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outerbankies · 3 years

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new light part 8: walk away — rafe cameron

new light series masterlist

summary: rafe’s having a harder time in california than he thought he would, but he’s still determined to prove to you that he’s good enough. until he’s not so sure that he is.

pairing: rafe x reader

warnings: drinking and swearing (as usual)

a/n: thanks for holding on for this one! be warned: this monster of a part is liiiiiike 9,000 words. i almost broke it up but i just couldn’t, you’ll see why. come talk to me about what you thiiiiiiink!!!

my writing

we talk and then you walk away, every day

“Are you okay?”

Rafe bristles at your question, sitting up straighter in the passenger seat of your Jeep. He’d been quiet the entire ride home, slumped into himself with his elbow resting on the side of the door, looking out at the views passing by. “Yeah, m’fine. Just tired.”

“Yeah?” you press, because you can’t help it. He’s lying, but you can’t tell if he’s in the mood to be coaxed out of it or not. He’d been icing you out since you left Agnes and Beau’s, and even a little before that if you really think about it. The only genuine emotion you’d seen from him after his talk with Beau was when he’d been messing around with the boys. Agnes was mortified when Barron splashed some pool water onto his pants, but Rafe just beamed, assuring her it was alright before telling Barron he wanted to see another dive.

“Yeah,” he nods. “Just… a lot of people, y’know? Busy few days.”

You reach over to tug on the hair at the back of his neck. It touched his shirt collar. You knew he hated that feeling.

“Okay. Thank you,” you say.

“For what?”

“For hanging in there. I know it’s a lot. My friends and then—”

“I said I was fine, Y/n/n. Your friends are fine. Agnes and Beau were fine,” he cuts in, your hand falling from his hair at his harsher tone. “You don’t need to keep thanking me for just meeting people.”

“Okay.”

It’s quiet for a bit after that, Rafe’s snippiness not at all surprising after the way he’d been acting. But you’re determined to wait him out.

Rafe wasn’t a sulker like you. He didn’t do the silent treatment, wasn’t one for passive aggression. He could try all he wanted, but his emotions came to the surface exactly when they were due.

“I’m sorry,” he eventually sighs, hand sliding over your knee, giving it a squeeze over the material of your dress. “I’m being a dick. I just—I didn’t think you were set on staying out here, Y/n/n. Like, I thought you were still considering home—the Outer Banks. But this entire weekend… I don’t know.”

You bite your lip, keeping your eyes trained on the road even though you’re at a stop light. “Well, you know I haven’t decided.”

“Yeah, but,“ Rafe cuts himself off, letting out a sound of frustration. “Does anyone else know that? Because I feel like I’m not in on something.”

“Look at me,” you say, feeling Rafe’s gaze flick over to you instantly. You wait until the next stop light, meeting his gaze. “You’ll be the first to know. Okay?”

“When will you know?”

“You sound like my dad. Again.”

“No, Y/n/n,” he says. “I’m your boyfriend, and I want to be involved, alright? Wherever you go. I don’t care. I mean I do—I obviously want you with me. And you know where I’ll be. But that doesn’t—it isn’t the point. The point is, I just don’t want to feel out of the loop anymore.”

“Why? Because we’d break up if I didn’t come home?”

“Of course not, but we’d have to talk about it.”

“We will.”

“Okay,” he concedes. It wasn’t what he wanted to hear, and he’s done talking about it. And you’re starting to wonder if the only thing he wants to hear is that you’ll be back home next year.

Thinking about your future had always terrified you. From the outside, you didn’t seem to differ from most Figure 8 daughters. Go to a four year university, find a boyfriend to settle down with back home—one with a job which meant you didn’t ever have to worry about one. Check. Or, come from a family where you’ll never need to find your own job. Check. Or, develop your own career prospects, go wherever you want. Check. And the trust fund will follow you wherever. You could do whatever you wanted.

But what did you want?

You were thrown for a loop even before Rafe walked back into your life. But having a new reason to come home—a reason like him—had made it even harder for you. Not a day went by where you didn’t zone out in class or wake in the middle of the night over it. You didn’t know if you wanted to be a nanny anymore, if you wanted to look like you were following your boyfriend home. You didn’t know anything.

—

Rafe thought he just wanted you to leave him alone after dinner, but dealing with the subdued state you’d been in ever since he brought up your future was absolutely not worth the breathing room. Your features were still downturned, etched with anxiety as you slid into bed next to him, awkwardly crawling over him to sleep closest to the wall. You’d put up a fake fight the first night, telling him it was stupid he felt like he needed to sleep on the outside of your bed, when you slept in it alone every night. But he insisted, the butterflies that had made a home in his stomach over the past few months (or years, if he’s really counting) fluttering again as you just cuddled into him, letting him wrap his limbs around you. Now you just lay together with a decent sized space in the middle, where Wilbur might be if you were back home.

He’d give anything to be there right now, where everything was easier.

“Your haircut’s tomorrow. Do you still wanna go?”

He looks over at you, you’re staring straight up at the ceiling, your face illuminated by the lamp on your bedside table.

“Yeah, I think so. Don’t you have class?”

You nod, not saying anything.

“Hey, that actually reminds me,” Rafe starts, trying not to slide into panic mode. He could play it cool until you needed him to, pretend like nothing was wrong. “I had that essay I wanted you to look at. Tomorrow?”

You nod again. “Yeah, I’ll skim it for you.”

“No, Y/l/n,” Rafe says, venturing out into a more playful atmosphere. Not because he feels like he can, or should—but because that seems to be the only thing his mind settles on this situation calling for. He’s stressed out, he hates that he made you upset. He just needs to see you smile again. “I want a full edit. Rip it apart.”

But it doesn’t work, and you just nod again, biting your bottom lip. You roll over onto your side, toward the wall. Not facing him. “Yeah, I can do that, Rafe. Can you get the light?”

“Yeah,” he breathes. “Good night.”

“Night.”

At least you don’t push him off when he tries to hold you.

—

“Baby?”

Rafe stirs, eyes blinking rapidly to wake himself up when he peels one eye open and sees you standing over the bed. He immediately sits up to rest on his elbows, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

“Whassit, sweet girl?” he practically slurs.

“You can stay in bed. Leaving my keys in case you don’t wanna Uber to the hair place. Just give them your name. I texted you the address,” you say, hand running through his hair, for the last time before it was all gone again. “Davis can help you with the coffee machine if you need it.”

“Okay, thanks,” he nods sleepily, leaning into your touch. He drops from his elbows, reaching behind his head to bunch one of your pillows up tighter under his head.

You nod back, lips in a tight smile. “Yeah. I’ll see you after my class?”

“Yeah. Have a good day.”

You stand up straight, retreating.

“Hey.” He tugs on your hand, pulling you back until you’re close enough to where you can rest it on his face again. His cheeks are warm with sleep, lines pressed into his face from the crinkles in the sheets. He’d hardly moved since you got out of bed to get ready, except to grab a pillow when you extracted yourself from his hold. It looks like he’d shoved his face right into it for the past hour. “I love you.”

He says it with weight, clear intent. A slew of statements wrapped up into those three words. You nod, thumb gently pressing into the skin under his eye, swiping toward his cheekbone in what you hope is a reassuring gesture. “I love you too, Rafe.”

A smile stretches on his lips, and it’d reach his eyes if he wasn’t half asleep. Some hair falls into his face, and you can’t resist. His eyes flutter back open just as you take out your phone for a picture, but he just rolls his eyes, letting you snap a few. “It’ll last longer.”

“Like you’d ever get tired of me staring at you.”

“As long as I get to stare at you after.”

—

Rafe thought the haircut would make him feel better, and it did—marginally. First of all, you sent him to the fanciest salon he could have ever imagined. Even for you. His eyes had widened when he had to turn down a fresh glass of Dom—at ten in the morning, on a Monday.

But he’s still feeling restless and shaky afterwards, wired up from last night, the entire weekend, the double espresso Davis had made him when he came downstairs. You don’t finish your classes for the day for another two hours, he notices when he glances at the clock.

Things were still weird when you left this morning, he could sense he’d pushed you a bit too far last night. But sleeping on it had done you well—you’d texted him a little in class, telling him you saw a dog on campus that looked just like Wilbur, demanding a picture of his new haircut. He had chuckled a little at that, adamantly refusing the latter—he wanted to see your face when you saw it in person, of course.

But that had to be a good sign, right?

He taps his hands against the wheel of your car, one hand coming up to rub the nape of his neck. It throws him off when there’s less hair there now. He knew you loved the long hair—he had to do something to make it up to you.

He’s pulling out of the parking lot soon enough, readjusting your mirrors for the umpteenth time—seriously, he had no idea how you drove like this—and heading to the hardware store he’d passed on the way in.

—

“Good work on that one, Y/n/n,” Delilah praises, the two of you stopping to talk before you make your way to Rafe, who’s standing outside of your Jeep in the university parking lot, new haircut on display. He’d parked in a staff spot, what a bad boy. You just wave at him, signaling for one second before turning back to Delilah. “Seriously, where’ve you been hiding this hometown cutie for the past three years?”

“In my hometown,” you sigh.

“How’s he been doing out here?”

“He’s—I don’t know. I’m sure you know, with Wren?” you say. “It can be a lot. And I think the dad I nanny for scared the shit out of him.”

“Ah,” Delilah nods in understanding. “Well, Wren won’t shut up about finally having someone normal around, if it’s anything to you. He had a learning curve, too. But he’s fine now. Which—speaking of, he’s picking me up by the student center.”

You wave her off on your way to your own boyfriend, hand shielding the sun out of your eyes as soon as you’re close enough to see his hair up close.

“The end of an era,” you begin dramatically.

“Oh, c’mon, it can’t be that bad, baby girl,” he complains. He automatically bends down, letting you run your hands all through it, mussing it up a little until he swats your hands away. You survey him closely, the hint of stubble on his stache line, the messy hair, the aviators he had on. The California sun had done him well, and he was gaining a little bit of sun back on his skin tone.

“You look great,” you compliment. “Thanks for sticking it out for McCall’s party. Does it feel good?”

His shoulders drop, and he pulls you in by the straps on your backpack for a long kiss. “So much better. I swear, you would’ve been able to braid it soon.”

“That’s the dream. Take me home? I need a nap after my capstone,” you whine, letting him slip your backpack off of your shoulders and put it in your backseat for you.

—

The first thing you notice when you and Rafe get home is your room is dark. The AC had kicked on, Davis is gone and McCall is in her room so the house is quiet, your boyfriend is trailing behind you, the blinds are blocking the sun—perfect nap time conditions.

Wait.

“Rafe,” you gasp. “Did you fix my blinds?”

“No, they were un-fixable,” he laughs, going to demonstrate how they open. “Like, I tried, sweetheart, I did. But what the fuck did you do to them?”

“There was a bug.”

He just laughs again, rolling his eyes. His cheeks are bright red. “Well, anyways. These are completely new, the old set is in the garage. I put them in after my haircut.” He draws them up and down, strong arms and nimble hands showing you how they work. Your hands wrap around his waist from where you stand behind him, squeezing him extra tight.

“Where’d you learn how to do all of this stuff?”

He pulls the blinds back down, the white slats dropping as they’re supposed to. “My dad used to bring me on jobs when I was a kid, leave me with the contractors and the construction workers. It was definitely an OSHA violation, but. I really liked that part—the hands-on stuff. Way more fun than finances and servicing accounts.”

His tone drops into that tone it always does when he talks about his family, and you redirect the conversation immediately. The cloud you’d both been trapped under since last night was finally clearing, and you weren’t letting anything ruin it.

“Did you at least wear a little hard hat?”

“Yeah, I’ll dig up a picture one day. Hey, I got you this at the store, too,” he says abruptly, shifting out of your reach to walk toward your desk. Your brow furrows as his back blocks your view of whatever he’s holding, before he turns around, holding a plant in his hands. The six-inch pot looks minuscule in his hands. He looks around at the plants in your room, before holding it out toward you. “I noticed you didn’t have one like this in here—at least I think. And I bought you a real pot, too. I was gonna plant it myself but—well, I’m a lot of things, but I’m not a gardener.”

“Rafe, you bought me a plant?” you wonder, closing the distance in between you as you look at what he’s holding in his hands. It’s a snake plant. Sturdy, easy to take care of, formidable against most things.

“I looked it up, and they’re supposed to be really reliable. And they don’t die easy, not like the flowers I get you,” he explains. You look over at the vase on your dresser, the flowers Rafe had scheduled to be delivered to you his first night here are beautiful, but they were already wilting. “I just want… I thought you could look at it, take care of it, and think of me. Alright? When I’m not here—”

You take it out of his hands, setting it back on your desk. “I can’t believe you bought me a plant. You grew your hair out for me, and came to visit me, and fixed my blinds, and bought me a plant.”

And you’re on him after that, lips pressing into his incessantly. Rafe takes it in a pleased stride, letting you relish in a small semblance of the upper-hand before he’s gently guiding you backward towards the bed. But before you get there, he pulls off to kiss your forehead, leveling you with a serious look while he pushes a strand of hair behind your ear. “Of course I did, Y/n/n. I’d do anything for you. You know that, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I know it,” you murmur, pulling him backwards until he’s backing you up to the foot of your bed.

“You said you wanted to nap?” He says, reaching to tug the claw clip out of your hair, other hand coming to hold the strands against your head gently so he doesn’t rip any hair out in the process.

“Did you have something else in mind?” You giggle, squealing when he tosses the clip aside and immediately attacks your neck, bending to grasp behind your kneecaps. You’re on the bed in seconds, Rafe hovering over you. He reaches over to close the blinds, the room darkening once again.

“Maybe.”

“I could edit your essay right now,” you suggest, but you’re joking. He narrows his eyes. “Pay you back.”

“Later, after dinner tonight. And you should know it’s really hot how smart you are.”

“Mm, it’s hot that you just like, know how to build shit and do things.”

“Thanks, baby girl,” he murmurs against your neck, humming when you mewl at a nip to your collarbone. “I’d build you anything.”

You push him off, hand smoothing over the short hair at the back of his head as you level him with a look. “Build me a house one day?”

Rafe freezes where his hand is skirting at the hem of your shirt, a look flashing across his face. “Jesus christ, Y/n/n.”

—

“Cameron. I’ve literally always wanted to come here.”

Rafe just beams, a huge toothy grin on his face as the valets open both of your doors for you.

When Rafe told you he’d booked dinner reservations for the two of you, you hadn’t known what to expect. He didn’t know the city at all, and you half expected to show up at a tourist trap downtown. But of course he’d done perfectly, and you’d been holding your breath the entire ride as soon as he pulled off the freeway to drive out to the coast. There was only one restaurant in this direction off of that particular exit, and you knew exactly which one it was.

“I know,” Rafe says, holding your clutch dutifully as you rearrange your dress after the car ride. “I did my research.”

“Davis? McCall? My mom? Li? Dylan?” you rattled off, whining more and more as Rafe just shook his head.

“I’d never expose my sources. C’mon,” he urges, tugging you toward the string-lit entrance. You feel like you’re floating as the maitre’d greets Rafe by name, immediately escorting you to a table on their back patio. You barely let him pull out your chair for you and pour your waters, the menus placed in front of you only for a few seconds before you’re reaching across the corner of the table, elbows planted on the surface as you pull Rafe down into a kiss.

“I’m so in love with you.”

“I’m quite literally never gonna get used to hearing that.”

“I hope not. I love seeing how red your ears get,” you tease, finger coming up to trace one of them. He leans out of your touch at that, suddenly looking very interested in the wine list. “Hey. You know I would’ve told you that even if you took me to the taco stand down the street from my apartment, right?”

A look flashes in his eyes as he stares at the wine list, but then he’s nodding. “I know.”

“You do?” you press, hand coming to hold his where it’s gripping the side of the menu firmly.

He finally looks over at you, ghost of a smile pulling at his lips. He pulls you in for one more chaste kiss. He believed you this time. “I know, Y/l/n. Promise. But you know you deserve way better than a taco stand, right?”

“Tell me that after you try them.”

He just shakes his head, hand reaching over to tuck a strand of fallen hair behind your ear. His eyes flicker over your bare shoulders, the way your dress pulls around your waist. “You look beautiful, by the way.”

The waiter comes to take down your drink orders, Rafe rolling his eyes at your antics when you just turn to stare at him when prompted for yours. He tells the waiter exactly what you want, getting it perfect as always. He could roll his eyes as all he wanted, but you know he loved the feeling of taking care of you, ears burning red again at the way you preen when he tells the waiter your favorite champagne before ordering for himself.

—

The waiter clears your plates when you’re both done eating, hurrying away with a promise to bring by a dessert menu and another round of drinks. You decline the latter, but Rafe doesn’t.

For the past ten minutes, he’s been unable to stop checking his phone, slipping it in an out of the breast pocket of his brown suit jacket repeatedly. In between that he’s half paying attention to your conversation, taking generous sips of his drinks, and bouncing his leg nervously. He finally catches your inquisitive look, sliding his phone into the pocket of his white pants instead. He gives you a reassuring smile, but then his eyes start flicking to his watch instead, and he sighs.

“What is it?” you ask.

“Nothing.”

“Rafe, c’mon.”

He sighs again. “My dad. He keeps calling me.”

“Oh,” you breathe. You check your own watch, calculating the three hour time difference. “You should answer. It’s late over there, it might be important.”

“No,” Rafe says definitively. “I’m sure it’s just work stuff.”

“He knows you’re with me. Just tell him we’re at dinner,” you suggest. You choose your next words carefully. You can already see his discomfort growing the more you two talk about Ward, and you place a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I’m sure he’ll… well. Um, maybe he’ll let you call him after? Or you can take it now, baby. I really don’t mind.”

