#about how with the island not only did they lose their home and family and friends but also themselves

[m4g0hun]

lost child

[abbyshands]

for you

🇵🇸 LINKS | before engaging !!! | m. list | join my tag list!

♡ synopsis; making a home out of catalina island for years on end had been wonderful, but for most of it, you had been derived of the last piece of the puzzle: abigail anderson. you were a skilled medic, so when abby had showed up, you had cared for her, and nursed her back to the girl she was, helping her to heal, and to find home the same way you had. now, it’s abby’s chance to return the favor.

♡ pairing; abby anderson x fem!reader

♡ warnings; lot of game references, some of which include infected, the WLF, plot of the first and second game, loss, violence, etc, general angst (ish) in the beginning, but fluffy at the end, i promise, reader loses her dad in the backstory, and there’s a heavily established backstory for the reader, abby uses nicknames (my love, babe, gorgeous), reader calls abby baby, just general angst n’ fluff tbh!

♡ a/n; sooo this idea has been sitting in my notes app for the longest time, and to be honest, i’m not sure how i feel about the finished product! i don’t think it’s my best work? i don’t know. i like the idea but i’m unsure about the way i executed it. maybe i’ll revisit it at some point, but this is what i’ve got for now ♡

♡ wc; 4.5k

divider creds !

YOUR LIPS, MY LIPS. APOCALYPSE.

If someone had told you four years prior that this is where you would be today, you would’ve checked them for a bite mark.

Because they would have been losing their mind.

2034, and all the years beforehand, were years unforgettable. The person you were couldn’t imagine a life that wasn’t the one you had. Infected roamed, and danger lurked. But love prevailed.

And you were lucky to be a part of it.

You were born in Boston, Massachusetts in the 2010’s at an unlucky hour. To an unlucky life. You had lost your mom before you could say your own name, and the only biological family you had ever gotten to know in your life was your dad, who was the reason you were where you were today in the first place.

When you were young, your dad joined a group once asked to by the leader of it, a woman named Marlene. Since then, and for as long as you could remember, this group has been your place to call home.

They called themselves the Fireflies for the very bug they took the name from: Their goal was to spread luminescence in a world full of darkness. Your dad, who was an incredibly skilled medic, was roped into it when you were younger, for that very reason. And because of the group’s dire need for medics at the time, their leader, Marlene, who was an old friend of your dad’s, asked him to join, all but begged him to, really.

Your dad wasn’t one to deny anyone in need. It was in his nature, and it was why he was such a great medic. So, of course, he agreed.

But only if there would be a place for you, too.

Your dad raised you up as a member of the Fireflies, and then later as a medic, and it was because of him that you were who you were: A resilient individual, a survivor, and yet, a person who embodied compassion, just as he did.

The years went by hazily, the older you got, anyway. You became just as immersed into your work as your dad did, bettering your medical knowledge on a daily basis, be it by old books, rusted cassettes, or your dad himself. But all the while, you managed to balance work, love, and family, and, in a world like this one, that was a lot more than most people could say.

For obvious reasons, you couldn’t remember the 2010’s. Then came the 2020’s, which sped by your eyes. But the 2030’s as a general consensus were years ingrained into your brain. Full of friendship, family, and love? At times. But they also encompassed chaos, despair, and pressure, and changed your life forever.

And forever was a long time.

In the year 2033, all that you believed was true about the world as you knew it, crumbled to the ground. In a land following an apocalypse, it wasn’t uncommon to feel as if there was no way out, as if the life you lived had hit a place of no return.

Now, if only there was a way to fix it. A cure, right?

It was late one evening while you were working on somebody in the Fireflies’ medical center, that Marlene came into the room, expression serious, and voice showing for it. Once you had the person you had been caring for under control, you followed Marlene out of the center, and into a room of a pair of people, one familiar, and one not.

Your dad, and a man who would later become a crucial figure in this tale: Surgical expert, Doctor Jerry Anderson.

You didn’t understand what Marlene, your dad, and Mr. Anderson, as you used to call him, were getting at when you were first pulled into that room. All that they were explaining to you was blurring inside of your head.

Because it was unlike anything you had heard before.

Your ears were told a tale that you had heard on numerous occasions. A girl who was only a few years younger than you, was bitten. You weren’t sure how. But it didn’t really matter, did it? Everyone who was bitten turned into an animal in a matter of days. It didn’t matter how she had gotten the bite mark. It didn’t even matter where on her body the mark was. All you knew was that in a few days, this girl that was being described to you, would no longer be human. That she would no longer have control over her body, and she would no longer know right from wrong, up from down, man from woman. All she would know, was kill. Kill. Kill.

Unless she was one in a million.

Ellie Williams was hardly a human in your mind when you originally heard, but a God given chance, to fix the world as you knew it. You never believed you would live to see the day where a bite mark was a good thing, and yet, it was here, gazing you in the eyes.

Immunity. She was immune. The auburn haired girl had been bitten three weeks prior to the date you heard about this, and zilch. As Marlene had explained to you, it was like the mark was healing, not worsening. 

And in a desolate world, where danger lurked every corner, where sorrow was normalized, and where loss was ceaseless, you were desperate. The Fireflies were desperate. Hope like this didn’t come on a daily basis, now, did it?

You jumped on the prospect as soon as you became conscious of it. All of you did.

Graciously unaware that it would blow up in your face.

In the earlier days of 2034, Ellie was smuggled to a Firefly base in Salt Lake City, a medical center, where your dad, Mr. Anderson, and several Fireflies were residing. As head medic by this point, you decided to remain in Boston caring for the members of your group back home, especially in the absence of your dad and Mr. Anderson.

It’s your life’s biggest regret.

Marlene had asked that you come to the Salt Lake City medical center as soon as you could, and to employ someone else to take over for a bit. Mr. Anderson was a good doctor, but he had decided that to perform proper surgery on Ellie, he would need a few more hands. You were honored that it was you he had chosen. To you, it was on the same level as getting an award. And so, alongside Marlene, and a few more members of the group, you made your way to Salt Lake City, your hopes in your hands, and dreams in your heart.

There was a point during the journey, however, where you ran into some trouble. Infected. And naturally, you were not just a medic: You knew how to survive in a world like this, and you knew how to hold your ground.

Splitting up wasn’t usually recommended when it came to any scenario, and for good reasons. However, it was your only choice. You and everyone beside you aside from Marlene, split up to make sure that she was the first one to make it to the medical center. You remember the last thing you said to her like a movie on loop in your head. See you soon.

And it plagues your brain like the virus that grips your world.

See you soon. You wish you had never said it. You wish you had never split up.

You wish it hadn’t happened.

You did see Marlene. But she was no longer alive when it happened. Fear grasped your bones as your body paralyzed, eyes glued to Marlene’s bloody corpse on the second floor of the medical center’s parking garage.

Tears filled your eyes, slipping down your cheeks. And then, you remembered.

Dad.

You took off running, brain not even processing that you could be putting yourself in danger by doing so. Whoever had done this to Marlene couldn’t be faraway from the building for all you knew. Hell, they could even be in it. But you didn’t care.

You booked it to the highest floor, where your dad and Mr. Anderson were supposed to be, heart racing, begging and bargaining to the universe, or whatever God there was, or somebody, to ensure that they were okay. That they were just fine.

There are some days where you wish you hadn’t opened that door.

The pair of them, alongside a third medic in the room, were found by you in a shape similar to Marlene. Naturally, you ran to dad first, small, shaky hands reaching out to flip over his face down body.

But you were too late.

Your mind goes blurry whenever it goes back to recall the memory. You don’t remember much: Tears, nausea, shaking, panic. You remember screaming, loudly, at that.

And you remember passing out, before being pulled out of the room.

The second that Jerry Anderson was announced dead, all hell broke loose, and you knew, you knew, it was over. The chance that had been driving you and your family of Fireflies for the last year, was gone, and it wasn’t coming back. Unless a brand new surgeon was going to generously drop from the sky, you were hopeless. 

And it wasn’t even just that.

Because the universe had taken from you the one person you held closest to your heart. To your soul.

Dad.

You had a chance. You all did. 

And, then, it was robbed away from you.

You and your dying group made your way back to Boston knowing just that: That you were collapsing. The days passed by in blurs, each one gloomier than the last. You just weren’t sure what to do anymore. All hope for a cure was gone. All hope for yourself was gone.

In 2036, the Fireflies were disbanded by what little members of it were around to do so, and that was it. It was over. 

Your home was paradise, and paradise was gone.

You didn’t know what to do. Most of the family you had found here in the Fireflies was leaving, searching for a life away from the one you all had known for years. You didn’t know if you wanted to do the same. Part of you wanted to follow suit and leave Boston. Renew who you were. Adapt, and move on. But Boston had always been home, and by leaving it, you were leaving a part of you behind.

But you didn’t have a choice.

It was an early morning in 2036 when you began to pack your bags, readying to go. Where? It didn’t matter. All you knew was that home or not, Boston carried way too many painful memories, way more than you could bear. Marlene was dead. Mr. Anderson was dead. Dad was gone.

You didn’t see what else Boston had to give, that it hadn’t already taken away.

But just, just, when you were about to say your goodbyes, the universe, who had screwed you over in the past, clearly had different plans.

A few members had heard word, from previous members who had left the Fireflies before you, that on the west coast of the country, there was a chance: A chance to find home again, in a place named Catalina Island, a gorgeous land in California.

Risks had failed you before, and so had second chances. But, for once, you wanted to give in. You had to.

So you did.

That’s not to say that the second you got to Catalina Island, finding home once again in your fellow Fireflies, who were just as shattered as you were, that your tale was over. God, it was really, really far from it.

Because there was one more piece to the puzzle.

Abigail Anderson.

Anderson. The last name rang a bell once it escaped her lips. A blonde woman, body bruised, bloodied, and covered from the arms down in oozing gashes. Her hair was short and poorly cut, and from the way her bones were pushing into her skin, you could tell that she was severely malnourished.

Alongside her was a boy, obviously younger than her. Tousled black hair, bruises wherever you looked, and fully unconscious. In your time at Catalina Island, and as a Firefly in Boston, for that matter, you had never seen any pair of people in worse shape.

Not unless they were dead.

You remained head medic once you arrived in Catalina Island, naturally, and you had been managing that way for the last four years. So, when this woman showed up, this young boy by her side, like this, it was you who took control. It was you who nursed them, and it was you who made their scars, in a physical and mental sense, not disappear, but easier to handle. To bear.

By looking at them, by looking at her, it was like a mirror. You saw you.

Which is why you saw her.

Now, if someone had told you four years prior that this is where you would be today, losing your dad, losing Marlene, and losing Mr. Anderson, but falling for his child, you would’ve looked for a bite mark. But now, come the year 2040, where you had made a new life, one that Abigail Anderson was a prevalent part of, happiness no longer seemed impossible.

Because it wasn’t far away anymore, slipping from your fingers, the way it had on numerous occasions. 

It was in your hands.

And you were in Abby’s.

Your eyes were being covered by Abby’s large hands as she led you to a place unknown. You had to assume it was one of the several beaches on the island, sand under your feet, sounds of waves in your ears. A smile had been plastered across your face for what seemed like hours, as Abby dragged you along.

“Come on, Abby. Are you going to tell me what this is about or what?” you asked her for the second time in the last minute. You could hear her low chuckle from behind you, and the way it always happens, comfort surges into your veins.

You had learned from Abby, once you bonded over the mutual loss of your dad and hers at the same man, that once Mr. Anderson had been killed, her and her friends, a few former members of the Fireflies, joined a group named the WLF. You had hence learned that during her time there, she was commonly known as a rugged, scary person, who a lot of people in the WLF didn’t dare insult, nor disobey.

And you couldn’t lie: It was hard to believe that for a second.

You had learned from Abby, also, that her resolve began to slip when she met the young boy who she had made it to Catalina Island alongside, who you had also taken care of: Lev. To put it simply, Lev was a member of a different group, that the WLF was never supposed to come across.

Not unless it was in war.

But he changed her. He did. Some days, you could see how guarded Abby was, how she couldn’t help going back to all she used to know, which was being all but barbaric when she was in Seattle. Closed off, wary. But most days, like today? You knew in your heart, that deep down in hers, Abby Anderson was good. Not innocent, but good.

And that was enough for you.

“Just come on!” Abby chuckled as she walked, not letting up her hold on your eyes for a second as she led you along.

You smiled, shaking your head in mock disapproval. “I have work to do back at the center, and we’re not supposed to be roaming around like this. You know that, right?”

“Babe,” Abby responded in an almost firm tone of voice as her feet quit moving, forcing you to root your body to the spot. It was silent, before she pressed a series of sweet, sloppy kisses to your neck and cheeks, managing to keep her hand over your eyes all the while. She had you crumbling just like that, making you a giggling mess as her lips met your skin.

Her kisses subsided once a million of them seeped into you, and it wasn’t the island heat that had your face warm when Abby was done. “Can you just trust me, please?” she laughed, and you didn’t need your vision to know she was giving you that puppy dog look that had you falling to your knees every time. The one that you couldn’t resist if you gave it your all.

You were too easy. “Yes.”

It wasn’t long before you and Abby reached where she wanted to bring you, and once you did, she paused. She was perched behind you now, large hands over your face, the solacing sound of her sighs coming into your ears. “Okay. Are you ready, my love?”

There wouldn't ever be a day where Abby calling you that wouldn’t make your heart pound in your chest.

“More than,” you easily respond.

As soon as you said it, Abby returned your vision to you, and your eyes can’t help but widen at what you see before you.

Because you never pegged “rugged” Abby Anderson as one for picnics.

“Oh, my God, Abby,” you said more to yourself than the blonde as you slowly approached the scene. Laid out on the sand of the beach was a picnic blanket, a folded blanket, a few pillows, a basket, a few books, and playing cards.

Accompanied by a perfect view of the beach.

“Do you not like it?” Abby asked, and there’s an air of sadness to the way she says it. You turn to look at her on cue, your face one of complete, utter disbelief.

Like it?

“Like it? Baby, I love this. More than know,” you respond, meaning every word. It’s been a long time since someone has wanted to care for you. A long, long time, since you had been the receiver, not the giver.

“Abs, it’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

You can see Abby blushing as you approach her and take her face into your hands, her freckled skin burning in heat. She leans into your touch, pressing her forehead onto yours, and holding your hands in her own.

“I just,” Abby sighed, opening her eyes once more to meet yours, solemn expression across her cheeks. “I just don’t feel like I cherish you enough, babe, show it, that is. Because believe me, I do cherish you. S’just, it’s been hard for me to show you how much. All that you did for me and Lev when we got to the island. Taking care of us. Helping us find a home here. I’ll spend the rest of my life saying thank you for it.”

You can feel your soul healing the more Abby speaks.

“I know this isn’t nearly enough to make up for what you did for us, and I wish it was. But I just figured, maybe. . .it could suffice for now.”

“Abby, baby,” you let a small laugh escape your lips as you say it. “You don’t have to make it up to me. At all. I did what I did, because I saw someone in you. I remember asking for your name, and you responded by asking me where Lev was. You didn’t even care what shape you were in. All you wanted to know was if he was okay. You reminded me of me.”

“You reminded me of dad.”

You couldn’t help but sigh, letting silence seep into the air around you as your brain battled to process what you had just said. You didn’t speak on your dad as much as you likely should: Abby knew that, and so did you. Talking about him made your chest compress, and your throat would fail you, making it feel as if you were choking. As if you were helpless. As if you were there all over again. But Abby knew as well as you did, that when your dad came into discussion, it was for a certain reason. 

And for that reason, Abby didn’t speak: She hung fire. For you. For you.

“We live in a world where people combat their own morals just to survive. There’s no good guys. No principles, no rules, no laws. Anyone you come across is just as bad as you, and if not, they’re worse. But when I saw you? I knew. I knew that wasn’t you. Not anymore.”

You know you’re rambling by now, saying whatever comes to mind as soon as it does, but you can’t find it in you to care as you go on. “You want to believe I don’t know how much you care for me. But you don’t need to show it, Abby. I know you do. Right here.”

You take one of Abby’s large hands into yours, and as cliché as it is, not that you care at all, you place it over your heart.

“You feel that, don’t you? That’s all for you, baby. And it’s there that I feel how much you care about me. It’s there that I know.”

The same silence that was here before comes back. But this time, it’s not sad, or dark, or eerie. It’s solacing. It’s warm. It’s home.

And Abby doesn’t need words in order to respond.

It’s her turn to take your face into her hands as she pulls you in close. Her lips meet yours like they have so many times before, her familiar scent hitting your nose as you settle your hands onto her hips. The kiss is slow, and sweet, but passionate, and a burning desire surges inside you to never let her go, to always hold her close. To always call her yours.

You pull back from the kiss once you tire from it, gasping, Abby’s body mimicking yours as she does the same. You gaze into her eyes, the pretty blue ones that always make your heart swell, smiling up at her as you press one last kiss to her lips for good measure. “I adore you, Abby Anderson. You know that, right?” you grin.

It’s the first time you ever hear her giggle. “Me more than you, gorgeous.”

You spend hours there alongside Abby, and it’s the best time of your life. You spend time indulging in a few snacks the blonde packed for you, playing cards, and running around and playing in the sand, smiling all the way. You even get to hear Abby read to you, one of the most endearing things in the world, accompanied by the calming sound of the ocean before you. And when it came time for sunset, you sat down beside Abby, gazing on as amber, ochre, and rose faded into night.

It was perfect.

When it was nearly time for the evening to come to an end, you used the second blanket Abby had packed for your shared night to cuddle up beside her, heads rested on the pillows she had carried along as well. The side of your face was pressed into her chest as you gazed into the sky above you, Abby’s hand rubbing your back in slow circles to console you. Small suns coat the evening sky like sweet, powdered sugar, accompanied by a full moon that looks incredible over the horizon. All you could hear was the sound of the ocean, alongside Abby sighing gingerly every once in a while, or her pressing kisses to your forehead.

Not that you needed much more than that.

Suddenly, the sound of Abby chuckling in your ears snaps you out of your head, and you turn your face upwards curiously. Abby’s smile makes you smile, and it’s no surprise you began to wonder what the blonde woman found so funny all of a sudden.

“Remember how I told you Lev and I had to cross those bridges that were really high up?” Abby asked, and you had to raise an eyebrow, wondering where this was going. “Mhm,” you mumble, which is when Abby goes on.

“Well, before that, we had to get there by foot once we got out of the aquarium I told you about, the one I used to go to all of the time. That part of Seattle is overrun in rushing rapids, so a lot of the buildings around there were a lot more demolished than they usually would be anywhere else,” she explained.

“And, well. . .”

“We walked into this building, and there was a painting of these dogs playing cards. And I asked Lev if he knew our dogs could really play cards like that. Then he asked me if anyone found me funny,” Abby laughed. “It cracks me up whenever I remember it.”

She wasn’t the only one laughing. “Sounds like Lev. And like you,” you smile, and the tale makes you recall a humorous memory of your own. “Once, I was working late at the medical center back in Boston. I was doing research on this girl who had been feeling sick, but I wasn’t sure by what. Mind you, it’s late, and silent, if you don’t count me flipping the pages in my books.”

You giggle just remembering it. “It’s the weirdest thing ever, but my dad was really good at making Clicker noises. Like, really good. Sounded so real it made your heart drop. I was reading when I heard it, and I remember wondering how the hell infected had gotten inside. ‘Course I grab what was closest to me, a scalpel, and I swivel around.”

“And it’s dad.”

That one got Abby to burst out chuckling. “Oh, my God. Of all the things you could get, gorgeous. A scalpel?”

You rolled your eyes in response, playfully so. “What can I say? I’m just a medic. I didn’t carry a gun.”

Once Abby’s done laughing, which seems to take forever, she smiles down at you, pressing one more kiss to your forehead as if to make up for poking fun at you. You cuddle closer into her, letting your body relax in her embrace as a sigh escapes your lips.

You fall back into silence soon enough, eyes glued to the sky as Abby rubs her hand over your back, holding you like you would fade away if she let you go. You run your fingers through her short hair as you press kisses to her neck, jaw, and face, giving her all the love you know she deserves. Your eyes scan her features like she was molded by some higher power, and you can’t help but want to worship her, endlessly.

Not just for what she looks like. But for who she is.

“My baby. It’s like you were made for me, you know?” you whisper in Abby’s ear as your eyes pierce into her blue ones. But Abby’s head shook quickly.

You can predict what she’s going to say in response. “No, gorgeous.”

“It’s you who was made for me.”

—

reblogs are very much welcomed! <3

—

[starkeyisthelastname]

Step!bro rafe part 2? Like maybe everyone’s reactions after he blurted it out, the conversation with Ward and Rose, etc!!

The island was small and word traveled fast at Rafe’s loud statement to JJ Maybank about him being the father of his step-sister’s baby. When Ward got the phone call from the Island Club owner about the incident, he didn’t want to believe his already troubled son had really impregnated his step-daughter. The step-daughter that never gave him any reason to believe she would ever let Rafe do this to her, making Ward wonder if the sex had been consensual at all. The more he thought about his grandchild, the more he realized just how much she looked like his son.

The moment you two walked in the house, baby girl asleep in your arms, you saw Ward stepping out from his office. You knew by the look in his eyes, he knew what happened only 45 minutes before. “Put the baby down and you two come talk to me.” He said sternly. Rafe scoffed, rolling his blue eyes as you quickly headed upstairs to lay your daughter down in her crib.

Walking into the immaculate office, you saw Ward sitting at his desk and your mother sitting on the couch with a heavy glass of wine in hand. Rafe and you took a seat in the empty chairs, waiting for your step-father to start speaking.

“So I got a call from the owner of the Island Club about an incident. Know anything about that?” He asked, question pointing more towards Rafe.

You cowered your heard down, waiting for your step-brother to reply. Rafe wasn’t going to let this go easy and you could feel the fight brewing.

“Don’t know what you are talking about.” Rafe said with a shrug to his shoulders, acting as if nothing happened.

You happened to glance over at your mother, who gave you a look of disappointment, even more so than she did when she found out you were pregnant.

“No idea? Okay how about, you being the father to that baby up there. That ring a bell?” Ward asked, standing up, anger seething through him. He didn’t want to aim it towards you, not knowing if his son had solely did this from being fucked in the head, at least that’s how Ward saw him.

“Okay and so what if it’s true? She’s my step-sister.” Rafe said, his voice rising as his father always brought out the worst in him no matter how hard he tried.

“Rafe..” Rose said, eyes in shock.

You felt the tears falling, knowing that the secret the two of you had been keeping was over. There wasn’t any hiding it anymore. The one person you found comfort in no matter how messed up this situation was, was Rafe. He may have been an asshole, his head may no always been on straight, but he would quite literally kill for you and more importantly that baby girl.

“Your step-sister that you’ve known since you were 10! Did you do something without her knowing? Get her pregnant on purpose? Because you like to fuck everything up in this family!” Ward yelled. He looked at you and back to Rafe, taking breath to calm himself down. “As far as I’m concerned. I can no longer have the two of you in my home. As much as I love you Y/N, this is something that can’t be undone and is an embarrassment to the Cameron name.”

It was as if, you didn’t know who your mother was anymore. Your heart breaking at the fact of losing the family you had been with since you were only nine years old. Looking at Rafe, he silently nodded to you, giving you reassurance that you had him and the two of you would raise your baby girl away from the island that was toxic.

[dreamwritersworld]

The gun (sully family x reader)

two siblings interviewed and born as twins was the beginning of Neteyam and Y/n’s biggest downfall…never given a chance to both be successful.

Jake Sully was always a soldier first and it would inevitably be the first wound he served to his kids. Neteyam and Y/n never had moment where they both could succeed at the same time. They fought amongst each other each second they spent in training.

Oh yes, oh yes,

Neteyam had the strength and ability to lose himself in everything he was asked..

Y/n had the poise and put a impactful meaning into every task she was given..

Oh, yes, they both,

They were both given harsh training that progressively got worse as they aged.

In the eyes of Neteyam, Y/n was Jake’s perfect little angel. “The black swan” as he called her, none of them understood it but Jake definitely did. Y/n was able to be fierce on field and smile kindly even if you had just lost against her, graceful.

Neteyam refused to acknowledge the level of difficulty Y/n went against. Y/n viewed Neteyam as “the perfect soldier”, he was an exact replica of Jake’s techniques and professionalism. Jake saw Neteyam as though he was the most powerful, beautiful gold amongst a treasured island.

Oh yes, they both..

They both couldn’t see it. They couldn’t see that they were striving for perfection in their father’s eyes. They had yet to pull the trigger on each other.

Oh, yes, they both reached for..

The approval of their father weighed heavily on their heart. Such a horrible baggage they never knew how to deal with…

Jake refused to acknowledge the pain and ache they’d endure after training. The pair walking home in tiredness that is waiting to be fulfilled as soon as they pass out in their beds.

