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lambtotheslaughterr · 1 month ago

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thank you for all your kickass reblogs w reviews!💛✨ made my absolute day

When The Bough Breaks : Epilogue

A Rafe Cameron Mini Series

[THIS STORY WILL CONTAIN THEMES OF NON-CON/DUB-CON, MENTAL-EMOTIONAL-PHYSICAL ABUSE, ETC. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. 18+. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT]

WC: 2.3k

Dividers provided by @firefly-graphics

FINALE | MASTERLIST

You felt far away, Rose’s voice a distant mumble in the background. She prattled on beside you to the employee behind the counter. She picked out a couple onesies & insisted on getting them customized with the name of your unborn child, a feature the maternity store offered. But you felt nothing, could feel nothing. Only time you did is when the baby kicked or hiccupped. You wanted to feel ecstatic, lose yourself in the memories & joy from your first pregnancy. But the man who kissed your nearly full term belly at night & whispered to it good morning was far from who you would’ve picked to be a father.

Rafe had spent the last nine months of your pregnancy being the doting husband & affectionate father he prided himself to be. You couldn’t believe how seemed to be completely removed from the reality of the situation—that from the beginning you were an unwilling party. Yet there you were. Shopping for more baby clothes with Rose. You had plenty already, enough to clothe the children of America, but Rose never took no for an answer.

The only relief your pregnancy brought you was that Rafe stopped trying to sleep with you. One night, in the midst of your second trimester, you had woken to blood soaking the sheets. Rafe panicked, sure that the baby had been lost. But the doctor was happy to announce to the both of you that the baby was fine & healthy. However, she did say that sexual activity should be reduced to a minimum, if at all, to prevent any more scares. That’s how often Rafe fucked you.

You dreaded having the baby, not only because it would forever tie you to Rafe, but it meant Rafe would have at you as much as he pleased. You feared another pregnancy. Never before had you prayed for menopause to come early.

“_____.” Rose gently shook your shoulder, her manicured nails piercing you through your sweater. “Have you two decided on a name?”

You mean has Rafe decided on a name, you wanted to say, wanting absolutely nothing to do with this pregnancy. You bit your lip & shook your head. The employee behind the counter frowned, but it wasn’t a hard one. It was almost like she sensed your misery. Rose chuckled awkwardly, “I suppose I’ll ask the father.”

“Ask me what?” Rafe appeared behind you, an arm wrapping around your middle. His hand placed at the center of your swollen belly. He kissed the side of your head.

“The name!” Rose chirped, “I want to get a couple onesies customized.”

“It’ll outgrow them fast, Rose, really it’s not necessary.” You responded, feeling caged in by Rafe & Rose.

“’It’?” Rose sneered but kept the same bright, forced smile on her face, “You two are still insisting on not knowing the gender, I don’t understand.”

It was Rafe who spoke for you, “It’s a surprise. For the both of us.” He brought you into his chest, as if you had a say. You didn’t care what it was. It’d be a monster like it’s father.

“Charlie.” Rafe announced jovially. You glanced back up at him, your brows creased.

“Charlotte if it’s a girl, Charles for a boy.” Rafe held your stomach, “Charlie.”

“Oh, that’s lovely.” Rose turned to the employee, “Charlie it is.”

Rafe pulled you away then, wanting you to join him as he browsed. You didn’t understand why you had to be here. You never suggested any ideas: clothing, names, the nursery theme. It was all Rafe & Rose. Even the outfit you wore was courtesy of Rose. She had said that she never had a pregnancy & wanted to spoil you with maternity clothes. You were positive it was just a way to humiliate you, she dressed you like a Floridian grandmother.

“How much longer?” You questioned once you were a decent distance from Rose.

“Why, are you feeling sick?” Rafe asked but there was no amount of concern in his voice.

“Sick of all of this, yes.” You glared at him. He only smirked in return.

Then he cupped your face, bringing his face in to kiss you. To anyone, you may look the happily married couple, sharing in the enjoyment of their little bundle of joy, but it was all an illusion. Rafe stayed closed to you as he whispered, “You’re stuck with me, _____. Or did you forget our wedding?”

You tried, often, to forget that day. It was a beach wedding. Less than 100 people were in attendance but none of them your friends or allies. It was a day for Rafe to lay claim to his property, not to profess your undying devotion to one another. The whole day was a blur. It’s how you preferred to keep it. Because Rafe was right, you were stuck with him. For better or for worse.

“Now smile.” Rafe dragged a finger under your chin, “You’re too beautiful to frown.”

Rose joined the two of you then, holding up three onesies, “What do we think?”

Charlie Cameron, Daddy’s Little Girl, & Mommy’s Little Boy.

“They’re great, thank you, Rose.” Rafe spoke for the both of you. You ignored the onesies.

“My pleasure.” She grinned, stuffing them into a bag & handing it to you.

You reluctantly took it.

“Now, we must be off.” Rose checked the time on her phone, “We’re meeting your father for lunch remember.”

Ward. If getting pregnant & marrying into the Cameron family was the deepest pits of hell, Ward Cameron was the devil himself. He was the only one that wasn’t trying to fake anything, at least in front of family. In public, he was proud to show you off—the mother of his first grandchild. But in private, he made it no secret that he held you to a certain standard, to remember a certain threat.

Leaving the maternity store, the outlet mall was bustling. It was peak tourism season. Rafe kept a hand on your lower back as he walked at your pace. This pregnancy was incredibly more uncomfortable than your first. With Jesse, you were in bliss & your body responded well to the changes. This one however, your feet were swollen beyond recognition, you suffered indigestion, & your post-partem depression was already settling deep into your bones. The thought & feel of it all made you break into a sweat. You were beginning to feel dizzy.

“I need to sit.” You announced quietly, moving towards a nearby bench. Rose appeared mildly annoyed but gave a tight smile, “Oh, alright.”

“Do you need anything?” Rafe sat beside you, his hand holding yours.

A glass of wine & bottle of pills, but you pushed the quip away, “Water, please. Cucumber water.”

The cucumber was an excuse to send him away, hopefully both of them. Rose sighed but pulled out her phone, “Well go on, Rafe. I’ll call Ward, let him know we’re running late.”

She stepped a few feet away to make the call. Rafe glared at her back before facing you, “God, she’s annoying.”

It was the first time you managed a genuine smile, even if it was small & short-lived.

“I’ll be back. Don’t go anywhere.”

“Like I’d get far.” You mumbled. Rafe cocked his head but smirked, “I’ll chase you down. Always.”

That was a promise, you knew. But thankfully, Rafe left you. For the first time in what felt like weeks you breathed a sigh of relief. Cracking your neck, you ghosted your fingers across your belly, feeling for any movement. It was sleeping. It liked to sleep most often during the daytime, choosing to keep you awake at night. You had a nagging feeling that once it was born sleeping habits would remain the same.

You had your eyes closed, focused on your breathing when you heard footfalls approach you. Initially, you assumed it was Rose, but she had a discernable stomp in her heels. Slowly, you pried your eyes open, perhaps expecting to see a friend of the Cameron’s. But who you saw made you gasp.

“Moses.”

It was really him. He was wearing a powder blue button down tucked into a pair of jeans. His face was clean-shaven, a look unlike him. You stared at one another, though his clearly exhausted eyes were aimed directly at your belly.

“So, it’s true.” The sound of his voice brought tears to your eyes. It was really him! After the divorce was finalized, you never saw or heard from him—only in your dreams. His eyes shifted to the ring on your finger, “That’s not the one I gave you.”

Instinctively, you covered your hand. You wish you could hide your belly but there was no attempting that at the size you were.

“No, I—” But words failed you. What could you say? There was nothing.

“What are you doing here?” You changed focus.

Moses finally looked you in the eyes & your heart ached. It was the same heartbroken expression he carried the night you told him you wanted a divorce. You recalled he had asked you if there was someone else. You had lied. But your lie was on full display now.

“You look…” He started. You finished the sentence in your mind. I look horrid, ghastly, monstrous, an infidel, a whore.

“Beautiful.”

Tears spilled from your eyes as he looked you over. He wasn’t happy, but he wasn’t angry. You knew him well enough to know. He was simply sad. Deeply sad.

“Moses, I. I don’t know what to say.” Your voice shook.

He gave a half-hearted smile, “Are you happy?”

No! You wanted to scream it, to beg him to whisk you away. In a second, you imagined a life with Moses with another man’s baby. Maybe you could love your unborn baby then, if Moses was the one to raise it alongside you.

But you said nothing in response. Moses nodded in minor understanding, “That was rude of me. It’s not my business.”

“No, it’s okay.” You went to stand but he threw out his hand to steady you as you wobbled, adrenaline coursing your veins. “What are you doing here?”

Moses frowned but faked a courtesy smile, “Had some last minute business to finish before moving to my next location.”

“Oh? Where to now? Back home?” You imagined him back in the city, amongst friends & family, all the people there to support him.

“There is no home.” It was an instinctual response, one that you knew wasn’t meant to be said out loud, but you winced still.

“I mean, I am taking a couple years off. Going to travel. See the world.”

A dream the two of you shared. With Jesse.

“That’s…” Awful. “..amazing.” You gulped, “Where are you off to first?”

“Amsterdam.” Moses said faintly, but his eyes could only take you all in as you stood before him.

“Moses, that’s—”

“_____!” You jumped at the sound of your name. Spinning around, it was Rafe, holding a plastic coffee cup with water & floating cucumbers.

“No.” You whispered it so lowly, only you could hear it.

Rafe looked murderous. His eyes strained directly on your ex-husband. But Rafe hid his animosity as best as he could, joining the two of you, his arm draped across your shoulders. Moses pressed his lips together, a deep frown forming.

“Rafe, this is—”

“I know who it is.” Rafe smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. He held out his hand, “The ex-husband. We’ve actually never met before.”

“Only once, actually.” Moses replied, the same feigned kindness in his voice, “You were flirting with my wife in the backyard when we came over for dinner long ago.”

They shook hands. You watched as Rafe tightened his hold on Moses’ hand, “My wife now.”

Moses half-scoffed, half-chuckled, lowering his hand, “She’s an excellent one.”