Your boyfriend’s quiet, not leaning into your touch. He doesn’t jerk away from it, but he doesn’t look at you, eyes trained on where his pointer finger traces the rim of his drink. He doesn’t say anything, and it’s so quiet between the two of you that you can hear Rafe’s watch vibrating against his wrist.

“Rafe,” you encourage, growing concerned by his behavior. “Just take it. It’s either work or your family. Important either way.”

He finally tugs the watch off in annoyance, dropping it into his jacket pocket. “He doesn’t know, actually.”

Your hand slides up to to his cheek, still not getting it. But you know you don’t like it. You wait for him to turn to you. “He doesn’t know what?”

“That I’m here right now. With you.”

Your touch drops from him immediately, and he leans forward, chasing the connection. “You didn’t tell him?”

“I didn’t tell him,” he confirms quietly. You recede further into yourself, the cosmic feeling you’d had all night leaving your body immediately, in it’s wake only a chill running down your spine. Rafe had lied to his father about you. “Y/n/n, listen to me. I didn’t—“

Rafe’s apprehensive tone is interrupted by your waiter. He sets another drink in front of Rafe, sliding the dessert menu in your direction. But you feel sick.

“Actually, I think we’ll just take the check,” you say. Rafe opens his mouth, but the waiter speaks before he can.

“Are you sure? It’s no rush. Finish your drink, sir. We can bring it in a little while,” he says, directing it at Rafe rather than you. You just stare down at the table, Rafe taking your cue as he always does.

“We are in a bit of a rush, actually. The check would be great,” he says firmly, the waiter nodding and walking away immediately. The fact that the waiter had listened to him and not you, urging Rafe to enjoy his last drink when you clearly wanted to leave. It annoys you even more.

“So,” you breathe, as soon as the waiter is out of ear shot. “You’re hiding me now.”

“I’m not hiding you, Y/n/n. That’s ridiculous,” Rafe rushes, eyes following your waiter all the way to the check stand.

“But you didn’t tell him.”

“I did tell him, actually. Months ago, when I booked the tickets,” he says. “But a work thing came up this weekend that I wasn’t expecting, and he didn’t remember.”

“So why didn’t you remind him?”

“Because he would’ve made me stay in Georgia—or come home, or, fuck,” Rafe swears. The waiter comes back, thanking you both profusely, directing it more to Rafe, who’s already pulled his wallet out. You sit with your arms crossed over your chest as he rushes to slip a card into the slot, fumbling and accidentally pulling out three, the plastic clacking onto the white table cloth. “Shit, sorry.”

“No worries at all, Mr. Cameron,” the waiter says, turning to you as Rafe sorts his stuff out. “Did you enjoy your meal, Mrs. Cameron?”

Rafe freezes. It takes you a few long seconds to realize the waiter is talking to you.

“Oh, we—yes, I did. Thank you,” you fumble, the fakest smile you can muster plastered to your face. Rafe shakes his head, finally giving the check back.

“I’m glad. I’ll be right back with this,” he promises.

“Did you tell them we’re married?”

“No, oh my god, Y/n/n. They must have just assumed when I made the reservation under my name,” Rafe says, checking his phone again. You clock a slew of missed calls and texts from Dad.

“Little does he know,” you remark.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“That it’s hilarious someone could think we’re married when you can’t even be honest with your father about visiting me.”

Rafe blindly grabs for the check when the waiter returns, silently walking away as he finally picks up on the energy between you two. Rafe barely looks down as he scrawls out the tip. “Y/n—”

You don’t wait for him to finish, feeling like you’re outside of your body as you’re scooting out your chair and making for the exit as soon as you deem appropriate.

“Sweetheart, let me drive,” Rafe says, hot on your heels to the valet stand. You fish the ticket out of your clutch, forcing a fake smile for the attendee. “You had a drink.”

“I wasn’t the one sucking down G&Ts all night,” you say. It comes out meaner than you intended, but it’s true. Rafe had a higher tolerance than you, and he didn’t seem drunk at all, he didn’t even drink his third round. But tonight, you’d die on this hill.

“I’m not drunk, Y/n/n.”

“Good, neither am I,” you say, your car coming into view. “Now get in the car.”

“Y/n, I know you’re mad, but—”

“It was one glass of champagne, Rafe,” you seethe, already circling around the the driver’s side. “Can we talk about this at home?”

Your boyfriend is angrily folding himself into the passenger seat, rolling his eyes at the way the valet smiles when you tip him, tripping up over his words as he thanks you. You couldn’t care less for the attention, starting the car and pulling back onto the main road in silence.

“I’d rather talk about it now.”

You look over at him when you pull up to the a stoplight, peeling your hands off the steering wheel, making a gesture for him to start. “Okay, why don’t you go first, then?”

“What?”

“You want to talk about it now. So talk,” you challenge, accelerating as soon as the light turns green.

Rafe heaves a frustrated sigh, hand dragging over his face in your peripheral vision. “I know you’re mad I didn’t tell him. But you don’t understand what kind of pressure I’m under.”

“And how is lying about being with me going to make that better? For me or for you, Rafe?”

“What he doesn’t know—”

“Bullshit, Rafe. He’s gonna find out. Especially if you’re shirking responsibilities to come see me. Which I’m going to guess…” you trail off, looking at him. He won’t make eye contact, and you scoff. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“I should’ve told him. And I should’ve told you,” Rafe concedes. “But I really didn’t think you’d be this upset.”

“Why wouldn’t I be this upset, Rafe? You lied about coming to see me to your dad, like we’re seventeen years old or something. You’re an adult,” you say.

“I told you, I don’t care what my dad thinks about you. Or us.”

“You should.”

“You don’t get it, Y/n/n,” he sighs.

“Then help me get it, Rafe,” you beg, eyes flickering from the road.

“He doesn’t know me. He doesn’t know anything about what I want or what I need,” Rafe says. “It doesn’t matter what he thinks.”

The next words fly out of your mouth before you can even help it. “Maybe he does Rafe. Because he said you’d do this. He said you can’t think with your head when your heart is—” you cut yourself off when your gas light flickers on. Rafe’s silent next to you, and you take a deep breath before your next statement. “Sometimes I feel like you can’t even see far enough past this idealized version of our relationship, this dream girl fantasy you’ve had—”

“That’s not fucking fair, Y/n/n.”

“—to realize that I’m a person. And this thing with your dad is hurting me, Rafe. And I know it’s hurting you too. Did you think this through? Blowing off your job to come see me when your dad already hates me?”

“He doesn’t hate you.”

“Rafe—”

“He hates me!” Rafe practically yells. “And he doesn’t want me to be happy.”

That shuts you up, quickly, any residual anger leaving your body in an instant.

“And he knows that being with you makes me happy.”

You just keep driving, silently pulling off at the next exit. Rafe looks over at you in confusion. You shrug, voice coming out quieter. “I need gas.”

Rafe nods, going back to looking out the window. You shut off your car when you pull into the station, unlocking your door and going to pull off your seatbelt.

“Stay in the car. I meant to get you some this morning. Ran out of time picking out your plant,” your boyfriend says gently, reaching across to stop your hand going for the door. You just nod silently, letting him get out while you pop the gas cap for him. Hearing him swear at the gas prices in California through your open window would normally be enough to make you giggle, reach over and ruffle his hair. But not tonight.

Once you feel him settle the pump in your car, you find yourself hopping out, ignoring his protests as you wrap him up in your arms.

“I’m sure he doesn’t hate you.”

“Feels like it sometimes,” he says quietly, giving you a squeeze before pushing you out of his hold. “But hey. I need—you can’t… look, I had a feeling you didn’t tell me everything he said to you at Midsummers.”

“Rafe,” you start, but he waves a hand.

“It’s fine, I get it. But please,” he says, turning to take the pump out of the car. He settles it back into the machine, shoving his hands into his pockets. He turns to look at you, catching the car door where you’re about to shut it again. “Don’t ever use what my dad says about me against me. Not ever again.”

You swallow, nodding like a scolded child. “I’m sorry.”

Rafe just shuts you into the car again, saying one last thing before circling back around to his side of the car. “Me too, sweetheart.”

He curses under his breath as his phone goes off again.

—

You’re thankful neither of your roommates are home to see the state the two of you arrive in, dead silent except for the clack of your heels in the driveway. You don’t wait for Rafe to follow you inside, letting him sit in the car for however long he wanted.

You’ve felt it building in your chest for the past half hour, but you somehow make it all the way into your bathroom before a gasped sob shakes through your body, hurriedly kicking your pumps off and grasping the sink counter with shaky hands.

You hear the front door shut, rushing to turn the shower on to cover up any sounds of your cries. You’d spent so long on your makeup and hair, over the moon with excitement for Rafe’s secret plans for the night.

You never thought it’d end like this, with you working desperately at hiding your emotions from him while he most likely stands on the other side of the door.

You take your time, washing your hair, exfoliating, doing the extended version of your skincare routine—anything to prolong the time before you have to face Rafe with your puffy eyes and fragile heart. You let your finger trace the diagonal tiles on the shower wall, spacing out when your eyes come across his razor. Everything else he used was yours; he pretended to gag and complain at your coconut shampoo and hydrangea body wash, but you knew he loved it.

When you finally muster the strength to towel off and open the door, Rafe is sitting with his hands clasped at the edge of your bed. He looks up as you enter, a ragged breath rolling through his torso.

“Y/n/n, I really don’t wanna fight my last night here.”

“Then you should’ve told your dad where you were, Rafe.”

“I did. Just got off the phone, actually.”

That explains the flush to his face, the angry red hue creeping up from under his shirt collar. His hair’s wild, too, like he’d been running his hands through it. You nod, biting your lip. “How did it go?”

“‘Bout as I expected,” he sighs, standing to slip his suit jacket off. He drapes it over the chair he’d set his bag up on, digging his hands into his pockets. “Ripped me to shreds. I have to go home next weekend.”

“Rafe.”

“Don’t, it’s my fault. Not yours.”

“I know, but baby—”

“I’m not talking about it tonight,” he interjects, working at the buttons on his dress shirt. You don’t say anything, tilting your head in confusion when you see his Macbook open on your bed. “Can you look over my paper?”

He’s pushing you away, deflecting from the subject again. And you don’t know if that’s alright with you or not at this point. “You want me to do that right now?”

“Figure it’s better than what we’ve been doing,” he shrugs. “I’m gonna shower.”

“Sure,” you nod, cinching your robe around yourself tighter. Rafe moves to you, pushing your damp hair behind your shoulders and getting a good luck at your face where he holds it in his hands. He kisses the top of your head, and you wish it didn’t make fresh tears spring to your eyes.

Rafe’s smart as a whip, but writing is your craft, and you find enough mistakes to warrant a thorough edit. It’s a few grammatical things, way more stylistic suggestions. You usually write jokes and silly comments (this is a good sentence RC! ur so smart. and hot or did u seriously confuse effect and affect. i told u to use “impact” when u can’t remember!) in the side margins when he sends you his papers, but you can’t bring yourself to this time.

You force yourself out of your bed when you make it to the bulk of his argument, Rafe’s voice so strong and clear in your head that’s it’s impossible to separate it anymore.

You take a second to pull on a pajama set and slip fully under the covers, trying in vain to pretend this is just a paper for an underclassmen you’ve taken under your wing—a friend who’d shared a Google Doc link and Zelle’d you for a coffee in exchange.

But no matter how hard you try, you can’t detach the document from the boy in your bathroom currently, your heart heavier and heavier with each line. It’s not even like it’s an emotional paper, his argument about the International Monetary Fund hardly enough to pull on any heart strings.

Still, by the time he’s freshly showered and settling down beside you again, arm around your shoulders immediately, your hands are shaking as you sift through his conclusion.

He doesn’t speak for a while.

“How is it?”

“Good.”

“Good?”

“Yeah.”

“You aren’t lying?”

“N-no,” you say, skimming back to the top after your last edit. You push his MacBook off of your lap. “Few things. You, uh, y-you still need to watch your parallel structure and restrictive clauses, but, e-easy fixes, shit—”

“Sweetheart.”

You completely break, tears flowing over as you bring your knees up to your chest, hide your face in them so he can’t see you cry.

“Shit,” Rafe says, arm on your shoulders tugging you into him. “Baby, hey.”

“I-I didn’t expect it to be this hard, Rafe,” you cry, the sound muffled by your hands. “And it sucks.”

Rafe’s not offering up reassurances immediately, like he usually does when you cry. He usually always knows what to say, but not this time; he just nods instead. “I know.”

“I don’t understand why you couldn’t just tell him,” you say. “We were fine—”

“Probably the same reason you couldn’t tell me Agnes was having another baby,” he says.

Your head flies up instantly. He just shrugs sadly, tugging his bottom lip in between his teeth. “Rafe, was it Beau? Nevermind, I’m—I should’ve told you.”

He just shrugs. “You didn’t.”

“Rafe,” you say, shifting your body to face his. “I’m not—I haven’t made any decisions yet. You know that.”

“Do I? Because you shut down whenever I try to get you to talk about it. And Beau and McCall, and all of your friends are just saying all of this shit, and I just feel—are you not serious about us?“

“You’re not actually asking me that.”

“I shouldn’t have to, Y/n/n,” he says, standing up, grabbing both of your towels and putting them in your bathroom to dry. “But I have no fucking idea where your head is at half the time. Everything is just guesswork, or coming from other people. Your friends, my dad—“

Your eyebrows furrow immediately, and you stand up, too. “And what could your dad know about me? You didn’t even tell him you were here.”

Rafe runs a hand through his hair, the damp strands slicking back slightly. His gaze is hard when he levels you with it again. “Sorry. Am I supposed to vouch for you—get him to offer you a job at his company? So you’re all set up and have a reason to come home?”

“Rafe, I—what? What are you even talking about?”

“Leaving the Outer Banks has never been on the table for me, ever. You’ve always known that, since before we started dating.”

“I—I know that Rafe,” you stumble, never more confused in your life. “I’d never expect you to come out here, or anywhere with me, unless you wanted to—”

“Well Beau practically recruited me into his company last night, Y/n/n. Just so you can take care of their new baby for them,” he spits. “He talked to me like I’m just some accessory to your nanny gig, some little relocation expense that needs to be handled. Like I should be so honored to jump at the chance.”

“I didn’t ask him to do that, Rafe,” you say. “He’s in your industry, and he knows you’re part of my plan. I’m sorry he made you feel like that but I literally can’t control what my employer does to try and get me to stay at my stupid ‘nanny gig.’”

“I didn’t call it stupid.”

You scoff. “You know what you meant.”

You cross your arms over your chest, closing yourself off to him. His hand reaches out, before he retracts it and lets it hang at his side awkwardly.

“I’ve just felt like I’ve been suffocating this entire trip, Y/n/n,” he starts softly. “Everyone out here is so much better than me. I’ve never felt like that before, ever.”

“I don’t think it’s good you feel that way when I’m just trying to show you my life and the people in it.”

“You’re right. It’s not.”

“Everyone—all of my friends love you. I love having you here. I—I don’t want you to feel that way, Rafe,” you say, tears building at your waterline again.

“Then be honest with me, Y/n/n,” he says, exasperated with his hands on his hips. “We can get through these things if we talk about them. You hide these things until they blow up in our face, Midsummers, the new baby—”

“When are you going to let Midsummers go?”

“When you stop letting what my dad might think of you rule our entire relationship.”

“And so we’re just going to gloss over the fact that you blew off work to be here and didn’t tell your dad? And that’s the career you’re set on going home to?”

Rafe balks at that. “Y/n, I swear to god—”

“You’re scared.”

“Oh, I’m fucking terrified, Y/n/n,” he admits easily. “I’ve made you cry, what, three times? In the past twenty-four hours?”

Your head is spinning by now, the same awkward and uncomfortable discussions you’ve been avoiding—barely having, coming to a head all at the same time. You sit back down on your bed, hands in your lap. When you look back up at your boyfriend, he’s staring at the wall behind your bed, a forlorn look in his eyes. When you pat the spot next to you he shakes himself out of it, settling next to you.

“This is why I didn’t wanna argue tonight, Y/n. I knew we wouldn’t get anywhere. It’s just the same thing, over and over.”

You can’t help it, leaning into his shoulder on instinct. He smells like your shampoo. He doesn’t jerk away, but he doesn’t lean into you either, staying completely still. “I don’t even know what we’re arguing about anymore.”

That earns a dejected laugh from him. “Too many things we’ve been avoiding. For a while.”

You nod against his shoulder. You have no tears left at this point, replaced instead by a splitting headache and a broken heart. You stand again, closing his laptop where you’d left it open on your bed. When you slip it into his backpack for him, you noticed he’d packed while you were showering, an unwelcome reminder that this was how you were spending your last night with your boyfriend in town. Crying and arguing, nothing getting better and everything getting way worse.

Rafe’s standing when you turn back around, hands in his short pockets while he stares at the floor, waiting for you to slip under the white covers first. You tuck yourself as close as possible to the wall, swallowing around a lump in your throat when you feel him rolling onto his side, facing away from you.

—

The sun’s just barely rising when you wake up to take Rafe to the airport the next morning. Not that time had any concept to you—you’d tossed and turned all night. Rafe had too, a shaky hand coming to clutch onto one of yours at what had to be around three o’clock.

“Get some sleep, Y/n/n,” he’d whispered. With the new blinds blocking the moonlight, you couldn’t see his face as he said it. But you could almost picture it perfectly, the frown that was no doubt tugging at his lips and the worry in his eyebrows.

“Can’t,” you’d said. “Rafe?”

“Hm?”

You squeezed his hand before tucking yours back under your pillow. “I’m scared, too.”

You hated how loud the silence was as the two of you shuffled downstairs, hated how cold you felt sitting in the driver’s seat when it couldn’t be less than sixty-five degrees out, hated how clammy your hands were as you flipped the ignition over. Your vision’s blurring with tears by the time you make it to departures. If Rafe notices, he doesn’t say anything as he moves his bags from your trunk to the sidewalk. You let yourself blot under your eyes just once before you get out of the car, the pit in your stomach weighing you down with every step.

