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nocasdatsgay · 2 days ago

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A Lesson in Heartbreak

2 of 3: Words are Painful Weapons

Rating: T | Word Count: 3983 | Pairing: Azris/Reader

Summary: Eris and Azriel made promises they didn’t keep. When you confront them about it, Eris says some things he instantly regrets. Now him and Azriel have to fix what they broke.

Neapolitan Bonds Masterlist| Read on A03| Part 1| Read Below

Warnings: Angst, Eris has a sharp tongue, alcohol, drunk!Eris

A/N: HI so… yeah… I am alive. Sorry this took so long. A second shout out to @daycourtofficial for inspiration with Azriel and his comments when he comes back.

Tagging: @myromanempiree @pit-and-the-pen @lilah-asteria @thisblogisaboutabook @hieragalbatorixdottir @mybestfriendmademe @paleidiot @div94 (if you are tagged by accident or want to be tagged in the future, let me know)

“There. A letter to Tarquin and a letter to her.” Eris sent them with a flick of his wrist.

Azriel calmed enough to sit while Eris penned the letters. They needed you to come home so they could talk with you in person. Deep down, Eris was thoroughly embarrassed over the whole situation. Not only at himself but for you leaving to another court. He wondered if this was how Tamlin felt all those years ago, when Feyre ran off to the Night Court. Eris suddenly had empathy for him in retrospect.

He slumped back in his chair and sighed. He needed a stiff drink. But he wanted to be sober if you came home. Azriel sat across from him, arms crossed against his chest and brows furrowed like he did when he was deep in thought. His eyes were still rimmed in red from earlier. The Shadows were nowhere in sight.

“What?” Eris looked at his mate.

Az cut his eyes to Eris, still frowning. “I want you to tell me exactly what you said to her.”

“I’m surprised your shadows didn’t already tell you.” Eris didn’t hold back his eye roll or his sigh. “I don’t fully remember.”

Everything was a blur from earlier. When he got like that, he never remembered what he said.

“Well think fucking harder.” Eris could see Azriel’s fingers dig into his sleeves.

“She came in screaming at me about missing dinner.” It reminded him too much of his mother. The way she would yell at his father when he was a youngling. Eris tried to focus, to put that aside. “I told her the high lord meeting was more important. We were hosting, and.”

After a moment Az said, “And what, Eris”

He cursed under his breath. “I said she would understand that if she had bothered to help. Since she isn’t helping, she doesn't get to complain that we are busy. She knew what she was getting into when we mated.”

Azriel recoiled where he sat. “How could you say that to her?”

“It’s the truth, Azriel.” Eris brushed back his hair with his hand. “This is what it’s like to be mated to a High Lord. We have responsibilities. Yes, I was wrong for implying she didn’t want to help because she asked and I told her she didn’t have to. I admit that.”

Shadows came out as Az replied. “And we made promises we didn’t keep.”

“I know I did. It eats me alive that I broke them but what else am I supposed to do? It’s our first time hosting, I’ve only been High Lord for a decade and a half. She’s worked for multiple courts. She knows these things have to be perfect or others will talk.”

“That doesn’t mean we can’t take a break to have dinner with her.” Az countered.

Eris glared at him. “Do not act like you are any better. You weren’t there either.”

He winced. “You’re right. I wasn’t.” Then he glared back. “But maybe I would have been there if you let other people do their job instead of making it our problem.”

“Oh you’re going to blame me?” Eris was on his feet. “By the gods. I’m always your scapegoat because it’s easy to blame me than for you to look in a fucking mirror.”

“Eris.” A warning, as shadows built around him.

“Am I wrong?” Azriel didn’t answer. Eris and his sharp tongue kept going. “You blamed me for centuries when it came to Mor. To this court. To my father. Let’s just add this to it.” He paused. Before he could stop himself he added. “It wouldn’t even be a fucking issue if it was just us.”

Eris felt the shock through the bond from Az before he shut him out. Even the shadows recoiled from around Az.

“What are you saying?”

“I don’t have to repeat myself. We work well together,” he gestured between them, “because we know what to expect from each other. She wants so much more than either of us are capable of.”

Shadows shrunk back again. “That’s not true.”

“It is!” Then words spewed from his mouth like viper venom. “I wish Elain never told us. I wish I never let you get your fucking hopes up, looking for a third bond in every fucking fae you brought to our bed. But I love you, so I let you do it.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Azriel was on his own feet, siphons on his hands flashing. “I always got your consent, you said it was fine. You brought your own-”

Eris’s mouth ran away from him again. He didn’t raise his voice; his tone did the work for him.

“Maybe I lied. I only took other lovers so you wouldn’t feel guilty. I was just trying to make you happy because I was never enough for you. Even the Mother herself knew. She knew I wasn’t enough for you so she sent us her.”

Az looked like he’d been struck. Guilt and insecurity Eris had buried for decades laid out on full display. At that moment Eris hoped Azriel hurt just as much as he did. The silence between them was heavy and loud. It was finally Azriel who spoke, his own words sharp and stinging.

“I never asked to be mated to you. You say this is easier for me and you, but it’s only easy for you. What’s easy is loving her. It’s not my fault you’re too fucked up to know that too.”

Shadows grew thick around him and he winnowed out of the room.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

You showered and changed into a soft seafoam colored nightgown, given to you by Samira. She was sitting by a small side table reading when you came back into the bedroom. She set her book down and got up from her seat.

“Did you tell him, Tarquin?” You asked.

In your haste to get away, you didn’t think about the implications of your actions. Namely as High Lord’s mate seeking refuge in another court. You liked Tarquin a lot. He was kind and you were so happy when Samira and him hit it off. But he was still a High Lord of another court. Samira didn’t look you in the eyes from where she had sat on the edge of the bed.

“I only told him what you told me.”

“That’s fine,” you said quickly. You got onto the bed and crawled up beside her. “I understand. If you hadn’t told him, I would have.”

“That said,” she put her hand over yours. “You’re here as my guest. Any correspondence will come directly to me unless there is a threat to the court.”

You winced and she gave you a sympathetic look. Your mates were both known for their tempers. Azriel was well known for his impulsive behavior. You prayed to the Mother that neither of them acted irrationally. A hard thing to hope knowing you sealed this room the moment you entered.

“Did you want some tea or do you want to rest for the night?”

“Tea. I need to talk if you’re willing to listen.”

“Always,” she smiled.

You grabbed a light robe and moved into the small sitting room. She waited as Samira had tea brought to the room. She fixed you a cup, and then she sat down and took her own in her hands.

“So what happened?”

You let out a heavy sigh, trying to figure out where to start.

You explained the best you could. How they both made a promise to go to dinner and neither showed. You explained how distant they’d been for months. You explained how Eris told you that dinner wasn’t as important as whatever he was working on with the upcoming summit.

“He said I knew what I was getting into when we mated. As if I’m not managing his court while his nose is stuck in itinerary lists.” You added bitterly.

She winced. “And Azriel? What did he say about all this?”

“He said he was sorry. He lost track of time. Conveniently he was silent when I asked why his shadows didn’t remind him.” You stared down at the tea in your hand. You could feel your eyes water again. “He hasn’t- he has always been more physically affectionate than Eris. Out in public, at least. But he hasn’t even-“

You stopped yourself, your face burning. Samira didn’t need to know how Az hadn’t even called you by a specific pet name in weeks. Eris even longer. And how was you supposed to explain they even stopped just casually touching you? It was childish, to be upset about something so silly. Yet thinking about it just made you cry again.

You wiped your eyes. “It just feels as if they don’t want me anymore.”

“They're your mates, of course they want you.”

“Mates doesn’t always mean love, Samira. They did just fine without me for what? Two decades? Maybe longer. Maybe they miss it just being the two of them.”

“Now you’re talking nonsense. Stop it,” she gave you a pointed look.

“What if it’s the truth?” You were so sick of crying. You sniffled and wiped your eyes. “They know each other so well. What do they need me for?”

They didn’t.

That was your whole issue. They didn’t need you. Eris and Az could practically communicate without words. They moved around each other seamlessly. Eris knew exactly how Az liked his tea. Az knew to move papers closer to the inside of the desk when Eris was on a rant, his hands moving about as he talked. Eris knew when to make the spare room without even asking Azriel if he needed it. You tried to watch, to listen. Five years and you still weren’t in tune with them.

Samira shuffled in her seat, drawing your attention back to her.

“Eris wrote a letter to Tarquin. I got it while you were bathing. It wasn’t much, just him requesting to know if you were here and if so, that you get this.” She held up an envelope with his seal on it. “I wrote back that I would handle communication and you’d be staying the night.”

She laid the letter on the table in front of you. Your chest ached, begging you to open it immediately. You shoved it down.

Samira added, “I informed him that if you want to stay longer, I can’t make you leave. Tarquin has already agreed to allow you to stay as long as you need.”

“Thank you,” you whispered and stared back down at your tea again.

“Sleep on it. You can have breakfast with us and decide what you want to do in the morning.”

You nodded. Sleep sounded nice now that the adrenaline of the evening had crashed. You drained the rest of your tea and bid Samira good night. You left the letter on the table. You’d read it in the morning.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Eris poured himself the stiffest drink he’d had in decades. The shame and embarrassment of everything was still burning in his chest. He downed his drink in one swing and poured another. Both his mates were gone. He walked over to his desk where the correspondence with summer sat. Your friend had written back instead of Tarquin. He downed his second drink.

To make things less complicated, I will be handling correspondence until this is resolved. Unless there is a threat to the court, I will not involve the high lord. I promise I will give her your letter in the morning. She was distraught when she arrived and I’ve just gotten her calmed. She’s currently bathing and I will get her some tea to help her sleep.

There was a break in the letter and she added.

She has yet to tell me what happened fully, but as her friend I am warning you both that you two better make this right. I will try to convince her to return in the morning, but she is a grown female. If she requests to stay, Tarquin has already told me she may.

Eris tossed the letter back onto the desk. He doubted once you found out Az left too that you’d come home. It’s what he deserved.

He was a fool to think he could do this- have two mates. To think he could be any better than his father. Three years mated to you and he still couldn’t control himself. Couldn’t toe the line between work and leisure. Fifteen mated to Az and he still spewed venom in his direction the moment he was cornered. And Eris finally got a taste of his own medicine when Azriel spewed it right back.

With a heavy sigh, Eris pulled out more parchment and ink. There would not be a high lord summit- not with all of this happening. He’d draft the letters and send them in the morning. If he could sleep at all, with no one sharing his bed. He went and made a third drink. He opened his bonds and see if you or Az would respond.

Still shut out. The urge to down that third drink was strong. He needed to be sober in the morning even if he didn’t want to be.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Azriel flew until his emotions settled. Eris’s foul words rung in his ears still. ‘I wish Elain never told us’ he’d said. ‘Even the mother herself knew I wasn’t enough for you so she sent her.’

His eyes watered and it wasn’t from the wind in them. There was an ache in his chest- both bonds were shut out. He and Eris fought plenty, before and after they reconciled and the bond snapped. Somehow this was still the worst. He ignored his own words that spewed like venom in response to what Eris had said.

Azriel was angry and hurt. He left- if he stayed any longer the whole Forest House may have been burned to the ground. He circled the border between Autumn and Winter. He couldn't go back, not tonight. He landed in a clearing, stretching out his wings before tucking them back in. He didn’t want to go to Valeris. He had one other option. His shadows seemed to agree, as they circled him and he winnowed.

He landed outside the wards of Rosehall. The fae lights shown through the window.

She is awake. a shadow whispered.

He thought about turning back. He didn’t want to disturb his mother, to bother her with his problems. Yet his feet carried him forward, the wards rippling around him. He tucked his wings in tight and walked to the door. He didn‘t have to knock; the wards were designed to let only few in and to notify her when someone arrived. He could hear the rush of footsteps inside and braced himself as the door opened.

“Azriel?” His mother answered the door, a navy shawl you made for her wrapped tight around her shoulders, sides shaped to accommodate her wings. “What has happened?”

”I had a fight with my mates.” He said quickly. “They’re fine; I just- I couldn’t stay.”

His mother brushed back loose hair to tuck it behind her ear. He realized her hair was half braided. She nodded, and stepped aside to let him in.

“I’m sorry, I can go.”

”Nonsense, come in. I just made tea.”

His shadows swirled past him, one or two weaving around his mother. They always loved her; probably more than him if he was honest. He stepped through the frame and looked around. He had visited two weeks ago and already things had changed. His heart skipped, looking into the sitting room. Feyre had taken to decorating his mother’s house with portraits and paintings. The one above the fireplace was of him and his mother. It was a new one on the wall to the left that wasn’t there two weeks ago that made him stop in his tracks. It was of his mother, himself, you, and Eris. From your mating ceremony, based on the clothing and how close together you all were.

“The High Lady spoils me,” his mother said from his right. “Says my house is too empty. You should see the garden painting she had mounted in the hall a few days ago. Come.”

He felt her hand grab his own. He could only grip back loosely. He didn’t realize how cold his fingers had gotten from flying. If she noticed, she didn’t say. She led him to the kitchen where a kettle sat on the stove. He sat at the small table and watched almost numbly while she gathered cups and poured the tea.

“Zemër, tell me what happened.”

Az looked down at the cup as she sat it in front of him. He wrapped his hands around it, letting the warmth ease the stiffness in his hands. If he was home, Eris would do it for him. He pushed that thought away. He took a few sips, relishing in how the warmth flowed through his chest. His mother waited patiently across from him, braiding the rest of her hair for bed.

“I said some things I shouldn’t have.” His shadows nudged him on the shoulder. “I made a promise and didn’t keep it.” She hummed and tied off her hair. His voice cracked a little when he added. “I don’t know if I can fix it.”

There was a beat of silence and his mother took a sip of her tea. “Why do you think such a thing?”

“Because she left!” He snapped. His mother flinched and shadows hissed at him for raising his voice. “I’m sorry. She left and he- we’ve been so busy and she asked for one dinner and neither of us went. Then she left. And Eris said things. So I said things back.”

He hated that hot tears fell down his cheeks. And that his mother was looking at him with pity. She reached over and took his hand, holding it tightly in her own.

“Words are painful weapons and you are the best warrior in all prythian.” That made Azriel snort and she smiled softly. “This is a fight. Not a war. You haven’t lost yet. They are your mates. You love them. If you haven’t given up your love for them, what makes you think they have so easily given up their love for you?”

She had him there. He gave her hand a squeeze, a gesture of thanks. Then a shadow swirled up his arm quickly.

We must go. He furrowed his brows. He walks to our balcony. We must stop him. We must go. Go.

“Shit.” Azriel winced at himself. He hated cursing in front of his mother. “Mama, I have to go. Thank you. For the tea.”

She watched him stand, not letting go of his hand. “Be careful, my love.”

Despite the tugging of the shadows he gave his mother a kiss on the forehead. “I’ll see you in two weeks. I promise.”

She nodded and he winnowed away.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

At some point, Eris wasn’t sure when; he grabbed the whole bottle instead of pouring himself a glass. He couldn’t sleep. Not alone, with his thoughts and past memories hovering around the edges of the bed. They we’re waiting in the dark to grip him when he was most vulnerable. So instead he drank. Drank to numb the emptiness like he used to in the days before.

One minute he was in his chambers and the next he was stumbling up stairs. There were several balconies in the forest house but there was only one nearest to the roof. He built it for Azriel. It had no railings, just a place for him to take off when he went flying. Az swore he didn’t need it; but he still used it. In Eris’s mind, Az would use the balcony when he came back home.

Because he had to come home. You both had to come home. Eris didn’t think he could bear it if you didn’t. It took him a moment when he reached the door to focus enough to grab the handle. Gods, he hadn’t been this drunk since his youth. Pushing into the room, it was bare- save the single old couch, rug, and unlit fireplace. His gaze fixated on the double glass doors that led to the balcony. If he could just get out there, he could wait.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Eris nearly fell over, balance upended by Az’s voice behind him. He grabbed Eris by his shirt to pull him steady. Shadows that had been absent swirled in his vision, grazing his hair and neck as if checking him over. It took a moment for the world to stop spinning and his focus fixated on the male before him.

“You came back,” Eris whispered.

“Of course I did.” Azriel’s nose crinkled at Eris’ breath. “You're drunk.”

“Can’t sleep.” He felt his eyes water. He reached for Azriel’s shoulder but Az held him in place. “I’m sorry. I'm so sorry.”

“Look at me,” Az’s hands were cold as they cradled Eris’ face, forcing him to look him in the eyes. “I’m sorry too.”

“Your hands are cold.” He muttered, his own reaching up to cover them. He wasn’t sober enough to focus his magic like he wanted to.

“They are.” Az gave him a soft smile. “I’ll live.”

Eris frowned. “Why did you come back?”

To Azriel’s credit, he didn’t seem shocked at the question.

“I came back because I love you.” And Azriel meant it.

“But you said-“

“I said it’s not easy.” He paused for a moment. “It’s not easy but I choose you. I will always choose you. Because I love you.”

There was silence between them for a moment.

“She’s not coming back.”

Az grimaced. “Eris, it’s late. She’s safe in Summer and probably sleeping. Like we both should be.”

“But I need her here.” Eris could hardly bear it. He needed you back. He needed to apologize. “Can’t we go get her?”

“So you want to start a war with Summer?” Az’s face was serious but there was a tilt in his voice.

“You’re laughing at me.” Eris replied solemnly.

“You’re drunk. It’s hard not to.” He sighed, his wings slumping and shadows buzzing about them. “Let’s go to bed and sleep this off.”

Eris was silent but seemed to concede. Az guided him out the room and back to their chambers. He would have winnowed if Eris hadn’t been so inebriated. He really didn’t feel like cleaning up vomit.

“You’re too good to me,” Eris muttered as they made their way down the hall.

Az tightened his arm around him. “I could argue the same.”

More silence passed. “Do you think she’ll come back?”