“I know.” Rafe’s voice hardened, likely annoyed that Moses was unfazed by his attempt to assert dominance.

“I’m sure you do.” Moses peered at him suspiciously but finally looked to you, “It was nice seeing you, _____.”

“You, as well.” It took everything in you to not spill the truth about everything. But picturing him behind bars stopped you. It always did. Now you were only strangers.

“You’re going to be a wonderful mother.”

An inaudible sob escaped you. You brought your hand to your mouth to keep from crying uncontrollably.

“Thank you.” Rafe answered for you, his eyes never leaving Moses. But Moses didn’t give him any more attention.

“Well, goodbye.” Moses took a step back. You went to mirror him, follow him, but Rafe tightened his hold on you.

“Goodbye, Moses.”

Tears skipped down your cheeks as you watched Moses walked away from you.

Rafe exhaled loudly, heavily. He stepped into your line of sight, cutting out Moses entirely.

“That was…eventful.” His hands smoothed your hair before wiping at the tears on your cheeks, “But it’s time you move on. We have our own adventure waiting for us.” A hand fell to your belly. Rafe smiled proudly.

“Whatever you say.” You mumbled.

Rafe kissed you on your cheek before bringing his lips to your ear, “Smile, _____.”

He pulled back to look you in your eyes. Your stomach kicked.

“It’s the beginning of the rest of your life. And I will always be by your side.”

And you knew it to be true.

But you decided then, in that exact moment, that you were going to be everything Moses said you were. You were going to be a wonderful mother. If not for yourself, but for the sake of the life inside you. The baby couldn’t help who it’s father was, but it could benefit from having you as their mother. You swore, you promised.

Rafe had won. You couldn’t be saved. But your baby could. And you’d dedicate your life to protecting & loving the life within you.

and that is the end. WTBB is officially over. this is by far my proudest work to date, & it's a major thank you to all my readers & supporters who have given me so much feedback to this series. so thank you to all of you!

as always, comment, reblog w reviews, talk to me. i'm excited to hear everyone's thoughts!

thank you for reading

oona<3

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#dark!rafe cameron #dark!fic #thank you🥰

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lambtotheslaughterr · 2 months ago

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good pfp

U go gurl

hey thanks😘

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lambtotheslaughterr · 2 months ago

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Im sorry 😟 but the belt drooping kinda looks like a drooping wood 💀💀💀

welp. changing my pfp immediately💩

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lambtotheslaughterr · 2 months ago

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would you ever do a jj maybank dark fic?? i love love love your work sm!

thank you!!💛

& potentially. personally, i don’t have anything planned for him in my WiP but if when my requests are open someone asked for a dark fic w him i could deffo do it

#asks #jj maybank #dark!jj maybank #dark!fics

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lambtotheslaughterr · 2 months ago

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had to pull over to read this😭😭

thank you from the bottom of my twisted lil heart💛

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ dark!fic recs

CW: once again, these works contain dark and explicit themes that may be upsetting or triggering to some. please use your discretion and discernment.

@cherienymphe : when i first seriously got back on tumblr and got into dark!fanfic, cherie's was one of the first blogs i found. her writing was essentially my indoctrination. it was terrifying how much i loved it/her writing. truly phenomenal. i've read quite of few of her stories (mainly for rafe cameron, jj maybank, steve rogers, and peter parker) but i'll list my faves.

"when the party's over" - its something about this series...i think about it often. if you're into forced pregnancy or corruption tropes, tap in.

"wicked games" - i actually first read this one on ao3 before i discovered her tumblr and was absolutely gagged. another one i think of often.

"amnesiac" - the first series of hers that i ever read. absolutely traumatized me and i sobbed reading it. amazing storytelling.

"the hills" - another bangerrr. a one night stand ends in complete and total blackmail and entrapment. he just wanted to give her a better life *clown face emoji*.

"his father's son" - after ward death, rafe takes over the reins in more ways than one.

"teenage dirtbag" - this series single handedly made me a jj girl. the tension??? yup yup mhm.

"the less i know the better" - ironically my favorite part of this story is readers relationship with rafe but seeing jj slowly and then rapidly descend into madness? yeah.

"claimed" - a/b/o dynamics. brought me back to my wattpad days. still eat it up.

"daddy dearest" - steve meets a single mom and decides to be not the stepdad, but the dad who stepped up.

i'll be honest, i was a non believer in dark!peter but: "she's with me", "one last time." "suburbia" and "basic training" made a believer outta me. hands. down.

@lambtotheslaughterr : it absolutely amazes me the things that come from her mind. the level of creativity and originality needs to be studied. oona, you are criminally underrated.

“rise” - the first series of hers that i read. arguably the best series i’ve read on here thus far. this is the first part to her “the day the world ended” universe and it completely blew me away. i couldn’t believe that something like it had come from some silly little boat show. just brilliant.

“when the bough breaks” - the first work of hers i read. this one for me was a heartbreaking slow burn story, but the smut…makes up for it. yes yes.

“i burn” - sex!addict reader x rafe cameron. need i say more? actually, i will. the smut and tension in this one towards the end? it was shameful how turned on i was.

“one way or another” - buckle up, grab a snack, and prepare for the ride of a lifetime. that’s it.

“something wicked this way comes” - a single mom trying to escape her past, except her past is rafe cameron. this was one very spooky scary la la.

"summit" - the second part to the tdtwe universe. its still brand new but its already feeling like another banger, i mean it's oona. tap in.

@harryspet : rae was also apart of my indoctrination and boy did she do what needed to be done. her perfectly curated moodboards alone did it for me. very mindful, very demure.

"homestead" - what can i say...i'm a sucker for pregnancy stories :( and this series was no exception. absolutely delectable. enjoy.

"well kept" - classic millionaire ceo x reader, my younger wp reading self cheered gleefully. my love language is acts of service and boyy was this one speaking my language. had me at "scheduled braiding appointment."

"bambi eyes" - this one was one of those that made me want to take a good long look in the mirror and ask myself, "is this who we are...is this what we represent?"

@sherrybaby14 : this one is for the mcu girlies. more fics than you could ever ask for. everyone say "thank you, mother!"

"the distraction" - i'm starting to notice a kidnapping/stockholm syndrome pattern here...ANYWAY! work is realllyy stressful for steve and you just happen to be the perfect distraction.

@straywords : she's no longer active but her incredible writings remain so please, peruse. its like a beautiful museum over there.

"a break" - *gasp* another pregnancy story! stucky edition.

@darkficsyouneveraskedfor : an icon, a legend, she is the moment! another infinite library for my mcu girls. roo has all you could ever want or ask for.

@perlelune

"all too well" - yes, yes, another one, its who i am. rafe cameron proving once again that you can't escape him.

"lucky" - best friend!rafe x reader. he didn't know what he had until it was almost gone

"tag, you're it" - never read a scream fanfic before this one but boy did i have fun! chad is so pookie in this too :(

@honestsycrets : back when i was in my miguel era, sy single handedly kept me fed.

"starved | mio" - "mio", in which you babysit mayday and it gives miguel baby fever and "starved", in which he made you a mom...but its left less time for other activities.

"stung" - sex pollen/abo. reader gets bitten by an anomaly causing a reaction that only miguel can cure

"amor y respeto" - he just can't love you the way you need to be. so you and miguel break up...at the worst possible time.

"exclusive" - you and miguel are fuckbuddies. you want more, but miguel can't bring himself to give it to you. so you find company in hobie, who's there for you in all the ways that you need. miguel's not happy about that.

"canary" - you're a singer in the 1920s who's fallen in with the dangerous o'hara brothers.

"grande" - sex!worker miguel x assistant!reader. think...a pepper x tony kinda dynamic. except, miguel doesn't take kindly to certain slights. :)

@starfxkrinc : last but certainly not least! moony is a ridiculously talented writer and a mutal of mine. i found her early on during my resurgence on here. this is her new side blog (rip lovesickbrat and starfxkr!!) luckily she was able to salvage a lot of her past works and is back like she never left. i recommend her "western nights" series (really just the trailer park!jj tag in general) and her "ode to eaters" au. a queen of all things taboo. she does it for the girls who are drawn to the dark and scary. the gross and weird. <3

#lari's fic recs #dark!rafe x reader #dark!rafe cameron #readers supporting writers

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lambtotheslaughterr · 2 months ago

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cherie, back at it again with a man i’ve never heard of before but now want everything to do w😭😭

it’s chase andrews all over again.

AMAZING! as always. loooove when you come outta nowhere with a fic like this for us. you’re an angel (pun very intended)

Lead Us Not Into Temptation

Father Charlie Mayhew x Reader

Warnings: NON-CON, mentions of prostitution, mentions of infidelity

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies

summary: turning your life around is easier said than done when you tempt the very man meant to lead you to salvation.

♱

“Bless me, father, for I have sinned…”

The familiar words tumbled from your lips, and your gaze remained on your lap, eyes following your finger as you traced patterns into the solid black skirt on your frame. It kissed your ankle as you shifted your feet, and the reminder of the long fabric had you swallowing down less than gentle thoughts. You slowly reached up to touch the collar of your shirt, eyes briefly falling closed as you cleared your throat.

You’d spent hours agonizing over how you’d leave the house…

“It has been seven days since my last confession. These are my sins.”

Like clockwork, you listed the time you cursed for some accident or another and the time you took the Lord’s name in vain and the brief impure thought about that attractive man you’d seen in the grocery store. Every week, it was the same. Sins that you yourself would never have considered as such months ago that you were now hyper aware of. They climbed out of your throat seamlessly, remembering every single one until only one was left.

The silence between you and the man just on the other side of that wall stretched—a familiar occurrence—and you took your lip between your teeth. You could taste blood as you worried it, swallowing it down before clearing your throat again. You smoothed your hand over your skirt, and you furiously blinked, struggling to blink away the tears that had started to collect. As you sat in silence, you wondered why you were trying so hard to impress people that had already written you off?

“I’ve had…some hateful thoughts as well.”

You struggled to get the words out, always struck by just how emotional this made you. You looked up towards the ceiling, eyes roaming, and you hadn’t even realized that your breathing had started to pick up until he spoke.

Father Mayhew.