“Why are you crying?” He questions.

“Because,” your voice breaks immediately as you step up to the curb, eyes focused on getting a read of his face. There’s no real confusion in what he asks, like he’s just clarifying what you both already know. Like he wants you to say it first. “We’re about to break up, aren’t we?”

You half expect Rafe to be shocked by what you say. Maybe it was all in your head: the way he’d effectively shut you out since last night, how he hadn’t touched you the entire car ride over. He didn’t even wake you up when he was finishing packing, turning off your alarm until you only had time to wake up and get ready before you left.

But Rafe’s expression does nothing. The way his head drops, hand unfurling from around his duffel bag that falls to the sidewalk outside the terminal. It’s all you need.

He pulls his sunglasses off, hanging them on his shirt collar and putting his hands on his hips. You hate the way he leans back from you, too, making no moves to comfort you while you cry.

“I don’t know what else to do, Y/n/n,” he admits. “I just—I think this is hurting you a lot more than I thought it was. I thought I was protecting you by keeping my dad away from it all, that pushing you on your future would be good for us. But I was making it worse.”

“But Rafe,” you counter lamely, not one ounce of confidence in your tone. “We could—”

“We could what, Y/n/n? Keep on like we are?”

“It was fine for a while,” you plead.

“Yeah, until we left home. And I came here,” he points out. “Alright? We graduate in months. This is getting real. And maybe we just don’t—maybe this doesn’t work outside of our hometown.”

“Don’t say that,” you beg, not giving up.

“Does this feel like it’s working to you? You’ve been crying all weekend. And I feel like I can’t even breathe out here, Y/n/n. I’m not cut out for this life, baby girl.”

That knocks the air out of your lungs, and you have to scramble to pick up the thread. “How many times do I have to tell you you’re enough for me? You’re…” you trail off, knowing what you want to say, but not if you should: you’re it for me, Rafe. When you don’t speak again, he just shakes his head, continuing.

“I thought I was ready to give you everything you deserve, but I’m not that guy right now,” he says, shaking his head. “And I can’t be the guy that’s hurting you instead.”

“I don’t need you be any guy Rafe, I need you to be you. I’m in love with you,” you say, stepping closer to him before you can help it.

“This? The pressure, a-and my dad, and the fighting, and the pain?” he asks rhetorically. “That’s me, Y/n. And I hate it. But that’s how it is, and you don’t need to be dragged into it.”

“I told you I could handle it.”

“I don’t think either of us is handling this well right now, Y/n.”

He’s speaking with finality, like his mind has been made up for a while now. This isn’t a conversation anymore, a decision made by two parties. He’s telling you what’s happening, whether you like it or not. And that thing is happening again, that thing where it’s your instinct to hide any unsavory emotions from Rafe, give him no reasons to worry about you. But he’s always been able to see right through you, for better or for worse, notice the shift in your facial features or the quaver in your voice. And this is one time where you really wished he didn’t know you so well, so you could preserve one minor sense of dignity while you tried to pretend you agreed with him.

You’d do a lot of things for Rafe, but begging him to stay when he clearly felt like he needed to let you go wasn’t going to be one of them. It’d just cause more pain for both of you.

“I think…” you say, voice wobbling even as you nod. “I think you’re right. Rafe, he’s your dad. And I don’t know what I’m doing with my life—you do. This would be a lot of work. And that’s your future.”

At the first sign of your confirmation, faulty as it is, Rafe is dead silent, hand coming up to run the back of his neck until he can find his next words. “You know, I uh. I thought you were my future, too,” he admits, his voice cracking slightly at the end of his statement. “I thought we could just fall in love and then wait on the rest to follow.”

You cross your arms over your chest, wiping a hand under both of your eyes before you do. “But it’s not, is it?”

“And I can’t keep hurting you while we figure that out,” he says, nodding, like he’s convincing himself of the words as he says it. Like he knows neither of you believe them, but it’s what you need to hear anyways. “I can’t do it anymore.”

You just nod, biting your chapped bottom lip tight enough you start to feel pain from it. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

He’s wordlessly tugging you into his arms, and you try your hardest to suppress your tears so that he won’t have to walk into the airport in a tear-stained shirt. “I can’t believe I finally got you and I’m already letting you go.”

But you don’t have to. Long game, Cameron. Remember?

You don’t say anything, and then he’s sliding out of your hold, a hand instinctively coming to your jaw to pull you in for a kiss. He catches himself halfway, awkwardly pecking your forehead instead at the last second. You could cry even more just thinking about how quickly you’d fallen out of the easiness of each other’s touch. “I have to go, Y/n/n.”

He slings his backpack over his shoulders, grabbing the handles of his duffle with a sense of finality.

“Safe flight,” you say instinctively.

“Thanks. Um, can you text me so I know you got home safe?”

“I can do that.”

“Okay. I should…” he turns to face the sliding doors, his feet staying rooted to the spot. “I should head inside.”

You let yourself get one last look at him, committing everything to memory as much as you can, filing away the way his shirt falls over his shoulders, the way he’d mussed his new haircut with a little bit of gel that morning, the stupid shoes he’d been worried about your roommates hating—that felt like a lifetime ago. “I’ll see you—um. Well, maybe next time we’re home, I guess?”

Not in two weeks to surprise him on his birthday in Georgia, like you’d planned originally.

“Sure,” he nods, looking perplexed, like he hadn’t even thought about it. A beat passes, neither of you making any moves toward your respective exit paths. “You know you were never a fantasy, right? I… I fell in love with you, Y/n/n.”

Then why are you making me drive home from the airport, heart broken and crying? And why am I letting you? “I know, Rafe. I love you, too. And I’m sorry for what I said about your dad. Don’t ever listen to anything he says about you. It’s okay to have a heart, Rafe. You’re still so smart, and capable, and I—I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Thanks, Y/n/n.”

You circle around to the driver’s side before you can think about touching him again, settling into your car as he stays planted to the spot on the curb. The finality of the situation hardly settles in before he’s tapping on your passenger window, signaling for you to roll it down. “I’m gonna watch you leave.”

“Go inside, Rafe,” you instruct. He stays stubbornly rooted to the spot, dropping his bag again, folding his arms over his chest.

“Just need to make sure you get out of here in one piece, sweetheart.”

You don’t even have the emotional capacity to be annoyed, just barely finding enough strength to turn away from him for the last time, shifting your car into drive. You watch him in the rear view for as long as you can, the way his body turns in the direction you’re driving off in. You almost hope he’ll run after you, or just kick his bag in frustration—anything to prove to you he wasn’t sure about this. As unsure as you are.

But he just stands there calmly, watching you as long as he can, before you can’t see him anymore.

—

Your roommates are sitting on the couch having coffee together when you get home, and the entire drive over you’d weighed the options of how to proceed when you came home. Half of you wants to run upstairs, rip down the new blinds, throw away the shirt of his that you kept, toss the little plant out of the window. But you can’t even bring yourself to take one step up the stairs, beelining for the living room instead, wringing your hands at your sides nervously.

“Aw, baby. Do you miss him already?” Davis asks, immediately assessing your tear stained cheeks and your wobbly bottom lip. You don’t answer, just looking at McCall, hoping you can silently communicate what happened. Her jaw goes slack, and she’s standing off of the couch to pull you into her arms immediately.

“No,” she says, hands cradling the back of your head. “You didn’t.”

You just begin to cry again as she comforts you, bleary eyes catching Davis’s shocked look from over her shoulder. “We broke up.”

—

After slogging through check-in and TSA like a zombie (seriously? he thought to himself, when he emptied out his pockets at security only to discover one of your hair ties in his jeans), Rafe practically collapses into the first chair he can find at his gate, bent forward with his head in his hands.

You hadn’t texted him yet, and he’s fidgeting trying not to check again for the thirtieth time, too nauseous to hit up the Starbucks in his terminal.

He'd agonized over making the right choice, the hard choice, all night. But everything felt wrong as soon as he said it.

In an attempt to distract himself, he swipes through the other apps on his phone, opens Instagram for the first time all weekend. A mistake.

His heart is sinking lower and lower with every new follower request he has from your friends. Wren, Delilah, Agnes, even that fucking Kennedy kid—he only immediately denies Frederick, ignoring the rest to deal with later. Davis and McCall had been tagging him in stories all weekend, ones he couldn’t even see anymore because they’d timed out. He supposes he should be thankful for that one, though, because he can guess they’re all pictures of him with you.

He finally scrolls down to the first notification he’d gotten that weekend, a static photo tag. From you.

y/n tagged you in a photo

i love you to the obx and back, rc 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨

He’s clicking on it before he can stop himself, thumb hovering over the picture of you two in your costumes on Friday night, both smiling, slightly blurry (your feed aesthetic for the moment, he’d noticed) where you lean into each other. Clinking those stupid beers you bought just for the picture. He’d be smiling despite himself remembering how he convinced you to try it, laughing out loud at your face, if the memory didn’t make him feel sick now. If the way you preened, pretty lips pulling up into a smile before you kissed his cheek, when he made you a fancy drink right after as an apology wasn’t a literal punch to his gut right now.

How were the two of you so, so happy, only a few short days ago? How had he fucked things up that badly in less than a week?

When Rafe goes to open the comments, because he can’t help it, he already saw what Kelce and Davis commented, and he wants to know what everyone else said, is clinging to this last piece of what you two had—then the page refreshes.

And it’s gone. Photo unavailable.

—

tags: @moniamaybank @downbytheouterbanks @littlementalpolaroids @fangirlvoice @chicagoblackhawkslover96 @amourtentiaa @loveylangdon @oopsiedoopsie23 @sodasback @arvinrussellseggplant @cooper8224 @rafeyybabyy @lemur46 @cameronsrafe @imjustanothernerd @judayyyw @irlpadfoot @synonymforlame

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the-insomniac-emporium · 3 years

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Bound Blood (Cassandra Dimitrescu/Reader, Soulmate AU) Pt. 5.5 Bonus

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T+ for language Warnings: None Summary: Local feral human spends some time with their new family. Four short bits featuring Daphne (Maiden OC), Bela, Lady D, Daniela, and a surprise guest. Enjoy. Previous Chapters: 1: Sharing Is (Not) Caring; 2: Bloodbath, Baby!, 3: Haunt Me Dearly, 4: Portraits For Ghosts, 5: Heart Of The Matter

5.5: Family

“Wait, you’re telling me that you came here willingly?” You asked, mouth agape, eyes wide. It felt like every time you talked to Daphne she had something incredible to say. Which was, of course, why she was your favorite maiden to talk to. That, and the fact that she had adapted so quickly to your ‘charming personality’. So far she was the only servant you had been willing to be honest with. Mainly about your feelings regarding your blood bond, but also just about your relationship with Cassandra in general. Something about Daphne simply made her incredibly approachable. From what you had heard, you weren’t the only one to think as such, with her being fairly popular among the castle workers.

“More of us do than you might expect. Some consider it an honor to serve one of the four Lords, and Castle Dimitrescu is certainly… nicer than either the factory or the reservoir. Personally, I came here for a friend of mine. She, well, had less of a choice. I couldn’t bear the thought of her being here without knowing anyone, so it felt like I only had one option. Can’t say I regret my decision, if you can believe it,” Daphne explained, folding laundry all the while. At the same time, you carefully sort through the not yet washed clothing, separating them into two baskets. After all, you wouldn’t want Lady Dimitrescu to end up with a pink dress! Technically this wasn’t your job, nor did you have a job at all, but you hated having idle hands- especially when talking to someone who was working. At first Daphne had protested, but she had given in upon realizing just how stubborn you could be.

“That’s… impressive. I mean, holy shit, that's a real ride or die friendship right there. Is she, uh, is your friend still, you know, around?” You stuttered, cursing your tongue for asking such a thing. If the answer was no, you were going to feel like a real asshole. Which, admittedly, you had a tendency to be. But this wasn’t one of the times where it was intentional. Thankfully, Daphne is all smiles, and even seems amused by your spluttering.

“Yes, we’re even roommates. Well, us and five others. Possibly with a sixth one on the way, if we ever get someone to fill the empty space,” she replies, pausing to think. Then she’s back to work, refusing to waste any time. “Speaking of roommates… I know I said I’m not one for gossip, and I meant it, but a little songbird told me that Cassandra seems to be in a much better mood these days. Are the two of you, well, getting along? It would be nice to know that soulmates can overcome even the roughest of introductions.” There’s a hint of something odd in her tone, and you take a moment to wonder what she’s (unintentionally) hinting at. Had she met her soulmate, only for things to go poorly?... Before answering her, you make a mental note, deciding to see if any of the other maidens had a scar across their nose.

“It’s not like she and I are dating or anything. We’re just, you know, not hating each other. Currently,” you said, shrugging. But Daphne raises an eyebrow at you, and you find yourself instinctively feeling guilty, somehow feeling small next to the shortest person you knew. “Alright, alright, we might have… Okay we kissed. And promised each other not to die, because having your soulmate die hurts like hell. Also maybe she showed me her mom’s art collection and I made a joke about the titty sculptures because holy shit, this house has a lot of titties.” At this, Daphne bursts into laughter, grinning from ear to ear.

“Amen to that, for sure.”

ii.

“So… fan of science, I see,” you say, awkwardly, bouncing a little on your heels. Next to you is the eldest Dimitrescu daughter, who had unexpectedly joined your table in the library. There were several other places she could have sat, with both more comfortable seating and more workspace, but for some reason she had chosen here. So far she hadn’t said a word. Hell, you hadn’t spoken to her since your first meeting, where she had suggested killing you. Naturally, you weren’t quite sure what to make of her. Something told you that she felt much the same about yourself.

“Fan of oversimplification, I see,” Bela counters, after a few tense seconds. Then she sets down her book- a heavy text about Romanian avian fauna- to give you her full attention. “It would be more accurate to say that I enjoy studying biology, particularly the branch of zoology.” Well, this conversation was certainly… happening. Honestly, you couldn’t tell whether she was legitimately judging you, or merely chaffing you for her own amusement.

“You’ll have to, er, forgive me for being overly broad. Consider it a side effect of my nerves, those themselves being due to our unsavory introduction. In case you don’t recall, you put that sickle of yours into my shoulder,” you reminded, with a sarcastic smile. To your surprise, Bela chuckles at this, almost as if fondly remembering the incident. Seriously, you think, why did my soulmate have to be from this family?

“Staying silent was an option. Perhaps that would have suited you better?” Bela says, now clearly teasing, smile much more genuine than your own. Knowing she had a point, you’re quick to blush, mildly embarrassed.

“Touche. I am curious, however, why you decided to sit next to me in the first place. I certainly wouldn’t have tried starting a conversation if you hadn’t,” you explained.

“Like I said… I enjoy studying zoology,” Bela replies, with a sly grin. It takes you a few moments to understand the intended implications. Once you do, however, you’re giving her a hard stare. Then you scoot your chair a few inches away from her, in exaggerated movements. “Don’t worry, I was only joking. Though you certainly are an interesting human. Much more, hmm, cheeky? Compared to the servants, at least.”

“Somehow I get the feeling that they simply prefer being alive, as opposed to not being as snippy. Except maybe Daphne, now that I think about it. Very sweet, that one,” you muse. “Regardless, I think I’ll return to my book now, for it lacks a tongue, and is therefore less likely to taunt me.” Doing just as you had said, you open the book, holding it a bit higher than what would be comfortable, so that it becomes a ‘shield’ of sorts. Nothing was quite as satisfying as subtle body language.

Accepting your words with a shrug, Bela also resumes reading, turning to a bookmarked page. Roughly an hour of relative quiet passes. Neither of you so much as glance at each other, not even when she drops the pen she had been taking notes with. In the end, you are the one who leaves first, and finally the silence is broken. You give your goodbyes, and Bela returns them politely. Though you do not know it, she sets her book down as soon as you leave, pausing to think about you. Now that things had ‘calmed down’, it was reassuring for her to know that you weren’t always full of spite. Still, you held onto your cleverness (for the most part), leaving her with no doubt about the universe’s decision. You were her sister’s soulmate.

iii.

“It’s official: I’m lost in a creepy castle. The universe hates me. Probably should have realized that sooner, considering how it decided to introduce me to my soulmate,” you mutter, scowling deeply, as you wander unfamiliar halls. How had you even gotten lost? Sure, you had taken a wrong turn, but it hadn’t taken long for you to realize your mistake! Evidently you somehow managed to make another one while backtracking. Now you were standing in the center of the corridor, hands on your hips, desperate for some maiden to come rescue you. What you really didn’t want was Cassandra to find you, because she’d make fun of you for the rest of your life. It’s not like she had specifically joked about you getting lost before. Except that was exactly what had happened.

A few minutes pass uneventfully. There aren’t even any distant sounds of life; no footsteps, nor echoing voices, nor the squeaking of floorboards. All you can hear is your own breathing. As well as the occasional sigh, admittedly. By this point, there’s a part of you that’s starting to panic. After all, there was a chance that the castle was big enough for certain sections to be abandoned. Hopefully that’s not the case, you think, I mean, they’d cut the power to those parts, right? Here’s hoping… With that in mind, you get back to wandering, figuring that you’d have to eventually run into a familiar landmark. Or better yet, someone who actually knew the castle’s layout.

When salvation at last reveals its holy visage, it is not in the form of a lowly servant, rather the muffled voice of none other than Lady Dimitrescu herself. Neither her exact words nor who she’s speaking to is clear. At first, you can’t even tell where her voice is coming from, but you quickly approach one closed door, then another, searching for the source. Several doors later you’re certain you’ve found her. By then you can tell that she’s not alone. Not wanting to seem rude by interrupting, you take a few steps back, leaning against the wall to wait. For the most part you still cannot make out what’s being said, but a few words do reach your ears.