It was a cruel joke considering what they had to endure.

The gun, the gun..

They walked in a quick panicked silence to go to their grandmother to be healed from all the marks and tension in their body.

The gun, the gun

Neteyam usually had grand scraps and cut on his finger from archery while Y/n had cuts all over her feet from the tricks and stunts she’d pull to navigate quietly through the woods like Jake wanted her to.

Oh yes,

The next morning would be the grand competition between all young soldiers who have become elites in their division that only happened every two years. In all reality the top soldier would always come down to Neteyam or Y/n. It’s exactly what had the people come down to the most challenging parts of the forest. Everyone knew they’d win it just always down to who. The competition had everyone at the end of the branches they watched from, nerves of adrenaline can be felt seeping through the athletes and spreading amongst the crowd.

They both reached for the gun. For the gun.

The pair always had new tricks to show off and skills that have been newly mastered. It was truly beautiful. Unfortunately for Y/n, Neteyam had won the last two event, everyone had their eyes on her as the date of today came closer. However the words of Jake’s praise couldn’t have been an even bigger flame to the fire as he spoke to fellow navi’s about the two…

Oh yes, oh yes..

“Neteyam is fantastic and always finishes strong! This will all come down to who will be the best and I can assure you Neteyam has been training immensely.”

Oh yes, they both..

“And Y/n?”

Oh yes, they both..

“She’s fabulous but dangerous. She has a power to become an animal. I always call her my black swan, perfect and elegant.”

Oh yes they both reached for ..

Jake thrived off the fear from his eldest children, they were so nervous he could see their confidence fighting to stay grand.

The gun, the gun..

Just a few moments before the race started he had his own moments with his children…

Neytiri had placed a flower crown made by Tuk on Y/n’s hair in which she promised to wear. She seemed to be holding in just fine until Jake approached her…

The gun, the gun..

“Im not too sure you’ll beat Neteyam this year Y/n. You’re nervous I can see it all over your face.”

The gun, the gun..

“I can beat him..” she spoke like a timid little girl, afraid of her father’s truth.

The gun, the gun..

“Really? In the past four years, I see you obsessed getting each and every move perfectly right but I never see you lose yourself. All that discipline for what?”

The gun, the gun..

“..I just want to be perfect…”

“You what?”

“I want to be perfect.”

The gun, the gun..

“The only person standing in your way is you. It’s time to let her go, be the black swan I know you can be..lose yourself.”

The gun, the gun

He had whispered his statement in hushed words, only for Y/n’s ears to hear. Her heart stopped and began beating at 100 once again, she nervously smiled.

The gun, the gun..

Then it was time for Neteyam..

Both reached for the gun..

“Y/n is a perfectionist you know that Neteyam. You must move quicker and faster than she does. She floats like a feather through the branches and animals but you stay a few steps ahead because you’ll get her nervous more than you can imagine. She’ll falter and that’s how you’ll stay the best in the clan! Cmon be the best soldier”

The gun, the gun..

It was sickening. Jake knew how to make a grand show between the two. It even caused a scene before the race even started. Neteyam wanted to take it a step further..he knew exactly how his sister worked. She was too sweet and never allowed herself to get aggressive with anyone…or so he thought

“You’ll fumble halfway in and get nervous Y/n you know you will.”

“Stop. Please stop.”

“How about I actually live up to your name and act like the ‘black swan’ for you.”

The gun, the gun..

The nerves had become too much to handle. Y/n got upset at the idea of him winning again and gaining the appraisal of their father before her. She hated how he jokes about her nickname that only he calls her.

“It’s my turn! I’ll win and you’ll be the one who’ll never leave the corps!”

The gun, the gun..

Neteyam’s eyes grew wide as Y/n pushed him away from her.

“All Navi’s competing must get in place now!”

Some Navi’s had so much confidence from the two years they prepped for the race rather it be third or beating the two siblings who held the reign of being the best. Unbeknownst to the crowd the two best had false confidence when it came to going against each other.

The gun, the gun..

Right before the scratch of an ikran was heard Neteyam and Y/n looked to each other with fear and determination. There they ran and leaped through the sky as though the branches they jumped off were clouds. The crowds eyes were on the pair of siblings who were constantly challenging each other with tricks amongst the track. It all would come down to who moved the quickest with the most difficulty. The yelling was tuned out for the siblings. The twins were speaking to each other in a language none of the people could understand, it was…psychologically beautiful.

The gun, the gun..

Fire burnt in their lungs with each breath they took for another reach of oxygen..

Their calves felt like rocks fallen from a mountain as they grew tired and stretched..

Towards the very end…Y/n won.

The gun, the gun..

She hadn’t even realized she was bleeding heavily from her hip…it was pure adrenaline that was keeping her running and graceful.

The gun, the gun..

The crowd picked her up and cheered her on until Jake had urged them to put her down…he had noticed the gash from the beginning. He wasn’t running on adrenaline like everyone else was. This type of competition was something he was used to seeing..since he always put the two against each other.

“Put her down! What did you do Y/n? You’re hurt!”

“Huh..”

There she touched her blood, gasping in an almost comical way..

“I felt it dad..”

“What?”

The gun, the gun..

“I was perfect…”

She had fainted from the exhaustion from all the training the night before. Truth was the only reason why Y/n wasn’t able to stay calm against Neteyam’s remarks was because she was absolutely irritable from the few hours of sleep and aching body she was pushing through.

“Y/n…wake up child.”

The flutter of her eyelashes reviled Moat, thanking eywa for the couple hours of sleep she gave Y/n’s body to return to normal.

“Grandmother thank you-“

“You need to take care of yourself more-“

“Y/n! Oh thank Eywa!”

Jake rushed through the tent hugging his daughter tighter than ever..finally it was her turn. He’d praise her and love on her once again.

“I won dad..”

“I know..you were great! My beautiful black swan!”

Both reached for the gun

Y/n won while for the first time in two years Neteyam watched.

!💕!

Definitely not sure if there ar even still avatar fans alive anymore but this story will be ready waiting for you when you’ve come back!! I loved the way this edit sound went viral and the way the beat has you on the edge of the seat!!!

[throwaway-yandere]

𝖘𝖈𝖆𝖗𝖇𝖔𝖗𝖔𝖚𝖌𝖍 𝖋𝖆𝖎𝖗/𝖈𝖆𝖓𝖙𝖎𝖈𝖑𝖊 [Yandere Prince!Scaramouche/Reader]

A/n: After reading so many tyrant otome isekai manhwas, I thought I should give writing one a try... This story ended up being a bit more “real”(?) than OI. And I forgot the isekai part LOL. Love this fic a lot because the (L/n) family says the most banger lines. They spitting facts. Anyways, welcome to another throwaway-thursday, enjoy this one, @vennnnn-diagram because... lol.

Unreliable Synopsis: Exiled in Watatsumi island after publishing two anti-colonial novels outside their homeland, the famous reformist writer and physician (L/n) (Y/n) faces several familial deaths— and it all leads back to one man...

Content Warnings/Tags: Yandere themes, mentions of miscarriage (note: this is because this is very loosely based on a real life hero's biography), "lovers" to enemies, angst, character deaths, church corruption, politics, etc. Prioritize your mental health. The fic is meant to be a bit dark. You can listen to this song for the vibes 💖

"Are you going to Watatsumi Fair, Niwa?"

"Well, of course! The Lector works hard to make sure it's grander each year."

"Our Lector… I hope (L/n) is doing alright. It must be incredibly heartbreaking to lose a newborn son under three hours…"

"Indeed…"

It’s the 19th century and the streets chatter on about the upcoming festival. Seri, mitsuba, yomogi, and shiso— murmurs of food and spices exchanged at the Watatsumi Fair circulated. However, these four wonderful things wouldn't be there without a certain exile transforming the island into a thriving island: Lector (Y/n) (L/n).

Prince Kunikuzushi's most esteemed “rival”.

You were an exemplary philosopher and ophthalmologist who published two novels abroad that reflected Inazuma's social issues and military abuses. Of course, you were born in a noble clan. Only the wealthy can study outside Ritou and attain higher education beyond the basic arithmetic and religion Inazuman Colonizers gatekept your people with. You were slaves.

But these colonizers feared educated colonies would demand rights; hence, after publishing those eye-opening novels, you became Public Enemy #1. Charges against you were not absolved, but Inazumans could not execute you upon arrival. You were not a revolutionary, but a pacifist reformist. You made the government and clergy's behavior known worldwide, hence the military banished you to Watatsumi— another Inazuman colony and barren land. 

Assured that you've done nothing wrong, you stayed in Watatsumi. With nothing but your firm beliefs, your days of exile were your most productive. Using your skills as a physician and some wits on land surveying, you've improved Watatsumi’s quality of life in under 6 months. 

You're far from home with little spare change, yet you provided medicina gratis. With you, you’ve helped open the people’s eyes. 

You lived under the scrutinizing eyes of the Queen, yet you erected streetlights in each dark street. With you, you’ve helped the people see in this dark age. 

And most importantly, you have established Watatsumi's first school.

With you, the people understood the truth of their situation: they had been living under a tyrant’s rule for the past few decades.

And all you asked in return was for the people to help you in your ventures to improve the island's agriculture and spices.

How can the people of Watatsumi not love you for this martyrdom?

“(L/n) is organizing a secret rebellion association planning to overthrow the government”. That was the Queen’s grounds for exile, including false testimonial and documentary evidence. It was obvious that your books were in strong opposition to the current Inazuman Government.

Hence, Archbishop Sangonomiya Umiko was incredibly fond of you.

"I still believe I am innocent of the crime of rebellion, illegal association, and sedition. All I did was publish two novels!" You hummed. "When the Shogun calls for my execution— and she will— do immediately ask for my body. They will likely throw it wherever they please. Worse, Kunikuzushi might use me as his doormat." 

The Archbishop laughed. "I can see that. His Highness does fit that character."

You and Umiko sat far from the festivities. Sangonomiya Umiko was neither friend nor foe. She is the current leader of Watatsumi Island, but she is restricted by the commands of the Queen and her children. Umiko cannot even preach about her true faith, hiding her birthright as the Divine Priestess and instead donning the title foreign title of Archbishop. Even with friendly demeanors, there’s an unmistakable grim air on both your faces.

No passerby would mistake this meeting as a romantic date. You have a wonderful spouse waiting home, appearing as crest-fallen as you do now. 

… But "Spouse" is a rather loose term. You and your partner were forbidden to have a wedding. Prince Kunikuzushi would not allow an exile to marry and no priest would disobey him. Hence, you and your lover decided to merely promise to the God you believe in that you'll remain loyal to one another. That faith and loyalty brought about a prematurely birthed child— who only had three hours to live until his breath was cruelly stripped away…

And historians would attribute your son’s death as a cause for your morbid obsession with your own future execution.

"Kunikuzushi is a personification of what's wrong with the Inazuman Empire," you said casually. "He will be the core of what causes the revolution, not I."

Umiko did not miss the way you addressed the Prince. You spoke without honorifics, an aspect in both Watatsumi and Inazuma's language that is evident in everyday conversations. Most revolutionists emphasize his high station with hatred. You emit those titles and call him by name.

As though it was a habit.

As though you were once friends and more.

"Lector (Y/n), do watch your tongue," she shook her head. "The walls have ears."

"And what if the walls have eyes and ears? They shall see and hear my innocence." You sipped your tea before you snapped your fingers with a grin. "Oh, and do me one last favor. When they'll let me face my executioners, armed with polished guns and a shoveled ground:"

"Only the guilty are shot in the back. Let me face the firing squad and spare my head so that I may die facing the heavens."

A glimpse of (h/c) hair ran past in the streets of Inazuma City, carrying a child in his arms. The child was injured but otherwise “fine”— as fine as children could be amidst the rains of ashy woods and turbulent fires. The city capital reeked of gunpowder and a nauseating metallic scent. The (h/c) haired man may not have any blood relations to the person whom they’re protecting, nor does he know her name, but he held onto the 8-year-old dearly. 

Despite the chaos that surrounded him, your older brother cannot help but think of one hopeful thought:

With the recent loss of (Y/n)’s son, maybe they’d be willing to adopt this little girl as my new niece? 

But all that ended abruptly when a loud voice resonated throughout the streets.

“DON’T LET A SINGLE ONE OF THEM ESCAPE. NO SURVIVORS!”

Prince Kunikuzushi stood proud in the middle of it all. With calm finesse, he ordered the generals to order their soldiers to kill without a hint of remorse. His eyes were dull. All he knew was that his mother wished for the death of revolutionaries hiding in the capital. Whether these rumors were falsehoods or not, the Queen did not care. Fear is the family’s greatest weapon, bloodshed is nothing to them.

Death is nothing for a mother's puppet like him.

The Prince truly didn't have any care for this war. He's only following orders under the reward that he'll be able to have you. It was the Queen's promise, and she had always been relentless in any pursuit of honor and glory.

In return for his familial services, Queen Ei might consider his proposal. The royal family dreaded the death of their former matriarch, Makoto, and the prince showed no attraction to any of his valid consorts. Should he show loyalty to the end, the Queen will allow him to marry anyone to his liking.

That's why he's putting up with this.

He looked at the horizon, seeing nothing but fire instead of the deep ocean.

Why did Watatsumi have to be so far away?

Why did you have to be a sea away?

As fate would have it, a young soldier spotted the two. A hunt between two red-tagged innocent civilians and a greenhorn murderer commenced. Limping slightly, your brother attempted to push down restaurant chairs and other outside furniture in hopes he’d lose track of them.

The soldier did not know that the person he was tracking was your older brother.

Had he known, he would’ve left him alone.

And as much as fortune favors the bold, it was not on your sibling’s side.

The soldier fired his first reckless shot and hit its target.

Your brother stumbled, holding his stomach. He gasped, coughing as he subconsciously let the child go. But he did not fear for his life, but hers. He knew that the child was asleep on a park bench when the horns rang for danger. She was homeless with nothing but bedclothes and a short makeshift blanket, and now she’ll be forced to witness a traumatizing scene.

Poor child… You must be frightened…

I hope…

Your brother remains adamant that the child must live, even as the barrel of the enemy's rifle is pointed at his chest. A look of stern determination, mixed with fear, can be seen in his eyes as he stands his ground despite the threat of death.

That (Y/n) will raise you right…

“S-Scaramouche’s crown's resplendent band shows no natural light. The ocean's glimmer elucidates more hope than your vile scarlet battalions could ever hope for!!!” Your older brother yelled, weakly hiding the child behind him.

The soldier cocked the barrel against his forehead.

“There is no emprise to plundering, to murder and genocide—” he continued, coughing blood at the corner of his lips. “You will all be remembered in history as those who had foolishly paraded without genius. Death has a more ambrosial scent than a life of servitude under your heels.”

SHOT!!!

…

…

“M-Mister?... M-Mister?! MISTER!!!”

The child screamed as your brother fell to the ground. With the remaining humanity the young soldier clung to, he turned a blind eye towards the little one crying silvery tears. Truth be told, the new soldier himself had forgotten what it was he was fighting for. What was the point in this death, this pain, if not to harm both sides? But a good soldier does not question his orders and he leaves the child without a word.

She did not know his name. She did not know his status as a (L/n). She did not know he was the older brother of the famous physician (Y/n) (L/n). She did not know he was a martyr way before his true death.

But she still held his corpse with abandon. His body heat was slowly growing cold. Though her stature was short and small, her tears were heavier than her heart could manage.

(L/n)s may meet horrid ends, but Fate grants you all one last wish.

You all have the privilege of dying whilst facing the heavens, and that is the final honor your brother can carry with him in his passing. 

“My dear, a letter arrived,” your spouse spoke. “It came from your mother…”

It was deep into the night and you had just fixed yourself up for bed, but you’re not one to turn down letters. Perhaps your old friend from Opera Epiclese had sent you a reply? Igniting the nearby lamp, you lovingly kissed their hand before taking the letter.

“Thank you, love,” you cooed. “I’ll surely be writing a letter back, so why don’t you rest before me? I shall accompany you later.”

Leaving them with a blush, you shut the door behind you. Despite the struggles in your relationship, your love for your gorgeous spouse will never disappear over the unplanned loss of your first child.

Unlike Kunikuzushi’s…

You entered the living room and closed the door behind you. A wise decision, given the contents that were about to crush the little mental stability you had left.

“My Dearest (Y/n), It is with a heavy heart and trembling hand that I take quill to convey news that no mother should ever have to write down. As I write these words, tears splotch the paper, and each stroke of the pen is a painful reminder of the sorrow that has befallen our clan. My dearest child, it grieves me beyond measure to inform you that your beloved older brother, (B/n), has departed from this world. The weight of this solemn news rests heavily upon my shoulders, and the burden is almost too much to bear. The tragedy unfolded in the heart of the capital, where (B/n), in an act of unparalleled heroics, sacrificed his own life to save that of a young girl during a merciless ambush. His valor shone through, but the cost is another pain you must bear after the death of your own child. Oh, my (Y/n), the pain is unbearable. I wish I could shield you from this heart-wrenching truth, but I believe in your resilience. The thought that you are in exile, far from my comforting embrace, only adds bitterness to my heart. The cruel hand of fate has robbed you of the chance to bid a final farewell to your dear brother, to stand beside his resting place and pay tribute to his funeral. The distance that separates Ritou and Watatsumi feels insurmountable, and I ache at the thought of your solitary grief. I hope your spouse shall accompany you in these troubled times. In these dark hours, know that you are not alone in grief. Though separated, we mourn the loss of a beloved son and brother, the heir of the (L/n) clan. May time and the tender embrace of cherished memories bring some measure of peace to your soul. With all the love a grieving heart can muster, Mother”

As the ink on your mother's heartbreaking letter crumpled with sorrow in your heavy trembling grip, a weighted silence filled the room. The words she penned— each a painful jab to your psyche— threatened to spill tears you've fought so desperately to hold back for weeks since you didn’t want your spouse to worry.

Before you can succumb to weeping on the floor with a contorted expression and writhing body, the door opens, disrupting your peace. 

Prince Kunikuzushi, adorned with his mother’s feather and opulent regalia, strode into your humble abode with an irritating aura of entitlement. His presence, a stark contrast to the mourning atmosphere, successfully transformed your grief into weaponized spite.

"Still holding another Watatsumi Fair, are we?" he sneered, disdain dripping in every word. The callousness in his eyes and “indifference” to your mourning made the air all the more sharper.

“Why are you here, Your Highness?” You spat out. “Had your clow— soldiers failed to entertain you?”

“They are nearly as boring as your spouse in bed.” He snarled. “And I wager that their lives last longer than they do.”

You bit your tongue. Your spouse had made an effort to teach you not to reply to any insult he had towards them, and you had done decently enough to honor their wishes by merely scowling at the royal instead of equipping any nearby blunt weapon.

“Allow me to ask again,” you forced yourself to be cordial. “What are you doing here, Kunikuzushi?”

The prince clicked his tongue.

“Do I not have the authority to visit you?”

“You do,” you said. “But you do not have the right to barge in as you please, much like how Lord Hiroshi shouldn’t have decided to conquer my homeland Ritou and decide to claim it as Inazuman property for your mother’s ever-so-eternal happiness.”

“He was only claiming what is rightfully ours.”

Prince Kunikuzushi looked over at your bedroom door. You took large steps forward, blocking his way. You won’t allow him to disturb your lover’s good night’s rest.

He frowned.

"You should have been mine," he muttered softly. 

You hated this about Kunikuzushi the most. He speaks with audacity that knows no bounds as he criticizes your spouse, but would sound the most pure when addressing his own emotions. “You should’ve said yes. You should’ve ruled these nations with me, and more. But you threw it all away and for what? Fragile patriotism? You are defending an island that will suffer the same fate as your beloved Ritou.” 

In the eye of this tempest, your mother’s burning words fuels a fire that burns brighter than any royal decree. 

"You speak of love and marriages," you seethed, voice cutting through the tension, "but you know nothing of the bonds that truly matter."

…

…

…

As the realization dawns upon him, his arrogance wavered. 

He had not realized early on that news about your brother’s death had reached you already.

"An accident," he stammered, attempting to deflect blame. "If I knew, I would have spared him in that ambush. I’m not an All-Knowing God, so it’s genuinely just an accident."

With a chilling calmness, you locked eyes with him. "That wasn't an accident— our previous affairs were an accident. What you've done was murder." 

Your words hung in the air, leaving no room for denial.

“I love you,” the prince spoke in near-whisper. “You know better than anyone that I would never do anything to hurt you this bad. You know that I am the voice that called for your exile instead of execution. I never would’ve asked for his death.”

His claim was also true. 

You knew you were the only person who he had fallen for his whole life. You knew because when you were studying abroad, you had strange chance encounters with him. You knew because he was mildly stalking you and would’ve for a long time had you not offered a seat in the library. You knew because he had been a difficult person to court, always bottling his own emotions and lashing out in retorts you had dubbed “adorable” at a time. You knew because he had told you himself years ago that…

"You are insufferable. And yet, I find myself inexplicably drawn to your company. It's horridly vexing. Your presence lingers in my thoughts long after you've departed, like an annoying insect. I must confess, despite my best efforts, I find myself rather fond of you too— ridiculously enough."

... But what you didn’t know during your studies in Fontaine was that Kunikuzushi was the son of the Queen you despised and wrote articles against in editorial jobs to earn not only spare cash but the enlightenment of your people back home. What you didn’t know was that the prince had been sent by his mother to monitor your actions.

What you did not know came to haunt you on your way back home. 

So you rid yourself of these memories and cornered him into a wall, a hand just behind his head. The sound of your hand slamming made the intimidating prince flinch, and he trembled at the dullness of your eyes.

“And yet whose orders was it? Whose order was it to ensure there would be no survivors in that location? WHOSE WAS IT, KUNIKUZUSHI?! ANSWER ME!!!”

Your spouse called your name from the other room. “(Y/n), is everything alright?”

With their voice, your anger faded slightly, yet your breathing remains loud and manic. “I’m alright! Do not leave the room, dear!”

“Scaramouche” took that as an opportunity to digress.

“I saved you from death before. Do not forget that.” His face hardened. “In case you've forgotten, I'm no saint. Many people will want to seek me out and settle the grudges they've built against me, and what better way to avoid that than to route those future seeds of rebellion?” 

The prince took your hand off the wall.

“Mother had enough, she sees no reason to hold back against those who rebel and she had filed an order to reopen your case. And if my blood and hers are the same, I guarantee you that she will only provide you with the worst defense attorney possible. You will surely receive the death sentence.”

He placed your hand on his chest, gripping it so desperately tight to the point of it hurting.

“So choose me,” Kunikuzushi mumbled. “Choose me, and save yourself. Do not follow your brother’s path. Choose me. I’m your only option.”

And heavens above, does he take delight in that.

You met his gaze with a resolute determination. 

"I appreciate your offer," you replied, your voice steady, "but I refuse. My brother's legacy, as tarnished as it may be, deserves justice, and so do I."

A flicker of frustration passed across Kunikuzushi's face. 

"You're being naive," he retorted, the desperation in his voice taking a sharper edge. "An arraignment is on its way. The military court will not deliver justice. It will devour you. I’m offering you a fucking lifeline, a chance to escape the inevitable."

“I won't tarnish my brother's memory by succumbing to the same shadows that claimed him."

Kunikuzushi's eyes, once filled with a glimmer of hope, darkened with frustration. "You're condemning yourself—" he argued, "—for an idealistic notion of justice that doesn't exist. You're a fool."

"Perhaps I am a fool," you admitted, "But I am a fool who is sure of their innocence. I am not a revolutionary, I only spoke and wrote of the truth. I will not compromise my integrity for the sake of expedience."

As you spoke, the defeat in Kunikuzushi's eyes began to settle. 

"You're determined," he snarled. "So stubbornly determined to die!"

"Perhaps," you acknowledged, "Choosing you would be an escape, but it would also be a betrayal of everything I stand for. And I…"

You smiled.

“I love my spouse,” you said. “And the child we made that was taken from me all so suddenly. Hence, I do not need your love, Prince Scaramouche.”

Kunikuzushi tensed up.

Your child was baptized by the Inazuman priests. 

And Inazuman priests serve the royal family and their constituents.

History’s eyes will speculate that Prince Kunikuzushi was the reason your child had died, that he had ordered your son's immediate poison upon birth.

And Kunikuzushi knows it to be true.

But you will never know that.

You will never know the full extent of what this man had taken from you.

With those words, you turned away from Kunikuzushi, leaving him and his offer behind. You opened the door and gestured for him to leave. Neither of you knew at the time that this would be the last night you’d spend in the comfort of your own home.

Before you knew it, you were writing your final farewells.

(Y/n) (L/n) was subjected by the military court on ████████ ██, ████ and was sentenced to death at six in the morning.

