#as much as its irritated disbelief

[theconfusedartist]

Canon Information- Pieces of Eden

A Piece of Eden is a type of sophisticated technology created by the Isu which reacts with the network of neurotransmitters engineered into human brains. With the notable exception of the Shrouds of Eden, the majority of the Pieces of Eden were designed for the primary purpose of mentally and physically controlling human thoughts, emotions, and behavior. They were, therefore, the main instrument by which the Isu forced the humans to serve as slaves.

The powers of the Pieces of Eden have mystified humanity over millennia, enough for them to conflate them with "magic" throughout history. The extinction of the Isu civilization following the Great Catastrophe only reinforced this, as memories of the Isu faded into legends and myths. (now that I'm thinking about it, even if the Isu were wiped out, its very highly unlikely that humans wouldn't also be wiped out in canon. Due to the humans and Isu sharing a society, but the lore never explains this.)

Since humans lack the technological expertise to reproduce these devices, they have long been the subject of innumerable conflicts between rival humans seeking them for their own ends. In particular, they are a central obsession of the Templar Order, which has devoted much of their resources to searching and seizing these artifacts in their quest for world domination. (no mention on how the assassins have become similarly obsessed? Hm)

Description

Although most classes of Pieces of Eden, such as the Apples and Staves of Eden, were utilized as tools by which humanity could be controlled, others deviated from this purpose. The Swords of Eden are primarily weapons capable of emitting energy blasts while the Shrouds of Eden are medical in nature, designed for healing even the most mortal of wounds. The diverse functions of the devices extend further: many are capable of bending the thoughts of one or more individuals to that of the user, projecting illusions or concealing the user's presence. The Precursor boxes, powered by other Pieces of Eden, can imprint the memories of its users onto others and decode examples of Isu script, like the Voynich manuscript. (which then begs the question, if the Isu were able to manipulate DNA in order to possess humans and also able to imprint memories: WHATS THE POINT OF THE ANIMUS THEN??? WHY IS IT STILL USED OR EVEN CONSIDERED IMPORTANT TO THE STORY? Why the FUCK did the games make it such a big deal that Desmond had such a high sync rate when they can *apparently* use someone else's blood to see the memories of their ancestors?)

Other functions are more mundane relative to modern human technology, such as the projection of holograms or the Crystal Skulls which act as long-distance communication devices, but these nevertheless appeared supernatural to ancient peoples. (so would zoom to a person living in the 1950s bro)

Since the end of the Isu civilization, these devices, appearing sporadically in the hands of humans, have acquired a status as legendary relics of phenomenal properties. Greatly eclipsing the technological level of human civilization, even into modern times, the Pieces of Eden bestow tremendous power over society to those who come to possess them. (and going mad is just a fun side effect to show off at parties, I guess? Odd how that literally never comes up in the story, but it was shown to happen over and over again in previous games, but ok. Oh! And don't forget it was previously established that only certain people could use them without going insane! Because the writers sure as shit did.)

Their employment has therefore had immense impacts on human history; some of the most influential leaders such as Alexander the Great, Genghis Khan, Napoleon Bonaparte, and Mahatma Gandhi were aided by their use of a Piece of Eden. (???? wasn't there a whole codex page about how Altaïr felt conflicted at killing Genghis Khan once he realized that humans had the potential to do great harm to each other without the PoE? Becuase he didn't? Have one when Altaïr killed him? Or was that yet another retcon later on?)

Recognizing their significance, the Pieces of Eden have been at the forefront of the Templar Order's goals for centuries as they hope that by exploiting the artifacts, they could achieve their vision of a New World Order. The contest for the Pieces of Eden between the Templars and their archenemies, the Assassins, who traditionally seek to safeguard them, has been a hallmark of their millennia long war. (hey, remember when Desmond had that badass sequence where he raids the Abstergo base to save his dad, killing people left and right with his blades and apple of Eden? And no one said anything about the fact that he, an Assassin, used a PoE the same way templars do? And treated the event like it was insignificant? This girlie does!)

Characteristics and attributes

"This... piece of silver cast out Adam and Eve. It turned staves into snakes. Parted and closed the Red Sea. Eris used it to start the Trojan War; and with it, a poor carpenter turned water into wine."

Al Mualim, speaking to Altaïr about the Apple.

(?????? Did i miss something? When did he say this? No, fr, when did he ever say this? Am I just forgetting something? Did he say this in the novels? In revelations? Like, genuinely, when did he ever have an open and honest discussion with Altaïr about the PoEs?)

Amongst the greatest tools known to man, the Apples of Eden can control the human mind by interacting with a neurotransmitter located deep in the human brain. (and yet for some reason, there are so many different PoEs that have nothing to do with mind control...)

Other Pieces of Eden are capable of warping reality, creating illusions, ensuring total obedience and healing physical injuries.[1][2] (which only makes things more confusing when the lore claims the Isu couldn't change the past) Both Templars and the Assassins believe that the Pieces of Eden were responsible for many historical tales and miracles, such as the Parting of the Red Sea, the Trojan War, the miracles enacted by Jesus Christ, and the Biblical plagues that ravaged Egypt.[3] According to Dr. Álvaro Gramática, all Pieces of Eden are made of an unknown metal resembling gold or silver that Abstergo dubbed 'Pathorica'.[4]

Abilities of the Pieces

Some Pieces of Eden were known to interact with and change the passage of time, possibly creating paradoxes. Others were able to "speak" to those who wielded them, as was the case with Ezio Auditore, Perotto Calderon and Giovanni Borgia, who spoke with Ezio's Apple and the Shroud.[2][5]

When activated, Apples of Eden are capable of extending a pulse of energy that can drive those in the surrounding area to insanity and death. Doing so has a detrimental effect on the physical health of the wielder if they are unskilled in the Apples' use, but a capable user is not as easily afflicted.[6] Altaïr, for example, was able to use Apple #2 for a limited duration without adverse affects at age 92.[7] Using the Pieces' powers in short bursts can also minimize the negative effects dealt by the artifacts, though to what extent is unknown.[1]

Destruction of a Piece

Following the destruction of Apple of Eden #2 during an experiment at the Denver International Airport, the Templars found themselves in need of another artifact with similar properties. Seeking access to a map that indicated the location of all Pieces of Eden, Abstergo kidnapped Desmond Miles in order to view the memories of his ancestor, Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad. This would allow them to see the very same map that Altaïr discovered in 1191.[3]

Each of the Pieces of Eden contained a great deal of potential energy, and the destruction of one could cause an explosion on the scale of a nuclear blast. One such explosion occurred in 1908, in the region of Tunguska, Russia. The Imperial Sceptre, one of the Staves of Eden, was seemingly destroyed when Nikola Tesla fired at the Tunguska facility with his wireless electric weapon, attempting to strike a blow against the Templars.[1][3][8]

However, the blast failed to totally destroy the Staff, and at least one shard remained.[9] The Staff shard still possessed powers of mind control, as demonstrated by Grigori Rasputin. While he was in possession of the shard, he brainwashed Alexandra Feodorovna, the wife of Tsar Nicholas II of Russia, as well as several disciples like Khioniya Guseva.[2]

Resistance

"I KNOW WHAT YOU'RE DOING. I KNOW WHAT YOU DID. I SAW HIM. HE HAD A METAL BALL. IT OPENED. THEY WENT CRAZY. SHOOTING. STABBING. TORE EACH OTHER TO PIECES. I KNOW IT WAS YOU PEOPLE. SAW THE LOGO. HEARD THE NAME. I'M GOING TO TELL. ANYONE WHO WILL LISTEN. YOU'LL BE EXPOSED. THEY'LL KNOW THE TRUTH. AND THEN YOU WILL PAY. YOU CRAZY BASTARDS. YOU'LL PAY." ―An unidentified individual's e-mail to Dr. Warren Vidic.[src]

Altaïr deactivating an Apple

Although the Isu created humanity to be susceptible to the Pieces of Eden, eventual cross-breeding between them and their slaves led to the birth of a hybrid species. These new humans possessed some of the natural abilities of their creators and were free of the neurotransmitter necessary for the Pieces of Eden to control them.[1]

The first two known hybrids were Adam and Eve, who later stole one of the Apples of Eden and instigated the Human-Isu War.[1] Members of their lineage inherited these natural abilities and immunity to the Pieces, although the Pieces' ability to physically manipulate them remained.[3] These traits were passed down through generations to the likes of Altaïr, Ezio and Desmond.[1]

By the early 21st century, the Templars were aware that some humans were immune to the Pieces' mind control. On at least one occasion, Dr. Warren Vidic received an email from an individual unaffected by the Apple's power, who threatened to expose what they had seen when an Apple was used on others.[3] (this is also another thing i have issue with: is it only people who have Isu DNA that can resist? can anyone with a strong willpower resist? what makes one susceptible to them when literally anyone can use them, but some people go crazy)

Also, I want to go more into detail in a separate reblog simply because the apples of eden are the most retconned PoE with so many abilities that go against what they originally were described to be able to do.

#this is just the wiki of the pieces of eden #but i felt like it was important to have #simply becuase #so much?? #of the info??? #contradicts itself on what PoE even do???? #not the fault of the wiki but the writing itself #also peep how this wiki article claims they're an obsession of the templars but doesn't point out the same for the assassins #i probably sound really salty and its not so much me being salty #as much as its irritated disbelief #the writers literally own the series. they have the manual! they have the forbidden knowledge!!!! #why won't they use it for their own story?! #every time i learn about how the PoE were orignally used vs how they're used in lore now #i feel like i'm being told 'there is no war in Ba Sing Se' and that my memory is wrong

[silkjade]

MIRACLE ALIGNERS

Featuring— neuvillette x reader ⤀ warnings: none ! ⤀ summary: the melusines play matchmaker a/n: do they need an ideal mother

Your relationship with fontaine’s melusines started when you took on the menial task of helping menthe tailor the sleeves of her too long cuffs, and was solidified after your wholehearted support for aeval’s aquabus tour. In such a small community, word travels fast and your popularity skyrockets when mamere paints your portrait as her muse of choice. 

It’s not like you mind, as they’re quite easy to get along with—very sweet, if not a little naive—and you do enjoy their company when they greet you on the streets or invite you to tea. Still, it comes as a bit of a surprise when a few approach you, absolutely convinced that you’d be a great companion to their ‘very lonely, very human friend.’ 

…Which is how you come to find yourself seated at cafe lucerne, impatiently tapping your fingers at this supposed ‘friend’ who would be so rude as to make you wait more than 30 minutes past the designated meeting time. You take a deep breath to keep your irritation at bay, convincing yourself that any friend of the melusines, especially one they speak so highly of, must be a good person.

As you continue to wait, one table away, something very blue crosses your line of sight, and you look up to discover that it’s none other than the esteemed iudex himself, the chief justice who radiates such an air of refined elegance that you cannot help but sit up a little straighter in his vicinity. Seems this day just got a little more interesting as it’s not everyday you run into the notoriously elusive monsieur neuvillette just out and about on the streets of fontaine.

You yourself have been to your share of trials at the opera epiclese, seen him from his seat up above, looming over the courtroom, high and mighty. Up close, he’s still all sharp lines and perfect etiquette, the very personification of grace, but you can’t deny the fact that he’s so much more handsome in person. 

He casts a glance towards a nearby clock, and while his expression remains largely neutral, his violet eyes dance, perturbed. Perhaps he’s also meeting someone here? You deduce that it must be so, judging by the fact that he’s seated at a table clearly meant for more, and since you obviously have the time, you might as well play detective, which now begs the question: who could he be meeting?

You highly doubt it’s lady furina, so perhaps another official? Except an outdoor cafe is hardly the place to conduct such business. Besides, the average fontainian would be much too intimidated to dare keep someone of such high regard waiting. Maybe a friend, then? 

Your head tilts as you think through your observations. At least outwardly, monsieur neuvillette is…cold. He presents himself the same way in and out of court: untouchable as the sun, but with none of its warmth. He’s private and stays out of the public eye, only ever seen interacting comfortably with the archon and…the melusines… 

You lean back in disbelief at the way it all clicks. Impossible. The friend the melusines so adamantly wanted to introduce you to is…monsieur neuvillette? What a ridiculous notion to even entertain. Besides, it’s public knowledge that he’s much more of a father figure to them… although it does explain why they seemed so tongue-tied describing this so-called ‘friend.’

And…he does look quite forlorn sitting there, face blank and fingers laced together. You make a mental note to remind your little friends that as amiable as he may be with them, they cannot just blindside you with the chief justice of fontaine. Still, a meeting is a meeting, and it’d be terribly rude of you to just up and leave.

“Um, pardon me monsieur neuvillette but you wouldn’t happen to be meeting anyone here, would you?”  

Neuvillette blinks. What a pleasant surprise; not many approach him of their own accord. “As it happens, I was supposed to meet a few melusines for tea.” He gestures to the evidently empty table, though his sharp ears catch the faint whispers amidst the rustle of leaves to his side. 

“However, I suspect they may have forgotten to inform me of their change of plans.” He clears his throat, tilting his head towards a nearby bush where the tips of a few very colorful pairs of ears wiggle in excitement.

The corners of your lips quirk into the beginnings of a small smile. “That’s funny—a few melusines insisted that I meet a very human friend of theirs, though he’s yet to show up.” For obvious reasons, you decide to drop the fact they called him lonely behind his back.

Ah. So you were the kind individual his melusines often spoke so fondly of.

“Perhaps he attended the trial this morning. It did run longer than anticipated.” Yes, you knew there must have been a valid explanation to the tardiness. 

“Well, maybe we can keep each other company while we wait?”

Neuvillette gestures at the empty chair across from him and you swear the sun seems to shine a little brighter. “I would very much like that.”

© silkjade — do not steal, plagiarize, translate or repost any content onto any other platform

#— 𝓼𝓲𝓰𝓷𝓮𝓭 𝓙. ༯ #neuvillette x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin fluff #genshin impact fluff #neuvillette fluff #neuvillette x you #neuvillette x reader fluff #genshin impact drabbles #genshin drabbles #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #genshin neuvillette #genshin impact #genshin impact fic #genshin fanfic #genshin impact scenarios #genshin imagines

[obeythebutler]

Hi! I'm new to your blog so I apologize if I mess anything up.

Could I request MC surprising the brothers with a feast they accidentally cooked up because they were worried that there worried that their wouldn't be enough food for the brothers?

It's 7:30am and his brother still aren't ready for RAD.

Hell, they haven't even stepped down for breakfast. Even Beel, never the one to miss it is missing.

Did all his brothers decide to skip today's classes? Were they orchestrating some other useless prank?

Lucifer stares at his watch, waiting. If they don't come down in the next five minutes he's going to leave them at home and give them detention. Maybe he'll have to pull Mammon out of his bed again, or carry Belphegor down the stairs.

The thought of dragging his brothers like sacks of potatoes down the stairs makes his head ache. It’s always been like this, him caving in so easily to his brothers demands, being so lax on them.

The saving grace is the human exchange student.

MC.

They're on breakfast duty today, and Lucifer can smell the pleasant hint of roasted hellfire mushrooms. Cinnamon too. They've always been a diligent person when it comes to their work.

Unlike his brothers.

Sigh.

"If you all don't hurry up, the food is going to get cold!" Their voice rings from the kitchen, and Lucifer opens his mouth to give one last reprimand to his brothers, to hurry up and come down before he drags them.

There's a blur besides him then, a flurry of moment that messes up his perfectly styled hair.

"Food cooked by the human! I call dibs on it, I'm the great Mammon after all!"

The eldest gawks at his brother, perhaps in disbelief or surprise, and then fixes his hair in resignation. Whatever makes him be on time, his scoldings or MC's voice.

Lucifer rolls his shoulders, steps forward to get into the dining hall instead of the hallway, but then he senses footsteps on the stairs. Five pairs of shoes, each distinguishable from the other.

His brothers are a blur as they surpass him to get to the dining hall.

What the—

At this point, all the man can do is to slap his palm on his forehead.

They won't listen to him, but they'll willingly rush to the dining hall when MC calls, huh? For the sake of hell and everything that is corrupted, they're such simps that its intolerable to watch.

As soon as he steps in though, Lucifer is rendered speechless by the sight in front of him. So are the brothers.

There's just.....so many plates of food. Creamed Bonnacon, Devil Zebra Bacon Sandwich, Hell Pancakes, and that doesn't even cover it. Blood Strawberries, Caramel Shadow Tart, Ghost Watermelon....It's a feast fit for a banquet, and it must have taken so much time to cook all that...

"T-That's......that's just like that anime! Where the main character cooks up a feast for their roommates because they didn't want them to go hungry so they woke up at the crack of—"

"Shut yer mouth Levi." Mammon says, although there is no irritation in his tone as he gapes at the dining table. He can spot some of his favorite foods, given that there are plates and plates of them. He mentioned some of his favorite things to eat to MC long time back, but he didn't think that they would remember.

The fourth-born has a smile on his face now, as he stares at the cat drawn on his pancake with blueberry syrup. It's so cute.

He remembers MC placing some pots and utensils on the table the night before, stating that it would be less time-consuming in mornings given the rush.

His cheeks feel hot.

"Now, darling, that is quite a feast you have cooked up for us!" Asmodeus hangs behind MC's shoulder as he compliments them. There is still flour on their cheeks, and so he wipes it away from them using his thumb, earning squawks of protest from both Levi and Mammon. "Thank you so much! This is soo going on Devilgram!"

"I thought the usual wouldn't be enough," They mumble, nervously shifting their gaze from the brothers to the table. Asmo's weight on their shoulders is a comfortable one, yet the intense scrutiny they are subjected to makes them want to hide away. "Next thing I knew was that I kept adding and adding ingredients until I realised what I did. So you better finish it all."

Belphegor giggles. "That won't be a problem." He can sense his twin's growing hunger at the sight of the feast before him, and food does taste better when cooked by your loved ones. The demon is glad that he chose to be on time today.

Wait, Beel was right besides him, he isn't here....

"Woah—" MC can only stumble out the words as they are caught off guard when pulled into a hug by the sixth born. He's tall, and so warm. "Easy there!"

"Thank you MC!" Beel's voice is full of happiness, and he can't help but hug them for it. He knows his gluttony is a lot to handle, and it causes a lot of trouble for others, but them going out of their way to make extra efforts and ensuring that he and his brothers won't go hungry makes him feel loved.

He'll wait this time, to eat with MC.

"At what time did you wake up to cook all of this?"

You turn your head towards Satan, who is now besides you. Gazing at you ever so softly. "I woke up around three, couldn't sleep since I had drunk a lot of coffee the night before."

"Your sleep schedule will be messed up if you continue," He reprimands you, but his tone is light.

"Thank you for ensuring that we all don't go hungry though." Lucifer smiles as he says that.

Maybe this is what home is.

You and the brothers, cooking too much and enjoying it nevertheless. Casual conversation drifting across the table, with Hell coffee as bitter as ever, packing some for Purgatory Hall residents and leaving together for RAD as the gates to the house close behind you all in remembrance.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me x reader #obey me lucifer #obey me satan #obey me leviathan #obey me mammon #obey me belphegor #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me imagines #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me mammon x reader #obey me leviathan x reader #obey me satan x reader #obey me asmodeus x reader #obey me beelzebub x reader #obey me belphegor x reader

[brummiereader]

MASTERLIST PART ONE

Unchained Melody (Part Two)

Summary: Thrown back into the life you abandoned, you are left to find your own way in your former home as Tommy's refusal to say what needs to be said leaves a heavy tension between you both. With your husband's avoidance and unwillingness to talk, you quickly learn for yourself the many things that have changed in Arrow House, and of the Governess you believe has taken your place. Do your worries hold any weight? Or are they simply the fears of a woman trying to recover who she once was?

Warnings: Language, angst, postpartum depression, mutual pining

Word Count: 4359

"Your wife?..."The Governess laughed, a scoff catching in her throat as her eyes darted to Tommy and away from the disgusted look she was giving you when her smirk suddenly dropped at the unamused glare your husband was sending her. It took mere minutes for the news of your shock return to make its way around the vast estate of Arrow House, each and every worker peering into the foyer of your former stately home to get a glimpse of the woman that had returned from the dead. You could feel every stare, hear every whisper. And as your eyes cast down to your muddy shoes and those of the pristinely dressed woman in front of you, shame engulfed you and your legs slowly buckled. The only thing keeping you up, being that of your husband's tightening grip, warning you not to create any further commotion.

"Tommy?" the woman looked to him, her brow furrowed, the tone in her voice abruptly changing from one of disbelief to irritation. "Mr Shelby" she corrected herself when Tommy cocked a brow in response to her lapse in formalities, formalities that had already been blurred in your long absence. For just as shame and regret engulfed you whilst you stood there leaning into your husband's hold, Tommy found himself scrambling for some form of professionalism with the Governess he had hired, as his own guilt quickly weighed heavy on his already burdened shoulders.

"Mr Shel.." she voiced again as Tommy walked you forward, a grunt shuddering past her lips as your husband's shoulder crashed into hers in passing, unwilling to answer questions from anyone, questions he himself did not yet have the answers for.

" Move" he commanded, pushing you forward to follow behind Frances and your sleeping son cradled warmly in her arms as she made her way up the long staircase, every step followed by the piercing stare of the Governess as she slowly turned around and watched you from below in the foyer.

" Get back to work!" She barked at the employees of Arrow House, glaring at each and every one of them as she stormed through the entrance heading for the library, the loud echoing of her heels resonating through the walls of the grand home coming to an abrupt stop when she slammed the door of the study firmly behind her.

" Quiet now William" Frances gently hushed your son's movements from the sudden noise briefly awakening him from his deep slumber, your husband's insistent grip tightening once again as his irritation with everyone's reaction continued to be taken out on your already sore arm.

" No. You stay with me" Tommy said when you went to follow William and Frances into the nursery, a surge of panic quickly engulfing you seconds later when he pulled your trembling body to the bedroom you once shared and William left your line of sight.

Letting go, Tommy stretched the strain from his fingers as he watched you kneed circles into your bruised flesh. Had he hurt you? He silently asked himself as he clenched and loosened his fist from the throbbing pain shooting through his bones. Why didn't you say anything? He thought to himself as he watched you with a furrowed brow, troubled as to why you didn't tell him to stop, why the woman stood before him hated herself so much that she had surrendered to the acceptance of pain without once flinching, nor uttering a word. Did you think you deserved it?

"Everything...everything is as you left it" Tommy sighed as his fingers came up to pinch his brow and the frustration growing within him for how he had behaved, everything but how he imagined he would've reacted in the lonely nights he had spent without you. What the fuck was wrong with him? He cursed himself once again. Never once had he laid a finger on you, never once had he wished you harm, and yet in the space of a few minutes he had done just that.

Willfully pushing down his anger through gritted teeth, Tommy watched you as you looked around the room, your fingers gliding over the satin bedsheets, your hands gingerly reaching out for your once cherished possessions carefully arranged like a shrine in your wake. He wanted to shout, he wanted to show you the depths of the darkness your absence had plunged him into. But instead, for the briefest of moments, Tommy found himself gazing at you, lost in your movements as the fading sun over the grounds of Arrow house cast a dusky orange glow around your body through the netted curtains.

As the memory of your last night shared together came hurtling back to him, tormenting him with time lost and moments stained, Tommy quickly span around, swallowing his mounting emotions and forcing them back from whence they came." Frances..." He said clearing his throat as he stood firmly with his back to you, adamant on you not seeing any more of the pain he had kept locked away for almost two years. "... Frances will run you a bath and burn those rags in the fire" he said sniffing back his tears, reaching for the door handle as his spite quickly returned.

" Tommy I..." Your voice drifted to him, cutting yourself off as you watched his firm grip on the brass knob tighten, feeling as if you were overstepping a line into his broken heart.

" Just tell me one thing Y/N. Was it because of me? Was I the reason you left?" He asked, his voice quiet, uncertainty and worry laced in every word, his restless thoughts as to what had you leave still fogged in a cloud of confusion and self-blame.

" Tommy no, of course not..." You assured as you hurried to him, abruptly recalling as you came face to face with the solemn heaviness weighing down his tired features and the loose tears pooled under his lashes. Had he really thought that? All this time? You asked yourself as you stood there in horror that he would believe such a thing, that you had let him believe such a thing. " Tommy wait, please!" You pleaded as he swiftly opened the door and slammed it behind him, leaving you in your own pool of tears as you sank down onto the bed.