Azriel didn’t reply. He could only hope. His shadows whispered as much as he helped Eris undress in their chamber and get him to bed.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

In Summer, you tossed and turned. The air was too warm even with the cool magical breeze that floated through the open windows. The bed was too small. Too empty. You finally cast a spell on your blanket and pillows, making them colder. How funny you’d gotten used to Autumn's colder climate.

The spell worked too well. You were suddenly too cold, too cold without Eris and Az’s body heat to keep you warm. Tears fell on your pillow. They were probably sleeping fine without you. Your mind went to the letter you left in the other room. You were too afraid to open it. They probably only wanted you home until after the High Lords’ meeting. Or maybe they never wanted you to come back. You pulled the blanket tight around yourself. Whatever the letter said could wait until morning.

You sighed and tried to go to sleep.

Part 3

#neapolitan bonds #eris vanserra #acotar #azriel #azriel/eris/reader #reader x Azris #part 2 #a lesson in heartbreak

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sukioyakio · 2 days ago

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Between you and your grumpy villain looking husbands he had it worst when having memorable moments with his and yours baby.

Just like the one time all three of you were sleeping peacefully,not a sound could ruin this blissful night but that wouldn't stay blissful any longer until your sweet angel- or “devil brat “ is what Sukuna says

-Woke up and instead of making any sound to let the two of you know that she was awake she got her chubby little legs and climb on top of sukuna face making him slowly wake up for the fat chubby weight on top of him all of a sudden.

The next thing you know was that sukuna See that his little daughter was jumping on his face with giggle sipping out of her mouth but holy crap he look terrified when he smelled straight up shit in his lips and nose.

And without realizing that your so called angel fucking smeared shit on top of his face making him place her down on the bed and ran through the bathroom.

Louds groans and spiting sounds were heard from the bathroom easily waking you up From the sounds,you quickly rubbed your eyes and jerk up,looking around for your baby until you spot her and that horrible smell.

It didn’t take two to connect where smell was. Your wonderful sweetheart displayed with such innocence but what was not innocent was the shit stained on the clean bed sheets that you had such pleasure cleaning yesterday morning.

The scent of your wonderful baby was literally dreadful like the kind of dreadful that crime scenes are describe in a crime documentary type of thing.

Your face scrunch up in confusion. Ok, yes, she poops like she could kill someone but why was your husband in the bathroom spitting unless something that would be your worst fear has happened. ..

“She got her shit in my FUCKING mouth!!” He yelled furiously as he run water in his mouth,Gagging water down his mouth and tongue.

“Oh..” You whispered with a quiet gasp.Little nova looks at you even in the dim light,as if she could see you perfectly.And her face constructs into a bright smile as well as a few giggles.

Her giggle were contagious effecting you in the same way,your lips trying to not look like your gonna laugh at him but you couldn’t hold it anymore.You laugh out in colorful lights,as well as your baby girl.

As if she finds her father dealing her made shift hell was funny,and you couldn’t help but form a small smile.As a second goes by, and the water stops running. Silence seeps in fast but after a while, only Sukuna’s frustrated voice was heard.

“She Even GOT SOME OF HER SHIT IN MY HAIR!!” He yells at loudly, perfect for you two to hear,making you jump out of you blankets but quickly return in bed just in case your little star decides to do a dangerous spider man land.

His ragged voice made you and nova both giggles.

Sukuna grumble slurs under his mouths, as he went to get a grab his towels,And quickly turned back into the bathroom with a moody look.

“What a lovely way to wake up from” you heard Sukuna’s sarcastic remark.Making you smirk playfully.Nova’s little head turns up in curiosity; towards the direction of the lit up bathroom.

sukuna still has the baby scent on his noses and it smell horrible. God, this isnt one of the way of the ways he would like to be wake up too,especially from his baby.

‘The little brat poop’s more then yuji was when he was fucking young’ Sukuna said to himself.

The bathroom water started to come to your ears as you started to grab the baby to the change her papmer.

And then you saw the crime.It was slightly hanging open.And then the scent became even more stronger,you scrunched up your nose. God…she would kill anyone if she wanted.

The brown shit color had some green color to it,making you do a throwup sounds,as nova doesn’t seem to be faze by the smell but seem to see your expression and smile and giggles loudly.

“Jezz Girl… you’re so nasty” you sigh while chuckling. This little punk is what got the best laughter from you in your whole life.you and sukuna but sukuna wouldnt say anything about it.

But you seen him having the most smile when he playing with your baby. It’s cute and wholesome. too bad sukuna is dying in the inside right now.

Speaking of sukuna he’s been there about like ten minutes or 30 minutes now? Hmm… even baby misses him.

You wonder what if mr grump will answer you about how the baby poop taste.probably not. Maybe later? You chuckle to yourself.

As you tickle nova’s feet smiling at her beautiful giggles sound;staring at her attentively tracing her birth mark that were under her eyes bags.Later you went to put Nova to sleep and went to bed yourself.

Sukuna would get out with a different clothes and had probably washes his teeth for about five times. But when he got out of the bathroom. He walks towards the bed quietly. He pauses before getting inside the bed.

As he looks down the beautiful sight infront of him;how your arms wraps around your baby gracefully.How you both look so peaceful.He hadn’t even notice how his lips were moved into a smile.

He knew that you wouldn’t see it, and he silently whispers to himself.

‘You both little punks are my world..’He promised to himself as he lay down on the bed,his body made the bed creek a bit but slowly he wraps his large arms around the both of you,His head laying on your shoulder later falling asleep.

thank you for reading this.This a alton universe of ‘use me then.’ I hope y’all like this one too. sorry about the grammar mistake.

Taglist: @lil-annonie @scoobysnakz @mxrgodsstuff @lynxslokley @mononijikayu

Made by @sukioyakio 2024

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zyafics-recs · 2 days ago

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reblogging comment review from @zyafics

im STUDYINGGGG AGAIN hahaha and i decided to read ⬇️

You were pregnant.How could this happen? How the fuck could this happen?

so u see… there’s this bird and this bee…

You weren't going to cry. You couldn’t. Not because you didn’t want to, but because you physically couldn’t. Not with your makeup done so carefully. Your eyes were lined so meticulously, your foundation blended like a dream, your lips painted in that bold red everyone said you pulled off effortlessly. You couldn’t afford to let your mascara run. He wasn’t worth it.

why r u lowkey funny 😭 girly is going through it but she can’t cry bc she needs to keep her makeup intact is hilarious to me

Ruthie? That girl was giving everyone her signature snake sneer. Of course she was. The bitch had this superpower of sensing everyone's business before they even knew it themselves.

WHAT IF RUTHIE KNOWS

That would be so him, though.

oh my god

You did out without even thinking, grabbing Topper’s ear between two manicured fingers like you were his mom dragging him out of Sunday school, pulling him away.

like i said she’s FUNNNYYYY

But why did it hurt? Perhaps a small part of you wanted him to show up—just to see you, just to care. The other part, however, didn’t. You didn’t want him anywhere near you, or this… this thing inside you.

okokokok i love that she's hypocritical because all her motives makes sense and the sense of flow is so perfectly-paced it makes me wanna scream

They were trying to get you to admit you didn’t invite him. Well, they’d have to try harder. You’d been swimming around sharks since you were born, no one was going to fuck you over so easily.

Then, in the corner of your eye, you saw him.Rafe.

a GUN

You stood taller, and forced a smile, but as you started to step down from the stage, you felt it.

THIS BITCH

“Can we just—” he was practically jogging after you, his voice strained. “Can we talk like fucking adults?”

im actually shaking

He ran a hand through his buzzed hair, the same agitated motion you’d seen a thousand times as if he was trying to smooth out the mess in his head.

this motion is so him too

He wasn’t apologizing for ghosting you. He wasn’t apologizing for her.

WHAT IF SHE TOLD HIM TO APOLOGIZE

He stepped closer, looming over you now, his lips curling into that sneer. “I’m trying to give you a chance to be friends—”Give you? Like you were some charity case to him? As if you should be thankful.

i would be literally committing mass murders rn

You told him the truth and now it had become the scar he wouldn’t stop picking at. He was hurt. And he was angry, because you’d finally told him the truth about his dad, and it shattered that fake picture he had in his head.

literally get a grip

“You don’t get to talk about him like that,” he growled, stepping forward. “That’s why we broke up. Because you don’t fucking get it.”

bro idolizes his dad wayyy too much

You shook your head, “No, we broke up because you didn’t like me telling the truth. Your dad was a piece of shit, and you know it.”

i love her so much

Rafe pulled at the back of his neck again, looking like he might’ve ground his teeth to dust. “Oh, I get it now,” he says, his voice thick with condescension. “You’re jealous.”

there would be nothing but god stopping me from murdering this man

“Jealous?” you repeated, in disbelief. “Of your little pogue girlfriend? Please, fucking spare me. You want me to throw a penny at her?”

she’s so bitchy i love her

He stepped closer, his breath quickening. "She’s real, okay? She’s not some polished barbie pretending in front of everyone, just to fall apart behind closed doors."

TOPPER HAND ME A GLOCK

"Real huh?" You scoffed, the bitterness in your chest taking over. "Is that what you call it? Someone who doesn’t know the difference between caviar and fucking canned tuna? That’s the 'real' you’ve been slumming it with?"

she's actually so real

"Is that a joke? You spend so much time trying to be your father, you’ve lost yourself. Do you think I don’t see it? You’re so fucking empty without his approval,” Your voice dipped lower, “You’re so pathetic it’s almost sad."

TELL HIM GIRLY POP

He said it so casually, so carelessly, as if it hadn’t ripped you apart. It was the way he said it, with that hint of affection, like she was this delicate, shiny little thing he was protecting, and you—you—were just a threat he had to deal with.

he likes SOFIA makes me wanna scream

"I'll drag the fucking Pope into this if I have to.”

i read this as pope heyward and went LEAVE MY MAN POPE OUT OF THIS

Once again, you pondered telling her everything—about breaking down and spilling every ugly detail. But that would make it real.

i wish she DID OHMYGOD

💌 — the visceral anger i feel for rafe right now makes me wanna register for a gun. also also, their fight that cuts so deep because they know each other so well is done to PERFECTION and not only that, i LOVE LOVE LOVE how you can follow reader's train of thoughts—so even if she's hypocritical in her response, it makes perfect sense. lastly, rafe has the fucking audacity i would've slapped him so hard he would've saw his dad ok done

LOVED YOU AT YOUR WORST - r.c series - THREE

pairings: ex!sweethearts; rafe x thornton!reader; rafe x Sofia. chapter warnings: mentions of pregnancy, of abortion, health risks & death.

Two lines.

Two bold, definitive lines.

You blinked. Once, twice, but it didn’t change. It wasn’t going away.

Two lines, clear as fucking day, staring back at you like they were taunting you.

The universe was laughing right in your face. You felt everything plummet to the very bottom of the earth—the room, the floor, your stomach—it all just plummeted, like you’d been pushed off a cliff with no warning.

The test fell from your grip, clattering onto the marble countertop, but you didn’t care. You backed away from it like it was something radioactive, something dangerous that could destroy you if you got too close. But it already had, hadn’t it?

You were pregnant.How could this happen? How the fuck could this happen?

You knew how, obviously. You weren’t that dumb. All you could see in your head was Rafe’s stupid fucking face. His name alone made you want to punch something, preferably his balls.

You were pregnant? With his kid? You were so careful with your life, with your image.

You could feel the resentment rise in your throat again, the taste of acid making you want to scream. He didn’t get to do this to you. He couldn’t ruin your life twice, fuck you up this bad and then just leave. You wanted to hate him. You did hate him. You hated it. And worse, you hated yourself.

There you were, stuck with this. Alone with a baby you didn’t even want to think about. The thought of it growing inside you—of carrying some piece of him, some reminder of everything he put you through these past two months—it was loathsome. He wasn’t part of this, not anymore. And you weren’t that girl—you didn’t want to be. You weren’t the one who begged for him to care, who waited around for him to come to his senses, who made excuses.

You weren’t going to ruin all that hard work over him again. No way.

You pressed a tissue to your eyes—not to cry, but to catch the stray moisture that threatened to ruin your eyeliner—and took a deep breath. You smoothed your dress, and made sure everything was in place.

You didn’t have time to figure it out, or wallow, or throw shit around. You straightened your back, lifted your chin, and forced yourself to feel nothing.

Not the panic, not the nausea, not the rage. Nothing.

You could push it all down, shove it into that deep hellish place in your guts where you put everything else. Later, maybe you’d have to let it out.

Just as you were spiraling deeper into the pit, there was a knock on the door. Loud. It made you jump, pulling you out of your head for just a second.

“Hey!” It was Lily, her voice bright, oblivious. “It’s time. We need you out there. You’ve got like three minutes.”

Right. You wanted to laugh at how ridiculous this was.

You stepped out of the room, every movement rehearsed, the smile expertly placed on your lips. You were a master at this—faking it, pretending like nothing in the world could touch you. Not after seeing those two fucking lines.

Your heels clicked on the floor as you walked through the hallway, down the steps, and into the ballroom. It was filled with kooks being kooks. Fake smiles, fake compliments, fake friendships. You weren’t even listening to a word anyone said to you.

“Hi, darling, you look stunning as always,” someone said, leaning in to kiss you on the cheek. You smiled, said thank you, maybe even added a you too, but you couldn’t hear yourself. Your body knew exactly what to do at these things.

Pretend like you gave a shit.

“Your dad would be so proud,” another woman gushed, and you wanted to throw up. You laughed.

If he knew what was happening. Pregnant? By a man who didn’t put a ring on your finger?

And there they were, of course—Topper, Kelce and Ruthie, standing in the middle of it all, grinning like idiots. Well, Topper grinning like an idiot.

Ruthie? That girl was giving everyone her signature snake sneer. Of course she was. The bitch had this superpower of sensing everyone's business before they even knew it themselves.

A waiter passed by with a tray of champagne flutes, and you reached out instinctively, but the waiter, somehow, just missed you. The tray floated right past, and before you could even realize the fact that you didn’t have a drink in your hand, her eyes were on you.

“Oh, you're not drinking?” she asked, voice dripping with fake concern. Her eyes flickered, like she knew something, and you swear to god, your eyelid twitched.

“Not yet,” you replied with the same faux smile.

Ruthie just kept watching you with those too-knowing eyes, like she was looking for a crack, some little tell. Because she always did.

You had to be so careful around her.

One wrong move, one second, and she’d be all over it, spreading it around the entire town before you even had a chance to breathe.

Your cousin, completely oblivious, was babbling with Kelce about something—probably golf, or the new boat his dad bought, or some other thing you couldn’t care less about. You nodded along, pretending to listen, but you were mentally still in the bathroom, staring at those two lines.

“So, you invited Rafe?” Kelce said it like it was nothing, like bringing up your ex-boyfriend was the most casual thing in the world.

“What the actual fuck did you just say?” You all but growled out, enough to make him choke on his champagne.

He looked genuinely confused, as if he didn’t just mention the one person you’d rather hurl off a bridge at the moment. “Yeah, Rafe. He’s on the list, right?”

Your whole body went rigid. You blinked, trying to keep your face from giving anything away, but inside? You were dying. Ruthie’s eyebrows shot up—oh great, now you had her attention too.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Kelce, of course, had the nerve to chuckle.

If Rafe had spoken to them about being taken off the guest list, you’d lose it. The insolence of him mentioning your name—like he still had any right to talk about you? He should’ve buried the memory of you right along with whatever feelings he claimed to have had.

But then, if he hadn’t said a word about it to his best friends—that meant something worse. That meant he didn’t care. He was over it. Over you.

He hadn’t even bothered to tell them that he wasn’t coming to the gala because he wasn’t thinking about it. Or about you.

You hated either possibility.

Kelce like the asshole he was, "I thought you two were—"

"Don't." You cut him off so fast, so hard, he had to take a step back.

You wanted to grab Top by his clueless shoulders and demand answers. Did Rafe care? Was he coming tonight? You didn’t like any option—every scenario made you want to get on a plane to the other side of the world. If he was planning to show up despite being cut from the list…Shit, what would you even do? You could feel the headache starting already.

That would be so him, though.

The arrogance. The entitlement, ignoring boundaries because he never thought the rules applied to him.

Ruthie, of course, was still watching you like a hawk. Her eyes darted between you and Topper, and you could practically feel her mind working, trying to piece together whatever she thought she was seeing. She loved this. She lived for other people’s drama, and you knew she’d sniff out anything that didn’t look flawless.

You did out without even thinking, grabbing Topper’s ear between two manicured fingers like you were his mom dragging him out of Sunday school, pulling him away.

"Ow, Jesus—what the hell?!" he yelped, stumbling to keep up with you in his shiny loafers as you all but hauled him into the nearest corner of the ballroom, out of sight, but still within earshot of the crowd.

You didn’t care. Let someone see. Let them all see.

You turned to him, barely letting go of his ear, your nails tapping impatiently against your crossed arms. He looked at you like you’d lost your mind, and maybe you had.

“Spill it.”

He was still rubbing his ear. “What are you talking about?”

“Rafe,” you snapped, eyes narrowing. “Is he coming tonight? And don’t you dare lie to me, Top.”

He gulped. Actually gulped. You swore you could see the gears turning in that pretty, empty head of his, trying to figure out if he could weasel his way out of this.

“I— I don’t know, okay?” Topper stammered, running a hand through his hair. “I haven’t talked to him today, but I figured… I mean, he always comes to these things, so I assumed—"

That meant Rafe didn’t tell him. That your little stunt hadn’t phased him in the slightest.

“You assumed?” You leaned in closer, eyes burning holes into his skull. “After everything, you thought it was a good idea to just assume he’d show up and not even bother telling me?”

“I can’t put him on a leash!” His voice rose defensively, eyes wide like he was the one under attack. And yeah, maybe he was. Maybe you’d gone full psycho mode. Rafe always turned you into this—this furious, spiraling, out-of-control version of yourself.

Your cousin was just collateral damage.

“Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe someone should.” You said it slowly like you were explaining something to a child. “Do you even know what it’s like?” you hissed, leaning in closer, your voice dropping , “To sit here, wondering if he’s gonna show up like some ticking time bomb?”