The people saw no justice for their hero, and your body was buried in Inazuma City. If it were not for all you and your clan had given, there would be no freedom in Watatsumi Island and Ritou. Had your brother not saved the young girl, she would not become the matriarch of the Yuna Clan, who led the first Navy in the revolution.

And had you not died in Inazuma City, there would be no Resistance.

But that was centuries ago. 

Divine Priestess Sangonomiya Kokomi sat on her desk, examining previous preliminary investigations. She racked her brain over the testimonies of the seven members of the military court, the judge advocate, the defense counsel, and the prosecuting attorney. The prince was right when he stated the trial would not be fair for you were forced to employ a Lt. Arataki as your defense. It was a prejudged trial. Despite the obvious assertion of innocence, you were still acquitted of your allegations of treachery.

It never fails to make the current Head Priestess feel sour over a 5 centuries-year-old case.

"In their last moments, (L/n) penned Watatsumi Fair and Canticle, two sonnets kept hidden in an alcohol burner." Kokomi murmured as she read. "Although the prince barred their spouse entry, several other family members and friends came to visit (L/n) with the Orobashi coral statue provided by the townsfolk. The sculpture was created for them during the aforementioned fair."

Are you going to Watatsumi Fair?

"In their Fontainian black suit, hat, shoes, and white vest, (L/n) walked calmly outside their prison cell to the execution site in Inazuma City. They've even checked (L/n)'s pulse and felt no irregularities. (L/n) were tied elbow-to-elbow despite their visible acceptance of fate."

"It was speculated that Prince Kunikuzushi was the last person whom they talked to, looking rather somberly with disdain. He spoke in a foreign language so only (L/n) and he knew of their conversation."

 

Seri, mitsuba, yomogi, shiso.

"But Archbishop Sangonomiya Umiko understood what he had said. Je t'aime, mon grand amour… ma première trahison. Roughly translated as I love you, my grand love… my first betrayal."

"Lector (Y/n) (L/n) was commanded to face the ground when the firing squad pulled the trigger, but they still tried to face their executioners. They fell to the shoveled ground, looking at the gray morning skies. They were buried at seven."

“From then on, the name Kunikuzushi changed its meaning to Country Destroyer— for he had successfully demolished the Inazuman Empire upon sitting on the throne through violent means. When asked about this, the King responded with:”

Remember me to one who lives there.

“I didn't desire the Empire that took away my (Y/n). I didn't crave any of it. As soon as I was coronated, my heart stopped beating. And so, I enticed the neighboring King Morax to crumble the very essence of the Inazuman Empire. What purpose do these soldiers have in life, when all they've done is obediently follow ruthless commands and snuff out the ones who hold my heart?

When it’s said and done, I will be empty— a blank slate, destined to wander the desolate corridors of a nation bygone.

Only to honor these filthy human emotions called “love” that never came to be.”

He once was a true love of mine.

Taglist (pls notify if you wish to be on the taglist &lt;3): @pix-stuff @sagekun @vennnnn-diagram , @dilucragnidvr @tnsophiaonly @lsleepysimpl @kitkareen

[obexes]

CATALYSIS

PT. II

R.C x READER • R.G x READER

Warnings: Smut, Self-Sabatoging Reader, Manipulation, Small Amount Of Dub-Con (Fucking Rafe), Underaged Drinking, fingering

A/N: The next part will be longer, and this might end up being 10 parts bc the plot, oh I'm gonna let it cook. I tried to get this out ASAP, while juggling too much other shit. My mental health is sickly, so enjoy my degenerate fantasies. Feedback is so appreciated and encouraging y'all :)

Word Count: 7.5 K

Sundays were always your favourite thing about your parents being home. The smell of Italian sausage and carbonara had summoned you from your room to the living room, where your family sits spread out around the large room, with their dinner plates.

When you and Nicky were kids, your Mom would lose it if she caught you guys on the eggshell coloured living room carpet with anything darker than water. Ever since Henley and Patton were old enough to eat on their own, your dad has enforced mandatory family time, which was simply eating dinner while watching a movie together on Sundays.

To be fair, despite all the travelling, they tried really hard to be home every Sunday. You took your spot at the coffee table and picked up the only unoccupied plate.

“I’m feeling Marvel tonight.” Nicky commented, twirling his fork around in his pasta. “Or maybe Disney?”

“Turning Red!” “Inside out!” Your younger brothers both called out simultaneously. You bite the inside of your cheek to stifle a chuckle as your mom warily eyes the excited kids, or more accurately, the food balanced on their laps. She’s hopeless, you think freely.

“I’m thinking we should watch Euphoria. Bring some real world problems into this oasis.” you comment, earning a look from your Mom as well. Your older brother's idiot laugh doesn't go unnoticed.

Your Dad raises his wine glass to his lips. “I don't feel like having a stroke at 39. Peter Pan and Wendy it is.” Despite the child-like film, you all cheer as he hits play. Finally you start to dig into the meal your Mom, with the help of little Patton, made.

After you all finish eating, your dad pauses the film. You and Nicky carry the dishes to the dishwasher, load and start it, before making your way back to the living room. Your parents are curled up together and you take the spot on the other side of your dad, while he wraps an arm around you, the boys pile up on the mountain of blankets covering the floor.

As he plays the movie, you find your mind wandering to last night. To what you did in the hot tub at Tanneyhill. To Rafe fucking Cameron. Part of you felt guilty about messing with Roman’ s cousin and lying to your Mom, but the other part of you was burning. Burning to feel his hands on you again, burning to feel that intense pleasure over and over, and burning to know more. And then there was an even smaller part that wanted to know what such an intimate thing would feel like with Roman.

Even though you were still pissed at him for a number of reasons. You never made it back to Rafe’s room last night.

⊱✿⊰

“You're sleeping in my room tonight, gorgeous girl.”

You giggle quietly as he opens the back door and carries you the few steps across the kitchen, to plop you down on the island. “Want some water or something?”

You swing your legs back and forth, feeling the effects of the alcohol you'd been consuming since you got here. “Yes, please.” You turn your head momentarily towards the doorway as you hear light footsteps upstairs. You brush it off, enjoying your inebriated break from everyone else in the world but the man who just made you cum on his lap.

Rafe grabs two waters and comes back to stand between your legs. He moved nervously, you noted. He looked at you, like really looked at you, as he handed you a water bottle. “You okay? How are you feeling after... well- after everything tonight?”

“I'm good, Rafe. I had.. fun.” You reassure him with a small smile, unsure how to phrase it but wanting to reassure him. Which is still more than Roman bothered to do for you.

He gives you his signature panty dropping, schoolboy smirk. His tone is still nervous, however. “So it was okay? I mean, that it was me?” He slides his hands up your thighs coming to rest them on your hips. You could feel a flush of heat creeping up from where he’d just touched your thighs making its way all the way to your cheeks.

“Yes, Rafe.” You manage to say. His touch is intoxicating, his eyes captivating. You find your arms wrapping around his neck, hands burying themselves in his soft, dark blonde hair. “It was better than okay.”

He leans in to plant a chaste kiss to the corner of your lips before leaning back slightly and catching your eye. You tug him towards you and his lips meet yours devotedly. He pulls you closer to the edge, your bodies meeting again, chest to chest. He bites your swollen bottom lip and separates from you only to tilt his head and kiss you even deeper.

His hands move to grip the sides of your ass and you whine against his lips, causing him to grip you harder. Still chasing the feeling he gave you outside, you push your crotch against his as best as you can from your place on the counter.

“Y/N.” He keens,”I'm never gonna get enough of you.” Rafe buries his face in your neck, leaving warm and wet kisses, leaving his hands to grope your sides.

Lost in the lust washing over you, you both hear the telltale pad of multiple pairs of feet, too late.

“Oh shit” A giggle. “Dude!” Disgust.

“What the fuck?” Anger.

Your head whips over to see three shocked teens standing at the entrance of the kitchen with varying reactions. Rafe slowly lifts his head but doesnt look away from you. Your mouth opens and closes, floundering for words. You look between the three and Rafe as you push him away and jump off of the counter.

Nicky and Mia are slowly starting to snicker, but Roman is just staring at you with disbelieving eyes. The other girl is nowhere to be seen.

“Okay, now this. This makes more sense.” Nicky laughs, referring to this morning when your parents caught you and Roman in your bed, asleep.

“Looks like you have a date to midsummers now, Y/N.” Mia comments with a raised brow.

You remain frozen, aside from your bottom lip wobbling and you biting it in a second attempt to keep your tears at bay tonight. How many times can one girl be humiliated in a day? You don't even want to look back at Romans face.

Rafe eyes your wobbly lip and reaches for you, tugging your hand into his. “Hey, wanna go to sleep now?”

“What the fuck is this? What's happening right now?” You look up from your entwined hands, at Romans dubious tone.

“Roman-”

“Come outside, Y/N.” He walks past you both, through the doors you just entered from, ignoring Mia calling his name on the way out.

You inhale a deep shaky breath. Your brother casts Mia a clueless, questioning glance, which she ignores as she's focused on examining you and Rafe. “I should...” You trail off as Rafe squeezes your hand softly, meeting his eyes.

“Its okay. I'll talk to him later, yeah?” He places a quick peck to your head.

“Y/N, what's going on? I feel like I'm missing something.” Your brother comments quizzically.

Rafe moves to usher them out of the kitchen, “Later , man.” You hear him mutter quietly to Nicky, who meets your gaze one more time before turning back to the den area. Mia lingers a second as you squeeze and shake your hands out, nervously.

“He’s never gonna get it together. Not for you, princess. Listen to Rafe, maybe that way you can stop stepping on people's toes and you won't get hurt.” Mia says the words quietly, but her tone of voice makes it clear that it's a threat. She smiles at you and follows in the direction of two older boys, while you do your best to ignore her and choke down all of the unpleasant feelings building up and make your way to the patio doors.

When you open the door, you immediately see Roman sitting on the porch swing with his head back, looking up at the sky with his usual pout. He doesn't move, or say anything so you walk over to him and sit down. Anxiety wracks your body, as you prepare to inevitably have an uncomfortable encounter with the bipolar boy you called your best friend.

You risk a glance at him and are alarmed to see moisture pooling in his eyes, “Roman.” You whisper. “Hey, I-”

“What was that?” He sits up and turns to face you.”Just- what the hell was that?”

Your eyes widen a little at the intensity of his behaviour. He takes one of your hands in his and looks at you expectantly. “Was that just you guys being dumb, or was that -” He stutters for a second and then takes a deep breath. “Or was that something more?”

“I dont know.” The truth, you were too drunk to decipher your current feelings toward Rafe.

“What?” He scoffs. “I just caught you making out with my cousin,Y/N, and youre saying you don't know why?” He drops your hand, and faces forward, rubbing his eyes in frustration. Your eyes narrow at him. He was the one who'd failed to verbally recognize the fact that something definitely happened between you two. He's been avoiding it hardcore for the past month or so.

“No, Roman, I don't. Besides, you didn't catch me doing anything.” You snap. “The word ‘catch’ implies that i’m in trouble, and I can do whatever I fucking want, technically. Nobody else seems to give a damn about my feelings.” You run your hands through your messy hair. Maybe you shouldn't have thrown that in his face but at the moment, he was pissing drunk you off.

The lanky boy looks at you with ferocity lurking beneath his incredulous expression. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Use your fucking context clues.” You cuss back.

He just stares at you as you attempt to avoid looking him in the eyes. For a second it seems like he's going to finally acknowledge the kiss you shared, weeks ago. You see the recognition in his features for a fraction of a second before he’s up, pacing. “You're ridiculous. Seriously, if you think Rafe is gonna commit to you, or treat you well for that matter.”

Your mouth falls open in shock when you hear Rafes name come out of Romans mouth. He didn't just blatantly deflect the topic of conversation, did he? Bastard.

“Jesus, have you lost your mind? You know what kind of person he is, Y/N. I thought you were smarter than that.” He pinches the bridge of his nose as he spews his bullshit.

You take his dramatic, silent irritation as an invitation to add fuel to the fire, fed up with his week-long diversions from the underlying issue in your friendship. “Yeah, well, at least he didn't kiss me and then pretend it never happened.” You stand up and cross your arms defiantly.

Roman sighs a deep, shaky breath of air. “Y/N... Jesus. You really wanna do this, huh?” You look up, toeing the area of grass you'd just been staring at. His face, his eyes, his whole demeanour are pleading with you to stop. “It was my first kiss, Roman.”

He shuts his eyes for a second and you watch as his breathing becomes a little heavier. When he opens them, he starts toward your teary eyed figure but you step back and he stops in his tracks. “Y/N, i'm so sorry. I didn't know that.”

You nod, tears spilling over your waterline and cascading down your cheek into the ground. Where you wish you could disappear. You ignore the pain in your heart. You ignore the way this feels like a friendship ending argument. You ignore his own tears as they begin to meet yours in the soil.

“I know.” You sniffle, you didn't want to punish him. You don't even know what you want from this conversation. This isn't a good idea, you're drunk. You can't ignore the wave of anxiety that hits you, completely out of nowhere. “I just can't do this, Rome.”

You start to back up, but he follows you. “Do what?”

You squeeze your eyes shut and uncross your arms to instead wrap them around yourself. After a breath, you open them. Roman looks regretful. “Do what,Y/N?”

Be your friend, Is what you wanted to say.

“I can't see you right now.” Is what you say.

You turn around before he has time to see your face completely crumble. Panic, anxiety, and heart ache all fight for dominance over the sob working its way up your throat. You swallow it down and go find Nicky. You wouldn't be staying in Rafes room tonight.

⊱✿⊰

By the end of the movie, your two youngest siblings are asleep. With Olivia having every Sunday off, you and Nicky fold up the blankets quietly talking about the film. Meanwhile, your Parents had each carried a sibling to bed to be tucked in. You grab a stack of blankets and carry them into the hall to put away in the linen closet. When you come back to the living room, your Mom is refilling your parents wine glasses, preparing to watch another movie with your Dad.

Nicky makes eye contact with you and widens his eyes slightly, insinuating something up.

“Ah, the gangs all here. Good. Sit.” Your Dad walks into the den and clasps his hands quietly.

You and Nicky both sit down on a loveseat near the front door and exchange a look. Your parents only do these little meetings to drop big news.

“So, nothing major but Wednesday night you're both expected to be home early for dinner. We're having guests over and there's a surprise involved.”

Nicky groans,”Mom, please. If you're pregnant again, I'm getting emancipated.”

You scoff out a laugh at your brother's blatant statement, before covering it up as a cough when you get a look from your Mom.

“Dominique.” Your father deadpans. “If your mom is pregnant, I’ll take you all and run. It isn't that.”

Your mom downs her wine. “This is why they don't have respect, Joseph.”

Your Dad gives her a warm grin and wraps her up under his arm. “Like I said, just be home early for dinner. Understood?”

You and Nicky ultimately agree without too much prying for details. After bidding your Parents goodnight, you both make your way upstairs. Your brother stops at your door as you enter your room and leans against the doorframe. “So....” He trails off and you roll your eyes as you search through your dresser for a large Tshirt, settling on one that Roman left here.

“Yes, Nicky?”

“What happened last night? I saw you mackin’ on Rafe but why was Roman so mad?” He walks further into your room and plops on your bed.

“Nicky!” You whine, batting at him with the t-shirt in your hands. “Get the hell off my blankets, you went outside in that outfit!”

It's Nicky's turn to roll his eyes at your rules, as he dramatically rolls off of your bed onto a pile of laundry on the floor, stretching out like a starfish. “Whatever. So what happened? I noticed that you stayed at the house all day. And kinda have been for a while.” He adds.

You let out a dramatic sigh of despair and slide down your dresser so that you're sitting facing your bed. “I’m so dumb, Nicky. I think I fucked up.”

He sits up on his elbows, facing you. “Wait, what? What's the matter?”

You contemplate telling him everything for a moment. What's the worst that could happen? Then you think back to the last time you asked yourself that question, and any ideas of total honesty dissipate. “I don't know...” and then, you remember. “What did you mean when you said that me and Rafe made sense?”

He sits up all the way and musses his hair. “I don't know, I was drunk, Y/N. I guess I always just assumed you’d rebel against Mom and Dad. Rafe would make sense for that. More sense than your childhood best friend.”

"Me and Rafe are friends, too.” You point out, although you know it's not the same.

“Not like you and Roman.”

You contemplate this quietly. Nicky comes over to where you're sitting and plants himself beside you.

“Listen sis, I don't know what the hell is going on, but you can tell me if I need to kick someone's ass. I won't ask questions.”

You shake your head sadly. ”It's not like that. I just did a dumb thing and now I have to live with it.”

Your older brother stands up and ruffles your hair. “Well, that's nothing new, is it? Goodnight Y/N/N.”

“Goodnight, Nicky.”

He shuts your door and you change into your shirt before turning on your fan and hopping in bed.

After about 15 minutes of staring at your ceiling, trying to make sense of your feelings, you were over it. You were agonising over whether or not to check your phone for a text from Roman and beating yourself up over what happened with Rafe. You flip over and grab the TV remote. Deciding to listen to something scary, you settle on a rerun of the Paranormal Activity films and turn back over, letting the TV lull you to sleep.

Not 10 minutes later, when you're almost out like a light, does your phone begin ringing quietly on the nightstand. You register the noise and flail under the covers, frustratedly. You snatch your phone up and accept the call, barely registering the name on the screen.

“What?” You almost growl.

“Wow, hello to you too, beautiful.” Rafe’s deep voice rings through the speaker.

“Do not disturb means do not disturb, not call twice, Rafe.” You can't help your tone, your anxiety keeps you up most nights, and you were so close to ending the night on a good note, moments before.

“I'm sorry, I’d take any option that guaranteed your attention.” He laughs.” Did I wake you up?”

“Yes actually.” You sigh, readjusting your covers from the flail. “Did you need something?” “Can I come over?”

“Seriously, Rafe? Its-” You pull your phone away from your cheek and look at the time, faltering.

“Only 9 P.M.? Exactly.” You can hear his smug face over the phone. “So?”

You feel queasy at the thought of seeing Rafe, despite being so explicit with him the night before. It felt like a betrayal to Roman in a way because you two hadn’t spoken since the fight last night where he expressed his disapproval of Rafe and you together. Although a small part of you doesn't care about his opinion, after his blatant disregard for your feelings.

“I don't think that's a great idea, Rafe, my parents are awake downstairs.” You try.

He’s quiet for a second, and then there's an incoming facetime from him. You answer the call and you see Rafe sitting up, shirtless, against his headboard. He has to fight his smile, seeing you laying on your side, hair cascading around your shoulder like a waterfall of curls.

“Is it because of last night?”

You mentally smack yourself for answering a call where he can see your face. Rafe always knew when you were lying. When you guys were 12 and 13, you covered for him when he broke one of Wards Golf awards and he figured out that you had a tell. You couldn't make eye contact.

“W-what?”

“The real reason you don't want to see me.” He says in a bored tone. “Is it because of Roman?”

“No.” You roll your eyes.

“Dont lie to me, Y/N.” The dominant tone he's taking right now has you rethinking your previous statements.

“Fine, yeah. It Is, Rafe.” Pulling the covers up to your chin. “He’s one of my best friends, and you're his cousin. It feels weird that things are like this. I can't stop thinking about that stupid fight.”

You hear shuffling on Rafe’s end and then the sound of keys.

“What are you doing?”

“I'm comin over.” You start to protest but he cuts you off. “I'm gonna take your mind off of it.”

He ends the call and you're left staring at the screen dumbfounded. Now that he’s ended the call, you see a whole slew of texts and missed calls from John B and Kie, and even JJ asking you to join in on the boat day they had today. Nothing from Roman. He was usually always the first to cave after an argument, seeking you out almost every time. The lack of contact, admittedly worried you.

You sigh, sitting up in bed now. There are so many questions swirling around in your head. What was Roman thinking about? Was he still angry with you? What was Rafe thinking about? Was he going to try something? How were you supposed to hide yet another boy in your room without invoking your Mothers anger? More importantly though, how did you look right now?

You spring up and run to the ensuite bathroom. Your hair, once pinned up with a claw clip, now falls loosely around you with flyaway curlies everywhere and you wore only Roman’s T Shirt and a pair of boy short panties as makeshift PJs. You pull your clip out and stare at the excess tendrils of hair falling around you, trying to finger comb them down.

“Is it even worth it, for real?” You ask yourself as you eye the brush that would no doubt make your situation worse. Deciding that, no, it isn't worth it, you grab your mouthwash and gargle a mouthful before spitting it out, rinsing your mouth, and washing your face.

Back in your room, you realise how hot and stuffy it is. You unlock the balcony doors that face the ocean, so that Rafe can get inside. Then you pad across the floor and unlatch your bedroom window, going to open it for the breeze but nearly screaming out loud as it's pushed open, seconds later. “Ahh!”

Rafes hand shoots out to cover your mouth as he precariously balances himself between your windowsill and the branch he's perched on. He gives you an exasperated look. “Jesus, I literally live 5 minutes away. Move.”

You clutch your chest and take a step back just as he pushes off of the branch and pulls himself through the window. “Why didn't you just climb onto the balcony, you could've fallen.” You comment as he steadies himself.

Rafe examines your face, stepping closer. “Your Mom had all the trees near it cut down, remember?”

You’d forgotten about that. As soon as you turned 15 your Mom had to escape-proof your room because of an incident involving a party, a week prior. Which included cutting down the trees near your balcony and removing the garden trellis that crept up right beside it, leaving only an old oak tree beside the window that was across from your bedroom door. “Oh, right.”

You back up and sit on the edge of your bed, patting the spot next to you. Rafe pushes his hair off of his forehead as he takes a seat. The sound of the movie playing is all that can be heard as you both quietly observe each other. He looks really good in his simple blue tee and basketball shorts, and you can't help the natural, girly giddiness you feel.

“You look really pretty.” he starts.

Letting out a small laugh, “Shut up. I look like I was about to go to sleep. You look good though.” You go to smack his chest playfully, but he catches your hand.

“You're still the most gorgeous girl I’ve ever seen.”

Your heart flutters a little at his words, but you quell it and withdraw your hand slowly. One thing Rafe and his cousin had in common was their notoriety as two of the island's biggest playboys. “Don't say things you don't mean, Rafe.”

Rafe smiles at you knowingly, yet you don't know why. “Remember when we were like...” He thinks about it. “I was 9 and you were 8. We were playing hide and seek with a bunch of other kids at Olivia’s garden party?” He questions.

You remember. You’d gotten locked into the old outdoor cellar, while trying to use it as a hiding spot. You'd been locked in for what felt like hours as you plotted a way out, the music and ongoing party drowning out your cries. As a kid you remember thinking you’d be down there forever, You nod, telling Rafe to go on.

“You had all the other kids going crazy, we all thought you’d gotten kidnapped but we were too scared to tell anyone.” He chuckles at the memory. “But then you walked around the side of the house covered in dirt and I remember being so happy to see you. Even though you were crying and looked like a mess, running for your parents. You were the prettiest girl to me then. You're still that same girl, now.”

You make a face, scrunching your nose. “Why is my near death experience such a significant memory for you? I could've died, digging that little tunnel under the door.”

“But you didn't.” He laughs, ruffling your hair. “Jesus, you suck at accepting compliments.”

“Yeah, well, you kinda suck at giving them.” You smack his hands away, smoothing your mussed hair. His eyes shoot to your bare legs as your T-shirt rides up. Then they flick up to scrutinise the shirt itself and you wonder if he’ll mention anything about its owner.

Instead he tugs at the hem of it with a sudden mischievous glint in his eyes. “Anything under here?”

You blush. “Rafe, shut up.” You weren't expecting Rafe to be here right now in the first place. In fact, you'd tried to avoid it. Just because you guys got drunk and fooled around didn't mean you suddenly were into Rafe. That's just what teenagers do, right? Yeah, he may look like a god and he always smells good but you didnt wanna risk your friendship with him or Roman further.

“Make me.”

His fingers slip past the hem, teasing their way up your thighs. Your breath hitches in your throat, and you swear you stop breathing. But when his fingers brush too close to your clothed pussy, you snatch at his wrist and he looks up at your face, fingers frozen over your core.

“Rafe, what do you want?”

“Honestly?” You nod, matching his heavy eye contact.

“I just wanna make you feel good, baby. ” He inches his face closer to yours, while you slowly start to forget why you stopped him. “Right now I really want to make you cum on my fingers.” He only breaks eye contact as he presses his lips against yours roughly. You loosen your grip on his wrist, your inhibitions melting at his actions.

He takes the opportunity to press his thumb against your clit, eliciting a soft whine into his mouth. Your breaths mingle together, hearts beginning to race in sync with the electric tension that's filling the air.