Steadying himself with clenched fists around the landing banister, Tommy chocked out a cry as a sudden release of weight lifted off his shoulders. " Fuck..." he breathed heavily, resting his forearms over the wooden staircase as his fingers laced through the top of his hair, his body draining of the blame he had condemned himself with as your sobs echoed through the halls of Arrow house.

Thundering down the stairs and away from the sound of your cries luring him back, Tommy headed for his office, stubbornly enclosing himself away from the desperation of wanting to hold you and the will to let the fortress he had built around his heart come tumbling down. Stiff upper lip, keep calm and carry on. The British way. And what Tommy would soon learn, the wrong way.

" Thank you, Frances" you said handing her the last of your clothes as you dipped your foot into the heated bath whilst she lovingly folded them one by one into a neat pile, ignoring Tommy's orders to have them thrown on the fire he had already lit in the master bedroom.

" Everything is here for you Mam, fresh towe.." Frances said when your frustrated sobs caught her attention.

" Fuck sake" you began to cry as you tried to pull the comb through your knotted hair, surrendering to ever recovering your luscious locks as you then began to frantically scrub the dirt from your skin until your flesh turned bloody.

" Mrs Shelby! You'll scrub the skin of your bones" Frances hurried to you, gently taking the sponge from your trembling hands as you reached for her arm, clutching it in desperation.

" He's disgusted by me, with what I did, how I look.I...I cant...I can't get the knots out" your panicked voice tried to make sense of your hectic thoughts as you looked down at your marked skin.

" Would you like me to stay, Mam? And help?" She said taking your shaky hands within hers as her gentle smile looked down at you. Nodding, you let go of her arm as she pulled a wooden stool to the side of the bath and began to brush through your hair, gently loosening your matted locks. " Always did have such a beautiful crown of hair" she said combing through each section as you bit your trembling bottom lip.

" You don't have to be nice to me, Frances" you said as your hands flew to your face, hiding the barrage of emotions that was seconds away from flooding down your cheeks.

" And why ever not?" She said with a furrowed brow as she came to a stop.

" It's ok, I deserve it. You can say it. Everyone is thinking it" you cried, pushing your tears away as your chest filled with a shattering pain, and you began to sob into your hands.

" Mrs Shelby..." she sighed, her own eyes filling with tears for the sweet woman that had always treated her and everyone else who worked in the manor with the upmost respect and care. "Every worker here on the grounds of Arrow House has nothing but fond things to say about you. And not one judges you for the torment we all saw you battle through"

" You're very kind Frances, but...but I'm afraid my husband doesn't share those sentiments. He hates me " you cried looking down at your ring finger, the indent from where your wedding band once sat still visible to this day, a reminder of the abandonment you had committed and the marriage you had left behind.

" He blamed himself Mam, as men often do when their heart is breaking" she said as she returned to combing your hair and you listened intently to one of the few people close enough to have seen your husband's turmoil after the regretful night you had left. " Do you know why William calls you Mummy, Mrs Shelby?" Frances said, changing the subject to one that might uplift your spirits rather than dampen them anymore than they already were.

"No. Please, please tell me" you replied clutching to the side of the bath, clutching onto every word Frances said as the shock and confusion from hearing your son utter the one word you never thought would grace your ears earlier that day.

"Every night before putting little William to bed, Mr Shelby would sit with him and show him your picture. Not one night did he forget. He'd insist the poor mite stayed awake until his eyes were heavy as he hurried home from the city to tell him all about his Mummy. So that when he did fall asleep, his dreams would be of you" she said moving to the last knot in your hair as your heart tugged in your chest and the tender gesture Tommy fulfilled every night in your absence ." Does that not sound like a man who still loves his wife?" She asked as you turned to face her, nodding your head as tears wetted your cheeks. " Many things have changed since you left Mam. But there were many Mr Shelby could not part with. So they stayed. You stayed"

Sat alone on the edge of the bed dressed in your former clothes, your hair perfectly coiffed, your nails immaculately manicured, you waited in silence, not knowing what was expected of you now you had been thrown back into the life you once left, thrown into trying to find the woman you once was within the space of a few hours.

Tommy hadn't returned to you since slamming the door to your shared bedroom earlier that day, slamming out what needed to be discussed and the built up emotions that needed to be released. And with William being taken care of by the watchful eyes of a plethora of nannies, all under the command of who you could only assume was the Governess you had met hours earlier, you were left restless, awaiting the next moment you would be confronted by your husband again. Deciding not to prolong the inevitable, you gingerly opened the door to the bedroom and made your way down the long staircase, briefly coming to a halt at the sound of William's joyous giggles as he played in the nursery mere meters away. Tommy was keeping him from you. You were certain of it. And could you blame him? What right did you have to insert yourself back into his world when you had already given up the most cherished gift your life could have blessed you with. Motherhood. You thought to yourself as you came to the bottom of the stairs to see Tommy standing in the archway of the front door talking to the stable hand.

"Mrs Shelby" the older man beamed upon seeing you standing before him, the most sincere of smiles gracing his face as Tommy turned to look your way.

And there it was. Capturing him once again in the briefest of moments as time warped and he watched you step towards him, rid of the ragged clothes and muddied skin that hid your radiating beauty he could only gaze at through your cherished photos and portraits. Were you still his? He sheepishly thought to himself as he quickly glanced up from the floor to see you desperately holding out on his every move, his every word. As the question of your remaining love weighed heavy on his thoughts, melancholy feelings returned and Tommy did what he does best. He left. Snatching away his hunger to wrap his arms around you, he fled for a second time, leaving you with words unspoken and a heart heavy with shame.

" Not the welcome you were expecting, Mrs Shelby? Do I even call you that?" a voice approached you as an overpowering powdery smell of roses and soap filled your senses. " Left not only a troubled man but a difficult child in your wake" she said as you turned to face the Governess staring down at you. Judging you, once again." Over indulged and unable to soothe himself back to sleep. He should have left the breast after a month" she remarked flatly, as the only thing you thought you had done right by your child was cruelly snatched away from you within seconds. " The lower class, and poverty-stricken nurse their children. What a burden you must have put on Mr Shelby with the restless night's your refusal to do as any woman of your previous statue would do" she said belittling you once again as you turned to leave, feeling your frame shrink with each step at the insignificance this woman had made you feel without no mercy or regard to your feelings." What kind of mother, what kind of wife would do what you did?" She said as you came to a sudden halt. Brushing your tears from your cheeks, a sense of composure overcame you in response to the woman who was but a mere stranger to you, with judgmental words not even your husband had uttered to you. You were still Tommy's wife. William, still your son. And as you turned to face the bitterness and disregard she had for you and everything you once were, you corrected her not on her assumptions of you or the words you felt you were due, but on one thing.

" Mrs Shelby. You refer to me as Mrs Shelby"

As night fell, and a blanket of stars covered the skies of Arrow House, you lay in bed tossing and turning to the sound of William loudly wailing in the room adjacent to yours, as Tommy, you could only assume, was sleeping elsewhere, avoiding you once again. Why wasn't anyone going to him? You thought to yourself as you threw the covers off you and made your way to his door. Were they expecting you to go? Now you was back? You nervously pondered as you hovered by the door slowly opening it to see your son stood in his cot, his checks reddened from his restless cries.

" Mummy..." he wept loudly upon seeing you, his arms reaching out for you as you stood back and watched, your hands sweaty your face heated in panic.

" Shh William, it's ok" you said gingerly approaching him as he furiously strained his arms above his head for you to pick him up. " William, I...I don't think I'm allowed" you said nervously looking back to the door, every part of you wanting to sweep up your child and cradle him tightly in your arms. " I'm here William" you said giving in to every motherly instinct you possessed as you went to lift him out of his bed when the door creaked opened.

" Oh, Mrs Shelby! You gave me a fright" Frances said as her hand flew to her chest.

" Im sorry. He was crying. No...nobody came. I...I was only...please don't tell my husband" you panicked as you took a step back, scared your actions would see you cast from Arrow house. Never to see your child again.

" Enough of that. Take him, he's your child" she reassured you, gently guiding you forward. Lifting William from within his cot, you wrapped your hands around his small frame as his arms hung over your shoulders, and he gently sobbed into your chest. Overwhelmed with love, tears streaked your cheeks as you cradled the side of his head in your palm and placed a longing kiss to the crown of his head, breathing in the sweet smell of his hair as a surge of peace overcame you. " There we go" Frances smiled, watching Williams eyes get droopy with sleep as you rocked him back and forth in your arms, the sudden quietness quickly alerting Tommy who was sat on the steps outside the house, smoking himself through a packet of cigarettes like he did every night as he waited for the tormenting sound of his child's cries to settle.

"Why didn't anyone go to him?" you asked as William's body went heavy with sleep and his hiccuping sobs slowly started to fade into gentle breaths.

" The Governess has insisted on him self soothing. But William is a sensitive soul, and I've learnt over the years that one method doesn't work for all" she said stepping closer as she brushed the hair from his face. " You'll find any one of the staff up here on any given night, trying to get him back to sleep. Even our cook, Mr Giles on occasion, if the Governess is not standing guard" she said as Tommy approached the nursery, looking through the crack of the door to see you standing with his son in your arms, fast asleep.

" Frances..." you said turning to face her. "...Will he ever forgive me?" You asked as you rested your cheek on William's head, holding him as close as you could to your broken heart, hoping the severed bond would mend, and you could regain the years you had lost.

" I think he already does. That's the beautiful thing about children. They have only love in their hearts" she replied giving your arm a gentle squeeze.

" And Tommy?" You asked, yearning for your husband's forgiveness as you sought reassurance from Frances for a second time.

" When the storm has passed and the clouds have parted, he will be wanting the warmth of the sun back in his life. That i don't doubt" she replied as Tommy turned to leave for the four walls of his office and the bottle of whisky calling his name, ready to drown himself in the hurt he couldn't yet part with. "Hold your son Mrs Shelby. Don't ever let him go" she said, her parting words leaving a profound sentiment within you as you slowly walked to the rocking chair, turning it away from where you once sat and to the soft silver glow of the moon casting dreamy shadows onto the nursery floor.

"Oh I do like to be beside the seaside. Oh I do like to be beside the sea" you sang caressing William's face, looking down at his lips puckered together as his head weighed heavy on your chest and the gentle sound of his breathing played a calming melody to your ears " Forgive me William. I wasn't myself" you said as a tear streaked down your cheek and you brought his hand clutched tightly around your thumb to your lips, placing a tender kiss to his fingers" Sleep my sweet boy, sleep"

Standing by the fireplace in one of the many guest rooms of Arrow House, Tommy flicked the ash from his cigarette into the flames, welcoming the radiating burn from the orange glow under his calloused skin. He too had become accustomed to pain in your wake. Inviting it in like an old friend to feel something, anything that would make him feel alive again and not the emptiness that had encompassed him.

" Do you think she knows?" A voice alerted him as the door opened and Tommy lifted his head.

" What do you want?" Tommy huffed, turning his eyes back to the roaring fire and away from the Governess who was now slowly approaching him undoing the buttons of her ivory blouse.

" Do you think she knows about, us?" She asked again, running her hands up the front of his shirt as she leaned in to place her ruby lips to his when Tommy raised his cigarette, taking a long drag before blowing the fumes in her face. With Tommy's blatant annoyance with her unwelcome presence going amiss, she continued her endeavor, sweeping her hands over his torso and down to his belt. " You seem stressed" she said biting her bottom lip, unbuckling the clasp and sliding her hand into his briefs as a scoff left Tommy's lips and he shook his head in disbelief at the sheer brazenness of her actions. " Come on Tommy, let me make you feel good" she said as she stroked his softened cock up and down in her hand, her brow scrunching together in annoyance when her efforts were left in vain, leaving an unenthusiastic, unaroused Tommy smirking down at her. " Fine, have it your way" she smiled kneeling before him as she pulled his briefs down when Tommy's patience grew thin, and he suddenly grabbed her by the chin.

" My wife, the mother of my child, sleeps in the next room" he said clenching his jaw, his anger rapidly rising in response to her blatant disrespect for your presence and the day's events.

" Your wife" she scoffed, grabbing hold of his wrist as his grip tightened. " Is that what you call the woman who couldn't even look after the son she clearly never wanted?"

" Don't you dare fucking speak of her like that again, do you hear me?!" Tommy snapped, pushing her face away, causing her to stumble backwards onto the hardwood floors.

" Just like that then. She comes back and it's all over? " she said standing up, trying to compose herself from the embarrassment of Tommy's rejection.

" Just like that" Tommy replied, throwing his hand out and the burnt cigarette into the fire as he stormed past her heading for the door when she grabbed his arm.

" It was me who kept you company all the nights she abandoned you because she couldn't, cope. Me alone" she seethed, mocking you of the torment you had endured.

" What?..." Tommy laughed shaking his head as he looked down at her in disgust. " You thought you could replace my wife, eh?" Tommy said as he closed the gap between them, now inches from her face. " Sweetheart, you were just a fuck" he whispered in her ear as the Governess face twisted in fury, and she pushed past him storming to the door. " Don't think I don't know what your poisonous mind wants. You've long outstayed your welcome. Pack your things and be gone by the morning" Tommy said lighting another cigarette as the Governess span back around to confront him once again. He needed to be rid of her and quick, before you, his wife found out about his lapse in judgment with the most unsavory of women.

" You seem to have forgotten Tommy" she said as her lips curled into a triumphant smile. " I signed a contract written by you that's deadline doesn't end for another six months. And If the terms of that clause are not met. Well..." she said smirking as she crossed her arms, ready to deliver what she felt would have Tommy suddenly change his mind. " I'll go to the police, and spill all your little secrets"

" I own the fucking police love" Tommy laughed taking a drag of his cigarette, her threats but a mere annoying natter in his ear than anything worthy of his attention.

" Oh yes, you're very protected aren't you Tommy? Your dealings go as far up as Winston Churchill himself. What would the papers make of that? A man of government working with a razor gang?" she said with a giggle as Tommy's head snapped to her. "You really should have kept your correspondences out of sight while you had me bent over your desk, fucking your grief away" she spat opening the door as Tommy followed suit, furious his dealings and the business associates he wished to keep in tact, and away from prying eyes were now in jeopardy of falling apart over a few quick shags.

" Mrs Shelby, good evening" the Governess smirked, doing the buttons of her blouse up as you shut the nursery door behind you and she sauntered past.

"Y/N..." Tommy said as he came to an abrupt stop whilst you stood there in silence, yours eyes darting from his unbuckled belt to the sheepish look in his eyes not even he, the master of deception could mask.

Frances was right. Many things had changed in Arrow House. Many things.

PART THREE

Tag List: @garrison-girl-08 @call-sign-shark @red-riding-wood @look-at-the-soul @lau219 @peakyswritings @babaohhhriley @naevisct @galactict3a @satanhauntedmytorment @iwantmyredvelvetcupcake @kmc1989 @latorsgatorz @garfieldsladybird @mysticalbouquetwolf-posts @henrywintersdearestgirl @goblinjnr (unable to tag) @abaker74 @fuseburner @hummusxx @xvintageghostx (unable to tag) @sagecodm @isabbellagonzalezz88 (unable to tag) @girlwith-thepearlearring @minaxcarter (unable to tag) @cleverzonkwombatsludge @saltburnwhore @outlanderuniverse @anastacia-lynn @sofiblossom @akemiixx01 @thelastemzy @xxbeckybeexx-blog @cyphah @ireallydontcareanymorebrooo

#unchained melody #tommy shelby #thomas shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x reader insert #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby x fem!reader #cillian murphy #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby fanfiction #tommy shelby series #tommy shelby smut #peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders series #tommy shelby angst

[wandasfavreal]

Endless

Wanda x Fem!Reader

Summary: You’ve been studying and doing your homework all day without breaks, worrying Wanda a bit. And once you act up due to the pent up stress, she makes you take it back.

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Mommy!Wanda x Fem!Reader, dom/sub, fingering(r receiving), edging, spanking, humiliation & degradation, she’s so mean :((( but we love it

Noon came early as you sat on the couch, eyes fixated on the screen in front of you. You’ve been sitting there with your back arched in a terrible posture for hours, typing away on the computer situated on your lap. Every now and then you huffed out in irritation for not coming up with ideas quick enough to fit the minimal time you had left for this specific assignment. Luckily, it was due the next day and you had that sudden motivational rush that usually wouldn’t have come until the last minute. But of course you were still stressed for doing it so late when you previously had two weeks.

Your girlfriend, Wanda, was sitting beside you, reading over some of the emails on her phone as she found the sound of your keys being pushed down almost every second help ease her mind. However, she only felt that way when you first began this homework session… 5 hours ago.

For so long, she watched your concentrated expression with your bottom lip stuck between your teeth as your eyes barely blinked. Sure she could never get tired at looking at you, but seeing you in this state of pretty much rotting as you sat made her worried and uneasy. Wanda set her phone down beside her once she finished replying. She then sat up, facing and looking at you in a small attempt to get your attention.

You still didn’t notice her, despite the movements from her causing the couch to shift you as well and slightly shake the screen your eyes were glued to. Her arm stretched across as her hand comfortingly grasped your thigh. Sighing loudly, she spoke, “Honey, why don’t you get up and walk around or something? Or atleast go to the bathroom?”

Your head perked up as you heard her voice. “What? I’m fine, I’m almost like more than halfway done with this,” you replied, dismissing her and only moving your head back down to return to the engrossed writing. Her words went in one ear and out the other. Wanda wore a sullen expression since you’d usually always listen to her. So trying again, she softly rubbed your skin with her thumb.

“C’mon, you’re a smart girl. You’ll finish it in time with a small break.”

This time as she spoke to you with a silky tone, she was only met with more vexatious typing and the side of your face. The response irked Wanda as you completely ignored her, so deciding to take matters in her own hands, she stood up before her fingers made its way to the edge of the device and pushed the screen down. Then swiftly taking a hold and lightly tossing it to the other side of the couch out of your reach. It happened all so quickly that you couldn’t have even move your tired body to prevent it.

“Wanda, what the hell? I told you I was almost done,” you said as your voice rose, looking up at her with glower. She returned the look as the way you spoke made her feel worse about the situation. She tilted her head to the side, responding to you in a deep undertone.

“Almost done? You said that like an hour ago too.”

“Ok well whatever, just let me-“

“Fix your attitude before you talk to me,” Wanda interrupted you, her voice also rising and her mouth slightly gaped in disbelief because of your behavior. You’ve never really talked back before, so this was an utter shock to her. She noticed you cower a bit and become quiet upon hearing her scold, and it only made her want to take it further. “Get up.”

“What?”

“Just listen to me,” she said, aggressively yanking you up by the arm and dragging you through the house to your shared bedroom. You helplessly followed Wanda into the room before getting pushed onto the bed as she slammed the door. “Take off your clothes.”

Afraid of what she’d do if you didn’t listen, you did as she said. Wanda sat at the edge of the bed next to you with a glare, and waited for you to be done stripping. Once you were bare, she immediately got ahold of you, and roughly pulled you onto her. “Face down on my lap.”

Again, you listened, positioning yourself across her lap as your backend was faced up to her. You nervously looked back at her, wondering what she wanted to do with you… or to you. Soon enough she spoke, only staring at your tense body instead of your face. “You’re such a brat today… thinking you know what’s best for you. Do you think you can tell me right now what I should do to you?”

You turn your head back forward, ashamed to look at her. “I… I don’t know,” you timidly respond. Wanda found it amusing, how your voice shifted so quickly and easily once she had you.

“Of course you don’t. Your dumb little head can’t even think straight. Which is why mommy has to do all the work for you huh?”

You blushed profusely as you looked down, your mind becoming fuzzy already, and you squirmed slightly as she called herself that name. Wanda looked over to you, only to be met with the back of your head. She reached with one hand to make you turn, a loose grip on your face as she squished your cheeks a bit. “You think 30 is fair?”

The question obviously pointed you to the direction that she meant spanking, and you couldn’t help but pout. You nodded slowly, accepting your fate. And the moment you signaled yes, you squeaked as there was a quick slap to your bottom.

“Count for me.”

—————-

As you progressed to finishing 30 hits, each one became worst. You weren’t sure if it was Wanda intentionally going harder, or if it was just your ass becoming more sensitive. You shakily mumbled out every number as you let out small yelps, trying your best to not miscount and have to possibly start over. However, you couldn’t help but become aroused from the pain too. And Wanda noticed that.

Your final spank caused you to cry out, gripping onto the sheets beneath you. “Mm! T-Thirty…” you felt her hand begin to rub your heated flesh, soothing it as it stung. You caught up with your breathing, tiredly resting your head on your arm as Wanda kept her hands on you. It became oddly silent besides your small pants. Waiting for her to say something, you looked back again, this time seeing her look further down with a dark look in her eyes.

“Did you get off from me spanking you?”

The question caught you off guard and made your face heat up. She then took her hand that was closest to your end to your center, gently pressing her fingers against the warm soaked area. It made you gasp shortly, and Wanda’s following words didn’t make the fuzzy feeling in you any better.

“You’re so wet, and from what? Mommy hurting you?”

You whined as she teased your pussy, probing your entrance yet not fully going in. Being desperate, you wanted to agree and convince her of giving you what you wanted, but embarrassment filled you as she spoke to you that way. “N-No…”

She smiled tightly at you, letting one finger slip in and making you moan aloud. “So what did?” She continued asking, focused on the way your pretty hole swallowed her finger. You didn’t respond, not knowing how to as you already denied the truth. Another finger went into your wet cunt and made your head pathetically fall down against the mattress as your jaw fell.

Wanda took note of your silence, letting you off the hook for now. Her fingers moved incredibly slow for your taste. You began to squirm, making her to pull out and slap your ass again. Another cry came out of you. “Stop moving,” she sternly said. You listened with a sad look, only for her to put them back in you with that same torturous pace.

“Mommy…” you whined slightly, turning your head so your cheek rested on the comforter as you looked up at her. Your face had an adorable frown, your eyebrows pulled upward together. Wanda looked down at it, and the corner of her soft pink lips came up.

“What? You want me to go faster?”

“Mhm…” you responded, nodding your head shamefully. She still didn’t go faster though, just stared at you with a certain look as if she expected to hear something. Your brows raised as you realized and corrected yourself with a meek voice, “Please mommy.

She then quickened her movements, enjoying the way your body reacted to her. With your arms in front of you, you buried your face into the crevice of a limb, between the arm and forearm, as you moaned and breathed heavily. Her fingers pistoned into you, curling from time to time and hitting that spongey spot within you. You got louder and it wasn’t long until you needed to cum, especially since you were so turned on from both the spanking and the way Wanda talked to you. As if you were just a dumb little toy to her.

Wanda kept going, never once faltering until she felt your walls tightening around her. She looked over at you again, tearing her eyes away from the view of your pussy she loved so much. “Aw are you close baby?” She questions, sounding a lot more like her usual soft self. You nodded eagerly in response, your moans getting higher pitched. “Well hold it,” she spoke blatantly, the previous tone coming back in seconds. Despite her words, she didn’t let up her fingers pounding into you, as if she wanted to see you break and cum without her permission.

“M-Mommy, no i can’t- please,” you reply with a weak voice. Your body laid over her lap still, due to her other hand’s increasingly harsh grip to your side. But letting go, she trailed across your back and down to your chest, cupping your breast before squeezing roughly. The action made you even more dizzy, fisting the sheets once again. Wanting to cum so badly you got closer and closer to that euphoric feeling without thinking of the consequences up until Wanda pulled out of you swiftly. You mewled as she slapped you again, this time directly to your drenched cunt.

“You poor thing… can’t even listen to me. Just a selfish little whore.”

Your stomach couldn’t help but flutter hearing her vile words after hitting you repeatedly. And immediately after, she thrusted back into you, and your orgasm built up again. You attempted to push your hips back for her to stay inside and apply more pressure. The act had you shakily reach an arm behind you towards Wanda’s hand, trying to get a hold of it desperately to remain in your pussy, leading to her grabbing it aggressively and pinning it down against you back. She did keep herself inside though, just not moving a single muscle. Even as you got what you wished for, it felt even worst than being empty. Your tight walls squeezed around her, trying to milk out any sort of pleasure, but it was futile and your climax flowed away.

Wanda continued and every time she denied you, your hole ached more and you wailed from the growing pain of needing her. She kept this up for what felt like hours, over and over and… over again. It was endless.