Topper’s mouth opened, but nothing came out.

He didn’t know shit about what you were going through. How could he? He wasn’t the one with a whole life-changing secret burning a hole in his brain, wondering if the father of the child growing inside him was going to ruin everything—again.

“I—I didn’t think it was that serious,” Topper stammered, hands flying up in surrender. “I mean, he’s always been a dick, but—”

You remember the first thing he texted you after weeks of radio silence.

“No,” you interrupted, “He’s more than just a dick. He’s—” You stopped yourself before you said too much. God, you were on the edge, and you needed to rein it in.

Topper, still looking like a kicked puppy, shifted on his feet.

“Look, I’ll text him. I’ll ask if he’s coming or not, okay?” He pulled out his phone, typing something quickly. You watched him, arms crossed, tapping your foot against the marble floor like your life depended on it. If you saw his face—his stupid, beautiful, infuriating face—you didn’t know what you’d do.

Punch him? Scream? Run? The thought of him being here, so close, when you hadn’t even processed what was happening to you…

“Okay, he says—” He paused, squinting at his screen, “he’s not coming.”

The relief. You let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding, shoulders sagging for just a second before you caught yourself. He’s not coming.

But why did it hurt? Perhaps a small part of you wanted him to show up—just to see you, just to care. The other part, however, didn’t. You didn’t want him anywhere near you, or this... this thing inside you.

“See?” Topper said, holding up his phone like it was some peace offering. “He’s not coming. Crisis averted.” He gave you this awkward, nervous smile, like he thought you might hit him again.

You forced a laugh, even though nothing about this was funny.

“Great. Awesome. Perfect,” you said through gritted teeth simultaneously smoothing your dress, and pushing your hair back over your shoulder, “Thanks, Top. Really. You’re a real lifesaver.”

He looked at you like he wasn’t sure if you were being sarcastic or not, but you didn’t care. The moment was over. You’d survived.

You rolled your eyes as you turned away heading back toward your original group. Of course, Ruthie was still standing there her arms crossed, that smug little smirk on her face. She’d been watching the whole thing, no doubt about it.

You could feel her nosy ass dissecting every single move you made.

“He’s not here yet,” she hummed, her eyes narrowing just enough to piss you off. “Weird, right? Maybe he’s busy with Sofia.”

Of course, she brought up that fucking name.

She was sniffing out blood in the water, as if she wasn’t just another Sarah Cameron knock-off. You could already picture it—the headlines, the whispers spreading through the audience, everyone talking about you. The legacy who ruined her own gala.

Kelce snorted, not even bothering to hide his amusement, because of course he thought this was all a joke. He never got it. None of them did.

You wished, for just a second, that you weren’t born into this pristine, high-society life. You felt so smothered by these expectations. If you were anyone else, if you weren’t some debutante raised on champagne and etiquette, you’d have punched her right there. You’d have knocked her straight to the floor and wiped that pretentious smile off her face with blood in front of every stuck-up rich asshole in the room.

“I didn’t realize we were talking about her,” you said, voice like sugar, even though you knew Ruthie could sense the underlying warning in it,“But thanks, Ruthie, for always keeping me updated on things that don’t concern you.”

Her eyes narrowed, but she didn’t back down yet.

“Just making conversation. I mean, it is weird that he hasn’t shown up yet, right? Considering how close you two used to be. I’m sure it’s nothing, though.”

Kelce, that asshole, leaned in, "Come on, don't act like you’re over it." His eyes glanced down to your hand. "You’re shaking."

You were. You hadn’t even noticed.

But instead of acknowledging it, you shot him a look that could've killed. "Fuck off, Kelce."

They were trying to get you to admit you didn’t invite him. Well, they’d have to try harder. You’d been swimming around sharks since you were born, no one was going to fuck you over so easily.

“Uh-huh,” Ruthie said, not buying a word of it. Her eyes flicked between you and Topper, and you knew what she was doing. She was fishing. “You sure about that? You were giving him a look.”

You glanced at your cousin, who was still rubbing his ear like a toddler. “Just sorting out some... logistics for the gala,” you said, voice saccharine, but it felt like chewing on glass. “It’s nothing. Really.”

She arched a brow, her lips curling up in a knowing grin. She knew something was off. She always did. “Right,” she said slowly, drawing the word out like she was savoring it. “Because for a second there, it looked like you were about to explode.”

She was monitoring you so closely, you could feel it crawling up your skin.

“You know,” she sighed, like she cared. “If something’s going on you can tell me. I won’t say a word.”

That was rich. Ruthie, keeping a secret? You’d sooner trust a thief with your jewelry. “I’m sure you wouldn’t,” you said, not keeping the sarcasm out of your voice. “But trust me, there’s nothing to tell.”

Ruthie’s pursed her lips, annoyed that she hadn’t managed to dig anything up, “Are you—”

You were two seconds away from shoving her into the nearest fountain. But instead, you took a deep breath, “You should worry less about me,” you advised her, “and more about that atrocious dress you’re wearing.”

The smile fell off her face so fast, it was glorious.

You didn’t wait for her to recover. You turned on your heel, and grabbed Topper by the arm.

As soon as you were far enough away, he let out a breath he’d been holding. “Jesus, I thought you were gonna deck her.”

You grinned, but there was no warmth in it. “I still might.”

He sighed, “She’s still my girlfriend.”

“Yeah, downgrading seems like a thing for you boys.”

Like a guardian angel sent from above, Lily appeared, stepping between you two with a concerned expression.

“Hey, hey,” she interrupted, glancing between you, “What was that about?”

You could see the caution in her eyes. She wasn’t stupid—Lily knew things between you and Rafe had been rocky, and she’d probably been sensing the tension the entire night. But right now, she was doing her best to defuse the earlier situation before it got any worse.

“Nothin’, just Ruthie being herself,” You dismissed, as you grabbed onto her forearm, “Let’s go.”

Lily blinked, startled by your urgency, but she didn’t argue. “Yeah, we should head backstage, the speech is coming up.”

“Bye Top. Stay the fuck away from the chocolate fountain.”

You could hear him whine in the back, “I did that shit once!”

Lily pulled you along through the ballroom, her arm linked with yours, quickening her pace to keep up with you as you nearly bolted toward the back of the venue. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” you bit out, though your voice didn’t even convince you. “I’m fine. I just need to get this speech over with.”

“Uh-huh,” She replied, clearly not convinced, but smart enough to drop it for now. “You got it, don’t worry.”

Finally, you made it to the side entrance that led backstage. The thick drapes and low lighting created a shield, giving you a small moment of privacy before the world demanded your attention again.

Lily stood next to you, gently touching your arm, “You don’t have to do this if you’re not ready. We can stall, or—”

“I have to,” you stopped her, rubbing a hand over your face, “I can’t—” You didn’t finish your sentence because you didn’t know how to say it. You had no choice.

Lily’s fingers squeezed your arm a little tighter. “Okay,” she said quietly, nodding. “But I’m here if you need me.”

You forced a smile, one that didn’t reach your eyes. “Thanks,” you whispered, even though the words felt hollow in your mouth.

You appreciated her being here, really, but she was blissfully unaware of the pregnancy test in the trash can.

Taking a deep breath, you adjusted your posture, straightened your dress, and ran a hand through your hair, reminding yourself that you’d been here before. You’d stood on that stage so many times.

This wasn’t new. You just had to get through it.

One more speech. One more night. You glanced at Lily, gave her a quick nod, and stepped through the final curtain. Back into the spotlight. Back into the role you’d perfected so well—put together, poised, untouchable.

The low murmur of the gathering hummed in your ears, growing louder with every second. You weren’t ready. You were never going to be ready.

You just needed to remember how to breathe.

The speech was printed and sitting in your hands, it felt like dead weight. You hadn’t even read through it since you’d finished it hours ago, and now, the thought of standing in front of all those people, pretending to have it together—it felt impossible.

Then, in the corner of your eye, you saw him.

Rafe.

He said he wasn’t coming. Topper said he wasn’t coming. But there he was, standing there, watching you just like he always had.

You hadn’t even meant to look. You didn’t do it on purpose, perhaps it was muscle memory, always searching for him. He was standing in the same spot he usually took. Like nothing had changed.

As if he hadn’t ripped you apart.

You tried to focus, but your heart was racing, thundering in your ears.

How dare he? How fucking dare he? Instantly you were back there, that messy, intoxicating space you swore you’d never return to. The one where he controlled the air you breathed. He looked so good. Too good, really. He was wearing a crisp navy suit that hugged his frame perfectly, hair buzzed again.

You should’ve guessed he’d find a way back here, even after everything.

“Are you ready?” Lily whispered beside you, her voice pulling you back from the brink of a breakdown.

“Yeah.”

Your heart raced as you forced yourself to look back at Rafe.

He wasn’t smiling. He wasn’t even pretending to look interested. He just stood there, his eyes locked on you, unreadable, unfathomable.

He was still watching you. It felt like could see through your polished exterior. He probably did. He knew you better than anyone else. You wondered what he saw—the confident girl who had always pulled off these events with ease or the terrified woman who was about to pass out from the pressure.

Then, he’s lips lifted slightly. That infuriating, devil-may-care almost there smirk that had made your heart stutter long before everything went to hell. It reminded you of nights spent tangled in sheets, whispers pressed against your skin under the cover of darkness, moments that felt like they belonged in a dream.

You wanted to throw the speech away and storm off the stage, leaving this whole night behind.

Instead, you cleared your throat and gripped the edges of the podium, the cool wood bringing you back to the world.

The words were on the paper in front of you, but you didn’t need to look at them. You knew the speech by heart every year. You’d written it yourself, after all—crafted it with care, knowing exactly what people needed to hear to make their checks bigger, to keep your father’s legacy alive.

It was just a matter of saying it without breaking.

A deep breath, and then you began.

“Good evening, everyone. Thank you so much for being here tonight.”

Your voice sounded better than what you felt, and you leaned into that, letting it carry you through the first few lines.

“We gather here every year for the same reason—to celebrate the incredible work this foundation does, and to honor the legacy of those who came before us. This foundation isn’t just a charity; it’s a tribute. A way to remember those we’ve lost and to carry their dreams forward. It’s about giving back to a community that gave so much to us.”

You paused, just for a moment, glancing down at the speech in your hands, feeling the overwhelming crush of what you’re about to say next.

“For me, this has always been personal.” Your voice softened as you continued, “Most of you are aware I lost my family a few years ago. My father started this foundation. His vision was always to make sure that no one was left behind, that we take care of our own. My mother helped build it. And my sister…” You hesitated, remembering how faultless she’d been, “She was always the heart of it.”

The room was utterly still now, everyone listening intently.

“Tonight, as I stand here, I can’t help but think about how proud they would be of what we’ve accomplished. At least, I hope they’d be proud.”

You allowed yourself a small, bittersweet smile.

“My dad would’ve been in his element, making sure everything was spotless. And my mom, well, she’d probably tell me that the curtains were horrid and needed to be replaced immediately.”

The crowd gave a light laugh, the tension in the room dissipating just a little. You smiled, a real one this time, for the first time in weeks, picturing your mother in her no-nonsense way, criticizing every decoration like it was the most important thing in the world.

“I miss them every day,” you added, “And I’m certain I’m not the only one in this room who’s experienced that kind of loss. It changes you. But it also reminds you to live in a way that makes them proud. And that’s what tonight is about, continuing their work, continuing their legacy, and making sure we do right by them.”

Your grip on the podium loosened, and you looked up, making eye contact with the audience.

“So, to everyone here tonight—thank you. Thank you for believing in this cause. Thank you for your generosity, your support, and your kindness. And thank you for helping me keep their memory alive.”

With that, you stepped back from the podium, the applause swelling around you, but all you could hear was the sound of your heart breaking.

It was over. You did it.

Automatically, your eyes flickered up toward the back corner, the spot where Rafe was standing. You never needed to look before; you’d always just known he’d be there. It was his silent promise to you since you were sixteen. Every gala, every speech—no matter what happened between the two of you—he was there.

But he wasn’t there anymore. The space was empty.

This was what you wanted, you didn’t need him anymore. You were going to get through this on your own. It was the first time he wasn’t there to catch you like he’d always been.

You stood taller, and forced a smile, but as you started to step down from the stage, you felt it.

That stupid fucking warmth.

His hand found your elbow as you and every nerve in your body screamed bloody murder. The applause was still buzzing in your ears, cameras flashing—none of it registered.

All you saw was him.

Three seconds. That was how close you were to snapping. Who the fuck let him in?

You yanked your arm away, the touch burning your skin like it was staining you. You didn’t say a word—just turned and headed straight for the back exit.

Behind you, you heard his footsteps.

Of course, he never knew when to stop, when to let you breathe.

“Can we just—” he was practically jogging after you, his voice strained. “Can we talk like fucking adults?”

You were already halfway down the hall, pulling off your earrings as you stormed toward your suite.

The fucking sheer audacity of this man. You couldn’t even process it—how he could stand there, with his fake-ass calm tone, chasing after you like you were the one being unreasonable.

You threw open the door to the suite you got ready in, the one that was supposed to be your sanctuary for the night and stepped inside, not bothering to close it behind you; you knew he was going to follow you in any way.

He was relentless like that.

You tossed the earrings onto the vanity and glanced up to see he was right behind you now, lingering in the doorway, as if unsure of how much further he could push before you exploded.

He looked at you like he was the victim in all this.

“Can you at least listen to me for a second?” It sounded like he was forcing himself to stay calm.

But that bite was so Rafe.

You spun around, your breath coming out harsh.

“Listen to you? Listen to you? You’ve got to be out of your fucking mind.”

He opened his mouth to say something, but you were already pulling off your heels, the sharp tug at the straps doing nothing to calm your frustration.

He stood there, his eyes on you, but you couldn’t even bring yourself to look at him for more than a second without feeling the betrayal flooding your chest.

Rafe was rubbing the back of his neck in that agitated way he did when he was frustrated. “I came here because I didn’t want to leave things like that. I thought we could be civil—”

“Civil?” You nearly laughed, “You seriously think you can walk in here and be civil after everything?”

His eyes narrowed just a fraction. He moved on his feet, stepping further into the room, and you saw it—the way he rolled his shoulders like he was already preparing himself for a fight. “I came to apologize.”

He ran a hand through his buzzed hair, the same agitated motion you’d seen a thousand times as if he was trying to smooth out the mess in his head.

Your hands stopped mid-motion, your necklace halfway off. You looked at him like he’d lost his mind. "Apologize for what, exactly?"

“For calling you dramatic.” He exhaled like he was doing something noble by saying it. As if he was doing you a favor. “For that text. I was drunk, didn’t mean it.”

He wasn’t apologizing for ghosting you. He wasn’t apologizing for her.

You stared at him, completely floored. He was serious, he thought this was some kind of peace offering. The fact that he thought an apology for that would fix anything? Insane.

“You think this is about that?” You cackled, chucking one shoe to the side, not caring where it landed, and the other followed right after. “Oh my god, Rafe, you are so fucking clueless.”

His expression changed then, brows furrowed, “I’m trying to make things right,” he mutters. “I don’t want you out of my life, okay?”

You threw the necklace somewhere on the ground, your patience gone. “You were the one who pushed me away. You don’t get to waltz in here and act like we can just fix things because you finally feel bad about it.”

He stepped closer, looming over you now, his lips curling into that sneer. “I’m trying to give you a chance to be friends—”

Give you? Like you were some charity case to him? As if you should be thankful.

“I don’t want to be your friend!” You growled in his face, stepping forward and jabbing your finger into his chest, “I’d rather set myself on fire than be your friend, so you can take that chance and shove it up your ass.”

His hand came up to run along his head again, and you saw the way his fingers curled into his scalp like he was trying not to give in to his impulsive thoughts. His breathing was heavier now, too, chest rising and falling quickly.

“Why are you being so difficult?” he snapped, and there it was—the familiar, accusatory edge in his voice. “After what you said about my dad—”

The reason.

The thing that broke you two this time, the thing he’d been holding over your head. You saw the hurt in his eyes, the one thing he hadn’t let go of.

“You’re gonna bring that up right now?” Your voice was so quiet it nearly scared you. “After all the shit you’ve put me through, that’s what you’re mad about?”

“You don’t get to talk about him like that,” he growled, stepping forward. “That’s why we broke up. Because you don’t fucking get it.”

But Sofia did, right?

That was fucking hilarious. She didn’t grow up listening to Ward’s bullshit. Didn’t see the kind of things he’d say or did to his oldest child.

Of course, she would take his side. She didn’t know better.

You shook your head, “No, we broke up because you didn’t like me telling the truth. Your dad was a piece of shit, and you know it.”

For a moment, the air went deadly still between you. You could sense his hurt, the way it sneaked between every bitter word.

Then, he did it—the thing you knew he would, that thing that made your blood boil.

Rafe pulled at the back of his neck again, looking like he might’ve ground his teeth to dust. “Oh, I get it now,” he says, his voice thick with condescension. “You’re jealous.”

Your whole body went borderline rigid, like a door, locked in place.

He was standing there, offering you friendship like a pity prize, calling you jealous when you were standing there broken, trying not to fall apart because of him.

“Jealous?” you repeated, in disbelief. “Of your little pogue girlfriend? Please, fucking spare me. You want me to throw a penny at her?”

He stepped closer, his breath quickening. "She’s real, okay? She’s not some polished barbie pretending in front of everyone, just to fall apart behind closed doors."

Ouch. But you could do worse.

"At least she doesn’t care about any of this," he snapped, gesturing to the glittering gala that surrounded you both. "She’s not obsessed with keeping up appearances.”

A cold laugh escaped your lips. He must’ve forgotten to look in the mirror today.

"God, you’re so delusional. Do you think I wanted any of this?” You shot him a look that could cut through steel. "I’m not the one faking it. You are. You are still so desperate for Daddy’s approval that you can’t even see what a fucking mess you are."