Rafe cradles your face gently in one hand, fingertips tracing the delicate lines of your jaw as your tongues swirl against each other. His warm touch causes a shiver to go down your spine and he smirks into the kiss. You feel his heartbeat against your chest as he lowers you onto the bed, his fingers stroking you over your panties.

“Rafe,” You coo against his soft lips. “Keep touching me there.”

“Yeah, Princess? Like this?” Rafe drags his thumb around your clit in circles, increasing the pressure. Your hips grind involuntarily towards his hand as you nod, a moan escaping your lips.

“Shhh, be quiet.” He presses another short kiss to your lips, letting go of your face to yank your shirt up to your belly and focus his gaze on his handiwork.

Rafe continues to tease you, your panties preventing you from feeling his skin. He looks up at you, watching your reaction as he ghosts his fingers over your entrance again. You were suddenly filled with a longing for something more - an indefinable desire that was rooted in your core, and it made you shiver with pleasure.

Rafe smiles smugly as he watches you, his gaze tender yet smouldering. He leans forward and kisses you, your mouths exploring each other with an intensity that takes your breath away. With each kiss, your concerns about Roman faded away, replaced by something new and exciting and unbearably sweet.

When he finally pulls away, Rafe drags his hand away from your pussy to brush lightly against your hips, tracing a gentle line along the curve of your waist. You shiver again, skin prickling with pleasure as he moves his hands lower.

To your surprise his fingers lace between yours, and he gently tugs you towards him. “Do you want me to keep touching you, baby?” You nod desperately, extremely flushed. “Can you keep quiet?”

You nod again and before you can protest his fingers are in your panties. He teases you slowly, and his breathing becomes heavier. You're lost in a world of sensation as his thumb finds your clit again, beginning to create blissful, swirling patterns.

His fingers slowly trail lower, to your entrance, and you can feel your body responding to his touch, almost dripping over his fingers. Your skin is alive with a pleasure you've never felt before.

Rafe groans while you throw your head back as he begins pushing his index and middle fingers inside of you, the stretching sensation too intense for you to take it. You grab at his forearm as he begins pumping his fingers in and out of you, the heat from his touch making you moan.

”W-ait.” You attempt to push his arm away but he holds you in place with his free arm, his pace becoming more insistent. The painful stretch begins to fade into something much more pleasurable.

“Let me make you feel good,Y/N.”

Rafe moves his fingers at a quick pace, repeatedly stroking against your G-spot until you're a whining, moaning mess. As you begin to feel yourself nearing an orgasm, you silently beg him to stop before you could release, as if that would make this any better. Rafe, however, seemed to be enjoying your reaction and continued his assault, his fingers sliding deeper and faster.

You felt your entire body ignite with a pleasure that was both overwhelming and exquisite. Your hands find his shirt and you ball it up in your fists, feeling yourself release, squirting on his hand and your covers. You’re screaming muffled profanities into Rafes palm as your orgasm finally engulfs you. Your body goes limp with relief, your breathing ragged as you lie there, trembling.

Rafe withdraws his fingers and sits up, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips. You lay there for a few moments, trying to process what just happened. You felt embarrassed and ashamed, but at the same time, you couldn't deny the pleasure you had just experienced. As you slowly sit up, fixing your panties, Rafe's smirk widens.

"That was quite the experience, hmm?" he says in a smug voice.

You could feel your cheeks flush and you quickly look away, your heart pounding with a mix of emotions. Rafe leans closer and puts his hand on your shoulder, turning you to face him. "Hey, It's okay," he says softly. "You don't have to be embarrassed. I'm just glad I made you feel that good. That was fun right?"

You nodded, your face still flushed with embarrassment. You look away again, not wanting to meet his gaze. ‘It's just that... I didn't expect it to feel that way. I'm kind of overwhelmed. Sorry if that sounds stupid.”

Rafe pulls you into his chest and wraps an arm around you. “It doesn't sound stupid. I get it, I've never seen a girl squirt before, either. I'm sorry if that was too much.”

You roll your eyes, as he can't see you, at his boyish thoughts. "It's fine, Rafe.” You pull away from Rafes hug and stare at your carpet awkwardly. Sensing your hesitance he looks away from you nonchalantly, “You tired?”

Seeing the question as an out, you meet his eyes and nod, feeling the atmosphere in the room change. His smile is small, disappointed. “I'll see you tomorrow then? Or Wednesday?” You furrow your eyebrows. “The dinner that your parents are hosting..?”

You remember your Dads statement earlier, the dinner and the surprise. “Oh, okay yeah. You're coming?”

“Yeah, So are Olivia and Roman.” Rafe replies as he stands up, wiping his cum covered hands on his shorts. You internally cringe at how awkward this interaction is turning out to be. It's your fault, you have to fucking ruin everything. You nod your head as if you aren't mentally cursing yourself out. “But hey, Y/N?”

You meet his expectant stare. “Yeah?”

He kisses your forehead before backing towards your window, smirking as he opens it once again. “I took your mind off of it, didn't I?” And with that he's gone.

⊱✿⊰

He did not, in fact, take your mind off of it.

Two hours later, you're still awake, staring at your ceiling fan trying to drown out the negative thoughts eating you alive. You had a tendency to overthink, and with that came anxiety. The best remedy for your anxiety was alcohol, which not only did you not have access too at the moment, but it also caused you to make dumb bitch decisions, occasionally. You couldn't help but crave it anyways.

You felt incredibly guilty and even ashamed that you let things go that far with Rafe, especially given the fact that he didn't seem to be concerned about your actual feelings about it.

As the minutes go by and sleep evades you, you give up rolling over to pick up your silenced phone. You have a slew of unanswered notifications but one name immediately catches your attention. Sitting up in bed you click on the notification, fast as shit.

45 Minutes Ago

Romeo: Jelli bbeen

Romeo: com to our beecfh

Rome: Plz im srory

Fuck, I'm a horrible person, you instantly hit the call button, knowing that he’s drunk off of his ass. When the call goes to voicemail straight away, you hop out of bed and throw on a pair of shorts and crocs, slipping quietly out of your room determined to go make sure he's okay.

You pause at the top of the stairs, listening for the sound of your parents, when you hear nothing you creep down the carpeted stairs slowly.

FInally reaching the back door, you slide it open as quietly as you can and creep outside. Shutting it behind you, you turn around to walk towards Romans house when you spot a figure, down on the beach, near your family's dock.

You curse under your breath and hurry towards the figure. As you near, you can clearly see Romans broad torso hunched over, one arm laying on his knee holding a bottle of Jack and the other stuck in his extremely messy hair.

“Rome.” You call softly so as not to startle him.

He raises his head slightly, back to you, but doesn't move otherwise. “Jellybean?”

“Yeah... it's me, what's going on Roman?” You put a hand on his shoulder, sitting down beside him. “What are you doing sitting out here? It's almost Midnight.”

Roman looks at you in a mixture of melancholy and clear intoxication. His lips twitch into a slight frown, as if he is going to cry, but only momentarily, before he takes a shot and hands you the bottle. You take it, gratefully. “I needed to see you, talk to you.” He’s slurring, dangerously. ”I really fucking hate what happened yesterday.”

Before you reply you take a shot too, and sigh. “Which part?”

“All of it. I really fucking hated it all, guppy.” He turns towards you, his demeanor slightly more defeated than a minute ago. He was naturally a manic person, but when he was drunk, he went from tough guy to busting out every pet name in the book in hopes of being babied. “Seeing Rafe touch you, seeing you like it.... us fighting.”

Your eyes widen, slightly. “What does that even mean, Roman?

Roman stares at you with his sad green eyes, dejectedly. “I want to fix it. I fucked up and I want to fix it.” He taps the bottle in your hand and you hold eye contact as you take another drink, passing it to him afterwards, him doing the same.

“It's not entirely your fault, Roman.” You let your eyes fall to the sand between you. You hated lying, but you didn't know what was going on in his head and telling him about Rafe being in your room, less than 3 hours ago, would possibly just serve to make him more upset. “I shouldn't have kissed Rafe.” You omit the part about you grinding and cumming on his dick, for Romans sake.

He grabs your hand in his and pulls you to scoot closer, you do. “Ya’guys only kissed cuz’ I never talked to you about us.” he says. “M’ sorry if I hurt you baby. I love you, Y/N. I really fucking love you.” He cups your face, dragging his thumbs across your cheeks.

You hold your breath, deja vu from a few weeks ago hits you square in the chest. This is exactly how he kissed you the first time. You've wanted to hear those words from him for weeks, hoping that he was secretly in love with you too, not while he was this heavily inebriated, however.

You gently grab his hands and squeeze them, lowering them so they are between you both. “Maybe we should talk about this in the morning, bubba?”

Roman's lip starts trembling, barely noticeable, at the nickname. “Y/N, no. You deserve an explanation, please let me explain.” He whines. “I do love you. It wasn't about you.” He looks at your joined hands for a moment before placing a kiss on your knuckles and peering hesitantly up into your eyes.

You couldn't help but want to hear him out. Your heart constricts as he begins speaking in a pained voice. “It's my Mom, Y/N. Shes fucking insane. Do you remember, 9th grade, I was with Allie Mcentyre?”

You nod, pensively. You'd been friends with Allie that year, because she was dating Roman, before she abruptly cut you off. Roman seemed not to care, so you didn't either. “Yeah before she ditched us.”

He grimaces. “She didn't ditch us, Y/N.” You furrow your eyebrows in question. “She was the first girl I ever brought around Mom, and the entire fucking time, she gaslit and- and lied an' manipulated both of us." Roman pauses as he hiccups, and gathers his words. "She would text her cryptic shit from my phone and then delete it so that it seemed like her angry texts were random, she’d tell her that she wasn't good enough for me and me the same. Allie told me she didnt want to see me anymore after my mom told her mom that I’d been having sex with multiple girls at a time.” He chuckles. “I was still a fucking virgin. She just wanted to ruin what I had. I realized she’s only going to let me be with someone that she chooses for me.”

“Roman...” Your mouth opens and shuts while you process your next words. “Im so fucking sorry, that I didnt know about that. That's literally insane.”

Roman chuckles drily, you pull him into a bone crushing hug. “It's okay, I didn't tell you.”

You squeeze him and pull away. "I shouldve been there for you, I'm sorry."

Roman shakes his head, placing a hand back on your cheek, thumb resuming its soft, delicate strokes. “No. I'm so sorry. You didn't deserve the way I treated you. I love you, jellybean, please don't be mad at me.”

You gently press your palm against his hand but this time you don’t remove it. “I could never stay mad at you, Roman. I love you too.” How could you ever be angry with this side of him? Nobody ever gets to see this side but you. The whiskey stupor you were beginning to feel caused you to zero in on the tall boy beside you.

His lazy, responsive smile is so boyish and sweet, it makes you buzz with desire, and briefly you recall wondering what it would feel like to do what you did with Rafe, with Roman instead. They are different in more ways than they were similar. Roman is hard and broken, but his pure heart radiates through the cracks, whereas Rafe was a tried and true asshole, though you had to confess you didn't know him as well as you knew the boy in front of you.

“Y/N?” Roman bites his lip and a slight frown forms between his brows as he glances down at your lips. “Can I kiss you?”

In lieu of answering, you tangle your hands in his hair and pull him to you, desperately connecting your lips. You caught Roman off guard but he quickly grabs ahold of your waist in his free hand, managing to hastily pull you onto his lap.

As your mouths slowly move together, a warm electrifying feeling spreads through you, time seems to slow down, allowing you to focus solely on his lips and the emotions they were making you feel. His hands find yours, intertwining them with his, solidifying the bond you two were experiencing.

You couldn't help but think about the way Rafe kissed you earlier, only in that his kiss was much less intimate, yet more hungry and physically intense. WIth Roman, it was a slow dance of tongues and lips meshing that made you soaked for him in a completely different way. You purposely rolled your hips over his and he groans, squeezing your joined hands. You break the kiss and lean back slightly, admiring the boy who has your heart.

“Hmm, baby?” His lips look a delicious, puffy red and his eyes are half lidded, he looks so sexy right now. Before you could help it, you’re grinding your pussy against his member again, both of you letting out satisfied moans at the friction. “Y/N, shit. What are you doing to me?”

The whiskey in your system has your body acting on its own, out of sexual frustration from the months of built up tension between you two, desperate to explore it with him. You just let his cousin finger fuck you. Fuck, two shots wouldn't be enough.

You pick up the bottle of Jack Daniels, resigned to the choices you were about to make, and downed two or three shots. You force yourself to ignore the burn, and Romans drunk, questioning gaze as you tipped his chin and poured some into his mouth. He shakes his head with a grimace, swallowing down the shitty tasting alcohol.

Without wasting a beat, you begin peppering kisses along his neck, and he lets out a spur of dirty, drunken noises from the back of his throat.

“Does that feel good?” You can't help but tease your clit along his clothed erection again, body moving intoxicatedly of its own free will, chasing the friction his shorts provided, as he struggles to answer and resigns to nodding. You move your mouth up to his ear, sucking softly on it before whispering, “Roman, I want you so bad, want you to fuck me.”

“Wh-” Instantly his hands are on your hips, pushing you slightly back. “Jellybean, what?” He seems almost instantly sobered as he examines your features. "I thought you were a virgin?” You flush at your own obviousness, feeling it even over the warmth of the alcohol coursing through you.

“Well... I mean, I am. But, I want you to be the first.” You grip onto the bottom of his shirt, glancing down, doing your best not to appear as the tipsy, desperate slut you feel like.

Roman sighs heavily, closing his eyes for a second, squeezing your hips gently. “Y/N, I dont know about you, but Im really fucked up right now.” You nod, still not looking up but he lowers his head, forcing you to meet his eyes. “I want it to be good for you. I want it to be special, not like this, pretty girl.”

Your eyes begin to well up quickly, in humility at the perceived rejection and you look out at the ocean, wiping at your tears before they can fall. “I'm sorry, Rome, I'm so stupid. I'm sorry.”

“Love, you aren't stupid. Believe me when I say I want this as bad as you.” Roman shocks you when he removes your hand, that's clutching his shirt, to place it on his hard length. “This is what you fucking do to me, baby. And when the time is right, I won't just be the first, I'll be the last too.” He gives you a lopsided smirk and a delicate kiss on the lips.

You offer him a small smile in response, he was being such sweetheart and you felt horrible. At the forefront of your clouded brain, you were desperate to replace Rafe's touch with Roman's as if it would erase your prior actions, but you shove it to the back, focusing on his reassurance. "Is that a promise?"

“Of course, it is. I know I've been so wrapped up in my own head, trying to keep everything...normal, but I don't want to do that anymore.” He pulls you close again and rests his forehead against yours. “I want this, baby. I want you.”

No, no, no. Roman, dont. Not right now. The guilt is going to crush you. You look down. “Will you be my girlfriend?” His hopeful eyes await yours.

You're quiet for a beat too long before you slowly look back into his expectant face. “I can't, Roman... my Dad. You know how he is.” It's bullshit, but he doesn't know it. Yeah your dad would have an aneurysm but you didn't care in the slightest. You had to make sure that Rafe wouldn't say anything about what you guys did, and break things off with him first, before you made an even bigger mess. Roman was wasted, he might not even remember this in the morning.

Romans face falls a bit at your words. He just promised to endure his mothers psychopathy for you and you wouldn't even return the favour? You hate the look that flashes across his face and hurry to reassure him. “I'll talk to him, okay? After dinner on Wednesday.”

He nods somberly, “Yeah, okay. If you want to.”

You grab his face and plant a kiss on his pouty lips. “I do, Romeo, don't worry. And I promise, I will.”

He laughs at that, loving the nickname. You made many mistakes, but you wouldn't let this be one of them. The feelings that the boy under you made you feel, compared to absolutely nothing else. At least that's what you keep telling yourself.

[lambtotheslaughterr]

Us Forever

A Rafe Cameron Oneshot

[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: 3.4k

Dividers provided by @firefly-graphics

ALWAYS YOU (prequel mini series)

OONA'S MASTERLIST

request for @waskaf

requests are currently CLOSED

Summary: Reader's life two years after Rafe Cameron forced her into a relationship. She still dreams of freedom but a special surprise at Midsummer's threatens those dreams...

            Being Rafe Cameron’s girlfriend never became something you got used to. Not even two years later. You only felt like a trapped wild animal that had been forced to become a domestic house pet. But little did that matter to anyone else. Not your family, not the Cameron’s, & more so, not Rafe.

            You never told anyone the truth or details of how you & Rafe came to be a ‘couple’, but you also never hid your desire to be anywhere else but there beside him. Your parents reprimanded you for it, ecstatic that their only daughter was dating the Rafe Cameron & would ultimately be moving back to the island—something you had no say in. And Rafe’s parents? They were just happy that someone, that person being you, was the reason their son made a complete 180. But you had nothing to do with that, not willingly anyway.

            Ever since Rafe forced you into a relationship & took control of every aspect of your life, he had begun to take his role as his father’s only son seriously. Ward introduced him to the business world & before you knew it, Rafe was working under his father, learning the ins & outs of what would one day be his responsibility.

            It unnerved you often Rafe talked about his ‘legacy’, in more ways than one. Most of the time he would come home from working at the office & crawl into bed beside you, telling you about his visions of the future for the company. How, with his father’s teachings, he would bring the company to it’s highest capacity. He was confident in his skills. Even you were forced to admit that he was good at what he did, though you never said it out loud. But at the end of those talks of the future, Rafe would always look adoringly at you.

            “The company will thrive. I’ll be in charge. And you’ll be right beside me for it all. Me, you, & a couple little ones.”

            Whenever he spoke about ‘little ones’, you felt nauseous. You never wanted to be a mother. Your mom never took you seriously when the topic arose, saying the predictable stuff like ‘you’re young, you’ll change your mind’ or ‘you’ll regret not having kids when you’re older’. But you were solid in your decision. Having kids was never on your agenda, but neither was moving back to the island & being trapped under the hand of Rafe Cameron.

            The only remotely decent thing that came from being Rafe Cameron’s number one girl was that he had softened towards you over time. In the beginning, you were resistant, & you still were to this day, but you didn’t put up as much of a fight as before. It was like grieving over losing someone you loved who died. The days got easier as time passed but the gap they lift in you life would always be there. Your gap was your old life. Before Rafe. Before Tyson. Before all the bullshit. But soon enough, your life with Rafe became normalized, if not still regretful. All you could hope for, despite knowing hoping was a foolish thing to do, was that Rafe would one day grow bored with you. And then you could leave & never come back.

            On this particular day, you were out shopping for a dress. The Midsummer’s Soiree was that evening & Rafe wanted to buy you a dress just for the occasion. You insisted that you had plenty to choose from, which you did once Rafe began spoiling you with clothes & material goods, but he said it was a special night & he wanted you to feel as special as he thought you to be. So, you didn’t fight against him. It was better to just give him what he wanted, Tyson’s words from two years ago always echoing in your mind…

            He’s a child. Give him what he wants & he’ll stop his crying.

            And though Rafe never exactly cried, he did get frustrated easily, frighteningly so. Therefore, you almost always gave him exactly what he wanted.

            You were browsing a rack of dresses in one of the finest dress shops in town when you felt Rafe appear behind you, his hands on your waist. He leaned forward to kiss you on the cheek before hugging you from behind. You learned to not react to his touches despite them always making you uncomfortable.

            “Find anything?” He asked, a smile evident in his voice.

            You shrugged in response. You had no heart or genuine interest in finding a ‘special’ dress, let alone attending Midsummer’s. The only time you ever attended the annual event was once in high school your freshman year. You went with your parents & they danced all night while you sat off to the side in misery. A place among those people was never where you were meant to be, & now you were around people like that every day.

            “No.” You muttered, mustering a smile, “We really don’t have to get a new dress, Rafe. I have plenty at home.”

            Rafe spun you around then to face him, he placed your arms over his shoulders as he locked his hands together on your lower back. He peered down at you knowingly, “Remember what I said…”

            Your teeth sunk into your lip, nodding, “Yeah, I know. A special dress for a special night.” Whatever that meant.

            “But this works out.” Rafe added, “Because I had one specially ordered for you. Designed with you I mind.”

            That forced a frown from you. It wouldn’t be the first time Rafe ordered something without your knowledge, but usually it was lingerie that would be for his eyes only. What the hell did he have in mind for a dress?

            “And as much as I love your look.” He fingered the hem of your skirt. You glanced down to take in your outfit. Unlike most of the women on the island who dressed like it was them who should be partnered with Rafe, you still chose to dress as alternatively as Rafe would allow you. He admitted one time that that was one of the things that drew him to you in high school, your ‘abnormal’ taste in fashion. You knew there was nothing abnormal about it. Back in the city, you fit in perfectly, but on the island, you were like a sore thumb among the label fashion wearing sheep.

            “I want you to be the most beautiful woman at the party.” Rafe smirked at that, “Even though you already will be.”

            His compliments did little to comfort you.

            “Whatever you say, Rafe.” You sighed, pulling your arms down. But before you could return them to your side, Rafe caught a wrist & began tugging you through the store near the back where the dressing rooms were.

            Once there, a woman wearing a blouse & pencil skirt greeted the both of you, “Mr. Cameron, your order.”

            You eyed the black garment bag she held in her hands.

            “Thank you, Genevieve.” Rafe accepted the bag from her before he spun around to face you, holding it up, “Well, try it on.”

            Inhaling sharply, you forced a smile. Taking the garment bag from him, you entered a dressing room at the furthest end of the private corridor. But before you could close the door & lock it, Rafe pushed his way inside.

            “What are you doing?” You asked sheepishly, not particularly liking where this was leading to.

            Rafe closed the door behind him, locking it before smirking knowingly at you.

            A dizzying headache hit you then.

            Memories of that night that felt so long ago flooded your mind.

            Rafe’s house. The party. Tyson & Bridgette. The basement bathroom. Rafe trapping the two of you within in, much like he was doing now. His hands, his violent hands. The predatory look in his eyes. The sound of his heavy breathing as he…

            No, no. No.

            You stumbled where you stood, catching yourself on the wall in the tight space of the dressing room.

            “Whoa, hey.” Rafe caught your other hand, “You alright?”

            No. You weren’t.

            Though you were with him every day for the last two years, you managed to block out the memory of that night, at least most of the time. You really only ever dreamt about it, often waking up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night, your heart racing. It killed you, knowing that you were strong-armed into being in a relationship with your rapist, but you trained yourself to not think about it, it was the only way you could survive being with him.

            “Here, sit down.” Rafe moved you to the bench big enough for only one person as he kneeled before you, “What’s wrong?”

            “Nothing.” You lied. You never spoke about that night, let alone to Rafe.

            “You’re crying.”

            You frowned at that, bringing your hand to your cheeks. Indeed, you were. Your cheeks were wet as tears slipped down them.

            “I’m fine.”  You repeated. But the walls of the small space were closing in on you.

            Rafe sighed then, eyeing you sadly, “It’s about that, isn’t it?”

            His question made your body shake. You didn’t want to talk about it. Couldn’t.

            Shaking your head, you tried to stand up again, to force yourself to be normal, but Rafe kept you where you were, his hands on your shoulders.

            “_____.” Rafe caught your reddened eyes, “Don’t lie to me.”

            Swallowing a lump that had formed in your throat, you shook your head again, “I’m okay. I promise.”

            But your attempt at reassuring him only resulted in him hanging his head in disappointment.

            “Ya know, I already apologized for that night.” Rafe reminded you.

            It didn’t matter though. It didn’t change anything. You were still trapped with him, literally & figuratively.

            “It’s not about that.” You retorted, your voice wavering.

            He looked at you then. It was apparent in his eyes that he didn’t believe you.

            “No?” You watched in quiet fear as his eyes darkened.

            You said nothing. If you said anything more than his anger would only grow in size.

            “Get undressed.” Rafe stood to his full height, his eyes glaring down at you, “Now, _____.”

            Pressing your lips together to hide your quivering lips, you nodded. Standing up, with Rafe’s slender yet large frame taking up most of the space, you reached for the top of your skirt. You shimmied out of it, letting it pool around your shoes. Then you slipped your top off, avoiding Rafe’s eyes as he watched you in the mirror. You then kicked your shoes off before reaching for the garment bag that was on the opposite wall.

            But Rafe blocked you.

            Your heart lurched in your chest. Willing yourself to look up at him, you feigned normalcy, “I have to try it on, don’t I?”

            He said nothing, only stared at you. The tension in the small space could be cut with a knife. The way he towered of you, watching you with that hard stare of his, only kept you feeling you were back in that basement bathroom.

            “How many times do I have to apologize for that night?”

            You could never apologize enough, you thought to yourself but didn’t dare say it out loud.

            “I thought we had a good thing going, _____.”

            “We do!” You rushed out, trying to smile as best as you in an attempt to cool his brewing rage. “We do, Rafe. I’m just not feeling well, that’s all.”