By your sixth one, you grew more submissive with your clouded head and mindless begging. Tears tried to dry on your cheeks, but more just kept coming out. “T-Too much mommy… it hurts…” you whimpered as she hit a nerve inside your sensitive walls another time.

“Yeah? It’s too much for you? Too much for your needy little pussy?” She continued, her voice faking pity as her expression mocked yours. Her lip pouted while her brows furrowed, an innocent look for someone who was spilling such dirty words into your ears. For the past six edges she kept that contradiction going. Yet, you found it so attractive.

Her voice rang in your ears as the gasping and unsteady intake of air was becoming more intense. You clenched your teeth before opening your mouth and biting on your wrist instead to muffle your sounds and focus on the pain anywhere else but the area Wanda fucked. As she noticed you doing so, she reached out with her free hand to grasp your reddened face again, the force on your cheeks a lot harder now as you stopped sinking your teeth in your skin. She tapped on one side of your face to make you look at her. “You wanna cum?

“Please, please mommy- wan cum so bad for you,” you hiccuped, responding as quickly as you could. You looked up at her with those pleading eyes, glossed over from all the constant denial and spanks. Your body was burning from need.

She smiled sickly, tilting her head before saying, “I’ll let you if you tell me the truth… admit you love getting spanked by me and that you got wet from it.” Her voice dripped with sweetness in spite of what she was really saying. You whined once more, embarrassed and flushed at the thought of saying something like that aloud.

“But that’s-“

“Hurry before I change my mind and leave you like this.”

With a sheepish and red-faced expression, you shyly mumbled within Wanda’s hold, still feeling her fingers hit your favorite spot. “I-I love it when you spank me mommy, I love it so much…” Your eyes then shut as she suddenly jammed inside, seemingly lost control of herself from how you obeyed and just said it so prettily.

“Uh-huh, good girl…” she praised, looking between where you were taking her and your cute flustered face which soon scrunched up as your orgasm was finally going to be given to you. Wanda felt your walls trap her digits inside again. The tight feeling made her groan and slam into you harder. “Mhm, keep going baby.”

“I got wet from you hurting me mommy.. mm! P-Please mommy please M’ so close,” you stammered, no longer caring about what you were saying, just so incredibly needy. All you wanted was to please Wanda and release the pent up feeling within your shaking body. Wanda looked down at you with an open mouth, turned on with how obedient you were being now.

“There you go, princess. So so good for me… you can cum now. Yeah, cum all over mommy’s hand,” she cooed, going impossibly harder and curling at your g-spot. With her permission, you squealed and finally let go. Your body spasmed as heat traveled through and made you feel bundles of nerves bursting. Needing to hold onto her, one hand came down and gripped onto her leg.

She bit her bottom lip, finding the scene in front of her so hot. Her little girl sobbing into the sheets, cumming as your body was covered in marks from her inflicted pain. She loved it.

As you came down from your high, small pants and whimpers fell from your lips. Wanda’s hand soothingly rubbed your back, calming you down more. You turned to face her and saw how heart eyed she was. She smiled down at you before helping you get up as she lifted you from her lap. You pushed yourself up shakily with your arms and got to your knees beside her. The two of you shared a look as both set of eyes glanced down her stained thigh. You embarrassed, looked away until you heard a small laugh coming from the woman.

“Come here sweetie,” she said softly as her gentle gestures pushed you to get on her lap again, except now straddling her. Her hand was to your ass again, lightly pressing into it but still making you hiss from the sting. “How are you feeling?” She asked with a loving tone matching her expression.

“I’m okay mommy…” you replied quietly, feeling a little nervous under her stare. She grinned at you, cupping one side of your face, and kissing you in a gradual manner. You reciprocated the kiss, moaning against her lips which was curved upward still.

“See? Not so stressed anymore now, huh?” She questioned once her face pulled away. You pouted at the removal, but then frowned as guilt rushed through you from the reminder of earlier when you had upset her. You nodded your head timidly to her question until your eyes parted away from hers and muttered.

“I’m sorry…” you apologized. And even though your voice was barely loud enough for Wanda to hear, she knew what you were saying. Her hand from your bottom moved up to your waist as the other one gently moved to your face to signal you to look at her.

“Look at me when you speak,” she sweetly ordered, her voice lingering in your hazy mind. Your eyes came up to directly make eye contact. Her beautiful light green eyes softened, taking in your adorable state.

“I’m sorry for talking back and not listening mommy,” you repeated with a slightly pursed lip. You shifted on top of her a bit too.

“It’s okay, I know you were just trying to do your work,” she starts, gently applying pressure to your side. “And you’ll still finish before it’s due, don’t worry. You’re my best girl.” She leans up to peck your nose, making you melt from the cute action and reassurance. You shyly smiled and wrapped your arms around her neck, kissing her again. You loved how she was being, now not worried about anything except being good for her from now on. Though, you wouldn’t mind misbehaving once in while for a punishment you loved.

#wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #lesbian #mommy!wanda #elizabeth olsen #top!wanda #please please please #wanda x fem!reader #wanda x you

[yurislilygarden]

ʚїɞ Self Aware! Hazbin Hotel

ʚїɞ Their reaction after becoming self aware and first thoughts about reader! part 1

ʚїɞ Alastor and Lucifer Morningstar

ʚїɞ Keep in mind English is not my first language, so you may find mistakes!

ʚїɞ Word count: just about 1.7k

ʚїɞ I planned for all hotel characters first but then I realized how much I'm thinking on each paragraph and its details that I decided to just do 2-3 charas per part😭

Very few characters would notice something wrong on the first watch of the show, but wouldn't realize, nor become self-aware until the 2nd or further watch. 

While everyone's reaction would be different with different amounts of stages before total acceptance of the situation, they all would share the first emotion, simple disbelief. They would first need to even process the fact that they're not real, that they were created solely for the purpose of entertaining… something? Someone? In a completely different Universe. That everything that they thought had happened to them before they died didn't actually happen, they were never alive in the first place. Only after that did the emotions and reactions differ. The very first emotion or actual personal reaction would be:

ALASTOR

Irritation with a hint of madness.

His first thoughts about the situation would be how ironic it is that he seeks entertainment for himself while his own person, no, character, was a source of entertainment for whatever was watching them from time to time. It was quite ironic how he said that his face was made for radio when the truth couldn't be further from that. He was literally created solely to be watched on that funny colored box by… whatever was watching him and the others.

He was irritated at not noticing that something was wrong immediately, now he thinks about how blind he was, how obvious everything was. The city is actually quiet, too quiet when the noise and demons aren't needed, when they're not meant to be heard. Nothing actually happened that one time when he was out for a fix of his coat, it just got magically fixed, he went and came back when someone else decided he was to do so. They didn’t have much actual free will when he thought about it and that's what he was mad about. He thought that his deal was a massive problem to him, oh how wrong he was because the problem was you.

He doesn't know how he or the others didn't notice the small, glowing butterfly flying above their heads from time to time. They couldn't be that blind, could they? The little crystal thing (could he break it?) must have done something to be unnoticed for so long. He wondered how long they were watched for, the little thing above their heads seemed to be speaking sometimes, seemingly knowing what would happen… at least he thought so, the words would cut out so often that he was left with a pure guess at one point.

He didn't want to accept that he wasn't real, that he was just a 2D character with the sole purpose of entertaining someone. He was meant to be the one entertained, not you. But he couldn't actually do anything, could he? For sure not until more of the people he knew were aware. 

That's also something that he noticed. When it came to the hotel staff and guests, he seemed to be the only one who realized the situation at first. It took a few times of some events repeating before he noticed that someone else from the hotel was noticing the little crystal butterfly above their heads as well. 

Alastor seemed to be the first, or one of the very first people who noticed that something was wrong. He wasn't sure if someone realized before him, and if they did then who, but he was somewhat glad that he could finally discuss the topic at least a little once the other hotel patrons found out about the truth. He isn't one to really open up in any way, but this was a matter where he had to communicate with the others.

You. He didn’t know what to think of you at first. He did see you in a more negative light at first, under many emotions hitting him at once which he hated but after he calmed down, he started thinking. At first, he was sure you were some sick person seeking entertainment from the suffering of others, and yeah he was doing pretty much the same, but were you really alike when he wasn’t even real and you were? He was pretty sure that he’s never gonna get used to saying that.

Over time, when he stopped overthinking (he’s gonna deny that he was doing that till the day of his 2nd death), he noticed a few changes. The less negative his posture and thoughts were about you, even if neutral, the more he was able to find out. Alastor was able to pick up more than a few words whenever you talked, he was able to hear you talking clearly enough to recognize a possible gender, and something he wasn’t sure that he wanted to think about, it was way easier to pick up your emotions in your words.

I feel like he would be more lenient towards you if it turned out you were a female (or identified as one), but that would be the mama’s boy inside of him talking. There wouldn’t be too many differences of course, but those who spent enough time around him would be able to tell there's a difference after finding out your gender if it turned out you weren’t a man (again, not too much but it IS noticeable).

He would go from lowkey hating you at first to being mostly neutral with a hint of positive light as you seemed to do nothing but watch, up until later on when everyone is self-aware as well and would talk about the whole thing. Only then would the feelings towards you, the little watcher, as he first called you, turn more positive.

LUCIFER

Massive inner conflict and a complete mix of emotions

He didn’t know what to think. It was hard to comprehend that he didn’t actually live for as long as he thought, that all the things that supposedly happened, in fact never were even close to happening, they were just… a scripted past. 

Was all his suffering for nothing? Was it there just to entertain someone? Did those things who watched them enjoy seeing them sad and hurt? He was simply lost on what to think about the whole situation, it wasn't something that he could prepare himself for in any way beforehand. 

He was disappointed in himself for not noticing immediately or at least faster that something was not right. He's the literal King of hell! Even if… only in a show apparently… but he still is. No one better say anything about that because he's already on the brink of a yet another breakdown. He cannot take much more.

Should he try doing something about this? Or should he stay quiet and go with the script as he's supposed to? He wasn’t sure about the answer himself and had no one to answer his questions. The thought that what he thought were eons of life was actually a lie was… a little terrifying. Who knows just how much can someone force them to do without caring for their opinions because they don’t know that he and the others are aware of everything now, how much can you cause without their consent? He wasn’t sure if you or anyone else knew about them being self-aware or not.

He would actually try to ignore the little butterfly whenever he would see it, but at the same time, many questions were swirling in his mind.

Why were you around? Did you like to see them suffering? Did you have any control over what you saw? Did you have some sort of control over them? Did you have plans regarding them? Did you-

Yeah, again, he has a lot of questions and absolutely zero answers.

His personal feelings about you were all around at first. Not sure whether he should hate, dislike, or be generally negative about you, be more neutral, or be on the more positive side, especially since you didn't seem to do anything but watch them. Like it's all that you could do when it comes to them, but he couldn't be 100% sure.

Similarly to Alastor, he would be one of the characters who noticed something wrong on the first watch of the show before becoming self-aware quite soon after that. I don't think he, nor Alastor, would notice the other knows too fast, since both try to act like nothing's wrong around others. He did not want to be just a 2D character, something to be watched on a screen. It was… humiliating, in his eyes. He could tell that Charlie and the others weren't aware of anything at first so he didn't speak about it until later on when he was sure that they came to their senses, as he would like to say.

He wondered how long were you actually there before he, or anyone else, started to see or notice you, especially since he could literally hear you. Both as the small insect and the occasional words he was able to pick up. And that's if he was to forget the butterfly was literally, softly fucking glowing. Yeah, they're all blind.

I think that if you’re on the younger side, (which technically is any age a human can be alive at compared to him lmao) he would be a little softer, especially if you're similar to his daughter in character. It would come from the paternal side of his, you would probably remind him of Charlie so much :(

He would be more on the negative side at first, as much as he wishes he didn't straight up assume how you were as a person, it took some time but he went into the more neutral zone before being positive about you after being able to hear more of you talking, as he was able to at least have more idea about your character and wasn't completely clueless like at the start.

Your nickname also got changed to something else, something cuter over time, as Alastor’s name for you, little watcher, was deemed not good enough by everyone (Lucifer's words)

Notes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated

#SAHHA #Ig thats the name for this now #unless something like this exists and has a name #why did i think so much on one goddamn paragraph #this does not need as much brain power as i used nuh uh #but at least im satisfied with the end product #ngl I feel like i fucked up luci's character #alastor's not too bad but i feel like I didn't do too well with our dear duck loving king #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel #hazbin #lucifer x reader #lucifer x you #lucifer x y/n #alastor x reader #alastor x you #alastor x y/n #self aware hazbin hotel

[hanasnx]

MINORS DNI 18+

MODERN!ANAKIN SKYWALKER who's got a bit of a situationship with you. It's not like him, he's very new to it all and its rules, which means some key details get lost in translation with him. For most, the "talking" stage consists of the ability to still see other people during, keeping your options open so to speak. For Anakin, he expects a sort of unspoken faithfulness he had no reason to define until now.

Now, as he stares at two words. "she's busy." A text he's been deliberating over for an inappropriate amount of time. What could possess another person to answer your texts for you? A glance to your contact name confirms it, just in case he was losing his mind. He kinda wishes he was. He taps your name, and calls you. Three rings. An answer on the other line, that is most certainly not you, invades his ears.

"Yo," the deep voice says and Anakin doesn't say a word as he hangs up. Without a second thought, he pulls up your Snap Map which you've stupidly left on. You do that a lot. Sometimes he checks on you only to see what you're up to. Some days he watches your little Bitmoji happy on it's map at that little cafe you like, and he calls you to see if you'll tell him the truth of where you are.

He gets in his car, and tracks you down.

His fingers drum against the steering wheel, just like his fist drums against the front door when he gets there. It shakes the whole fucking house. He takes a step back, resting his hands on his hips, and his tongue forms over his upper lip.

The door opens, and he comes face to face with the guy he presumes texted him, and answered the phone. This is his place. "Can I help you?" he questions with an attitude Anakin doesn't fucking care for at all.

"I don't wanna talk to you, I wanna talk to her." Blunt as ever, Anakin comes off as unstable to your companion, who obviously bucks up in your defense.

"The fuck? No. What do you think this is?" he responds, and the escalation of raising voices causes you to recognize who your friend is talking to. So you come downstairs, and see that familiar head of golden curly hair.

"Anakin?" you question in disbelief, slowing your descent down the stairs. At your arrival, Anakin's attention completely shifts onto you.

"Hey." He nods up. "We need to talk." His finger points to the space in front of him, as if calling you over like a dog. Oddly and subconsciously compelled, you make your way closer to him. Your friend's arm rests on the door frame, cutting in between you two. Apparently he didn’t want Anakin slipping inside. You only notice how much taller he is compared to your friend. If he wanted to, he’d put him on his ass with a well-placed one-handed push. You try not to think about that now as you approach, standing directly behind your friend’s elbow.

“What the hell are you doing here?” At the end of your sentence, Anakin’s massive hand snatches your upper arm, and your friend goes to separate the two of you with a commotion of “woah, woah!” You appease him, tell him it’s alright, that you’ve gotta take care of this, and allow yourself to be drawn away from the door step and closer to the street.

Once he has you where he wants you, he releases you, and you jostle from the loss of support. That hand wipes down his face, the most irritable you’ve ever seen him, and he gestures to you as he steps closer, “If you’re pulling this shit, let’s just call it.” he tells you, dismissing entirely the existence of the man who owns this house.

The crease in your brows deepen. “I don’t know what you’re talking about—“

“You do, and if I’m competing with other guys I don’t want any fucking part in it.” The towering figure before you stoops to get eye level with you, “Either get smart or fuck off, alright?” You hate to say that his low voice sends shivers down your spine.

His direct ultimatum makes you indignantly blink at him, taken aback at his sheer tenacity as you weigh out the options. He doesn’t give you enough time, scoffing at you, and turning his back on you. As if he could be so bold as to expect to be the only one you’re talking to, expect to treat you this way.

And yet, somehow, you end up back at his place. Impossibly fat cock driving into your insides as he picks you up by your hips into his thrusts. Knelt onto the bed, he rocks forward, while your cervix is getting bruised into submission. You squirm, arching your back off the bed with your pretty legs stuck straight into the air. “Who’s fucking pussy is this, huh? Who’s fucking pussy is this?” Skin smacks skin, harder than before. His tongue forms over his upper lip, brows pinched in focus as he fucks you like he means to beat you into the shape of his dick.

You don’t even hesitate. “Yours!” You whimper. “Yours, Ani, all yours.” You’re lifted almost entirely off the mattress, he straps his hands over your thighs to keep your ass pinned to his abs that sheen with sweat. Cunt stuffed to the brim as he relentlessly bullies it, creating an empty fucking vacuum that screams at you every time he pulls out. You really are fucking obsessed with this entitled behemoth of a man and what he can do to your body in a few strokes.

“That’s fucking right, baby, and don’t you forget it.”

#cw toxic relationship #indy: drabbles #ch: modern!anakin #anakin skywalker drabble #anakin drabble #anakin smut #anakin skywalker smut #anakin x reader #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin x reader smut #anakin skywalker x reader smut #anakin x fem reader #anakin skywalker x female reader #anakin x you #anakin skywalker x you #anakin x y/n #anakin skywalker x y/n #anakin fic #anakin fanfiction #anakin skywalker fic #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin imagine #reader insert

[necroflame]

On the Way to a Smile (Dark!Rafe Cameron x F!Reader)

Paring: Dark!Rafe Cameron x F!Reader

Summary: On the cusp of your wedding, you are haunted by a shade from your past who just can't seem to leave you alone.

Warnings: Implied non-con, drugging, loss of virginity, original characters, wedding crashing, possessive behaviour, flashbacks, bullying, substance use, cheating, implied eating + body image issue (18+)

🦇gill – "I made a story board for this on pinterest if anyone is interested, this is my first dark fic + semi smut so any feedback would be very appreciated! I also included some linked visuals but that's only how I imagined things to look, you can follow your own destiny." 🌬 17k (buckle up ya'll)

i.

"What's all this?"  

Strewn across the Cameron's dining table was an array of objects that could only be described as a mixed blessing. Multiple binders containing silk swatches protruding from the edges, sticky notes with potential dietary requirements, and different flora species – planning a wedding was less of a journey and more of a ride. 

Averting your burning eyes from your laptop screen, you acknowledged Rafe with a cordial smile, lazily gesturing to the conglomeration of wedding itinerary. 

"My future." 

The blonde simply hummed, eyes narrowing as he leisurely rounded the dark oak to stand beside you. He silently lingered there for a moment, ring-clad fingers dancing across the drafted invitations with an indecipherable expression. 

"Where's Sarah? Ain't she supposed to be helping you with all this shit?" 

You refrained from rolling your eyes. Rafe was, after all, a friend of the family, and by extension earned your respect. Even If he could be a complete dick–

"I am helping, thank you very much!" 

Sarah's voice, now tinged with irritation, reverberated from the pantry before she emerged with a bag of microwave popcorn. "What do you have to offer other than giving us a headache?" A deep crease settled between her brows as she threw her flaxen locks into a low ponytail, setting the bag into the microwave. 

"Well you see, Sarah, I'm a man with a fine eye for detail." He prodded his haughtily puffed chest which Sarah scoffed at, glancing towards you with disbelief. 

"Says the boy who'd be leaving the house with his shoelaces undone were it not for Wheezie." 

"Now you're just making shit up–"

"Both of you, please!" With an exasperated sigh, you cradled your throbbing temples in the seat of your palms. "If you're going to argue, do it somewhere else."

Ding!

A much-needed reprieve from the stifling tension in the room, the microwave beeped, signalling that the popcorn was ready. However, the pause was short-lived. As soon as the timer stopped, the silence was disrupted by Rafe's voice. His tone mocking and derisive.

"Ordering me around in my own house, hm?" His short, dirty blonde locks cascaded over his eyes as he shook his head, failing to conceal his lour. "Nah, that's not how it works sweetheart. Maybe I'd allow it if you were marrying me."

"Rafe." Sarah hissed. "Shut up and get out."

In the typical fashion of the first-born Cameron, Rafe disregarded his sister's command, instead opting to leer down at you like some voracious beast reading to trap you in its gaping maw. 

"So where's the lucky man? He got to stake his claim, now he's leaving all the work for you?" 

You ignored his taunts, for that was what they were. He fed off reactions like a leech. You had come to realise this over the years as he evolved into an obnoxious variant of the boy you once admired. Rather than giving him the attention he craved so dearly, you turned your focus to Sarah as she came to sit beside you. 

"If you must know, he's working to pay off his student loans," You fought the urge to bite back at his spiteful remarks, ultimately losing when you added; "Maybe one day when you take care of your responsibilities, you will understand."

Sarah suppressed her snot beneath a mouthful of popcorn. As you reached for a handful of your own, a hand slid in between, suddenly pushing the bowl out of reach. 

"Careful." Rafe drawled warningly, pointing to a trumpet silhouette dress advertised in a women's magazine you had circled with a red marker. "That dress is real pretty, it would be a shame if you outgrew it."

ii.

It was winter, 2006. 

You were five, perched on your mother's lap in the front seat of your father's Chrysler 300C as she consoled you through hiccuping sobs. This Christmas, the esteemed Camerons were your family's special holiday destination; a far cry from the usual dinner and movie at your grandparents.

Numerous road signs were posted throughout Figure 8, warning drivers to approach the winding roads with caution due to the unusually high levels of sleet. Despite the treacherous conditions, your father traversed along as he usually would. You whimpered and pawed at your mother's blouse in a bid to be reassured, but she merely shushed you.

"Don't worry, baby. You're safe."

As you pulled up along a circular drive encompassed by large plains of neatly trimmed verdure, a house came into view… if you could even call it that.

 A quadruple frontage acting as a supporting beam for the large balcony above donned with red, white and blue flags and multiple seating arrangements. On the right side of the glass entry doors was a metal plaque spelling 'Tannyhill' 

You beamed up at the place in awe. "Is this a castle?" 

Your father chuckled, ruffling your loose hair. 

"Something like that."

A man emerged from the double doors, dressed in the typical 'low-key' Figure 8 attire: white slacks, a chequered shirt, and leather loafers. He was a splitting image of your father and all the other men on the island, carrying an aura of confidence in every sedate step.

You were urged out of the car with a gentle but firm push. The strange man’s beady eyes— like two pale corks screwed into his head— landed on you disconcertingly, as though you were a microorganism being inspected beneath a scope. 

"Hello, little one." His eyes crinkled as he smiled, bending down to your level. "What's your name?"

Your young mind could not fathom why he frightened you like the animated villain in your favourite TV show. When he extended his hand to you, you instinctively retreated into your mother's skirt.

"Don't mind her, Ward." Your father emerged from the driver’s side of the vehicle. "She'll warm up real fast if you offer her something sweet."

"A sweet tooth?" The man, Ward, mused. His voice mild-mannered and pleasant to the ear. "My son is the same, I'm sure you'll get along just fine."

Inside, the house was even more impressive. Tannyhill had been the proud ancestral home of the Cameron family for generations and their wealth and prestige were evident in the sheer opulence of its interior. The walls of the hallway were draped in thick upholstery, varying in shades of crimson, indigo and gold. An ornate floral pattern embroidered in gold thread was meticulously sewn onto the walls. 

Adorning the hallway to the kitchen were multiple picture frames. One in particular caught your interest; a young boy sat on Ward's lap in a velvet-lined chair, smiling and well-groomed with golden locks and a well-pressed collar. 

You wondered if this was the aforementioned son.

Ward's explanation of the Plantation's historical significance fell on deaf ears as you gaped up at the towering ceilings. Your mother attempted to conceptualise it for you through the metaphor of an onion; Tannyhill was composed of multiple layers of history, each integrating to create the rich heritage value of the place. 

"You came here once when you were just a little bean in my belly."

"I don't remember that."

She pulled you into her side by the shoulder as she laughed. "Of course you don't, darling." 

Ward came to a halt at the staircase, raising a finger to his lips.

"Sarah's nursery is upstairs. We just got her down before you arrived but I'll let you have a peek."

 "Oh, that’s alright, Ward. We wouldn't want to disturb her." Your father interjected, mirroring Ward’s hushed tone.

"That won't be an issue, my angel is a heavy sleeper," he whispered, motioning for you to follow him with a reassuring wave of his hand.

