rafe, it's starting soon.” rose says, her words being picked up by you, otherwise rafe probably would have just ignored her in favor of keeping talking.

“alright, baby. hope it all goes well and doesn't take too long. i love you.” you coo into the phone.

“love you more.”

“home tomorrow.” rafe whispers softly, not wanting to wake up anyone else in the house. he's exhausted, so they must be too. it was a long day with lots of legal jargon, but everything got divided up about how he expected it to.

most to rose, then the additional savings divided up evenly between him, sarah, and wheezie.

“im glad.” you whisper back, matching his tone even though you're home alone. “i ordered a cute pair of pajamas to wear to help me sleep. you know how much i struggle without you.”

“your insomnia cure.” rafe smiles, remembering what you called him after you first started sharing a bed, able to easily relax into him and fall into a true deep sleep.

“mhm.” you hum out, letting out a yawn. “do you mind staying on the call until i fall asleep?”

“baby, ill stay on all night.”

sfw tags: @winterrrnight @bejeweledreverie

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nvrsaidiwasinurcloset · 4 months

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hii, idk if this is too complex but could you maybe do ethan landry x fem reader smut where he died (we all know the plot in scream 6) but like here he was just supposedly dead and actually alive but spent a few months in a psych ward and during this the reader is his ex girlfriend as they broke up one year before the events from 2023 since she didn’t want to accept him killing people for revenge but as months passed, she found out that he “died” so she took care of everything in his place, killing the core four and all and at that point she became very depressed as she still couldn’t get over him but then he suddenly appears in her life again (idk how tho, this can take place in the forest or at her house or idk) it can start a bit angst and then leading to smut with them being a bit eager as they haven’t done it in a long time. you can mention ethan having some scars somewhere on his face btw! (srry again if this is too complex 😭)

My sweet, SWEET anon. I finally have this done, thank you for being so patient with me💕 I appreciate you messaging me so I could run some ideas I had by you lol

Meet Me at Our Spot - Ethan Landry x Fem!Reader

This contains SMUT - Minors DNI

Summary: You think Ethan died at the theater, so you got revenge. He isn't dead though, and you run into him at your spot.

A/N: Hi! The anon that requested this messaged me earlier to help me with some plot ideas I had, cause you know I'm a bitch that LOVES a plot. If you guys have requested something and I haven't written it yet, it could be that I'm stumped and trying to figure it out. Just message me if you're like...damn why's she taking so long lol.

“Get the fuck out!” You screamed at Ethan, as tears streamed down both of your faces.

“Why are you doing this?” he cried, his eyes pleading with yours.

“I can’t be with someone as cold-hearted as you,” you snapped, nudging him out the front door and slamming it in his face.

That was the last time you saw Ethan. After you accidentally overheard the plan his family concocted to get revenge for Richie’s death, you called him out on it. He argued that it’s what he needed to do, and that you should love him regardless. You couldn’t, not if he was going to spend the rest of his life in prison, or worse, end up dead. You were hoping the break-up would make him realize that he shouldn’t do it, and just stay with you. He didn’t though, starting college not even a month later. You stayed home, opting for online courses like you both originally planned on doing.

When you saw the news that people had died in the same area of his university, you knew he had something to do with it. You couldn’t reach out to the cops, because his dad was a well-respected detective. No one would believe you. Plus, your own safety would be at risk. Ethan made that perfectly clear during your heated argument.

Your heart sank when you heard about what happened at the abandoned theater. When you saw that Ethan was one of the suspects, and that he was found deceased, you couldn’t control your emotions as you wailed in the otherwise silent house. After you read about what happened to him, you started to understand why he felt like he needed to avenge Richie’s death, because that’s exactly how you were feeling. You wanted to get back at the people who took him from you.

You started with Kirby. She was the one that ultimately took him from you. You started to feel satisfied, but you knew you couldn’t stop until they all died. You went to Chad and Mindy, then Tara and Sam. Even with you finishing what Ethan and his family started, you still felt so empty without him.

You never read anything else about Ethan after you did what you needed to do, the thought of him being gone made you too sad to even think about it. You did keep tabs on what was happening in the investigations into your crimes, but they never had any leads. If you had kept up with the news on Ethan, you would’ve seen that the first news reports were wrong, and that he did survive.