            But he only shook his head, “If we had a good thing you wouldn’t keep lying to me!”

            His voice was harsh, but low so as to not draw attention.

            “I love you.” He told you firmly, as if he was willing you to believe him. But people who loved one another didn’t rape them then trap them into a relationship they couldn’t get out of.

            “I always have, it’s always been you. No one but you in my eyes.”

            The tears returned & you felt your feet shifting nervously beneath you. Your heart was hammering, your breath coming in pants.

            “I know.” You replied, “I love you, too.”

            Rafe snatched your chin then, his fingers digging into your cheeks. You whimpered pathetically, gripping his wrist as he forced you to look at him. His eyes stared into your own, “Then quit your fucking crying. I could have anyone I want, all of them happy to be right where you are, but I chose you.”

            “I know, Rafe, I’m sorry.” You clung to his arm.

            “Good.” He cocked his head, “Because you’re mine. Always will be. It’s you & I, _____. Us, forever.”

            With that, Rafe released you & you collapsed into him. He stabilized you as you rubbed at your cheeks. You sniffled, shaking off the nerves Rafe caused you. When you felt as put together as you could, Rafe snatched your shirt off the ground, thrusting it into your chest, “Get dressed. You can just try the dress on at home.”

            You nodded but said nothing, not wanting to upset him further.

            Rafe caught you by the chin again, though his grip was softer this time around. You forced a content smile. He didn’t return it. But he did close the distance & kiss you, his lips harsh & possessive over your own. You willed yourself to return the kiss, to which he sighed satisfyingly into.

            “I’ll be waiting outside.” He told you as he wiped any sign that you had been crying from your cheeks. “Don’t make me wait.”

            With that, Rafe exited the room, & you could finally breathe. You collapsed against the wall, your hand on your chest as you felt it pulsing with fear. Slowing down your heart & breathing, you finished getting dressed before grabbing the garment bag. As you exited the room, you jumped in surprise at the woman, Genevieve, who appeared to be waiting for you.

            “How did you like it?” She asked gleefully.

            You were momentarily confused before realizing she was referring to the dress.

            “Oh, it’s beautiful.” You lied, not even having seen a peek of it.

            She chuckled happily at that, “You’re so lucky. So many girls would kill to have their boyfriend personally order a dress just for them. It’s clear how much he adores you.”

            Yeah, lucky.

            The dress was indeed beautiful. Not to your tastes, but beautiful, nonetheless. The look on Rafe’s face when you emerged from the bathroom had his eyes lighting up like he was seeing one of the seven wonder of the world for the first time. Had you been in a consensual relationship with him, you might have felt beautiful, too. But after how he cornered you in the dressing room, you were only resolved in your thoughts that Rafe would always be a monster. It didn’t matter who he worked for or what he bought you or how he looked at you. Rafe Cameron was your living nightmare.

            The Midsummer’s Soiree was as sophisticated as you remembered. Everyone was dressed in their best, & you & Rafe were no exception. You could tell that he was more than happy to parade you around, boasting about how he worked with the designer to create you a one of a kind. You smiled along, agreeing with all those who didn’t know any better that Rafe was the best thing to happen to you.

            Ward & Rose had a table near the dance floor that you spent most of your night at. Ward & Rafe were off networking or talking about god-know-what with anyone they could. Rose was making her rounds, her boisterous laugh reaching your ears every now & then. As much as you loathed to be there, you were at least relieved that you could remain seated & alone for most of it. It was like when you were fourteen all over again.

            But at some near the end of the night, you felt eyes on you. Raising your head, you caught Rafe’s from across the garden. He was smiling in your direction, his gaze soft & light. To anyone else, it likely looked like some scene out of a rom-com film, but the reality couldn’t be further from the allusion.

            A moment later, Rafe began walking towards you, your eyes holding each other’s until he was standing right before you. He held out his hand, his eyes dancing over the details of your face, “We haven’t danced once tonight.”

            You knew better than to deny him, especially before others.

            Accepting his offer, you slipped your hang into his before he led you onto the dance floor. The song was a slow one & other couples around you clung to each other romantically. You steeled yourself to do the same.

            Rafe peered down at you, the corners of his mouth upturned as he admired you.

            “You’re beautiful.”

            You feigned embarrassment, “Thank you, Rafe. But I think it’s the dress doing the job.”

            He shook his head, his eyes never leaving your own, “No. You’re beautiful just the way you are.”

            And as if the cosmic gods were playing some cruel joke, Just The Way You Are by Bruno Mars began playing over the speakers.

            Rafe noticed as well, & he began to laugh lightly, “See? Not the only one who thinks so.”

            “Ha.” You chuckled awkwardly, “Yeah.

            Rafe stopped dancing then but he still held you in his arms.

            “I meant what I said earlier, _____. I love you. It’s us, forever. I’ll always take care of you.”

            You felt the urge to frown but resisted, managing to stare up at him as lovingly as you could possibly manage, “I know. You already have been.”

            He nodded at that. Then he dropped your hands before inhaling deeply, as if he was growing uncomfortable. You watched warily as he stuffed his hands into his pockets, his eyes on the floor as you stood there dumbly. Others were still dancing to Bruno. But you two were not.

            “This is my promise to you.” Rafe finally spoke as he pulled out a small velvety box from his pocket.

            Your eyes widened in shock as Rafe lowered himself to one knee.

            “_____, I promise to love you with all of my being. To protect you from what scares you most, even if sometimes that is me.”

            Rafe snapped open the box, revealing a stunning ring that glinted under the lights of the soiree. At this point, a majority of people realized what was happening & watched in awe as the man before you proposed to spending your whole lives together.

            “I have been in love with you since I was sixteen, & now you’re here & you’re mine. I’ll never let you go. I promise to remind you of how loved & beautiful you are every single day, until the end of time.”

            Never before had your heart raced as fast as it did then. Not in the bathroom two years ago, not in the dressing room earlier that day. Never. But they all still had one thing in common: that you were trapped, & would be forever.

            “Please, marry me. Make me the happiest man alive, more than you already do just by putting up with me.” Rafe’s hand shook as he held the ring up to you, his eyes staring longingly into your own.

            Squeals of joy sounded around you as women gushed at the public display of affection. Over Rafe’s head, you spotted Ward & Rose, arm in arm as they watched on, their own prideful smiles on their face as they watched their son unveil his raw feelings for everyone to see. Your world was spinning & you could do nothing to stop it. Tears blurred your vision, & much to your demise, every single person around you mistook it as tears of joy. But they were tears of exhaustion.

            There would be no getting away from Rafe. You would never be free of him, & that ring he held up was a symbol of that. But you could do nothing, say nothing.

            “_____?” Rafe’s voice, which sounded far & faded, stole your attention.

            You peered down at him, your brows creased & cheeks wet.

            “Marry me.”

            Unable to say anything, all you could do was nod. With that, Rafe beamed up at you, rising to his full height. He caught your left hand & slipped the rock onto your finger. Cheers of celebration filled your ears as you stared at the ring. Rafe gathered you in his arms, kissing the top of your head. It took everything in you to hug him back.

            “It’s you & I.” Rafe whispered in your ear, his voice filled with triumph, “Us, forever.”

this is 6/10 requests from my 500 followers celebration request opening!

thank you to @waskaf for request a sequel oneshot! please, share your thoughts w me!

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[ranbitteeth]

hiii i love ur art and ur fics!!🫶🏽

im desperateee for a reader rails mizu w strap fic😭😭 all the smut i see are of reader bottoming and that makes me hella dysphoric sigh

so so like reader stretching mizu out, lots of whimpering, mizu being nervous, mizu feeling full and claimed, just messy subby mizu taking big strap for the first time plssss😭😭😭😭 maybe some pussy eating foreplay idk, whatever u find best and fun to write. i just need mizu to be a subby bottom its plaguing my mind😵‍💫

A/N: Your wish is my command, dearest! Hhmmm I can never really tell if you guys want a modern/cannon compliant setting— but I find my words flowing easier for the latter. If this isn’t to your liking, I can always write another one! More modern and fluffy

Tags: Possessive!Reader, GN!Reader, Reader is besties w Madame Kaji, DomTop! Reader, Jealous! Reader, Straps, Tried to be historically accurate but one can only do so much research on ancient japanese dildos, takes place sometime before Mizu hops in the boat, Goodbye Sex, Misery.

About 3.8k word count, so I’ll highlight the beginning of the actual smut in red and a star! *

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Parting Ways— To London You Go

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You despised him.

The Blue Eyed Beast of Japan. The onryo. The bastard half-breed that killed the Four Fangs and cut through the Shindo Dojo. Now that was a man that deserved a dog’s death. A humiliating, painful, wretched thing— so much so that pity would spread like disease among even the most hardened of men. A white man had no business in your country. Much less some impure dog, chasing ghosts of white men who had long since fled the island paradise. You believed this yourself, once. The village gossip and fantasies of his approaching death entertained you, excited you. You’d hear of his dishonorable death one evening and you’d think —‘good riddance’.

But no one told you just how much of a darling he was.

You remembered that night to picture clear, the image of his slumped body in the snow so clear in your eyes and memory. His face was twisted into a pained grimace, eyes screwed shut beneath the colored lenses of his glasses— he reeked of blood even in the snowstorm.

Unbeknownst to your family, you brought him inside, ordered your guards to gently place his body in your quarters. The servants made no protest when they saw your insistence on saving this stranger. The wound was seeping a crimson poison onto your floor, red and hot and stinking of blood.

The two of you were alone when his eyelids fluttered open, pained grunts and whimpered muffled by his own teeth against his bottom lip. And you saw it. Blue eyes— unnatural, wrong, and positively lovely. You’ve seen oceans and ponds and skies with less of a dazzling hue. It disgusted you, initially, as the realization of who he was suddenly and violently appeared in your mind.

You hadn’t expected someone so…normal looking.

He did not have a pig’s nose or clammy, sun-abused skin. He was not a beast, giant and ugly— but a man. An injured man, you recalled once his blood stained your palm. Stained your floor, your bed and his clothes. You distantly realized your hands were moving on their own as they undid the binds of his old kimono, and there, beneath the worn, filthy fabric were binds. Not of injury, not of a warrior— but of shame.

Alone in your chambers on a cold winter night amidst the worst storm you’ve ever seen— you knew. The blue-eyed, vicious animal that had earned all of Kyoto’s scorn was in fact a woman.

You adored her.

Your home grew to be a sanctuary to her of sorts. For a being so well despised by the nation, the comforts you provided were scarce luxuries. A bed. A roof. Some semblance of protection. You cared after her like one would a feral pet, a feat which did not go unnoticed. With a blade to your neck and blood painting her hands, she demanded your silence— a vow to never break. As if you’d risk losing such a treasure to the hands of bounty hunters of white men.

The two of you danced with hate for months.

She was a silent spirit, a brewing storm on the distant horizon. At times, you’d catch her eyes on you, other times, she’d notice you doing the same. At times, you’d reach your hand forward and caress the scars on her skin. At times, she’d allow you to– going so far as to present herself.

At times, you’d make love to her. Your depravity was no secret to anyone with ears and working eyes— but your status and wealth made you untouchable. No one but your servants would hear her cries echo from your chambers, and no one but you would see her in the throes of pleasure, head tossed back, expression screwed into one of hesitant bliss and ecstasy.

Or so you thought.

She often returns to you like a dog would weeks after leaving. Loyal, endearing and silent. Whether it was out of some misplaced desire of courtesy or a genuine attachment, you did not know. You’d tell yourself you did not care, but Man would never be born without sin. Madame Kaji, the wonderful hag, would bewitch you in letters with tales of her ladies in the delights her brothel would offer. She mentioned a certain blue-eyed beast in her company in her most previous message. Her letter was pointed, concise, and utterly enraging. By its contents, you would piece together your Mizu’s night with a princess– of all wretched things. After months of silence, alone in your palace with no one but the one and off prostitutes you’d hire and the servants you paid deftly for their loyalty, and the samurai goes off to bed and abandone a lady princess of the Tokunobu clan.

Mizu would not show her face to you until spring. By then, your anger had solidified and festered into an untamable typhoon. As your servants led her to your chambers, Mizu would be standing dead-center in the eye of your storm. Something in her was different. Stronger, yet weaker. Kinder, yet crueler.

“You show your face here again?” You ask cooly, and at least she had the decency to look ashamed, removing her hat. Like this, you could see her properly. (You’d never admit to your anger cooling, but it did.) She does not harden her voice in your presence, but it is quiet, timid, shameful. Before she could open her mouth to speak, one of your servant men approach, head bowed deeply.

“[Title and Name]”, he’d say. Your eyes glance over to him, humming as you granted permission to speak.

“There is a white man inside, bound and immobilized.” He says quickly, bowing his head deeper.

“I only wished for you to be aware.”

Your cold, steely eyes turn to fix Mizu with a chilling stare. She only looks at you head on, taking the challenge. Oh…

“Leave us.” You say, but not before giving an order to boil water over a fire. The door is smoothly slid shut, and the two of you are under the illusion of solitude once more.

“I am to depart for London soon.” Mizu says bluntly, abruptly. You couldn’t have expected anything less. You give no reaction save for a short sigh and two fingers against your temple.

“I am closer to my mission than ever before. I have an informant, I have a boat, I have names.” She talks as if to explain herself, stepping closer in light footsteps, hesitant. “I may not survive through this. I only wished to say goodbye before I leave.”

For a moment, you say nothing. Your mouth is rendered useless as your mind rushes with curses. To the world, to the white men, to Japan, to Mizu, to the hellsite that was London itself. The poisonous concoction of rage and envy that had been brewing for months was bubbling and prickling beneath your skin– only now with the addition of grief.

“This would have been much more convenient in scripture,” you say, voice like hot iron. Mizu’s surprise is tangible, eyes flickering around your features, searching for answers to her questions.

“I adore letters. You know this.” You begin to say, moving from your initial position and circling the room, retrieving several items and placing them on the large expanse of your sleeping bed. You open a box, massive with weight. Inside is parchment, pounds of it. “I collect them.”

You suddenly and harshly shove the box onto the floor, a flurry of parchment and ink spilling at your feet. Mizu seems to shrink, but refuses to cower. Gingerly, you retrieve one excerpt sent just a few months ago from Madame Kaji. You hand it to Mizu, surrounding her. You wait until you are certain she understands what she is reading before you begin to speak.

“Never took you as the brothel-dwelling type.” You say, watching as those demonic, off-putting, oh-so-lovely eyes scan the characters on paper. Your eyes stick to her lips before you remind yourself why you are angry. You imagined those lips entangled with another, and your blood goes cold.

“Nothing happened between me and the princess.” Mizu says, turning to face you. The genuine confusion in her expression is almost insulting. “She meant to kill me that night. Our duel meant nothing. Madame Kaji knows nothing that is true.”

“Not every conflict between you and a stranger is a duel and Madame Kaji is a dear friend of mine.” You reply easily. The hurt in your voice was becoming clearer with each passing syllable.

“You truly believe sailing the seas will come so easy? Do you know how many men I’ve lost in my trades on those voyages? Do you even know what awaits you in London?” You begin to demand these answers, losing the control you pride yourself in as you continue to speak. As a man and a woman, Mizu was nothing but a stupid, lost soul, wandering the earth without an object to attach to. You then gently cup her face in both hands, watching in delight as she melts into your touch.

*“Do you even know how much I’ve wanted you these past months?”

Mizu cannot answer. Her hands raise over yours, fingers brushing against your warmer ones.

“I meant no harm in my absence.” She concedes, round eyes rising to meet with yours. Just like that, the room had shifted. Your eyes darken as they raked along her face and figure, recalling what lay beneath the layers upon layers of fabric she’d use to protect herself.

“You can’t imagine…” You whine, gently undoing the bandages around her neck to expose the delectable skin that lay beneath. Untouched, unseen by all but few. You bury your nose into the crook of her neck before your tongue darts out just to taste flesh and the blood that pumped beneath. Mizu sighs, noticeably relaxing into you. Her arms move to wrap around your neck in a gentle embrace, a position you’ve grown to love and grieve for.

“Gods, how I’ve missed you…” you say, assisting Mizu’s hands and hurriedly undoing her kimono before your hands run hungrily along her skin. Scars, so many more than you remember. A different rage boiled inside of you, protective and not directed to Mizu in the slightest. The two of you move in sync of tangled limbs and warm breaths against open lips. You push her onto your cot, the rage you had felt previously spilling out in the form of hunger. You attack her neck with the teeth in your mouth, suckling and biting down on her white-man skin until cherry-red marks bloom across her neck. She whimpers, coyly craning her neck and exposing herself further– presenting herself. Begging for it. Gods.

“You were away so long I’d almost forgotten what a whore you are…” you coo, undressing her wholly, spreading her legs around either side of your hips. As a surprise to no one, you noticed the particular shininess to the downy hairs on her wet cunt, groaning softly at the sight. Her smell, her taste, her color– you’d spend innumerable nights recalling these things in exquisite detail, going so far as to seek her in other women and finding not one suitable substitution. Your hunger had been building up for months, and now here she was, just as enticing as you remember her. Her teeth nibble down on her finger as she groans into the air.

“[Reader], I haven’t..” she starts, but you shush her before she can continue. Her loyalty only endeared you to her further, and you wanted to remain somewhat angry.

“I know, puppy. You already know who you belong to, don’t you?” You murmured, practically salivating at the sight of her glistening pussy. A whine catches in her throat, allowing you to see in real time her strength and tenacity fail her beneath you. The demon man was nowhere to be found here. You tamed that spirit and contained her in your chambers. You reduced it from a spirit to a man to a moaning, wanton little tart.

“Keep your legs spread and I’ll give you what you came here for.” You order swiftly, to which she nods and complies, spreading her legs further apart. You eagerly adjust your position so that you are resting on your stomach, Mizu’s thighs on either side of your head and your mouth just above her wet cunt. With only an aroused groan as a warning, your tongue descends onto her slick folds, eagerly lapping up the wetness that coated her lovely skin. It was positively obscene, the color and taste of her, the slurping sounds across the room and her whimpering cries as months of stress and anger fell away under your tongue. The poor thing couldn’t even keep her thighs from squeezing around your head, effectively trapping you against her pussy— but it was no matter. Your tongue swirled and massaged what it could reach while the tip of your nose rutted against her clit. Slowly, surely, readily— her raspy, hoarse voice bloomed into something far sweeter, and you could feel the ice around your heart melting. This was the Mizu you knew, without the clothes and glasses and false identity. This Mizu was the one you owned.

You feel her getting close, as it was always obvious with her. You felt her thighs squeezing around your head, felt them shake and tense while her hips bucked against you and her breathing grew more desperate. You feel it, she feels it— she wants it so bad she sobs into her palm. You both know better.

You pull away with a wet, obscene sound, ignoring Mizu’s frustrated groan into her fist. Your lips and chin are wet with her taste and both of your bodies are shining with sweat.

“What? Were you close?” You ask huskily, readjusting yourself so that your body hovers over hers, your fingers pushing in and out of her gushing warmth. You start with two, massaging her insides into relaxation, molding her to your desires. She impatiently pushes her hips against you, holding you in a desperate embrace. You do not hurry, you don’t even respond as you take her lips in yours, letting her taste herself coating your tongue. It was a messy, depraved display— one that made her noticeably wetter around your fingers. Her nails claw into the fabric over your body, tugging it off.

“Take yours off too…” she says in between breaths, eyes half lidded and watery with want.

“You think you can take it already?” You ask slowly, dead serious. Mizu nods, a slow and deliberate thing. Who are you to argue now?

“It’s bigger than the other one. You sure?” You ask again, making slow, hard motions against her wet clit.

“[Reader]…” she gasps, carrying a note of exasperation, her hands now trembling against you. “Please…!”

You laugh, breathless, exhilarated. Your lips gently press against her forehead, a soft ‘wait here’ and a quick trip to the corner of your bedroom later, you retrieve it.

You commissioned this piece long before you knew Mizu would return. Your very own harigata, hard as a tortoise shell, ribbed and heavy in size and weight. You expressed your desire to be able to attach it to yourself to please your lovers and so the artist complied. You held it up with one hand, allowing Mizu to gauge at the weight and size before stuffing it with warm cotton dipped in the previously boiled water at your side. Mizu hasn’t even noticed the servant come in, far too immersed in watching you align the phallus to her soaking cunt. She feels the heat through the tortoise shell and whimpers, hips trembling before she spreads her legs further apart. The head was already pushing against her hole, oh so ready to slip inside. Just as you mean to push yourself in, Mizu makes a strangled little noise and you cease in your tracks.

“Yes?” You ask, already breathless.

“It’s big…” she says, repeating the words you said earlier. You laugh, endeared.

“Yes. You want it smaller?” You ask again, but she shakes her head no.

She licks her dried lips before she swallows. “Don’t hold back.”

Unable to control yourself, you laugh, head falling beneath your shoulders and against her collarbone. Fuck.

“Tell me when you’re ready.”

You feel her nervousness in the tension of her body. As aroused as she was, it had been some time since she’s seen you. You begin with slow, shallow thrusts to get her accustomed to the feel, not going halfway until you hear her get noticeably impatient.

“Hold on, puppy. I don’t want to hurt you…” you say, but you push yourself in deeper to quiet her whimpers. The ribbed surface rutting in and out of her wet heat had its obvious effects. Her knees shake where they are around your hips and her head arches back as she moans, voice breaking. The harigata was doing everything it was designed to do and more. Mizu was falling apart so beautifully and you weren’t even fully inside.

Slower thrusts, still quick but less shallow, and she moves her arms to wrap around your neck in a tender embrace, holding your back to keep herself present. With you.

Some time passes, and you push yourself in further. You feel some natural resistance, Mizu’s breath hitching. You pause and pull away somewhat to check for her expression, finding her eyes wet with tears dripping down flushed cheeks. Her chest is rising and falling in ragged breaths as she struggles to compose herself long enough to get a sentence out.

“No! No, don’t stop. [Reader], please don’t stop,” she whines, cradling your face. You obliged and continued, though far slower than the pace you were going before. Mizu openly whimpers at this loss before she intertwines her legs around your hips by her ankles, keeping you close.

“Could that princess give you what I can?” You say suddenly, still feeling that burst of envy possess you as you rut your hips forward with a precision that only hours of fantasies and failed attempts to recreate Mizu’s body could give you. A shuddering, wanton moan later, Mizu’s hand flies over her mouth. You take that hand by her wrist and pin it to the floor, still thrusting your hips against hers with purpose and vigor. Not all the way in, not yet. “Well?” You ask. You demand.

“N-no…no she can’t…” Mizu damn near sobs, and possession coils in your gut as you push the harigata to reach new depths. Her moans are pitched and broken, you feel and see her falling apart. The poor thing felt so full, unsure what to even make of the delicious stretch your phallus provided or the hot arousal that being beneath you gave her. To some degree, she was yours, and you both knew it.

Feeling pleased with her state as she answered, you finally and gently push yourself in entirely, making her back arch and moans echo across your chambers like they did so long ago. The harigata’s other end pushes against you, makes you groan at the pressure. You look down at her whorish expression, her inky black hair spread like a halo around her head. You see her flushed skin shining with sweat, you see the tremble in her body and think about how much longer you’ll have to go without it.

“You don’t even know what you do to me…” You begin to ramble without thinking, words flowing like water from your tongue while Mizu moans beneath you.

You can’t help the way your hips begin to plow against hers, you can’t help the strength and ferocity that possesses you when you think of the distance that will be between the two of you. When you think of who she could meet and compare you to. When you think of yourself in the future, in bed, alone, aching for a body that will not be there. You cannot control the desire in your body when your hips move in a way that can only be described as primal, and she takes it all. Mizu has always taken what you give her so well, and it wasn’t long before you were both panting each other’s name against your skins, the room now hot and stuffy and reeking of sex. Her voice reaches a certain pitch, her nails claw into the silken fabric of your kimono, and you can tell she’s closer than ever.

A warm flower of pride bloomed in your chest as you realized that one day, if all went well, you could keep her for yourself. You’d no longer spend the lonely nights in your palace inviting women of the night to give you company. You’d no longer need to bear the crushing loneliness in your bed — not when Mizu’s mission would fail and she’d realize her rightful place at your side. Safe and warm. Protected. Yours.

You imagine fucking her day and night when she returns until she’s sore and trembling, unable to stand without your assistance. The mental image and the emotions it ignites inside of you make you openly and shakily moan in sync with her, and the two of you cum in each other's embrace. She’s damn near bitten through the silk of your kimono by now, drool coating the luxurious fabric. By now, she’s hardly the image of dignified, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

You pull yourself off of her with nothing but a smooth roll of your hips and a near-violent shudder from the body beneath you. By then, it had all blurred together into a hazy memory of warm candlelight, golden skin, and warm, damp towels running along Mizu’s body and freshly fetched water poured into her waiting mouth. You only remember the rest you won for yourself that night, the two of you wrapped in a tangle of limbs and half torn fabric, warm.