“Rafe's up there at the moment,” Confusion enveloped you as a frown settled in place of his previous jovial demeanour. When his stiffened gaze met yours, heat bloomed beneath your cheeks and you perked up. “Maybe you can keep him company, little one." 

The first door on the right was painted a light, dusty rose. Above the door frame were little wooden letters decorated by fairies and flowers spelling out ‘Sarah’. The dry hinges screeched as Ward opened the door.

“Rafe, come meet our guests.” 

The boy from the picture emerged, older now and taller than expected. Unlike the bright smile he wore in the photograph, there was not a trace of joy on his face. But despite his gloomy demeanour, there was a certain charm about him that you couldn't help but notice.

Beautiful, he’s beautiful. 

“Hello.” He said robotically, as though the syllables were being tugged out of his mouth by an invisible wire. 

Ward glared disapprovingly at his son. There was a silent exchange between the two before Rafe finally sighed as if submitting to some sort of inevitable conclusion.

“Merry Christmas, it’s nice to meet you all.” 

His eyes met yours. Crystal orbs of cerulean, framed by a dark outer ring… you were transfixed by his beauty. 

You sat mutely at dinner, only answering direct questions with the bare minimum of words. Mrs Cameron was a lovely and welcoming woman who did her best to include you in the conversation despite your reluctance to participate. Rafe's occasional snarky remarks seemed to anger Ward. His face would darken each time and he would glare in his son's direction with a look of disapproval. The tension between the two was thick, oozing onto you from across the table. You made eye contact with Rafe a few times. He held it with no indication of discomfort whilst you were always the one to eventually flit your attention elsewhere, unable to withstand the strange intensity. 

As the maids began to clear the table, Ward suggested to both you and Rafe, “Go and play while us adults have our talk.”

With the sun making a hasty departure below the treeline in the distance, It had cooled off exponentially outside. You trailed behind Rafe as he led you to a small shed next to the pool, struggling to tug your gloves over trembling fingers. 

You waited outside as Rafe disappeared beyond the frame, returning a few moments later with a black and white ball.

“Do you know how to play?”

The ball was familiar but you shook your head, unsure of the rules. 

“Don’t touch the ball with your hands or make contact with me.” 

“Make contact?” You tilted your head in confusion. 

“You can’t kick your enemy on purpose, got it?”

You gave a nod– still unsure about why you’d want to kick anyone on purpose– and Rafe tossed the ball at you. The ground was partially frozen beneath your feet and you stumbled backwards with the sudden force of the ball, nearly toppling over. 

“Good, let's play.” 

At first, it felt hopeless as your feet slipped on the icy ground cartoonishly. Rafe’s size, strength and experience did not deter him from going full pelt, and it quickly became apparent that the only way you could gain any leverage over him was if you were to be sneaky– which of course, was easier said than done. 

Every pivot of your foot he anticipated. His agile movements made it nearly impossible to bypass him and you found yourself huffing in frustration as he swiftly confiscated the ball from your weak stance. 

“This is not fair!” You cried exasperatedly, ego depleted after numerous failures.

“You’ve got to try harder if you want to beat me.” 

Rafe’s arrogant tone only stoked the flames of your wrath. Slowing down, you realised that your frantic footwork before an attack left your defences vulnerable. Watching Rafe’s strategy, you could see that he was coming head-on, anticipating that you would focus your resources on an attack. 

This time rather than barreling towards him head-on, you hunkered down into a low stance, turning slightly and awaiting his arrival. Once within range, you swiftly kicked your right foot out, connecting with the ball. It shot through his legs, the suddenness of your attack delaying his reaction ever so slightly, allowing you ample opportunity to rush past him and possess the ball. 

After the shock wore off and Rafe turned to face you, his face was adorned by a countenance of surprise. “Wow, not bad.” 

“Got you!” You giggled, spinning around in glee. 

“You’re more fun than Sarah.” Rafe earnestly remarked. “She never wants to play. All she does is sleep and cry.”  

“I like playing with you.” 

The corners of his lips tugged upwards, his dour demeanour melting away into a softer grin. 

“Let’s try something different.” He suggested, your stomach clenching in apprehension at the mischievous glint in his eyes.

“...Ok.” 

“You stand over there,” He pointed to a small clearing between two trees, “That is the goal. You have to try and protect it.” 

“Ok.” You giggled, heart thumping in rhythm with your hasty steps. 

“Ready?”

You gave a thumbs up and he backed up. Once he was pleased, he took an initial calculative step before thundering towards the ball, sending it soaring through the air. You were sure that it would not make contact with you as it was well above your head. However, after it had risen, it quickly descended back down with the speed and precision of a hunting eagle. It slammed into the edge of your brow, making contact with a surprising amount of force. Your legs gave way under the pressure as you clutched the spot where the ball hit, eyes tearing up from the impact.

“Ow.” Your voice wobbled as you cradled your head. 

“Oh, oops.” Rafe rushed to kneel beside you, gingerly lifting your chin to inspect your face. “Are you ok?” 

You didn’t respond, and when he noticed the tears welling up in your eyes, his entire body stiffened. 

“Hey, hey, hey. Don’t cry, you’re ok.” 

Blinking furiously, you managed to keep it together, but your voice came out as a dry croak. “Am I bleeding?”

“Nah, it’ll just be a little bruise. Nothing to worry about.” 

His assurance dampened your concern, and you nodded. “Even though that really hurt, I still won. The ball didn’t pass the trees!” 

Rafe began to chuckle but was abruptly disturbed by the click of the back door. Your mother called your name into the still air. Sniffling, you brushed your hair back into place when his tight grip clasped onto your shoulders, stilling your frantic movements. 

“I was saving this for later,” His voice was hushed now as he removed a lollipop from his back pocket. “But it’s yours if you promise not to tell.” 

Wiping the corner of your eyes, you smiled, “Alright.”

iii.

You froze in front of the mirror.

Floor length, delicately laid seams stretching taut against soft curves, the colour perfectly harmonious with your undertones– The dress was a beautiful testament to how far you've come, like a chain binding the past and the present together.

There was just one issue…it wouldn’t zip up the whole way. 

You urged the seamstress to keep trying, tugging the resistant zip until it eventually gave way. It didn't, and on one particularly harsh tug, the zip got caught and pinched your flesh. You hissed, and she apologised before releasing it down and backing off. 

“Your wedding is in a week?” She inquired, glancing over your frame insouciantly.

“Yes, Saturday week.”

“I should be able to add some alterations to the back in that time.” 

Her attempt at assuaging you was futile – your mind could only focus on the wheel of possibilities, endlessly spinning. “What if there’s nothing you can do? Or the alteration destroys the style of the dress? Is there another alternative?” 

Her smile was solemn as she met your frantic gaze in the reflection. “Well, I suppose the only other suggestion I can make is to move more and eat less.”

You pressed your lips together before stepping out of the changing room into the harshly lit waiting space. Your mother’s eyes immediately widened as she shot off the couch with a mixture of admiration and concern concocting within her irises.  

“Oh, Darling. The dress is beautiful, but you don’t look happy. What’s the matter?”

“There is a slight issue…with the back.” The seamstress sighed, urging you to turn. 

Your mother attempted to stifle her gasp beneath a freshly manicured hand. She skittered forward brushing delicate fingers over the fabric, prodding and pushing at the broad opening. 

“Mum,” You groaned. “Just be honest with me, how bad is it?” 

“Well, it’s about two inches so it’s not unnoticeable.” A crease formed in her brow as she inspected you, momentarily stuck in thought. “Have you considered styling your hair down?” 

“Yes, but that's not going to fix the issue.” 

She nodded, turning her attention to the seamstress, “Ma’am, I am willing to pay the price to have my daughter's dress prioritised.” 

Before she could even consider the request, the familiar chime of your phone rang out, breaking your dazed stupor. As you peered at the screen, the name vibrantly lighting it up like a lighthouse beacon made you deeply exhale. 

“Sorry, I’ll just answer this.”  

“Is it Thomas?” Your mother’s ears piqued up in interest as you shuffled back to the changing room, her thin lips stretching into a downward crescent.

“Don’t sound more excited than me, mum.”

You swiped the accept button on the call after clicking the lock shut. “Hey sweetheart, how’s it going at the shop?” 

A pit swelled within your stomach. “Things could be better.”

“Is there an issue? Last time you couldn’t have sounded happier.” Thomas’s voice was laced with concern, the image of his deep-set frown and fidgeting fingers flashing into your mind.

“I mean, it’s nothing that can’t be fixed. Just a minor issue with the beading.”

“Alright then, so it could be worse? Regardless, I’m certain you look beautiful.”

“You’re kind of required to say that, y’know, as my fiance.” You whispered timorously.

“Required or not doesn’t make a difference if I mean it all the same.”

The impressive weight of the dress’s train dragged the bodice down with it as it cascaded into a pile of limbs on the floor. A chuffed smile melded onto your face. “Was there any real purpose to this call?” 

“Depends on what you count as purposeful. I wanted to hear my beautiful fiancé’s voice…and ask what other plans she has for the day?”

This time you snorted. Thomas was always vying for your attention. “I’m supposed to be meeting Edie at the club for lunch. She’s afraid you’ll hog up all my attention after the wedding and plans to get me drunk so she can find out all your dirty secrets.” 

“Well she’s not wrong about the first part,” He heartily chuckled. “But try not to reveal too much, I think we’ve had enough rumours spread about us for a lifetime.”

“I’ll do my best. Anyway, I probably should get going, I’m already running late.”

“Alright, I’ll see you later then. I love you.”

“Love you too.”

Your mother resumed her position on the plush white couch while she waited for you, snapping up as you beckoned for her towards the entrance. She stalked closely behind your tail, approaching warily as you headed to your car. 

“We discussed options on how the dress could be altered. It seems like the quickest solution will be to make it backless.”

“Honestly at this point, I don’t really care,” A heavy and tired sigh escaped your lips as you unlocked your car. “As long as it fits, that's all that matters to me.” 

“Darling,” Her cold grasp caught your arm, forcing you to face her. “I know how you get. Your mind is all over the place, I can see it in your eyes.”

“It’s fine mum. I gave up on perfection a long time ago.” 

“Either way, this is your big day and I want you to enjoy it. Don’t let this small mishap ruin it for you, alright?” She sagely advised, soothingly rubbing your shoulders. 

“Ok, I won’t. Promise.” Though the smile was forced, you didn’t have it in you to counter her pleading eyes. She hugged you firmly, planting a kiss on your cheek as you parted ways. 

The country club was brimming with familiar faces, each passing by with a nod of the head. In all honesty, you couldn’t remember half of their names, only being acquainted through your parents. Etiquette was an expected part of the club, though, so you returned their superficial pleasantries with an equally superficial smile. 

The dining hall was occupied by an elderly couple sharing hushed whispers beside the far right window and a group of young men ravenously devouring their meals after an afternoon playing golf. 

However, there was no sign of Edie. 

Allowing your intuition to guide you through the hive-like hallways of the facility, you eventually ended up at the outdoor bar overlooking the course green. That was where you found her; firey tresses flowing loosely over her shoulders, hunched over the bartop as she swirled a glass of glistening rosè. 

“I see you started without me.” 

Without having to turn she squealed as the sound of your voice carried over to her, attracting the attention of curious onlookers. “You made it! I was starting to think you’d bailed on me…again.”

“Ed, that was months ago. I think it’s time we move on.”

She hummed and with a light giggle tapped the stool beside her. “Only if you let me buy you a drink and promise not to complain about the heat.”

“Deal.” 

Nothing ever changed with Edie. Some people would describe her as immature, solidly stuck in the same old adolescent patterns of staying out late, drinking to the point of blacking out and entertaining unsuitable partners based on her attraction to them. But despite the opinion of others, her consistency came as a comfort to you. She knew how to have fun, and this energy never ceased to rub off on you.

“Now I know you’re probably sick of hearing it,” Already knowing where this was going, you rolled your eyes to emphasise how you felt about this turn in the conversation. Her voice was slightly slurred at this point, having gone through half a bottle of prosecco together. If you didn’t keep your wits about you, your tongue would soon become looser than you wished. 

 “But I have to ask–”

“Ed.” Your tone was firm. 

“Are you sure about this?” 

You sighed, leaning back in the stool like a beleaguered outpost, utterly surrendered and defenceless against her heavy onslaught. 

“The amount of times you’ve asked me this is making me think you just don’t like him.”

“Babe, you know it’s more complicated than that.” She gently clasped your hand. “If you’re happy, I’m happy, promise…even with his track record.” 

Your muscles stiffened, weighing you down like a heavy stone in your seat. “We put that behind us many years ago.”

“Well yeah,” She reticently continued. “I guess I’m still in the process of forgiving him, though.”

“If I can then I’m sure you have it in you.”

Her viridian eyes continued to pierce into you as she tilted her glass up to glossed lips. Sensing the finality in your tone, she nodded. 

“So, are you?”

“Am I what?” You chortled incredulously. 

“Happy!”

“Yes! Trust me if I wasn’t you’d be the first one to hear about it.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” She shimmied her shoulders with a giggle, the previously heavy aura dissipating and being charioted away by the breeze. 

The debate over your love life has been a perpetual thorn in your side for many years. People liked to voice their opinions as though your life was paltry gossip they could pass on to their hairdresser. But not many took the time to consider your perspective, your feelings, your anguish. 

Edie geared the topic of discussion to her latest rendezvous. A welcome change. Her sporadic lifestyle always kept you on your toes, considering there had been no major updates in your life for some time now... well, aside from the engagement of course. With the warm buzz pulsating through your veins, nothing could disturb the serene ambience of the club.

Almost nothing. 

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t the two finest women on this island.” Kelce, and that could only mean–

“And if it isn’t our favourite troublesome trio. What brings y'all here this evening?”

Rafe lingered behind his posse like a shadow, his feathery locks tucked beneath a dull grey cap. Though his eyes were shielded by black-out shades, you could sense the burning heat of his gaze from a mile away– your body well attuned to it. 

“Only the same as you two of course. Mind if we join you?”

“Sorry boys, but it’s kind of a girl’s night.” You quickly interjected, masking the unease in your tone with a fleeting smile. 

Edie groaned your name, “Come on, the more the merrier.”

“Yeah come on,” Rafe echoed petulantly. “It’s been a while since we last hung out.” And you got the feeling he wasn’t talking about the rest of them.

Kelce and Topper occupied the two stools adjacent to Edie, leaving the last available seat directly beside you. Rafe was entirely isolated from the group, nursing a bitterly scented beer, and you had become his sole companion.

His stool made an awful scraping sound as he encroached on your personal space. The thick, solid weight of his thigh nudging into yours caused you to flinch and you could have sworn he smirked at the. 

“So, how’ve you been?” He lazily drawled and you didn’t miss the way he blatantly zeroed in on your ring. 

“The same as always Rafe, but I can’t say that bothers me.”

“No? Y’know that surprises me, you were always so…adventurous. Didn’t think you’d settle for the housewife lifestyle so soon.” 

“You of all people should know that others can change.” You argued with a morose huff.

“Yeah, but not you.” His chuckle was merely a blank imitation of humour, shamelessly inauthentic.  

“This is kind of unfair. You seem to know my whole life story while I can barely piece yours together these days.” 

“You wanna know what I’ve been doing?” You nodded and he slouched back against the bar stool, taking a hefty swig of his beer and removing his shades with a flick of the wrist. 

“I was at the shops recently, saw your mum,”

“...Ok?” You scoffed, struggling to see the relevance. 

“She says you’ve been acting strange lately, distant, that true?” 

“She always thinks I’m acting strangely.” She also apparently likes to gossip about my personal life.

“Thing is,” He paused for a moment, grimacing as if struggling to formulate the proper words. You knew better. Nothing Rafe did was without reason. “She’s under the impression it’s got something to do with the big day.”

“The big day, are you kidding me?” 

Your heart synchronised with the beat of the music, drowning out all other immaterial noise as it pounded slow and steady in your ears. For the first time that evening, you dared a glimpse into Rafe’s eyes, immediately noticing his pupils dilated to the size of pennies.

“Jesus– Rafe,” You hissed, snatching his chin between your fingers. “I thought you gave up on that shit.”

“Always worryin’ about me.” A humourless laugh floated from his hollow chest. Cool silver dug into the supple flesh of your wrist as he gently pried your hand away. With a bated breath, you snatched the limb from his grasp. 

“Yeah, well someone has to.” You scoffed. Remanence of snow dusted his collar and without thinking you brushed it away, watching as it fluttered into small clouds before dispersing. 

“I did give up on it, by the way,” You frowned as your eyes flitted back up to him, brow raising in disbelief considering the blaring evidence that suggested otherwise. “But something’s been bothering me recently. You know what that is?” 

“No.”

His grin was so juvenile you struggled to fathom how this man-child before you was in actuality a twenty-two-year-old well on the way to developing his frontal lobe. 

He leant forward, resting the weight of his upper body on those muscly thighs, shallow breaths puffing hot and dewy onto your neck. There was no subtlety to his show of bravado. No attempt to hide his objective as the invisible string urged him forward, enabling his crude behaviour. 

He wanted to make you suffer. 

“The fact that I may have been the first man to have you, but in a week… I might not be the last.” 

iv.

Brighton Grammar wasn’t any ordinary school, and it certainly wasn’t for the weak.

On your first day, you witnessed a scrawny boy with haphazard streaks of green throughout his locks get tripped in the hallway and laughed at. The next day, he returned with a full head of brown hair. 

His conformity was duller, sure, but it removed a target off his back. The positive side to being different was that you stood out and the negative was that you stood out. 

It was a lose-lose situation. 

“I don’t see why you bother with all those clubs and shit.” Rafe dallied beside you with his hands stuffed in his pockets. He took it upon himself to chauffeur you between classes, and you didn’t miss the way the crowds parted for him like a proverbial red sea. 

A sense of discomfort washed over you as Rafe’s hallowed presence had both girls and boys alike turning their heads. Then there was just you. Plain old you. It was unfair, like pitting a stone against a diamond– ultimately you stood no chance.  

“I’m trying to find my passion and form connections. You should try it sometime, then maybe you won't be such a grouch.” He snarled and swerved to the side when you reached to pinch his arm. His reaction stirred a playful snicker from your lips. 

“Uh-huh. You talk like my fuckin’ grandma, y’know that?” 

“I guess that means, unlike some people I have manners.” He glared at you again, a growing grin nearly breaking his unbothered countenance. “Anyway, I am very capable of making my own decisions and I didn’t ask for your opinion.”

“You, capable? That’s not something I ever thought I’d hear.”

“Oh screw you! Starting today I am an independent woman.”

This time he barked out a laugh. “Whatever you say, sweetheart.”

You came to a halt outside the locked classroom, leaning against the bulletin board frame and waving at your classmates as they mingled amongst each other. Rafe snatched the scheduling paper from your hands, snorting when you cursed him for it. 

“General maths with Mr Dubra? Damn, all I can say is good luck.” 

His words registered someplace in your mind, but your attention had ventured elsewhere. Rafe followed your transfixed gaze to the bulletin board; a bright-coloured poster with cursive font drew you in like a moth to a flame. In the centre of the A4 page was a picture of a small collective of students, the boy at the front particularly capturing your attention as his pointed finger directed at you. 

Auditions for Brighton Grammar’s Hamlet are to be held in the auditorium during lunchtime this Thursday! Do you have what it takes thou thespian?

“I think I’ll join the theatre club.” 

Rafe’s expression could only be described as utterly mortified. “Hey if you want to be labelled a fucking loser, be my guest,” He raised his hands in surrender. “I ain't gonna stop you since you’re an ‘independent woman’ now.”

Your attempt to swing at him failed miserably as he dodged your attack with ease. 

Ironically enough, you had been joking. The spotlight never called to you the thought of that much attention made your skin crawl. What you were drawn to on the other hand was the underappreciated art of stage crew, the glue that binds a production together. 

But the ironic part of it all was that you did end up joining. For one, pathetic and degrading reason:

Thomas Hughes. The boy on the poster.

While you would describe Rafe as universally attractive, Thomas was the kind of handsome that not everyone could appreciate; a somewhat lanky build, eyes deep set into his skull as though he were eternally sleep deprived and unkempt hair tied into a loose bun. 

But most notable was his aura, one of complete self-assurance and radiating warmth. He was also in Rafe’s year level– the grade above you –and you were certain the blonde would not approve, which made it all the more thrilling. 

And for the sole reason of your silly little schoolgirl crush, you found yourself itching to get out of class after fourth period on Thursday. Unbeknownst to the pack of hounds you liked to call friends. 

“You coming to lunch?” Topper asked as you passed him in the hallway, heading in the opposite direction of the cafeteria. 

You shook your head with an affable grin. “I’ll catch up with you guys later.”

“Rafe won’t be happy.” 

“Remind me to give a fuck.” 

The auditorium was located on the west wing of the school, an old block that had been neglected by the school's previous funding. The heavy double doors creaked as you pushed through them, eyes momentarily adjusting to the dim lighting. 

At the front of the stage sat a panel. Some students, some older, presumably teachers. You took a seat a few rows behind them, intent on simply observing. 

There were six others in the crowd, bouncing their knees and fidgeting with their jewellery anxiously. All apart from one girl who sat up straight, clad in a stained white gown. She caught your intrigued gaze and softly beamed in return, offering you a wave. 

Thomas emerged from the right wing clasping a manila folder. “What a turnout, huh? Now as you probably all know, I will be starring as Hamlet–” The audience erupted in a fit of claps and he bent over into a small bow.

“Thank you, thank you, I am honoured. But more importantly, we are in desperate need of an Ophelia, Gertrude and a Polonius. The show can not go on without them! So I invite you all today to give it your best shot.” 

He gave a cue to someone in the light box and the overhead fresnels were adjusted to a neutral glow. “Well then, I don’t see any point in keeping you all waiting. Who would like to go first?”

The girl in the white gown sprung her hand up with little hesitation. “Alright, thank you, Cindy. The stage is all yours.” 

Cindy, as you now came to know her, strode up the steps, hips swaying confidently like a lioness on the prowl. She was offered a script but turned it down, “I’ve memorised this act.” Another girl in the crowd scoffed, shaking her head. 

As she began, you took note of the dip in her cadence as it transitioned from her naturally firm voice to something delicate and wispy. She had an interesting way of manoeuvring across the stage, light-footed movements carrying her graciously on the wooden surface akin to a small cloud conquering the great big sky. As her performance came to an end, the panel of judges clapped and hooted, and she hid her face in the palms of her hands as it turned notably red.  

Thomas offered his hand to help her off the stage, “Great job Cindy! Although I would add for you to maybe tone down on the crazy. It is only the beginning of the play, Ophelia is still fairly sane.” 

The gleam in her eyes faltered slightly. “Oh–uh…ok. I’ll remember that for next time.”

“If there is a next time, don’t get too cocky,” Thomas spoke without looking up from his notes, missing the way her jaw fell open in surprise. 

“Who’s next?”

The room was swept into silence, everyone glancing around with hesitation. 

“You in the back!” Your head snapped upwards, heart dropping instantly, and you awkwardly gestured to confirm that he was indeed referring to you despite the burning of eyes trained on you like being under a spotlight. “Yes, you. Since no one else was brave enough to volunteer, I nominate you.”

“Oh, well I wasn’t actually going to audition. I was just interested in seeing how this all…works.” You chuckled nervously. 

“Nonsense! We don’t bite, do we?” A chorus of ‘no we don'ts’’ echoed in the large space. “Besides, it’s worth a shot. Some people are naturals and you will never know if you don’t give it a go.” 

It wasn’t like you couldn’t refuse. These were theatre kids not abductors with a gun held to your head. But there was an indescribable intensity radiating off of them as if they could sense the refusal on the tip of your tongue, and for the first time, you felt the agonising weight of what your mother would call peer pressure.

 “Alright, why not.”

“That’s the spirit!” You were ushered up to the stage before you had the chance to reconsider, face burning and legs trembling. Thomas’s fingers scraped against yours as he handed over the script. Your breath momentarily hitched and you flinched as though a spark of electricity had been transferred between you. 

“Just read what’s been highlighted, the other shit isn’t necessary.” 

You nodded, mumbling in recognition as you noticed that at least two-quarters of the page had been highlighted in yellow. 

Inhaling deeply, you centred your focus on the script, attempting to block out the sets of eyes trained on you. You opened your mouth…and laughed. A painstakingly timorous noise that could only be controlled by slapping a hand over your traitorous lips. 