“-expected more from you. How am I-” the voice gets cut off, not by Alcina, rather a sudden gust of air, akin to massive wings flapping. When the speaker continues, they are both louder and angrier. “Someone is listening. Have you not taken steps to ensure our privacy?” Then the door is swinging open, revealing your soulmate’s mother. At first she’s practically shaking with rage, but her expression turns to shock when she sees you.

“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be with Cassandra?” Lady Dimitrescu asks, clearly stressed, as she steps into the corridor. There’s movement behind her, although you cannot make out any details. Besides, you’re quick to answer her, wishing to avoid her wrath (and that of whoever she was speaking to).

“I’m so sorry, Lady Dimitrescu, I was walking from the dining hall to Cassandra’s studio, and I took a wrong turn. I’ve been wandering for half an hour now. When I heard your voice, I thought perhaps I could, well, enlist your assistance. But you were busy, so I figured I’d wait outside. If I had-...” you pause, gulping, as the other figure steps into view. It’s a face you’re all too familiar with. One that popped up countless times through the village, and again throughout the castle, the owner’s name always spoken with acclaim, with worship. Mother Miranda, in the flesh, wings spreading out behind her, somehow cutting a more impressive silhouette than even Lady Dimitrescu. Instantly you’re falling to your knees, knowing that your sharp tongue was no match for this practical goddess.

“Who is this, Dimitrescu? Why isn’t their blood staining your claws?” Miranda questions, gaze never leaving your trembling form.

“This… this is one of my daughters’ soulmates. They were brought in with the last group of sacrifices,” Lady Dimitrescu explains, uncharacteristically hesitant. ‘Twas a true testament to Miranda’s power, as well as her influence, that she could make someone so powerful seem so weak. Which was exactly why you were shaking with anxiety. But to your surprise, the goddess does not immediately order your execution for your trespass.

“And already they know their place, hmm? Kneeling before me?” Miranda says, a strange smile dancing on her lips. Whatever anger she had been feeling a minute prior had faded, though you couldn’t even begin to guess as to why. Regardless, both Alcina and yourself are quite relieved, though neither of you are quick to show it. “Either they have a good head on their shoulders, or you still take care of some of your duties. Very well, they may live. For now. But I expect next week’s report to be far more favorable. I don’t need to remind you of the price for failing me.” With that said, Mother Miranda turned to leave, a swirling mass of dark feathers flying past you.

A minute passes, maybe two, before either of you feel capable of speaking up.

“Let’s get you back where you belong, yes?” Lady Dimitrescu says, quietly, before placing her hand on your shoulder to guide you. Tension hangs clear and heavy over both of you. Even as you walk down corridor after corridor, the feeling does not ease. At least not until you’re back in familiar territory, near where you had originally made your mistake, finally able to breathe a little. It’s here that Lady Dimitrescu pauses to speak once more. “Tomorrow I will assign one of the servants to give you a tour, in the hopes that this does not happen again. Furthermore, I ask that you forget everything you heard earlier, for it is neither your business… or my daughter’s.” You’re quick to nod, and with that she bids you farewell, leaving you alone. Now, you think, was it left from here, or right?

iv.

“I’m just going for a walk. Why do you care so much? It’s not like it’s any of your business,” Daniela assures you, despite the fact that all you had done was say ‘hello’. If this was her attempt at casting aside suspicion, she had done a terrible job of it. What made her so nervous? Was it even worth investigating? Only one way to find out.

“You’re rather bundled up, planning on being out for long?” You ask, trying to sound casual, leaning against the wall as you did. In response, Daniela pretty much stomps her foot. There’s something odd in her expression, however, that implies your question hit a soft spot. Certainly wasn’t what you had expected. “Don’t mind me, just trying to make conversation with my soulmate’s sister. Speaking of her… have you seen Cassandra? Is she, perhaps, going with you?” A little misdirection never hurt anyone. Probably.

“No!” Daniela replies, fast as a gunshot, too much emphasis to be unintentional. But she realizes her mistake as soon as she’s made it, and makes a clear effort to relax herself. “She’s probably in her studio, doing whatever it is she calls art, on the other end of the house. Besides, I don’t want any company for this walk.” For a moment you merely squint at her, unsure of how to proceed. In the end, you decide that it really is none of your business, being more than satisfied by what teasing you’ve already done.

“Alright, alright. Well then, I’ll leave you be. Just… be careful, yeah? If you get hurt, and your mother finds out that I didn’t stop you from going… not sure Cassandra could save me,” you say, with a shrug. At first Daniela can’t decide whether to be upset or relieved, but she seemingly settles for the latter, giving you a brief nod before heading outside. As the door shut behind her, you couldn’t help but wonder if you had done the right thing.

#cassandra x reader #cassandra dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu x reader #lady dimitrescu #resident evil: village #re8 village #yeah I'm back #don't be weird about it

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whumperooni · 3 years

Note

daddy enji/aizawa pulling you over their laps after you’ve acted like a brat all day and spanking you till ur crying 😫

Here ya go, nonny! Sorry it took so long!

Pairing: Aizawa x Daughter!Reader

Tags/Warnings: tw incest, spanking, lingerie tw incestuous thoughts

Word count: 1.2k

✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿

Aizawa has a lot of patience. After years and years of teaching unruly students, it’s something he’s had to garner, grow. Yes, sometimes it snaps, but he generally keeps a good hold on it.

His hold is starting to slip, though.

You’re usually so well behaved, so good for him.

Today, though? Today you’re being a brat.

It started with you waking up in a bad mood. You had been grumpy with him through breakfast, snippy at him whenever he tried to get you to eat more. He had been patient then and had relented, reminded himself that you are an adult and that you don’t have to eat breakfast if you don’t want to.

Your mood worsened through the day, though, and you tried his patience again and again with your constant snaps and sulking.

Getting you to come to this had been like trying to drag a turtle from its shell- you had near thrown a tantrum over something small- your dress? shoes? he couldn’t make it out from you angry tongue lashes- and it had only been the reminder that you were being honored that made you calm down enough to be tugged out of the house.

Now, however, you’re not calm. You’re bratty, moody, sullen- scowling into your champagne and pouting whenever someone tries to talk to you.

It’s perplexing, really. He can’t understand why you’re being such a brat and he can’t understand why you’re being such a bad girl today. You’re usually so sweet and docile, obedient and respectful.

Not today, though- today you’re being a brat.

And Aizawa’s patience has reached its end.

“Kitten, we can leave after you’re honored. Please behave until then.”

A scoff sounds and your eyes narrow even as you look away from him, your glossy lips twist into a scowl.

“I am,” you snap back.

“No, you’re not. You’re being rude to everyone. I know it’s not what you want to do, but there’s a time to suck it up and make nice and this is it. They’re throwing this ceremony for you-”

“Fuck this ceremony.”

Sharp, hissed, searing with an anger Aizawa can’t comprehend- the words have him blinking. Once, twice, three times- Aizawa blinks and he turns his head to you, looks down at your wide eyes and shrinking shoulders, your throat as it moves with a swallow. Your scowl stays and Aizawa blinks once more before snatching your wrist and dragging you away, ignoring your snapped protests and the stares sent his way.

You fight him each and every step, but Aizawa manages to haul you to an empty room and push you inside, close the door and seal your panicked, temperamental self away from the rest of the ceremony.

“Daddy-”

The click of a lock cuts you off and you shoot back from him- back from your father- as he turns toward you and narrows his eyes.

“Daddy, you can’t-”

“Enough.”

Your head jerks back as if you’ve been slapped and Aizawa steps toward you, sets his displeasure on your twitching form.

“You have been nothing but a brat all day long,” he says, slowly- words dripping with disappointed with each step he takes. “I’ve been so patient, kitten, but you’ve been nothing but a spoiled little bitch.”

A wince passes over you and your lips part to retort. Anything you would say, though, dies with a grasp as Aizawa grabs onto your wrist again, pulls you close.

“You’ve been bad, kitten,” he tells you, squeezing your wrist tighter whenever you try to squirm away. “You need to be punished. You need to remember your manners again.”

“Punished?! You can’t-”

A jerk, a few steps to the side, a tug- you’re over his lap before you know it and Aizawa has you pinned down tight, has the skirt over dress clenched in his fist.

“D- Daddy! What are you-”

Aizawa yanks your skirt up above your waist and lands a sharp smack to your ass- makes your soft cheek burn and bounce as his callused, rough hands glides over lace panties and tender flesh. A squeal rips from you and your hips jerk- thighs jiggling with the motion, your garters stretching as you squirm and whine in his grasp.

If he were a lesser man, the sight would have his anger soothing, his cock stirring. The panties, the stockings, the garters, your twitching hips and whining lips- if you weren’t his daughter...

But, you are. You’re his daughter and he’s dealing out your punishment- making you pay for every snip and snap and sneer you’ve made today.

“Ow- Ow! Daddy, please! I’m sorry!”

“Are you?” he huffs, fingers digging into your ass and making you whimper, claw your nails into the seat cushion. “Because I think if you were sorry, you would have stopped being such a brat much earlier on.”

“D- Daddy! I’m sorry! I was just-”

Smack!

A moan this time- something loud, breathy; something that anyone walking outside would hear. He thinks to care about it- he should care about it- but the way a sniffle has your chest heaving and the way your trembling has you brushing over his lap has his focus distracted, has him breathing deep whenever you bump and grind against his cock.

His eyes betray him and Aizawa’s gaze wanders down to your cleft, his gaze zeroes in on the sheer, wet spot dampening lace.

Repulsed. He should be repulsed. He should feel guilty, awkward, shocked.

He should and yet...

Perhaps it's because you're like a stranger to him right now- a disobedient, bratty little bitch that needs a stern daddy to correct your behavior.

A stranger, not his obedient little girl. A stranger, a brat, a whore- hot and squirming, whining and hitching out gasps.

Another sharp spank lands against your ass and you sob from it, arch and whine and drip tears down your cheeks as you try to squirm away. Aizawa’s hand lands on your cheek- fingers curling over the curve and dipping toward your cleft- and you tremble with a whimper, curl up meekly into yourself as his free hand clamps down onto the back of your neck.

“Are you going to behave?” he asks- voice low, fingers tightening into your flesh. “Are you going to be a good little girl and act right? Put on a sweet smile and be polite?”

Another sniffle, another whimper. You nod in a tight, choked motion and Aizawa takes a deep breath, uncurls his fingers and runs his palm over your heated flesh.

“Best behavior, kitten,” Aizawa orders. “Or when we get home I’ll do something much worse. Don’t make me correct your behavior again.”

You twitch in his grasp and panic leaves you in a tight noise, quick and desperate words of, “Y- Yes, daddy! I’m sorry, daddy!”

One last spank and then Aizawa lets you go, lets you scramble off his lap and fix your dress with burning cheeks, swipe away your ruined eyeliner with shaking fingers.

He looks you over, eyes hooded, and he places his hand to the back of your back neck once you’re composed, begins leading you back to the ceremony room. You stay quiet the whole time- head bowed, lips closed, lashed lowered docilely and hiding your still watery eyes.

Aizawa hands you off to some business men and he takes a glass of champagne from a waiter, downs half of it in a hard swallow as he tries to calm his beating heart.

Your father watches you struggle to maintain composure from across the room and he adjusts his cock in his slacks- hard, hungry, mind replaying the image of his hand laying over his daughter’s ass again and again.

#Anonymous #tw incest #rooni's shit #oop sneaky hiatus queued post

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my-unmanageable-mischief · 3 years

Text

Arranged Marriage Part 1

For the Anon who requested : Hey! Can I request something where Draco's parents arrange a marriage for him, and at first he's pissed, but then he meets her and she's pretty and his type and he winds up really enjoying her? Thank you so much!!

Part 2, Part 3

Draco Malfoy x Reader

Draco slammed the door to his bedroom, he was seething. He’d just gotten home from Hogwarts for Christmas holiday when he was bombarded by his mother, who was in the middle of planning their Christmas ball. However, she had other news as well. He was, against his wishes, engaged. He was absolutely livid with his parents, he hadn’t even been consulted. Not to mention the fact that he was only in his sixth year. He was sixteen years old for Merlin’s sake! And on top of it all, he still had his duties to carry out this year, he didn’t need more stress. And that’s all girls were; stress.

Apparently he would be meeting her, and they’d be announcing their engagement at the ball this year, he kicked his desk chair out of frustration and it skidded across the room, toppling over.

“Fuck me,” He muttered to himself, thinking about the few details his mother had given him. Her name was Y/N L/N, a fellow 6th year at Hogwarts in Ravenclaw. Her father worked for the Dark Lord as well, along with his own parents. Pure-blooded and pretty according to his mother. Any girl his mother thought was pretty was probably a troll. He cursed again and tossed himself onto his bed, staring at the ceiling. He tried to rack his brain, thinking of her name, and going through the 6th year Ravenclaw girls he could remember, seeing if he could match a face to the name.

“Y/N,” He spoke and the name sounded foreign on his lips. He could vaguely remember a girl in his potions class that went by that name with Y/Color/Hair. She wasn’t a troll but she wasn’t anything special either. A quiet bird who mostly kept to herself and sat towards the front of the classroom, typical Ravenclaw he scoffed to himself. This was ridiculous. Marriage! What next? Babies?! He hadn’t even graduated yet!

He wound up falling asleep on his bed, above the covers and shoes still on. His nap was plagued with visions of frilly white dresses and senseless dancing. When he woke up it was dark, and his family’s house elf had left him a dinner plate on his nightstand, but he wasn’t hungry. How could he eat at a time like this?

The week passed by agonizingly slow, and he spent most of his time being forced to help get the manor ready for their ball. His mother took him to Diagon Alley to purchase new dress robes. They were nice, black with all black accents. He looked at himself in his bedroom mirror, listening to the music and chatter from below. He was supposed to be downstairs an hour ago but he couldn’t bring himself to leave his room. He looked handsome, he knew, his pale skin and white hair popping elegantly with the all black ensemble. Yet he didn’t want to go downstairs where he knew his new fiance was waiting for him.

His house elf popped into his room and he looked away from the mirror with a glare.

“Missus said it’s time Mister Malfoy made his way downstairs. Guests are waiting.” Draco turned on his heel and walked towards the door taking a deep breath. He wasn’t nervous, Draco Malfoy did not get nervous. He was pissed and put out, still thinking this entire thing was ridiculous. He walked down the grand staircase, seeing his mother at the base, glaring at him.

“You’re late.”

“Sorry, mother.” She nodded her head in response and attempted to fix his collar but he jerked away from her, doing it himself. Suddenly the french doors leading from the ballroom to the foyer swung open and a girl stormed through like a winter storm. She was wearing a brilliant emerald green dress that hugged her curves and went down to the floor, there was some light beading on the bodice but nothing over the top. Her Y/C/H was up in a fancy array of braids and her Y/C/Eyes were red and slightly swollen.

“I’m not getting MARRIED! Are you daft!” She cried, the man following her looked just like her, same eyes, same hair, much different demeanor.

“Watch your tongue!” He bit out, grabbing her wrist and yanking her towards him with a snarl, “Is that any way to talk to your father?” He looked over at Narcissa and Draco and smirked slightly down at his daughter, “Is that any way to speak in front of your future husband?” Her head snapped around to look where he was looking and she openly glared at him. She was pretty, Y/height, and Draco found himself smirking at the display.

“My sincerest apologies,” She gritted out between clenched teeth, “Malfoy,”

“Call me Draco,” He responded easily. Her father released her and she gripped her wrist with her other hand, holding it to her chest. She stood awkwardly between her father and the two present Malfoys. Narcissa cleared her throat and smiled, greeting the man by his first name.

“Why don’t we rejoin the party, I’d love to speak with your wife about wedding arrangements, and Lucius has some business to discuss with you.” He knew his mother wanted to let them be alone, and while he didn’t particularly want to marry the girl, maybe he could score a sneaky snog out of this. The man nodded curtly and took Narcissa’s arm as they went back through the doors, shutting them behind them. The girl continued to just stand there, glaring in Draco’s general direction.

“Did he just tell you?” He asked, trying to start a conversation. You winced slightly and nodded your head.

“Yes. He didn't think I’d come if I knew. He was right.” Draco laughed and you mustered up a half smile.

“My mother told me when I got home for Christmas.”

“Good for you.” you muttered, looking down. When you looked back up again your face was blank, “I don't want to marry you.” You stated bluntly. He sized you up, mildly surprised by your brashness.

“Listen princess, I don’t exactly want to marry you either, but your father seems pretty deadset.”

“And your parents aren’t?” You questioned, raising a delicate eyebrow at him, arms crossing over your chest. He shrugged.

“They are, I assume. Or they wouldn’t be going through all this trouble. We haven’t really talked about it, I’ve just been told the gist. We-” He gestured between the two of you, “Are to be married, don’t know when, don’t know why.”

“Probably at Voldemort’s request.” You replied and he flinched slightly.

“Don’t say his name.” You smirked.

“Why? Afraid he might come swooping in at any moment?” Draco didn’t want to comment on the amount of times the dark lord had been in his house, and he definitely didn’t want to admit that yes, that was his first thought.

“Call him by his title, the dark lord.”

“Are you a death eater?” You asked, curiously. He shook his head no, unconsciously glancing down at his arm where his soon to be mark would reside.

“Not yet.” You nodded then shook your head.

“Better you than I, I’d never be.” You spat the words out. Merlin, who did his parents want him to marry?

“Well you’ll be married to one.” You shrugged.

“Or maybe I’ll just run away.” You mused aloud, glancing around the foyer, eyes lingering on the door. He looked towards the large front door with you and laughed.

“Run away? With what money? Where would you even go?”