“Take your time,” he gently encouraged. “Speak when you are ready.”

It wasn’t the first time you’d heard those words, recalling your first ever confessional and how you’d cried. It was as embarrassing now as it was then, but it was necessary. You were determined to live differently now—to be different, now.

“Although I have abandoned my former life and…occupation…” you thought you heard him shift. “...I feel as if I will never truly be forgiven for it.”

You swiped your tongue between your lips.

“...will never be accepted.”

You recalled the eyes that often found their way to you during mass—the judgment, the disdain, the way in which some stared at you as if they didn’t know how to place you.

Every sunday it was the same. You’d wake up and agonize over how to present yourself in a place as holy as this. You’d fret that this skirt was too short and that dress was too tight. You’d fiddle with your hair for far too long and every lipstick you wiped off would stain your lips a little more than the last. You were constantly at a crossroad, torn between wanting to look nice for church and concerned about looking like…well…a whore.

You struggled to swallow.

“I see the way they look at me,” you eventually whispered, staring at nothing. “I can’t hear what they whisper, but I know it’s about me.”

You touched your throat, hating how tight it felt.

“It’s…discouraging.”

You didn’t want to use that word, but it was the only word that was appropriate. It made you sad, and you often wondered why you kept returning to a place that made you sad. Surely a church wasn’t necessary to ‘find God’...right? You didn’t think so, but you had wanted to start somewhere, and considering that none of your friends even owned a bible, they had been of no help. Stepping foot into a place that had only ever served to be ominous and oppressive in your eyes was the most terrifying thing you’d ever done.

…but then you had laid eyes on Father Mayhew.

He’d been the only one in the church at the time, and you would never forget the curious glint in his dark gaze. You’d had no doubt that he could see you were scared and unsure and in an environment you were wholly unused to. You’d appreciated the gentle way in which he talked to you, guiding you towards a pew in the front as you asked him questions that some people had answers to their entire lives. He hadn’t treated you like you were stupid, but more importantly, he hadn’t treated you like you didn’t belong.

You were willing to bet that he hadn’t even known about you then.

Although, months later, you were willing to bet that he did now…even though you’d never told him.

“Humans are flawed,” his smooth voice reached your ears through the wall. “We all fall short—even the most devout of us—and we find ourselves falling prey to the temptation of judgment…pride…lust…”

You intently listened. After all, he’d never said these words to you before, always giving you some speech about God’s love trumping all.

“I have no doubt that it is trying, but I am sure you will come to give them grace for their sins just as they will give you grace for yours. We are all God’s children striving to lead a life in his image…”

His voice lowered at that, and you frowned slightly, looking towards the wall and thinking to yourself that he almost seemed to be talking to himself now.

“He wants his children to love one another, a feat that is not without difficulty I’m sure you know…” that actually made you hold back a chuckle. “...but God’s love is powerful and he always grants forgiveness to those who genuinely yearn and ask for it.”

At that, you did smile.

You told him that you were truly sorry for your sins, and he told you to say ten Hail Mary’s, and you stepped out of the confessional feeling better than you did thirty minutes ago. You didn’t know how long the feeling would last though, and so you wanted to hold onto it for as long as you could, but you knew from experience that was easier said than done.

You touched the crucifix around your neck as you stepped out of your building.

It had once belonged to your mother, and despite how long she’d been gone and how down on your luck you’d been ever since, you could never quite find it in you to pawn it. It was real gold—probably the only real piece of jewelry you ever owned—but you just couldn’t do it, and you supposed that you were never meant to. Despite the many years you’d lived life as the complete opposite of a God fearing woman…it felt right sitting just below your collarbone.

Even if many would not agree.

You were no stranger to several men in this town—and the ones who often passed through on their truck routes—but that had not stopped you from seeking solace and guidance from a place you’d never stepped foot into in your life. You couldn’t lie and say it didn’t feel…strange to be in the same building as some of the men you’d serviced before, their wives and children at their side as they furiously avoided making eye contact with you. It felt even worse to watch the way the women would congregate together after church, excluding you all the while talking about you.

It felt somewhat pathetic for your only ally in the place to be the priest.

Although you sometimes wondered how true that was these days. You’d never once confessed that you used to be a prostitute—although the kids called it sex work these days—but you weren’t stupid. As godly and devout as they claimed to be, you knew that the church was filled with gossip and there was no telling who’d let it slip to the dark haired man. You knew when he knew though…

…because he looked at you different.

It wasn’t a bad different—thank God for that—but just…different, and while it wasn’t necessarily bad, you still didn’t think you liked it. Confession—being anonymous—never allowed for you to tell him your name, and considering you’d only ever spoken to him once outside of confession months ago, you didn’t know if he ever knew it was you he was talking to. You didn’t know if he knew that the woman he spoke so gently with each week and listened to cry on the other side of some window was the same woman who often shrunk under his heavy gaze as he looked down on his congregation.

You never felt like he was judging you, no, but you also never felt like he was looking at you as he did that first day, a gentle curiosity in his eyes. He wasn’t your friend—far from it in fact—but he felt like the closest thing you had to one in this church, and so you often forced yourself to find excuses for it. He watches you because he wants to make sure you’re settling in okay. He watches you to observe how other members of the church are treating you. He watches you because he’s wondering if you’ll ever come to confession, convincing yourself that he’s never recognized your voice all this time.

That is why he watches you, you told yourself.

No other reason.

“You always come to pray at least three times a week…”

The familiar voice startled you as you stood, hand lowering as you’d just finished signing the cross. Your hand was still on your chest as you turned to face him, a small smile on your lips as he stood directly in the center of the aisle. You hadn’t even heard him make a single sound, and you wondered how long he’d been standing there.

He slowly returned your smile with one of his own, although it was smaller, and the silent way in which he stared at you reminded you that he’d said something to you.

“Yes,” you finally said, moving away from the altar. “It helps with…um…really everything.”

He blinked at you, and you noticed that a strand of his hair was threatening to go rogue. He always looked so neat and perfect that it was hard to miss. Father Mayhew was handsome—if anyone had seen enough men to know it was you—but he was handsome in a way that you would categorize as flawless. Divine even. In a way that was untouchable and only meant to be admired in the most innocent of appreciation.

He slowly nodded at your response, and you didn’t miss the way he studied you—dark eyes drinking you in and taking note of every stylistic choice you’d made today.

“You know, I think I might see your face far more than those who have been coming here for years,” he lightly told you, a slight laugh on his lips.

You laughed with him, only offering him a shrug.

“I’m still new. I’m sure it just seems that way because you aren’t used to seeing me.”

He started to shake his head before you could even finish talking, and you watched him move closer.

“No,” he murmured—so low you almost didn't hear him. “I think you are perhaps my most…devout congregant.”

He touched your crucifix as he said this, dark eyes tracing the shape of it, and he was so close that you could smell his cologne. You blinked at the scent, finding it strange to know that he wore cologne. It shouldn’t be strange, you supposed, but you realized then that you didn’t quite view priests—view him—as human. As normal…

His eyes lifted then to finally connect with yours, and a crooked smile danced along his pink lips.

“It’s admirable,” he whispered. “More of my congregation could stand to follow your lead.”

You couldn’t ignore the way your chest bloomed at those words, almost hating how much validation you wanted from this place. Validation that you were a good person…you weren’t who you used to be…that you were worthy of something more, you didn’t know. It just felt relieving to hear such a compliment from Father Mayhew when no one else in the church would even give you a chance.

“Thank you, Father,” you quietly replied to him. “That means a lot to me.”

You watched him slowly inhale as he dropped his hand, and he seemed even slower to step out of your way. When you walked past him, you could feel his gaze on you—always watching—and you smiled when he called out to you, telling you that he looked forward to seeing you on Sunday.

No one was more sad than you when you had to disappoint him.

An unexpected cold had you bedridden for days, and while you knew that an illness was a perfectly valid excuse to miss church, you couldn’t swallow down the disappointment. You hadn’t missed a single Sunday since you first started going, and you thought to yourself that the first thing you’d do when you returned was explain your absence to Father Mayhew.

You had never anticipated him showing up at your door to get it himself.

No one ever knocked on your door these days, so the sound had taken you by surprise. Your friends—while supportive of the direction your life had taken—didn’t quite understand it and so you didn’t see them as often, and as for anyone else… Well, there wasn’t anyone else who would come knocking on your door. You didn’t do that anymore so no customers were going to be greeting you on the other side with their money in their hand and an eager grin on their lips, and you doubted any of the women in town would want to sit down for a chat anytime soon.

Your shock at Father Mayhew’s presence was all over your face.

“Father,” you stated, the lilt in your voice hinting at your surprise.

He looked just as you were used to seeing him—clerical collar still on, not a hair out of place, and a hint of a smile on those pink lips. You stood there gaping at him for all of five seconds before it struck you how rude you were probably being.

“I…I’m so sorry. Um…come in,” you told him, stepping out of the way and widening the gap in the doorway.

He didn’t respond nor move right away, looking past you into your small house with a look in his gaze that you couldn’t name. If he were anyone else, you might worry that he was judging where you lived. You watched his jaw briefly tighten, a noticeable strain in his face, and it only just occurred to you that maybe this wasn’t appropriate? Although you were positive you’d heard of priests and pastors visiting the sick before, and while you certainly weren’t on your deathbed, you didn’t see why this would be different.

Before you could say another word though, his foot crossed the threshold, and you closed the door behind him.

“I do apologize for the unexpected visit,” he said to you, gazing around before his eyes landed on you again. “...but when I noticed that mass was absent of a face I’d grown to look forward to, I became concerned.”

You couldn’t stop your smile at his words

“Oh,” you softly said. “Well, there’s no need to be concerned. It’s just a small cold that will be gone in a day or two.”

You watched him exhale at that, nodding to himself, and you studied him, surprised to see that he looked genuinely relieved at that.

“I’m glad to hear that’s all it is…”

At that, your brows furrowed, and you watched him slowly walk about your living room.

“I had feared that some of your fellow church goers had scared you off.”

Your lips parted at his words, and he turned and looked at you.