 “I’m sorry, this feels so unnatural to me.” 

“No need to apologise, we’ve all been there,” Thomas’s tone was earnest, void of any judgement and this quelled the pin-pricking sensation circulating through your extremities slightly. “How ‘bout we read through the scene first so you have a better understanding of it. Shakespearean language can be a real bastard if you’re not used to it.”

You giggled at his jocose attitude, relief washing over you like a damp cloth. “I think that would help, thank you.”

From what you gathered the scene went as follows: Ophelia's father Polonius and her brother Laertes say their good-byes, consecutively warning her not to trust Hamlet’s promises of love as well as ordering her not to see Hamlet again. 

Although you still admired her performance, Thomas’s criticism of Cindy’s portrayal made much more sense now. Though Ophelia is famously driven to madness later on in the play– accumulating in her untimely and equally ambiguous end– at this stage of the story, she is merely a heartstruck girl observing the world through rose-tinted lenses. 

“Good to go?”  

“I think so.”

“Alright, everyone! Give it up for…sorry, what’s your name?”

Your voice echoed with a newfound confidence and the crowd repeated it in a cheer. Perhaps you had been wrong, maybe you did like the spotlight, only you’d never given it the proper chance. 

Mimicking Cindy, you adopted a higher pitch. Not shrill like the birds that resided outside your window each morning, but a pleasant touch of feminine; soft and delicate. You ambled across the stage, not in the same floaty manner she had employed but instead surefooted, conveying Ophelia’s clear-mindedness at this stage of the play. Unlike Cindy, however, you did not have the lines down, forcing you to take a slower approach. But this seemed to work in your favour, your slowed speech giving you plenty of opportunity to focus on your facial expressions, ensuring that they matched what was being described in the cues. 

As your performance wrapped up and the adrenaline steadily receded, you couldn’t resist fixating on Thomas in the crowd who gazed up at you as though you hung the moon and stars in the sky. 

And for the first time at your godforsaken school, you felt seen.

v.

The hum of silence echoed in the Cameron’s dining room, encompassing the yellow walls in a damp sheen that refused to dry. Silver cutlery clinked against delicate porcelain, and as you picked away at your food, Rose smiled at you from across the table. 

“So…Rafe tells us that you’re going to be in the school’s performance, what was the name–” 

“Hamlet.” The blonde blankly interrupted, and you were surprised that he even knew that. “She’s playing the girl who kills herself.” 

Ward hummed in interest, passing you the salad bowl. “That's excellent news. Theatre was a thriving business in my generation but it seems to have become somewhat of a dying art. Good on you for keeping it alive.” 

“Well I didn’t exactly plan on joining, it just kind of happened–”

“She’s got a thing for the main guy, Tobias or some shit, that’s why she auditioned.”

“Rafe!” He grunted as you nudged his shin, lips peeling into a provoking smirk at your scolding. 

“You gonna tell me I’m wrong?” He teased with a venomous undertone only you seemed to register, and your eyes narrowed at him.

“I want to see, I want to see, who’s this guy?” Sarah wheedled with her big brown eyes. 

“Shut up, Sarah–” 

“Rafe! Do not speak to your sister that way.” Ward’s voice boomed like a deafening clap of thunder, and once his pulsating anger settled, a small cry erupted from Wheezie who tried to conceal her tears beneath a dotted napkin. Rose was quick to placate the young girl with promises of dessert, whisking her off into the kitchen but not before refilling her glass of chardonnay. 

Once they were out of sight, Ward beckoned Sarah to clamber onto his lap, folding her small face into his broad neck before regarding his son with a scalding glare. “Look at what you’ve done.”

The interaction was unsettling, to say the least, but not uncommon. Rafe’s lips pinched shut, suppressing a whimper. In the face of his father’s wrath, he would always detract from his usual tough persona, retreating into the shell of a wounded puppy. You didn’t blame him. Ward could be cruel with no regard for the effect his words had on his son, and you loathed him for his blatant favouritism. 

You reached for his hand underneath the table, intertwining the cold extremity with your own. He flinched at first, aggressively flicking his head toward you. But as you gave it a gentle squeeze he seemed to catch on to your intention and his body fell back into a relaxed state. 

You tried to be there for Rafe as much as you could, but despite your efforts, the void left by an absent father was irreplaceable. You could only try your best, but sometimes you had to put yourself first, even if that meant neglecting the needs of those closest to you. 

The production was a much bigger commitment than you initially thought. Rehearsals pulled you from classes multiple times a week and you began to worry that it could potentially detract from your other subjects. But as a young woman, the possibility of it reeling you from your scholarly responsibilities was not quite as concerning as it was that you felt you were failing at your duties as a friend. 

It had been raining consistently for the past five days. Endless bouts of downpours during spring thickened the soil and left the air with an unpleasantly muggy tinge. You and Rafe slouched against the linoleum floors of the school gymnasium, slightly obscured from view by the red curtains of the wall-length window. He shut your concerns of being caught down by offering you a swig of whatever concoction he’d brought onto school premises.

“How about instead of getting your tits in a twist about it, you have some.”

Classic Rafe. 

But you did end up having some because as soon as he began ranting you knew it was necessary for your own mental wellbeing. 

“You better fucking be there ‘cause there’s no way I can deal with all those old farts on my own.”  

“Am I even invited?” You grimaced as the bitter taste invaded your tastebuds, eagerly handing the flask back, to which he condescendingly snorted. 

A gathering with Ward and his highly esteemed guests could only entail boredom to a deadly degree. Even thinking about it made you yawn, but on the other hand, you would feel bad if Rafe had to endure it on his own.  

“Dad says you're more than welcome, he likes having you around,” He let out a small chuckle, ruffling his short bangs. “He says you keep me sane like we’re an old married couple or some shit.”

At that, you couldn’t help but barked out in laughter. “Yeah right. Say we ever did hypothetically get married, one of us would probably end up killing the other.”

“Yeahhh, probably.”

 He drank again, eyeing you scrupulously, and in that moment you wished you could climb into his brain to know what he was thinking. There was a brief awkward pause before you cleared your throat and asked, “Wait, when did you say this was again?” 

“Friday, afterschool…why?”

“Shit, Rafe–”

“Nah. You gotta be fucking kiddin’ me, again. They can’t keep you after school on a Friday! That’s criminal.”

“I know, trust me I agree.”

“Don’t go then.” He countered with a raised brow, testing you. 

“I would If I could, you know that. But there’s two weeks till the show, there’s just too much to do.” 

“Sure, whatever you say.” He lifted the silver cylinder back up to his lips, taking a long swig. 

“Rafe,” You sighed, trying to reason with him. “Please don’t be mad at me, I’m sorry–”

You were cut off as the doors to the gym groaned, opening to reveal the last person you expected to see.

Thomas. 

“Oh, hey. What’s up?” He seemed surprised to see you, but even more surprised to see you with Rafe, eyes flickering between you with confusion. 

“Hi Thomas, we were just,” His attention flitted down to the flask, incriminating evidence that you quickly swept beneath Rafe’s folded leg, “Uh, what are you doing here? Never took you as the sporting kind of lad.”

Shit, that was bad. As if Rafe was thinking the same thing, he snorted into his fist. You wanted to crumble right then and there.

Thomas seemed to find your comment amusing, however, bowing his head as he chortled. “Damn, it’s that obvious, huh? But nah, I’m just tryna help Cindy find her phone. I would ask what you guys are up to, but…well, I don’t really wanna know.” 

“Ah, well I hope she finds it. We didn’t see anything, did we, Rafe?”

“Nope.” He popped his ‘p’ when answering, and you frowned, unimpressed by his cavalier attitude. “Hey man, why don’t you join us?” 

Rafe tilted his head at Thomas in what would appear to the average eye as a friendly gesture but you knew better; he was up to no good. 

“I would. But as I said, I gotta–”

“Oh c'mon, I’m sure she could do with the detox.”

“Uh…”

“Is that a yes?” He gestured toward you, “She won’t mind. In fact, I think she’d much prefer to hang out with you than me–”

Classic Rafe. You desperately waved your hands at Thomas, attempting to damage control before he had the opportunity to make the situation even more awkward. “Don’t listen to him, he’s way too used to getting his way. Go if you need to.”

A brief glint of relief flashed across Thomas’s features, and like a rabbit caught in a tiff, he seized the opportunity you provided to flee. “You’re right, I really ought to go. Thanks for the offer though, man. See you both around.” 

As soon as the doors clicked shut again, you wasted no time. Rafe didn’t even attempt to defend himself against your slew of attacks, simply taking your weak hits for what they were.

“What the fuck was that?” You finally hissed out once you’d calmed down. 

“What was what?”

“Don’t be a moron, are you trying to embarrass me?” 

“Oh, sorry for being a good wingman.” His shrug was insouciant, further frustrating you. 

“What you’re being is a pain in my ass.” 

He didn’t react to that in the way you expected. Generally, he found the humour in your insults, but this time a coldness you weren’t accustomed to receiving glazed over his eyes.

“You really like this guy, huh?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Cut the shit. You’ve only ever acted like this with that kid who proposed to you in the sandpit.” As you stood he sighed, realising you were refusing to engage in this conversation. “So will I see you on Friday or not?”

“Probably not.”

“See! I knew you’d rather hang out with him than me!” He shouted after you as you stormed off to your next class, gait regretfully swaying as the effects of Rafe’s concoction set in.

In the weeks leading up to the performance, things only became more hectic. If you were to get your cortisol levels tested the results would likely conclude abnormally high. To make matters worse, Rafe was mad at you. Topper and Kelce tried to assure you that he wasn’t, but you knew better. He didn’t respond to your texts, barely acknowledged your presence at school and hadn’t invited you over in a week. All very abnormal behaviours as, while yes, he was an inherit dickhead, you were usually exempt from this. 

So naturally, you did what any normal person in such circumstances would do; gave him the same treatment in return. Only acknowledging the damage his behaviour was inflicting upon you in furious scribbles in your lavender spiral diary. 

You were having your costume fitted in the small dressing room adjacent to the auditorium. Cindy was booked for her appointment afterwards and in the meantime she lazed on the tattered purple couch in the corner of the room, scrolling through her phone. 

A girl from the costume department examined the logistical functioning of your costume as there were a few instances in the performance where a quick change was necessary. Her vivacious red curls bounced as she turned the room upside down in search of her pins. 

“Ok then, you’re pretty much done. I’ll just have to hem the base so we adhere to theatre-safe practices and all that stupid shit they assess…” She paused and eyed you over, tugging at the loose sleeve of your dress with a hum. “You look so pretty, like a fairy.”

“Thank you.” You bashfully smiled. She returned it before turning to the other girl in the room.

“Cindy.” 

“Hm?”

“Cindy.” 

“What?” She snapped, tearing her gaze from her phone. 

“What do you think?”

“I mean it’s alright” She shrugged, face peeling into a saccharine grin. “Not really your colour but you definitely suit rags.”

 You would’ve burst out into laughter had you not been so shocked.

“Now I remember why I don’t ask for your opinion,” The redhead rolled her eyes, shoving Cindy’s garment bag into her lap. “Be useful and get changed into this. I’ll get started on you in a moment.”

Once Cindy had left the room, she bowed her head apologising. 

“I’m guessing you’re not her biggest fan?” 

“Not a fan, period.” She sullenly snorted. “She’s a sanctimonious bitch who can’t keep her nose out of other peoples’ business.”

“She’s pretty at least.” You tried to see the best in people, despite how difficult they made it for you. 

“Well, that’s about all she has to offer. I’m Edie, by the way.”

And the rest was history. 

Similarly to the majority of the cast and crew, Edie was in Rafe’s grade. And when she discovered (during your break on Friday rehearsals) that you knew the infamous blonde personally, you did not hear the end of it.

“You’re friends with Rafe Cameron?” Her jaw fell open so quickly that you worried it would pop out of alignment. 

“Yeah, I mean we practically grew up together. I’ve spent half my life at his house.”

“You go to his house?! Holy fuck, you’ve been living my dream life like it’s nothing to you.”

“Trust me it’s not as good as you might think. He can be a real ass–”

“Hope you’re not talkin’ about me?” An arm suddenly snaked over your shoulder. The limb was heavy but warm– comforting –and emanated a pleasant aroma. Thomas let his hair hang loose today, long ebony strands pirouetting over the surface of your skin when you glanced up at him.

“Ah-ha not specifically, but I don’t know, maybe it applies to you too.”

In true theatrical style, he sputtered out a choking noise, clasping onto his chest to imitate immense pain. “Ouch. I think you just broke my heart.”

“Oh really? I didn’t realise Martians could feel pain.”

He gasped, and Edie chuckled at the interaction from beside you, shaking her head at your antics. “O-kay as cute as that was, can we please get back to the topic of Rafe.”

Thomas’s expression pinched in discomfort at the mention of the blonde and you recalled your last interaction with them both, inwardly cringing. “Does he have a problem with me or something? I feel like he does.”

“Wouldn’t be surprising. He’s always looking to have a problem with someone.”

“Seems to tolerate you though.”

“Barely,” He opened his mouth to respond but was beaten to it by a loud screech sounding out the syllables of his name. Cindy stood atop the stage, tapping her foot rhythmically against the solid wood with her arms crossed over her chest, not bothering to contain her lour. 

“Thomas!” her voice pierced across the auditorium again like one of those pesky drillers going off on a Sunday morning. “I want to go over the cues for this scene, c’mon.”

“Hey,” Edie halted him as he begrudgingly moved to acquiesce to her demand, “Just remember you have free will.”

“Well look how far that’s gotten me.” 

You weren’t sure what he meant by that, as though it were some cryptic message you’d been tasked to decode. He smiled, bidding you both goodbye with a simple wave and you paused for a moment, observing as he trudged away. 

Edie cleared her throat and you were snapped out of your daze, returning to the present only to realise– with much dismay –that your face had been donned with a damning grin. Her brow quirked and you knew what was coming. 

“What’s that look for?” 

“Something you wanna tell me?”

“Um… I don’t think so?” Your voice came out in a pathetic squeak and you cleared it, although the damage had already been done. 

“Oh come on,” She scoffed with an omniscient smirk, “You’re about as transparent as my gran’s panties…You like him.”

“Not you too.” You groaned, pivoting on your heels to take a seat in one of the rows of chairs furthest away from anyone else. If she wanted to have this conversation it was going to be out of earshot. Lest someone else managed to uncover your secret it would soon spread like wildfire. Her girlish giggle followed, and she saddled up beside you. 

“There’s no shame in it, babe. Tom’s a good guy, and you seem to get along…but–”

“But what?” 

Her expression soured, as though the words on the tip of her tongue were full of bile. “One thing you should know about Tom is that for many years, he had a thing for Cindy,” Her eyes rolled to the back of her head, “She rejected and rejected him, and eventually he moved on…but she didn’t like that. Not one bit. But now it seems the tables have turned. Did you know she fucking hates theatre?”

“Doesn’t seem that way to me.” You were prompted to glance up onto the stage where the two were currently rehearsing; she made it seem so effortless. How could she hate the things she was good at?

“Exactly. That’s why she’s so dangerous, she can keep up a good act.”

“I see…” This information shouldn’t have unsettled you. The past was set in stone for a reason and it was only possible for it to be resurfaced if you allowed it to. But it did unsettle you. Cindy possessed a classic kind of beauty you weren’t sure you could compete with. “So do you think if she were to ever bring it up, he would go for her again?”

“Hard to tell, with both of them. I’m pretty sure it’s just a game to her, she likes the attention. But as for Thomas, I think he’s beginning to see things clearer now.”

You tilted your head, unsure of what she meant by that.

“He’s not thinking with his dick.” She clarified bluntly, the crass wording making you gasp and then chuckle.

“Right. Good to know.”

Your phone vibrated from within your jeans pocket and you were surprised to see that it was Rafe calling you, considering you’d essentially gone with no contact for days. Assuming the worst, you excused yourself.

As you placed the phone to your ear you could only manage to make out a whooshing sound as though he were standing atop a viciously windy mountain. Then it stopped in tandem with what sounded to be like a string of expletives before he finally spoke.

“Yooo, what’s up? You coming?” Your brows furrowed at his elated tone. Last you’d checked, he was ignoring you. 

“Rafe, I already told you I can't–”

“Chill, it's fine. Got dumb and dumber to come over, keep me entertained”

“The fuck you just call us?” Topper and Kelce both shouted in unison somewhere in the background. Aside from their outburst, you couldn’t make out any other noise so you imagined they’d locked themselves away from all the action with Ward and his friends. Rafe detested hanging out with the oldies.

“OK, good. Saves me from feeling bad. But are you alright, you sound a bit…” Happy. The word you were grasping for was happy because you couldn’t remember the last time he’d sounded so carefree. 

“Better than ever!” 

“And are we ok?” 

“Yeahhh, you’re too cute to stay mad at for long.”

His response stifled you for a moment. “That’s real funny, Rafe.”

But in the coming days, something told you this may not be the case. 

Instead of avoiding you, Rafe wasn’t even showing up to school anymore. You were worried he was still clinging onto the remnants of his unjust anger until you received another phone call at 2:30 am, the night before your performance.

“Rafe…” You rubbed the sleep from your eyes, voice groggy and disoriented as you checked the glaring red lines on your digital clock. “What’s wrong? Do you even know what time it is?”

“Yeah, uh I’m sorry…” He sniffed. “I’m outside, can I come– ah actually y’know what just come out front, will you?” 

You paused. On any ordinary occasion, you’d have told him to piss off, too tired and frustrated to entertain his larks. But a stab of concern reared its ugly head at his shakey tone– this was very out of character.   

“Yeah, yeah of course. I’ll be out in a minute.”

It was a blisteringly cold night so you shrugged on a coat before trekking downstairs quietly, praying your parents weren’t lying awake to witness you sneaking out of the house in the wee hours. 

The front door scraped against the doormat as it opened. Rafe remained slumped against one of the white veranda pillars, motionless, as though he hadn’t heard you. His breaths were heavy, and upon assessing him you frowned at the fact that he was merely clad in a thin polo shirt and khaki shorts. 

“...Rafe?” You brushed your fingers gingerly across the wide expanse of his shoulders. He violently flinched, whipping around as though your touch was a burning affliction upon his supple skin. But his harsh reaction quickly softened when he saw it was just you.

 “Shit, don’t do that.”

“Sorry.” You whispered, dragging your eyes from his head down to his toes, assessing for any injuries. His unmarred skin left you stumped and it was only when you honed in on his frantic gaze did the issue finally dawned on you.

“Are you high?” 

Your question seemed to strike a nerve. He scrunched his face within his hands, as though he were in pain.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I-it’s like I’m seeing shit and hearing shit and my head hurts so fucking bad.” He was reacting badly. “And all I could think about was seeing you.”

“Did you fight with Ward?” This time he didn’t flinch as you grabbed onto his bicep, hoping to ground him. 

“Yeah, uh, yeah he’s just–”

“It’s alright, you don’t have to explain that right now. I’m here.” His burly arms engulfed you as he accepted your hug. You entangled yourself within his embrace, understanding that right now, all he desired was some comfort. 

“Thanks.” 

His voice was muffled by the position with his head stuffed into your shoulder. You gently tighten your hold in response, focusing on the rapid stuttering of his heartbeat which gradually slowed and levelled out into a calmer rhythm.    

What came next was like an inevitable chain of events: both of you pulled back at the same time and a frisson of confusion swept over you as he remained there, content with your noses practically intertwining. Although you weren’t confused. No. You were evading the truth. The truth that had become crystallised at this moment, glistening so bright you could hardly ignore it. 

One moment you were pinned to the spot by his sodden gaze, sporadically alternating between each region of your face. Mapping out each detail but notably lingering on your lips. Emotions raged within those viridian orbs like a violent coastal storm, threatening to destroy whatever stability you had left. 

Then, as though it were natural to him, he met you in the middle. 

You’d never experienced anything like it, and any story you’d been told was not comparable. His lips were firm and demanding in a way that surprised you and there was not a single trace of hesitation in his movement, as though he’d been waiting for this moment for a long time. 

Reality came crashing into you like a truck; you were kissing your best friend. The boy you bathed with as a child, who allowed you to snot into his sleeve as you wept and who vowed to protect you from the plight of men; It felt nice, but this sentiment was so heavily outweighed by the fact that it felt wrong. 

This revelation ignited your dormant reflexes. As he began to paw at your lower back, you realised this had gone too far. 

The rate at which you pushed him away stunned even you, and a wave of guilt ebbed through your system as his back collided with the pillar; you didn’t mean to be so harsh, after all, he was already in a vulnerable state. He remained crumpled in that position, fingers ghosting over his lips as if he were attempting to savour the taste of your own. 

“Shit, I-I’m always fucking up, I’m sorry,” He cupped your chin, the action causing you to jerk. “Sorry.” 

It unnerved how contrived his apology sounded, and you wondered if he could hear it too. 

“Uh-no no it’s ok,” Your body was frozen in a state of shock. “You're all over the place,” Surely he’d brush this off as a mistake by morning. “let's get you inside, yeah?”

His eyes glazed over your face once again, scrupulously this time, as though he were searching for something. He nodded when he didn’t find it, seemingly wanting to say more as he brushed the back of his neck but he chose to remain silent as you led him inside. 

It wasn’t unusual for you to share a bed; you’d done so numerous times in the past. But it felt different now, like an invitation you were reluctant to hand out. You wanted to be there for Rafe, but you couldn’t let him get confused.

So you lay there, keeping an appropriate amount of distance from the snoring blonde. If you acted normal, things would remain as they always had, right? Would it be swiped under the rug? Deep down you realised the implications of what had just occurred, and the potential for your…brief mistake to alter both of your futures. It was a classic tale, one you’d heard so many times (both in reality and fiction) it had burned deep into your psyche. A slow evolution between boy and girl, from friendship to beyond. But that didn’t mean you'd end like that, you repeated it over and over again like a mantra. 

You just couldn’t.

So you lay there, deciding to enjoy this peaceful moment. Naturally, your mind drifts over it all: the play, Thomas, and Rafe beside you. All share a common denominator– pumping your life full of both excitement and stress. 

But as the saying goes; all good things must come to an end. 

vi.

Rafe experienced what you liked to call a reverse metamorphosis during your senior year. 

Why reverse? Well, instead of transforming from a raggedy moth, expanding his wings to flourish as a butterfly, he took a drastic turn for the worse; as though he’d retreated into a slimy cocoon. 

Not that he’d ever been exceptionally well-behaved throughout his schooling years– busted for truancy more times than you could count, dabbling in all sorts of allusive substances among other nefarious things that you try not to dwell on –but as a recent graduate privileged with all the resources needed to pave a bright future, you had at least expected he’d try.

Unfortunately, things didn’t always pan out as you imagined they would. 

If he wasn’t drunk, or at least on the brink of it, then he was under the influence of some other powdery or herbal substance. Wasting his days away under the soft confinements of his bedding, recovering from late nights and remaining slumped against the toilet for the better half of his waking hours. Then he’d repeat the cycle, with absolutely no lessons learnt. 

Sometimes you’d receive a call. Incoherent slurs that reminded you of that fateful night months ago, where lines were blurred and boundaries crossed. His drunken words held no meaning, right? That’s what you would tell yourself, like a mantra, over and over until your mind believed what it heard the most. 

Nonetheless, you couldn’t spend your whole life worrying about Rafe. Not when you had other, more imperative issues at hand. 

Or… between your legs. 

The nonsensical droning emitted from the food network on your TV fell on deaf ears as you sat perched on Thomas's lap. The weight of your knees was supported by cherry sheets and pink frilly pillows as your lips moved against his at a languid pace. It was soft, sensual…tame, but at the same time exhilarating, and you trusted Thomas to guide you through it.

He let out a low groan as your fingers absentmindedly tugged on his shiny locks. Much to your dismay, he recently cut his hair shorter than it's ever been; his new look attracted attention from those who previously dismissed him, and this stoked the flames of unease within you.

You lowered your position, leaning impossibly closer until your chest brushed against the flimsy cotton of his t-shirt. A jolt of electricity transmitted up your spine as his hands found purchase on your lower back, traversing dangerously low, and a soft whimper floated from your chest.

But as you were still discovering, the art of intimacy was much more complex than you initially believed, and you hadn’t quite learnt how to toe the line.

Without thinking, your thumbs dipped into the waistline of his pants. Just barely tickling the surface, but enough to make Thomas jerk his head back, the hasty action subsequently halting your heated movements. 