Rafe's hands flexed at his sides, his fingers twitching. His nostrils flared, and he tilted his head to the side, running his tongue over his teeth like he always did when he was trying to stay calm.”

"I’m not afraid of who I am," His lips barely moved as he spoke, rolling his shoulders back again, standing to his full height. "You spend so much time trying to be perfect, you don’t even know who you are anymore."

He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your skin, like a predator sizing you up, his eyes locked on yours. You could see his jaw clench, his chest rising and falling with every shallow breath as he tried to keep his composure.

You took a step closer, your chest brushing against his, your heart pounding so hard you could hear it in your ears. His gaze flicked downward, scanning your face.

He clenched his jaw again, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. He took a sharp breath through his nose, staring you down with a look that was all Rafe—volatile, unreadable, on the edge of breaking.

Right then and there, Lily burst into the room, her wide eyes taking in the scene like a bomb had just gone off.

"Okay! What is going on in here?" she demanded, her voice sharp but layered with concern. “I could hear you two in the hallway. If something happened, this is not the place to deal with it.”

“You wanna know what happened, Lily?” you started, almost laughing with disbelief. “This motherfucker started seeing someone behind my back. Two months—two fucking months—with no real closure, no answers. And he’s off fucking some pogue.”

“It’s not like that,” He scoffed, pointing a finger in your direction as he took a few steps back, "Don't drag Sofia into this.”

His posture screamed defensiveness, and all you could think was how much you hated the way he said her name. It made you want to throw up, it felt like someone was taking a rusty nail and dragging it down your spine.

"I'll drag the fucking Pope into this if I have to.”

You were the one who had been there through all his bullshit, you were the one who held him together when everything in his life was falling apart. Now, suddenly, she was the one he spoke about softly. Like she mattered.

It was insulting.

“Guys!”

Lily stepped between you both, throwing her hands up as if she were separating two wild animals about to rip each other apart.

“Please, please calm down. Rafe, I think you should leave. Now."

He looked like he wanted to say more, you knew he had a million things screaming at him beneath the surface, but for once, he stayed silent. Maybe it was the fact that Lily was there, or maybe he finally realized you weren’t going to bite into his bullshit excuses and provocations.

Whatever it was, he took a step back, shaking his head. “Unbelievable,” he muttered under his breath, storming past Lily and out of the room.

You could hear the distant sound of the door slamming as he left.

The moment he was gone, you felt your breath coming out in shallow gasps. Your heart dropped to your stomach, your pulse racing.

Lily turned to you; her face full of concern. She reached out and grabbed your shoulders gently.

“Hey,” she whispered, her voice soothing, “Breathe. Just breathe.”

You pressed a hand to your chest, your breath hitching. Pregnant. You were pregnant with his kid, and this was what you got in return.

No peace. No calm.

Your chest tightened, your vision blurring.

“Hey, hey,” She cooed again, her hands on your arms, grounding you. “You’re okay. We’re going to figure this out. Just breathe, okay?”

You couldn’t believe you’d let it get this far—couldn’t believe you were even in this situation.

There was no way you were having his kid.

Absolutely not.

You didn’t even have to think about it. The decision had been made the second he’d defended her and insulted you like you were sidewalk littering.

Tomorrow, you’d take care of it. You’d book the appointment and that would be that. Clean break, no more ties to Rafe Cameron, no more staying in that fucked up twisted cycle with him.

“I really think you need to sit down and breathe for a second. You’re scaring me sweetheart, and honestly, this isn’t good for you.”

Once again, you pondered telling her everything—about breaking down and spilling every ugly detail. But that would make it real.

Your designer dress clung to you in all the wrong ways, as if even the fabric could understand the order going changes in your body.

“Whoever let him in, I want them fired.”

You spat suddenly gaining momentary strength to ruin lives. It wasn’t just a demand; it was an execution order.

The quiet threat of it was more terrifying than your screaming would have been.

Tomorrow, you’d make sure this nightmare ended before it could begin.

TAGLIST: @maybankslover @october-baby25 @haruvalentine4321 @hopelesslydevoted2paige @rafebb @rafesbby @whytheylosttheirminds

@zyafics @astarlights @bruher @nosebeers @carrerascameron @serrendiipty @sunny1616

@yootvi @ditzyzombiesblog @psychocitylights @maibelitaaura @kiiyomei

@stoned-writer @justafangirls-blog-deactivated2

@starkeygirlposts @enjoymyloves @ijustwanttoreadlols @icaqttt

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron series #rafe cameron (by @itneverendshere)

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houserautha · 2 days ago

Text

These Destined Ends

Part Nineteen

Summary: Jessica fulfilled the wishes of the Bene Gesserits to produce a daughter. You’re now burdened with the task of not only marrying the na-Baron, but also bearing his child — the Kwisatz Haderach. Will you take your fate into your own hands? Or will it always belong to those who control you?

Pairings: Feyd-Rautha x f!Reader

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: MDNI, 18+. Fighting, Feyd eats ass and pussy, a little humiliation, violent sex, drowning(?)

A/N: I was really in the mood to write some unhinged sex, so, here we are. Surprisingly there is a lot of plot too

“For someone so…prolifically opposed to the Bene Gesserits, you aren’t working very hard to dismantle our ideas.”

Your mother’s voice slips over you, slick as oil. It takes an enormous effort not to keep walking and pretend like you didn’t hear her. She would just stop you, anyway, which is the only reason that you turn around.

“Go ahead and spit out whatever you’re trying to say. All of your riddles bore me.”

Jessica licks her tongue. “Hm, so cunning.” When you don’t say anything else, she draws up her shoulders and sighs. “You claim you don’t want to trick the Fremen and yet you are still dragging them into your fight.”

“This is their fight as much as ours,” you snap.

“It’s all apart of our plan.” Jessica spreads her hands wide. “They will follow you as the Holy Mother, and then they will follow your son as the Lisan al-Gaib. And if you’re successful in your endeavor against the Emperor…well.”

She smiles, the rest of her words going unspoken. We will rule the Known Universe.

A fist of regret forms in your stomach. “I want to liberate them. It is not my intent to keep them…under control.”

“Oh, but you’ll manipulate them to get your way first? Such a noble act. You’re just like your father.”

You tuck away this last insult to examine later, why it cuts you so deeply. Instead, you focus on how Jessica has said aloud your guilt, brought it to life in a way that you had been trying to ignore. No matter how hard you fight against the Bene Gesserits, you somehow end up still adhering to their false prophecy. An inescapable fate.

“What do you want from me?” You ask her. It’s repulsive how efficiently she can crumble your composure.

“To impart a reminder.” Jessica steps closer, sand crunching underfoot. “I did all of this for you, daughter. To protect you. And I will not tolerate your insubordination.”

“To protect me?” You echo, sneering.

Jessica’s laugh is dry and bitter. “You are not as cunning as you think. I married you to a man who would shield you with his life, fill your belly with his children — ensure you a status as a figure to be reveled. I made you a god.”

“You did nothing,” you say back, lacking any real conviction.

“You’ll understand soon. You might already, the depths that a mother’s love will go, and what we’ll do for our children.”

Jessica lifts a hand to touch your face, then thinks better of it. She must sense that this is the most devastating thing she could ever utter to you because she brushes past you without another word, leaving you open and bleeding.

You hate that she’s right.

That you’re playing into the Bene Gesserit’s design. But you see no other way to even glimpse freedom for the Fremen if not recruiting them in this self-made battle. Except it wasn’t self-made, your thoughts scream at you, it was the Baron and the Emperor.

Anger boils under your skin. You’re sick of others telling you what to do, dictating your life while you were pushed along like a leaf in a strong current.

“You need to eat,” Feyd chides you, bringing you out of your thoughts.

“Hm?”

“Eat.” He indicates your ration, which you haven’t even touched. “You need to be strong.”

You blink. You can’t even fathom eating right now, especially not with this much guilt churning in your stomach. Blurting out, you tell him, “I think I’m going to do something completely absurd.”

Feyd, who had been ravenously devouring his own ration until this point, pauses. He swallows.

“Alright.”

“Alright?” A smile tugs at your lips. “Don’t you want to know what it is?”

“I don’t care.” He leans back. “You’ve been uncharacteristically quiet. I suspected you were planning something.”

“You are either a wonderful husband or wonderfully stupid, Feyd-Rautha.”

“I’m told that I’m just all around wonderful.” Feyd’s eyes narrow. “Now eat.”

The plan unwinds from you between forced bites of food. It starts as a single thread that unravels itself until it’s all unspooled, leaving you to hold the pieces. A strange calm settles over you. You’re in control. Capable. Powerful.

Feyd gives you his support. Not that you believed he would do any different.

And when you reveal parts of your plan to Jessica, you frame it in a way to make amends with her. To be compliant. You have no way of knowing how convincing you are, but she lets you gather the Fremen to speak to them, all the while her blue-on-blue gaze watching you carefully as you ascend the slab of rock used to preside over sietch-wide meetings.

Feyd lingers a few feet behind you, Gurney not far from him, an uneasy truce between the two.

Beneath you, the Fremen gaze up with looks of awe; even Chani observes the proceedings with a look of interest.

You’ve earned their trust.

And now you’re going to take it away.

"The final days of our siege on the Emperor and his Harkonnen pets are upon us," you call out, voice booming, "I have never been so honored to walk alongside any other people, and I have the utmost faith in our victory."

You’re met with a cheer of approval.

It takes a moment for the crowd to quiet before you can continue. There's an electric current in the air, nearly infectious, the anticipatory thrill before battle. You hope that you're not making a mistake as you say, "To go into battle, you must trust your brothers and sisters, trust your leaders. I must confess that I haven't been honest with you."

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Jessica move to stop you. Feyd, with cotton in his ears and anger in his eyes, doesn't let her get far.

The crowd rumbles, wary.

"I am not the Holy Mother." Sounds of confusion arise, which forces you to raise your voice. "I am a flaw in the plan of the Bene Gesserits. I failed to learn their power, and therefore, my child cannot be the Lisan al-Gaib."

"What? Is this true?" At Stilgar's emergence, the sietch stills.

You regard them as evenly as you can, throat constricting. "Yes."

"But you knew everything. All of the signs of the prophecy —"

"It was a lie. A ruse."

Stilgar's tremulous control of the sietch snaps. The Fremen riot this information, hurling insults, pushing and shoving and jostling like one enraged creature. You stand your ground. You knew this would be devastating to deliver, not nothing could prepare you for the raw portrayal on their tanned faces.

As planned, Feyd and Gurney ward off anyone who tries to get to you — Feyd slides twin daggers from the sheaths at his waist, metal glinting dangerously. The Fremen lurk, circling, but they do not engage, not when the na-Baron has now learned their ways atop his own lethal training.

You bear the weight of their fury as best as you can. Somewhere deep inside, you know that they have to expel this from their minds and their hearts before you can say anything else, but that doesn't mean it hurts any less. You commit each expression of betrayal to your memory. If they were going to suffer, then so would you.

The sound of shifting sand is your only warning before someone hurtles past you — Chani, somehow slipping past your defenses, only barely misses you as you step aside at the last possible moment. There's not enough time for you to recover from the surprise before her next attack, sweeping your legs out from under you. You fall, hard, on your ass but have enough forethought to scramble backwards.

"Chani, listen to me —"

"I knew we should've killed you when we found you in the desert," she hisses.

She advances on you and each step she takes you shuttle back, pain ringing out in your spine. Your son is safe, you can sense it, but you don't know how long that will last with Chani gaining on you.

"Chani —"

"We trusted you," she wails, "we trusted you!"

You manage to your feet, one hand going to your stomach. A fierce wave of protection washes over you, and you insist, "You still can."

Chani springs for you.

You gasp with shock as she seizes you, eyes wide with anger. "When will you stop fucking lying?"

"I'm not lying," you breathe out. "I am not the Holy Mother. I am Lisan al-Gaib."

Whatever she expects you to say, it's not that. She pauses, and you take the chance to slam your elbow into her throat. A choked sound escapes from her, but she releases you, and you stagger past her to reclaim your spot at the top of the rock. You don't have much time. If you don't say what you need to, then you'll lose them forever.

"Brothers and sisters!" Gripped with desperation, you shout, "I tell you this because I am not the Holy Mother. I am the Kwisatz Haderach. I am Lisan al-Gain. And I will lead you to freedom."

"She's lying!" Chani roars.

"The prophecy states that the Lisan al-Gaib's mother will be a Bene Gesserit, that the Messiah will take the name Muad'dib, take you into battle for your freedom and for a new Arrakis. Have I not fulfilled that? Have I not promised you those very things?"

The protests subside slightly. It might be to decide how best to kill you, but you seize the opportunity. "I should not have lied. I was afraid. I thought if I told you the truth, you would be mistrustful because I was with child, that I was wed to your enemy. I know my mistake, and I know that I can't retract it, but I beg for you to forgive me."

"How do we know if we can trust you now?" Stilgar asks, expression hardened.

"You don't, and I can't fault you for it. But if you let me, I will prove my sincerity in the following days, by defeating the Emperor and securing our rightful place in the Known Universe."

"Never," Chani snaps from behind you.

You let some of your emotions leak into your voice, "Then what will you do? If you dispose of me, there will be no Atreides bombs. You will have no weapon against the Emperor and the Sardaukar, the Baron and his own army. Do not be so blinded by your anger that you make a mortal error. Only together can we be triumphant."

While Gurney and Feyd work together to fend off the crowd of protesters, Jessica finds you, nearly toppling you from the rock and wrenching your arm from your shoulder. "What are you doing?"

You wrest your arm from her grip. Quickly, you flick your gaze over the revolting Fremen, over all of those you had grown close to, then return your gaze to her. "Making myself a god."

The water lays impossibly still. You stand at its edge, taking in the enormity of the subterranean pool. All of the lives of the deceased Fremen reside within, a watery tomb, untouched. How deep did it go? You imagine your life's water funneled into it, how small and insignificant it would be, barely a ripple on the surface.

Tomorrow, you would fight.

The Fremen returned their water to the sietch to be used one day in their new world, an endless cycle of resourcefulness and unity. How many lives would end here? How many lives to reach the new world that Kynes described?

You sigh, and the sound echoes throughout the cavernous space. There's a strange, tranquil calm here, silent and still when everything else has been a mess of noise. Even now, focused on the depth of the sacred pool, your mind races with worry and indecision. You just want it to stop.

Perhaps tomorrow would offer you peace.

The peace of the battlefield, your body acting on instinct and years of practice. You could handle that — bloodshed, death, being a weapon. You could not handle this new position of power you put yourself in, though. An act against the Bene Gesserits, but at what cost? You alone were to blame now for the inevitable jihad. But you protected your son from this fate, you put a cease to the lying and the deceiving, and now you could wrest the control that you always wanted.

The sound of heavy bootsteps rings out in the death chamber, scattering the handful of Fremen who had been working. You hadn't missed their pointed stares or the wide berth they gave you, but you were grateful nonetheless for their departure, especially since it was prompted by your husband. His presence, even at your back, anchors you instantly.

"You've been here awhile."

"Have you been watching me?" You ask, turning to place him in your peripheral, a sketch of black and white.

There's no mistaking the twitch of amusement on his features. "You're a fool if you think I ever stop."

Since the day that you proclaimed yourself as Lisan al-Gaib, Feyd had taken it upon himself to be your security detail. It's not unlike before, but now with more menacing stares. A second shadow, one that you love more dearly than your own. You smile. "Should I be flattered?"

"If you'd like." The metallic sound of his blades sliding into their sheaths precedes him, then his hand gently sweeping the hair off your neck. Feyd's mouth is warm at the top of your spine, the tiny amount of skin showing.

Your eyes flutter shut. "I can't believe it's finally here."

"Finally being the operative word," Feyd rasps, "I've waited a lifetime for it."

You turn to face him, heart panging. He's so beautiful like this, in this dark light, the blade before its whet on stone. You know from experience that this could change frighteningly quick, but you still appreciate these fleeting moments with him, that they're yours alone.

"Only one more day," you tell him.

His gaze searches you. "We have better ways to spend it than staring into this pool and analyzing our decisions."

Your cheeks burn. Of course he knew what you were doing. Your attention drifts from him to the sacred pool again, the expanse of water beneath the teeth of the stalagmites. "It's difficult when our decisions impact so many."

"I know, jewel."

It's this level of understanding that compels you to him, how he knows better than anyone else the dilemma you have. And he doesn't offer empty words or sympathy. Just...himself. His strength and his solidarity. And you want him, all of him.

Unable to go another second without touching him, you pull him into you and tilt your head, his mouth claiming yours without hesitation. One hand slides behind your head, cradling you, and he deepens the kiss. There's nothing soft about Feyd, nothing done without fervor, and you moan as he bites down on your lip. Taking your open mouth as invitation, he slips his tongue inside, brushing it over your own.

Molten heat erupts in your core. You wend your arms around his neck, matching his intensity and scraping your nails over the back of his head. He shudders, the familiar nudge of his cock stirring against you in response. Wanton, you grind your hips into him, eliciting a growl from deep within his chest. Feyd guides your hand to palm his hardened length. "Let me distract you."

"This isn't an effort to fuck me one last time before we die, is it? Because you only had to ask."

You squeeze his head through his pants.

Feyd inhales sharply, but the intensity on his face never wavers. "You won't die unless it's by my hand. And I'm feeling charitable."

"Is that because I have your cock in my hand?"

"It certainly helps."

You smirk. Although you're both aiming to keep the tone light, his message is clear — he won't let you die tomorrow. It's a promise he's made before, and one that comforts you in your lowest moments. There's other ways to declare your love, but this one was uniquely Feyd's.

You never would've thought that the promise of your death could sound so sweet.

In vain, you make an effort to free him from his stillsuit, but they're infuriating efficient at keeping everything out. You can't help it, you whine. With a chuckle that brushes over your spine, Feyd steps back to relieve you of your frustration, working the mechanisms of his suit.