“They often fall into the temptation of judgment, after all…”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you didn’t know how to react with the knowledge that he knew it was you who came to see him once a week. You’d only spoken to him face to face twice, and you swallowed, looking away.

“I thought it would be a shame if they scared you off,” he confessed, and you noted that he was closer now. “I wondered what I would have to do to convince you to come back. Drag you, perhaps.”

You gave a soft laugh at that, although he didn’t join you, and it awkwardly faded. He stared at you in silence for what felt like a long time, and just when you were considering asking him if he wanted anything to drink, he reached out to touch the crucifix around your neck again.

“So devout,” he quietly said to himself. “It almost makes me ashamed…”

At that, you gave a heavy laugh, wondering how you could ever shame a priest.

“Why?”

“...because I see why they flocked to your door…money in hand.”

His gaze lifted as he said that, and you were still as you both just stared at each other. His words made you blink, and you were suddenly very aware of his hand practically on you. You couldn’t stop the slight frown that fell over your face, and for the first time in months—since you first stepped foot into that church—you felt…wrong.

“I see why their eyes trace every inch of you when you’re not looking…as if to relive the memory of what you felt like—tasted like.”

You finally took a step back, hand coming up to cover your necklace as if protecting it from his touch.

“What memories they must have of you…”

You wrapped your other arm around yourself, mind whirling to reconcile the man before you with the same man who’d always been so welcoming and gentle. Not once did you ever think he judged you for your past, and you supposed that you were right, but not once did you ever think he also might…

You hadn’t done that in over a year, but had it really escaped you so quickly that a seemingly devout man was still…a man?

“Father, I think you should-.”

“I don’t say any of this to offend you,” he interrupted, tilting his head. “I say it because I fight the urge to touch you every time you’re in my presence.”

You moved by him to make your way to the door, but like an ever present shadow you only just noticed, he was close behind.

“You can cover up as much as you’d like—wear skirts down to your ankle and shirts up to your chin…” his hand on the door halted your movements.

You felt his chest just barely grazing your back, and his lips followed suit, the softness of them brushing against your ear as he spoke. That familiar cologne invaded your senses.

“...but none of it can hide the temptation you pose by merely existing.”

You shrunk away from him at that, tears in your eyes as he verbalized the same fears you had every time you walked into the building. You flinched when his lips touched the back of your neck, heart dropping to your stomach, but you reached for the door handle anyway.

“Father, I’d like you to leave-.”

Your words were cut off by your own sharp scream, taken aback by the feel of his fingers harshly pressing into the skin of your throat. His hand rested on the back of your neck, and you pressed your hand to the door when his lips grazed your cheek.

“They’re all like rabid dogs…just waiting to pounce,” he mused against your skin, sliding between you and the door and forcing you further into your house with every step. “Just waiting for you to give up this charade and go back to taking their money for a quick fuck.”

You blinked, and a few tears escaped.

“...but they don’t know you like I know you.”

He grinned against your cheek, and you winced as he lightly nipped at the skin there.

“They don’t know that you come to church at least thrice a week to light candles and pray…”

You were full on sobbing now, and you could feel the cool metal of his ring against the back of your neck.

“They don’t know that you never miss your weekly confession, telling me every time you so much as say the Lord’s name in vain.”

His free hand was reaching for the buttons of your shirt, popping them open one by one, and you gasped when his fingers finally met skin. He dipped his head, mouth finding the skin of your shoulder and collarbone interesting before his hand searched for your wrist.

“They don’t know that you are the most pious woman to walk through those doors,” he purred, pressing gentle kisses to the inside of your wrist. “...and that I just want to ruin you for it.”

When his hand dipped between your legs, you were quick to try and stop him, still wincing at the tight grip on the back of your neck. Father Mayhew made a noise of disapproval, and your hand faltered when he harshly bit your shoulder.

“We are…and always will be…sinners…”

Once his fingers were inside of you, it was like the point of no return. You found it funny that he likened the men in church to that of rabid dogs when he himself was behaving like the very thing he used to insult them. When your knees buckled, he followed—one arm around you and holding you in place while the fingers on his other hand curved into you.

Every thrust of his fingers made you wetter—embarrassingly so—and when he pulled your head back, he forced a kiss onto your lips. He swallowed down your whimpers and noises of protest, a moan escaping him as he tasted the inside of your mouth. With him so close to you, you could feel the muscles and contours of his frame beneath his clothes, and you were forced to recognize your predicament and his strength and what that meant for you.

When you were face to face with him again, his hair was nowhere near as neat as it was when he first walked through your door. His pink lips were swollen and reddened from kissing you and dragging over your skin. Your pajama top had long been discarded, the bottoms long ripped and pulled off of you. Father Mayhew’s—Charlie—clerical collar was long gone, his shirt pulled open and hanging off of him.

You recalled the way your mouth had parted into an ‘O’ shape when the head of his cock finally dipped into you, stretching you with every inch and making your heart momentarily stop. His hand covered a breast, the feel of his ring cooling that singular part of your skin, the rest of you so overheated. His other hand was wrapped around your throat, and you clawed at his hand as he fucked you.

The sound of skin slapping against skin was loud in your tiny home, the only sound to rival it being his harsh grunts and your strained voice. Any fight that you’d put up had been quickly squashed down, shown in the harshest manner just how strong your priest was. You hated how good it felt, hated that you didn’t want this but was now forced to enjoy it. Nevermind the fact that you hadn’t enjoyed sex for the act itself in years…

…but of all people to find yourself in this predicament with.

Father Mayhew’s hands never stayed in one place for long. He seemed determined to touch every part of you he could get his hands on, lips tasting the saltiness of your skin. Sweat clung to your frame and his, his fingers sliding over you as he kneaded your thighs and your waist and your chest. Every time you reminded yourself how wrong this was, he’d push his cock into you to the hilt, and you’d involuntarily throw your head back.

You could feel your crucifix pressing into your skin, and your eyes watered.

“I must admit that I was��am—jealous,” he dragged out, voice hoarse and throaty and wholly unlike how you were used to hearing him. “Your devotion to God inspires an envy within me that I never knew existed.”

You took note of the scars on his back underneath your fingers.

“...a desire to have you completely devoted to me,” he bit out, covering your lips with his own. “You so desperately desire forgiveness and acceptance…and all the things you didn’t think you were worthy of having.”

He harshly thrust into you, making you gasp.

“...and I can give that to you,” he whispered into the kiss.

The power behind his thrusts had you scratching at both his back and the floor, eyes squeezing shut at the way his fingers dug into your skin. It was like he was both holding you to him and trying to prevent you from ever walking away. Your chest arched up into his as you gasped, choked whimpers climbing out of your throat with every push of his hips. He growled against your skin as his lips traveled to your neck, the sound almost demonic to your ears.

When you came around him—your first orgasm in over a year—you couldn’t swallow down the noise it forced out of you. You could feel blood beneath your nails and a slickness on the inside of your thighs, but all the while Father Mayhew didn’t stop.

With one hand pressed against the floor, he pushed himself up to look down at you. His free hand slid up your sweaty frame, coming up to wrap around the crucifix that rested against your skin. He tightened his hold around it, and he pulled on it, forcing you to lift your head and meet him halfway for a kiss.

“I want you just as eager to get on your knees for me…”

#cherienymphe #charlie mayhew #charlie mayhew x reader #father charlie mayhew x reader #father charlie mayhew

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lambtotheslaughterr · 2 months ago

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Take your time 💕

thank you💛💛

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lambtotheslaughterr · 2 months ago

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i apologize for not having updated for a while. in the midst of a family medical crisis & have not been in the headspace for it. i've been writing but have been slow at it as i don't like writing shit, i only want you guys to have my best. so i hope to update soon. thank you for your patience & understanding. lots of love.

oona<3

#will hopefully update soon

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lambtotheslaughterr · 2 months ago

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thank YOU for reading & reblogging every single chapter😭😭 you’re a gift & it was so much fun reading your feedback💛💛

When The Bough Breaks : Finale

A Rafe Cameron Mini Series

[THIS STORY WILL CONTAIN THEMES OF NON-CON/DUB-CON, MENTAL-EMOTIONAL-PHYSICAL ABUSE, ETC. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. 18+. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT]

WC: 3.8k

Dividers provided by @firefly-graphics

PART NINE | MASTERLIST | EPILOGUE

You didn’t recognize the woman in the mirror. She stared back at you, her hair dolled up, light make-up on her face, & an engagement ring on her finger. Who was this person?

The dress you wore was enough to your liking, but you loathed what you were wearing it for. It’s been a month since you last saw Moses, since you told him you wanted a divorce. The rest of that night seemed like a fever dream. You still had a hard time believing it was real. But it was. The person who slept next to you every night since, who fucked you awake & fucked you to sleep, who moved you into a new house—Rafe Cameron, your husband to be.

Today was your engagement party. It would be your public announcement as a couple, surrounded by people who praised Rafe, but knew nothing about you. Knew absolutely nothing about how you were blackmailed into marrying him. But you reminded yourself every second of every day that it was to protect Moses. If only you could have been faithful to him…

You moved in a trancelike state as you slipped into your heels, trying to ignore the glint of the ring on your finger. Rafe had bragged to you how much it cost, five zeroes he had said. But you didn’t care. You’d rather chop your finger off. And it was worse that it was Ward Cameron’s money who paid for it. Ward Cameron, a man not much older than you, about to be your father-in-law. Your stomach whirled for a third time that morning.

Ever since your relationship with Rafe began to spiral you had been painfully sick. You threw up often, felt dizzy when you were on your feet for too long, was nauseated by the sight of Rafe every moment you saw him. You blamed it on stress, discomfort, but something horrible, something much, much worse nagged your thoughts… You wouldn’t say it, couldn’t. You needed to pretend that the possibility of that happening was as unreal as your soon to be marriage.

Your heels clacked on the hardwood floor as you went into the main room of your home. You were no longer living on the beach, but you weren’t far, not at all. Ward insisted on you & Rafe still living nearby, so you were in the same neighborhood, just now around the corner & more inland from your home with Moses.

Moses. Tears pricked at your eyes. You had broken his heart. The look of betrayal & loneliness on his face when you uttered the dreaded words. You had nightmares about it.