But you wake up cold, and you recall why she came by in the first place.

“Would it be too burdensome to stay?” You implore, voice breaking with sleep and heartache. That worn, raggedy kimono is once again wrapped around her figure, her bandages back on. Her very aura is cold and distanced, and the weight of her decision truly settles into your skin.

“We can be happy, you know.” You say, almost pleading but with far too much pride to let it show. “I am in the mountains, far from the city. No white man could find you here,” You can’t being yourself to stand. You watch as her expression morphs from one of sorrow and pity to one of distrust, distaste, and near-resentment. Whether it is directed to you or her father, you cannot be sure.

With her back to you and her voice in the tone of a man’s, she bids you goodbye.

You find that— more than anyone— you want her quest of revenge to fail.

How you despised her.

And oh, how you missed her.

[melkyt]

Law exhausted after losing everything yet again, his quest brought to an end after he tried so hard, its a miracle he and bepo survived, miracle that there are some of his crew that find their way back, they are all survivors but it was to close. He can't take losing them aswell. The ship was a home, but this his family, and they can build another home as long as they are alive.

So he stops on a nameless island, makes it his, a city forms around them. He welcomes any who need it, tells Luffy and other pirates about it, those that are tired of the journey like him

So he becomes surrounded by those that survived and those that also decided to stop, those that support Luffy in his goal, if only in thought after they part ways. Alot of scientists from egghead, others, those too exhausted to go on, or those that just need to take a pause before they keep going. He does not invite the violent or cruel, only those fighting for a better future for their world. Those who respect history and bring him knowledge.

Soon, it spreads that you can go to the island, tell a story that the leader will record, and you will be welcome to a bed, a meal and a safe place. Law settles about learning about the world that way. Sometimes, he travels but prefers the solid shores of his island. Along with the scientists, they work on making an artificial island/ship to survive in the future flooding world.

Years and years spent on this project. He keeps up with Luffy, hears all about him reaching laughtale, smiles when the world explodes with the news that Luffy is the king of the pirates. They have talked over the years when Luffy was sending someone their way.

As well as on occasions when he needed Law to go somewhere where people would need a doctors help. Would need help in the aftermath of Luffy flipping their world upside down. Law always went. He may have put adventure behind him, but he will always help people. He will always come when Luffy calls, just the same as Luffy will always come if Law calls.

Luffy travels for maybe a decade after becoming pirate king, but finds himself stopping more often in Law's city. Staying longer, as they talk about everything Luffy found, talk about what Law has been up to.

There is always a gaggle of kids running around as there are still plenty of orphans on the sea, those that need a home. Those that Luffy brings as he doesn't want anyone to ever go through the same thing as his crew did in their childhoods.

They dont notice when but somehow they adopt two kids, a youngling that reminds Luffy of Ace, down to the freckles, and another that has a smile that reminds Law of the vague memory of his little sister. More reasons for Luffy to stay longer with every visit.

In time, Luffy moves in, training and teaching the next generation of sea-farers how to survive and how to have fun.

It's a peaceful life in their old age. It is the center of the new world and age that came after Luffy became King.

Law is amused and glad that he built a place that even someone like Luffy could consider settling down in, even if the sea will never stop calling him for adventure. This is still home.

One they built together, one they raised children in.

The King of the Pirates and the Doctor who would have been lost to history. Fade into nothing if he had not stopped and looked around. If he did not decide that he wants more to life then constant loss.

[cozage]

The Daughter's Return Part 3

Chapter 25: Decisions

Start From Beginning | Next Chapter | Table of Contents | Read on AO3

Characters: female reader x Portgas D. Ace Word Count: 1.5k

“Do you want to go back?” Ace asked, studying your face. 

“Back where?” You focused on the newspaper in your hand, aware of his watchful eye. 

It had been a few days since Ace had woken up, but you still hadn’t made the call to Marco or the others that you all were safe. He had been making great progress since then-he could sit up almost completely on his own. His back was still heavily wrapped, but most of the tubes and wires were no longer connected to his body anymore. 

“Back home.” You winced at the word, which didn’t go unnoticed by Ace. His voice was softer when he spoke again. “To the Moby Dick.”

You stayed silent, staring intently at the paper in front of you. 

“We don’t have to,” he said, gently laying down on the bed and staring at the ceiling. He groaned at the contact between his back and the sheets, and your eyes reflexively darted over to him at the sound of pain. 

“Luffy’s not awake yet,” you reasoned. You didn’t want to have to make a decision yet. “We can’t leave him.”

“Luffy will be fine on his own.” Ace chewed on his lip, deep in thought. “If we leave before he wakes up, it’d be better.”

You scowled at that. “You can’t mean that. Luffy risked his life to save you! You can’t even stay around long enough to-”

“What if he didn’t save my life, though?” Ace’s dark eyes looked at you, waiting.

You let out a shaky breath. Certainly he wouldn’t be suggesting the same thing you had offered when he was unconscious. There’s no way Ace would want to leave…

“What if we were dead to the world?” His voice was so quiet, you could barely hear him. “We have the chance to start over. To leave everything-”

“What about the people we love? What about our family?” You argued. 

“My family is in this room.”

Your breath caught in your throat. He was right. It had been the three of you for so short of a time, and yet all you wanted was a quiet life with them. 

Still, you found yourself shaking your head in disagreement. “We can’t just leave them.”

“We can.” He reached out and grabbed your hand, giving it a light squeeze. “We will never have this chance again. We have to make a decision. Don’t think about anyone else. What do you want?”

You thought about how peaceful life had been in Wano, when you had established a life, a routine. You had made friends. You never had to look over your shoulder in the market. Nobody knew who you were or what you were capable of. Could you really have that again?

But your life had always been on the high seas. You had never grown bored of island life in Wano, but surely that was only because you had goals. If you were confined to a life on the ground with no end in sight, how would you feel in five years?

“I can’t do that to Marco,” you said. “He can’t lose everyone in one day. That’s not fair.”

“So we tell Marco,” Ace shrugged. “I think he would agree we’d be making the right choice. And he’s not exactly one for gossip.”

“Don’t you think we’d grow to hate it?”

Ace quirked up an eyebrow. “Do you think you would hate it?”

You wouldn’t. He knew that, and so did you. The thought of a place to call your own made you want to weep with joy. It sounded like something you could never achieve, and yet here it was, serving itself up on a silver platter. 

“I’ll go speak to Law.” You rose from your chair, striding to the door. “It sounds like he has a call to make.”

--

A few days later, you were wrapped in Marco’s tight embrace, sobbing into his shirt. 

He had come alone and boarded the metal ship without any weapons, like Law had demanded when he initiated contact via the transponder snail. And they had vanished beneath the waves before Law had led him to your and Ace’s room. 

He had been cussing up a storm and threatening to rip the ship apart before the door opened to reveal the two of you. And then his entire demeanor changed, and the two of you hadn’t stopped holding each other since. 

Ace cleared his throat gently, trying to get your all’s attention. “Marco-”

“How’s the baby?” Marco asked, redirecting his attention. “Is it alright after Marineford? You really shouldn’t have-!”

“He-” you gave him a knowing smile. “-is completely healthy, thanks to the doctor.” You gave another nod of thanks to Law, but Marco’s was more focused on the words you had spoken. 

“He? It’s a boy?”

You gave a tearful nod. “It’s a boy.”

Ace shifted in his bed. “Marco-”

Marco ignored him. “And nothing is wrong? I mean, you used your powers for at least-”

Law stepped in, handing him a folder. “You can read all about it, Phoenix. We’re kind of on a tight schedule here.”

Marco’s brow furrowed. “Schedule? Aren’t I here to pick you up?”

The pain on your face was enough to spread panic across his as he looked between Ace and you. But slowly, miraculously, the panic melted away.

“You’re disappearing, aren’t you?” Marco asked softly, looking at Ace. 

Ace gave a simple nod. 

“We need your help,” you interjected. “We want to offer our protection to an island that Pops protected. In exchange, we just want to live there peacefully. Surely we can make the World Government believe their assassination attempt was successful. They’ve been reporting as if it was.”

Marco nodded as he wiped the tears from his face. He could switch into strategy mode almost as fast as you could. “It shouldn’t be hard to convince the world that the two of you are dead. We’re having a burial for pops in a few days.” Marco glanced at you nervously, but you kept your face blank. 

“You’ll need to take some of our belongings,” you said. “For the graveside. Take anything from my room.”

“My hat,” Ace choked out. “You can take my hat. It’s too much of a distinguishing feature anyway.”

Marco shook his head. “I can’t-”

“You can,” you said sharply, trying to keep your bottom lip from trembling. “We only have one shot at this, Marco. I need to know that you can do this.”

Your uncle let out another shaky breath, but he nodded. “I can do this. For you to live a happy, peaceful life…I’d do anything.”

You handed him a sheet of paper with a list of names. “These people have vivre cards-”

“Most of the cards were destroyed during the war with the ships, but I’ll make sure they’re all disposed of.”

“Keep one,” you whispered softly, your voice threatening to betray you. “In case you need to find us.”

Marco gave a light laugh. “Kind of defeats the purpose of erasing yourselves, doesn’t it?”

But one look at your shining eyes stifled his laughter. “I’ll keep one,” he promised. “Go to the island of Ontau. They’ll accept you. You don’t have to tell them everything, just let them know you were one of Whitebeard’s underlings. It’s far enough in the Grand Line and it’s such a small island that the Marine’s won’t bother you, but it won’t be hard for you two to defend.”

“Marco-” you whispered.

“I have 50,000 berries on me, take them all to start over. It’s not a lot, but you can buy a small cabin and some things for the baby.”

“Marco,” you said a little louder. He was blabbering to prolong his time with you. 

“And make sure you all find a nice place near the ocean. You can fish and live off the land, or get a job in town. Don’t live so far away that you isolate yourself. You need to make friends, both of you-” he gave you a pointed look. “You can trust people there. They’ll have your back when you need help, but you need to ask. Don’t be so prideful that you-”

You lunged toward him, wrapping your arms tight around him. It would be the last time you would see him for a very long time…maybe ever. 

“I don’t want to leave you,” you cried into his chest. 

“You have to.” He brushed your hair out, softly patting the top of your head as if you were still six years old. “You’ll live a better life. That’s all any parent wants, you know.”

“I wouldn’t be who I am without you.”

“You wouldn’t,” he agreed. “But now you can figure out who you are without me.”

You nodded into his chest, but you kept your arms locked around his torso. You needed to remember everything about him. Because if this was the last time…

“Look after each other, okay?” He said. You gave another nod. 

“I swear it,” Ace’s voice came from behind you, and you felt his hand on your shoulder.

You gave Marco one last squeeze and finally broke away from him.

“One last thing,” Marco said, his hand enveloping in blue flames. “Let’s see how much I can heal those pesky burns, Ace.”

Tag list! @taeyoge @teiza @tojislawyer @trafalgardnami @bloopbopsblog @dancingnewcat @dxestyi @flooofity @nyxthedragon01 @deadsnothere @h-rhodes1598  @morgyyyyyyy @trafalgardvivi  @fiestynatureweeb @frogpogjoghurt @beepboopcowboy @ms-portgas @luvyallbabes @appalost @zuchkaa @saybeyonce @stray-npc @kitsunechan707 @theyluvmesblog @heartysworld @aira-needs-sleep  @mothmomjay @ophelias-flowerss @aqualein @sehyojae @fanficwriter5 @forgotten-blues @amberash05 @firefistnoct @depressed-but-make-it-cute @stuckinthewrongworld@lizpoir

[jowrites]

Die for You - Jake Sim & Lee Heeseung Part 1

***Arranged marriage AU x Husband Jake! x Reader, friend Heeseung! x Reader***

TW: cursing, Jake is mean, sexual themes, suggestive themes, SMUT, aggressive sex, toxic Jake, unprotected sex, pregnancy, mental health mentions: depression, suicidal thoughts, emotional cheating(sorta)

Had to break it into two parts because it got long...

WC: 5,180

Jo's Full Masterlist Here Thank you for reading! Enjoy!

Part 2 Here

This wasn’t what he wanted.

Jake has always been a very reasonable man, always doing his duty as heir of his father’s company. When things weren’t going so well with the business, he knew what was going to come of things and where his life was heading. Into a pit of misery for the rest of his life. 

Where he finds himself now saying his “I do’s” to none other the ‘savior’ of his business and to the family he is going to have to kiss ass for the rest of his life. Well, he refuses to be a puppet and even though he’s losing his freedom, he’ll make sure he comes out on top to save his dignity. Or what was left.

Park YN was a very respected girl in the world they lived in. He was now marrying into the richest family who saved his family's business. If his father just did things better then he wouldn’t even have to be in this mess. And why did they agree to let him marry their precious daughter? That, he doesn’t know, but rumor has it she’s always had a crush on him and he made sure to use that to his advantage to secure the deal-and funds- so his family can continue living in their paradise. They owe him now.

Just because he’s now in this arranged marriage, this business deal, doesn’t mean they can control his every being. He will work hard to get his freedom back, to where he can decide for himself again.

*******************

There was no denying things were tense the moment they walked through the door of their newlywed home. YN knew Jake wasn’t happy and she wasn’t forcing this on him, he came to her and somehow convinced her father of this. 

This wasn’t what she wanted.

Jake began to walk away down to the bedroom, him beginning to undo his tie and him stumbling a bit from the alcohol he consumed at the wedding. He turned and looked at her and motioned for her to follow, a frown going on her face.

“Are you coming or not?” he asked.

“W-we have separate rooms, uhm get some rest,” she said and he chuckled, scoffing to himself.

“Let’s get this over with while I’m being nice,” he said and she gasped.

“Are you serious? You want to have sex now ‘while you’re being nice’? So what does that mean exactly?” she asked, anger in her voice.

He rolled his eyes and groaned.

“I didn’t mean it like that, I just meant let’s just do this and get it over with, they’re expecting you to have a baby, no?” he asked, his eyebrow raising.

“We can talk later when you’re more sober, I’m tired. Goodnight,” she said, walking to the otherside of the hallway into a room and closing the door.

What a brat, he thought. He didn’t realize how tired he actually was as well, but the moment he stumbled to the bed and fell on it, everything went black.

When Jake woke up the next day, he had a blazing headache. He groaned to himself as he noticed the light outside and forced himself to sit up in bed. He rubbed his eyes, trying to wake himself from this hell only to remember it wasn’t a nightmare but his reality. His reality. He turned and saw a cup of water and some aspirin on the bedside table, quickly reaching for it and taking some to ease the pounding in his head. He was still in his wedding attire and quickly scurried to the bathroom for a shower. This was going to be a long, agonizing year. 

When he walked out of his room and into the kitchen, he saw YN sitting at the island reading something on her tablet. She was eating a bagel and looked up and smiled at him.

“Do you feel better?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said, going to the fridge and searching for whatever he can find. “About last night, sorry…I didn’t mean to come off as such a dick, I was just tired.”

“Yeah, it’s fine. I get it…and I know what you mean…my mom’s been keeping track of my ovulation cycles,” she said.

“Jesus,” he sighed. “Well, we better get to it then and give them what they want.”

“Jake, you really don’t-” She began but he held his hand up.

“No, it’s my duty as your husband now. And don’t worry, you don’t have to worry about me and any of ‘my hoes’...I took an oath and I plan to keep it,” Jake said. 

“That’s not what I meant but…okay,” YN said. 

“So, should we get started on that picture-perfect family?” Jake turned to her, raising an eyebrow and motioning towards the room.

She bit her lip out of nerves. As much as she understood him, this isn’t what she wanted. But she had a duty now as well, and as much as she hated it she knew better than to go against her parents. She sighed and took his hand and let him lead her to his room. She was trying not to show her true feelings, her sadness and tears. She put on her bravest face and tried to be happy. But deep down, she hated this. She hated a family not based on love.

***********************************

6 Months later

“So how’s the wife doing?” Jay asked, smirking over at his friend.

Jake took a sip of his whiskey, looking at the glass and sighing.

“That bad?” Jay frowned. “You have the most desired woman tied to you now, is it really that bad?”

“It’s fucking weird, Jay, and she’s so nice and it’s so fucking annoying,” Jake said.

“You’re mad because she isn’t a bitch?” Jay raised a brow.

“No, that’s not it but everything just pisses me off. This whole situation, it’s so fucked up,” Jake groaned. 

“Yeah, well it’s the world we live in,” Jay said, taking a sip of his drink. “And didn't you ask her to marry you?”

“Yes, but for my family, it’s business. It’s not like a fucking love her,” Jake said.

“Who don’t you love?” Heeseung came up from behind Jake, patting him on the shoulder, making Jake jump in fright.

“Oh Jesus!” Jake said, clutching his chest. “Dude, a little warning next time.”

“Sorry,” Heeseung smirked as he took a seat between his friends.

“Just Jake complaining about his oh-so perfect wife,” Jay teased.

“How is she?” Heeseung asked, turning his attention towards Jake. 

Jake waved his hand in dismissal, chugging the rest of his whiskey and pouring himself another glass.

“Slow down, that’s your 4th one,” Jay said.

“Whatever, don’t tell me what to do,” Jake said.

Jay and Heeseung gave a look at each other and sighed.

“Is it that bad?” Heeseung asked.

“She’s too nice,” Jay said.

“Yeah, YN is really kind. I thought they’d be getting to know each other better by now and he’d like her by now,” Heeseung said.

“Wait, you know her?” Jake asked.

“Yeah, our families are good partners. Our dads golf together,” Heeseung said.

“What the fuck? Why didn’t we know about this?” Jay asked.

“You never asked,” Heeseung shrugged, taking Jay’s drink and drinking from it.

“Hey, get your own!” Jay said, grabbing the drink back.

“Yours is better,” Heeseung said. “Mmm, delicious!”

“Whatever, she’s a weirdo,” Jake said, drinking more.

It was 3 am when YN woke up from her sleep. She quickly put on a robe and went out to check who was at the door. What greeted her at the door was Heeseung holding up Jake who looked to be in and out of consciousness. 

“YN? Are you awake? We have your husband,” Heeseung said to the camera. 

“Hi, YN, I’m Jay, we met at the wedding,” Jay came into frame, his forehead covering the full camera.

“Dude, shh, you’re so loud!” Heeseung pulled Jay back.

YN opened the door, her eyes wide and a frown on her face.

“What the hell?” she asked.

“Hi,” Heeseung smiled, a blush on his face.

“Oh, look! It’s my wife,” Jake said, slurring his words.

Heeseung and Jay helped carry Jake inside as he stumbled over himself. YN sighed to herself, shaking her head. They carried him through the house to the living room and placed him on the couch. 

“Did you want us to take him to the bedroom?” Heeseung asked, looking at YN.

“No, he can stay there for the night,” YN said, shrugging. 

“Oh, yikes,” Jay said. “But I get it.”

YN glared at Jake as he groaned. 

“Why are you guys so loud?” He slurred. “Oh, YN…good. Here, be a dear hang up my coat.”

Jake began to remove his coat, the boys looking at him appalled.

“Excuse me?” YN asked. 

“That’s not how you speak to your wife,” Jay said, pulling Jake back.

“Shut up, I’ll speak to her how I want,” Jake shoved Jay back and threw his coat at her. 

“Dude,” Heeseung said as he tried to shield the girl from the swing of the coat.

“I’m not your maid, Jake,” YN sighed. “Goodnight, guys. Thanks for bringing him home…”

She smiled at the boys and waved, starting to walk to the kitchen. Heeseung glared at Jake before following YN down to the kitchen.

“Does he always speak to you like that?” Heeseung asked.

“Not always, most times he doesn’t even speak to me at all…unless he wants to get his dick wet,” she chuckled, her fists clenching.

“YN, he doesn’t…” Heeseung asked in a whisper.

“No, not like that. It’s consensual…he’s just not nice about it…” she said, looking down. 

“Are you happy?” He asked, trying to get a look at her face.

“What do you think? I was forced to marry a man who I barely know and doesn’t even like me,” YN looked up at Heeseung. “It’s whatever, this is what people like us do.”

“YN, you didn’t have to do this,” Heeseung said, looking down at her softly.

“It was either Jake or that Yoo kid,” YN said.

“Your father was going to marry you off to Yoo Taeil?” Heeseung gasped and YN nodded.

Yoo Taeil, known for his notorious abuse against women. Everyone knows he’s a psychopath and has probably killed someone before. Not confirmed, but many suspect it and hear it through the rumors. His family has power, and he’s seen as a saint in the public.

“I’m sorry about this, YN…I know it never was what you wanted,” Heeseung said, reaching out for her hand which she pulled away.

“It’s late, you guys should go,” YN said, smiling up at Heeseung. “Thank you, and it was good to see you, Heeseung. Don’t be a stranger, okay?”

“Y-yeah, I’ll come around more often for sure…make sure Jake isn’t being a dick,” Heeseung winked, causing her to giggle. 

She nodded and together the two walked out as Jay was looking around.

“You ready?” Heeseung asked and Jay nodded.

“I’ll see you around, Mrs. Sim,” Jay smiled, waving.

“Bye guys, thanks again!” YN said, walking them out.

When Heeseung and Jay got to the car, Heeseung let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in. His eyes closed as he exhaled slowly.

“You and YN don’t just ‘know each other’, don’t you?” Jay asked his friend.

“Yeah…it’s complicated,” Heeseung said.

“Fuck man!” Jay said, shaking his head.

Heeseung stared out the window, lost in thought the driver drove the two through the city back to their apartments.

It's been 3 days since that night. Jake still ignores YN as if she isn't an existing part of his world. He doesn't even realize it most of the time, but he's getting more distant and distant. YN has found she doesn't think she can stand him as even a friend with the way he has talked to her, dismissive and rude. She wasn't someone who let others walk all over her, but she too didn't like to invite the company of an entitled chaebol. Jake acted like most of them-rude, spoiled, and entitled. She wasn't raised to be that way and so she never took part in many things or had many friends. When she sits and thinks about Jake and his friends, they all seemed nice and she didn't understand why they were friends with Jake. Especially Heeseung. 

Her relationship with Heeseung is positive. Most times in the past, she was able to enjoy his company and share things on her mind and he never judged her. He was a great friend who listened to her and even when she told him she was getting married she had no idea Jake was one of his friends. His best friend to be exact. Heeseung never mentioned Jake and she's now starting to see why. She still feels like she barely knows him, but she has enough experience with him now to have an opinion. She didn't like this. She didn't like this one bit.

“I don't think I like him,” YN said, her eyes fixed on the glass in front of her.

“Who?” her brother, Sunghoon, asked as he placed his fork down.

“My husband,” she said.

“Does he hurt you? Is he cheating already?” Sunghoon asked, his tone serious.

“I honestly don't even know, he said he's not one to cheat and I don't have to worry about that,” she said, sighing. “But I don't even talk to him.”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“He doesn't talk to me…barely looks at me, only if he needs something,” she clarified. “And he's a dick about it.”

“Shit,” Sunghoon sighed, rubbing his face. “I'll tell dad, we can finalize the divorce as soon as possible.”

“No! Sunghoon, don't!” YN said, pleading, reaching out and stopping her brother who picked up his phone.

“YN, I will not have my baby sister be treated like this, not by a friend, family, and especially not by her husband who we let into this family for the mere deal of saving his family's image,” Sunghoon said with venom in his voice.

“I'll handle it, just give me more time…please, I-I need to think,” YN said.

“Think about what? If you're unhappy just say so,” Sunghoon said.

“I'm not. It's just…things are weird and I'm still planning to try…for mom and dad's sake…my sake…I don't want to be that chaebol who gets divorced 6 months into her marriage…” YN said.

Sunghoon sighed. He understands all too well the image this will bring. Not only the public image, but the business can have issues. His father took in a loss at the expense of his daughter. He would hate to be the bad guy here.

“I'm going to make this work, just trust me,” she said, squeezing her brother's hand and smiling at him. 

When YN got home, she was greeted by none other than an empty apartment.  She sighed and set her bags down in the kitchen, removing the items she brought home from their bags and getting to work. She was determined to start over and try to get to know him. Even if he had no interest, maybe she just needed to try. Maybe her absence and uninterest in his world is also a reason why he stays away. Maybe he feels like he's respecting her boundaries. She will just have to try. 

By the time she finished setting the table, she looked at the clock and saw Jake should be arriving soon. One thing she noticed, if he wasn't with Heeseung or Jay, he always came home at 7. Always on time. The dinner she cooked was done, filling their home with the aromas making anyone's stomach excited at the scent. She looked at her table, the food looked delicious and everything looked pretty. She was excited now like a girl on her first date. She made sure she looked extra nice, putting on a little more makeup than usual and a nice dress she just got. She put in effort and hopes Jake could appreciate it and see it so maybe he'd try as well now. That was what she hoped.