The first hint of his bare shoulders has you clenching your thighs together like a virgin, wet already. You should've been ashamed at the immediate reaction, but you really don't care. Feyd slowly rolls the stillsuit down his chest. Your stomach swoops. He's corded with muscle, powerful arms flexing as he moves the stillsuit low on his hips. Cunt clenching and pulsing with anticipation, you watch him remove it, noting every inch of your husband's divine physique.

"Have I told you that you're beautiful?" You ask him. There's an array of thin, delicate scars across his skin that you trace with the tips of your fingers — older ones, ones that you've put there, the still-pink wound from the thopter crash.

Feyd's lips hitch. "You've called me many things, but that's never been one of them."

"Well you are," you tell him, "you're beautiful."

"Quit saying things as if you'll never have the chance to again." His tone is brusque. The expression on his face can only be described as tormented, anguished, undoubtedly confronted by the same reality of tomorrow.

It's not your intention to provoke him, but it spills out of you. "We don't know what's going to happen to tomorrow. Anything —"

"I'll tell you what's going to happen." Feyd grabs a handful of hair at the back of your head, pain lancing through your scalp. "We're going to slaughter those that wronged us, and I'm going to fuck you amongst their still warm bodies. But tonight, I'm going to remind you that no harm will come to you unless I inflict it."

Something breaks open in you at this. Feyd yanks your head back and the momentum sends you staggering, falling to your knees. He advances toward you and you eye his cock, curved and throbbing, veins black with his blood.

Feyd fists his shaft, giving it a lazy stroke as he watches you. "You get on your knees and instantly think you get this cock?"

"I —" your face burns. Isn't that what he wanted?

"Filthy slut," he murmurs, still stroking himself.

Heavy lidded, dark eyes swimming with glee, he orders you to turn around. You obey, and the air is snatched from your lungs when he pushes you forward onto your hands and knees, sand biting into your palms.

The water of the sacred pool trembles.

You're utterly vulnerable as Feyd starts to work the clasps of your stillsuit, fingers grazing over your skin in the most delicious way. The suit falls from your shoulders and you lift up each arm as he tugs it off, mouth following its path with open mouth kisses. He snakes around you to cup your breast, flicking one stiff nipple with his thumb.

The action sends a bolt of pleasure straight to your core. You bow into him, and Feyd massages you, alternating between flicking your nipple and rolling it between his fingers.

It's truly torturous when he revokes his hand to continue pulling your stillsuit off, and you whimper at the cool air in his absence. Soon he's tugging it around your knees and finally discarding it, leaving you vulnerable to his gaze. Quivering, whether with cold or anticipation, you bite out a yelp as he traces the seam of your ass, then the tight ring of muscles.

Feyd palms your ass, kneading it, forcing you to spread your legs further. He blows a stream of breath over your sensitive center.

"Shit, Feyd," you mutter, teeth gritting. You hate when he teases you, offering you only a taste of what he plans to do.

In reply, he circles the ring of muscles, then dips his other hand to greet your clit.

"You are the most beautiful," he rasps to you, ministrations making you squirm. "Especially like this, so desperate."

The warmth of his mouth ghosts down your spine, the cleft of your ass, before settling there. He kisses your entrance while applying pressure to your clit, one, then two fingers slipping inside your slicked folds. If you could howl without somehow disturbing the dead, you would, but the sanctity of this place keeps your mouth shut.

A laugh rumbles from him because he knows, he knows that you'll let him fuck you here but you'll still uphold your respect in this way. All of the worry and concern for tomorrow is chased away by the punishing effort of his mouth and fingers, replacing it with a lightheadedness, the predecessor to your orgasm.

He curls his fingers, twisting and turning them with practiced precision. Meanwhile he slurps from behind you, vigorous, eager, his spit combining with your arousal wetting you from front to back. Feyd continues to finger you while he flattens his tongue and licks up, circling the ring of muscles before flickering over it. You can feel yourself spinning closer and closer to your climax, stomach tightening and cunt throbbing.

"Do you want to come, jewel?" He asks, biting at your ass.

You cry out in surprise and then, panting, answer, "Y-Yes."

Feyd withdraws from you. He sucks his fingers clean, the sound driving another bolt of pleasure through you, before shoving your face into the sand and tilting more of you to him, hips shifting. This time he brings his attention to your cunt, implementing the same ferocity, lapping and feasting with dizzying effect.

He seals his mouth around your folds and sucks.

It doesn't take long for you to completely come undone, whimpering, shuddering with each wave of your orgasm. Feyd focuses on you until you're thoroughly spent, then releases you with a satisfying squelch. Gasping for breath, you would've collapsed if he hadn't been holding you upright. There's no time to recover, though, as he slips his hand back into your hair and inches you to the edge of the sacred pool.

Stars are still bursting behind your eyes. You stammer, "Feyd, what —"

"I hurt you because I love you," he rasps into your skin, pressing a kiss between the blades of your shoulders.

And then he forces your head underwater.

The pool is shockingly warm. But it's not enough to ward the chill of shock that washes over you: first, that Feyd would desecrate such a sacred site, then the twist of horror when he doesn't immediately release you. Bubbles escape from your mouth. Your eyes are open, you think, but you can't tell, it's pitch black beneath the surface.

As you expend the last of your air in a silent scream, your lungs pinch with panic — he's going to kill you now, he's going to drown you.

He yanks you back up right when you think that you might never take in another gulp of air. You sputter and gasp, wet hair clinging to you, using whatever measures necessary to keep yourself above the water. But Feyd overpowers you, and he ducks your head under.

This time you have some notion of preservation and keep your eyes and your mouth shut, even when your lungs scream in protest. It's all for nothing, though, when you feel him notch his cock at your entrance.

Feyd wrenches you up again. Through your gasping he growls out, "You are mine. In life and in death, jewel."

He slams into you up to the hilt. You have just enough time to cry out before he's dunking you back under, withdrawing and then slamming into you once more. The pain and pleasure entangle themselves within you, make it difficult to decipher one from the other, entirely infused.

Your survival instinct is yelling at you to fight and you thrash, desperate to rake air back into your lungs. But there's no mistaking the utter thrill of him pounding into your cunt over and over again, quite literally holding your life in his hand while he does it. Only Feyd could straddle this delicate line of control — only Feyd would you let hold such power, one infinitesimal decision away from ending your life for good.

And so it goes, Feyd rutting into you while intermittently releasing you from the pool's watery embrace. Sometimes he keeps you above the water for longer periods of time. At least, it feels that way, there's really no way to tell. Tears leak from your eyes and you cry and beg. No matter how much it makes your cunt clench, you can't turn off the part of you pleading for reprieve. And sometimes he keeps you under the water for eons, the edges of your vision darkening, but he always pulls you back up.

You're suspended in this constant ebb and flow. You have no sense of being, of time, no sense of whether you're coming or not even though there's waves of pleasure beneath the panic.

Feyd's cock swells inside you. You're sore already from his fervent thrusts, thighs quaking, but you know he's close to chasing his own release.

You flop down onto the wet sand as he finishes. Chest heaving, you squeeze your walls around him as he spills his cum in you. He lingers until he's done, then crawls by your side by the edge of the pool, where you're still trying to catch your breath and find some inkling of clarity. Feyd curls up beside you, pulling you into his arms and whispering praises in your ear.

Shivering, you allow him to envelope you, warmed by his rasping voice and the gentle touch of his hands over your bare skin. He brushes a thumb over the slight swell of your belly. You don't know how long you stay intertwined like that, both of you coming down from the high of your passion as the pool returns to its former stillness.

Frankly, you didn't want to know the repercussions you would face for treating the sacred place so vile. No one would know but the two of you, of course, and the countless people who had returned their water there. You say a quick prayer of forgiveness to whoever is listening as Feyd kisses you. At least you would both go to whatever Fremen hell together, which was the least you could ask. Just like he said.

In life and in death.

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@moonsoulk @heartarianagran @torchbearerkyle @taleah @mamawiggers1980 @jovialeggsbailiffsoul @avidreader73 @unicorntrooper @beebeechaos @kamcrazy123 @wo-ming-bai @m-indkiller @sp4ceboo @dacreshoney @stopeatread @the-na-baroness @therealslimshady-1 @unnisumi @aoi-targaryen @psychoffin @lauratang @austinswhitewolf @bloodyziggy @aleemendoza2425-blog @forgedfromthestars

#feyd rautha #dune #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd x reader #feyd x you #fanfic writing #feyd smut #writers on tumblr #fanfic #writing #these destined ends #part nineteen #I’m so sorry Fremen #I’m so sorry Frank Herbert

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gothamite-rambler · 1 day ago

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Talia pulled a few strings so Damian doesn't get expelled

Principal Lynn spotted Bruce with Talia Al Ghul, who had sneaked into the school PTA meeting without his knowledge and refused to leave. Seizing the opportunity, the principal decided to address the situation by discussing their son, Damian.

Principal Lynn: Are you Damian's mother?

Talia: Yes, and Bruce Wayne's wife.

Bruce (shaking with rage): Would you stop it with that?!

Talia: Is it wrong to state the obvious?

Bruce (loud, angry): Talia!

Talia: Fine, fine, you’re right. Hi, I’m the woman he should’ve been with.

PTA Mom: Been there.

Bruce groaned, regretting his decision to tell Talia about the meeting hoping she wouldn't drop by.

Principal Lynn (uninterested): Whatever your relationship is, I need to discuss your son.

Talia: My son? What praise do you have for him?

Principal (sighing): He’s about to be expelled.

Talia (eyes widening): The hell he is!

Talia bristled, ready to launch herself at the bewildered principal, but Bruce held her back.

Principal Lynn (startled): Oh… You weren't kidding.

Bruce (exhausted): Nope.

Talia: He will not be expelled from another school! How dare you threaten an intelligent child with expulsion!

Bruce: Talia, for the love of Christ, can you calm down?

Talia halted her struggle, crossing her arms in a pout.

Bruce (keeping her restrained): What can we do to stop the expulsion?

Principal Lynn: I’ll get to that in a minute, but Mr. and Mrs. Wayne—

Bruce: We’re not married or together; we’re just co-parenting.

Talia: Really, sweetie? You’re lying in front of all these people?

Bruce: Talia, I will toss you in the dumpster outside. What were you going to say, Lynn?

Principal Lynn: This exchange is giving me a headache. Damian pushed a kid down a flight of stairs and said it was an accident, he brought a sword to class on two separate occasions, and he claimed a girl was faking a seizure to avoid helping with a project—while she was actually having one!

Bruce turned to Talia, bracing himself for a loaded question.

Bruce: Was she faking it?

Principal Lynn: Oh my God, we've been over this—no!

Talia: Excuse him! That was clearly a mistake on Damian's part. He can be a bit adamant about being right, but he explained the other two. That bully clearly tripped. I believe my son! And how is bringing a katana to school for a project wrong?

Principal Lynn (raising her voice): HE LEFT A MARK ON THE CHALKBOARD!

Talia: Who do you think you’re shouting at, you hayawan?

Talia lunged at the principal again, but Bruce quickly wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her back.

Principal Lynn: My apologies, ma'am. I can agree that Damian is often described as a star student, but these incidents are serious. I want to help you because he usually gets along well with the teachers, but it’s difficult convincing the school board to change their minds.

Talia: I got it!

In a sudden movement, Talia flipped Bruce over her back, causing him to land unceremoniously on the ground with a thud. He groaned in pain.

Bruce: Well, my back pain just flared up.

Ignoring his plight, Talia pulled out her phone and dialed a number. After a minute, she began speaking earnestly.

Talia (on the phone with her father): Father, Damian is being threatened with expulsion when it's not his fault, and I need your help.

She paused, her brow furrowing in irritation.

Talia (loud): No, he cannot return to our place and be taught by you! Remember plan apple?

Another pause. This time, she nodded with a smile.

Talia: Yes, the school needs a new computer lab, and this could work. Can you send over enough computers?

Pause.

Talia: Shkran lak, father.

With that, Talia ended the call with a satisfied smile. Principal Lynn stood there, baffled, while Bruce remained on the ground, nursing his aching back.

Talia (smugly): All right! Give my father a day, and there will be a new computer lab with the latest tech. And you won’t expel my gift to this world, correct?

Principal Lynn (shrugging): I was going to ask for a donation for the school, but that works too. You're good.

The principal walked away, leaving Bruce groggy as he stood up, glaring at Talia. She crossed her arms proudly.

Talia: Told you I could handle this without stabbing anyone.

Bruce: Great. Can you leave now? I could've done this myself.

Talia: You didn't, though. You needed me. I have to run, but I’ll see you around, honey bun.

Talia attempted to plant a kiss on Bruce's cheek, but he quickly turned away and walked off, mumbling under his breath.

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newkatzkafe2023 · 7 hours ago

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(Saw a funny simpsons episode and thought of this 😅)

Monkey King's wife having really bad baby fever. Probably just got married.

But seeing mothers with their own babies.

Busting the door down yelling at monkey King.

"impregnate me at once!" 🤣😂

Monkey King reaction

OH MY GOD I REMEMBER THAT EPISODE!!!!!!🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

So You were helping your neighbor when her new baby daughter and she sent you to handle it while she makes her bottle 🍼

You were quite nervous but one Lullaby and a coo later, you Realize you needed to Tell your husband something..............

(Monkey queen) IMPREGNATE ME AT ONCE!!!🤯🤤🤰👶

(Lmk Wukong) WHAT THE HELL YOU MEAN BY THIS?!??!?! Wukong blushed horribly at your demand and despite knowing about your baby fever for a few weeks, but this is crazy. I mean, maybe a cute baby monkey could lighten up the home and to see you being so domestic......maybe it's not a bad idea.

(HIB Wukong) YOU DON'T HAVE TO TELL ME TWICE. Hello, he's a well established family, man. I'm pretty sure we talked about this before and all the time. He's now hot and ready for all those cubs you wanted to bad, way to Trigger his own baby fever that crap is Contagious.😑

(NR Wukong) AYE YO WHAT?!?!?!?! Wukong loves to get very Intimate with you as always, but never for a cub. I mean it's not a bad idea but their are Many things to consider, but those thoughts quicky melted away when you had already ponce on him.

(MKR Wukong) Really infront of his master and the other two?!?!? I Mean your way to pumped up to care but come on hun. Ignore his melodramatic ass he was gonna ask eventually but only when you both get back to flower fruit mountain officially.

(Netflix Wukong)..........A little more context would be nice. He would be down for it considering he's been alone for most of his life, so he'll agree after a while. Still the answer is yes and he looks forward to it.

(BMW Wukong) Believe it or not, but he's been suffering from baby fever for a while. In other words, the stubborn Monkey man was way too full of himself to ask directly and kinda nervous, too. Though with your sudden request, his nervousness went right away.

(Destined one).................................Yeah, the poor silent man's brain had crashed and burned at your sudden loud request. Like you want a cub??? Like that's great and all, but he had many doubts about being a father, but you always made sure to praise him for being such a good husband, so he would be a good father too.

FEEL FREE TO REBLOG🤱

#monkey king netflix #monkey king reborn #monkey king x reader #nezha reborn #lmk monkey king #monkey king hero is back #x female y/n #black myth wukong #the destined one x reader #the simpsons #baby fever #Family life

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ineffablecabbage · 2 days ago

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Ahahaha, just jumping in from someone who was raised as a (Southern) Baptist (whose father was Catholic) and who is now Lutheran, which is often Diet, Caffeine Free Catholicism.

The main differences are:

Baptists do not baptize babies.

Baptists believe that baptism is about being "saved" and "born again." And therefore, you have to be "born again" before you can be baptized. Thus, no baptitzing of babies. Catholics when they are in their teen years have something that is Confirmation, where they basically agree that they accept that they believe in God, believe in the Catholic rules, and want to be a part of the church.

Baptists - especially Southern Baptists - often do their baptizing in creeks. Lacking a CREEK, some churches have a little pool in their church. But a proper Baptist church will require a full on body dip for a baptism.

Baptist Communion often involves footwashing, as well. Catholics do not do this lololol.

The most important theological differnece is this: Catholics have a complex set of saints and Mary herself (and priests) that are involved in prayers. Baptists absolutely do not have that. You get down on your knees directly and pray to Jesus and/or God. Praying to literally any other being - including a saint - is viewed as blasphemous.

Because of #5, my mother's family thought my father's Catholic family were pagans lololololol.

I will say this as an aside: Generally, the stories of Jesus are kinder on Mary in the Catholic retelling. In my upbringing, it was very "Joseph was so great because he didn't have this girl stoned to death!" Whereas, in my besties' Catholic telling it is "Mary is great, actually," and that's the Lutheran version I get these days, too.

Baptists have preachers and ... that's about it? There's no baptist equivalent of nuns or deacons or anything like that. Catholics have a complex structure of priests, deacons, bishops, etc.

Oh! This is southern baptist, not necessarily Baptist - buildings are not grand, and do no have stained glass. The services last sometimes for multiple hours, and communion is done 3 or four times a year. For Catholics, communion is every week, and the services are under an hour lol.

also to give you an idea of just how badly the catholicism goes over my head i didnt get that the pool scene was baptism when i first read it because i thought baptism was only done by baptists.

i’m sorry but this is so fucking funny. baptism is only done by baptists and communion is only done by communists

#religion #politics #real life

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prettypinkporkchop · 1 day ago

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Hey love request again-

Seth x reader where his imprint thinks he only loves her cause the imprint bond, but he tries to explain it’s her he loves. Like some long angst then fluff…or whatever 😘😘

You bang against Seth's bedroom door. "Seth Clearwater! Open up!"

He opens it, shirtless and his hair in a mess. "What? What is it?" He grabs your waist and looks over you.

"Can you stop?" You shove his hands off of you. "Stop being nice to me! I refuse to become subjected to this forced bond!" You yell.

He stares at you blankly. "How'd you get in my house? I.. lock the door."

You lift up the key that he left in your house.

"Oh.. right. Can we please talk?" He gently touches your shoulders.

You shake your head. "No. Leave me alone. You don't love me, Seth. It's the stupid bond." You back away.

He steps closer. "Y/n, I love you. I loved you before the bond." He says.