The attempts to keep your day-to-day life normal became impossible. Your parents were always traveling, so you mostly had the place to yourself. All you wanted to do was lay in bed and cry, your living space reflecting that. You finally decided to get up and clean, coming across so many little gifts and things Ethan had gotten you over the two years you were together. When you came across the first note he wrote to you when you were juniors in high school, you started to sob. His handwriting on the page in front of you made you feel like you had a piece of him. Then, you saw the ‘Meet me at our spot’ at the bottom of the page. The spot he first told you he loved you.

He was so nervous that day, his cheeks pink as he finally got those three words out, terrified that you wouldn’t say it back. You did, though. You knew with everything in you that you were meant to be with him. You thought back to the times that you’d pass him in the hallway on your way to class, the two of you not having much time to talk. He’d say “forever” as his eyes connected with yours, and you’d always say it back. It was so simple, but he wanted you to know how much he loved you, and that you’d always have his heart.

You slipped your shoes on before heading out the door. You knew you needed to go to the spot in the woods that the two of you would always go whenever you needed to get away from life. You sat on the log you’d always sit on, crying as you touched the empty space beside you.

“I miss you so fucking much,” you sobbed, letting out so many emotions. The anger, the sadness, and the heartache overwhelming you.

“I never thought I’d see you here,” you heard, as the leaves crunched behind you.

Your head snapped in the direction of the voice, your chest getting tight as you saw Ethan standing there.

“Fuck, I really am going crazy,” you cried, taking a deep breath.

You didn’t want to look away. Even if this was a figment of your imagination, seeing him was something you so badly needed.

“You aren’t crazy,” he said, stepping closer to you.

You noticed some scars on his face, but he was still beautiful. Your heart swelled as you shut your eyes tight and reopened them, to see him still standing there.

“I’m real. I told you; you aren’t going crazy.”

You stood up and started to walk a little closer to him. His brown eyes met yours before looking at the ground, his facial expression unreadable.

“Ethan…How?” was all you got out, your brain not fully processing what was happening.

“It doesn’t surprise me that you didn’t keep track of what happened to me,” he said, turning around to walk in the opposite direction of you.

“What the fuck do you mean? You died! It was all over the news!” you yelled, as he kept walking. “Ethan, please stop.”

He stopped, his back still turned to you.

“How could you just break up with me like that? How could you just throw me away?” he said, finally turning to look at you. Tears stained his cheeks as he waited for you to respond. He’s waited over a year for an answer. “Forever must not mean much to you.”

“It doesn’t?! Then why did I finish what you started? Why did I kill for you?” you snapped, as his eyes grew wide.

“That was you?” he asked, “You’re so stupid!”

He quickly walked back towards you but kept a few feet of space in between. It was like he was too scared to get close.

“I understand why you wanted to do what you did for Richie. I couldn’t stop thinking about the people that hurt you being out there, living their lives when yours was over,” you sobbed, as he wiped the tears from his cheeks. “I said forever, and I meant it.”

He closed the space between the two of you, his lips connecting with yours. The kiss was aggressive, like you both needed it so badly for so long that you never wanted your mouths to stop moving. His hands were roaming everywhere he could reach. Your hips, your ass, your breasts. Every new area he touched had you whimpering into the kiss.

He pulled away, looking into your eyes. “I need you, baby.”

You knew what he meant; his tone full of lust. You looked around at the dead leaves and twigs on the ground, realizing that it wasn’t the most comfortable place for you to go at it for a long time, which is what you fully intended on doing.

“My parents are out of town. Let’s go,” you said, grabbing his hand as you ran with him through the woods back to your place.

Once you made it inside the front door and closed it, he shoved you up against it. You were both breathing heavy from the running, and from the anticipation.

“Have you fucked anyone since me?” he asked, his eyes dark as they looked into yours.

“No, I’ve only wanted you,” you said, as he started to smirk.

“Good, because that pussy belongs to me,” he growled, before roughly kissing you. Your arms went around his neck as his hands went to your waist, lifting you off the ground. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his hips. You could feel his cock though his jeans as it pressed against your ass, the feeling making you moan against his lips.

He carried you over to the couch, not wanting to waste a single second of time. You only pulled apart from the kiss when you both took your shirts off. You noticed the scars on his shoulder and chest, gently running your fingers over them as he started to unbutton your jeans.

You couldn’t help but wonder what the full story was. What happened after you thought he was dead? Those thoughts were quickly pushed to the side as he slid your jeans and panties down in the same motion.