By the time she checked her phone, it was past 8. Jake wasn't home yet and she sat at the table waiting. She texted Heeseung and asked if they were together and he said Jake wasn't with him and when she texted Jake he didn't even bother looking at her messages, leaving her unread. Her calls went to voicemail and he just had no clue where he was. She was getting impatient and a part of her felt disappointed at the same time. She was struggling with this and a part of her was hurt. She didn't realize it until this moment, but she was lonely.

She picked up her phone and called the person who she always went to in these types of situations. Someone who always listened to her and brought her joy. Heeseung.

“YN? Are you okay?” He asked through the phone.

“Uhm, yeah, I just wanted to see if you wanted to come over for dinner. We can catch up like old times since it's been a while,” she asked. “I made dinner.”

“Oh, sure. I'd love to. Jake didn't mention anything about dinner,” he said.

“Yeah, Jake isn't even here,” she chuckled.

“Oh…did you fight?” he asked. 

“No, we didn't…he isn't home yet,” YN said.

The line was silent for a while and YN could hear Heeseung sigh. 

“I'll be right over, okay? I'll bring dessert,” he said and she smiled.

“Sounds good. See you soon.”

Heeseung arrived 15 minutes later. She was now in casual clothes, a nice cardigan and some sweatpants as she opened the door. She still managed to take his breath away, a smile coming to his lips. She gave him a full tour of the place, including Jake's room which she quickly let him know he could take anything he wanted. Heeseung chuckled thinking he just might take Jake's stuff and see if he notices. His friend deserves a bit of some punishment if this is how he's been treating his wife. Heeseung didn't get it.

“I just don't understand him, and don't get me wrong, I can read Jake like an open book but this…this is so not like him,” Heeseung exclaimed. 

The two of them sat at the coffee table enjoying some wine and the macaroons Heeseung brought. It was almost 11 now and after a delicious meal they were chatting away on the floor embraced in everything and all that's been going on.

“Yeah well, that's how it's been. And I was going to try tonight but he didn't give me the opportunity to, I guess,” YN said, shrugging. 

“YN, you don't deserve this type of treatment,” Heeseung said. 

“I guess I'm just going to have to keep trying, who knows maybe he's just thinking of my boundaries or something,” she said.

Heeseung knew that was bullshit. Everything Jake has said about this situation and about her has been lies. Jake isn't trying. He doesn't want to try. He just wanted her influence and money. But what could he do? He couldn't just tell her that, especially since she's optimistic about the situation  

“You deserve to be happy too, YN, you know that right?” Heeseung said. 

“Yeah…I know…it's just a weird time right now,” she said. 

“If you're unhappy, you'd tell me, right?” He asked, looking into her eyes for an answer.

No.

“Of course, you're my closest friend, I tell you everything,” she smiled at him, squeezing his knee with her hand.

“Okay, just making sure,” he said, nudging her.

Just then, they heard the door open and close. The light to the front entrance came on and Heeseung and YN watched Jake walk right past them, sighing to himself as he walked down to his room. Not even bothering to glance and look at them, seeing his friend sat with his wife.

“What the fuck?” Heeseung suddenly got up, his blood boiling at what just happened. “Is that what he does every night?”

“Heeseung, just leave it, I'll handle it,” YN said, gripping his pants.

“No. That's bullshit,” Heeseung began to walk towards Jake's room and barged through the door. 

Jake was in the middle of removing his clothes for a shower, turning confused as he saw Heeseung come into his bathroom.

“Dude, what are you doing here? Where did you come from?” Jake asked, covering himself with a towel.

“Heeseung,” YN came in after him, trying to pull Heeseung away.

“YN?” Jake asked, confused.

“You'd see me if you cared to even glance over at our direction,” Heeseung said. “YN invited me over for dinner because someone forgot to come home on time.”

“Since when were you two friends?” Jake asked.

“I told you we've been friends, Jake,” Heeseung said. 

“Alright, good to know. Can I take my shower now?” Jake asked, trying to motion them out of his room. 

“No, Jake this isn't-” Just as Heeseung was talking, YN ran past Jake and to the toilet where she threw up all the contents of her stomach. 

She didn't know what came over her but she suddenly felt sick and needed to vomit. Heeseung gasped and followed suit, coming up and comforting YN and holding up her hair for her as she released everything. Jake rolled his eyes, disgusted by the sight. 

“You better clean that up, I don't want my toilet smelling like puke,” Jake said.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Heeseung yelled, anger in his voice.

Just then, YN stopped and flushed the toilet. Her heart racing and dropping at the same time from Jake's words. She wondered if trying was still on the table, he really was a dick.

“Are you okay? Here let me help,” Heeseung attended to YN, wiping her mouth and helping her to her feet. Jake watched the sight, scoffing to himself and feeling a knot in his stomach. He couldn't stand watching this.

“Just both of you get out, I've had a long day and you made it 10 times worse YN with your vomit,” Jake said, pointing to the door. 

Heeseung glared at him, YN nodding and taking Heeseung and dragging him away.

“We're not done with this conversation,” Heeseung said to Jake, slamming the door behind him. 

Jake stood there. Feeling defeated and much like a dick. He didn’t know what came over him. He doesn't know why he's like this. Why can't he just be nice to her? But seeing her with Heeseung of all people, watching as Heeseung tended to his wife, went and cared for his wife. His blood was boiling and he needed to cool off. He needed his shower.

In the kitchen, YN sat on a stool sipping water as Heeseung stood there with a frown on his face and his arms crossed over his head. Jake was never a person to be like this, he was always kind and down to earth. At least the Jake he knew. Why was he being so mean to YN? Did he hate the situation that much? What was his true motive? YN didn’t deserve this type of treatment and Heeseung was determined to show her more than ever what she was worth. What she truly deserves.

“Are you feeling better?” he asked.

“No,” she chuckled, looking down. Heeseung could see the sadness in her eyes.

“YN, please…do something if you don’t want this. You do not deserve to be treated like that,” he said.

“I’m sure we just have to get to know each other better, plus, you said it yourself how Jake was a decent guy,” she said.

“Why are you so set on making it work?” He said, groaning in frustration.

“My parents were in an arranged marriage, you know? My dad really, really didn’t like my mom. But they grew on each other over time and…they had us out of love,” YN said, a small smile forming on her lips. “So I’m determined to make it work too. For the sake of everyone.”

Heeseung felt soft. He looked at her with understanding eyes and nodded slowly. He came over to her and smiled, giving her a small hug. Any friend would hug their friend in that situation, right?

“You always see the best in situations,” he said. “I always admire that.”

“You have to when you live in this world,” she said.

“I have to go, but please, call me for anything. Just anything and I’ll be here, okay?” He said as YN stood to walk him out.

She nodded and smiled at her friend. She didn’t have many friends, and the small circle she had she was always grateful for.

“Of course, don’t be a stranger, Heeseung. Thanks for keeping me company tonight,” she said as they got to the door.

“It was great catching up, and thanks for that meal. It was delicious,” he said. “I’ll see you soon.”

After Heeseung left, YN was left in the quiet home, again reminding her of the reality of her situation. She sighed and went to the kitchen to finish cleaning up the last things from the night. Just as she finished putting up the rest of the dishes, Jake came out with a towel wrapped around his waist and a towel drying his hair.

“Heeseung’s gone?” he asked, grabbing a water bottle from the fridge.

“Mhm,” she said. “Jake, can we talk?”

“About what?” he asked.

“Everything,” she said. “I don’t want it to be like this.”

“Like what?” he asked, turning around and facing her.

“Like we’re strangers who occasionally sleep together,” she said.

“But aren’t we?” he asked, in a mocking tone. “We aren’t friends.”

YN stared at him in disbelief. So he really didn’t want to work things out. She didn't know why he was being like this.

“YN, you invite another man into our home, my best friend to be exact, and you expect me to be happy about it?” he asked.

Oh. So that’s what this is about? 

“Are you…are you jealous?” she asked.

Jake placed his water down and walked over to her, placing his arms on both sides of her, trapping her between his body and the counter.

“Should I be worried?” he asked. 

“Where were you tonight? Heeseung said you left the office at 6:30,” she said.

“With my parents,” he shrugged. “I meant it when I said I’d be loyal, YN. I expect the same.”

“Jake, Heeseung has been my friend for years now and I don’t have many friends, but he’s one,” YN said. “If it bothers you, just tell me.”

“Why would it bother me?” he asked, his breath on her face as he got closer.

“Exactly, why would it? Like you said, we aren’t friends,” she said.

“Right,” he replied. “I didn’t like how he touched your back.”

“Well, he wouldn’t have if you came over and at least acted concerned,” she said, pushing him back a little, to which he responded by pushing her back and holding her tighter.

“We took an oath, YN. I expect you to respect that. By oath and the rings on our fingers, you’re mine,” he said just as he crashed his lips to hers in a kiss.

There was nothing special about the kiss other than lust and frustration. YN was frustrated but responded and wrapped her arms around his neck as he lifted her up and carried her to the living room. He placed her on the couch and immediately began undressing her. He ripped her clothes off her body with such fever as he nipped at the skin on her neck and collarbones. She laid bare before him as he manhandled her however he pleased, gripping her hips tightly and slamming his length in her core. She gasped, reaching behind her to push him back. Her eyes watering from the sting.

“Jake, slow down,” she said, her lungs on fire as she gasped for air.

“This is what you wanted, right?” He asked, as he relentlessly pounded into her.

There wasn’t much pleasure in this as she still felt the pain of his thrusts. Her eyes watering as he used her body for his pleasure.

“S-slow-” she tried to say as she groaned in pain.

Jake spit on his hand and began to rub her clit, making her body wet as she got used to his thrusts. Soon the pain began to subside as she began to feel pleasure, but deep down it was there and she knew she was going to be sore as the abuse on her cervix was becoming worse. Jake pulled out, and flipped her over on her back before slamming back in. He attached his mouth to her chest as she moaned and laid there. She couldn’t even enjoy it at this point as Jake slammed himself in and out of her, the pain still there.

“It hurts,” she said, tears in her eyes. “Please.”

Jake slowed down, seeing the tears down her face and her uncomfortable expression. They weren’t tears of pleasure, they were tears of pain. He reached up and kissed them away as he slowed his pace and moved at a much more relaxed pace.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he breathed out, she just responded in a nod.

“It’s okay,” she said, her body feeling more relaxed as his pace slowed and her wetness building up. “Keep going.”

He did as she instructed, moving to a better place and much less aggressive. YN could feel the pleasure building and the tightness forming. Jake was chasing his own high as he picked up his pace and together they were moaning and groaning with one another. Jake looked at her face, saw as she arched her back and closed her eyes as her climax hit her. That alone sent him over the edge as he released his seed inside, painting her walls white. Many nights he has claimed her as his, and as he pulled out and saw her there on the couch catching her breath. He could see the bruises he left on her body and the tears on her face. He felt disgusted.

He got up and grabbed a wet washcloth and came back as he cleaned her up. She winced in pain and he winced at himself for causing it. He didn’t care anymore that they were supposed to have a baby. This felt wrong and he didn’t want to do this to her. He couldn’t do this to her anymore, having sex with no passion and thoughts. It wasn’t right and in that moment Jake decided that would be the last time. He wasn’t going to become that man he always hated. He got up and quickly rushed to his room, abandoning the girl. He needed to get away so she couldn’t see him. 

When he closed the door behind him, he broke down. His own sobs came out and he realized just how miserable he really was.

[moniairis]

I love the team ADeuce + Grim and Prefect. They rent free in my head. I mean, I love the 1st year gang in general, but these four have a special space in my heart.

They are such a wholesome team of friends. I've always loved Deuce since day 1, Ace came a little after. But they gained my eternal love and respect after they travelled by public transport to Sage island because they had a "help we're stuck" text. Two 16 years old straight up left their families and home during the FREAKING holiday (the only few weeks they can see family during the school year-) so they could help their two friends by traveling for 2 or more days in public transport. They deserves the world for it (even if calling the police would have been quicker- The feeling are there and well received-)

And don't get me started on Grim because, like I would do to my cat, I would forgive him anything. Like. He doesn't want the tuna because it's not his usual brand ? Yeah you little picky one. You annoy me. You will eat this....okay don't look at me like this, I will get you your usual one tomorrow. Can I pet you ?

For Ace and Grim it's more a kind of love-hate, like you love your annoying sibling. "You are a jerk. But you will fight for me and I will fight for you. And your funny. And sometime cute. Don't smile at me like this-". And Deuce is a sweetheart. I can say a lot but between the chick incident and "I want to make my mom proud of me now-". Boy had his redemption arc before the start of the game, let me be there and support you 🥺

So, all of this to say I love them. They are a wholesome team of friends. And they feel like home. The kind of feeling you only have with close friends. People who will see you at your best and your worst and wants you whatever you are at your best or worst. People who will love your qualities and your flaws, see in you and love things in you you thought everyone would hate. The kind of people you go see to "do homework/help for something. But not long, we have things to do" and screw up things. You ended up talking about all and nothing until night falls and after.

Someone once told me they are friends you make that become your family, a second family you made for yourself and have chosen. I really think that the kind of friendship these four have/will have. They care for each other. Will go save the others/worried to death even if -honestly- the others kinda deseved it (we remember all the Anemom incident, the text of Scarabia without respond without thinking ADeuce would freak out or the "leaving school to save Grim without telling anyone". I mean- They are a chaotic group- They take turn in facepalming and competiting for the 1st place at the most problematic member of the team-). They are like a bunch of siblings facepalming/laughing at the mess another made but who will always be there for each other.

EVERYTHING, just to say I started to write a Shroud family fluff and had the need to write a whole page about a "broom trip" - a road trip with broom of these four during the summer break between their 3th/4th year. Like "come on buddies. We're are freshly adults. And we're going to go on a trip before we're going to be busy with internship/graduation/future." Obviously they ended losing themsleves in unknow woods. Obviously no network. Yes. They did fight a Phantom again. Yes. I have now a new thing to write about the whole trip because it has nothing to do in the Shroud family fluff but it's super fun-

I need to learn how to summarize things and go to the point.

[dukeofdelirium]

This has to quite possibly be the dumbest Anti-Aang I’ve seen on Tumblr. “Aang didn’t go out of his way for anyone”. Like that’s objectively wrong, factually incorrect. Like saying The Earth is flat, you can think it all you want, but it ain’t true. I ask you, I genuinely ask you, how can someone call themselves a fan of this show when they completely misinterpret it and hate the main character this much? This person’s crazy.

Aang never went out of his way for anyone? My god, if this take were true, Zuko would have been dead at the end of season one. Everyone aside from Aang was fine with the idea of allowing Zuko to freeze to death, leaving him to die. Aang was the one that saved him.

Holy shit, the first thing Aang ever offered to do with no expectation of anything in return was to offer Sokka and Katara a ride home before they died themselves stranded in the tundra. He then offered to take Katara to the other side of the world to fulfill her dreams. When he was banished from her village, he left without protest and even said he didn’t want to come between Katara and her family. Even when he was sad to leave because he had just made a first friend in who knows how long (seeing as we know he was ostracized at the temple), he still left.

He then came back not to break the banishment but to save their lives. He offered himself up, LITERALLY sacrificed himself for them, with no expectation of anything in return.

Aang is an extremely compassionate, good natured person. He is the most “altruistic” character in the show, followed only by Katara who comes nearly as close (one of the reasons they are so good together).

He singlehandedly put the fires out on Kyoshi Island that ZUKO SETS, he protects the NWT from invasion in every possible way he can and singlehandedly wipes out their fleet when he gives himself over to the ocean spirit, he demands they search for Bumi NOT because he needs a teacher but because bumi is his FRIEND! He saves everyone in the cave by making sure they don’t get fucking crushed with its collapse, he is willing to sacrifice himself and force himself into the Avatar State to win the war because he is that guilt ridden even when the AS is extremely painful and traumatizing to him, he stops this only when it affects Katara because he loves her, he offers to let Toph run away with them not because he wants to use her as a teacher but because he listened to her life story and wishes to help her feel free, he fucking dies for Katara and sacrificed his own love for her to save her life

he tries to shoulder every burden he feels on his own as a means to protect the other characters

he supports Sokka when he voices insecurities, he is welcoming and friendly to Hakoda and even inquires about how Katara is feeling when he meets Hakoda, he sobs during the eclipse invasion because Katara and Sokka have to be separated from their father again and Aang blames himself for this defeat and is grief stricken because he is so upset they are losing their dad again (and he thinks it’s his fault)

Why the actual fuck would Katara ever “choose” Zuko over Aang?

Katara was never deeply tied to Zuko. She always saw him as an enemy trying to take away the boy she loved. This is why she threatened to fucking kill him.

Zuko helped his sister murder Aang right in front of Katara’s eyes. It was canonically the darkest period of her life.

Katara’s anger and hatred toward Zuko is 100% justified. Of course, Zuko is a self absorbed ass, so he claims her anger isn’t justified and that she’s just projecting. Her anger toward him specifically had far more to do with what he did to Aang and far less to do with what the Fire nation and Zuko’s family did to her mother. Even still, she’s right to be angry about her mother’s murder too, and Zuko’s piece of shit family is responsible.

Why the fuck would Katara magically drop to her knees and suck Zuko’s dick? He’s literally a colonizer for over 2/3 of the show. He didn’t just have a passive role, he was an active player in the war and invaded the NWT with the FN as a means to capture Aang and take him back to his daddy, where Aang would have undoubtedly been tortured mercilessly and kept on the brink of death. He assaulted Katara during this and knocked her unconscious, he taunted her with shitty words and undermined her bending ability and threw some racial/classist remarks as well as some misogynistic ones her way.

When he eventually did get his shit together and join the group, he just used her mother’s death against her and Sokka because that’s all he ever did in regards to Katara and Sokka’s mother. He learned how she died, then had Sokka divulge trauma to then use said trauma to try and force Katara to forgive him by persuading her to go on a suicide mission of revenge and bloodlust. He also literally mocked Aang’s culture and genocided people to his face, when his family committed the genocide. Oh, and he also mocked Aang’s forgiveness despite begging on his damn hands and knees for that very forgiveness like 3 episodes prior.

And then at the end of the episode, Zuko states himself that he legit doesn’t understand Katara or what she needs in life. Cuz of course he doesn’t. He isn’t a survivor of genocide, he hasn’t suffered ethnic cleansing, he isn’t oppressed. For fucks sake, his mother isn’t even dead and he gets reunited with her a few years after the canon shows timeline. Everything Zuko loses, he has returned to him. His honor, his right to the throne, his mother.

But tell me again how Katara and Aang are a bad match when they are the only two who will ever truly understand the other

[queenimmadolla]

hi!! i’m not so sure if you’re still doing pennyverse or not, but you should do one where she’s a teenager doing teenager things! whatever you’d like as the plot :) i love your writing so much

This one hurt ngl, this is how i know I’m not one for kids cause having penny grow up was PAINFUL. Hope you enjoy it, though!

(Dad!Eddie Munson/Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Mom!Reader)

more dad!eddie and penny adventures can be found here.

summary: Your daughter Penny is now a teenager >:| and Eddie is not happy about it. warnings: mentions of recreational drug usage, lil bit of fatherly hurt a/n: the UNBELIEVABLY HOT edit of Eddie was crafted by @eddiemunsons-missingnipple, whose edits have me in a chokehold. perfect depiction of how I see older!eddie in the penny 'verse.

“Hey, mom?”

  “Hmn?” You responded, halting the task of organizing everything for the night ahead.

  “I wanted to ask you something,” Penny stated, nervously fidgeting with her fingers as she approached the kitchen island.

  Her younger brother snickered, not bothering to glance up from his Game Boy—though he fully intended on listening to this play out—as she glared at him.

  You smirked, finger tapping against the box of popcorn you’d been about to open. It was clear from both of their mannerisms, what she wanted to ask would probably garner a no from you. You decided to humor her anyway.

  “Okay,” you nodded, gesturing for her to go on.

  She huffed, fingers reaching up to twirl around one of her curls. In the last couple of years, Penny had obviously grown significantly. She was still a little shorter than you—probably wouldn’t end up ever being taller than you—and while bits of Eddie obviously poked through her features (his eyes, his mouth and expressions), she was looking more and more like you every day. At one point, it had reached an uncanny degree and creeped you out a little. 

  Despite her physical alterations, her personality stayed the same. A big daddy’s girl, with her attitude and mischievous ways matching her father’s, it being the reason why you told her no so often.

  “Can I hang out with Maria and Shanti tonight? There’s this party and─” 

  “Ah, stop right there,” you interrupted, having heard enough to know where this was going. Over the years, the party scene had also changed. Especially since you no longer lived in Hawkins. After Corroded Coffin got picked up 10 years ago, Eddie was always traveling, on tour to open for one famous band or another. Two years after, they’d broken through mainstream heavy metal and shot to the top of the charts, starting their first official tour of their own.

  It had proved surprisingly difficult, being the wife of a rockstar who was always coming and going for work but Eddie hadn’t been about to lose you, always making sure his family came first. Eventually, it just made sense to make the move to Los Angeles—though you only agreed on the basis you’d be moving to one of the more quiet regions, away from all the millionaire mansions. While your home was definitely more than anything you could have dreamed up, it was still rather humble compared to the homes in West Hollywood; exactly what you and Eddie wanted.

  It was still LA, though, and you were wary of the parties thrown in the area. The drug scene here was a whole other ballpark. Keeping Penny away from alcohol and drugs was something you knew, realistically, you wouldn’t be able to do. Encourage her not to drink and do drugs? Sure, and you did. Actively and repeatedly. But you’d been smoking weed at her age and drinking, so you couldn’t be a hypocrite. And you didn’t want to ruin your relationship by being the domineering parent. If she was going to do these things (and, as a parent, you really hoped she wouldn’t) you wanted her to trust you, and know she could come to you about these things rather than having to sleep off a high at a strange home or wait out the alcohol until she was sober enough to see you like you had to do when you were a teenager. 

  Despite your hopes and wishes, Penny was going to be a teenager—whether you liked it or not—but above all, you wanted her to be safe.

  “You know why I don’t like these parties─”

  “Mom!” She groaned, frowning at the way this conversation was going. “You’ve got to trust me, I’m not gonna do anything. I just want to have fun with my friends. Please?”

  Dammit. She used the trust card.

  You sighed, actually mulling it over. You didn’t like it. You really didn’t like it. But you remembered asking your mom something similar once and being denied. Tired of being refused the right to be a teenager despite never being trouble for your parents, you’d snuck out that night and, ironically, considering said track record, almost got in trouble. The cops had gotten involved with the party, you hadn’t been able to drive so you ended up having to walk across town in the middle of the night to make it home.

  You didn’t want her sneaking out. You were about to cave, when suddenly you remembered exactly what you were preparing for when she interrupted you and guilt began to set in.

  “You can go─”

  “YES!”

  “—if you get your dad’s permission.”

  Penny instantly deflated, slumping down onto the island countertop. “Actually, I was hoping you’d talk to him for me.”

  You and Wayne locked eyes and snorted. 

  “Baby, I would do anything for you, but not that. Not today.”

  “What’s not today?” Eddie asked as he leaned against the doorway, scratching at the short hairs of his beard.

  “Yeah, what’s not today?” Came a little voice from his side. Maple was clinging to her daddy’s leg, her little blanket clutched in her free arm.

  Eddie reached down to stroke a palm over her buzzed head (Maple liked to watch King of the Hill with him and when she saw Luanne with no hair, she’d bugged and bugged and bugged until you finally caved and she hadn’t wanted to grow it out since), raising an eyebrow as he waited to be filled in. You and Wayne exchanged glances before you went back to pulling out snacks and he focused back on the game in his hand.

  Penny huffed again before facing her father and tried not to wince, “Dad, I wanted to hang out with my friends tonight.”

  Eddie blinked.

  “But it’s Sunday.”

  “Yeah, we’re on winter break, remember?”

  Oh, he remembered but that wasn’t what he was referring to. “Baby, it’s Sunday. New episode of The Simpsons.”

  It might have been trivial to others, but Eddie enjoyed every single second he got to spend with his family. After Corroded Coffin’s latest tour ended in the fall, Eddie had made sure his schedule was cleared for the rest of the year—save for playing two shows with Metallica, you’d threatened him if he said no to the opportunity of playing with his all time favorite band—for family time. This was a vital piece of it for him. Ever since it started airing, before Corroded Coffin was ever known and when Penny was still in diapers, it became routine to sit down and watch the show together. 

  Penny would always keep track of the time, and five minutes before it was due to start, she’d be tugging him by the hand to the couch and climbing in his lap. You’d snuggle up to his side, and when you’d had Wayne, he’d get comfy in your lap. Whenever Eddie was home from tour, it was the same thing; something that kept him sane and happy.