 “What’re you doing?” His voice was outlandishly thick as his breaths came out in heavy puffs, scented in confusion. 

“I-i just thought…” You sat back, feeling suddenly unmoored. “Sorry, am I doing something wrong?”

“Of course not, just not right now, ok?” His deft fingers kneaded into your side, but their intended comforting effect did nothing to quell the pang of his rejection. 

“Sure.” You halfheartedly smiled, slipping off of his warm body to settle by his side. 

Had you been as stiff as a board this entire time? And why was your bedroom becoming increasingly suffocating? As though the walls unanimously decided to close in and focus every second of awkwardness into one concentrated area. 

“Wanna watch a movie?” Thomas eventually broke the heavy silence, refusing to broach the elephant in the room– which you were thankful for.

Clearing your throat, you rolled out of your bed, pulling on a pair of fuzzy socks. “Yeah, I’ll-uh get us something to eat. You choose the movie.”

Your relationship with Thomas had been smooth sailing…until it wasn't. 

As you busied yourself slicing up a platter of fruit in the kitchen, you couldn’t resist analysing each possibility as to why. Thomas was acting strangely. This wasn’t an assumption, and it couldn’t have been a coincidence that his change in demeanour always seemed to occur in your presence. So then what were you doing wrong? And why did he insist on keeping you in the dark?

Your train of thought came to an abrupt halt as you noticed an onslaught of notifications popping up on your phone. With an exasperated groan, you leaned over the bench to see who dared to disrupt your moment's peace.

Rafe. Could you get a break?

To: Princess Rafe 🙄👑  Piss off I’m busy.

You left it there, praying to any deity willing to lend you an ear that that would suffice. But clearly, you’d also managed to vex the higher beings, as his response was immediate:

From: Princess Rafe 🙄👑 I’m going 74 mph yet I take the time to talk to you 🖕

Yep. No break for you. 

To: Princess Rafe 🙄👑  ???? Dude get off your fucking phone. 

From: Princess Rafe 🙄👑 Since you asked so nicely.

And if his cavalier regard for the law wasn’t bad enough, his next message sent your jaw straight to the floor.

“Nope. Not dealing with this.” You shoved your phone into your pocket, ignoring the buzz of a new notification, both for your sanity and Rafe’s safety. 

When you returned to your room, Thomas had migrated to the carpet, perched atop a pile of decorative pillows you’d previously discarded onto the floor as he flicked through the pages of a familiar lavender spiral notebook. 

You gasped, the realisation of what he was rifling through and slapping you right across the face. 

“Oh, hey.” He smirked– that sick, condescending bastard!

“STOP!” You screeched, and his laughter verged on hysterical. “Put. That. Down.”

He swiftly dogged the stuffed animals you pelted in his direction, pouting derisively as you proceeded to storm towards him. “Aw, why would I do that? I was just getting to the part where you’ve described my scent. Lemon myrtle? That’s pretty specific, it’s actually musk–”

“Thomas.” Your tone acquired a sharp edge, but clearly, he hadn’t tortured you enough as he teasingly flicked to the newer entries.  

“Oh, and what’s this…” His posture went lax, abruptly pausing. His wide eyes darted in between the lines as though the words were a mirage he was reluctant to put his trust in. Then his lips pulled down into a small frown, and your stomach clenched. 

“What? Where the hell are you up to?” Your attempt to snatch at the book was fruitless as he kept it raised well above your reach. “Wha–”   

 “Alright, I’ve had enough of this game for one night. Let’s watch the movie.” You stumbled to catch the book as he carelessly discarded it, pivoting around you as he flopped back onto the bed.

“Okay…but don’t make a habit of breaching my privacy.” Your laugh was intended to lighten the mood, but it seemed to have the opposite effect. 

“Why, got something to hide?” He sullenly spoke, staring at the ceiling. Again, the inexplicable tension had wormed its back into your room. It was like a stubborn parasite that adapted to its surroundings, never completely disappearing. 

“Nothing too damning I’d imagine.”

The movie Thomas chose was a 20th-century romantic tragedy featuring many themes typical of that era such as misogyny and class which made your eyes roll. Your attention to the plot was continually hijacked as Rafe continued to flood your phone with messages, making it difficult to follow along with the plot. You’d been in the middle of responding to one of his many texts (complaining about how some guy at a party was getting on his nerves) when the movie suddenly paused.

“Mm, why'd you pause it?” You peeled your eyes from the screen to be met by Thomas’s blank ones.

“Can I ask you something? And I want you to just be honest with me, don’t tell me what I want to hear.”

“Uh, sure.” His quick transition into seriousness caught you by surprise, and your body tensed like a coiled spring. 

“Alright look, I hate to be this guy,” His face scrunched into a grimace as he glanced anywhere but your eyes. “But you’d tell me if there was someone else, wouldn’t you?”

“Someone else? What do you mean?”

He sighed, clearly frustrated. “Let me be more clear then. If you liked someone else, would you string me along…or would you break things off?”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing, now twisting your body to face him with a scoff. “Who do you think I am, Thomas? I was the one who asked you out, remember? That wasn’t on a whim, I did that because I liked you.”

“Liked?”

You groaned. Why was he making this so complicated?

 “Liked, like. What difference does it make? To me, this seems like you are trying to come to the conclusion you want to hear?”

“I’m not jumping to conclusions, just tryna test my hypothesis.”

“Okay, and what’s that?” Probing information out of him was like bribing a kid with vegetables; fucking tedious. 

“That you care about Rafe more than you’re letting on, maybe more than you even realise.”

“What?” You almost laughed in disbelief. Where was this even coming from? “He’s one of my best friends, wouldn’t it be more concerning if I didn’t care for him?”

“I never said you couldn’t care about him to a normal degree, but he may as well be in the room with us! It’s never just me and you, he’s always occupying your mind. Do you not stop to think about how that makes me feel?” 

He did have a point. Rafe was like a dog, constantly demanding your attention, and it had been that way since the day you met him. Still, you sat there in shock, realising he must’ve been bottling this up for some time now. 

“I didn’t mean- well alright if we’re suddenly being honest, half the time I’m with you it feels like you don’t even want me there.”

“What does that mean?” Now it was his turn to sound confused, offended even.

“You confuse me! One moment you’re all over me and the next you’re pushing me away as though I make your skin crawl.” 

He paused, contemplatively digesting your words before his pretty features twisted into an indignant scowl. “So does that excuse what you did? Because I don’t show you enough attention?”

“What did I do?” You were at your wit’s end.

“Oh stop pretending like you don’t know what I’m talking about. I saw it, written in your pretty fucking handwritten; you kissed him.”

Oh. Shit. Of all entries, it was that one he had to have read; which did not paint the clearest picture of that night. You got halfway through documenting what had happened before stopping right at the point when you realised it was wrong, no longer feeling in the mood to relive the moment…no wonder he was furious. 

“It’s not what you think.” You internally cursed yourself for how cliche that sounded. 

“No? Enlighten me then.” He sat up straight like a judge awaiting your testimony from a convicted criminal. 

“Rafe has issues…okay. Stuff at home, and he’s never known how to cope on his own–”

“Oh right, so that’s where you come into play. Are your lips like some magical cure for interpersonal issues?” He queried cynically. 

“Would you shut up and listen!” This time, he reared back at your outburst, “That night he was really out of it. I’m talking delirious, like some rabid dog. He kissed me, not the other way round, and I stopped it because it didn't feel right… and because I liked you.”

You could see the cogs churning in Thomas's mind as he absorbed your words, taking the time to process each one. With a gentle gaze, he met your eyes, his expression softening into an apologetic smile.

 “I see. This all happened before we got together?” 

“Yes, of course it was before. I would never do something like that to you,” His drop in hostility spurred you to lean forward, dragging his warm limbs into your embrace, “I promise.” 

Surely this would be the end of it. It had to be. Everything was out in the open, and miscommunications cleared. But when you pulled back, his guilty grimace told you otherwise. 

“There’s something else I have to tell you.”

vii.

Ring. 

Ring. 

Ring. 

Ring. 

Another fervid sob was ripped from your maw. You burned from within, rife with malice clawing up your raw oesophagus till it was raw and prying through your lips in ugly bated breaths. You allowed a moment to pass before trying again. 

Ring. 

Ring. 

Ring. 

…

“You ignore my fuckin’ texts and now you wanna talk.”

“Rafe,” Your cracked voice butchered the syllables of his name, sounding almost unrecognisable. Pathetic. “Can I see you?”

Not even 10 seconds later a notification appeared on your phone. He’d shared his location, some vaguely familiar residence on the outskirts of your neighbourhood. 

“What–”

“I’ll see you soon.”

Being vulnerable wasn’t your forte, nor was it Rafe’s, and there was no doubt he was currently perplexed by your sudden change of heart. But tonight, you needed someone. And that’s how you found yourself stepping into a stranger's house at 12:45 am, scouring the misty rooms in search of a familiar burly figure. 

A low whistle piqued your attention. Topper emerged from the kitchen as you were passing by, two red solo cups in his possession. “Didn’t expect to see you here, not that I’m complaining.”

His eyes quickly swept over your frame, the respectful gentleman he was. You couldn’t contain your scoff. Even in black track pants and a muted pink top… guys really could be attracted to anything as long as it walked on two hind legs. 

“Bit cliche, don’t you think, Top.” You retorted with a halfhearted snort, gesturing to the cups. What was this, a freshman's first house party?

He rolled his eyes, extending one to you. The nefarious liquid sloshed over the rim and you shook your head. “Uh, no I’m good, thanks.”

He fixed you with a pointed look. “It looks like you could use it.”

With a huff, you snatched the cup from him, to which he chuckled. “I hate how you’re always right.”

He began to ferry you toward Kelce and their gaggle of friends who huddled around a small coffee table in the living room, passing a clumsily rolled joint between them. When Kelce’s wide-set brown eyes landed on you, he abruptly stood, knocking the table's contents in doing so as he manhandled you into his side. 

“How’s my favourite girl doing?”

He balanced the joint between two fingers, residual smoke clung to his body in a damp sheen. Your eyes watered as you suppressed a cough, “Fine, until I caught a whiff of you.”

“C’mon, nothing takes the edge off like a good toke.” He waved it in front of your face, an offer, snorting as your face contorted into a grimace. 

“As great as that sounds,” You pushed his arm off its perch on your shoulder with a bitter smile. “Is Rafe here?”

“Yeah, pretty sure he went upstairs.” His hand absentmindedly flicked toward the staircase and you quickly excused yourself before they could become too attached to your presence.

The ambience upstairs was much more quaint than below, mainly consisting of couples who split off from their respective groups. A few were making out, some others collapsed asleep on the furnished floorboards; typical party antics reminding you as to why you generally avoided these places. 

The walk from your house had cooled your system, remedying your flighty instincts ever so slightly. This you were thankful for, as upon opening the final door along the lengthy hallway, you were met with Rafe’s determined gaze, and you knew he would demand answers.

“Been messaging you.” The mattress creaked as he lifted his weight off its surface. His gait was straight and steady, and this was perhaps the closest to sober you’d seen him in a long time.

“I know, I just wanted to see you in person.” Despite your best efforts, the burning of your eyes became so overbearing and you fought to hold back the overwhelming emotions coursing through your veins. It was like the moment someone asks if you're okay when it's obvious you're not, the floodgates open and emotions come crashing down around you in an unrelenting wave.

“Hey hey hey, what the fuck happened to you?” He rushed over, forcing you to face him with a firm grip on your shoulders. 

“It doesn’t matter.” 

“The fuck it does,” His hands rubbed over his face exasperatedly as though he were controlling the urge to be rougher with you and extract an answer forcefully. “You can’t call me all hysterically crying and shit then give me nothing. Did someone hurt you? Did Thomas do something?”

The mere mention of his name sent you spiralling even further. “Alright, come on, sit down.” Rafe didn’t give you much of an option, dragging you to the bed in an iron grip and then forcing you onto the black sheets as he sat beside you. 

“What happened?” 

“It’s Thomas.” You affirmed solemnly. 

 “I’ll kill him.” He seethed through his teeth and your head violently shook. 

“No, no I won’t tell you if that’s how you’re gonna respond.” He went to ark up but you interrupted him before he had the chance. “Rafe, I'm serious.”

“I’ll decide for myself once you tell me.”

With a heavy sigh, you finally conceded. “Do you remember that one girl from my theatre club? The diva one?”

“Who?” 

“Cindy! Blonde hair, beautiful. She was in your year level.”

Rafe’s brows furrowed in confusion. “I seriously don’t know who the fuck that is.”

“Whatever, it doesn’t matter. Anyway, before me and Thomas started…dating, I found out he had a thing for her for quite some time.”

“So?”

“Jesus- just let me finish!” He reluctantly relented, nodding for you to continue. “Since you’re so impatient, I’ll tell you the short version: Thomas stopped liking her then me and him started dating. He thought we had something going on secretly and confided in Cindy…then he used that to justify sleeping with her.”

The silence that followed was like dust settling back onto the road; static but still very much disturbed. 

“What.” 

“There’s nothing else to say.” You croaked, dabbing your sodden eyes on your sleeve.

Not a moment later he shot up, pacing back and forth a few times before submitting to the battle raging in his head and storming toward the door. “Rafe, no you promised me–”

“I didn’t promise you shit!” He whipped back around to face you, face wild with fury. “That motherfucker is gonna get what’s coming for him!”

“RAFE.” His cheeks were ablaze as you cupped them in your hands, eyes darting around sporadically as though he were high on adrenaline. “Please, I need you right now. What happens next is for another time. Let it rest.”

His nostrils flared as he finally met your eyes. You pulled him closer, sensing your words were having an effect, softly whispering another plea– and it was like deja vu when his lips met yours for the second time. Only it wasn’t. As he pressed himself firmly against you, unyielding in his advance, you realised this was truly happening again… and to your horror, it felt nice. 

In fact, you didn’t want it to stop. 

In the time you’d been together with…Thomas…the intimate experiences you shared allowed you to act with heightened confidence, no longer feeling the need to skittishly paw at his chest like a bunny caught by the big bad wolf. Now you moved with your own validity, placing your hands upon his taut chest and following the pace he set. 

His palm suddenly clamped down on your ass and you gasped into his mouth, surprised. Thomas was a respectful lover, never so daring, but Rafe’s impulsivity stirred a concoction of excitement and nervousness within your belly. 

He took this window of opportunity to dip the tip of his tongue into your mouth. Testing the waters at first, and when you showed no signs of disapproval, delving full throttle. “Shit,” He groaned, using his grip on your lower half as leverage to guide you backwards. 

Your libidinous scrambled brain only registered his intention when the backs of your knees came into contact with the bed, instigating your loss of balance. A pathetic squeak floated from your throat as you fell onto the soft confinements of whoever's sheets these were. 

Rafe didn’t hesitate to slot himself between your parted knees, crawling over your limp body like a predator readying itself to ravage a meal. His head dipped into the crevice of your neck, planting strategically placed kisses and sucking on the tender flesh, subsequently sowing the seeds of your growing excitement. 

But as he remained in that position– feverish palms exploring your clothed body, hot enough to burn through the fabric –your heart began to race. Why did you feel a shudder of anticipation run down your spine? What if he were to stop and really look at you? Why were you scared?

It wasn't until he gained the confidence to explore the curve of your body beneath the fabric that you jolted back into reality, your heart racing and breath catching in your throat.

“Wait!” He peeled himself off of you with an expectant look, blown pupils peeved by your interruption. “I’ve, uh-... never done this before.”

You whispered it, timorously, ashamed even. 

You were expecting rejection, after all, that was the only response you ever received from Thomas. What you weren’t expecting, however, was his lips to twitch up in a haughty smirk, his desire for you not faltering whatsoever. You would even go as far as to say that the gleam that appeared in his eyes indicated that he found this revelation rather pleasing. 

“You trust me?” 

Your nod was automatic like a reflex, saving you from mulling over the question too deeply. In response he sat back on his thighs, swatting away your hands which had fallen to your stomach (perhaps subconsciously attempting to create a separation between the two of you) allowing him to slide your loose shirt above your navel and then over your chest, the material bunching around your neck. He marvelled at the exposed skin, tentatively brushing over your stomach causing you to squirm at the new sensation. 

“Then lay back and relax, sweetheart.” 

From then on, the sequence of events was a blur; a tangle of limbs and a symphony of noises all coming together to form an incoherent memory. 

Your shirt was the first to come off, followed shortly by his. Rafe’s bare chest was nothing you hadn’t seen before, but in this context, your vision was obscured by a rose tint. His sculpted biceps flexed as he worked on tugging your pants down and you couldn’t help but notice the way he tucked his lower lip between his teeth in concentration or the dewy sheen covering his skin. 

It was akin to looking into a kaleidoscope for the first time and not knowing where to cast your gaze.

“If he thinks he can hurt you like this,” His firm lips danced across your throat.“Then he’s got another thing coming.” 

He spoke in a harsh growl, hooking his fingers beneath the straps of your bra and dragging them down in one sweeping motion. 

You squeaked in shock, heat blossoming beneath your cheeks at the abrupt exposure of your tits. Your tingling nipples quickly began to harden, and you weren’t sure if this was due to the draft slipping through the slightly ajar window or the firm attention Rafe was paying to your flesh. 

Nonetheless, your arms instinctively twitched upwards, preparing to cover yourself from his prying eyes. He anticipated this, however, promptly collecting your wrists and pinning them beside your head. 

“Don’t, don’t do that.” His voice exploded into a vehement tone. “I don’t even remember who that bitch is, let alone what she looks like…think that’s saying something.” 

Before your short-circuiting brain could formulate a response, his lips descended upon your chest, laving at one of the sensitive buds before sucking on it harshly. Your body reacted viscerally, flailing at the newfound stimulation. You mewled, squirming, as he pulled away with a breathless chuckle.

“See what a girl like you does to a man.” He forced one of your hands down to his boxers. Your eyes widened as you felt how hard he was, and you let out a soft gasp as he throbbed around your palm.

“Feel that? Yeah, that’s all you baby.”

“Rafe, ple–” Your breath hitched as his knee drove forward, the delicious pressure nudging into your clothed core. 

“Go on, I want to hear you say it.” 

“Please…”

“Already speechless? That’s cute.” His words had you shrinking in on yourself, trying to flee from the heat radiating off his body. “It’s alright, I know what you need.”

While your racing thoughts kept you occupied (as well as demanding lips), you were oblivious to the fact that Rafe had removed his knee from between your legs, opting to slink his deft fingers inside the flimsy cotton of your underwear. That was, of course, until you felt something foreign swiping against your most sensitive area, teasingly prodding at the tight entrance. You flinched, shuddering beneath the unfamiliarity of his touch.

“I’m gonna fuck you now, is that okay?”

Your head bobbed up and down ardently, voice tiny and breathless and he grinned. “Ok.”

“Okay then.” 

Your body fell in and out of consciousness, wrecked from a night filled with both pleasure and anguish. When you finally woke up, it was well into the night. The heavy breaths falling onto you from behind drowned out the eerie silence of the house. A gust of wind howled through the night sky, and your naked form shivered as the cold managed to slither beneath the sheets.

Rafe’s arm laid heavy across your waist. Anchoring you down as though— even in sleep —he was paranoid you’d slip away. You carefully lifted his arm, halting as his breathing accelerated before replacing your warmth with a pillow.

The first step went surprisingly smoothly… but that must’ve been a fluke as what came next was nearly debilitating. 

An aching pang shot up between your legs, sharp and sudden. You gasped, clutching onto the bed frame for support. The sensation wasn’t extremely painful, rather unpleasant and even worse it acted as a punishing reminder of the choices you’d made tonight. 

What you just did.  

Fumbling around the floor on all fours was equally deplorable and you now understood what others meant when they described the after-fact as a ‘walk of shame.’ 

You eventually located your pants, desperately patting them down to find your phone. The screen flashed on when you pulled it out of the pocket and you hissed as the harsh light penetrated your retinas, a dull throb settling between your eyes.

There was a flurry of texts from Thomas. Apologies, explanations, and pleas for a response. He’d left your house without much resistance earlier in the evening as you cried for him to do so, but it seemed he wasn’t giving up on you so easily. 

Your heart clenched painfully, and it was as though all of the synapses in your brain fired at once; What have you done?

A pool of saliva formed within your mouth, stomach suddenly churned. You stumbled across the floor, making a beeline for the ensuite as your throat heaved. In a matter of seconds after collapsing on the floor before the toilet, you were vomiting into the bowl. Violent hurls that only subsided once you were completely empty. 

Could you be any more putrid? 

The facet rasped as you turned it, a steady flow of water filling the bathtub as you rinsed out the vile taste in your mouth. It was bitingly cold as you slowly lowered each aching limb into the water, sighing in relief as your body acclimatised and began to relax. 

When you were on the cusp of sleep once again, you started cleaning yourself. Scrubbing your skin raw with soapy suds until the water turned a sickening pink and you felt sick for the second time that night. 

You dipped below the water and watched as bubbles rose to the surface.

viii.

Everything was becoming surreal. 

In half an hour your given moniker would be permanently altered. It was the ‘essence of your identity’ your mother would say, but you’d never been particularly sentimental about it. This likely stemmed from your childhood, as in the mind of a little girl, it was only a means to an end. You used to long for a prince mounted upon a dark stallion to come and sweep you off your feet with promises of a perfect future; all that was required in exchange was a simple change of your name. 

Of course, reality hit like a truck when you learnt that there weren’t enough princes around for each little girl in the world. But still, perhaps your expectations had been too high. 

Mrs. Hughes.

Mrs. Hughes.

Mrs. Hughes. 

There was a certain ring to it that you couldn’t quite pinpoint, similar to when you found a puzzle piece that looks right, but it isn’t the exact fit.   

After kicking everyone out of the room, you’d spent the last fifteen minutes distracting yourself by mulling over your appearance. The seamstress did everything she could to preserve the original cut of the dress but was ultimately forced to make it backless due to the inflexible time constraint.

Despite the reassuring gushes you’d received from the bridesmaids, you couldn’t help but feel exposed. The material that once clung taut against your curves now flowed freely in all its feathered glory, displaying the tender expanse of your back to all those who cared to witness. 

A firm knock reverberated off the oak door and your lips pinched down in a small frown; you’d been explicit in your desire to be alone.

You cracked the door ajar, bewildered to be met with the familiar blue orbs of the eldest Cameron upon peeking out into the hallway. His pale blue suit was neatly pressed and tailored to his body, a black bow tie complimenting the look, making him appear youthful.

“...What are you doing?” You whispered incredulously, glancing to each side of the empty corridor.

He flashed you a grin, holding up a long-neck bottle with a pretty red ribbon wrapped around it like a noose. “Wanted to say my congratulations. I’m guessing you’ll be a bit tied up later on.”

“You’re not supposed to be here,” His head tilted to the left in confusion and you sighed, “It’s bad luck.”

He hummed, smirk grew patronising as he deadpanned; “I thought that rule only applied to the groom?” 

“Is this for me?” You chose to ignore his previous remark, gesturing to the bottle he still held in his possession. 

“Yeah. Rose wanted to give it to you herself but she was more than happy to let me do so when I offered.” You knew what he was hinting at; she missed having you around to keep her stepson in line. You didn’t know why you were surprised, it was in the Cameron's DNA to stoop to sly tactics.

"Mind if I come in?" Your reluctance must’ve been evident by your unwavering grip on the door. He rolled his eyes, voice now tinged with a touch of condescension. "C’mon. One last hurrah, that’s all I ask for."

What can five minutes hurt? Then hopefully he’ll leave you alone for the rest of the night. “Alright, fine, but make it quick.” 

You clicked the door shut, aimlessly lingering by the window as he lined up two of the clean champagne glasses left over from the earlier celebrations. The side seams of his suit tapered around his shoulders, extenuating the strain of his muscles and they rippled beneath the fabric. You averted your gaze, choosing to fix it on a lone swan floating out on the lake instead. 

“Thought I should say,” He turned to face you as he removed the cork with surprising ease, the stopper not even popping as it was released. “You look beautiful.” 

You snorted, brushing over a crease in the thick curtain. “That’s just custom speaking.”

He seemed genuinely miffed by your comment, mouth hanging open with a small huff. “That right there is proof that no one takes me seriously, I mean it.”

“Well thanks, I appreciate it. I did end up fitting into the dress so, guess I proved you wrong.”