“You have no idea how bad I’ve wanted to taste you again,” he said, leaning in and licking your clit.

“Oh shit,” you whined, your fingers going to his hair as his mouth moved faster against you. “Fuck I missed you eating me out.”

He moved his mouth lower, his tongue dipping inside your dripping core. He kept moving his tongue, the sounds flooding out of your mouth going straight to his throbbing cock.

He moved back up to focus on your clit as he slid a finger in you, before adding another. Your pussy was sucking his fingers in as the wet sounds filled the room.

“Oh fuck, right there!” you cried out as the pads of his fingers moved against that special spot inside of you. “Fuck, just like that. Yesss.”

You started to move your hips against his fingers and mouth as his free hand had a strong grip on your thigh. It didn’t take long for his fingers to move faster, and that feeling you hadn’t felt in so long started to creep up. Yeah, you’d been able to get off a couple times by yourself, but nothing ever compared to how Ethan does it.

“You’re going to make me cum,” you whimpered, the intensity of the feeling getting stronger and stronger as your hips started to jerk. Ethan just kept going, his fingers and mouth not slowing as tears started to slip down your face. The orgasm was so strong as you babbled out, the things you were saying not making any sense.

When you started to relax onto the couch and your hips stilled, he slid out his fingers. You whined at the emptiness, as he started to laugh. “God, baby, you’re so needy.” He quickly got out of his jeans and slid his boxers down, not wanting another second of time to pass without him being inside of you.

He crawled on top of you and lined up at your entrance. You squealed as he slid inside of you, the fullness making your breath hitch in your throat.

“Fuck, so tight,” he groaned, “I missed this so fucking much.”

“I missed it too,” you moaned, as he started to thrust harder. “Oh fuck!”

You were whining as his hips pounded into you, the relentless pace turning your brain to mush. He started to slow down a little, not wanting to cum too quickly.

“Let me ride you, baby,” you whimpered, “Please, I need it.”

He groaned at your words, sliding out long enough to sit on the couch. You straddled him as he gripped the base of his erection for you to sink down onto him.

“Oh my god,” you whined out, as your hands held onto the back of the couch and his hands went to your breasts.

He massaged them before taking one of your nipples into his mouth, moaning around it as your hips started to move quicker. He noticed you weren’t going all the way down, his size a little too much for you to handle.

“Aww, baby. Is it too much for you?” he asked sweetly, before grabbing your hips and fucking the rest of his cock up in you.

“Fuck fuckfuck,” you cried out, feeling the tears well up again from the pleasure. “I can’t take it.”

“Yeah you can baby, just relax. You’re doing so good for me,” he cooed, as you started to meet his thrusts with your hips. The sound of your ass slapping against his thighs echoing off the walls. “So fucking good.”

One of his hands left your hip and started to rub quick circles on your swollen clit, your walls starting to flutter the second he did it.

“You getting close, baby?” he asked, his lustful eyes looking into the ones that you were struggling to keep open.

“Mhm,” you whimpered, your eyes screwing shut as you moved as fast as you could, chasing your orgasm. “Gonna-fuck..cum,” you got out, as he added a little more pressure to your clit. “Holy fuck!”

His hands went back to your hips as you started to go limp in his arms, too fucked out to move. He bounced you on him, chasing his own orgasm. All you could do was whimper, the tears trickling out of your eyes at the feeling. He pulled out of you, his cum shooting all over your tummy and his.

“Hey, hey baby,” he said softly, “Are you okay?”

He wiped the tears from your cheeks as before you relaxed onto him.

“That felt so good,” you said, your head resting against his chest.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No baby, it was perfect.”

You stayed there pressed against him as his fingers ran up and down your bare back. It felt so nice to have him back, and you never wanted to let him go again.

“What happened? Like after you were found?” you asked, your fingers running over the scars again.

He sighed, nervous to tell you all the gory details. “I had a faint pulse when they found me. They didn’t expect me to make it. I lost a lot of blood, and had some head trauma,” he said, as you sat up a little to look at him. “Then after I started to get better, they started talking about court and I got interrogated. But someone started their own little killing spree. I started to lie, saying that the real killer that was helping dad and Quinn must still be out there if people were still dying and I was sitting in the hospital.”

“And they believed you?” you asked, waiting for him to continue.