  And now Penny basically wanted to kill him. Hadn’t growing up been enough for her? She wanted to deprive him of his bonding time, too? 

  “I know,” came her hesitant reply as she lifted her shoulders.

  His heart was breaking. Eddie’s gaze darted from her to you and back. 

  “Did your mom say it was okay?” He knew how you felt about her going out, hopefully you’d already said no and this was one of those ‘let me ask the other parent things’.

  “Yeah.” Penny nodded, glancing over her shoulder at your back as you pretended to not hear every single word. It was like you and Eddie shared a heart, and you could very much feel his pain.

  Eddie stared at her for a couple of moments, stared right into those big beautiful brown eyes of hers, his tongue pressing against his canine tooth. 

  He knows he’s supposed to see Penny, his 15 year old daughter, but he just sees his baby girl; his tiny little toddler in her overalls with her untamable curls going in every direction and remnants of a sticky treat smeared over fat-filled baby cheeks, who always wanted to be around him, be with him. That’s who he sees staring back up at him with wide, innocent eyes. 

  But that’s not her anymore, is it? 

  Eddie blinked, glancing away from her as he cleared his throat and tried to will the moisture from his eyes away even though he knew he’d get high and cry over this later. 

  “Uh, yeah. Sure, baby. You go have fun.”

  “Thank you, daddy!” Penny rushed forward, mindful of Maple as she hugged Eddie. He held onto her for longer than was necessary but she had a feeling this was hard for him, and she still loved it when he held her so she let him.

  Then she’d almost bound out of the kitchen before she whirled around on her heels and ran to hug you from behind, pressing a kiss to your cheek. 

  “Curfew.” You reminded her and she nodded in agreement, not willing to push her luck and moved onto her next target. 

  Penny sunk her hand into Wayne’s curls, shaking his head and laughing as she bobbed away in time to escape his swipe. 

  “Later, knucklehead.”

  “Don’t touch me, beyotch.” 

  “WAYNE!” You and Eddie shouted while Penny just laughed and made a run for the front door before you and Eddie could change your minds.

  “What? I say it to her all the time.” He shrugged and got off the island stool, making his way to the living room so you couldn’t yell at him. Wayne had grown over the years, too. 

  While he had started off looking like an exact replica of Penny, his features had changed a bit. He still resembled you quite a bit but he had his dad’s nose, eyes, chin and dimple, making the similarities nearly uncanny. Unlike his dad (though Eddie had recently cut his mane), Wayne liked to keep his hair short but was alike to Penny as he also had his dad’s personality and attitude, and then some. 

  Wayne had been diagnosed with autism in the past—had nothing to do with the circumstances of his birth—and while you’d been briefly concerned about how to raise him, it was clear he’d be just fine in life, he really only interacted with the world differently than others, lacked a filter but he was still a sweetheart. To anyone except his sisters, anyways but it was always playful. On multiple occasions you’d caught them all conked out together in the living room or each other's rooms. 

  Maple detached herself from Eddie to follow him and you listened to their commentary.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Why?”

  “Because.”

  “Because why?”

  “Oh my god, Maple.”

  “Is it because you’re autistic?”

  “No, it’s not because—maybe it is, I don’t know, just—shush.”

  You rolled your eyes and abandoned your task again in favor of comforting Eddie. He sagged into you as your arms curled around his waist.

  “Honey, I’m gonna need a bowl to survive tonight.”

  “I’ll pack you one,” you cooed, pressing a kiss to his pouty lips. “I know that must have been very hard for you.”

  “The other two are gonna finish me off if they try to grow up.”

  Almost an hour and a half later, in the midst of the episode, you got up to get a refill of popcorn and encountered Penny as she walked through the front door.

  You hadn’t been expecting her back for at least another two hours. 

  “Hey, baby.” You approached her with a gentle tone, mom senses tingling. Penny looked nervous.

  You were about to ask her what was wrong when she blurted out, “I got high, mom.”

  Okay, you hadn’t been expecting that so you tried to school your shock. “Oh.”

  “They were passing around a bong and I took a hit and I just wanted to come home.”

  “Okay.” You could tell it was her first experience with it, thank fuck, and while you weren’t pleased she’d done it, you were happy she’d come back home when she was obviously freaking out and where she’d be able to sober up in a safe setting. “Why don’t you go upstairs and get into your pajamas? The episode is still going on, you can curl up on the couch with us if you want.”

  She looked relieved and nodded before running upstairs to her room. 

  By the time you’d made more popcorn and returned to the den, Penny was back downstairs, in her PJs, and curled into Eddie’s free side, the side she’d always occupied. While Eddie had gotten over the majority of his blues by the time The Simpsons started, you could tell he was still a little sad. 

  Now, there wasn’t a trace of the emotion on his face, he looked perfectly content and happy as he beckoned you over to his other side, your spot and you went willingly. 

  Eddie pressed a kiss to your head as you resettled yourself, and relaxed further into the comfortable couch. The family of yellow cartoon characters held his attention for just a moment before his eyes did one last sweep.

  Despite the open recliner and their bickering, Wayne and Maple—heads barely visible with all the blankets they were hogging—shared the love seat.

  Penny looked relaxed—she seemed anxious when she’d come in to the den to join them and surprised the fuck out of Eddie—eyelids drooping as she cuddled right up to him.

  Then his eyes fell on you. The lights from the television danced over your face, the perfect picture of peace as you rested your head on his shoulder, hand over his chest. Eddie wanted to kiss you so bad. 

  You always said that your shared life was Eddie’s doing but he knew the truth. You’d given him all of this. 

  For some strange reason, one he was very thankful for, you wanted him out of everyone in Hawkins. You’d married him, a loser who took three fucking years to graduate high school. You’d given him one child, then another and still encouraged him to pursue his dreams. He honestly hadn’t expected to play anywhere but in state. And when his band blew up, you still stayed by his side and gave him another baby. It wasn’t easy, he remembers the fights, the tears and every single trial thrown your way but the two of you had made it out on top with your family intact and stronger than ever.

  Homer’s yelp of pain followed by his family’s laughter brought Eddie out of his contemplation and he joined in.

  Yeah, this was the life. 

[queercontrarian]

Azris Week 2024: Contact

Azriel and Eris are not quite as overt in showing their affection as Azriel's family is. You might not even know it's there... unless you know where to look.

this summary is shit also let's all just pretend i posted this on the right day okay? thank you

@azrisweek

“I’m getting old,” Cassian groans, letting his heavy body drop onto the bench with a crack that doesn’t bode well for the structure of the piece. After all, the birchin is almost as old as Cassian is now. 

“Must be the constant losing because I feel great,” Azriel lies through his teeth as he sits, much more careful than his brother to not damage the old furniture more. He does feel great; winning always feels good, especially when it’s their traditional snowball fight and even more so when it’s his fourth year in a row. Still, he too can feel the years bearing on his bones and joints, especially now that he doesn’t spend nearly as much time training his body as he used to when he was still Spymaster of the Night Court.

“The only reason you can keep up your winning streak is because you don’t have any children to run after,” Rhys complains, stretching his leg out in front of him to gently massage his knee. ”You have no idea what real tiredness is until you’ve chased a nearly eighteen year old across all seven Courts trying to keep him from causing the whole continent to blow up.”

Azriel snorts. “Actually, I do know a thing or two about how that feels.”

“Oh fuck you, I was never that bad,” Rhys replies, but it has no real bite. He leans back and closes his eyes. Azriel shrugs, which Rhys can’t see now but might just feel through some brotherly intuition or simply the fact that they’ve known each other for nearly their entire lives.

“And anyways, it can’t be that hard,” Azriel adds, “You love your children, that’s why you had them. That’s why you continue to have them.” He shoots a pointed look at Cassian. He and Nesta just welcomed another two children into their home: twins, no more than ten years old, both from the far islands which crown the north of Illyria. That makes for five kids that his friends have adopted so far. Luckily, the House of Wind has enough room for all the youths they invite to join their family, and Nyx and Jasmin both go nearly green with envy since Noura is the only cousin with siblings. That is, until Elain gives birth again, which won’t be for a couple months now.

“True that,” Cassian mumbles, eloquent as ever as he too leans back against the wall. “Why don’t you have children anyway?” 

Azriel just stares at him, trying to decipher what it is his brother is really asking. It's not exactly like having a child is something that could just happen to him and Eris like it did for Rhys and Feyre. He knows of course that Eris will be expected to produce an heir some day, but it’s been barely fifteen years since he became High Lord. They still have time, time to figure out how they will construct this future family of theirs, time to be a family of just two. Azriel isn’t ready to share his husband with another soul yet when he already shares him with an entire Court, but that feels like too earnest of a thing to say here and now. It’s not that he thinks his brothers wouldn’t understand, he just doesn’t want to bring it up yet.

“It’s not like we don’t try,” he says finally with a sideways grin on his face, waiting for Cassian to look at him again. “We try so hard, you know, every night, but it just doesn't seem to be happening for us.” Cassian cackles and then coughs as he breathes in the hot air of the birchin, enriched with a thousand healing herbs - at least that’s what it smells like. 

“I’m sure you do,” he rasps through coughing and Rhysand smirks too, though Azriel doesn’t know if it is at the joke he made or Cassian’s face, which has taken on the color of pickled beetroot. 

“You’d never know,” he says, and Azriel just gives a noncommittal hum.

“Right?” Cassian agrees, his voice still rough though he’s stopped coughing for now. “I mean, you’d never know if you just saw you guys.” 

Azriel frowns. “What is that supposed to mean?” 

“Just, you know. You don't really act like a couple. I mean, compare that to me and Nesta or Rhys and Feyre; they’re all over each other.” 

Azriel has half the mind to turn his back to them to show them the clear proof that Eris, too, is all over him more often than not, and likes to leave his mark, thank you very much, but that feels childish. The truth is they don’t act like the other couples in the Inner Circle. That doesn’t mean they love each other any less.

“What, just because we don’t fondle each other in the presence of others?” Azriel responds, unable to suppress the slight defensiveness, his inner walls shutting down almost automatically. He knows his brothers mean no harm, but it still feels like a challenge. Eris and him are just much more private people than his brothers and their partners.

“Yeah but there’s private and then there’s whatever you guys have,” Rhys voices his opinion from the bench across the room. Azriel barely has time to admonish him for reading his mind without asking - which is something he promised he wouldn’t do anymore when Azriel became Lord Consort of Autumn, but old habits seem to be hard to break - when Cassian adds, “It’s not like it’s bad or anything. It’s just different from what we’re used to.”

“I suppose,” Azriel says. He’s not trying to spend the limited time he and his brothers have nowadays bickering - even though they are of course dead wrong…

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

▪︎

There is no way they will be able to talk to all these people tonight but Eris seems to be hellbent on trying, and if the High Lord is convinced of something it is harder to change his mind than to go along with it. Azriel has always been the type to choose the path of least resistance. Eris's hand is firm on his back as he leads him through the crowd of fae gathered in the throne room. He can feel Eris’s heartbeat, reverberating through their bond. It rarely feels stronger than when they are next to each other.

He’s been standing on the balcony for a while when Eris finally joins him. His wings are practically being baked in the hot sun of the Day Court but it’s still bearable. Better than being inside anyways.

“Taking a break, are we?” Eris says with a smile. Azriel just rolls his eyes.

“Didn’t really want to stick around to watch my family stick their tongues down their partners’ throats,” he grunts, and Eris laughs.

“The topics of conversations have changed quite drastically since this morning,” he admits, and that’s putting it lightly. The official visit that had been scheduled for diplomacy reasons has been derailed entirely. Now it seems more like they were only moments away from an orgy taking over the room.

“Just… stay with me for a little while,” Azriel asks, with more vulnerability in his voice than he would usually allow himself. It’s hot, he’s tired, he feels a little overwhelmed. He shifts slightly to his left so Eris can lean against the railing next to him. Their arms brush against each other and Eris reaches for his hand, locks their fingers together. 

They watch from the sidelines as the courtiers inside bicker and flirt and debate and disappear off into their own little corners away from prying eyes until Helion finally calls them to order (“So unlike him,” Azriel mutters and Eris grins). 

Minutes turn into an hour and the afternoon sun sinks further into a beautiful sunset. Finally Eris separates himself from the railing and makes a step back towards the hall. He turns to look at Azriel, their hands still joined between them.

“Ready to go back in there, Shadowsinger?” 

Azriel raises their hands to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to the back of Eris’s hand.

“Yes.”

▪︎

Azriel never thought listening to two brothers argue could be calming, but with Sasha and Bas bickering on the couch opposite him he feels like he could fall asleep at any moment. Then again maybe it’s not the heated discussion about grain import but the friendly fire that the Lady Vanserra had lit in the family’s private drawing room, the dog snoring at his feet, the sound of the wind outside the stained glass windows. Maybe it’s Eris’s hand, curled at the back of his neck, playing absentmindedly with his hair.

Azriel sighs and leans in closer, Eris’s low chuckle a familiar and comforting melody in his ear.

▪︎

People have slowly been filing out of the great ballroom for the past two hours. Personally, Azriel is elated. He does not mind balls, in fact there are two very good arguments why he should enjoy them a lot more than he does - those arguments being that usually, he gets to see his half of the family, and he gets to see Eris even more dressed up than he is on the day to day. Still, he likely won’t ever get used to being the host, and he is very glad that at least for now it is over. There is only one more breakfast to get through tomorrow before the last of their guests leave and he will only have to share his husband with one Court instead of all seven of them. 

“There you are.” Speak of the devil. “Ready for this to end?” Eris’s smile is slightly lopsided, and the way he holds his shoulders betrays his exhaustion, but he looks happy and it instantly lifts Azriel’s mood as well. When he turns to fully face his husband he can’t help but reach out to smooth down the spangles on his coat, which still looks practically impeccable. He knows it would bother Eris though, if he noticed it. 

The male places his hand over Azriel’s own and pulls him closer by his arm until they are standing only a few inches apart. 

“Dance with me,” Eris says, the look in his eyes so earnest that it feels impossible to deny him anything.

“Here?” Azriel asks weakly, his resolve already crumbling before he can even try to say no.

“Yes. Here, now.” 

“Alright.” 

There’s barely anyone in the hall now anyway, and even if there were a thousand guests still around them it wouldn’t matter; all Azriel can see is Eris.

▪︎

Azriel feels like they've been sitting here for hours, listening to Helion drone on and on about regulations in the creation of new subsections of the principal disciplines of magic. Eris at least manages to pretend to show interest, but Azriel is pretty sure that it's very evident on his face that he wants nothing more than to take another break from this meeting, or better yet, leave it be for today and return back to their room. 

He is distracted again when Eris moves his hand to rest between them on the narrow wooden armrest of his throne. He watches, mesmerized by the way his husband's many rings glint in the sunlight as he begins tapping his fingers against the armrest.

Tap tap tap. A signal?

Azriel glances up at Eris, who is still following the debate that has now started between Helion and Kallias, but his expression is a bit too fixed to be natural.

Tap tap, Eris's pointer finger sounds softly against the wood. Slowly, Azriel places his own hand next to Eris's, eyes tracking every movement his husband makes, watching as his mate extends his pinky finger until it rests against Azriel's own scarred hands. Slowly, so slowly, their fingers entwine, Eris’s rings scraping against his skin. When Azriel looks up, Eris is still staring straight ahead, a slight smile on his lips.

▪︎

The House of Wind is as crowded as ever on Starfall, but Azriel can barely hear his family cheering for the spirits as they travel across the sky, nor can he hear the music or the noise of the party. He’s too wrapped up in his mate, standing as close to him as he possibly can to take in his warmth, his scent, his quiet words even as the world around them seems to get only louder.

Under the light of a thousand stars, of spirits and candles and magic sparks Azriel leans in closer to wrap his arms around his mate just as Eris turns to kiss him.

Eris doesn’t say a word when Azriel slumps onto the couch next to him. He only moves his leg a little so he can fit comfortably, shifting his book from one hand to the other. Azriel sighs, his head rolling back as his muscles slowly relax from the long day. Eris’s thigh is leaned against his, with no pressure but a warm, comforting presence that makes him melt deeper into the couch. 

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

The trip from Night to Autumn is an arduous one, even more taxing in the winter months when it's cold and wet and generally unpleasant to be flying in the Solar Courts. He wants nothing more now than to simply curl up here with Eris, not talking, not moving, just listening to the rain patter outside their window, the fire crackling and the sound of Eris’s breathing. He sighs, his shoulders slowly relaxing as he lets the day pass by again in memory, from the early morning snowball fight to Solstice dinner, which had dragged on forever. He loves and misses his family, even more so now that they live so far apart, but his longing for Eris, for home, always wins out. 

Azriel stretches his tired body out across the whole sofa with a sigh, feet hanging off one end as he reaches for one of the pillows to rest his head in Eris’s lap. Eris helps him maneuver his wings into a more comfortable position and Azriel can hardly hide his groan of relief when all the weight is finally taken off of his back and he can feel fully at ease. Eris’s fingers get tangled in his hair as he starts to gently massage the back of his neck and his head with one hand and Azriel can feel his mate’s pulse against his ear, on his lips, across the bond, like the steady beat of his own heart.

“How was your trip?” Eris asks finally, though he still doesn’t look up from his book. 

I’m getting old, Azriel thinks, I missed you. They are so wrong about us.

“I love you.”

Eris smiles.

[surftrips]

butterflies — part one.

pairing: rafe cameron x female reader

summary: after returning home from college for the summer, y/n runs into rafe cameron and the two form an unlikely relationship.

word count: 1582

a/n: part one of my new series inspired by "butterflies" by kacey musgraves. friends to lovers trope! masterlist.

It had been a few months since your first college relationship ended.

It was summer now. You were back home, content with where you were, just coasting through life.

You spent your time with friends and family, at bonfire parties and backyard barbecues. You may have been single, but you certainly weren't lonely.

Besides, your ex was kinda... shitty, for lack of a better word. Instead of lifting you up, he was always holding you back. You felt as though you were suffocating towards the end, and finally you couldn't take it anymore so you broke up with him.

With all this newfound free time, you had taken to spending more time outdoors. Surfing, biking, or simply going for a walk, it felt nice to feel the fresh air and freedom on your skin.

One day you were going for a run in your neighborhood, when you felt someone else jogging up behind you.

"Hey! Wait up!" they said.

You turned around, ready to defend yourself, but to your surprise, it was none other than Rafe Cameron who had called you.

"Rafe?"

"Hey, uh...Y/N right?" he responded, looking unsure.

"Yeah, how'd you know?"

"Come on, I know everyone on this side of the island."

It was true. His family was by far the most affluent on the island and had the most connections. You wouldn't be surprised if his parents knew yours through their work.

Still, you felt the need to push back. "Is that so? Where do I go to college then?"

"Oh, easy. Everyone knows you go to Duke."

Now, you were surprised. Was Rafe Cameron keeping tabs on you?

He must have noticed your shocked face because he said, "Okay, by 'everyone,' I mean me. I know you go to Duke because I applied and got waitlisted."

"Ah, now there's the Rafe Cameron I know. Only cares about stuff when it involves him."

Were you being a little harsh? Yes. But Rafe Cameron had been the most popular guy in high school, he could handle a little teasing from you.

"Okay, ouch. Do you even know where I go to college?" he responded.

"Easy," you mocked him. "UNC Chapel Hill."

"Y/N Y/L/N, I didn't take you as a Rafe Cameron fan," he feigned surprise.

"Oh please, I only know because it's where all the frat boys go."

"Alright, fair enough. But I'll have you know I am so much more than just a frat boy."

"Yeah? Prove it." You don't know what possessed you to be talking to him like this, but hey, it was summer. What did you have to lose?

"How do you want me to do that?"

Yeah, how did you want him to do that? you thought to yourself.

"You're smart. I'm free the whole summer, figure it out," you settled on saying.

He seemed to think about it for a second. Finally, he responded, "Why do you think I called you earlier?"

It dawned on you that you had no idea. Sure, you two went to high school together but you hung out in entirely different circles and up until a few minutes ago, you weren't even sure that he knew who you were.

"I don't know, why?" you asked, almost nervously.

"I heard about your breakup. I wanted to see if you were okay."

"That's bullshit. I've only told my best friends about that." You knew that word traveled fast on the island, so you made sure to only tell people you trusted. How the hell did Rafe Cameron of all people find out?

"Well, you may not know this but all the college kids in North Carolina are connected in one way or another. One of my frat brothers is actually friends with your ex..." he trailed off, not sure how you would react to this.

For once, you were speechless. It really was a small world.

"Tell your brother his friend is an asshole," you finally managed.

He chuckled, relieved that you weren't angry or anything. He didn't know the full details of the breakup, but it definitely wasn't amicable.

"Sure, I'll pass the word along. But, yeah, I seriously did want to check on you," he said.

After a while, he added, "I'm getting over a breakup myself, actually."

"Oh. Sorry, I didn't know."

"It's alright," he said. And then, "Have some faith in me, I'm not a bad guy."

This was technically true. Even though he was the typical popular, rich guy in high school, he was definitely one of the better ones. He never bullied anyone and mostly kept to his circle of friends. However, you just couldn't wrap your head around the idea of someone who never acknowledged you during high school caring about you now. What had changed?

Guess you had the whole summer to find out.

—

After that day, Rafe somehow convinced you to hang out with him more. You weren't sure what his motives were, whether he had any aside from trying to prove to you he was "more than just a frat boy."

The first time he took you to a coffee shop, a local one in downtown Kildare.

"I didn't know you drank coffee like that," you remarked.

"Well, there's a lot you don't know about me," he had responded.

As he took a sip of his drink, you used this opportunity to get a better look at him. You were too shy to make direct eye contact with him, worried that his bright blue eyes would cause blood to involuntarily rush to your cheeks.

He had changed since high school. His shoulders had somehow gotten even broader, his hair was now buzzed down, had he gotten taller?

Suddenly, you wondered what his ex-girlfriend was like. Was she outgoing or shy? Did she go out every night or stay in her dorm? What did she study? In other words, was she like you or the total opposite?

You shook your head, what did it matter to you anyway? You never really liked him in high school, and he seemed all the same now.

(Just a little better looking, somehow.)

—

Weeks later, nothing and everything had changed. You two had been on...

morning runs (or walks, if you guys were hungover from the night before)

grocery store trips after deciding you would show Rafe how to make your pasta recipe

errands runs where you tagged along in Rafe's passenger seat

spontaneous surf trips at the local beach

and of course, late nights spent around a fire as you two reminisced about how different your high school experiences were

Your initial hesitation about spending time with Rafe had waned. You figured that as long as you were having fun, there was no harm being done.

You learned that a lot of Rafe's college friends lived out-of-state and he hadn't been with anyone since his own breakup so he was pretty lonely at home until you showed up.

"Y/N, if I had a girlfriend don't you think I would be with her right now?"

"I don't know! Maybe she lives halfway across the country or is being locked up in a tower somewhere and that's why you can't see her!"

"Can you even hear yourself right now? Who do you think I'm dating, Rapunzel??"

Okay, so he was single. And he was spending nearly everyday with you. As a friend, of course. He just needed someone to keep him company. These are all things you reminded yourself.

You didn't even let yourself consider the possibility that there could be more to your sudden friendship.

—

Your steadfast attitude about your friendship wavered when you were over at his house one day.

You had been there a few times already, but when you knocked on the door this time, his sister Sarah opened it.

Sarah was a few years younger than you two, and was still in high school. Like with her brother, your paths had never really crossed.

"Oh, hey Sarah. Sorry, I was expecting Rafe," you said.

She smiled at you, "No worries, you must be Y/N?"

"Yeah, is he back there?"

Sarah moved out of the way you let you in. "Rafe! Your girlfriend's here!"

"Oh, no-" you started to correct her as Rafe appeared from the kitchen.

"Sarah, she's not my girlfriend," he said.

"Well, you certainly act like a couple," she responded before leaving you two alone.

"Sorry about that," Rafe said when she was out of the room.

"No, it's okay. I've been called worse," you joked.

"Yeah, whatever," he smiled. "The kitchen's all set for us to make lunch, you ready?"

Though you tried not to think about it, Sarah's words echoed in your mind for the rest of the day.

What were you two doing? Clearly, you were both using each other as a distraction, maybe not physically but definitely emotionally. You had both just gotten out of relationships and were looking to fill that void.

On the other hand, you had grown to genuinely like Rafe. It would not have been the worst thing in the world to be his girlfriend. In fact, later that night as you were lying in bed, you toyed with that idea.

"Hey, everyone. This is Y/N, my girlfriend," he would say, strong arms wrapped around your frame.

"Hi, I'm Y/n! Rafe's girlfriend," you would say while meeting his college friends.

Well, shit. You had fallen for Rafe Cameron and he had no idea.