“Paris.” You answered easily, “I’ll make money. I’d be fine.”

“They’d hunt you down, Y/N,” He spoke your name for the first time to you and it felt odd coming from his lips, but not bad. You simply shrugged again.

“It would be worth it,” You whispered. They stood in silence for a few more moments. He wanted to say something but he had no idea what he wanted to say. Again, the french doors opened and Lucius stood in the doorway.

“Draco. Come.” He ordered and he felt his feet moving towards his father on their own accord. He stopped next to you, glancing down. “Bring her. This ball is for you. I will not have you two insulting your mother by spending the entirety of it in the corridor. You will dance, eat, and socialize. That’s an order.”

“Yes father.” And with a swish of his cloak the man was gone again, back into the bustling crowd of pure-blooded wizards and their children. Draco offered his arm to you and you took it with a small sigh.

“He’s charming.” He shushed you, not wanting his father to overhear you. Together you entered the ballroom, Draco leading you towards the bar area.

“Can I get you a drink?” He asked and you nodded with a soft hum, “What do you want,”

“I’ll have a Witch’s Heart.” You spoke, keeping your arm linked with his but making sure there was as much distance between your bodies as you could manage. Did you dislike him that much? He ordered your cocktail and a Firewhiskey on the rocks for himself, thanking the bartender when he handed the drinks over. Draco led you over to a table of familiar faces and pulled your chair out for you before sitting beside you, both hands wrapped around his glass.

��Alright, Malfoy?” Blaise Zabini greeted, clasping the man on the back raising his glass towards him and then you, it was obvious he had already had a few. “Congratulations to the happy couple.” Draco laughed, knocking his glass against the other boy’s.

“Thank you, thank you.” He responded, placing his arm loosely around the back of your chair, you leaned away from him slightly and he frowned, shrugging. Pansy Parkinson glared at you openly and venomously from across the table.

“Y/N, right?” She asked, you nodded your head.

“Hello Pansy.” Her glare deepened. She said nothing more to you, crossing her arms over her dress. It was a similar color to yours, Draco noted, not surprised Pansy had opted for a Slytherin green dress. As much as he was proud of his house, sometimes she had too much house pride. It did surprise him however, that you were wearing the color. He had a feeling your parents had something to do with it. Draco and Blaise talked, Pansy occasionally saything something snippy here and there.

“Draco,” She batted her eyelashes at him from across the table, leaning over so her cleavage popped. Slag, you thought to yourself.

“Yes?”

“Care to dance?” Draco looked at you, and you gave a small shrug. You didn’t care what he did. He wasn’t your husband, and would never be if you got your way, which you were beginning to doubt you would.

“No.” He answered simply. Her face fell and you couldn’t help but smirk, she turned her eyes to you and glared darkly.

“Don’t think you’ve got him, Y/N.” She spat.

“Pardon?” You asked bored.

“He’ll never love you, hell, he’ll never even like you.” She hissed and Draco frowned, about to step in when you laughed loudly.

“Doesn’t matter if he does or doesn’t, love. I’m marrying him, not you.” Pansy was livid. She stood up, hand twitching.

“Hag!” She cried.

“Oh Pans,” You replied, falsely sweet, “Don’t talk down on yourself like that, you’re barely even a hag.” Draco thought she might punch you, Blaise laughed, slapping a hand against Draco’s back.

“Feisty! I love it, you’re lucky mate, you should meet the boring bird my parents want me to marry.” Blaise glanced past Draco and sent you a wink, “Unless you care to switch.”

“I’m alright.” Draco smiled slightly, “Go cool down Parkinson.” Pansy was bright red with anger, she looked at Draco, then to you, then to Draco again, her face softening. She turned with a huff and stalked off to go Merlin knows where.

“She’s a delight,” You commented. Blaise laughed again, standing up.

“Can I get you lot another round?”

“Sure,” You smiled, handing him your glass, Draco followed suit. Once they were alone again Draco turned to you, smiling slightly.

“Sorry about her,” You shrugged and shook your head.

“It’s alright, I’ve dealt with worse, I deal with my mother daily.”

“You don’t get on with your parents?” He questioned and she raised her eyebrows.

“Do you?”

“Enough.”

“I don’t, not much. Probably why they’re trying to shove me off on your family.” He chuckled and nodded, arm still around the back of your chair. He was quiet for a moment, making eye contact with someone from across the room. You followed his gaze and saw his father glaring at the two of you, ah, yes. Your new darling father-in-law. Draco withdrew his arm and offered you his hand.

“Care to dance?” He asked, watching as you sighed and frowned before nodding your head.

“Alright, but I have two left feet as a warning.” He chuckled again and nodded his head.

“It’s alright, I’ve got you.” You felt something in your stomach flutter when he looked at you like that and spoke so tenderly, and Draco honestly couldn’t believe the words had come out of his mouth. He watched as you gathered your dress and took his hand allowing him to lead you out to the dance floor. He placed a hand on your waist and took your hand in his other one, and you snaked your free arm around his neck, keeping a comfortable distance. You began to sway to the music, Draco leading you in the traditional dance the rest of the crowd was partaking in.

“How’s your school year going?” He asked suddenly, needing to break the silence.

“Alright I suppose. Can’t believe they’ve got us preparing for NEWTs already.” Draco nodded with a small laugh.

“Don’t worry too much about it, it’s not like it matters.”

“It’s my future,” You replied confused. Draco nodded his head towards the large grand room around them.

“This is your future. You won’t have to work a day in your pretty little life.”

“And if I want to?” You asked him and he faltered slightly. Wasn’t it every woman's dream to be rich enough to sit on her arse all day?

“What would you do?” He asked, genuinely curious as to what could be better.

“I want to be a healer,” You admitted, stepping on his foot, “Sorry, told you, can’t dance.” He adjusted your position and pulled you slightly closer so he could better lead you in the dance, these shoes were expensive.

“Noble.” He commented. You shrugged.

“I’m good at it, and I like it.” You stated simply and he didn’t press the topic. If you wanted to be a healer, he wasn’t going to argue. At least until you had children. Children!? He shook the thought from his head, Merlin, he didn’t even want to meet you a few hours ago and now he was entertaining the thought of having children with you? He must be mad. Or ill. Mad and ill. The song came to an end and he released you, taking your hand again.

“Shall we find our parents? I’m sure they’d like to see us getting along.” He decided.

“Are we?” You asked him, “Getting along?”

“I’d think so, you haven’t hexed me yet.” You chuckled and he found he liked the sound of your laugh.

“The night is young.” He held your hand as you walked towards your parents who were chatting with several other wizards. You passed Pansy as you went and you couldn’t help but to throw her a smug look, knowing she had been watching you two dance. You might not be thrilled to be marrying the bloke, but you couldn’t deny he was handsome, and you seemed to be getting along, at least for now. And if you could rub it into the snotty little girls face, you would. For fun. She glared in return and you chuckled, causing Draco to look at you, then to the direction of Pansy, smirking himself and tugging you slightly closer to him.

“Jealous?” He asked and you snorted.

“You wish,” As you got closer to your parents you took a deep steadying breath, the hand in Draco’s becoming clammy. He squeezed the hand, noticing your sudden nervousness. Together you would face your parents, he decided, he would make sure you were safe. Afterall, that’s what a husband is for.

#Harry Potter #draco Malfoy #draco Malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x ravenclaw!reader #draco malfoy arranged marriage #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy imagine

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datenightfright · 3 years

Text

Infamous

As always, this story is dedicated to the memory of Oiwa, thank you for letting me tell your story, and may you find the peace you deserve.

And, a big thank you to @mlmdarkfiction and @doodleferp who are always willing to lend me their ears and ideas. Without your constant encouragement, this story wouldn't continue.

Previous/Next

Pairing: Kayako Saeki x WOC Reader

Warnings: Mentions of Blood.

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The warmth of the tea seeps into your fingers. The tingling runs up your hands and stops just below your wrists. Detective Tanaka is back in your home, sitting across from you once again. Fujiwara is by his side, ever present notebook in hand, writing furiously. The child you stowed away in the closet sits next to you, his tea untouched, clinging to you as though his life depends on it. “This is...very strange Mrs. Kubo,” Tanaka tells you.

“I’m aware,” Your voice shakes, you’re close to tears. You just killed a man, and the authorities weren’t exactly on your side despite the overwhelming evidence. “There are signs of forceful entry,” Fujiwara states, nose stuck in his stupid little notebook, “and one of the officers found evidence of someone living in the abandoned house next door. It looks as though he stayed there for a few days, weeks even, watching and waiting for the right time to strike.” You wince at the discovery while Tanaka shoots Fujiwara a warning glance.

“Is this going to be a recurring problem?” You ask, trying to keep your shit together. “Mrs. Kubo,” Tanaka begins, gentle, always so gentle in the way he treats you. “You do live in a very infamous house. The legends that surround it...well there are too many to count really. You do realize you and your daughter are an anomaly when it comes to this place, don’t you?” You nod slowly. “We’re the only ones that have lived for this long,” You whisper, your eyes flitting towards a window. Kayako is there, watching you intently.

“Didn’t you notice anything strange?” Fujiwara asks you, “Seeing the same man over and over again, the same car on the street? In the grocery store? Didn’t you feel like someone was watching you this entire time?” Tanka sends another glare to his partner, meanwhile you scoff. “This isn’t a movie Detective,” You spit, “I spend my days just trying to survive, for the sake of my daughter. I’m an American living in the heart of Japan, so everyone is staring at me no matter where I go. So no, I didn’t notice anything strange, I didn’t notice anything different. So sorry to disappoint.”

Fujiwara is going to say something snippy, you can tell, but Tanaka cuts him off. “You must be tired Mrs. Kubo, we’re sorry for all the questions. Once the team is done, we’ll leave.” You nod, thankful someone had a good head on their shoulders. You hear sniffling and look down at the boy next to you. “What about him?” You ask, “What’s going to happen to him?” Everyone stares at the little boy, he only buries himself in you further, trying to shy away from being the center of attention. “A social worker will come to collect him tomorrow.” Tanaka says. “Until then, you must keep him safe.” You nod silently and go back to your tea.

“Why do you keep defending her?” Fujiwara snaps, “This is the second person she’s killed and you’re going to let her get away with it, aren’t you?” Tanaka glares at him, but the young detective is undeterred. “We still don’t know if she killed her husband,” Tanaka points out, “But-”

“And tonight’s case was a case of self defense. He broke into her house, tried to kill her.” Fujiwara scoffs. “A case of a lover’s quarrel gone deadly.” He mutters. Tanaka simply shakes his head. His partner was young, yet. He’d eventually learn that not everything was as it seemed.

The car is tense and silent. Fujiwara is too wrapped up in his own bigotry of foreigners to think straight, Tanaka, well, he had to admit he was wrapped up in his own hero complex to admit Mrs. Kubo might really be guilty. He felt bad for her, she was a new mother, young and pretty. Her famous husband, the source of her income, had been killed by an unknown assailant, leaving her all alone. And tonight, she’d been attacked by some madman that believed in the curse.

Tanaka grips the steering wheel tightly. His resolve to do something about that damnable house is even stronger than before. He’s been keeping a close watch on those that have entered it months ago, but so far, nothing has happened. No mysterious deaths, no unexpected suicides. Everything had been quiet. This just made him more nervous. He has a bad feeling that the house is gearing up from something really terrible.

You find out the hard way that blood does not like coming out of tile, not completely anyway. You throw the sponge into the bucket, growling with frustration. The house is deathly quiet once again. The boy sits on the counter, eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and drinking milk, watching you struggle. You haven’t been able to get one word out of him since last night. You expected as much, though. You simply can’t imagine what hell he’s been through.

You pick up the bucket and dump the blood water in the sink. You fill it up once more, wiping your forehead of sweat. A little nudge on your arm gets your attention. You look towards the boy, he’s handing you a paper towel. “Thank you,” You say, smiling gently at him. You take off your gloves and dab at your forehead. “So,” You say, shutting off the water and filling it with bleach once more. “What should I call you, hm?” You set the bucket on the ground and replace your gloves.

You smile encouragingly up at the kid, hoping he’ll at least say something. He simply finishes his sandwich and watches you scrub the tile. You decide not to pester him. Rather, you begin to hum a lullaby to yourself to fill the silence of your home.

You work at the stain for another thirty minutes or so before deciding you’re done with it. It’s just going to remain a permanent mark on your kitchen floor as long as you’re concerned. You pour the water down the drain once more, then begin to wash the bucket. “Koji,”

“Hm?” You look over to the little boy, smiling. “Koji,” He says again. “Koji? Is that your name?” He nods. “I like that name, very fitting for such a brave boy.” He gives you a small smile, which you return with one of your own and a ruffle of his hair.

The color drains out of his face as he looks wide-eyed and terrified behind you. You whip around to find Kayako and Toshio looking at you. You let out a surprised yelp. Clutching your chest you glare at them both, “Listen, I understand this is your house, but please, can you make noise before you enter a room? I’m tired of all the jump scares.” They simply look at you as you gather the boy in your arms. He wraps around you tightly, too terrified to look at the ghosts.

Before you can say anything else, a knock is heard at the door. “None of your funny business,” You say to both of them. They move out of your way as you walk towards the door. You stop for a moment to check on your sleeping daughter. You see the rise and fall of her chest, then move on. You open the door, blinking in the sunlight.

“Hello!” A cheery girl greets you. She has a badge stuck neatly to her shirt pocket, you read her name easily. “Ms. Fujiwara,” You say, with a smile and a small bow. “No relation to Detective Fujiwara, I suppose?” The girl giggles. “Yes!” She says, “He’s my older brother.”

“Ah,” You say noncommittally. Normally, you would move out of the way and let her in, ask her if she wanted tea, but not everyone that came into your home could be spared from Kayako’s curse, not that you’d ask her to. You think it would be highly unfair of you to ask such a thing of her. As such, both of you stood awkwardly for a few moments, not really knowing what to say.

“Is this the boy?” she finally asks, looking at Koji. You follow her gaze. “Yes,” You say, setting him down with some difficulty, he didn’t seem to want to let you go. He still clings to your legs when you straighten. “My name is Fumiko,” The young girl says, squatting down to his level. “I’ve come to-”

“No!” he says, interrupting her. She blinks in shock, but then smiles gently at him. “It’s ok, you can trust me,” she reaches out to him, “No!” He says louder this time. You hear a faint rumbling in the background. “Koji,” You say, also kneeling. “I know you don’t want to go, but you have to, this nice lady will find your parents.” He shakes his head and throws himself at you. “No! No, no, no!” Your heart breaks as you hug him back. “Koji,” You say, trying not to tear up, “I’m not allowed to keep you.” You have to tell him the truth, as much as it hurt, you didn’t think lying to him would help matters. Besides, kids like Koji could read through an adult’s lies in seconds.

You pull back from him, giving him a sad smile. “Believe me, I would if I could. You’re such a cute and brave little boy, but you have to go with Ms. Fumiko, ok? She’s going to help you.” The boy sniffles. “I’ll come visit.” You find yourself blurting out. “Tomorrow.” You nod. “Ok?” Koji looks at you, and, seeing that you mean to keep your promise, returns the nod. “Here, I’ll help you get your shoes on.” You turn behind you. Kayako hands you his shoes, you smile at her, then help Koji put them on. “Visiting hours are from noon to three.” Fumiko informs you. “This is our card.” You take it from her after straightening. “Thank you,” You mutter tonelessly. Fumiko takes Koji’s hand after he gives you one last hug. “You’ll be ok, Koji,” You call after him, “Just be brave, like you were last night.”

You watch them walk out of your yard, and let a blustering man with an arm full of papers in. He bows to Fumiko, muttering a quick ‘hello’ then waddles up your sidewalk. “Professor Sato?” You walk out to help him with all the papers. “Mrs. Kubo!” He says, huffing. The glasses on his face askew. “I’ve done it!” He says, smiling at you, “I’ve found a way to get rid of Kayako for good!”

You help him straighten all the papers in his arms. “Um, I’m sorry Professor, but, I don’t think I’ll be getting rid of Kayako anytime soon.” You look at him sheepishly as his happy features turn to one of confusion. “Eh? What? Why? You were so adamant the last time-”

“Perhaps we should go to brunch?” You say, “I...I have a lot to tell you.” He nods slowly, “Oh, brunch, yes, ok. I know a place around here. It’s small, but private.” You smile at him. “Let me go get ready, I’ll be right out. Please, don’t enter the house.” He nods, watching after you as you slip into the house. He drops his papers, not noticing Kayako watching him from the window, wary as always.

You watch as Professor Ibuki Sato bounces your baby on his knee, talking about his crazy theories for ghosts and goblins. She’s giggling, happy and engaged. You smile softly at them. This is what you’d hoped Haru would be like. You shake your head, that was the past, this was the present, you had nothing but the future to look forward to. “So, you decided not to get rid of her.” Sato says, You grunt in affirmation. “Because a man broke into your house last night and tried to get rid of her on his own.”

“I can’t explain it,” You tell him, “It’s like the dynamic has shifted or something.”

“Perhaps you have feelings for her too?” Sato teases. You glare at him. You answer him honestly, “I don’t know.”

“Oh wow,” He says, sitting back in his chair, letting Sakura grab at his plate of food, “You must really like her then, if you’re confused about it.” You shrug. “She was so terrified last night,” You tell him, “You could see it in her eyes, her and Toshio both. I...I don’t think I could live through that again.”

Sato studies you for a long moment. “What?” You ask, a little irritated. He shakes his head. “It is possible that you’ve come to care for Kayako in your own way. It may not be love, but perhaps companionship?”