“Yeah, not at first, but the evidence didn’t add up to me aside from the robe I was wearing. I told them that dad roped me into it…and that he threated to kill me if I didn’t participate.”

“I still can’t believe they let you out,” you said, still amazed that he was right in front of you.

“I was in there for a while, and I’ve been on so many different medications to deal with the health issues I have now…I’ll tell you about those later. But if it wasn’t for you doing what you did, I would still be in there,” he said, his hands rubbing along your sides. “When I came back, I started staying with my aunt who thinks I was this manipulated, innocent person. She takes me to all my appointments to make sure I don’t have to go back to the psych ward.”

“Why didn’t you come see me?” you asked, feeling a little hurt that he’d been home for a while and didn’t bother to try to see you.

“I thought you didn’t want to see me, so I’ve been going to our spot every single day, just to think. I’d always hoped I’d run into you there,” he said, his voice cracking as he started to tear up. “I just love you so much.”

“I love you too, baby. Forever.” You smiled, “Today was the first time I’ve been there since you left. I found a note from you earlier and I just had to go there,” you said, wiping the tears off his cheeks.

“I’m so happy you did.”

He held you there for a while, loving the way your body felt against him.

“Babe, you wanna go shower? Your cum is still all over us,” you giggled, as his hands gripped your hips.

“Who said I was done with you yet?”

#ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #scream smut #ethan landry smut

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alyakthedorklord · 9 months

Text

I’m having dramatic thoughts about Damian being born to Fem!Bruce ok I’m having THOUGHTS

(TW for alluding to Damian’s conception being nonconsensual)

Okay so set the stage of our Drama- Fem!Bruce (or just AFAB idc) is out on patrol or something and League Parent (Either Talia as in canon, or Ra’s if we’re feeling the creepy old man tonight) drops Damian off with “Hey, watch our son that you birthed and then I stole and let you think was dead for ten years, there’s some infighting in the league.”

(If we’re using Ra’s as dad then Talia is absolutely trying to kill Damian for the position of heir)

Bryce is, understandably, shocked. Her other children? Even more so. Because what do you mean you had a biological child? How did we not know about this?!

Damian isn’t old enough to be pre-robin unless he was cryogenically frozen. Did Bryce really hide a whole fucking pregnancy from them?

Dick is screaming, Jason shows up because he has to see this shit for himself, Bryce is standing in silence, staring at the results of every single test she can think of to confirm that yes, this is her son, this is her Damian, all the info matches up…

Tim tries to speak up, but Jason just turns on him, asking if he’s ready to be replaced too. Bryce didn’t even have to go looking this time!

Tim looks him dead in the eye and points out the birthdate(and death date) on file for Damian Wayne.

It’s exactly eight days before Jason was taken in.

How did Dick and Jason not know about this?

Because they weren’t there.

In the short period of time when Dick was striking out on his own, and before Bryce picked up Jason, League Baby Daddy of your choosing shows up and takes advantage. A simple greeting, a spiked drink, a blurry night, and a pregnancy test later…

Bruce is, as always, in any universe, is terrible at communication. But honestly she can be excused in this case. How exactly do you tell your wayward son ward that, after chasing him off because he was “being reckless” and “putting himself in danger,” you’ve gone and gotten taken advantage of, trusted someone that you had absolutely ZERO business trusting, and now you’re pregnant with an Al Ghul baby? And you’ve decided to keep it? That this isn’t you replacing him or demanding he return, because you understand his need for space, but also you desperately want him back with you because you’re scared but you can never admit it?

How do you do that in a text? Because Dick is not answering the phone.

You don’t. Thats a conversation you have face to face. So the messages Bryce leaves are all “there are some changes and i’d like to talk to you” “there may be a new member of the family soon” “please answer me chum”

Dick doesn’t answer.

Meanwhile, Gotham crime is being weird because “hey robins gone! Dynamic duo is out!” And Bryce is being careful because of her belly and sometimes she has to take breaks and hormones are bullying her and nothing is going her way right now.

And them she goes into labor too soon.

And something goes wrong (League Baby Daddy happens) and she’s told her baby is dead, and now she’s lost two children.

She recovers, and goes back out onto the streets, taking her rage and pain out on the criminals that got a little too bold with her in a hospital bed…

And then there’s a street rat jacking the tires off the Batmobile.

The fucking audacity. The guts. The challenge in his bright blue eyes, the sneer on his lips, the shaggy black hair. Skin just a bit darker than hers, not quite an Al Ghul’s deep olive but somewhere in the middle.