“My beautiful, perfect fiancé.” Rafe met you in the main room, dressed impeccably in a semi-formal suit. He wrapped an arm around your waist, kissing your forehead. Then his hand found yours, the one with his ring on it, & brought it to his lips. “Soon to be my beautiful, perfect wife.”

You didn’t smile. Rafe feigned sadness at your expressionless face, bringing his palm to your cheek, “Did you need a glass of wine for liquid courage?”

Clearing your throat, you shook your head. Little did you know, being with Rafe 24/7 had sobered you completely. You hadn’t touched a drop in a month, even when you had dinner with his god-awful family. You constantly told yourself that to survive this new life, you couldn’t leave yourself vulnerable. You were on edge all the time as is, alcohol would no longer be your saving grace.

“Hmm.” Rafe smirked then removed himself from you, crossing to the end table near the front door. He grabbed a thick envelope, holding up for you, “This came earlier. From the lawyers.”

The divorce papers.

Rafe handed the envelope to you. You pushed back the tears threatening to fall.

“I suppose I’ll take care of it afterwards.”

“Take care of it now, _____.” Rafe gripped your wrist firmly, a warning. “I want to go into this engagement party with a divorced woman, not one that’s about to divorce.”

You wanted to argue, but over the course of the last month you learned not to. Your fire had burned out, Rafe & Ward snuffed it out.

“Of course.” You mumbled, pulling out the papers. You had never seen divorce papers in your life, never expecting to either. Holding them in your hands made your world spin.

There were red tape marks on empty lines meant for your signature. You wanted to read through it all, take your time with it, sit on it, burn it, never let them see the light of day. But with Rafe breathing down your neck, you glanced up at him.

“I need a pen.” Rafe swiftly produced one from the inside pocket of his suit jacket, “My pleasure.”

He was all too pleased with himself. This child who had everything handed to him life, getting yet another want of his fulfilled.

It took less than five minutes to sign all the empty lines. You didn’t care what Moses took. Even if he left you with anything, Rafe would never let you have it. Besides, it was always a joy of Rafe’s to remind you that you were marrying up—as far as money goes. But you didn’t care. You’d take being homeless over marrying him. Perhaps you could still run away…

As soon as you deposited the papers back into the envelope, Rafe took it. “My dad will take care of the rest.”

Of course he would.

But you just gave a tight smile.

“Now, let’s go. We’re already late & Rose hasn’t stopped texting me.”

Rafe led you out of your house & down to the car, sure to open your door for you. To anyone else, he likely appeared as a gentleman, but if only they knew. It’s only been a month after all, but apparently your engagement led to Rafe making a 180 in his life. He was now working under his father, excited to provide for you, & only touched coke every now & then. His new addiction was you.

After a quick ten minute drive, Rafe rolled up to the Kildare country club. Staring out the window, you felt bile rise in your throat. This would be your life now: social gatherings & ass kissing at the country club, Rose’s incessant & overbearing dinner parties, Ward’s hardened gaze never leaving you, watching your every move, & the worst of it all—Rafe being on top of you every single night. As much as you wanted to blame Rafe, Ward, Kildare, this was you who had done this. You had made the grand mistake of sleeping with the unhinged young man next door. Now, you had to live with the consequences.

Rafe grinned proudly at you from across the room. He was surrounded by his father’s colleagues & friends, congratulating him on his engagement. You, on the other hand, were sitting at a table near the front of the room by yourself. You had exhausted yourself of social niceties & feigned excitement about your upcoming marriage. The only thing that did bring you any kind of comfort was that other people too thought it was strange that a woman your age, a well-known married woman your age, was marrying someone almost 20 years your junior, let alone a Rafe Cameron.

One woman, a friend of Rose’s, had exclaimed, “Never thought Rafe would be the one to marry. Was sure he would be a lost cause.” Apparently, you were a savior. Or groomer depending on the whispers you heard here & there.

Regardless, this wasn’t a place for you, the kind of people meant for you. As much as you wish Sarah had been in attendance, she was nowhere in sight. When she had sworn that you wouldn’t see her at the wedding, you didn’t know that you wouldn’t see her period. And anytime you asked about her, Rafe would give you vague responses. But even if she was there, & she could forgive you, you still would never be able to tell her the truth about Rafe, about Ward. You had lost your only friend on the island.

So you sat alone, trying to blend in with the wall & be forgotten about. But of course, no such thing could happen for long.

The chair next to you squeaked as it was pulled back, allowing the person joining you to sit with you. You felt your lungs close up, a typical response for whenever Ward was within ten feet of you.

“Enjoying the celebration?” He asked, a glass of whiskey in his hand.

You forced a smile for anyone who may be looking, but kept your voice low for only Ward, “Hardly.”

“That’s a poor attitude to have, Mrs. McFarlane.” Ward tapped his glass, smiling knowingly to himself, “Or I suppose I should say Miss. _____, since your divorce papers came.”

So Rafe had given the documents to Ward like he said he would. If there was one thing you learned very quickly about this family, it’s that they were efficient & effective in their controls.

“It won’t matter what surname I take. I will always be a McFarlane.” You straightened your spine, wanting to now cower next to the patriarch of your newfound family.

But Ward only lightly chuckled in response, “You’re a Cameron now, _____. That’s something to be proud of.”

Images of Rafe holding you down every night flashed through your mind, your stomach whirled, panicked tears breached, “We’ll see about that.”

He leaned forward, an arm placed along the back of your chair, his face was close to yours as he spoke, “Don’t forget about our deal. You fuck up, your husband spends his life in prison. I’ll make sure of that.”

You turned to glare hotly at him, uncaring if anyone noticed. His face was mere inches from yours, “How could I forget when you remind me every second?”

When Ward was close up like this, all you could see was Rafe in his eyes. You saw how the insanity gene passed down so easily like it was a dominant trait in the Cameron lineage. You were under the thumb of two men, both of whom would never let you forget how you ended up there.

“Good.” Ward leaned back, finishing off the rest of his drink, “Now, smile. It’s the beginning of the rest of your life.”

It was late evening, the sun had set & many of the guests to your engagement party had left. You felt safe enough to escape to a private room down the hallway. Hopefully, Rafe or Ward wouldn’t come looking for you. The room you were in was much smaller then the reception room. It had one oak end table, two white floral-patterned Victorian style loveseats, & a full length mirror in the corner. On the wall was pictures of previous brides & their bridesmaids in the same room as they got ready for the big day. Your stomach rolled. It would be you next.

Feeling suddenly winded, you sat on one of the couches, holding your head in your hands. All you wanted was to call Moses, to tell him the truth, to take the risk. But you needed to learn to stop thinking about the what if scenarios & start remembering the threats. Moses would never be safe.

“So this is where you ran off to.” A familiar smooth voice sounded from behind you. You rose immediately, flattening the skirt of your dress as you turned to face Rafe. His cheeks were slightly, a dead give away that he was quite drunk, & his eyes were hooded with lust as he stared at you standing there caught like a deer in headlights.

Your internal danger alert system was going off. You began to round the couch towards the only exit that Rafe was blocking, “I just needed a breather. I’m okay now.”

But Rafe threw out an arm to stop you when you tried to sidestep him. His eyes peered into your own, “No, you’re not. I can always tell when you’re not okay.”

Then let me go. You wanted to say, but bit your lip instead.

“Let me make it better.”

When he leaned in to kiss you, you quickly turned your face, his lips landing on your cheek. Your body began to shake, knowing what was going to happen next. Rafe firmly gripped both sides of your face, forcing your head to angle towards his. Then he successfully kissed you. Your hands grasped his wrists, attempting to remove them from your face but Rafe was stronger. He was always stronger.

Without your consent, Rafe began walking you backwards, his lips hungrily attacking yours.

“Rafe, no.” You tried to mumble but he only smiled into the kiss, shaking his head at your weak plea.

You felt the seat of the couch press against the backs of your knees, just before Rafe roughly pushed on your shoulders to make you sit. He was quick to follow, easily pushing you onto your back against the tight corner of the loveseat. Rafe circled your upper body with his arms, acting like a cage as you struggled against him. Your own arms reaching behind him to try & pry him off, but he was as stable as a river rock.

“Just stay quiet & no one will get curious.” He said light-heartedly, as if he was sneaking off with a forbidden lover.

You whined into his mouth when you felt him nestle his way in between your legs, his fingers wasting no time in finding the lining of your underwear to begin peeling them off. Panicked breaths began to leave you, trying to fight off his hands but he was entirely unperturbed by your resistance. As he always was.

“I’ll make you feel better, baby.” Rafe breathed hotly once he finally removed your underwear.

Tears sprang forth. Most of the time, when Rafe would have his way with you, you could manage to shut off your emotions, to let your body respond to him the way it regretfully did, but this was not one of those moments. Everything was too real. You couldn’t fake it this time.

But Rafe didn’t care when you cried, it only spurred him on.

Soon enough, his gentler handling of you became rougher, more impatient. You heard seams pop as he fought to bring the top of your dress down, exposing your breasts. His mouth latched onto the skin there, sucking it tediously as he reached between you two to begin unbuttoning his pants.

Words would be wasted so you said nothing.

His fingers found the folds of your dry pussy, but as his thumb circled your clit & his fingers teased your tight entrance, you soon began to feel yourself grow slick with unwanted desire.

Against your control, a moan passed through your lips. Rafe leaned back just enough to smile at you, a proud look on his face, “There she is.”

In a second, you felt a hot throbbing heat in the space between your thighs. Your fingers tangled in Rafe’s hair, hanging desperately onto him as he pushed forward with the head of his cock. You bit your lip hard, trying to hold back cries of pleasure, but Rafe reached up to pull on your lower lip, sticking his thumb into your mouth.

“Suck.” He demanded lowly. And you did. Your lips closed around his thumb, & it was then that you tasted yourself. Rafe’s eyes darkened & with one harsh thrust, he was sheathed entirely inside you.

You both groaned in unison. Every time it felt too big, too painful, but the flames of indulgence always took over.

Rafe gripped one of your hips, his hand sliding to your thigh to hitch over his lower back, allowing him to go deeper. You let your head fall back, your mouth open as he began to fuck you into the couch.