You don't know what to believe. Way back when you both were younger, you'd just see him around town. You both got along and became acquainted. But when his father died, everything changed. Now, you BELONG to him. But... it's forced. He doesn't love you?

"You're lying." You whisper.

"If I was, would I have tried this hard?! Do you remember how I flirted with you so bad when we were kids?" His eyes water. "If I could go back and ask you then and not be so shy, I would."

You breathe out a shaky breath and shake your head. "God, this can't be real." You run your fingers through your hair.

He brings you in a hug. He holds onto you and rubs your back to calm you down. He has always done this while you were upset. But now is not the time.

You push away and look at him. "I'm gonna go home."

----

You're at the beach, sitting with Leah. You watch as the wolves laugh with their imprints. They seem so in love, but you believe what your mind is telling you.

"You know, it's not what you think. Seth does love you." Leah says.

Leah has been a good friend of yours. She doesn't talk much about what's between you and Seth. But sometimes she will vouch for him. He is her brother, so you understand.

"How would you know?" You turn your head to face her.

"Because before dad died, you were all he talked about. He was a twelve year old that swore he knew he loved you." She starts laughing. "The universe only told him he was right."

You look down and then look at the water where Seth and Quil wrestle.

---

You walk down the sidewalk to the bar with your new friend, who is your coworker. She seems cool, so you agreed to go to the bar with her. You figured it'd be a good opportunity to get your mind off of Seth.

You both walk inside, and you see a bunch of people. Some are sitting and drinking. A lot are walking around, visiting, or dancing to the blaring music.

Blake gasps as she notices a guy at a seat. "Hubba hubba." She chuckles.

"Eh, I thought this was a girls' night!" You whine.

"It sure is." She winks.

You end up drinking alone. Blake is dancing with the guy and had just forgotten you were there.

"Care to explain why a beautiful woman like you is by herself tonight?"

You look up from the bar table and see a man sitting beside you. He has a half smile on his face. He's tall with pale skin and blue eyes. His hair is in a military cut. You look at his wrist and see an army bracelet. Hmm.. a military mam.

"Uhm, I'm just being ditched." You giggle and sip your drink.

"Hey, sir? Can I get a shot of whiskey?" He asks the bartender. He turns back to you and nudges you. "Who ditched?"

You nod your head to the dancing people. "My friend. She found a guy."

He laughs and then takes the shot that is handed to him. "I think you just found your guy." He winks.

You get a random flash image of Seth in your mind. His face is looking at you like he did a few years back when you told him you don't want to be a part of the bond. His face breaks your heart.

You feel guilty. And the thought of being with this guy tonight is grossing you out.

"No, I'm not looking for anything." You smile.

"I respect that. Want to just drink and chat?" He smiles back.

"Sure." You turn to the bartender. "Hey, sir. May I get another (your drink)."

He nods his head and gets your drink for you.

"So, I'm guessing you're in the army." You look at his bracelet.

"Yeah. I'm home for the week. I don't really like serving." He takes another shot.

"How come?" You sip your drink.

"I miss home a lot. I uh, also don't want to serve a government that doesn't care about us." He smiles.

"I see. I still believe you have a good heart for joining." You reply.

"Pfft. I joined for the free schooling. I plan to become a cop. A good cop."

You drink more and more... and then more. Blake left with that guy. You and this guy you learned to be Tyler have been getting drunk by the minute.

"I just, I'm so over my life. I'm exhausted." You slurr and drop your head on the table. You're thinking of Seth.

"Fucking tell me about it." He agrees.

Your phone starts ringing and you answer. "Helloooo."

"Y/n? Where are you?" It's Seth. He's panicking.

"I'm okay. I'm at the bar." You groan.

"Damn it.." He hisses and then hangs up.

"Who was that?" Tyler asks.

"My..." You think carefully of what to say. "It's complicated." You sigh.

"Gotcha." He says.

After a few minutes, Seth barges in. He walks to you and gently takes your hand from the table.

"Hey!" You call out.

"Dude.'' Tyler says. He tries to grab your arm so your hand leaves Seth's hand.

"Let her go, man. She's my girlfriend." Seth says.

"No." You slurr and stand up. You stumble out the door.

Both guys follow you. You step over the sidewalk and bend over. You're about to blow.

"Who even are you?" Seth asks.

"Tyler. Who are you?" He asks.

"Her boyfriend, Seth!" He responds.

"I didn't know she had a man." He replies.

You throw up.

"Shit." Seth runs to you. He rubs your back and pulls your hair back. "It's fine. It's okay." He whispers.

God, his touches. The way he treats you. You feel so bad. He has been like this toward you since before all of this. Maybe you do believe him...

You collapse on the ground and in his arms. You breathe hard. "Seth.. can you take me home?" You ask.

He takes you to your house and you stop at your front door. He stands next to you while you fumble for your key to unlock the door. You find it and look at him. He looks back at you:

"Why are you looking at me like that?" You ask.

"Because I'm hurt." He responds.

"Me too. I'm mad at myself." You open your door.

You both walk in, and he goes straight to your bathroom. You hear him running the shower. You go in your room and drop your stuff on the bed and take off your jacket. Seth walks in the room.

"Are you sobering up?" He asks.

"A bit." You smile.

"I've got your shower going." He says.

"Thank you, Seth." You walk over to him.

You wrap your arms around his neck and pull his face down. He wraps his arms around you and smiles.

"Do you believe me?" He asks.

"Yeah. I love you."

His smile widens, and he slowly leans in. You hesitate but go in for it. You both kiss. It's slow and soft. This is the first time you two have kissed. You feel that chemistry. You feel... like this is all you've ever wanted and needed. He pulls away and places his forehead on yours.

#embry call #jacob black #twilight #paul lahote #jared cameron #sam uley #seth clearwater #twilight wolfpack #leah clearwater #quil ateara #seth clearwater x reader

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jojotichakorn · 11 hours ago

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i cannot imagine myself being this person. like, if i step out of joke's shoes for a moment and try jack's on, i cannot imagine thinking "oh, the love of my life's father thinks he is a worthless piece of garbage, so let me contact him and reassure him that my boyfriend is worthy of his love now that he's done some nice things". you were a debt collector for years, jack. hardly the pillar of the fucking community, even with your lax attitude. did your grandmother kick you out of the house for that? or did she - as your parental figure - love you anyway? good fucking gods.

#jack and joker #jack and joker: ep 10 #archer watches j&j

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rainybyday · 3 days ago

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me have another 2am thought

Anyways, Rin is training to be a medic-nin right? I just thought this was the best way for Rin to get closer to Kakashi because of his trauma.

my thought process:

Rin is a child shinobi that grew up in war, moreover, she is training to be a medic-nin in wartime. Now, when you are learning something that is very sensitive and possibly life-altering like medical knowledge in wartime you have to be very knowledgeable so that 1) you can heal your soldiers faster and efficiently, 2) not have to replace your soldiers from multiple deaths, 3) would be considered more advances in military efficiency compared to other hidden villages. Especially when the hidden leaf grew up with the living legend of Tsunade, meaning most medical knowledge is very highly known and advancing more quickly with the wartime crunch.

What I'm getting at is that medical knowledge should be highly advance when Rin starts her training. However, as said before, she has to understand medical knowledge to start the practical medical process.

Let me propose this: Rin has seen many mentally unstable shinobi because of the tragedy of war.

Maybe this might seem extreme but so is using children to go on a mission that is to be the turning point of the war and not a shinobi that is more highly advanced and fully capable of in acting it, not preteens who barely advance into another rank.

So Rin has seen many horrors of the human mind from those that they lost, physical injuries, and to the deaths they committed by their hands. Wartime is not stable for the fragile minds of children who grew up in war. Hence, I think Rin has seen and mostly helped and shadowed many nurses and doctors to help their patients as much as possible before they are forced to enter the battlefield once more.

I think Rin might feel like a failure in some sense, to see these people she could help but also can not. She has to send them off to a place that was the reason for causing their minds to slowly break, not knowing if they would come back or if she sent them to their death.

If obito can have inseacureties about his clan, and Kakashi with his father, then I would make it so rin's struggle is trying to save those she was trained to save but can't.

This would honestly make more sense if it were applied to how Rin tried to save Obito and her sacrifice for the village. Maybe she thought she could finally save people even though no one would know her name, even if she hurt her last friend, even if she would never open her eyes.

(and now i have 2am tears, god damn )

So this is how I connect this thought process:

Rin doesn't see the effect of Sakumo on Kakashi. Well... yes she has since she did know him when he was younger but let me rephrase that. Rin sees Kakashi as a cool and amazing person, even when she enters the academy and is placed into a team with him, he is still 'cool' and 'amazing' and 'skilled'. She, like Obito, might have never heard of Sakumo's death and thought that this was how Kakashi had grown up to be. Or she just thought this is how Kakashi has grown up to be through the natural change of growing up like any other kid and might not have questioned it.

But what after she started to learn medical information? People don't usually know what is wrong with the people closest to us, we excuse their behaviors as "Oh, that's just like them" or "Oh they've always been like that". Rin could have thought of this or she was just blind to Kakashi's struggles because she herself is still a child, a child who thought very highly of Kakashi and might have seen him in some sort of hero-worship. We are often blind to those we hold close to because we always see them in one type of light that we don't see other 'discoveries' about them.

But anyway, I think Kakashi acting all jumpy and weary and even scared at Obito would make Rin see Kakashi in another light. One that matches her patients. Of course, it's going to take a while because, after all, she has been holding Kakashi on this pedestal majority of her life, but she will see the signs.

She will feel shocked, and maybe a bit of denial because how can Kakashi, genius and perfect Kakashi Hatake, have ptsd/trauma. Much less with Obito of all people!

But she will look, she will watch, and see that he acts like this when Obito is most angry when he yells or shouts when he blames him or calls him out. She will see Kakashi become tense and still, how he always keeps an eye on Obito and is tip-toeing around him instead of aggravating him.

She will see how fucken terrified Kakashi is of Obito and think.

Why is Kakashi scared when Obito yells? Why is he so quiet all of a sudden? Why is he so twitchy as of late? Why does he have dark eye bags under his eyes? Why does he look like he is losing weight?

Why does Kakashi look like a dead man walking?

It scares her, it scares her a lot.

Kakashi is starting to look like the shinobi she treated but can't truly heal or save. He looks like he is consistently being hunted by a nightmare like he doesn't want to live, like he is the last man alive.

Rin is scared, scared that someone she grew up with, seen, and became friends with (at least she hopes they are friends) is now looking like the people she has failed.

Then she started to think, is this the last time I see him? Will he be back? Is this the last time I ever see him again?

Those thoughts haunt her.

And her mind steeled itself to one though.

I won't fail him, I won't.

a question but also an idea dump

has there been a Kakashi time travel fic to his time in Team Minato and he's scared or overly cautious of Obito? Like I'v seen a couple where he is just either very nice to his team mates or he's going through trauma hell to be very jumpy over everything. But like, is there one where he is just kind of fresh out of the war or during the fourth war and the first thing he wakes up to is his old team?

Minato which, while dead, he still saw and had some sort of closure with him

Rin, depending on when he traveled back, is a girl he spent years regretting her death but understood through years of friends helping him that she made that choice, or saw her ghost, and is stable now of his feelings about her

Obito on the other hand? Obito who he despaired for years, who he based his personality and character on, who turned out to be the killer of his second family, who hurt his village and friends, who started a world with the world, who wanted him to essentially kill him (the same way he did with Rin), and if we go further, who died after he saved his students when Kakashi was willing to be that sacrifices instead.

Honestly, I think he would have fresher newer trauma from Obito all over again. I think Kakashi would have spiraled if Obito lived after the war, yes maybe he will forgive him or whatnot but you can't tell me he wouldn't have some sort of complicated resentment for all that he did and the impact it had in some sort of twisted way in his life. Kakashi is a shinobi, he is an adult, he has trauma. He will not just feel one type of emotion for other people because he himself knows to see the world in a shades of gray. But emotions are a funny think and they take time to react and mask them.

So imagine Kakashi back to his younger days and the first thing he sees is Obito yelling at him, getting angry at him, blaming him

You know what most people talk about when it comes to trauma? Flashbacks. But for Kakashi, he's flashback was real and staring right back at him.

He will attack Obito, maybe run, maybe keep fighting him, to kill or defend himself? I don't know, you usually don't know when you are faced with the face of your trauma yelling right in your face when you are at your most vulnerable.

Needless to say, Team Minato is very concerned for their youngest.

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lyle-and-erik-menendez · 18 hours ago

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"We were sitting in the car and Erik was crying and Lyle was looking at Erik like a father looks at his son", said one person at the house that day, "Lyle was very serious, saying 'Oh my God, I have to do this and I have to do that.' Worrying about Erik, looking at Erik. You could see he had been crying, but he was not as emotional as Erik"

#Menendez Brothers #Erik Menendez #Lyle Menendez

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planetpedri · 3 hours ago

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this is gonna make me sob into my pillow but #2 angst thingy with pedri 😣😣😣😣😣😣😣😣

Peace — Pedri González.

Pairing: Pedri González x Fem!Reader

Summary: Breaking up after a a three year long relationship had hurt you tremendously, but when Pedri had texted you that he got injured and wanted you to come to the hospital… well you couldn’t say no.

Word count: 1.47k+

Disclaimer/s: Based off the prompt ‘Hold me, please?’ , angst to comfort / fluff.

A/N: hi im on an angst kick don’t expect much happiness coming out of bea’s blog.

You reread and reread Pedri’s text. Over and over and.. you get the gist. You couldn’t help the pity that built in your heart, but you also couldn’t help the anger that arose along with it.

It had only been a week, for God’s sake. You’d broken up a week ago and the wound was still fresh. Angry thoughts clouded your mind the whole drive to the hospital, all the way up the elevator, to the door, but the second it opened and your eyes landed on the man you had folded.

Every rage filled feeling disappeared, replaced by the overwhelming urge to comfort him. You hold back, cautiously poking your head through the door. “Uh, can I come in?”

At one side of the bed was Pedri’s mother, only furthering to the awkwardness of it all. Seeing your ex and his mother a week after you’d broken up was not something you imagined happening, yet, here you were.

María stood, her eyes darting between her son and the woman she’d grown to adore so dearly. She had to fight the smirk threatening her lips when she saw the tension in her son’s shoulders depleting.

“I’m going to the cafeteria to find your father.” She says, patting Pedri’s head, “it’s nice to see you again.” She offers you a kind smile before rushing out of the room.

“You too..” You begin, but she was already long gone. Left alone in the depressing hospital room, you find your gaze drifting to his leg. “Jesus..” You mumble.

Pedri doesn’t say anything, simply letting out a quiet hum of acknowledgment. He watches you carefully as you make your way to the side of his bed.

“I don’t.. I don’t really know what to, uhm—“ You were grasping at straws for something to say. Nothing came to mind, causing a flush to spread across your cheeks along with a nervous laugh.

The tan man couldn’t help the way his eyes softened and the small, barely noticeable smile of his lips. He’d missed you. Everything about you, he had missed. The breakup of course, was his fault. He been so stressed with football that he’d taken it out on you, saying things he didn’t mean but couldn’t take back.

“You don’t have to say anything.” He speaks, wearily. He wanted so badly for you to just look at him, he didn’t blame you for avoiding it, though.

“I feel like I probably should, I mean.. this is..” You were once again, at a loss for words. “I’m so sorry, this sucks.” Pathetic. That was pathetic.

Pedri was unfortunately, very injury prone. You’d been in this position many times, but this was different. You couldn’t rush to his side, you couldn’t shower him in apologetic kisses, you couldn’t do the things you used to. And those were the only ways you knew how to comfort him.

Your legs brushed against the hospital bedsheets, when you remember. “Oh! Shit, I almost forgot, I set them down outside the door because I wasn’t sure if they would be appropriate right now.. Wait, I’ll be right back.” And just like that, you were gone, leaving Pedri completely and utterly confused.

When you returned, you had a blanket and, what you’d called the ‘designated hospital hoodie’ in your hands. He recognized them instantly. Your favorite hoodie of his, and the blanket you’d used specifically on the nights he’d stay over and the two of you would fall asleep on the couch.

“I figured it would get cold in here, it always does.” You gingerly hand him the items, freezing when his fingers brushed against yours.

Pedri froze as well, his eyes snapping up to you. “Sorry, uhm, thank you. Seriously.”

“It’s no problem.” You cough, “so! How are you? How bad is it?”

Shaking his head with a tired sigh, Pedri winced as he scoots over on the bed, his jaw clenching as he does. “Joder. [fuck] ” He hisses in Spanish, taking a second to speak again, “you can.. sit down y’know?”

Hesitantly sitting onto the uncomfortable mattress, your eyebrows furrow, “you shouldn’t be moving so much.” You scold, easily slipping back into your old concerned girlfriend mode. “How many times do I have to remind you there are plenty of chairs I can sit on?”

“And how many times do I have to remind you, that I prefer you closer?” He rebutted, the both of you pausing when you realize you weren’t allowed to do this back and forth anything.

But, you shrug the feeling off. Despite how things had ended, you loved Pedri. You cared for him. He was hurting, and you were not about to make him hurt any more by opening up the wounds that were still fresh.

“Well, your comfort is a bit more important than your wants.” You crack a small grin, “how did surgery go?”

Pedri huffs through a painful exhale. “I don’t want to talk about medical shit anymore. I’ve had to deal with my families badgering all day…” He hesitates before continuing, “I know this is overstepping, but could you just.. lay down? You don’t have—“

“I’d lay down if you weren’t hogging all the pillows.” You tease, “move your big head.” Shifting around to a sitting position beside him, you wiggle around till the thin blankets were out from under you and on top of you.

He laughs, the sound sweet and welcoming to your ears. You turn your head to the side, meeting his eyes directly for the first time since you stepped into the room. “This is only mildly weird.”

“Yeah.” He agrees, taking the blanket you’d brought and spreading it out over the two of you. “Another boundary crossing question…?”