Is this what her Damian would have looked like? Is this what her son would have grown up to be?

Maybe its the hormones, maybe she’s projecting. She knows its a bad idea, but Bryce takes the kid home. Alfred gives her a knowing and slightly disapproving look, but accepts the new child with open arms, because there’s worse things. Jason fits in easily, and soon enough, Batman has a Robin again, and Bryce is smiling again, and begins to heal from the pain of losing Damian.

But Dick? Dick is PISSED.

Upon seeing news of a new Robin/Wayne, he finally looks though his messages, and comes to the wrong conclusion that Bryce was looking for a kid to replace him this whole time. She might have tried to get his input, but had eventually made a decision like this without him. And so he’s back, and he’s angry, and Bryce gets defensive because Jason is a good kid and she can’t use her dead baby to win an argument, not when the wound is so fresh.

So life continues. Jason dies, comes back, is angry because he listened in on a few arguments and now ALSO thinks Bryce actively hunted him down to be Robin, and now she’s done the same with Tim.

Bryce keeps quiet, because how is she supposed to explain after all these years? Jason is right to be angry. She let her emotions get the better of her and dragged a sweet boy into her life. The loss of all three if her children was her own fault, because she put him into the line of fire. There’s no excuse for that.

So years pass. Tempers settle somewhat, Bryce holds her grief close to her chest because she can’t do that to her children, but… then Damian is back. And it all explodes.

The story comes out in bits and pieces. Tim figures out a timeline based on the rest of the info in the file, and Bryce and Alfred slowly fill it in.

And like- they’re all still angry, and it is justified, because what the fuck, Bryce. But also…

Dick is horrified. He had been so angry, so so angry, reading those messages that he now knows, with this new information, were a cry for help. Bryce had been desperate and scared and wanted nothing more than to just talk to him after their fight, and when he had come back after something like this had happened he had immediately started another fight.

Jason isn’t sure how to feel. He hadn’t been taken in to be a replacement soldier, he had been taken in to be a replacement son. What is he supposed to do with that? Knowing that Bryce had seen him at his worst, and taken him in and shoved down her grief to help him?

Tim is wondering if every time Bryce backed away with an unreadable expression, it hadn’t been keeping herself emotionally distant, it was grief for the sons she had lost.

Steph is realizing that Bruce wasn’t lying, when Steph had to give her own baby up and Bryce had hugged her and said “I understand.”

Damian is sitting in a corner wondering what the ever-loving FUCK is going on. Why is everyone crying this is pathetic. Father take him home he prefers the threat of imminent death.

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cameronspecial · 3 months

Text

The Help

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Racist Remark Against Hispanics, Swearing, and Suggestive Ending

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.6K

Summary: Tannyhill gets a visitor who can't help but see Y/N below her class.

A/N: Inspired by this post.

Masterlist

The front door to Tannyhill opens without a knock or an occupant from inside twisting the knob. Rafe is out on a run while Y/N is cleaning up the breakfast mess. He had made the meal so it was only fair that she took care of it. At first, she wasn’t sure about moving into the grand home when Rafe inherited it from Ward’s will, but he was quick to convince the girl it was better than living in her shack of a house on the Cut. She is wiping down the counter with her hair in a messy bun when the clatter of heels echoes through the house. Rose and Wheezie moved to the Guadalupe house after Ward’s death because Tannyhill held too many memories and Sarah moved in with John B. so the steps couldn’t belong to them. Y/N’s gaze flicks upward to find a redhead walking into the kitchen. “Ahh, finally signs of life in this house. You know you should really start with cleaning the front entrance before you clean the kitchen. The chandelier is dusty. Did Rafe fire Mrs. Lockmeyer?” the unidentified woman criticizes. Y/N realizes the other woman thinks she is the help and plays along, “Mrs. Lockmeyer is sick for the day.” It isn’t a lie, the cleaner did say she had to come in at a later day in the week because of an illness.

“I’m glad Rafe didn’t fire her. She always did such a good job with rearranging my shoes and didn’t leave streaks on the windows like that dumb Hispanic. I don’t think she even understood English. Where is Rafe anyways?”

“R- Mr. Cameron is out on a run. May I ask who you are?”

“Right, you are new. I’m Natasha. Rafe’s girlfriend.”