“Perhaps,” You mutter, unsure of anything anymore. Your life has been turned upside down so many times you couldn’t even figure out which way was up. You just wished for some stability. “Are you going to publish your husband’s papers posthumously?” Sato asks out of the blue. “What?” You frown, looking at him. “Your husband’s book. Wasn’t he going to publish one on the house? Are you going to complete it for him? Surely you need the money.” You huff. He has a point, you do need money, or rather, you will need the money, eventually. You have no plans to go back to the states soon, not that you thought Kayako would let you. “I’ve never written anything before.” you told him, “I don’t think I could imitate him.”

“Well, write for yourself,” he suggests. “I’m sure people would love to read what you have to say about the house.” You worry at your lip. For a long time you stare off into space, wondering about what sort of job you could have. “Tell you what,” Sato says, feeding your daughter a noodle. “You can be my assistant.”

“Your what?” You mutter. You didn’t much like the idea of becoming his assistant, but there was little else that was open to you. “Yes,” Sato says, nodding. “My assistant. There’s a lot of research that goes into my job, believe it or not. I could use the help. Someone to read over things for me. It wouldn’t pay much, but I highly doubt your rent is that high to begin with.”

You sit back and look at him, wondering if he’s serious. Deciding that he is, you simply shrug. “I’ll get back to you.” is the only answer you give.

#the grudge #ju-on #kayako saeki #kayako imagine #kayako x reader #infamous

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yungidreamer · 4 years

Text

Moving Day

Moving in together is just the start of making a life together...

word count 9.3k

Pairing: Yunho, Mingi, unnamed fem character, established poly relationship

Content warnings: brief mentions of semi public sexual contact, making out, oral sex (m/m and m/f), descriptions of sexual frustration, loss of virginity, protected sex, cuddly aftercare, lots of confessions of love and just general lovey dovey stuff.

“Honey, where are these boxes supposed to go?” Her father asked, carrying a large cardboard box marked Bedroom on the side.

“Uhhhh, my room is the second door on the right after the bathroom.” She answered, poking her head out of the kitchen. She had been the first one to arrive on move-in day at the new place she was renting with Yunho and Mingi near the university they had all gotten into together as they had promised when they started applying.

“This one?” Her father shouted down the hall. “It's huge. Why are you getting this one?”

“What do you mean?” She asked, coming down the hall to join him in the room.

“I don’t know…” He shifted uncomfortably. “Why not put both of the boys in here and make one of the others into an office or a study or something?”

“Uh well,” she began. “I won the paper, scissors, rock competition and, yeah, I think everyone wants their own room. You know...in case they want to bring over...a friend…”

“Okay, okay, nevermind, I never asked,” her father threw up his hands, wanting to completely avoid such a topic, as she had suspected he would. In truth, the arrangement she and her two boys had come to was a little bit more complicated. Yes, everyone had their own room, a place to keep their stuff, a place to get away and be alone, but her room was ‘their room.’ It was a place for movie nights, cuddling, and hopefully, now that they would be away from prying eyes and parental observation in general, maybe something more.

They had known each other now for a little more than a year. A little more than a year since they met at summer camp and started down their journey to being best friends and a little bit more. That week had been magical, but the year since had been even better. As hard as it was finding as much time as she had wanted to spend with them between a part time job, school, and getting into college with them, the stolen moments they had shared had only brought them closer. Every holiday they found time to get together, exchange gifts, and talk about what was happening in their lives.

They had decided to only apply to colleges that they could all go to together and promised to only go to one that they all were admitted into. Thankfully, in part due to their hard work and dedicated studying for finals and national exams, they had all gotten into the top school they had wanted. Their parents were all proud, even if they didn’t quite know what to make of this little clique their children seemed to have suddenly formed over a week away at summer camp.

Now they were all moving in together to a house they had found for rent not far from campus. Her father had tried to say no. He didn’t want his daughter moving in with two boys. She had spent a month arguing with him and giving her best persuasive arguments for the lower cost than dorms, the safety of the neighborhood, and pointing out how she would be less likely to end up at some rowdy parties living with them rather than some unknown strangers in an on campus dorm. He had given up eventually, once her mother had ganged up on him with her, kindly pointing out the archaic and sexist idea that the lovely boys, her sweet and smart friends, were just predators looking to pounce on anything with boobs.

Though he still grumbled now and again, here he was, moving boxes into a house she was going to share with her friends. Really, he liked them. They were good kids, it was just...he didn’t get it. They both looked at his daughter in a way that reminded him of how he looked at his wife, who had been his high school sweetheart. When he had first met them, he was sure, sure, that Yunho boy was trying to get in and date his daughter. Then he had been sure it was Mingi. But nothing ever came of it, no matter how many times he asked if she was dating someone.

No daddy, I’m not dating one of them, she always demurred, you know I adore both of them and could never choose. After a year, it seemed like she was being honest. They were almost always together, all three of them. They did everything together. They studied together, they hung out together, they celebrated together, and now they were going to school together. At least they were as good of influences as he could have wanted.

Before too long, the boys and their families came and the house was bustling with activity as everyone tried to get everything in the house and unpacked before all the parents all had to drive the two hours back home. Yunho’s mother concentrated on the kitchen, worried that, if she didn’t make sure that they had all the dishes, all the pans, and all the appliances they could possibly need unpacked, her precious baby would starve. Admittedly, over the last year her son had grown three inches and become a bottomless pit when it came to food. He was growing still and everything that he put in his mouth just seemed to be going into the width of his shoulders and his height.

Mingi’s parents focused on his things and his room, grumbling just a bit that he hadn’t gotten the largest room no matter how many times his son rolled his eyes and told him that he liked his room and didn’t mind sharing a bathroom with Yunho and letting her have the master bedroom and her own bathroom. He understood the bathroom, he would say every time, but maybe if they offered to pay a little more of the rent, the big room could be his.

“Dad, seriously,” Mingi grumbled, putting the last of his clothes into the drawers. “It’s fine for her to have it. Yunho and I have the consoles in the living room and she can have a little extra space to get some quiet.” His father grumbled, but let it go, finishing the last of their unpacking in no time. With everyone satisfied, and pizzas ordered for the new college students on the credit card of Mingi’s father, all the parents said their goodbyes, promising to visit in a few weeks, and piled into their cars for the trip home. They stood in the yard, waving them off, a little sad, but mostly relieved to finally see them go.

When the taillights of the last car disappeared around the corner the trio dashed inside their new house and closed the door. A thrill went through them at the knowledge they finally had the privacy to be themselves. The moment that Yunho closed the front door behind him, he grabbed Mingi, trapping him between his body and the door and pressed his lips to the other boy’s, pressing him into a hungry kiss he had been wanting to give him all day.

Mingi was surprised by the bold move, but quickly caught on, kissing him back hungrily as his hands moved to hold Yunho around his ribs. Yunho pulled back after a moment, disconnecting his lips but pressing his forehead to Mingi’s as he caught his breath. “I’ve been wanting to do that half the day. Wanted to rub it in your father’s face. His stupid snippy comments every five minutes, about everything. How did you do it all these years?”

“You get used to it eventually,” Mingi shrugged, running his hand along Yunho’s waist, pulling his hips against him. “I barely hear it anymore to be honest. God, can you imagine his face if he ever saw you kiss me?”

“I don’t know if he would die or try to kill one of you,” She said from across the room, where she had flopped tiredly on the couch. “But I am pretty sure someone will be bleeding when he finally figures it out.”

“I don’t know if it scares me or makes me happy that you think we’ll last long enough he’ll have to figure it out at some point,” Mingi gave a nervous laugh. Over the last year there had been a couple of close calls with their parents when they hadn’t been careful enough. Once when Yunho’s mom had come home from work early to find the two boys cuddling on the couch while they waited for her to come over after school. Mingi had immediately rolled off and they had played it off as roughhousing together, hoping that they were hiding the blushes and slight arousal they were both experiencing just as the result of wrestling. Just be careful, his mother had said, don’t hurt each other. I don’t know why boys have to be so rough with each other. She had sighed as she left the room, shaking her head. They had been more careful after that. They almost never went to Mingi’s house given his dad’s general attitude. Her house was alright, but her father had an annoying habit of dropping in to check on them a lot. But finally, finally, they had a place they could be themselves.

“Come here,” she invited, patting the couch next to her. “I want to see my boys for real.” They both bounded over, eager to see her and touch her without the fear of eyes on them. Yunho flopped into the seat next to her and Mingi literally crawled onto her lap, looming over her small frame as he took her face in his hands, holding it as he drew her into a deep and passionate kiss.

“Fuck, you taste good,” he groaned against her mouth. “It feels like it's been forever since I could kiss you.”

“I think it’s been more than a month,” she decided, taking half a second to think when the last time she had been able to get out with them.

“Why did your family have to take that vacation?” He pouted, touching her like his hands had been hungering for the feel of her.

“Because I was moving away for college,” she laughed. “My mom acted a little like I was going to basically disappear when I moved out. She wanted us to have some quality family time. But my dad spent a quarter of the time grumbling about me moving in with you two and my brother wished he was anywhere but with all of us uncool people. But no, it was fun and I am glad I got to spend some time with them, even if I missed you both.”

“I missed you, too,” Yunho said, turning in his seat to face her with his iconic shy smile. It always made a little knot in her stomach whenever she saw it. He was so beautiful when he smiled. It was like it lit him up from the inside.

“C’meer,” she reached for him, asking him to come over without making Mingi move off her lap. Yunho leaned in and gave her a slow, patient kiss, showing that he had missed her too, just in a different way.

“When is the pizza going to be here,” Yunho asked, hoping someone had been listening when Mingi’s father had said he had ordered it for them so they wouldn’t have to cook tonight.

“Can’t be long now,” she said, looking at her phone. “He must have ordered it about half an hour ago and it was from that ‘under an hour or its free’ chain. You that hungry?”

“No,” Yunho answered. “Well, I mean, I am hungry, but someone has to answer the door when it comes so I can’t do what I want to spend my evening doing until it comes.”

“You have plans?” Mingi teased, his hand reaching out to caress the other boy’s cheek as he teased him.

“Like you haven’t spent the last month thinking about what you wanted to do on the first night you had alone with us,” Yunho laughed.

“I did but you already heard about it every time we went for a drive to kill time this summer,” Mingi admitted, feeling a little like he should apologize for the hours the other boy had had to listen to him fantasize out loud while they waited for her to call.

“Is that what you guys were always doing when I would call?” She let out a cackle at herself for never putting it together. “I wondered why I never had to call you both on any of the nights. Where did you go while you waited for me to call and say good night?”

“Different places,” Yunho shrugged. “We went to the Sonic near the hospital a couple of times, got something to eat and just listened to the radio while we waited. A few times we just parked somewhere at a beach. More than once we were still just driving while we talked to you.”

“My poor boys,” she sighed sympathetically. The car was the only place they could find privacy to talk. To her, to each other.

At some point during the third week of her being gone, they had pulled over in a deserted parking lot near the shore of one of the lakes to wait for her to call. The summer sunset had been beautiful and they had ended up in a full make out session, in part because Mingi couldn’t keep his hands to himself most evenings. As soon as the car door was closed and Yunho was pulling away from Mingi’s parents’ place, he would feel a hand creep up along his thigh until he dropped one hand off the steering wheel to interlace his fingers with the other boy. He wasn’t even sure Mingi realized he was doing it at some point, he just needed the comfort of something solid to assure him Yunho was really there.

That evening was the second time they had given in to the desperate tension that had been building over the summer with too much time and not enough to occupy themselves. In the almost year they had been together, they hadn’t really gone much beyond kissing. In part because they had no safe place to go further, in part because with all the obligations of their senior year, finding time to even meet up had become increasingly hard. But this summer, with money from part time jobs and the freedom of near independence, they had the time and the means and spent all the time they could manage, out of their houses and in each other’s company.

Hidden from view from most passers by, the boys had moved to the big back seat of Yunho’s old classic car so they could sit together and kill the hour they were probably going to be waiting for her to call. It had started innocently enough with Mingi leaning in for just one more light kiss. He couldn’t help it. He had been listening to what Yunho said, he really had, then suddenly he noticed how lovely Yunho’s lips looked when he talked. Those perfect Cupid’s bows moving so pleasantly as the words he no longer really heard spilled out. His lips met the other boy’s, eating the last of the words. He still tasted a little like the cherry Slurpee they had gotten at the start of the evening. He was so delicious.

Shifting in his seat, Mingi had ended up half facing Yunho with one hand holding his head and the other desperately fumbing at the other boy’s waistband to get inside and touch him. Yunho had given in, helping him undo his jean shorts before pulling Mingi’s basketball shorts down enough to give him the access he needed to fondle him back. It hadn’t taken long for both of them cum, letting go of some of the tension they were both carrying all the time these days.

They cleaned up, making sure they weren’t leaving any evidence of their activities in the car for a parent to find. The car smelled like sex and the dampness of the nature that lined the shore as Mingi leaned back to rest his head against Yunho’s chest as he lounged between his leg.

“Do...do you think we’ll have to take turns?” Mingi asked quietly, playing with the finger on one of Yunho’s hands.

“Take turns?” He asked the other boy, completely lost as to what he was talking about.

“When we live together,” Mingi started, letting out a sigh. “Do you think we’ll have to take turns being with our girl or...like can we really do it together, all three of us?”

“Okay, I know you watch porn,” Yunho snickered. “I am sure you know it is totally possible for two guys and a girl to do things together.”

“I’m not stupid,” Mingi protested, dropping both of his hands into his lap. “But like, do you really see yourself fucking our girl like they do in ‘Gang Bang Boys 5’?”

“Point taken,” Yunho admitted, resting his chin on the top of Mingi’s head.

“Besides,” Mingi fidgeted again. “I don’t think she’s slept with anyone before. What if it hurts or what if we do something wrong? Do you really think she’ll want to be with two people the first time?”

“I don’t know, love,” he admitted, slightly ashamed that none of this had occurred to him. Leave it to Mingi to have clearly fantasized himself into a little bit of a panic.

“If she lets us choose, can you go first?” Mingi mumbled the question in the quiet of the car.

“You want me to do the deed, huh?” Yunho teased, hugging him to his chest.

“I’m not always that careful when I...what if I hurt her?” He finished with a sigh.

“You won’t, not any more than I would,” Yunho assured him. “We’ll do whatever works. We don’t even know if she’s ready to be with us like that. Maybe it will just be the two of us sneaking off to jerk each other off so we don’t bother her.”

“It’s okay if she’s not ready,” Mingi agreed. “But I don’t want to be sneaking around. Do you think she would be disappointed in us for doing this without her?”

“No,” Yunho scolded.

“You sure?” Mingi asked.

“You want to confess when she calls, ask if she’s okay with it?” Yunho offered.

“Maybe,” Mingi admitted, not sure if he felt like an idiot for needing to do it or not.

When she called that night, Mingi blurted out what they had done when she asked how they were doing. She met the confession with a laugh and asked if making out in the back of a car was as fun and iconic as the movies always made it look. The teasing assured Mingi that she wasn’t upset they had done something without her and let Yunho segue into the topic of room sharing to see if they really were all on the same page. They had talked about her room being the shared room they would all stay in together but hadn’t actually talked about whether they were really ready to be together in that way.

“We have our own rooms, too,” Yunho pointed out. “We can stay there for a while and see when things feel right.”

“Do you want to wait?” She asked after a pause.

“I would gladly drive us the three hundred miles to wherever you are right now to answer that question by making love to you tonight,” Yunho answered, only slightly hyperbolically.

“The only thing that has made the bickering between my dad and my little brother bearable for the past three weeks has been thinking about how each day, I am that much closer to going to bed every night in your arms.” She told them earnestly.

“You know that doesn’t mean we have to do everything right away, though, right?” Yunho pressed.

“I’m not saying you have to throw me against the wall the first chance you get,” She gave them a low chuckle. “But I started birth control a month and a half ago and you two aren’t the only ones who have been suffering from this stupid tension. God I wish I was in the backseat with you two right now.”

“We wish you were here too,” Mingi finally piped up, sending the phone a longing look.

“Okay I have to go,” she told them. “I’ll call you again tomorrow, okay? And take care of each other for me...however you want. Bye.”

A knock sounded at the door and Yunho sent a prayer of thanks to whatever it was in the universe that loved him just a little as he hopped up to accept the pizzas that had thankfully already arrived. He accepted the three large boxes of pizza and thanked the delivery person, passing them the fiver he happened to have on him and closed the door. He set them down on the coffee table and walked over to the end of the couch where Mingi was still smothering her with affection and knelt down on the couch beside them.

“I’m not that hungry right now,” Yunho told them both. “It feels like I have been waiting to be alone with you two. Can we…”

“Spend a little quality time in our room? See where we end up?” she finished for him. Yunho nodded and Mingi slid himself off the couch, eagerly skipping down the hall. Yunho drew her into his arms and honeymoon carried her into the bedroom, playfully tossing her into the middle of the bed.

Pulling herself up, she knelt on the bed and patted either side, inviting the boys to join her on either side. Mingi crawled into the bed and wrapped his arms around her waist.

“Yunho, can you do me a favor and bring that box to me?” She pointed to a plain white box that had been left unpacked in the corner. He placed the box near her and stretched out on the open side of the bed. She muttered to herself as she opened the top and rustled around in the box, obviously looking for something.

“You have no idea how many times I had to hide this box today to stop mom and dad from trying to unpack it,” she let out a nervous laugh. “Ah-ha!” She cleared her throat, pulling out what she had been looking for in the box. It was a headband with a large white bow attached to the center of it. Placing it on her head, she dove back into the box. Yunho bit his lip to keep from bursting out laughing. She was making herself their present.

“I don’t know what to take out,” she sighed, giving the box a hard quizzical look. “Okay this--” she plopped a tube of something onto the bed. “These...I got two different sizes…” she tossed a couple of small boxes down next to it. “Maybe this one too...it's flavored…” she pulled out a smaller tube and, with a last sift through the box, she closed the top and moved it to the foot of the bed. “Please close your eyes.”