“I don’t see why not.” You swallow, not knowing what was about to come out of your ex’s mouth.

“Hold me?” He asks with the saddest eyes, “please?”

Listen, you were no fool. You knew your actions would have consequences. This simple act was going to either lead to your heart breaking even more, or potentially causing you to go against your morals and allow forgiveness.

You couldn’t get yourself to speak, instead, you lift your arm to wrap around the back of his neck and your hand came up to rest on his head. Pedri automatically relaxes against your shoulder, letting out a long breath of relief.

You stay like that for a while, your fingers threading through his soft hair while the other hand occupied on his cheek, it’s fingers rubbing smoothly back and forth along his cheekbone. It had always been the way you calmed him down when he was upset. The familiarity tugged at your heart strings and in that moment you didn’t care how badly this was going to hurt you, you only cared it would make him feel better.

Plus, he always told you how much peace he felt when he was in your arms, and thats all you wanted him to feel in the moment.

“Pedri?” You quietly beckon him to look at you, which he does. His eyes fluttered open and a small hum leaves his lips. “You know I can’t stay..”

He tries to hide his disappointment, but you knew him too well. “I understand. Sorry, I shouldn’t have even asked you to come, I know I hurt you.”

“Hurt is one way to put it.” You quirk an eyebrow, hiding the genuine words behind a teasing grin.

His eyes flicker around your face, noticing every crack in your expression. “I am sorry. I didn’t mean the things I said. I can do better, I will.”

“That’s not enough. The things you said.. Pedri, I can’t just forget them.” Exasperated and ready for the conversation to end, you tap his head. “Just lay back down.”

Pedri shakes his head, “no, we need to talk—I need to talk about this! I don’t want you to forget, just hold me accountable and give me another chance.” His tongue darts out, wetting his lips. “Please, cariño.”

That stupid, stupid, stupid pet name. The only one you ever really loved when it left his lips.

“Can we talk about this when you’re not suffering from an injury? Like, what, two months? When your head is clear, and i’ve had time to get over what you said.. you call me. Then, we can talk about it.” You push his head back onto your shoulder and rest yours against his hair.

“Okay. Two months?” Pedri’s hand that had wrapped around your waist, dips under your shirt, rubbing slow circles. “I can do that.”

Pressing a short kiss to his hair, you hum. “I’ll leave when your mom comes back. Don’t text me or contact me till those two months are up, got it?”

Pedri groaned, “nothing?”

“Nothing.”

“Fine.” He rolls his eyes.

likes , comments , and reblog’s are all appreciated. lmk if you’d like to be tagged in any pedri posts.

DTS , @halfwayhearted @sakashq @hrts4havertz @joaoflms @spidybaby @gadriezmannsgirl @unx100to !

#pedri gonzalez #pedri gonzalez x you #pedri gonzalez one shot #pedri gonzalez x reader #pedri gonzalez imagine #pedri imagine #pedri x y/n #pedri x you #blurb #football #angst #pedri gonzalez angst #fc barcelona

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scurvgirl · 1 day ago

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Learning about my Rook through banter. Just a little self-indulgent writing.

Bellara: So...you're Dalish, right?

Rook: Yep.

Bellara: But...you don't have Vallaslin.

Rook: I don't.

Bellara: Did you leave before you could get it?

Rook: No. My father isn't Dalish, and I was born in a city - I joined my mother's clan later. Didn't feel like the Vallaslin would suit me at the time.

Bellara: Oh.

Lucanis: Rook, what foods would you like prepared?

Rook: Anything really. Dalish, Free Marches, Tevinter, any kind of sea food.

Lucanis: Good to know.

Rook: You know, Taash, you don't have to choose to be Qunari or Rivaini.

Taash: What, you think I don't know that?

Rook: Hold your dragons. I'm saying - I'm Dalish and from a city. I respect the Vhenadahl and the halla. I sang prayers to Andraste and to the creators...before, you know, we knew shit.

Taash: Okay.

Rook: It's all important, and...you're all of it, put together into a unique experience of yourself.

Taash: I'll think about it.

Neve: Alright, your accent is not Tevinter, Antivan, Fereldan, or Orlesian. You're a Marcher.

Rook: She's found me out!

Neve: Now to figure out where.

Rook: Do you want me to tell you or is it more fun for you to put the clues together?

Neve: Don't tell me.

Rook: Fucking Venatori!

Harding: You really hate them.

Rook: Assholes kill people and use my gods as a fucking excuse.

Harding: You made that one explode.

Rook: Yeah, well, sometimes we deal with personal shit by exploding an evil shithead.

Neve: I've got it.

Rook: Oh do tell!

Neve: Kirkwall - Varric recruited you, told you to keep where you're from a secret.

Rook: Good thought but nope. Not from Kirkwall, and thank goodness for that.

Neve: Dammit.

Lucanis: You're quite good with that blade Rook. Who taught you?

Rook: My mother. She's a very skilled swordswoman. All of her kids are mages but she insisted we all learn how to defend ourselves with weaponry against Templars.

Lucanis: Smart woman. You have siblings?

Rook: Yeah, two older brothers.

Lucanis: Why am I not surprised you're the baby?

Rook: Because I am baby.

Bellara: I don't understand. Why not get the Vallaslin?

Rook: My clan was informed of its true meaning. My keeper started offering everyone a choice.

Bellara: True meaning?

Rook: Slave markings, apparently. Makes sense now with what we know of the gods.

Bellara: That's horrible!

Rook: My brother decided to get his despite that. He said "Whatever they were, they are now how we find each other. How we take pride in who we are." I didn't feel ready. I don't know if I will ever feel ready.

Bellara: That...makes a lot of sense, actually. Thank you.

Davrin: You saw the Inquisitor, right?

Rook: Yeah. For someone who has been fighting for so long, she looked great.

Davrin: She's like you - Dalish but no Vallaslin.

Rook: There's a few of us out there.

Davrin: I wonder how she got rid of it.

Rook: Ah. Don't like Ghilan'nain's design upon you?

Davrin: Most days it doesn't bother me, but some days...it makes my skin crawl.

Rook: I'll try to ask her next time I see her.

Neve: Alright. You don't have Vallaslin because your clan found out information about them from ancient times. You showed an odd familiarity with the inquisitor. You said you are both Dalish and from a city. You hate the Venatori. You're from Wycome.

Rook: Huzzah! You discovered it!

Neve: You were there when the Venatori tried to take over.

Rook: They poisoned our wells. Blamed the elves in the alienage. They killed so many.

Neve: That means your mother was from clan Lavellan - the same clan the Inquisitor was from.

Rook: That would be my clan.

Neve: No wonder Varric gave you a code name and made it so hard to find anything out about you.

Rook: I was twelve when Miriel, I mean, the Inquisitor, left the clan. We were so proud of her, and so worried for her. When she came back...without her Vallaslin...there was a lot of heartbreak that day.

Solas: You knew the Inquisitor.

Rook: I did. And you broke her heart.

Solas: I didn't have a choice.

Rook: From what she's said - you did. You just chose wrong.

#rook #asarla rook #asarla lavellan #dragon age #dragon age the veilguard #veilguard #scurv writes

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zyafics-recs · 2 days ago

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reblogging comment review from @zyafics

it’s 6:47am and i went “why not” so here i am reading ⬇️

You were home.

PAUSE DID I MISS SOMETHING

god this paragraph eats ur descriptions 🤌🏼 (the amber liquid, the droplets on the floor? yeahhh i know u ate with that)

It was Rafe.

ohmygod im spiraling right now

what if she runs away (i would eat that up🤭)

Sleeping around—no, not just sleeping, practically baring your soul to one of the people that had destroyed your life? That had taunted and beaten your brother? Your friends? That killed a cop and got away with it? The thoughts circled in your mind, relentless and unforgiving. The cool night air was a temporary relief, but it couldn’t wash away the shame eating you alive. How did it come to this? How did you go from hating Rafe to being tangled up with him like this?

why am i so scared of the upcoming angst

Maybe you were holding on to the only person who managed to pull you out of Ward’s grasp, fooling yourself into finding some good in someone who had caused so much pain.

stockholm syndrome (it’s not… i think)

Rafe's voice cut through the air, his tone urgent, "How the fuck did you not see her leave? Did someone take her?”

he’s so protective of her i’m so in love 💍

Rafe's head snapped up, his blue eyes widening in relief as he caught sight of you. "Thank God," he breathed, his shoulders visibly relaxing, “Fucking hell, Maybank.”

THE FUCKING BUTTERFLIES 🦋

His arms were around you in an instant, his warmth enveloping you. His hands rested gently on your back; fingers splayed wide. For a moment, you allowed yourself to lean into his embrace for the last time, the tension in your shoulders easing ever so slightly. Barely looking at him, you pushed him away, your movements sharp. His hands fell away from you, confusion flickering across his features like a shadow passing over the sun. The hurt in his eyes cut through you like a punch, but you couldn’t bring yourself to dwell on it.

STOP STOP STOP

You hated the fact you could pinpoint the sincerity in his voice so easily. It nearly killed you.

LET HIM IN PLS 🛐🛐

“It was a mistake.”

i’m actually holding my breath pls gigi let me breathe 😭😭😭

Rafe could act cold and stoic all he wanted; you could hear the hurt in his voice and sense the sadness in the words. He sounded broken.

"You're angry,” Your mouth ran dry, your heart lurching into your throat. "I’m sorry.”

"Sorry?" he seethed, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down your spine, "Angry? You think you mean enough to me to make me angry?"

SHUT UP RAFE

“Stop it,” Your voice broke a little, fighting the waterworks that were threatening to run down your cheeks, “Stop making it sound like it meant nothing to you.”

no bc i would lose it in that room (absolutely go kill bill or disney princess cry idk yet)

“And whose fault is that? Hmm? You said you didn’t want to stop. You wanted it, you wanted me.”

You staggered back, feeling as if the ground beneath your feet was shifting, uncertain, and unsteady.

"I wanted it," Rafe repeated, fingers digging into his chest, his voice raw with emotion, "I wanted you."

the way my stomach rolled oh my god u r incredible at creating emotions

The anger that had driven him was gone, replaced by a hollow, almost haunted look

love the description of haunted had to take a sec to think what that is

He finally looked at you, his eyes bloodshot and filled with a mix of pain and regret. “I... I couldn’t stay away,” he slurred, his words thick with the effects of too much alcohol. “I tried, but...”

RAFE MY ANNOYINGLY POOR BABY

“It’s not, Maybank. I’ve done enough damage for a lifetime. It’s the reason why you’re sleeping on the other side of the bed instead of right next to me.”

actually stop hurting me pls and thank u

It took you hours to fall asleep. You lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, the events of the past weeks replaying in your mind. You thought of Rafe, of the hurt in his eyes, the way he had looked at you like you were the only thing keeping him tethered to reality.

THE ONLY THING KEEPING HIM TETHERED TO REALITY STFU UP

Rafe’s gaze flicked to you as if he was memorizing your features, from your eyes down to your lips. You could see the gears turning inside his brain and it made you sick to your stomach when he took a deep breath, his eyes hardening with resolve, “Run.”

STOP MY HEART IS RACING 🫨

Without thinking, you ran to Rafe, your heart pounding with fear and relief. His arms wrapped around you tightly, and gently pulled you back, his eyes searching yours to make sure you were okay, but before you could assure him you were fine, he kissed you. His lips pressed firmly against yours, and you felt his tongue gently parting your lips, exploring with a tenderness that made your knees weak. It felt so…real, it nearly brought you to your knees. As cheesy as it sounded, it felt like time stood still for you, the rest of the world ceasing to exist.

ITS LIKE A CRIMINAL LOVE STORY PLS 😭

“Baby, you—“ he coughed, blood seeping through his teeth, "You gotta go home.”

STOP STOP STOP STOP

“I’m not leaving without him,” You made the mistake to glance back one last time, your heart breaking as you saw Rafe's eyes close, his body slumping against the ground, “No, no, no! Keep your eyes open, I swear to god—” Your hands trembled as you tried to staunch the flow of blood with your already stained clothing, "Stay with me," you pleaded, your voice cracking.

i’m actually gonna kill u gigi u have no idea

As you were led out of the police station and into a waiting car, your mind raced with thoughts of him, lying in a hospital bed, fighting for his life, by himself. You couldn't bear the thought of him waking up alone, without knowing that you were there for him.

If he ever woke up.

for once in ur life i need u to be crazy and jump the car

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

FINAL THOUGHTS | omg. OHMYGOD??? okay one thing i absolutely love about this chapter is your emotional development and connection. the way that reader had to pull back because of her nightmare, because of what it means to be with rafe in the real world, the way she withdraws from him and it hurts him until they get to that argument. and that ARGUMENT; rafe being vulnerable while also pushing back, while also being sharp and anger? that PIERCED MY SOUL because u did it so well i actually held my breath and stopped breathing and just stared at how well u managed to capture emotional moments without exaggerating it. then then, him looking at her face trying to memorize her features before telling her to run? to kissing her because he couldn’t stand it anymore? screaming. AND THEN HE GOT FUCKING SHOT?? i saw spoilers that he got shot but i was so wrapped in the story i FORGOT 😭 it literally took me out 😭😭😭 I NEED HER TO JUMP OUT THE COP CAR OR SOMETHING PLS STAY WITH HIM 😭

THE OTHER SIDE OF PARADISE - rafe cameron (+18) - four

request: "a rafe enemies to lovers 🫣 the reader is jjs sister the whole drama before but then she gets left behind on the ship and rafe ends up comforting her and then yea that’s all I got you can do whatever else the rest 😛"

warnings: angst; gun violence; blood;

word count: 7.1k

You woke up confused staring at the oddly familiar ceiling, filled with posters ripped from the old magazines you’d gotten at a second-hand store. When you were sixteen is sounded like a great edgy idea.

You were home.

What the—? How?

Sitting up, the room felt stifling, the air thick with the stale smell of old wood and the faintest hint of your father’s cigarette smoke, a scent you had hoped never to encounter again. The heavy feeling in your chest wasn’t just the dread of being back; it was the oppressive memories flooding back, threatening to drown you.

The sound of a muffled argument seeped through the thin walls, pulling you back to the present.

Your heart pounded in your ears as you recognized the angry, slurred voice of your father.

He was shouting at someone, probably your brother, just like he used to. The familiar clinking of bottles and the crash of something being thrown sent a shiver down your spine.

No. This wasn't real. This couldn’t be real.

You swung your legs over the side of the bed, feeling the rough carpet under your feet, grounding yourself in the moment. You stood up shakily, each step toward the door feeling heavier than the last. The hallway stretched out before you, longer than it should have been, and the flickering light cast eerie shadows on the peeling wallpaper.

As you approached the living room, the noise grew louder, more distinct. Your father’s voice, filled with venom and rage, cut through you like a knife. You reached the doorway and peered in, your breath catching in your throat. There he was, towering over your JJ, his face twisted in anger. Your little brother was cowering, trying to make himself as small as possible, his eyes filled with fear. The scene was a haunting echo of so many nights you’d tried to forget.

“No,” you whispered, fear and anger bubbling up inside you. “This isn’t happening.”

But it was.

Your father, with his disheveled hair and red-rimmed eyes, swung the bottle in his hand dangerously close to JJ’s head. Each wave of the bottle sent droplets of amber liquid flying, dotting the floor like gruesome confetti. JJ flinched with every movement, tears streaming down his cheeks, and the sight made your heart ache.

“Get out of my sight, you worthless—” your father roared, his voice a terrifying growl.

“No!” you screamed, stepping into the room before you even realized you were moving. “Stop it!”

Your father turned, his bloodshot eyes narrowing as they focused on you. For a moment, there was a flicker of confusion, as if he couldn’t quite believe you were standing there.

Then, recognition set in, and his scowl deepened.

“You,” he spat, the word laced with bitterness. “You think you can just walk back in here and tell me what to do?”

The room seemed to shrink around you, the walls closing in, suffocating. But you couldn’t back down, not now. Not ever again.

“Leave him alone,” you said, your voice trembling, “He’s a child!”

Your father took a menacing step toward you, the bottle still clutched in his hand. “You’ve got some nerve, coming back here and talking to me like that. Looking exactly like her!”

Every instinct screamed at you to run, but you stood your ground. “I’m not afraid of you Luke,” you lied, your voice barely above a whisper.

His eyes flashed with anger, and he raised the bottle, ready to strike. You braced yourself, every muscle tensed, waiting for the blow.

“Dad, please!” JJ’s voice broke through the tension, small and desperate.

“Don’t hurt her.”

The plea hung in the air, a fragile thread that seemed to hold back the storm for just a moment. Your father’s hand wavered, his eyes darting between you and JJ.

Then, with a roar of frustration, he threw the bottle against the wall, where it shattered into a thousand pieces. The crash echoed through the house, a final, violent punctuation to the nightmare unfolding around you.

“You’re a coward, you know that? Hitting on your own children. You’re trash.” you spat out, the words flying from your mouth before you could stop them.

His face twisted, “What did you say to me?” He lunged at you, his hands going straight for your throat. Fear surged through you as his fingers tightened, cutting off your air supply. Your hands flew up to try and pry his grip loose, but he was too strong, too relentless, too driven.

Black spots began to dance at the edges of your vision. You struggled, gasping for breath, but his grip only tightened. The room started to spin, and just as you thought you might pass out, his face began to shift, blurring and changing. You blinked, trying to clear your vision, and when you opened your eyes again, it was no longer your father choking you.

It was Rafe.

Rafe's face, with a sickening grin, loomed over you. His eyes, filled with a cold, calculating malice, bore into yours. “You thought I’d be any different?” he sneered. “You signed your death sentence, pogue.”

The terror was overwhelming, a wave of cold dread washing over you.

Your heart pounded frantically against your ribs, but you couldn’t scream, couldn’t call for help. His grip was like iron, unyielding and merciless.

You fought against him with all your strength, but it felt like trying to move through quicksand. Every movement was sluggish, every attempt to break free met with resistance. The walls around you seemed to close in, the room becoming a claustrophobic prison.