“Really? Mr. Cameron didn’t tell me about you.”

Natasha gives Y/N a belittling look, “Don’t say it like that. It’s not like you have a chance with him. But to be completely honest, I broke up with him. It was a mistake though and I’m here to rectify that. Bring my bags in. I’m going to get settled in his room.” Y/N has no time to protest before Natasha makes her way upstairs. Right on time, Rafe jogs into the kitchen with his earbuds dangling from his neck and his skin glistening with sweat. He goes to get a cool bottle of water from the fridge and kisses Y/N on the cheek. She thinks about telling him about his guest, yet she has an even more delicious way of getting back at Natasha for just walking into her home and assuming she didn’t belong there with a glance. “I’m going to go take a shower. I’ll be waiting for you to join me,” he mutters against her skin. She gives him a small nod and lets him lead the way upstairs. She lags behind him, waiting for him to enter first. Her feet pause in front of her bedroom door.

“What the fuck. Natasha, what are you doing in my bedroom?” she hears Rafe scream inside. She holds back a snicker. Natasha responds, “Didn’t the help tell you I was upstairs?” “The help?” Rafe repeats with confusion. Y/N takes this as her opportunity to make herself known and enters the bedroom. Her arms loosely wrap around Rafe’s waist and she presses a kiss to his cheek. “I’m ready for that shower now, Handsome,” she mumbles loud enough for everyone to hear. She leaves no time to further be a part of the conversation, walking toward the bathroom and taking her shirt off to throw to Rafe.

Natasha looks back and forward between the couple, her mouth falling open as she pieces the puzzle together. “You are dating the help?” she questions. Of course, the only thing she can see Y/N as is someone to serve a Kook. Rafe’s jaw clenches, “No. I’m dating my girlfriend. Now, if you would see yourself out, I have to go make love to my girlfriend in the shower.”

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming

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sorcerous-caress · 8 months

Text

How would they drink your blood

[ bg3, several characters, au where they are a vampire ]

Karlach

Apologetically. Wirsts.

She'd feel so guilty, mumbling an apology after another with each mouthful of blood. Never takes more than she needs, sometimes even less than she needs.

She fusses over you the morning after, giving you sweets and food. Keeping an eye on you and making sure she'll be your shoulder to lean on.

Shadowheart

Carefully. Neck.

It's very intimate with her since she realises the amount of trust you've given her to even allow this. It's something she will treasure and protect.

Gets more attached to you because of it, more protective. Healing spells, warding buffs after each feeding.

Wyll

Guiltily. Wrists.

With immense guilt, he is disgusted with himself each time he has to do it. It eats up at him each time her takes your hand in his own, sinking his fangs into the tender flesh of your wirst.

It pains him more than it pains you. He brushed too close to death too many times for you liking. You have to be the one to pry him from its cluthes and offer your blood each time.

Laezel

Efficiently. Neck.

It ends quickly. She doesn't waste any time for your comfort or hers. Forcing gulp after gulp even to rid you of her fangs as fast as possible. She hates being a parasite.

Has the courtesy to bandage your wound afterwards, orders you to eat something as she watches and only after allows you to go to sleep.

Minthara

Dominantly. Neck, thighs.

Like it was her birthright, like she owned the blood flowing through your veins alongside your body. But she takes great care of her belongings, so it never hurts more than it has to.

But make no mistake, it's still hers to take. No one else gets the right to your blood after she has tasted you. Obey, and you'll be taken care of, fed, loved, and protected.

Mizora

Selfishly. Neck, wirsts, thighs.

She toys with you, switching from place to place each minute as she wastes your blood. Fangs dripping red as she smiles at you.

Tells you to be a good pup and let her savour her meal, afterall you should feel honoured she chose you when a powerful devil like herself has so many other options.

Cazador

Sadisticly. Neck.

Makes it hurt on purpose. You can not move, you can not disobey, you can not think for yourself, he will do all of the thinking.

Scream for him, tell him how much it hurts. Better yet, how about a reenactment of the first time he took your blood? You know when he drank you to the edge of death.

#♡minthara #minthara x reader #♡karlach #karlach x reader #♡shart #shadowheart x reader #♡laezel #laezel x reader #♡Wyll #wyll x reader #♡Mizora #Mizora x reader #♡Cazador #cazador x reader #bg3 #bg3 x reader #vampire au #suggestive #♡Suggestive

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