Both boys looked at each other and gave little shrugs. Mingi let her go and stretched out on his side of the bed, closing his eyes as requested. Yunho did the same, also putting his arm over his eyes to prevent himself from peeking. They felt the bed move and heard the rustling of clothes and the sound of the box being lifted. Her weight briefly moved off the bed before coming back to where she started.

“Alright, you can open your eyes,” she declared. The bow was still placed nicely on her head but nothing else she had on was the same. She was kneeling in the center of the bed, stripped down to a sheer white mesh balconette and panty set, decorated with colorful embroidered flowers. She looked beautiful...and a little nervous. Mingi couldn’t help but stare, his eyes sticking on the sight of the pretty pink nipples he could just make out through the fabric. Yunho’s eyes skated over every surface and curve, trying to take it all in. The silence stretched and she couldn’t help but feel the nervous energy in her swell as she waited for one of them to say something.

“You look so pretty,” Mingi breathed, sitting up. “All this, is this just for us?”

“I’ve been thinking about tonight for a while and I wanted everything to be perfect,” she explained. “Tonight I get to be with the two people I love the most. I want to give you my everything. Welcome home.”

Mingi pulled her into his lap, tucking his head against her shoulder as he held her near. “We have a home.” His voice was grateful and contented. Yunho’s heart skipped a beat in his chest. He so loved to see them both looking so happy. His eyes flicked to the things she had pulled out of the box, still lying on the bed. Water based lube, pineapple flavored lube, and two boxes of condoms. He smiled at himself as he moved them off the bed and onto the bedside table to get them out of the way but keep them within reach. His hands went to the hem of his shirt, starting to pull it over his head when he heard her soft, wait. He half turned in his seat on the edge of the bed to find her crawling up behind him.

“Stand up for me,” She instructed, giving his neck a quick kiss. Yunho stood up beside the bed, turning to face her and the bed, keen to know what she had in mind. “I want to unwrap you,” she gave him a teasing grin. Her hands went to the hem of his black t-shirt. It was an old favorite of his, worn enough to be as soft as flannel and a little more grey than black. She slid it off over his head and tossed it near the foot of the bed. Taking a moment, she admired his bare chest, decorated only by the short but thick silver chain and pendant. It was solid and lean, covered in gorgeous light brown skin. She loved the shade of it, just the right shade, somewhere between light toast and milk tea. His skin always made her hungry, both of them did, and maybe that is why food always came to mind when she thought to describe them.

Her hands trailed down his chest and ribs, exploring his body slightly as her hands moved to the waist of his black jeans. He had worn his favorite e-boy look today, complete with studded belt and wallet chain. Her hands undid his belt and popped the button before carefully pushing the jeans and his underwear down his hips and past the curve of his lovely ass so they could drop and he could step out of them. It was the first time she had gotten to see him in all his glory and it was...beautiful. From the breadth of his shoulders which had filled out over the last year, to the soft ripple of muscles in his chest and stomach, to his narrow hips and thick muscular thighs, it was all so much better than she had imagined. And he was...big. All she could think was, thank goodness she got the magnums. Yunho noticed her stare and put his hands in front of himself, a pink spread over his cheeks and the tips of his ears. Her gaze lifted to his face again and she pulled it to her so she could give him a kiss.

“Sorry, I was staring,” she said after the kiss. “You’re just so tempting.”

“No,” He shook his head. “I just, I can’t tell what you’re thinking.”

“Come lie down,” she moved back to give him space and he crawled into the bed. “Mingi, baby, can I…” The other boy looked a little startled to have the attention on him again but nodded, scooting off the side of the bed and waited. “Do you want to help me?” She directed the question to Yunho who eagerly nodded at the invitation. Her hands went to Mingi’s face, pulling it to her for a kiss. He looked nervous but excited, just not sure what it was he was supposed to be doing.

“Me next?” Yunho gave him a big grin as mingi pulled back from his kiss with her. Mingi nodded and angled himself to meet the lips of the nude boy who was kneeling beside her. Their kiss turned hungry and Yunho hooked his fingers in the belt loops of the other boy, bringing his hips forward to press against his own. As she watched their lips clash, she felt a thrill of anticipation. They pulled apart panting and the moment had only added to the obvious and growing arousal Yunho was sporting.

She reached for the hem of his shirt to pull it over his head while Yunho unbuttoned and lowered his jeans. She tossed the shirt away and let Mingi step out of his jeans. Yunho pulled at Mingi, urging him onto the bed with him.

“Do you still want me to go first?” Yunho squeezed the other boy’s hand. Mingi nodded sheepishly.

“You talked about this?” she suppressed a laugh, but couldn’t stop herself from letting out a choked giggle.

“Just...since it is your first time, too,” Yunho explained. “We wanted to be careful, to make sure that it's good for you.”

“Thank you for worrying,” She soothed, reaching out to both of them. “I know that my boys are going to take care of me so well. Come and lay with me, please.” Mingi crawled to her and pulled her back to lay against the mound of pillows piled against the headboard. He kissed her cheek, taking the bow off her head as he did, he wrapped an arm around her waist. Yunho came up beside her and slipped a finger into the waistband of her panties.

“Can I take these off?” He asked, pulling at them lightly. She nodded and lifted her hips to allow him to slide them off.

Mingi’s hand moved to the mound of her breast and gave it a testing squeeze. Her pink nipple showed through the sheer fabric and his mouth watered to taste it. “I want to see you...all of you.” His hand played with the strap of the bra and she sat up to unhook the bra and slip it off herself. Mingi reached up and stilled her hand, unhooking it himself and sliding the straps down her arms.

She laid back down again, her hands moving to cover herself automatically. Yunho’s hands moved to cover hers, drawing them off her to let them see her. “No love, we’ve been waiting so long, let us see you.”

“You’re so beautiful,” Mingi fawned, his hand traveling down along the plane of her stomach to the curve of her hips. His fingers paused over a small mole on one side of her stomach, wanting to commit the detail to his memory. He leaned over, taking her lips in a timid kiss as his fingers splayed over her stomach, exploring her body through touch. He broke the kiss, letting his lips move lower to nibble at the line of her collarbone. Slowly he moved lower, tasting his way to her nipple which he teased with a soft flick of his tongue. The soft intake of breath, half gasp, half moan, emboldened him and he opened his mouth, suckling the soft flesh.

“Mingi, yes, that feels good,” she encouraged, her hand resting on his shoulder. His large hand gripped her rib cage, feeling the speed of her breathing increase. Yunho felt himself grow harder as he watched patiently. He wanted Mingi to explore her without self consciousness. Over the month she had been gone he had talked a hundred times about things he wanted to do, ways he wanted to touch her, fantasies about the pleasure he wanted to bring her. Mingi wanted this moment with both of them. He wanted to let go of the frustration of having to hide his affections, his closeness to the people he loved. Finally, he could touch them without fear of judging eyes and in more than just stolen moments.

Mingi pulled back, his eyes wandering over her body again. “Can...can I touch you?”

“You already are,” she teased. “But if you are asking for permission, you can touch me anywhere.” Mingi blushed and moved further down, looking up at the other boy for his permission as well. Yunho nodded, reclining along her on the other side. He watched as Mingi’s fingers traveled along the line where her stomach and legs met, following it towards the junction of her thighs. His light, testing touch sent a shiver through her.

“Good?” He questioned.

“Yeah, good,” she nodded, her hands reaching to touch both of the boys to ground herself. Her nerves danced with a nearly painful anticipation. Mingi slipped his hand between her thighs, gently parting them as he moved to be level with her pussy. He laid down between her spread thighs, kissing up along the smooth skin of one side he moved closer, but stopped just short of touching her there. He ran one finger along the slit.

“You’re already getting wet,” he commented, using her thighs to draw her closer.

“Is our girl ready already?” Yunho asked him, running a hand over her stomach, feeling it twitch as the other boy touched her.

“Not yet,” Mingi ran the tip of his tongue along the slit. She gasped at the sensation, curling her hips up and away from him involuntarily.

“Hold her hips,” Yunho suggested, sliding an arm under the pillow under her head as he held her closer. Mingi nodded, hooking both arms under her hips to hold her still. He repeated the teasing motion of his tongue drawing a strangled moan from her again.

“Say if it’s not good or if it’s too much,” Yunho murmured into her hair as he held her, feeling her nod in reply. His arm wrapped her torso, holding her as close as he could without getting in the way of what Mingi was doing for her. She moaned as Mingi’s mouth explored her more fully. “Does he make you feel good?” He whispered as he heard her breath catch. “Tell him how good he makes you feel, babe.”

“So g-good,” she keened. “Fuck, Mingi, please. Don’t stop. It feels so good.” The sounds coming from between her legs filled the room alongside her pants and broken gasps has he hit a particularly good spot.

“Are you close?” Yunho soothed her, stroking her hair softly.

“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “I haven’t really… when I did it by myself it didn’t feel like this.” He could feel her tensing, her hands gripping the sheets beneath them.

“Relax, love,” Yunho kissed her temple just as Mingi slid his tongue inside her, his nose brushing against her sensitive clit. She jumped under their collective touch, the sensations feeling overwhelming. From his spot between her legs, Mingi watched them both as he licked and tasted her. Her face was a mask of pleasure as Yunho held her, softly talking her through the pleasure. He felt a surge of confidence. He made her feel that; he gave her that pleasure. As painfully hard as he was, nothing could have made him feel better than seeing her break under the touch of his tongue. Her body moved against him and he tested sucking the small bud with the suction of his soft lips locked around it. Her toes curled and her thighs gripped his head and suddenly she let out a choked yelp. He continued to suck it for another second before flicking it with the tip of his tongue as she squirmed under him.

“Wait, wait,” She whimpered finally and Mingi pulled back, seeing a tear escape the corner of her eye.

“Was that bad? Too much?” He came to his knees between her thighs, drawing in a little on himself.

“No baby, it was so good,” she reached for him as the overwhelming sensation faded to a warmth that filled her body. “Please, I need to touch you.” Mingi crawled up beside her, holding her as she came down from her high.

When her breathing had returned to normal they both loosened the grip of their arms around her and looked at the peaceful expression that had taken the place of the intense look that had been there a moment ago.

“Was that enough for today?” Yunho asked, propping himself up on his elbow as he brushed some hair from her face.

“I don’t want to stop,” she shook her head. “I want someone inside me.”

“Okay,” Yunho nodded, giving her a kiss. He rolled to the side and reached for the bedside table where he had put the lube and the condoms earlier. Sitting up on the side of the bed he opened one of the packages, ribbed for her pleasure, and ripped open one of the little foil packets.

“Can I try putting it on you?” She asked from behind him, having pulled herself up onto her elbows.

“Sure,” he nodded and handed her the opened packet.

“Can you lie down for me,” she prompted, scooting closer to Mingi to leave more room for him. He stretched out on the bed on his back, carefully watching as she pulled out the small rolled bit of latex. “Okay...pinch the tip and roll it down.” She said to herself as she positioned it on the head of his penis. Yunho bit his lip to keep from moaning at the sensation of her rolling it all the way down his length. His eyes widened as she moved to straddle his hips.

“Hold one one second,” he stopped her and reached for the bottle of lube on the table. Clicking open the top and squeezing some of the gel-like liquid onto his hand, he spread it on his length and wiped the last of it onto her. Tossing it aside, he helped her guide his length to her entrance.

“Let’s go slow,” Yunho’s voice was tight. “We aren’t in a hurry. Here, put your hands up here by my shoulders.”

“Okay,” she leaned forward and let his hands guide her down. The head slid into her easily and she let herself move lower on him until a slight stinging made her hips stutter.

“You okay?” He asked, unclenching his jaw and letting his head drop back to the pillows as he looked up to her face.

“Yeah, it just feels...weird,” she let herself sink down a little more, then waited for the burning to subside, joking, “There is a lot of you.”

“Sorry, love,” he gave a breathy chuckle. “I can’t really change that.”

“I know,” She scrunched up her face as she moved down a bit more.

“How are you feeling?” Yunho’s thumbs stroked the soft skin of her stomach and hips as he held himself still.

“I’m good.” She exhaled before joking, “Is that all of you?”

He looked down to where their bodies met before nodding. Turning his head, he looked at Mingi who was laying on his back on his side of the bed. He ran one hand lightly over his length as he stared at the pair beside him, his eyes drawn magnetically to where they were connected.

“Mingi,” Yunho breathed, one hand going to reach for him. “Can you help our girl move?”

“How?” Mingi asked, sitting up. “What can I do?”

“Get behind her, I think,” He replied, trying not to move. “Hold her and guide her hips when she is ready to move. And touch her, make sure our girl cums again.”

Mingi nodded, fitting his long body against her back, his thighs cradling her from behind. One long arm reached down to hold himself up and the other engulfed her, holding her to his chest. He kissed her temple, his eyes meeting Yunho as he did. “You’re doing so good,” He told them both. “You ready to move?”

She nodded, lifting her hips experimentally. Stopping half way, she slowly let herself sink down again, sighing at the pleasant sensation. Mingi’s hand moved down to feel where her body enveloped Yunho, using two fingers to frame his cock, feeling it move in and out as they rocked in unison. Together they slid almost to the tip, sinking down with a collective groan.

“Touch her for me,” Yunho panted. “I’m not going to last very long. She feels so good. God, I knew she would...but it’s even better than I had imagined.”

“You want to feel her squeeze your cock?” Mingi teased, his fingers going to brush her clit as they continued to move.

“Yes,” Yunho confessed, his hands gripping Mingi’s thighs. “I want to cum inside her. I want to make her ours forever. Make her feel so good, no one else could ever compare.”

“You want to make her feel how much you love her,” Mingi tempted.

“God yes,” Yunho admitted, arching slightly off the bed.

“Then move,” Mingi commanded. “I’ve got our girl. Show her how you want her.” Mingi leaned them both forward so that Yunho could move enough to buck his hips up. His hips snapped up, drawing a gasp from her. Her thighs quivered as the boys worked together to pleasure her. Yunho’s eyes went to her face, searching it for any sign of pain or discomfort. Finding none, he let go of the last ounce of control he had been clinging to. He could feel Mingi’s fingers work between them, sending waves of pleasure through her that made her twitch around him.

Just when he thought he wouldn’t last long enough, he felt her crumble. Her walls fluttered then milked him as she let out a breathy keen, half collapsing on him. He thanked the universe and stopped his struggle to last. With a few last stuttering thrusts, he emptied himself into her, with only the thin layer of the condom between them.

Mingi watched the look of bliss bloom on Yunho’s face and kissed the damp temple of the girl between them. He was still painfully hard but he was quite sure that the surge of satisfaction he felt at that moment could not be topped. He pulled her limp body up to lean against him as he held her, murmuring comforting words of encouragement and love.

“Do you want to lie down?” Mingi asked, petting her cheek softly. She nodded, allowing him to lift her off Yunho and lay her down on the bed beside him. Mingi continued holding her, one hand stroking down her side as he praised her, told her she was so beautiful and wonderful. She relaxed into his arms and let her eyes close.

Beside them, Yunho let his breathing return to normal before sitting up to slide the messy condom off his softening length. He blushed at the sight of the pink streaks that were present, glancing over at her relaxed form and wondering if she really was alright. He tossed the condom away in the trash before padding back to the bed. Mingi looked so sweet curled around her, but Yunho couldn’t help but notice his straining erection pressed against her hip. His mouth watered at the sight.

Those couple of stolen moments they had shared in the car that summer had left Yunho with a desire to taste the beautiful length he had caught brief glances of as they chased their pleasure in the backseat of the car, always with one eye out to make sure they weren’t caught by someone.

She lay between them nearly asleep, barely noticing when Yunho pulled her closer to his side, tucking her up into the pillows with a kiss to her forehead.

“On your back, love,” He ordered lowly to Mingi. The other boy acquiesced, rolling over, carefully drawing his arm out from under her so that he wouldn’t disturb her. Yunho crawled over to the other side of the bed and began kissing his way up the other boys legs as he looked hungrily up the planes of his body. Mingi held his breath watching Yunho devour him with his eyes. His cock twitched against his stomach as the other boy neared it, placing kisses along the v where his thighs and stomach met.

“Wha...what are you doing?” Mingi asked as Yunho parted his thighs to recline between them.

“I’m going to taste you,” Yunho explained with a playful smile on his Cupid’s bow lips.

“You don’t have to,” Mingi gave him a shy look, still a little afraid deep down that the other boy didn’t really love him, not like that at least.

“I want to,” Yunho assured him. “I’ve wanted to feel you in my mouth since that first night in the back seat.”

“Really?” Mingi’s voice was flavored with a hint of disbelief.

“Didn’t you ever think of it?” Yunho ran his fingers lightly over the underside, drawing a sharp intake of breath from him.

“Yeah but, I didn’t think you’d want…” Mingi blushed, trailing off.

“You didn’t think I wanted you?” Yunho chastened. “Then what did you think?”

“I don’t know,” He mumbled, looking away. “I was there and, I guess…I guess I’m better than nothing.”

“Better than nothing?” Yunho repeated in disbelief. “I love you, Mingi. I love you and your laugh and your smile. I love how you make me feel so happy when you are there. I love your kisses and I love your hands on me. I love your body and your face. I want you, I want all of this with you.

“This summer was hard because she was gone,” He continued. “But it wasn’t hard because she was gone, it was hard because we all weren’t together. It would have been the same if you had been missing or, I hope, if I had been. What we have isn’t bad or wrong or second best. It's part of something bigger that fills a little hole in my heart I didn’t know was there until I met you two.”

“Really?” Mingi said a second time, wanting more than anything to believe him.

“Can I taste you?” He asked this time. “Can I show you that I want you, too?”