He held himself up with the other hand, his eyes roaming every inch of your body, watching it respond to his every plunge. The other hand cupped your tit, his thumb grazing your sensitive nipple, sending waves of electric fire throughout your spine. As your body shuddered to his touch, you felt your walls clench around him. A wolfish smile appeared on his face.

“You’re mine.” He angled your face to meet his eyes. You whined in response.

“Say it.” Rafe angled his hips just so to hit your sweet spot.

“I’m…” But you stopped, feeling the waves coming closer, desperate for a crash.

“You are mine.”

Your arms, legs, your entire body clung to him as the waves crashed around you. Stars & blurred tears blanketed your vision as you climbed the highest peak. Rafe chased after you, his hand finding his favorite place at the back of your head, yanking you by your hair so he could stare at you, “Now.”

“I’m yours.” You sighed lowly, a rogue wave crashing into you. Rafe pressed his lips to yours, his hips jerking as he came. You twitched around him, milking him as he filled you with his hot cum.

His hips turned languid as he came down from his orgasm, his lips parted with pleasure. Finally, he collapsed onto you, your bodies molded together.

“You will always be mine, Mrs. Cameron.”

It was the following morning & you were greeted by horrid sight.

Rafe stood at the foot of the bed, a paper bag from the local pharmacy in his hand. You sat up, wiping the sleep from your eyes. But your gaze never left the bag he held.

“A gift.” He walked to your side of the bed, handing you the bag.

You didn’t take it, only staring at him with concern.

“C’mon, _____.” He said softly but there was a hint of a warning there. “hat are you scared of?”

He was smirking at you coyly. Knowingly. He knew. You knew, too. But you wanted to ignore it.

Rafe took one of your hands, opening your palm so he could empty the contents into your hand. A single pink rectangular box fell out.

Your eyes flashed to his.

Please, no.

“Wh—what?” You were never a good faker.

“You know what.” Rafe reached forward, brushing stray hairs out of your face before he gently cupped your cheek, “I was in denial, too. At first, I thought it was just the stress from all the changes: moving, divorce, wedding planning—why you were sick so often. I wanted it to be that way, too. I mean, I don’t think I’d be a good father.”

You gulped, bile rising for the umpteenth time.

“But then I remembered that you’ve already done this before. And then you lost it.”

Jesse’s face flashed in your mind, smiling.

“And I want it for you. For us. You deserve to be a mother again.”

“No.” You choked out, covering your mouth as the contents of your stomach threatened to spill.

“Yes, _____.” Rafe cooed, offering you a saddened smile, “And I deserve to be a father with you. A better father.”

The jab towards Moses made you wince.

“A better husband.”

His fingers grazed the packaging in your hand, “Now, more than ever, I know we can be anything as long as we’re together.”

Not parents. Your lower lip trembled.

“Take the test.” Rafe pulled back, his soft features turning hard.

He then grabbed your hand, pulling you as gently as possible out of bed but you knew he wanted nothing more than to yank you out & throw you into the bathroom. But he wouldn’t risk hurting you now, you knew that much.

But when you went to close the bathroom door, he pushed it back open, leaning against the doorframe. When he noted the fearful look on her face, he sheepishly smiled, “I just can’t wait.”

Shakily, you turned away from him, your fingers struggling as you pulled open the tabs on the box. Two tests fell out. You placed one on the counter, unwrapping the other. You felt Rafe’s eyes burning a hole in the center of your back.

Two lines if pregnant. One line if not.

You pulled down your pajama bottoms & sat on the toilet, letting your hair fall to block out Rafe. But you couldn’t move the hand that held the stick towards you, as if your body was locking down, resisting you entirely. Pee wouldn’t even come out of you. Your body didn’t want this. You didn’t want this.

But then Rafe stomped forward, making you jump back when he snatched the stick from you. He kneeled, holding the stick under you just so, & the other hand gripped your shoulder. With minced words & a minced smile, Rafe eyed you, “Let me help.”

Tears flooded you once more & your muscles relaxed out of submission. The sound of liquid trinkling against the porcelain bowl filled the room. Rafe’s eyes never left your face. When you were finished, he placed the test on the counter, his back to it with his arms crossed, staring at you.

You couldn’t take it anymore. You spun around to land on your knees, heaving into the toilet. Everything hurt: your stomach, your head, your heart. All of the pain was flooding out of you as you puked. Once there was nothing more to give, you flushed, leaning back to wipe the spit off your lips with your mouth.

Behind you, Rafe moved forward, his hands finding a place under either of your arms as he lifted you. He brought you to the counter, wetting your toothbrush before adding paste to it. You brushed your teeth, cowering in front of Rafe as he stood behind you, his eyes on you in the mirror. Then you took a swig of mouthwash.

Rafe pressed his chest to your back, his arms reaching around you to hold you. To anyone else, it may look like a loving couple, excited as they waited for the results of the test, but you knew. He knew.

His kissed the side of your head then, his hands wandering to the center of your belly. His touch was warm, but your skin was burning. You two stood just like that for some time. You had never felt more trapped. As you stood there, waiting in limbo for a result that would change the rest of your life, you then promised yourself that if one line appeared, you would run away. Or better yet… you’d find your bottles of pills & make yourself one last heavily medicated cocktail.

Rafe let you go then, his hand reaching for the test. He brought it up closer to inspect.

“Mrs. Rafe Cameron.” His voice sounded muffled & far away, “Take a look.”

Looking yourself in the mirror, into the eyes of the woman you didn’t recognize, you swore to yourself then. If there wasn’t life growing inside you, you would end yours.

we are done! (well, almost). still have the epilogue to upload which will be a major time jump. so! how are we feeling?!

as always please share your thoughts, love, & support but dropping a comment, reblogging with reviews, or chatting w me via ask box. this has been my favorite series to write thus far & all i want is to talk about with you all. so please, talk to me!

thank you for reading!

oona<3

Requests are currently CLOSED.

Read this post on why doing more than liking a tumblr writers work is essential to our content creation.

taglist: @pr300877 @jsrafesgirl

#rafe cameron x reader #dark!rafe cameron #rafe cameron #dark!rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #dark!fic #non con fic #dark!fanfiction #outer banks fanfiction #dark!outer banks

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lambtotheslaughterr · 2 months ago

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seriously👏👏

& i know there’s not a lot of ward cameron love out there but i think the mans obviously got potential to be dark towards reader.

ugggh, i have an ever growing 'to write' list that features tons of characters & plots & whatnot (seriously, over 50 stories in my notes) & i try to stick by them in order of when i thought them up, but all night last night i outlined a whole dark!lovetriangle with dark!rafe cameron x reader x dark!ward cameron & i feel like it'll never see the light of day because there's 50+ stories before it

organized OCD is not fucking cool ya'll

#dark!rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #dark!fic #dark!rafe cameron x reader #dark!ward cameron #ward cameron x reader #ward cameron

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lambtotheslaughterr · 2 months ago

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Summit : Chapter Five

A Ransom Drysdale Series

[THIS STORY WILL CONTAIN THEMES OF NON-CON/DUB-CON, MENTAL-EMOTIONAL-PHYSICAL ABUSE, ETC. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. 18+. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT]

WC: 5k

Dividers provided by @firefly-graphics

CHAPTER FOUR | MASTERLIST | CHAPTER SIX

all AI images are created from prompts i wrote. they are not real images.

793 days since the world ended

The doe was in your sights. You had Ransom’s father’s hunting rifle balanced against your shoulder. He had attempted to show you how to use it, to not throw yourself off balance when it kicked, but you had been taught to hunt a young age. So when he moved forward to shadow you, you simply moved out from under him & shot at a 45 degree angle into the sky, not losing a smidge of balance.

He had looked impressed, “Alright, then.” He commented, an amused smile on his face, “You know what you’re doing.”

You offered a sarcastic smile at that.

Then you two moved through the forestry for a few hours. It was about midday when you came across the first sign of life. You both froze, peering around silently for the doe. When you spotted her, she was standing in the middle of a clearing, sniffing the earth floor. You & Ransom were about 30 feet away.

Quietly & slowly, you both lowered yourselves until you were on your front side. Ransom remained on his knees beside you as he watched the doe while you finessed the scope on top of the rifle.

Then you peered through the lens.

She was a beautiful one. Fully grown but on the younger side. Her ears were perched, listening for any danger, but she never picked up on either of you.

You steadied your breathing, your finger just on the side of the trigger as you readjusted the rifle.

Ransom whispered beside you, “What are you waiting for?”

You tossed him a narrow glare.

He sighed heavily but quietly. You saw in the corner of your eye as his jaw ticked.

Peering back through the lens, you watched as the doe was none the wiser to her impending demise. For a moment, you thought about how not too long ago she was you. Alone in the forest, just trying to survive before two men decided to attack you.

Who were you to decide that the doe’s life was worth taking?

Thoughts riddled you, making you question whether it was necessary. After all, there was still plenty of food left inside Ransom’s home. Neither of you were hurting. Yet when Ransom asked you earlier that morning if you wanted to hunt game with him, you were more than happy to join him. It had been a while since you’ve properly hunted, especially with a rifle.

But now there you were, the doe ready for the taking, & you were hesitating.

“Give me the gun.” Ransom lowered himself till his voice was in your ear.

No. You tensed & relaxed your muscles as you gently placed your finger over the trigger.

With the doe locked in your sights, you exhaled, closed your eyes, then pulled the trigger.

A shot rang through the forest & you heard the bullet whip through the air before making impact. The doe wailed before thudding to the earth.

Ransom jumped in the air beside you, “Nice fuckin’ shot!”

You slowly opened your eyes, & realized only then that your arms were shaking. Shaking off the nerves, you stood yourself up & handed the rifle to Ransom.

He took it proudly as he smiled down at you, “Guess dinner’s on me tonight. You killed, I’ll cook.”

The two of you began making your way towards the clearing wear the doe lied. But as you grew closer, you heard the moans.

“Ah, shit.” Ransom uttered as the two of you stepped into the clearing.

There, in the center, with a small pool of blood beneath it, the doe groaned in pain. You watched as it kicked it’s feet in reaction to the both of you appearing. You stared at it’s body, noting the bullet wound. You had missed the chest cavity by a few inches.