His brows furrowed as the cardinal liquid poured into the glass. “Don’t tell me you took that to heart? I was just fuckin’ with you.”

“Yeahhhh, I know.”

He brought the two glasses over by the stem, passing the one which was filled exceptionally fuller to you. 

“Going easy?” 

“Designated driver.” He affirmed, leaning against the opposite side of the window frame. 

Your mouth opened, a soft ‘ah’ flicking off your tongue. “I must say I’m surprised and impressed.”

With a humoured scoff, his eyes rolled to the back of his head. “Alright, it’s your special day, what are we toasting to?”

You stilled for a moment, scouring your mind for something appropriate to say. When it came to you, you grinned: “May you be in heaven a full half-hour before the devil knows you’re dead.”

He hummed in approval before extending his arm to meet your glass somewhere in the middle.

“Cheers to that.” You said in unison, falling silent as you downed the entirety of your drink– it was your day after all, so fuck it, you were going to need some liquid courage to make it through the coming hours. 

The drink was shockingly sweet, oozing down your throat like a hot teaspoon of honey and you grimaced. “What is this?” 

Rafe shrugged, placing his untouched glass down. “Some guy who distils it himself. Disgusting, right?”

“That’s an understatement.”           

Words died in the air between you, lost and forgotten as a thick silence surrounded you both. The energy within the room grew dense, tensions steadily simmering and only increasing in intensity. You squirmed in your position, noticing as Rafe grew fidgety; something was dancing on the tip of his tongue, ready to be released. 

“Remember when I told you that your mum was worried ‘bout you?”

“...Yeah.” How could you forget, his drunken induced admission which soon followed still haunted your psyche. 

“Was-uh…was any of that true about you acting strangely?”

“Your timing is truly impeccable.” Any of the previous lightness was sponged from your tone, replaced by defensive shrill which was painful to your own ears. 

“I’m just sayin’, it’s good to get this shit out in the open before everything is finalised, don’t you think?” He began to gesticulate with his hands, flapping motions which were distracting. 

“There’s nothing to ‘get out.’ I’ve had my doubts, but that’s normal. My mind is clear now.” You stated firmly, struggling to believe that he would have the audacity to question your decision just as it was about to come to fruition. 

“Is it?” His words carried a soft almost sympathetic note, as though you were a child and he was trying not to upset you. 

“Is it what?” 

“Is it normal to have doubts? I mean that reaction before didn’t seem very convincing to me.”He let his breath out in a soft sigh as your gaze remained defensive, backed into a corner like pitiful prey. “You see what this is telling me? That you don’t know how to make a decision that’s good for you.”

Your head was reeling, throbbing as the lights intensified, the artificial brightness causing you to squint. You were struggling to think, let alone formulate a sentence. All you could conjure up was a childish response: “Shut up, shut up.”

The room tilted as you abruptly stood, staggering forward like a limp doll. You were on a rollercoaster, extremities weighed down by the impressive force of gravity. Rafe caught you before you could collapse, supporting your nape against his chest. Confusion ebbed through your veins as you clung to him, a delicate whimper falling from your lips.

“Steady now.”

“Wha…” Your heart thumped realising how slurred your speech had become. 

His hand drummed along the exposed skin, shushing your protests. “It's okay,” a soft and hungry whisper. He drew the zipper down. An expanse of naked, supple skin awaited. A fresh carcass, ready for the taking. 

“I'm prepared to make that decision for you.”

#dark rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #obx fanfiction #obx x reader #rafe cameron #dark obx #yandere rafe cameron #Rafe Cameron fanfiction #Rafe Cameron smut #dark!rafe Cameron x reader #dark!rafe cameron #dark! rafe cameron #dark fic #outer banks x reader #outer banks fic #obx fic #outer banks rafe #obx smut #obx season 4 #rafe cameron imagine #otwtas

[miyoii]

BE WITH ME 𖥔 bada lee x fem!reader (s.her) next

genre: angst | summary — all you want is her; word count: 628

an: requested by @stupendoussportseclipsepaper ! sorry i couldn’t fit everything in one part 😭 i’ll update again in a few though!!

for the past few days, their apartment felt empty. even with two people live in it, filled with cherished memories they would never forget. the empitiness it held didn’t go by unnoticed.

yn sighed for tenth time that day. this week has been hectic for her. leaving the house early in the morning and arriving way past midnight was starting to get to her. good thing they had a few days off of filming, yet she doesnt seem to enjoy it as much as she thought she would.

well, how could she. the person she was yearning to spend time for the past week has been going in and out of the house. she couldn’t even greet her a good morning or good night, heck, they don’t even say ‘i love you’ anymore.

yn tried to keep it in, thinking that her girlfriend is trying to make up from the lost of time with her friends. but this day was the last straw for her. yn didn’t even get to spend the break with the love of her life, now they have to go back to their gruesome schedule by tomorrow.

looking at the clock, it was 1:30 am midnight. the couple needs to leave in a few hours, but yn’s girlfriend is still yet to be seen. she was about to give up on waiting for her, until she heard the sound of the door being unlocked. hearing footsteps getting close by, yn let out one last breath before greeting her, “where have you been?”

the figure stood by the entrance of their living room, “out.” she responded shortly. “its past midnight, we have shooting in a few hours bada.” yn said, keeping herself cool.

“can’t i take a breather for a moment? this past few days haven’t been easy.” bada replied while sighing, “did you think it was easy for me, huh?” “what?” she asked looking at you with furrowed eyebrows.

“bada we have a four day break, and during those days i haven’t even gotten to spend time with you. you’re always out!” yn replied getting irritated, “god yn. not everytime we have to be together, i have a life outside too.”

“am i not part of that life bada? am i not that important to my girlfriend that i’m here begging on my knees for her to give me attention?”

“no, its not like that-“

“then why?! why am i awake at 1am waiting for you to come home? bada…all i want for you is to be with me. that is all i want from you.” yn said standing up, as her voice getting weaker from all of the emotions pilling in.

“why are you so fucking needy.” bada scoffed, too blinded by her own emotions to control her senses, “even jiyu wasn’t this clingy, and she stays at home every fucking day while i’m out working!” she said without thinking.

yn stared at her in disbelief, before letting out a pained laugh. “wow! after all this time bada, you’re bringing up jiyu now? don’t tell me you still love her-“

“i don’t love her yn!”

“are you seeing her then?” bada looked at you silently, not answering. that was all you needed as an answer. a tear fell down from your eyes before you wiped it away and walked past bada towards the front door.

“wait yn-“ bada tried to call her but it was too late, yn shutted the door with a loud bang, and went out, only carrying her wallet and keys.

bada messed her hair in frustration as she sat down at their couch, “why do you always have to mess things up.” she talked to herself before a sob broke its way into the space they once filled memories in.

#bada lee x fem reader #bada lee #bada lee x reader #miyoii

[yzzart]

— 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐈'𝐥𝐥 𝐠𝐨…"

𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮 𝐱 f!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫. 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: How can a question hurt you so much? 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Spoilers for chapter 236, angst but contains words of comfort and some explicit words 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.310! 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: today's my birthday but you're getting a gift! i hope you like it because i almost shed liters of tears while writing this. — sorry for any mistakes.

"What if i left one day?"

Satoru interrupted the brief and sneaky moment of silence that had filled the room; even his words were accompanied by a mediocre echo.

The afternoon was already beginning to announce its delicate end, but there were still strong rays of sunlight invading the room through the window; even with the thin white curtains around. — So, there was still no need, and none of you were bothered, to turn on the lights.

Lying on the large bed, which was recently purchased and still smelled new, along with soft, white pillows and a blanket of the same color spread between your body and Gojo's. — If in doubt, the oldest could camouflage himself in that place and no one would ever find him again.

It was impossible to feel any discomfort, irritation or discomfort in that place; and you weren't just mentioning the new bed or your pillows and blanket. — However, after that question, which had not gained much of your attention, an involuntary sensation that you had never felt before passed your hand over your head.

"What?" — Your voice came out in disbelief, with a somewhat sleepy tone but attentive to the words spoken by the white-haired sorcerer; hoping it was just sleepy nonsense, or a joke from Satoru. —Two things typical of your lover.

A heavy sigh, which could be considered exhausted but had a mixture of feelings that were in conflict, was released by Gojo's lips. — It wasn't his familiar dramatic sigh, when he's starved for attention like a child; it was completely different and enigmatic. — You never thought you would use the last word to describe Satoru with something.

"And if i left one day…" — He repeated, slowly and understandingly, with the intention of you paying attention and understanding every word that left his lips; but, it seemed that his questioning was incomplete. - "… what would you do?"

A rather sudden, quick, and frightened movement was made between the pillows; Satoru even looked around the place to see what had really happened. — You turned your head, automatically, after Satoru's intriguing question. — A feeling of dizziness reached his forehead.

Your eyes roamed Satoru's face; an angelic face, which you claimed was drawn line by line by the gods, that could exist. — And you regretted having uttered that statement to the strongest who began to demand and glorify himself because of it. — A face that has faced and witnessed countless situations, moments, destructions and constructions.

A face that always maintained a happy, contented and relaxed expression, totally different from the issues and curses it faced. — The smiling expressions so familiar to his friends and enemies alike; Mainly, for you.

But, there was something wrong and strange, overlooked by his eyes, in Satoru; a serious, thoughtful and somewhat contrary expression was fixed on his face. — Reaching a point where some wrinkles were visible and his eyebrows were furrowed. — A physiognomy that never found comfort in the image of Satoru.

Maybe, it could even be compared to his reaction upon discovering the actions that Suguru Geto caused during high school. — Maybe.

"What question is that, Satoru?" — A question answering another question; something that bothered the wizard a little, and that you knew better than anyone else. — Your face showed confusion, surprised by that question at that moment, but hoping it was just a joke from the older man.

You were mentally praying, or rather begging, that this was just Satoru's stupid joke.

"Just answer." — The man with messy white hair insisted along with a look begging for seriousness on his part. — "Please, dear."

Another movement was made on the bed, you turned your body, not so quickly or abruptly, on the bed so that your belly was against the mattress and blanket; once again the softness of the fabrics passed through your skin. — So, you rested your elbows on the white pillow and managed to have a privileged and admiring view of your lover, who was waiting for your response.

Trying to relax, and break the mood that was terrible for you, you placed a hand on your chin as if you were thinking about something promising. — And he even let out a thoughtful mumble; something Satoru would do.

"Amazing how you dare think i can live without you." — Gods, that could easily come out of Satoru's mouth; and in fact, you were almost sure he had already said something similar.

"Hey, that's my line!" — Gojo scolded, even leaning his large body towards his, and trying to maintain a serious expression against that situation; which failed shortly thereafter.

A triumphant, warm and liberating smile formed on Satoru's thin lips, giving visibility to the dimples that you loved to admire in the man. — You once admitted that one of the things you loved most about him was his dimples; and that curmudgeon spent the day smiling. — A smile that you didn't want to leave your life or your eyes.

Leave. — Such a small word but with such an intense and painful meaning, a meaning that you didn't want to get involved in your life; not to get involved with Satoru. — A very hard feeling, so cruel, so empty.

You hated that word, that meaning, those countless sensations; and you hated that question asked by Gojo Satoru. — But one thing you didn't hate in that situation was your response to that question.

Because there was no answer; you didn't know how to respond, justify or even create an abominable and distressing scenario for it. — You didn't see or assume your image without Satoru by your side. — If Satoru was there, you would be too but if Satoru wasn't there, you wouldn't know where you would be.

That was your greatest fear, your greatest weakness.

"I don't know, Toru." — When the genuine and natural moment between you ceased, you murmured the only thing your mind reciprocated about the subject discussed.

One more, and last, movement on the bed was made and this time it was Satoru; who rested his elbow on the pillow, placing his hand on his face and the other hand went to your face. — You felt his rough fingers, but at that exact moment they were so soft, touch your face; a long and delicate affection was performed by her lover. — Comfort, security and passion filled your chest.

Satoru looked at you with so much admiration, so much passion. — He never loved a person as much as he loved you, he made that clear to everyone and to you. — Those eyes contained a mixture of all the shades of blue that could exist in that mediocre world; and thus, turning a new color of blue that you were, absolutely, in love with. — Eyes you never wanted to stop admiring.

Not even the strongest, chosen and worthy sorcerer could give an answer to his own question; even though they didn't admit it through their looks according to the circumstance. — He wouldn't know how to live without you by his side, without you in this miserable world. — And Gojo understood you, he always understood and understood you, as to why an understandable response didn't come from your lips.

"One day you will have to know, my love." — With an immense and burning desire to cry, to release trapped and painful tears from his beautiful eyes, Satoru manages to control himself. — You direct your hand so that it is under Satoru's.

And once again, you pray that day never comes.

For the first time in so long, your prayer, your request, your cry was ignored with fervor, anguish and torture. — Feelings that were debating with such force in your chest, to the point of hurting.

Gojo Satoru was dead. — Satoru had left, just like he had one day asked you about what you were going to do; and so, you kept the same answer.

You didn't know what to do.

#gojo satoru #satoru gojo #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x y/n #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #satoru x reader #satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu gojo #gojo imagine

[raineydays411]

My Fathers Daughter pt 10

A different perspective

Dick Grayson has always been used to being the first.

He was the first Robin, the first son, the first to be picked for almost anything.

Hell he was the first child as far as he knew. So imagine his surprise when he finds out his mother not only has a whole secret daughter, but one that she completely abandoned.

He could still hardly believe it.

He couldn't stop thinking about the night they found out about her. The look on Christine's face, it was one he's never seen before. The look of shock and almost disbelief, like she had seen a ghost.

In a way she did.

The ghost of the life she left behind with Tony and Y/n Stark. Now Christine was trying so desperately to revive it. As if she didn't murder it with her own hands. And while Dick himself had reservations with these actions, Christine was his mother before anything, and he was going to help her no matter what.

So here he was, standing outside the bedroom of his mothers long lost daughter, trying to figure out something to say. It shouldn't be too hard, seeing as Jason of all people managed to get you to open up.

And yet, here he is. Unable to muster up the courage to simply knock on the door.

"This is fucking ridiculous", Dick thinks to himself, "Just knock, what's the worst that can happen?"

Lost in his own thoughts, Dick didn't notice the shadow under the door, and was startled by the sudden swing of it opening and you standing there.

"I can hear your thinking over my music." You said a little annoyed," Is there something I can do for you or...?"

Dick blinked trying to gather all of his thoughts, he really didn't know what to say to you. This is the first time you've said more than three syllables to him.

You stared back, face revealing how uncomfortable you were getting with this prolonged eye contact.

"Riiiight, so im just gonna" You say taking steps to shut the door in his face

"Wait!" The raven haired man shouts, "Wait, please."

You stop with a sigh and open the door, inviting him in, " Alright, come on."

Dick walks in, looking around at the room that actually used to be his when he first moved in.

He mentions as much trying to break the awkward silence.

"Hm, and you were okay staying in a room that was copied from a dracula movie?" You say snarkily

"Well to be fair I was 12 and watched my parents die in front of me, I wasn't really looking at the decor." He says half joking.

You made a face and looked away, feeling even more awkward.

"Anyways, I just wanted to you know...see how you were settling in" Dick starts, " Its been a few months and it feels like we hardly even see you."

You pause, thinking of what to say. But before you even have a chance to say anything Dick continues.

"You know, moms really excited that you're here." He starts, " Honestly I don't think I've ever seen her this excited over anything. She's usually very level headed."

You stare at him

"I mean, you know how she is I suppose she is your mother too."

You stare

"I know she probably really missed you, she gets lonely sometimes you know? Everyone here usually has their own thing going on and we don't really get to see her as much."

Nothing from you

" Well, I guess she see's Damian more than any of us but that's because he's basically her baby."

Okay...that hurt

"I mean, I think he was the youngest when he came to use, I think he was like nine or something. And he was not the easiest to get along with. So don't worry that he hasn't warmed up to you yet."

You hum, already irritated with this conversation.

"He's also really protective of our mom, she's done alot to make sure their relationship is as good as it is." he says offhandedly, " Actually she's done it for all of us."

"Oh really?" You ask with no real intrest.

"Yeah! I remember one time when I was little she always made it a point to spend time with me even though she was so busy." He says fondly.

You decide to play along and remince on the memories that you buried long ago.

"You know, when I was younger, Christine used to take me out of school and take me to see ballet shows." You say with a slight smile, " I was in classes back then and loved watching the older girls dance."

Dick smiled, feeling as if he made some progress with you, " Really? I think she actually takes Cassie and Steph to those sometimes, you should ask to tag along I'm sure she'll love it."

You cringe, feeling another needle in your heart. Not even your memerioes were sacred.

"Yeah no thanks." You reply harshly, " I don't like ballet anymore."

Dick pauses, shocked at the sudden shift in atmosphere.

"I--"

And before he can say anything you cut him off, feigning a yawn

"Hey look, not that I don't love our little chats, but I am beat."

"Oh! right, sorry I guess it is getting a bit late.."Dick say hopping up from your bed and walking to the door, " Y/n, you know its really nice talking to you. You should try and open up more."

You smile sarcastically, " you know, something you and mother have in common is that you both like talking at me, not to me."

And with that you shut the door, promptly ending the conversation and sending Dick spiraling.

In fact, the statement bothered him so much that he went seeking a second opinion.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Yeah... I don't know how to help you man."

"Oh come on! Jason, you and her are like...bosom buddies or something."

"Bosom buddies? How old are you?" Jason scoffs, " Look, what you and everyone here doesn't understand is that Y/n has a family waiting for her. She's not going to except mom as her mom because her mom is still alive and well."

"But...technically our mom is her mom." Dick says hesitantly, " And if I were her I'd be thrilled to have my mom back."

"Dick. Your mom didn't abandon you for a different family." Jason says annoyed he's not getting it, "What the hell is wrong with you, you're usually so level headed about this stuff?"

Dick pauses.

To be honest he doesn't know why he's being so hard headed about the whole situation.

He knows that he doesn't like seeing his mother sad, and lately seeing her face when you reject every move she maked to make amends is heartbreaking to him.

That was his mother. The woman who took him in as her own when his biological parents died.

The same woman that stayed by his side no matter how moody, rude, and bratty he first acted when he first arrived. She took his grief on as her own and basically put him back together along with Bruce. He can still remember the night he considered her his mother.

He had just started out as Robin, and had just got back from patrol. It was a rough night.

First, it was the middle of autumn and raining heavily, he and Bruce weren't getting along this particular night and he overall was just having a bad night. So needless to day he was a little rougher with the baddies he was fighting tonight.

Bruce had already reprimanded him throughout the night about his unnecessary force but Dick did not want to hear it. It got so bad that Dick was just going off own his own without Batmans orders, and thats where the trouble began.

Dick had jumped the gun again, throwing himself into a fight with some drug dealers , not realizing that there were one too many for a fourteen year old to handle by himself. They quickly overpowered him, and ganged up on the poor boy.

He was given quite the beating before Batman caught up to him and basically saved him.

In pain and with a bruised ego, he had to listen to yet another lecture from the irritated (actually extremely worried) dark knight, and one from Alfred who was also extremely worried while he cleaned up the child.

He has finally marched to his room in a huff and after he shut the door, was finally able to reveal in the fact that he almost died. He was lost in thought, finally feeling the fear and pain in every move he made as he tried to crawl under the covers when he heard a knock on the door.

In she came, with a tray of goodies she personally made,staying home from a business trip he had known she was going to go on. She crawled into the bed with him, held him to her chest and allowed him to cry.

"You may be a big brave superhero" She said to him, " But here in this home, you're my son. My baby, and you are allowed to cry if you need to. I won't judge you. I won't say a word."

And he did. He cried.

He cried because he was hurting. He cried because he was angry. Angry because he was beat up. Because he was lectured all night. Because he missed his parents.

But most of all, because he felt as if he was forgetting them. He was having such a good time at the Wayne manor, grew to love the Waynes as the parents they intended to be to him. He felt as if he was betraying his parents. The parents that had raised him up to that point.

And here he was, laying cuddled up to Christine the same way he would with his mother. But at this point the two of them are blurring together, to the point where he can't tell where his mother ends and Christine starts.

This woman, took him in and wrapped him in love.

Love that he thought he would never feel again after that tragic night.

A love that, he honestly cannot imagine never having.

It was something that he couldn't begin to repay her. He wouldn't know how. Where to start.

Rekindling his mother with the daughter she lost. Gave up.

That was the least he could do. He'd do it for her.

But, after the conversation he had with Jason, he went home and thought about it. Actually really thought about it.

The year he came into the Wayne's lives, Christine stopped going on her business trips.

Not all at once, but she would push them back.

Usually because Dick had needed her.

She pushed her trips back until eventually, she just stopped going.

She hadn't said much, just saying that she realized that she was needed at home more than they needed her over there. But even at that age, Dick noticed she was sad. She kept her composure around the family, but once Dick had seen her crying in a pantry deleting something off her phone.

He had thought it was weird but after a few months she was okay.

No crying, no sadness.

And... now that he thinks about it. While he was being wrapped up in love there was another child in New York, who's life was being completely unraveled. All because of him.

And maybe...the reason he was trying so hard to rekindle you and Christine wasn't really because of Christine.

But because since that night, the night you were revealed to be her daughter, he did the math. And he just wanted to give you back the mother he unknowingly stole away from you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Taglist:

@loxbbg

@its-emma-asinme

@zagreusdaughter

@animealways

@dead-sane-stuff

@avitute

@khaleesihavilliard

@d3m0n8ch1ld

@almostjollypizza

@anniebannanie0315

@tracysnook

@edlothia-baby

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@defiantbalde12

@lilyalone

@sillypastasludeland

@cassini-aming-the-stars

@pietrosbae

@bring-it-on-home-johnb

@romanoffmaximoff0096

#marvel x reader #avengers x teen!reader #dick grayson x reader #jason todd x reader #tony stark x daughter!reader #bruce wayne x daughter!reader #x reader #reader insert #dc comics x reader #marvel #batfam #batfam x batsis #batfam x reader

[chvnnie]

Thoughts on a boxing match with min/chan where you ask them to teach you and you end up manhandled to the floor and floored

the way i stopped breathing—

SMUT — MINORS DNI

“You throw shitty punches.”

“You’re a shitty teacher.”

“Oh? Is that why you asked me to train you?”

You drop your fists, face twisting in annoyance as you glare at your friend. There’s a smug smile on his face, one that you were fully expecting. Minho finds far too much enjoyment in your struggles.

“I actually asked Chan.” You say, tugging the gloves off and letting them hit the floor. They bounce a bit, rolling to the edge of the ring. “You inserted yourself into this.”

“Trust me, you much rather have me train you than him.” Minho, who opted for gauze instead of gloves, starts to unravel it. Though he called you weak, his hands are glowing red. A little swollen. Good, you hope it fucking hurts. “Just because he has more muscles doesn’t mean he’s better at fighting.”

You’ve walked towards a corner of the ring, picking you water bottle up off a stool. “What, and you are?” You ask following a long drink, holding it out to offer him some.

God, you hate how cocky he can be. Menacing smile, playfully evil eyes as he takes the bottle from you. As he drinks, he’s sure to make eye contact with you. Raise his brows a bit. You scoff in disgust and look away, acting like the bobbing of his Adam’s apple isn’t making you uncomfortably warm.

“Mhm.” He caps the bottle, returns it to its home on the stool. “Chan might be stronger, but I’m faster.”

You can’t help the laugh of disbelief you give. This can’t be serious. What is this shit? “Sure, Min, whatever helps you cope—“

“I’m not joking.” He’s so serious, it’s almost chilling. The playful expression he had is gone, replaced with his normal, almost cold one. The laugher is gone, replaced with a shiver you try to hide. “He’s bigger, which means he’s slower. To swing, to move, even to react. By the time he’s ready to land a blow, I’m already out of range.”

“You’re full of shit.”

Minho shrugs, and you think that’s the end of it. What time is it? It feels like you’ve been here forever. As you turn your head to look for the clock, you see something in the corner of your eye. Sharp reflexes have you ducking, narrowly missing your friend’s punch.

“What the fuck?” You shout, popping back up in anger.

There’s that aggravating smile. “See. Have to be quick.”

This. This is exactly why you asked Chan and not Minho. Blood boiling, you snatch your gloves off the ground. His eyes are on you the entire time, fire dancing in his eyes at your reaction. Once they’re secure, you swing.