“Yeah,” Mingi agreed, lacing his fingers in the messy brown locks of the other boy. The long fingers of one hand encircled the base of his cock, angling it so that he could better reach it. With his eyes locked with Mingi, Yunho pressed a kiss to the underside of his head. Mingi whimpered and could only watch as Yunho’s pretty Cupid’s bow lips parted to take it in his mouth. The warm wet of his mouth encircled him and it felt like paradise.

Yunho broke eye contact as he pushed his mouth down the length until it filled his mouth. He pulled back to just the tip and swirled his tongue around it like it was the sweetest candy. With his free hand, he fondled the balls hanging so tightly against his body. Mingi moaned, closing his eyes and throwing his head back.

Pulling himself higher, Yunho propped himself up, his hands caressing and holding the trim waist of the other boy. He reveled in the soft velvety skin as it stroked against his tongue and along the roof of his mouth. He drew himself off taking a few steadying breaths, he angled himself to take as much as he could into his mouth. Like Yunho himself, Mingi was not a small boy and Yunho met his limit before he managed to take all of him. Mingi gasped, eyes widening as he watched the other boy sink down on him. His stomach clenched and he had to keep himself from bucking up as he felt his tip hit the softness of the back of Yunho’s throat.

Yunho drew back, lines of slick drool covering the stiff line of Mingi’s cock as he did. He stroked the length as he paused to catch his breath before going back, again working his mouth down as far as he could. Yunho let out a low moan, stroking the flat of his tongue against the underside of Mingi’s member as he moved his head up and down.

“Yunho,” Mingi breathed as the other boy pulled back again.

“Hmmm?” Yunho looked up at him, running the pat of his thumb over the slit on the tip.

“I’m getting close,” Mingi shook his head, hands reaching for the soft mop of Yunho’s hair.

“Good,” He grinned back. Yunho took him back in his mouth bobbing as quickly as he could, careful not to graze his teeth along the thick length as he moved. Mingi felt waves of pleasure clench his stomach and curl his toes, he twitched and gasped. His hands clutched for something to steady him. They tangled in the sheets and in Yunho’s hair, feeling his head move with the waves of pleasure.

Yunho took a deep breath through his nose and watched Mingi’s face screw up into a mask of mindless pleasure. He wanted to see him as he finally let go. Sliding down again, this time he ignored the discomfort when it brushed the back of his throat. It made him gag slightly, drool pooling in his mouth. But he pushed past it, letting his cock slide back into his throat. Mingi, overwhelmed by the feel, lost control and bucked his hips up, driving himself all the way into Yunho’s mouth as his orgasm hit him.

“Sorry sorry sorry sorry,” he stuttered as he felt his cock twitch as it emptied down Yunho’s throat. Yunho blinked away the blur of tears that had come along with the triggering of his gag reflex. It was all worth it for the look he could still make out on the other boy's face and to feel the warm gushes of his cum run down his throat.

“It’s okay,” Yunho croaked, his throat slightly irritated by Mingi’s repeated intrusions. “That was as good as my fantasies.”

“Thank you,” Mingi leaned forward, tilting Yunho’s face so that he could kiss him. “If we do that again, I promise I’ll try to be more careful.”

“Don’t apologize,” Yunho gave a dark chuckle. “I like that I can make you lose control like that.”

“I’d say you are mean, but…” Mingi’s face split into a joyful smile. “You’re too sweet.”

“I think we should clean up and get our girl cleaned up a little,” Yunho suggested, looking at her sleeping form curled up beside them. Mingi nodded, sliding off the bed onto wobbly legs and heading to the large master bath attached to the room. He waddled in and turned on the shower, letting the water warm up. Yunho came in behind him, arms filled with a still groggy girl.

“Go ahead and hop in the shower,” Yunho suggested. “I think our girl is going to need a bath.”

“Is she okay,” Mingi asked, worried that they had made her so tired.

“How about it babe,” Yunho asked her, sitting both of them on the edge of the large porcelain bathtub. “You okay?”

“Mmm,” she nodded. “I’m tired...maybe hungry now.”

“Let’s get you in the bath and then I will bring you some pizza,” Yunho offered. “If you wash up, you can get in the tub with our girl, help her clean up.” He tempted the other boy, in part because he didn’t want to leave her alone in the water as sleepy as she was, but also wanting to give Mingi a few moments with her. Mingi nodded happily and stepped in under the warm water.

Yunho started to fill the tub before he leaned over to search the drawers near the sink to look for something to clip her hair up to keep it out of the water. He found a claw clip and twisted her ponytail into a messy bun.

“There, perfect,” he declared, tweaking her nose and making her giggle. Mingi stepped out of the shower, his hair a damp mess. He padded over to the filling tub and stretched out in the water, opening his arms to accept her small form. Yunho carefully laid her in Mingi’s lap, stepping back as he enveloped her in his long arms and buried his face in the crook of her neck. Yunho stepped into the shower to wash off quickly, letting the warm stream of water relax his muscles and wash away the stickiness of the sweat that had coated his skin. He smiled at the happy murmurs and chuckles that reached his ears from the other two. They were just quiet enough to obscure what was said, but the happiness was evident in their tone, nonetheless. He turned off the shower, clean and refreshed, tousled his hair with a towel and dried himself off before stepping out.

Yunho slipped out of the room while Mingi was still holding her, rocking tenderly, as he held her against his chest. She smiled up at him, pressing a light kiss against his cheek, lifting her foot to break the surface of the water, watching the ripples skate over it’s stillness.

“Are you okay, really?” Mingi asked quietly, bending his knees slightly to make a better seat for her on his lap.

She nodded, threading her fingers through his where they rested on her stomach. “Thank you for tonight. It was better than I had hoped.”

“It didn’t hurt?” He pressed, unable to forget some of the boastful stories he had overheard in places like locker rooms when guys bragged to stroke their egos with each other.

“No, it didn’t hurt,” she promised. “But now my thighs are sore. I think I used muscles I didn’t know I had. I’m gonna need some practice to get them in shape.”

“Next time, maybe I can...you know,” He couldn’t finish his sentence. She could feel his face warm as he blushed.

“Maybe next time you can…” She teased, letting the pause carry. “Make love to me? Fuck? Screw me? Fornicate?” Behind her he giggled, squeezing her more tightly against him.

“Yeah,” he confirmed. “I was just afraid I was going to do it wrong; that I would hurt you.”

“You would never,” she assured him. “Not my precious Mingles.”

“I love you two so much more than I can ever say,” he confessed, his voice tight with emotion. “I don’t know what I would do if you ever left me.”

“You’re stuck with us,” she promised. “You could run to the ends of the earth and we would come to find you.”

Mingi could only hold her as he swallowed past the prickle of tears and the lump in his throat. Yunho stood outside the door, holding one of the boxes of pizza, listening to her reassure the other boy, his heart swelling at her words. He couldn’t have put it better. He would go to the ends of the earth and back for them. No, they were his world and he would do anything just to make them smile.

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razorblade180 · 3 years

Text

Shackles Finale: Free

[Part 12]

Destiny is a fickle thing. For some it’s real, and for others it’s as fake as fairy tales. No matter what however, time still goes on. Things still happen. Ruby was never one to think too hard on the topic despite all she’s been through. However, as she walked into Menagerie’s hospital soaking wet from the extreme downpour happening in the middle of the night, Ruby couldn’t help but wonder if it was destiny to test everyone’s resolve; or karma coming to collect.

Her self imposed mission had been going well. Adam cooperated, Blake planned ahead, and things progressed steadily. It should’ve stayed like that for three more months. Unfortunately things don’t always go as planned. Jacquelyn went into labor early, too early. The woman woke up today looking fit as a fiddle. Who could’ve guessed she would be fighting for her life today? Her, and her daughter?

Hospital staff were in a frenzy from the storm just like the public. It made getting to the back where everyone was without suspicion easy for Ruby. Certain doctors were notified ahead of time of the complexities of their patient and precautions had already been in place for Jacquelyn and company to have no disturbances. Though nobody factored in an unhealthy birth creating this island’s worst storms to date. Ruby made it to the sealed off waiting room. What should’ve been a haven of calm was another conflict. Blake stood arms folded and ears back in the way of guards and her conflicted father while Adam sat behind her, silent.

“You know I expected more from you, Saber. That goes double for you dad.”

The man frowned. “Blake, this wasn’t my-”

“We have held our end of the agreement.” Saber interjected, “Adam was to be free until the child was born. Not my problem that day came early.”

Blake grit her teeth. “You know damn well that’s not why I’m standing here right now!” She said through her teeth. His kid had just been born moments ago and just like that, she was rushed to intensive care. Meanwhile Jacquelyn was slipping in and out, her body failing her during the labor. “Let him see this through.”

“What good would it do him to hear terrible news? He’ll lash out for all we know. That can not happen in a hospital!”

“You just want to kick him while he’s down!”

“AND FOR GOOD REASON!”

Okay, Ruby had enough. “HEY!” She yelled, gaining everyone’s attention. She brushed her wet hair out of her face. “I set up generators across the island. No one's gonna lose power. I also told people Menagerie’s guards were making their rounds to make sure everyone was accounted for. I don’t mean to overstep being an outsider and all but…” her eyes burrowed into Saber’s “Get to work.” It wasn’t kind or even right necessarily, but Ruby didn’t care.

Feeling the pressure, Saber made the wise decision to take his people and leave. Ghira looked at Blake with guilt in his eyes for letting it get this far. “Listen I-”

“You know I understand mom not wanting anything to do with this, but I didn’t expect this from you. It’s like you’re trying to create every reason to push him back into old habits and make all this worthless. We will hold up our end of the bargain, so teach them what you tell me and have some patience.”

Ghira didn’t want to admit it, but she was right. There was caution, and then there was insensitivity. He had no words, just a nod before walking away.

Ruby grabbed his arm in passing. “She knows this wasn’t your call. Blake is stressed. Your house still has power. Ilia is with Kali trying to calm down Sienna and Sun is helping check on people. Maybe you should go home too?” Ruby smiled softly. She knew a worried father when she saw one. Ghira needed something to do.

“I appreciate the concern Mrs. Rose, but I think I’ll just stand guard outside this room.”

“Understood, and hey, things will work themselves out.” Ruby let him go and headed from one worried feline to the next. “You know he’s not to blame right? He’s just…trying to keep everyone connected.”

Blake let out a sigh, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “I know that, and I also know he’s not going to lose me. But right now I really need everyone to not jump the gun. Thanks for keeping the peace. Maybe I should’ve paid more attention to your leadership skills.”

“I just got snippy with faunus officers on their own island. Really testing my boundaries with my status as an important huntress across Remnant.” Ruby patted Blake on the back. “You should go check in on the doctors. I’ll do my job watching our person of interest.”

“Okay.” Blake looked back at Adam. He stayed quiet throughout all of this, eyes closed and arms crossed. He must’ve figured the best thing he could do right now is not look threatening. “I’ll let you know first if anything changes okay?”

He still didn’t move but that didn’t stop him from speaking. “Thank you.” He heard Blake run off in a hurry while the sound of chair legs rubbed the ground in front of him. Adam opened his one good eye and saw Ruby sitting in front of him with her scroll in hand.

“You know…I can’t remember when a day has felt this long.” Ruby sighed, “Moments like these is enough to just make you want stop time ya know?”

“I don’t need sympathy.”

“Wasn’t giving any. Just venting I guess. My husband sent me a text. I’m missing a very important arrival today; not that it’s your fault by any means. I just know it’s gonna be grounds for a conversation later that might get feisty, again.”

Adam could see how tired Ruby was. The normally energetic woman was leaning back in her seat, eyes closed.

“Maybe you shouldn’t take long missions then?”

“Pfft nah. I don’t regret helping where I can. Besides I didn’t know until after I took the mission. Things will work themselves out though. That’s how family works. Believe in each other and the impossible happens.”

“I know what you’re doing. It’s not gonna work. Just stop talking okay?”

Ruby pursed her lips. Years of leadership didn’t prepare her talks like these. She had to say something though. It was hard to explain, but Ruby could feel the importance of this moment. Good or bad news, bottling this up would make anyone go insane. Ruby reached down her shirt and lifted her necklace. It was a silver cross with red roses wrapped around it. She took it off and dangled it on her fingers, scooting closer to Adam.

“My dad and uncle gave this to me on my birthday. They said…sometimes you need a piece of faith when you don’t have any yourself. I’m not really religious but apparently my mom used to pray after she knew there was nothing left she could do herself. Hehe, it’s a Rose mentality.” Ruby put it in Adam’s hand and curled it. “Don’t tell anyone this, but it’s pretty cool that you are your own kind of rose. Makes me feel like we’re connected in a way. Keep that. I know it’ll fit you.”

Adam remained quiet. He stared down at the trinket in his hand until his vision blurred. His body trembled. Slowly he clenched the cross. “I have no right to pray for anything. If destiny or whatever you want to call it exists then it’s only fair I get punished.”

Ruby frowned, “Hey that’s-” she cut herself short, not expecting Adam to put his other hand over the cross; his forehead pressing against them as he closed his eyes.

“Punish me.” He uttered weakly. “Me, not them. Leave everyone else out of it.” The first and only prayer he’ll ever make. His life could be at destiny’s whim forever as long as the ones who fought for him didn’t get burned.

Ruby stood from her seat and knelt down, grabbing his hands and joining the prayer. All while Ghira watched silently from the entrance.

For several hours, It was out of everyone’s hands. A roll of the dice, luck of the draw, fate, gods, destiny, whatever anyone wanted to call it; that was the only thing left and no one dared to keep track of the time out of anxiety. It was a scary, humbling feeling for certain. It was also the purest reminder that life wasn’t fair. Bad things happen to good people, hard work is left with nothing, and sometimes… a sinner’s prayers get heard.

The doors flung open with Blake breathless. “Adam…” she panted, eyes bigger than the smile on her face. “She’s-” the tears shed caught her off guard. The two roses stared blankly before Adam stood. Blake moved out of the doorway and he took it as a sign. ‘Run.’ Adam ran and no one dared to stop him.

“Back room.” Blake said, walking to her father. Ruby got up as well and joined the two. Blake looked at the red faced girl. The feline giggled softly while wiping Ruby’s tears. “And here I thought I knew how big your heart was?”

Ruby laughed as she tried to stop sniffling. “It’s not what it looks like. Seeing him sit there with his demons like that, it reminded me of how my dad and uncle qrow used to look when mom was brought up. Sorry, got a little compromised.”

“Welcome to the club. Dad, sorry I-”

Ghira wrapped his arm around Blake. “Don’t apologize. I tell you to take things slow and yet I tried rushing to the end of this. I’m sorry. I can’t say what lies in store for Adam next, but I suppose…I’ll have to keep more of an open mind. He’s earned that much.”

Ruby shook her head and sighed. “If I’m being honest, personally I think everyone has been a bit silly. Including my lovable sis. You all make it sound like he’s been trouble free for six months when that isn’t the case. I can’t say if he’s been perfect or not but the fact that Remnant thinks he died at Argus has to mean something, right? I certainly can’t link him to any world threatening incidents since then. He’s been minding his business for a couple years now. Is locking him up really gonna change anything? I mean it wouldn’t matter if Cinder was in or out of jail for me. I’d still be wary and pissed. Your men’s feelings about him wouldn’t change because of a cell. But hey, that’s just me.”

Ruby put her hands behind her hand and walked off. “I’m gonna step out for a moment and make a call.” She looked out a window. To her surprise, the rain had stopped. Ruby dialed Yang’s number. “Hey sis! Beautiful day to start a family. So, what’s my precious little niece’s name?”

xxxx

Adam reached the back room and pushed the door open to find Jacquelyn in bed, startled by his entrance before giving him a grin. Her skin had a sickly yellow dinge to it and she was covered in sweat. Still she smiled, holding a small infant as doctors looked at vitals and did their work.

“Awe, have you been crying? I’m sorry. Guess we gave you a fright.”

One of the nurses looked at the maiden like she was crazy. “Ma’am you slipped into a coma. Please don’t try and move around much.”

“I was a little tired, that's all. Heh…guess we finally found something I’m not good at? That’s un- oh…” Adam put his arms around her and the baby. Odd, to think he could hold something this gently? His presence soothed her into leaning into the embrace, humming quietly to both him and the new arrival. A premature baby with red hair, and tiny horns.

The doctor, naturally sworn to confidentiality, watched from the sidelines. “I’d like to congratulate you with confidence, but these two aren’t out of the woods yet. While I expect Jacquelyn to bounce back with time, your daughter is pretty frail. We have her stable for the time being but the heart is a complex organ even when fully developed. We’re going to have to keep her for a while just to make sure she’ll grow up healthy. Rest assured, I will do everything in my power for her.”

“Thank you.” Adam looked at his daughter’s round face. She opened her eyes to reveal two pools or bright blue. “Hmmm.”

“Something wrong?” Jacquelyn asked.

“She’ll have a hard time, with these features going for her. I was hoping she’d look more like you.”

“Oh hush. She’s beautiful like this. Though maybe I am a little jealous she doesn’t have my hair. Still, real big fan of those eyes.” She kissed his cheek. “We’ll do our best and then some.”

The doctor pulled out some paperwork. “Now then, I’m going to need a name. Her record won’t be too expensive in terms of…background history, but she’ll need the basics as best as possible. Especially in her condition.”

“Wanna name her after your mother, or even your sister?”

Adam shook his head, “I think we already have enough namesakes. Let her be free from that. You decide. I was never really good at these kinds of things.”

“Oooo okay. Don’t come crying later if you think of a good one. A free spirited name for our little kid.” Jacquelyn giggled to herself. “Got it. How about we name her…”

“Hehe, That’s a perfect name.” The two roses spoke.

#rwby #adam taurus #jacquelyn frost #rwby au #blake belladonna #ruby rose #ghira belladonna #rwby shackles

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