“We gotta put it out of its misery.” Ransom told you, producing a hunting knife from his pocket, “Want honors?”

But you made no indication of having heard him.

The doe was staring at you as you were staring at it. You felt your race quicken & shatter. You swallowed a nauseating lump forming in your throat as you slowly approached the dying creature.

“I wouldn’t…” Ransom started saying but you ignored him.

The doe struggled some more as you kneeled near it. Then very slowly, you brought your hand towards it & began running your palm along its neck, comforting it.

I’m sorry.

It moaned in pain again. You saw the fear in her eyes as she watched you warily.

As you pet it a few more times, you felt a few tears roll down your cheeks.

Then you bent forward, your head closer to hers. Your forehead was just about to touch hers when she suddenly jolted & whined louder.

You jumped backwards, falling on your butt as you looked to see what caused her sudden outburst.

Ransom had stuck a knife into her chest, right where her heart was, & twisted.

The doe released a final breath of air before stilling.

Your jaw shook, the need to sob coming on strong but you kept it at bay as you saw Ransom’s hand pull the knife out.

“Sorry.” He said, avoiding your eyes as he stared at the now resting doe, “She was in pain.”

You simply nodded. Had you shot her right to begin with, she would’ve had a quicker death. Ransom completed the task for you.

“You alright?” He asked, his eyes finally meeting your own.

You signed back.

“Well…” He sighed, nodding to the doe, “now comes the hard part.”

You had tried helping Ransom with the gutting process but you found your hands shaking when you tried. Eventually, he insisted that you just sit back & relax while he gets it done. You sat on the edge of the clearing, your back to the process & your hands over your ears as you attempted to block out the gruesome sounds.

Thankfully, Ransom had been quick with it, & even made sure to toss the remains into the forest before having you come over to help him.

He took the front two limbs of the doe as you gathered the back two. Then you two began your journey back to the estate.

Fortunately, Ransom let you lead the way, leaving the doe you killed you & were helping carry quite literally behind you, out of sight. Then you were able to focus on getting back without shaking.

You didn’t understand your reaction back there. You had never had a problem hunting before. Perhaps at the very beginning of your lessons, but you always reminded yourself of what your mother had said, & since then, you’d been able to hunt fine. But all of a sudden, out of nowhere, it was like you had forgotten all those ethical lessons & reminders. You didn’t understand, but you hoped it would be the only time it happened.

After a few breaks & couple hours, you & Ransom finally made it back to the estate. Once the two of you reached the backyard, he dropped the doe & nodded towards the house, “Why don’t you go take a bath, I got it from here.”

You frowned slightly, signing to him. Are you sure?

He paused to remember your own lessons to him with sign language.

“Yeah, it’s fine. Gonna be a couple hours before dinner is ready so just take your time, nap, do whatever. I’ll let you know when it’s time to eat.”

Normally, you’d sign your argument to him, knowing you were more than capable to assist him. But you didn’t have the heart.

Signing your thanks, you turned your back on Ransom & the doe & headed inside.

A bath sounded like a great idea after sweating for a handful of hours. But your energy was quickly dissipating. All you wanted was to lie down & nap for however long your body would let you.

So, you decided to do just that.

Once in your room, you locked the door & slipped out of your pit-stained shirt before crawling under the sheets of your bed. It was still bright outside & the sun bled into the room, keeping it warm but you didn’t mind. Having grown up in the south your whole life, it wasn’t nearly as warm as you were used to. You had slept under worse circumstances.

As you rolled onto your side & tucked your knees into your chest, you wrapped your arms around your chest & felt your eyes flutter close.

You woke with a start. Your chest heaving & covered in sweat. You sat up feeling groggy & when you glanced down, you noted how the covers you had fallen asleep with were kicked off, all waddled together at the foot of your bed.

Sitting forward, you wiped the sleep from your eyes & glanced around. It had gotten dark out, but it wasn’t night, not yet. You imagined it was late evening.

Slipping off the bed, you grabbed the towel you typically used from the chair closest to the door & entered the hallway.

You could hear faint music coming from downstairs. You imagined Ransom in the kitchen, making the dinner he told he was going to do, & allowed yourself a small smile.

It had been around a month since you’ve met him & as the weeks passed, you found yourself living a domesticated life. The estate sat on a number of acres, the closest abandoned house a 10 minute walk away. And if it hadn’t been for the constant reminder in the back of your head that the world had ended, you’d be convinced that you were living the simple solitary life with a man you met in the woods.

But that wasn’t the case. You were a survivor surviving with another survivor. And as surreal it felt sometimes to think that this could be your life should you choose it to be, it would never actually be real. All good things must come to an end, & your end goal was still St. Johns.

Walking the rest of the way down the hallway, you entered the bathroom. What you saw surprised you. There were candles placed around the space & you saw steam billowing from the already filled tub.

Had Ransom taken a bath?

But you answered your own question when you reminded yourself that Ransom had his own bathroom. He rarely used the one you did.

So he…

The thought unnerved you. There was no one else who would have set this up for you. Ransom had proven to be mostly trustworthy, but he, more than you, seemed to enjoy the domesticated like the two of you had unintentionally formed together. You didn’t want him to feel like he was obligated to take care of you, let alone, wanted to take care of you. And at that thought, another uncomfortable realization dawned on you.

How would he react when you did finally leave? Because you would leave. One day. Sooner than later.

So far, he had never tried to stop you from leaving, not forcefully anyways. He had made arguments on why you staying would be beneficial for you both, which is ultimately why you had made the decision to stay for a bit longer, but it was a choice.

Still, part of you was worried that the longer the two of you lived together during the end times, he would make it harder to leave.

But you hoped that was just your paranoia.

So, pushing those thoughts to the side for now, you undressed & slipped into the tub, allowing your muscles to relax & re-strengthen.

You stayed in the tub until you began to shiver. The heat of the water having cooled after a lengthy amount of time. You found yourself dozing off a few times during your wash but managed to stay awake.

Once you got out of the tub, you dried off then wrapped yourself in your towel before gathering your lump of clothes. You began making your way to the door to leave when you paused.

A shadow crept on the other side & you stilled as you watched it shift.

He was there, on the other side.

Mild fear coursed through you as you realized how vulnerable you were. All you short history with Ransom flew out the window when you spotted his shadow under the crack of the door & all your survival instincts locked in.

Despite appearances, Ransom wasn’t a friend. He was still a stranger, a man. He wasn’t your father, or even the boys on the farms that you grew up on. And even so, you wouldn’t trust those boys either.

Quickly eyeing the space, you spotted an object you could use as defense if need be. It was a heavy marble ball, a decorative piece. It was bigger than your own hand but you still gripped it roughly. Swallowing a lump that had formed in your throat, you kept the ball hidden behind your back as you stepped towards the door. Your eyes never left the shadow peeking in from under the crack.

The only offensive tactic you had was to catch him by surprise. So, as quick as flash, you unlocked the door & swung it open.

Your arm jolted, prepared to raise the ball & bring it down, but you halted when your connected with Ransom’s.

He was leaning on the wall opposite of the bathroom door. But more so, he looked casual, as if he was simply waiting in line for the bathroom. It wasn’t until he smiled kindly at you that you took in the rest of his appearance. Unlike his usual t’s during the day or his sweaters at night, Ransom was dolled up; wearing a white button down tucked into a pair of black dress pants. His feet were bare.

“You alright?” He finally asked, having must’ve noted your defensive stance. The ball was still hidden behind your back. Your fingers ached from the weight of it.

You nodded, eyeing him warily.

Ransom accepted your answer before continuing, “Dinner’s ready. And I made it extra special so I laid something out on the bed for you. You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want, but I figured after this afternoon’s gore we could do with some fun.”

Fun? The word seemed foreign to you.

You stiffly nodded once more.

“Okay, well.” It didn’t escape you how he did a quick once over of you. And it was then that you were reminded you were naked with only a towel covering you.

You stepped back & behind the door, the ball still tight in your palm.

“I’ll leave you to it. See ya down there.” With that, he pushed himself off the wall & headed for the stairs before disappearing down them.

You frowned after him, listening until you heard his footfalls on the ground floor. Finally, you released a breath of air before allowing your muscles to relax. You returned the marble ball to its original place before peeking your head into the hallway once more. Ransom was nowhere in sight.

Quickly & quietly, you sped walked to your room & slipped inside, shutting the door behind you & securing the lock.

Ransom had not been up to no good, but you had to remind yourself you couldn’t trust him, not fully anyway. It was still you vs. him vs. the world.

Turning to the face the room, you about made for the nearby dresser where Ransom had left you clothes that belonged to his cousin but you had only taken a step when you spotted the dress on your bed.

It was lacey & pink, reminiscent of the 40’s or 50’s. It looked almost vintage but you had never worn, let alone, owned anything of the sort so you couldn’t say for sure.

Fingering the fabric of the dress, you looked at the objects surrounding it. A pair of matching pink shoes, a jeweled bracelet, & a pair of pearly white earrings.

Rasom expected you to wear this?

You recalled how he said you didn’t have to. But as you stared at the items, you thought there would never be another reason to wear something so…pretty. And thought pretty wasn’t your thing, you figured perhaps Ransom was right. After today, it wouldn’t hurt to be something, or someone, else.

Dropping the towel, you got changed into the dress & slipped your feet into the shoes. The bracelet was loose on your wrist but not enough to fall off. It wasn’t until you picked up the earrings that you realized a dilemma. Your ears weren’t pierced.

You stood in front of the only full length mirror in the room, holding the earrings up to your ears. They did add a little flare to the fit.

Chewing your lip in contemplation, you steeled yourself as you brought one of the earrings to your lobe. Wincing quietly, you stuck the earring through until you heard your skin pop & the narrow metal rod slid through.

That wasn’t so bad…

You did the same to the other ear. Your lobes throbbed from the sudden assault but you’d felt worse pain. There was really nothing else to do to finish getting dressed. You had never learned how to do your hair or make-up, so you simply fingered your hair until it looked adequate. It was still wet but you didn’t mind.

Staring at yourself in the mirror, you admired yourself once more. This would likely be the last time you dressed in something so elegant. The world had no room anymore for the finer things in life.