And miss. Light on his feet, he bounces back. Just out of reach. Another one, another dodge. He laughs this time, avoiding each punch with a hit.

“Faster, come on!” Minho coaches. “You’re so close—“

“Shut up!” You snap, chest heaving as you begin this dance around the ring.

Punch. Duck. Swing. Miss. The fucking rabbit narrowly avoiding your shot every single time. As irritating as it is, you’re starting to become more confident. Your aim is better, there’s more force behind each blow.

You hate the smile he gives you. One of pride. One that makes your heart start to skip beats.

Oh, you’re fucking over it.

You lunge towards him, determined to put an end to this grueling and annoying session. Before you can even raise a fist, he hooks his foot around one of your legs. Suddenly, you’re on your back, groaning as stars dance on the ceiling on the gym.

Minho has you perfectly pinned to the ground; you can’t even squirm. Strong legs locked with yours, hands on your wrists and keeping them to your sides.

The smug smirk is back, and he’s leaning in. Nose close to yours, warm, minty breath fanning across your face.

“Still think I’m full of shit now?”

Stars begin to fall, yellow, white, and a soft pink as they land in the tight space in between your bodies. Some of them are cool, like the low octave of his voice. Some are warm, complimenting the fire in your belly. The gravity they bring has a pulling sensation. Follow the light, let it show you how it shines.

You have nothing to say, blinking up at your friend. His body has never been this close to yours, strong thigh perfectly wedged between your legs. It seems like he’s aware of this; the stars are beginning to dim as he gets closer, burning. Ready to explode when the tips of your noses meet. Lips hovering—

The metal door makes a loud door when it’s shut, scaring the pretty lights away. They spin back up to the ceiling, gone as quickly as they appeared. Minho gives an annoyed grunt, snapping his head to see who crashed this closed practice.

Chan stands near the door, gym bag in hand. His grey, cutoff gym shirt is drenched in sweat, obviously coming from his own workout. With a raised brow, he laughs.

“Am I interrupting something?”

The question snaps you out of the haze, gloved fists banging against Minho’s chest. Grunting, trying harder to escape his hold. If the others get wind of the compromising position, you’ll never live it down.

“Fucking move, you cunt—“

“You did.”

The gloves hit the mat with a thud, staring at Minho in complete shock. What the fuck is he doing? Whatever was sparkling is long gone, way out of reach now. Ruined by Chan. It should be left to fizzle away, never to be spoken of again.

With a laugh, he drops his bag, walking up to the ring. “Apologies, I thought we were training.”

You don’t like the look Minho gives you before he sits up, a small but evil grin on his face as he looks at his friend.

“We are.”

It takes him only a second to flip you onto your stomach. Before you can do much as protest, Chan is kneeling in front of you. A hand clasped over your mouth.

He clicks his tongue. “Didn’t you want our help?”

The braids you had so painstakingly put in this morning are untangled with little care. Chan has a rough grip on your hair, keeping your nose flush to his hipbone. Though you gag, cry, drool, he doesn’t move. Staring down at you with dark eyes and parted lips.

With a tap to his thigh, you could end this. Make him release you, and the three of you will leave. Never to speak of this again.

But the weight of his cock on your tongue is almost as heavenly as the one buried deep in your cunt.

Minho moves his hips in an agonizing motion. Hands on your ass, he kneads the flesh. Teases you other hole, thumb just barely inside. The tip of him nudges your walls deeper than anyway has, fluttering and clenching as the new feeling brings the stars back to earth.

Slowly, Chan pulls you off his cock. He thinks it’s precious how you cough, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath.

“Aww, poor thing.” A thumb collects the mix of spit and precum on your chin, pushing it back into your mouth. Quickly, you work around the digit just as you had with his cock. “Not used to this much attention at once?”

Your glassy eyes blink up at him, hardly processing the question. What the fuck is wrong with you? Why can’t you think? Where are the words that are spinning in your hallow mind, refusing to leave?

Minho laughs at his friend’s question, thrusting into you hard enough to make you unsteady. You slip, sweaty hands unable to hold you up.

“Of course not, hyung.” The way he smacks you makes your entire body sting, cries aching along with the sound of it. “Think about who you’re talking to. She’s too much of a good girl.”

You hate the way he speaks to you. You hate the way you love it, clinching and whining at the insult.

Chan smiles fondly at you, pulling his thumb from your mouth and quickly replacing it with his cock again. He guides you, setting the tempo himself while you work your tongue around it.

“Maybe with some training,” he tilts your head. Making sure you’re looking right at him. “You can be our good girl.”

#skz smut #stray kids smut #bang chan smut #chan smut #lee know smut #lee minho smut #minho smut #chvnnie thots

[hazbin-a-helluvamagines]

Hey ! 😋 I loved those Verosika headcanons, I wanted to see if we can have a Verosika x cute idol reader one shot ?

Basically cute idol reader meets blitz by accident (reader didn't know about blitz and Verosikas last relationship), blitz just tells the reader lots of shit about Verosika (things like: "she doesn't actually love you", "you're just a temporary toy", etc) reader just starts crying out of sadness and insecurity and Verosika comes to help and comfort her cute s/o 🩷

Verosika Mayday's S/O Being Told By Blitzø That She Doesn't Love Them

As you were heading home from your latest show, you stopped inside a Hot Topic to pick something cute up for your girlfriend, Verosika. You weren't sure a succubus would like much from there, but a lot of things seemed to suit her style, so you figured it would be your best bet, and you wanted to surprise her.

As you were looking through the racks, you spotted a small, orangish-red creature with large horns protruding from his head waiting outside of the changing room. Based on Verosika, you could tell he was a demon, and if you remembered correctly, an imp. You debated on going and introducing yourself to him, but decided against it, figuring it would be awkward to do just because you happened to know a succubus, so you brushed it off and went back to your shopping, spending another five or six minutes looking through the racks of clothing for something perfect to gift Verosika.

That didn't last long before a voice snapped you out of your haze.

"Hey," the voice said, and you turned to see the imp from earlier glaring you down with a smug grin covering his face. "You're Verosika's little pet, right?"

"I-I'm sorry?" you stuttered in disbelief. How did he know Verosika? And why did it seem like he didn't like her? Who could dislike Verosika, anyway?

"Answer the question, shit face," he replied in an increasingly irritated tone.

"I-I'm her partner, yes..." you answered in a soft voice, becoming increasingly uncomfortable with the way his eyes bore into you as though searching for an unseen weakness hidden somewhere within you. His eyes widened before his smile became twice as malicious.

"Partner?" he repeated incredulously, as though he didn't believe you, laughing along as he did mockingly. "Take it from me, toots, she doesn't love you. You're nothing but a pump-and-dump to her. Y'know, a fun-and-run."

"Excuse me? What are you saying?" you asked timidly, tears stinging the outer corners of your eyes as you spoke.

"Hm? Oh, yeah, I'm her ex-boyfriend or whatever," he said quickly, in a tone that implied he was somewhat embarrassed over having had an intimate relationship with your girlfriend.

You winced. "Wh-What do you mean?"

"You're temporary to her. Just like I was. You're nothing but a toy for her to play with and abandon when she's done. A... rebound, you could say," he answered with a smirk, his tail flicking out behind him.

"I-I... I have to go..." you replied, rushing out of the store with nothing to give Verosika in the end.

Behind you, the imp's face morphed into an expression of guilt, knowing he hadn't told you the full truth, but he quickly wiped it away as his daughter came out of the changing room.

~♡~

That evening, Verosika had been quick to notice something was off with you. She could sense lust and its absence, sure, but that didn't mean she couldn't sense an imbalance in other emotions, too. After an hour or so of keeping up the charade and hoping you would feel better after having some time to think on it, she finally broke the silence.

"Okay, what's wrong? You've been acting weird ever since you came home," she asked, raising one eyebrow suspiciously. She would know if you lied to her, and you knew it. Not that you were an exceptional liar, anyway. You were too innocent for that.

"I-It's nothing, Rossi..." you tried to lie, but Verosika's hand reached up to you and cupped your cheek, her expression growing concerned.

"Love, please. I want to help you, but I can't if I don't know what's wrong," she whispered to you, you nodding in response.

"I... ran into your ex today, and he... he said..." You were cut off with a low growl from Verosika, her eyes glowing a pale pink with rage, even through her human disguise.

"That prick..." she snarled, turning back to you with a worried expression. "What did he say to you? I'll rip his cock off..."

"He... He said that you don't love me. That you'll have your fun and then leave me," you sniffled, curling your knees to your chest to hide the tears pricking at your eyes.

"What?! He... Oh, goodness, S/O..." she whispered, stunned by the horrid things you were telling her. "That's absolutely not true. If I didn't love you, I wouldn't bother dating you. It's a lot more work to get into a relationship than to have a one-night stand, y'know?" she asked rhetorically, a small smile crossing her lips. "So please, don't ever think I don't love you, sugar," she said, peppering your face in kisses.

Yeah, you knew she wasn't like that.

#blitzo #helluva boss #helluva boss x reader #helluvaboss #verosika x reader #helluva boss verosika #helluva verosika #verosika helluva boss #verosika mayday

[kristenwell]

(Not) Jealous - Leo Valdez x Reader

(Okay so I've had this idea for a while and I thought it was cute but it's my first fanfic so it's probably cringe 💀 Also : g/p = godly parent)

Leo glared and huffed in annoyance. He was sitting on a bench near the docks, observing a certain person.

This particular habit of his s/o was starting to get on his nerves.

It’s been a few days since they found a stray cat near the camp and since they’ve started to neglect him.

The demigod in question kept on cuddling the small calico in content. Few kisses on its little head here and there along with careful hugs.

The son of Hephaestus had hard time admitting to his jealousy.

„You’re gonna burn a hole in their head if you keep staring like that.“ The voice next to him spoke, slightly amused by his behavior.

„Maybe it’ll finally take their attention away from that stupid cat.“ Leo grumbled. He didn’t even need to look at the person speaking to know it’s Jason, and he knew he came to tease him.

The blond boy chuckled. He sat on the bench next to his curly haired friend as he kept his eyes on y/n.

„Maybe you should join them,“ Jason suggested: „and show that you’re interested instead of sulking here like a little kid.“

Leo huffed and ran his hand through his dark curls. The gentle wind doing little to no help with cooling down his red face.

„You don’t get it, they haven’t given me their full attention for like whole two days, how am I supposed to survive?“ He whined dramatically.

Jason’s eye caught a figure approaching the two boys.

„Here they come. Good luck, dude.“ The taller male gave Leo a reassuring pat on his shoulder before scurrying Zeus knows where.

The sight of wind blowing in their hair, sun kissing their skin as they walked in his direction made his heart pound loudly against his chest. Leo could feel himself melting, he was whipped.

„Hey, fire boy.“  Badump. Normally if anyone else were to call him that he’d hate it. But  Y/N was an exception.

The child of g/p sat in Jason’s previous spot next to Leo. They still held the tri-color cat in their arms.

Before the shorter male should utter a word his s/o beat him to it.

„So what’s got you so down? Usually you’d be all over me in a second.“  That sentence alone made Leo straighten his back and snap his head in their direction.

„Why don’t you ask that stupid animal since you’ve been spending SO much time together.“ Irritation was evident in his voice as he kicked the poor ground.

„Cookie is not stupid, she is one of the smartest cats I’ve seen. Aren’t you, sweetie?“ They cooed at at the tiny creature in their arms before the realization hit.  „Love, don’t tell me that THE Super Sized Mcshizzle is jealous.“ A smirk made its way on their face.

A red hue spread across the male’s face as he looked away.

„Of course not, look who you’re talking to. I’m the bad boy supreme, “ He stammered.“I’m just suggesting that you should spend more time with your boyfriend than that stray that probably has fleas.“

Y/N covered the Cookie’s ears and started at their lover in disbelief.

„Don’t treat her like some sort of animal.“ The look that he shot them spoke for itself.

A short silence left them both looking into each other’s eyes. Y/N was the first one to break it.

„I’m sorry if it seemed like ignored you, it wasn’t my intention.“ They gently took his hand into theirs as they looked for a sign of uncomfortableness in his face.

„I’m sorry too, for lashing out at you. It wasn’t cool of me.“

His s/o shook their head and slid closer to him. „So, we’re good?“

„Yep, we’re good.“ He smiled and kissed them gently on their lips.

„Since we’ve established things I need to do one last thing,“ Y/N grinned and quickly placed the relaxed cat in their boyfriend’s arms. „hold her for a while.“

Leo sent a puzzled look his lover’s way as they pulled out a camera and aimed it at him.

„What? She needs a father as well.“  They giggled and snapped a few photos.

„Gotta have something for the family album.“

#heroes of olympus #leo valdez x reader #pjo #leo valdez #hoo x reader

[owen-writes]

Behave

10th Doctor x Male Reader

Slight hints of NSFW. Like Dom/sub vibes and kissing. Basically pure self indulgence.

The Doctor's firm voice echoed in the metallic corridors of the spaceship, "Stay right here. I'll be back in a moment, love." He's giving you a stern look, a look you like to ignore.

With a mischievous grin, you nodded. But as soon as he turned away, you couldn't resist the allure of exploring the mysterious vessel. It was massive and somewhere new. The doctor should've known better. Your steps echoed lightly as you strolled through the unfamiliar surroundings, a sense of rebellion tingling through your veins. You get slightly giddy of the feeling, urging you to carry on deeper into the spaceship.

As you turned a corner, you stumbled upon a peculiar console, its lights blinking invitingly. Stretched out across the whole wall. From one end of the room to the other. Unable to resist, you began to fiddle with the controls, a devilish smirk playing on your lips. Little did you know, the Doctor had sensed your disobedience.

Upon his return, the Doctor's eyes widened in disbelief, scanning the empty spot where he had left you. His jaw clenched with frustration, and he muttered to himself, "Honestly, can't leave you alone for a minute."

He wandered the way he thought you would've gone. Around a couple of corners and through a long corridor.

Suddenly, he caught sight of you, standing at the mysterious console with an innocent expression that failed to conceal the mischief in your eyes. The doctor coughed, rather roughly, making you turn around. The Doctor's stern gaze met yours, and he crossed his arms, "What do you think you're doing, handsome?"

Your nonchalant shrug only seemed to fuel his irritation. "Just explorin', Doctor. Got bored waiting for you," you replied, feigning innocence.

He took a step closer, his eyes narrowing, "You were told to stay put. This is a spaceship, could be dangerous. You've got to do as you're told."

A wicked grin spread across your face, "Well, where's the fun in that? I thought you liked a bit of excitement."

The Doctor's patience was wearing thin, and his voice took on a stern tone, "You're pushing it, you know."

You chuckled, feeling the thrill of rebellion, "Maybe that's what I want."

In an instant, the Doctor closed the distance between you, pinning you against the console with a sudden intensity. His hand rested beside your head, and on the wall, trapping you in place. The atmosphere crackled with tension as he leaned in, his voice a low, commanding growl, "You have no idea what you're playing with, love."

You met his gaze defiantly, the playful smirk not leaving your lips, "Do enlighten me, Doctor."

His lips crashed onto yours in a dominating kiss, a fusion of frustration and desire. The Doctor's hands roamed your body, trying to force you to behave for him.

Breaking the kiss, he whispered against your ear, "Maybe this will teach you to listen."

The Doctor's hands slid down your sides, fingers tracing patterns that left you breathless.

You met his eyes once again, the corner of your mouth turning up into a smirk. "Or, it might make me do it again." You breathe out, still trying to catch your breath from the kiss.

He shakes his head at you, but a small smile graces his lips. He leans in for another kiss, this time much softer, and quicker. When he pulls away, he grabs your hand, and pulls you back the way you came from.

#doctor who x male reader #doctor who x reader #doctor x male reader #doctor x reader #the doctor x male reader #the doctor x reader #10th doctor x reader #tenth doctor x reader #10th doctor x male reader #10th doctor #tenth doctor #the doctor x you #the doctor x reader smut #doctor who

[aswaki]

mile high club privilege [smt x reader]

seok matthew x reader | 1.8k word count | explicit (minors dni)

“a flight attendant gets fucked at the airplane's bathroom”

contains: fem!reader, stewardess/flight attendant!reader, dom!matthew, unprotected sex, (airplane) bathroom sex, breath play (gagging), backshots, sir kink, slight strength kink, first meeting sex/strangers theme, mention of blow job & cunnilingus, pet names ("baby", "good girl")

“did you mean it when you said ‘anything’?”

you turned around to see it was the man from the business class. he was attractive. he smiled at you charmingly that you clearly missed the mischievous glint his eyes held.

“yes, sir. it is my job to ensure your flight is as relaxing and pleasurable as possible.” you told him with a slight nod of your head.

he hummed in acknowledgement. while the stranger was hot, you had a job to do. you continued walking down the aisle to head to your station. as you went, you made sure the passengers were okay by checking in and giving professional greetings.

footsteps behind you could be heard. was he following you? you inhaled to keep your irritation at bay before facing him again. you were taught how to deal with vexing travelers.

“sir, i suggest you head back to your seat. you can’t stro-”

“ah, i actually need to go to the toilet. can you lead the way there, please?” he cut you off. he said that while slightly leaning forward towards you. his voice was oh so innocent that it made you none the wiser. you were completely missing what his intention was with you.

“apologies,” you started.

‘bathroom, of course, where else would he go? stress was probably clouding your judgement,’ you concluded in your mind.

this was your third international flight consecutively so exhaustion must be catching up to you. you just hoped you wouldn’t get a complaint for appearing rude but the stranger seemed nice.

“sure, sir. i’d be happy to assist you. follow me,” you continued, hiding your embarrassment well.

his soft brown eyes locked into yours before drifting down. he was appreciating how your uniform fit you like a glove. no curve left hidden in your two piece ensemble. you even had a little scarf tied around your neck. cute.

and he followed you like you suggested. you lead the way while his gaze was trained on your ass.

once reaching your destination, you opened your mouth to bid farewell. before you could, he pulled you inside the toilet with him. though not by much, international planes had larger toilets so you were both able to fit inside. not comfortably, but you could make do.

he backed you to the bathroom wall.

“anything, right?” he reminded you before smirking. without any precedent, he crashed his lips onto yours.

this stranger kissed like he was devouring you. he had the intensity of a man in hunger. when you gasped in disbelief, it made it easier for him to slip his tongue inside your mouth.

disbelief be damned, though; you melted into him, needing no prompting to follow his lead. he wasn’t the only one who was hungry. your tongue glided along his, not fighting for dominance but dancing with him. this was going to give you some relief.

everything he said up to this point occurred to you that he was flirting. you were so out of it. you weren’t even sure when your hands found its way to be tangled in his hair or when his hand found its way to be underneath your panties, fingers finding your wet cunt and also putting pressure on your throbbing clit. your eyes instinctively fluttered shut as he played with your clit. the ecstasy that hit you made your toes curl in your shoes. he knew how to work you to your arousal.

“so, how does one get a membership at the mile high club?” he asked, breaking off your kiss. a string of saliva connected your mouths. his free hand went to tug the scarf around your neck. this little action had you feeling crazy. you wished he would pull it tighter to choke you.

“it’s simple, sir.” you said, suddenly bolder. your eyes heavy lidded. the confidence in your voice made him raise his brows in surprise. he dared himself not to groan out loud. instead, he rubbed on your clit a little bit rougher which made you hold on to his shoulders. his muscles tensed under your touch. you relished that feeling.

calling him sir almost had him cumming. 

digging your finger in his shoulders, you shakily stood on your tiptoes to whisper seductively in his ear, “just get me to orgasm.”

taking that as a challenge, he twisted your bodies so he could push you to the counter. he bent you over there without warning. your stomach pressed onto the edge of the sink.

“s- sir,” you weren’t stingy with the moans you let out. he watched your beautiful face contort intently through the mirror above the sink countertop.

“shh, baby. not so loud.” he cooed while running his hands from your clothed ass to your thighs. he then put your scarf to good use. he unraveled it before stuffing it in your mouth.

“we don’t want to be caught.” he explained as he tied the ends of the scarf behind your head.

“yes, sir,” you mumbled through the makeshift gag. as he tightened the scarf, you thought about the consequences you would get if you were caught fucking with a passenger. you were so lost in your arousal that these thoughts flew out your mind as soon as it entered, however.

you cannot stop this. you were trained to serve. your body moved on its own having a different master to listen to.

the sound of a belt unbuckling could be heard. a deep pool of excitement brewed inside of you as you listened to the stranger pull his pants and boxers down his legs. his fingers hastily unzipped your skirt, making it fall. your panties and stockings soon followed the clothes bundling on the ground.

you extended your legs open for him so he can have easier access to you. still, he smacked your ass and spread your ass cheeks a bit wider. there was a sting that stayed on your ass from his slap which made whimpers bubble out of you.

he rubbed his erection against you. you could feel he was big. you wondered if you could handle him. he coated his cock with your arousal before lining himself up to your entrance. the buttons on your uniform blouse dug painfully itself to your stomach.

“be my good girl and take it, yeah?” his voice became low. how he said those words made your skin prickle with goosebumps.

you moaned as he entered you. his girth stretching you out. he didn’t waste a second to thrust in you harshly. you both knew you had occupied the bathroom long enough. someone was bound to come looking for either of you.

tears gathered in your eyes as he pounded in you, chasing your pleasures as fast as possible. it didn't help you were gagged at the mouth. you tried gasping for air, feeling a little light-headed as he gave it his all. the tip of his cock hitting your cervix with every hard thrust he did.

he lifted your head by grabbing your hair, “look at you being a mess, baby. you like being used?”

maybe you did like being used. in the deepest part of you, it was almost like you knew your body found pleasure in letting go and submitting. your enjoyment in being gagged was a testament to it.

in the mirror, you could see how your usually sleek hair was now untidy. your eyes were watery but the mascara was still intact. thank god for waterproof make up. though, your red lipstick was smudged. it was even on the face of this handsome stranger.

you checked him out as he thrusts in you, losing almost control over himself. he had a strong defined nose and jawline. his biceps strained against the sleeve of his shirt. his one hand holding your head steady so you could face the mirror.

his jawline clenched as he slammed his cock to you like a wild animal. you engulfed every little bit of him around your damp cunt walls. the breaths coming from the two of you, ragged and heavy. the clapping from behind were louder than your pants for air.

“holy shit,” he groaned through gritted teeth when you clenched around him. he can feel you were about to cum (and so was he). his cock pulsed while the familiar feeling of an oncoming climax built inside him.

“let’s cum together, baby.”

as if his words gave you permission to, you climaxed along with him. your sounds were being muffled by the scarf in your mouth. he wished he could hear your pretty moans.

his cock was being squeezed by your muscles as if you were milking him. the feeling of his warmth flooded your inner walls triggered more of your orgasm. your fluids mixed with one another. the both of you defiling the cramped space.

this was by far the most exciting thing that happened to you while on the job. it awoke your spirit. this was a different type of exhaustion that washed over you. it was a sinful kind that you found delectable. your body shook but his arm came to clutch around your torso to pull you up against his chest. his strength saving you both.

you writhed in his grip as you both rode out your orgasms. his arm took great pleasure in holding you. he held you as close to himself as possible.

when you went limp, he undid the scarf in your mouth. it joined to the pile by your feet.

you took a large breath, inhaling as much as you could after being gagged. your voice sounded hoarse from unuse as you told him, “it’s my pleasure to welcome you to the mile high club, sir.”

“i hope you enjoyed your flight at in bloom airlines, gentlemen!” you told a group of nine men as they approached near the door. your perfectly lined red lips gave them a grin. customer service was your specialty.

they all replied to you various forms of thanks for the flight's smooth travel and your service. you locked eyes with the one who you got more acquainted than the rest. the one you snuck off to the toilet too many times for the span of your flight.

you entertained yourselves with your bodies. an exclusive amenity just for him. a mile high club privilege. anything he wanted— backshots, blow jobs, cunnilingus —you did all that but you didn't even get his name. he was just ‘sir’.

another kind of smile suddenly threatened to break out of your face; one that held a secret behind it.

he sent you a wink, “best i ever had.”

a/n: inspired by zb1 traveling to hong kong for kcon!!! i hope you enjoyed readying this. i didn't get much fics as i wanted to last week so i hope i can post more for this one but i think i might get busier. not sure, though! i do enjoy being here— writing and interacting. thank you for sticking by and reading through!

divider credit: saradika-graphics

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