Leaving the bedroom, you walked down the hallway & descended the stairs. There was no music playing but you could hear the crackle & pop of a vinyl still running. You followed the sound until it led you to the dining room.

You paused in the doorway, taking in the room. You had been in here before, but only in passing. Now it was lit up with candles & the mobile vinyl cart was situated in the corner. The table had been cleared of all placemats except for two at either end of the 10 person table.

At the other end of the dining room, Ransom appeared, carrying two plates in his hands. He stopped & stared at you, a faint smile tugging on the corners of your lips.

“Wow.” He breathed out, his eyes twinkling as he took in your appearance, “You look… beautiful.”

The word made you shift awkwardly as you glanced down at the dress. You shrugged your shoulders.

Ransom stared in awe for a moment longer before he cleared his throat & shook his head, “Dinner is served. C’mon, take a seat.”

He put one plate down on the furthest end of the table before closing the distance towards you. He placed the last plate before pulling out the chair & gestured for you to sit. You flicked your eyes toward him before finally moving. You signed your thanks before sitting.

“You’re welcome.” Ransom winked at you once before he tucked the chair you sat in.

On the plate before you was a mix of carrots & potatoes, a cut of meat, which you knew to be from the doe you killed earlier, & a twig of rosemary. It smelled delicious & your stomach growled audibly as proof.

Ransom chuckled as he stood by the vinyl player, re-adjusting the pic. La Vie En Rose by Louis Armstrong began playing.

At the first set of familiar notes, you felt your chest tighten. Louis Armstrong had been your mother’s favorite.

Ransom swayed slightly to the music before meeting your eyes, a smile graced across his features, “Brings me back to my childhood.”

You, of course, said nothing but waited until he moved to sit in his own chair. But before he fully sat, he shot straight up, “Ah, almost forgot.”

He grinned joyfully before disappearing from the dining room. Your stomach whined as the scent of the meal before you wafted to your nose. Your fingers tangled themselves within the hem of the dress. Clattering noises came from the kitchen off the door Ransom disappeared through. You wondered what the hell he was up to before he finally reappeared again.

This time, he was carrying two wine glasses & a bottle of wine by the neck, “Can’t forget the most important part of eating venison.”

He approached you & uncorked the bottle as he did before placing down a glass before you, “Red wine. Cabernet. Really enhances the experience.”

You felt your eyes widen slightly as you watched the rich, dark liquid pour into your glass. Your parents had allowed you a sip of beer or wine in the past when you were in high school, but you had never really drank seriously before. The world ended before you could indulge in the common pastime.

Ransom finished filling your glass before pouring himself one as he returned to his end of the table. You watched, unsure of what to do before he finally met your eyes, raising his own glass, “To… us. To the doe. To a new beginning.”

It was a task to hide your frown this time around, but you succeeded, hiding behind the glass of wine you raised yourself. Mirroring Ransom, you brought the glass to your lips & took a sip. The flavor was jarring, not having tasted something so heavy & mildly sweet at the same time. It was almost like a syrup texture but not. You weren’t sure how to feel about it.

“Now,” Ransom smiled from across the table, “let’s dig in.’’

It was a relief to hear those words & you wasted no time to begin digging in. The carrots & potatoes were like a long forgotten dream, not having had fresh & seasoned vegetables in what felt like forever. The venison too was a delight, & you silently thanked the doe for her sacrifice like your mother had taught you, allowing you to enjoy the meat rather than grieve it.

You were completely lost in your food, practically stuffing your face that you had forgotten Ransom was even present. It wasn’t he made a grunt of amusement that you suddenly paused & shot your eyes upwards. He was watching you, leaned back comfortably in his chair, the wine cupped in his palm as he chewed lightly.

“Please, don’t stop. It’s not often I get to watch someone enjoy my cooking. Wasn’t much of one before the world went to shit.”

Despite his encouragement, you swallowed the food in your mouth & sat straight. Though you had no appearances to keep up, you were reminded that you were wearing a dress way out of your economical status & you likely looked like a feral animal in it as you ate rapidly. You willed yourself to slow down & take it easy.

“Don’t forget about the wine.” He nodded towards your glass. “It’s a game changer.”

Feeling the spotlight on you, you quickly grabbed the glass & took a drink, but too much was too late & you began coughing, the thick flavor of the wine making you choke slightly.

“No.” Ransom laughed softly, “Here.”

You covered your mouth to try & cover your coughs but you watched warily as Ransom stood, holding his plate in one hand & his glass in the other. Then he moved to your end of the table before taking a seat to the right of you.

“Like this.” He cut himself a small piece of the venison before popping it into his mouth, then he swirled the wine in his glass before taking a small sip.

“Your turn.”

Following his directions, you cut yourself a small bite & brought it to your mouth. Then you grabbed your glass & moved it towards your lips but Ransom reached out, his hand grazing your wrist to stop you.

“Swirl it.” His met yours, “Slowly.”

The wine sloshed wildly for a second before you found the right momentum. You eyed Ransom for approval. He nodded once, taking a sip of his own as he watched you.

Then you finally took a sip.

Flavors burst together in harmony on your tongue. The wine paired with the venison lying in wait made for a new & exciting taste. The wine wasn’t nearly as heavy but added more juice to the meat as you chewed.

You moaned happily, a small smile appearing on your lips.

“See.” Ransom commented, “Told ya.”

The two of you ate in silence the rest of the meal, just enjoying the food, wine, & soft music. You had cleared your plate & Ransom his. Once the two of you finished, Ransom placed your plate on his before shifting them out of the way.

“So, how was everything?”

You nodded, confirming your enjoyment.

“Good, good.”

Ransom then clinked his glass with yours, “Would you like some more?”

You hadn’t realized you polished the wine off.

Before you could shake your head no though, Ransom was already pouring the two of you another round.

What the hell? You thought. Ransom had made tonight something special, another glass would be okay.

You signed your thanks once more before taking another sip. Ransom signed back. At that, you both shared a smile.

It was a few minutes later when the vinyl scratched before humming, signaling the end of the record. Ransom stood up & approached the cart. On the bottom shelf of the cart was a plethora of vinyl’s in their jacket. He pulled out one that was encased in a faded white jacket that had writing in marker on it.

“My cousin, Meg, was into making her own vinyl records. Kind of like how we used to burn CD’s but with vinyl’s.” Ransom shared with you as he removed the record from its sleeve. You stood from your seat, & the world around you shifted slightly. You caught yourself on the table, stabilizing yourself.

You knew well-enough that it was the wine. You had never been drunk before, but from how your father would speak about it, you knew this is what he had spoken about. Ransom, fortunately, hadn’t noticed as his back was to you. So, you steeled yourself before straightening your posture. You didn’t want to appear drunk. This second glass of wine would be your last to ensure that.

“I found this once a couple months back in the room she would stay in. And I was listening to it earlier while you slept & there was this song…” He placed the vinyl onto the player & moved the arm over the disc.

“I think it’s suiting.” He glanced at you over his shoulder.

Piano music began to sound along with the smooth, deep voice of a man.

“Don’t know the name of the song or the artist, but I think you’ll appreciate it. Considering the state of the world.”

You stood there as you listened intently to the lyrics.

And here it is, our final night alive

And as the earth burns to the ground

Oh, girl, it’s you that I lie with

As the atom bomb locks in

The music crescendo’d & you felt your skin erupt with goosebumps. Ransom was peering at you & it made you shift awkwardly. To hide your awkwardness, you turned away slightly to take another sip of wine.

The song stopped suddenly & you turned to face Ransom, he had gently lifted the arm & moved it to the edge of the vinyl. The song started over.

Ransom approached you then, his hand held out, “Dance with me.”

What?

Had you been one for words, you would’ve stumbled over them.

“C’mon.” Ransom gently grabbed your own hand & tugged you closer to him. Your chest nearly bumped into his but you managed to find your footing before you could.

You grunted slightly as Ransom wrapped an arm around your waist, a hand on the small of your back. His other fingered it’s way down to your hand, raising it to place it on his shoulder.

“This okay?” He asked, his eyes peering down into your own.

Even your many years of signing failing you as your hands failed to move to life.

He took that as your compliance.

And we’ve drunk a couple a couple of bottles, babe

And set our grief aside

Ransom began swaying your bodies to the music & you felt your head loll slightly. You forced your head upwards. It was too intimate all of a sudden & you kept your eyes low, staring into his chest. Your feet didn’t move in sync with his as he moved the two of you & at one point you nearly tripped.

“Here.” Ransom chuckled lightly.

Shiver danced up your spine as one hand of his fell to your thigh, easily moving your leg forward until your foot was on top of his. Then he did the same to your other leg.

He returned his hands to your waist but you still felt his touch on your thighs.

Now, with your shoes on his, you danced easily.

We creep up on extinction

I pull your arms right in

I weep and say, “Goodnight, love”

While my organs pack it in

And here it is, our final night alive

And as the earth burns to the ground

Oh, girl, it’s you that I lie with

As the atom bomb locks in

Ransom leaned in, his head nearly in the crook of your neck. His lips were at your ear.

“I want to hear your voice.”

Your tongue, for once, felt loose. Like speaking would be possible.

You raised your eyes to meet Ransom’s, who was already staring at you.

Your lips parted.

Ransom stopped your dancing.

Your heart raced.

“…” You sighed, your head lowering.

You dropped your hands from Ransom’s shoulders, stepping back & out of his arms.

I’m sorry. You signed. Your body shivered, suddenly feeling cold & hot at the same time.

“Don’t.” Ransom stepped forward.

A soft gasp escaped you as he cupped the side of your face with one hand. His fingers tucked themselves under your chin.

And then, as the world spun around you & your focus became blurred, Ransom sealed his mouth over yours.

Yes, it’s you I welcome death with

As the world caves in

i have been looking so forward to this chapter. things are beginning to get confusing for reader.

as always, please share your thoughts w me via dropping a comment, reblogging w reviews, or talking to me in the ask box. i love hearing from you all & talking about it! so please do

thank you for reading

oona<3

Read this post on why doing more than liking a tumblr writers work is essential to our content creation.

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