As the edges of your vision began to fade, a new sound cut through the suffocating haze – JJ’s voice, calling your name. “Sis! Please, wake up! Wake up!”

With a final, desperate burst of energy, you tore yourself away from Rafe, his grip suddenly gone. You were falling, tumbling through darkness, and then–

You jolted awake, gasping for breath, your body drenched in sweat. The familiar ceiling of the motel room came into focus. The terror of the nightmare clung to you, and it made it hard to breathe.

Your hands went to your throat, feeling for bruises that weren’t there. It was just a dream, you told yourself, trying to calm your racing heart. Just a nightmare.

As your breath began to steady, you turned your head, feeling the sheets rustle against your skin.

The dim light of the room cast long shadows, and your heart sank when you saw Rafe lying next to you, his chest rising and falling in a deep, peaceful slumber. He was naked, his body partially covered by the sheets, a stark reminder of what you’d done hours ago.

You felt a surge of nausea, your stomach churning with revulsion of yourself. The nightmare still clung to you, the vivid memories of his hands around your throat making it hard to reconcile the image of him sleeping so peacefully. You quietly slipped out of bed, trying not to wake him, and grabbed your clothes, dressing quickly.

Standing in the small bathroom, you splashed cold water on your face, trying to wash away the remnants of the dream. The coolness against your skin brought a brief sense of clarity, but it didn’t banish the lingering sense of dread. You looked at yourself in the mirror, your reflection pale and haunted.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. You had to get out of here, clear your head, and figure out what to do next. Slipping out of the bathroom, you grabbed your keys from the nightstand, sneaking one last look at Rafe. He was still asleep, completely unaware of the fear inside you.

The motel hallway was dark and quiet, with the faint hum of the vending machine being the only noise. You made your way to the exit, and the cool night air hit you like a splash of reality. It felt like you were stepping out of one world and into another, the contrast so stark and jarring.

You took a few more steps, but your vision blurred, and you felt lightheaded. You slumped against the wall, struggling to catch your breath.

The panic attack hit you full force, your chest tightening, and your mind racing. You couldn't let Rafe see you like this. You couldn't let anyone see you like this. You sank to the floor, hugging your knees to your chest, trying to focus on something, anything, to calm yourself down. You started counting your breaths, focusing on each inhale and exhale, trying to slow your racing heart. You thought of JJ, of how much he needed you to be strong. You couldn't fall apart now, not when there was so much at stake.

You kept counting, kept breathing, the cool air helping to clear your head. Slowly, the tightness in your chest began to ease. The world started to come back into focus, the shadows in the hallway retreating.

You wiped away the tears that had slipped down your cheeks and stood up, feeling a little more in control.

You thought of JJ, of your friends, the people who had been there for you through everything. They’d never understand.

Hell, you didn’t even understand it yourself. You stopped and leaned against a lamppost, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. You had to sort through this mess, had to figure out what was real and what was just the lingering effects of captivity and longing. Maybe you were holding on to the only person who managed to pull you out of Ward’s grasp, fooling yourself into finding some good in someone who had caused so much pain.

An hour later, you made your way back to the motel. Each step felt like a struggle, the guilt and self-doubt threatening to consume you entirely. You couldn't shake the feeling that you'd betrayed everything you stood for by letting Rafe into your life, even if it was just for a moment of weakness.

As you approached the entrance, you saw him standing at the front desk, looking worried and disheveled. He must have just woken up, throwing on some shorts in a hurry. His expression was tense as he spoke to the front desk guy, hands moving rapidly, gesturing around.

Your pulse pounded as you walked in, not sure of what to say, what to do, how to approach him. The memory of the nightmare still lingered, haunting you like a specter refusing to be exorcised.

Rafe's voice cut through the air, his tone urgent, "How the fuck did you not see her leave? Did someone take her?”

The front desk guy shook his head, his expression apologetic. "I apologize sir, but I haven't seen anyone come through here."

With a deep breath, you stepped forward, revealing yourself to him. "I'm here," you said quietly, voice rough from not speaking since you woke up.

Rafe's head snapped up, his blue eyes widening in relief as he caught sight of you. "Thank God," he breathed, his shoulders visibly relaxing, “Fucking hell, Maybank.”

You took a step back, putting some distance between you and Rafe, needing the space to breathe, to think, to figure out what comes next.

Your gaze flickered to the floor, unable to meet his eyes, unable to face the consequences of your actions, "Just needed some air," you muttered, your voice barely audible even to yourself, “Sorry for not leaving a note.”

Rafe's expression shifted from relief to concern as he watched you, his brows furrowing with worry.

"You okay?"

You couldn’t bring yourself to meet his gaze, "I'm fine," you replied, your voice lacking conviction even to your own ears. "Just felt a little nauseous.”

His hand reached out tentatively as if he wanted to comfort you, but he hesitated, letting it fall back to his side. “I just woke up and you were gone, and I...I panicked."

You hated the fact you could pinpoint the sincerity in his voice so easily. It nearly killed you.

“We should go back.”

"Will you... will you be okay?" he asked, his voice hesitant.

You nodded, trying to muster up a reassuring smile, but it felt hollow and insincere. "I'll be fine," you lied, the words tasted bitter on your tongue, “Just need some rest.”

“Okay. Okay, yeah, let’s go back.”

As you stepped inside the room, the early sunlight washed over Rafe's face, highlighting the worry etched into his features. He watched you carefully, as if afraid you would’ve disappeared again at any moment. He tried to reach out and grab your arm, but you moved too quickly, and he was left grasping air.

You offered him a weak smile, ignoring the look on his face, "I'm sorry for leaving like that," you said, your voice tinged with genuine regret. "I’m fine.”

You didn’t think he believed you. He was watching you so closely. He took in how disheveled you looked. The mess of your hair, and barely laced-up shoes so you could get out the door faster. Rafe’s eyes pierce into your own, searching them for something as he took a deep breath to calm himself.

It took several tense moments before he finally spoke, “Is this about last night?”

Your body froze, panic taking over every single one of your muscles. What were you supposed to tell him? Lie? Tell him the truth and make him hate himself even more? Keep your pain down to hold his?

“It was a mistake.”

You went straight to the chase.

He stalked closer to you, and you took a step back reflexively, “A mistake?” he echoed between labored breaths, “A mistake?”

“Yeah," you stammered, trying to articulate your thoughts, "It's not right. We, we're just lonely."

You despised yourself for even hinting at it, but the tumultuous month spent with him had been bewildering, to say the least. You questioned whether you were truly good for each other.

"I thought..." he began, his voice trailing off as he struggled to find the right words.

The pain in his voice pierced your skin, a reminder of the consequences of your actions. But you needed to put yourself first.

“I’m sorry.”

Rafe's face contorted, his features tightening into a mask of disbelief. And you couldn’t blame him for whatever he was about to unleash on you.

“So, what? You're just gonna walk away?" He tried to bark, but his voice quivered from grief, “Stop looking at me?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” He scoffed, lips twisting into a sneer, as he started to pace around the room, his movements restless and agitated. “That’s funny.”

Rafe could act cold and stoic all he wanted; you could hear the hurt in your voice and sense the sadness in the words. He sounded broken.

"You're angry,” Your mouth ran dry, your heart lurching into your throat. "I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” he seethed, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down your spine, “Angry? You think you mean enough to me to make me angry?”

His words struck you like a physical blow, a slap to the face. You recoiled instinctively, the weight of his fury bearing down on you.

"I don't know what I mean to you," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper as you struggled to maintain your composure. "I just know that I can't keep doing this."

Rafe's laughter was bitter and mocking, a harsh sound that echoed off the walls of the room.

"Can't keep doing this?" he repeated, his voice laced with derision. "And what, exactly, is 'this'? Fucking? You can’t even say it.”

“You’re being an asshole.”

"An asshole?" he spat, "Is that what you think of me?"

You held his gaze, refusing to back down despite the hurting coursing through your veins. "You're acting like one.”

“Maybank,” His voice was still harsh as he lowered his head to try and meet your eyes. He was close enough that you were able to smell him, "You don't know anything about me, remember? Maybe the fucking really did confuse you.”

“Stop it,” Your voice broke a little, fighting the waterworks that were threatening to run down your cheeks, “Stop making it sound like it meant nothing to you.”

His eyes shut tightly, “Why are you doing this?”

“Because it’s wrong! Rafe—don’t you see it? I can’t do this, not with you of all fucking people, okay?”

He looked down at the carpet, a look of shame falling over his features as he ran a hand over his face, “You knew who I was since the beginning.”

You felt a surge of frustration rising within you, mingling with the anguish that threatened to overwhelm your senses. "Yeah, and every time I look at you now, I see everything that's wrong with me."

“And whose fault is that? Hmm? You said you didn’t want to stop. You wanted it, you wanted me.”

You staggered back, feeling as if the ground beneath your feet was shifting, uncertain, and unsteady.

"I wanted it," Rafe repeated, fingers digging into his chest, his voice raw with emotion, "I wanted you."

The admission hung in the air between you, everything left unsaid. You wanted to reach out to him, hug him as you had just hours ago, but you knew you couldn’t.

“We can’t.”

His eyes were slightly dewy, a somewhat defeated look to his gaze as he walked towards the door.

“Well, congrats Maybank. You won.”

The sound of the door slamming echoed through the room, the finality of it hitting you like a punch to the gut. You stood there, motionless, as the silence enveloped you. The weight of everything that had just transpired pressed down on your shoulders, threatening to crush you.

You sank to the floor, your back against the wall, and the tears came in a torrent. Sobs wracked your body, each one more painful than the last, as the reality of your situation washed over you. You had pushed him away, and hurt him, but what other choice did you have?

The quiet was almost eerie.

You couldn't deny that you had felt something for Rafe, something more than just anger and resentment.

But it was twisted, born out of shared trauma and desperation, wasn’t it? Wiping your tear-streaked face with trembling hands, you tried to gather yourself. You still needed to get home. In five days. How the fuck were you going to live in the same room with Rafe for five days after what went down? You couldn’t, you needed the money to pay off the men taking you back home.

You sat on the motel room floor for what felt like hours, the silence pressing in on you.

The weight of your words, of the confrontation, was suffocating. Eventually, exhaustion won out, and you crawled into bed, your mind too restless to allow for more than fitful dozing.

It was around 4 a.m. when the door to the motel room creaked open, startling you awake. You sat up, your heart pounding, straining to see in the dark. The figure that stumbled through the door was unmistakable: Rafe. His movements were unsteady, his clothes disheveled, and the sharp scent of alcohol hit you even from across the room.

“Rafe?”

He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he leaned heavily against the doorframe, his eyes unfocused. He looked lost.

The anger that had driven him was gone, replaced by a hollow, almost haunted look. You had done that to him. You got out of bed, approaching him cautiously.

“What are you doing?” you asked, your voice tinged with worry.

You sighed, the concern battling within you.

“Rafe, you’re drunk. You need to sit down.”

He let you guide him to the bed, his body heavy and uncooperative. Once he was seated, you grabbed a bottle of water from the small table and handed it to him.

“Drink this,” you instructed.

He took a sip, his hands shaking slightly. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, staring down at the floor. “For everything.”

It was the first time he ever apologized to you. You didn’t know what to say. Part of you wanted to comfort him, to tell him it was okay, but another part of you was still reeling from the emotional whirlwind of the past few days.

“You need to sleep this off,” you said instead, trying to keep your voice steady.

He nodded but didn’t move. Instead, he reached out, his hand brushing against yours. “I don’t want to be like him,” he confessed, “I can't."

If you allowed him to keep sputtering out his drunken thoughts you would’ve ended up crying your eyes out again, so instead you squeezed his hand, “Let’s just sleep, okay?”

He nodded again, his eyes drifting shut as the exhaustion and alcohol finally took their toll. You helped him lie down, covering him with the sheets. As you laid back down, you watched Rafe’s breathing even out, his face softening in sleep.

The next few days passed in a blur of tension and silence. That night?

It never happened.

Rafe didn’t spare you a glance from the moment he woke up, choosing to care for his hangover by himself. You and he moved around each other like ghosts, the motel room becoming a prison. You barely slept, the nightmares coming back with a vengeance, leaving you exhausted and on edge.

Every time you closed your eyes, you saw your father, Rafe, or the haunting echoes of your past, blending into a relentless cycle of fear and regret. You knew he’d been having nightmares as well, but you pretended to be asleep every time he woke up, chest heaving.

He seemed so caught in his torment. You could see it in the way he clenched his jaw, the way his hands would flex into fists and then relax as if he was battling some inner demon. He avoided you, constantly, and when he did speak, his words were clipped and distant. Your shared meals were silent, the clinking of cutlery the only sound breaking the oppressive quiet.

Even the TV stayed off.

On the fifth night, you lay awake in the dark, listening to the rhythm of Rafe's breathing from the other bed. It was uneven, indicating he was also awake.

“You’re not gonna end up like him.”

Rafe's breathing hitched, and you could almost feel his eyes on you through the darkness.

"I mean it," you continued, turning slightly to face his silhouette. "You're not your father, Rafe."

He didn't respond immediately, but you sensed a shift in the atmosphere, a subtle change in his posture. Finally, he sighed, the sound heavy and laden with years of unspoken fears and insecurities.

"How can you be so sure?" he murmured, his voice raw.

You took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. "Because I've seen you. I've seen the parts of you that fight against becoming him. The parts that want to be better. And that matters."

He let out a bitter laugh. "I'm not sure it’s enough.”

“It is.”

“It’s not, Maybank. I’ve done enough damage for a lifetime. It’s the reason why you’re sleeping on the other side of the bed instead of right next to me.”

You wanted to reach out, to reassure him that he wasn’t alone, but you knew it wasn’t that simple.

“I’m still here,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “And I’m not leaving.”

“You already did.”

Ouch.

Before you could utter a single word, he turned his back to you.

“We’re leaving tomorrow. Sleep.”

“Rafe—”

“Goodnight.”

The next morning, you didn’t bother much with packing, only shoving the pieces of clothing you’d collected in a backpack. It felt torturous, to be so close to Rafe yet so far away. He didn’t speak a word as he packed his things, his movements stiff and mechanical. You wanted to break the silence, but every time you opened your mouth, the words seemed to stick in your throat. The taxi drive to the port was just as unbearable. You stared out the window, watching the landscape blur past, your mind racing with thoughts of what could have been, what should have been.

Once you arrived, you and Rafe stepped out, the silence between you as impenetrable as ever. The boat that would take you both back home loomed ahead. He took the lead, heading towards the ticket booth with his shoulders hunched, and you followed, your steps heavy with reluctance.

You were still scared shitless of those men. They were only helping you because at some point Rafe had helped them smuggle drugs into the States, and that did not leave you the least bit reassured over their intentions.

Finding a spot on the deck, you both settled into a tense silence, the hum of the boat’s engine and the cries of seagulls filling the void between you. The sun was beginning to rise, casting a golden hue over the water, but the beauty of the scene did little to ease the knot of anxiety tightening in your chest.

He leaned against the railing, his gaze fixed on the horizon, his face a mask void of any emotion.

You watched him for a moment, torn between wanting to reach out to him and the fear that doing so would only make things worse.

Finally, unable to bear the silence any longer, you cleared your throat. “Rafe,” you began hesitantly, “I—”

Before you could finish, he turned to you, his expression weary. “We don’t have to talk about it,” he said, his voice flat. “Not now.”

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Okay.”

“Just stay low, stay quiet. My dad got eyes everywhere.”

From the corner of your eye you spotted one of the men. Tall, burly, with a scar running down his cheek. He simply nodded towards the cargo boat and for a minute you’re taken back to your first day stuck with the Cameron’s, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was about to go terribly wrong.

Rafe walked in front of you again, entering the ship, rounding his way through the halls behind the sketchy guy, only stopping when he knocked on a door, after a moment, it swung open to reveal a bald shot man, eyes way too big for his face, which flicked over you and Rafe, a predatory smile curling his lips.

“Well, well, look who decided to show up,” he drawled, his voice laced with mockery. “You’re late.”

“Had some complications,” Rafe replied curtly, his posture tense.

The man’s smile widened. “Complications, huh? Well, come on in”

You followed Rafe inside, your heart racing. The interior of the room was pretty dark, the air thick with the smell of smoke and something you couldn’t quite identify. Nor did you want to.

“Rafe,” the older man said, his voice cold and commanding. “I was starting to think you’d forgotten about our arrangement.”

“Never,” Rafe replied, his tone clipped. “I brought the money.”

He handed over a thick envelope, and the man behind the desk took it, flipping through the bills with a practiced eye. After a moment, he nodded, satisfied.

“Good,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “Now, let’s discuss the other part of our deal.”

Rafe stiffened. “I told you, I’m out. I’m not running anything for you anymore.”

The man’s eyes narrowed, his smile turning dangerous. “I don’t think you understand. You don’t get to just walk away.”

You felt a chill run down your spine as the tension in the room escalated. The man behind the desk stood up, his gaze shifting to you.

“And who’s this?” he asked, his tone menacing.

“No one,” Rafe said quickly. “She has nothing to do with this.”

The man chuckled, a low, sinister sound. “Oh, I think she has everything to do with this.”

He took a step towards you, and instinctively, you backed away, your heart pounding in your chest. Rafe moved to place himself between you and the older man, his jaw clenched.

“Leave her out of this.”

“You see, your daddy dearest called in last night. Told me about a loose piece he had to get rid off…a pretty one. Guess this is her?”

"That's none of your business," Rafe growled, his voice filled with a warning, body still shielding yours.

The older man laughed, the sound grating against your nerves. "Oh, but it is my business, Rafe. You see, your daddy and I, we go way back. And when he asks for a favor, I don't say no."

You felt a surge of terror at his words, your mind racing to find a way out of this situation. "Rafe, we need to go," you whispered urgently, tugging on his arm.

He didn't move, his eyes locked on the man before him. "We're leaving," Rafe said firmly, his voice unwavering. "Now."

The man smirked, his gaze shifting between you and Rafe. "You think you can just walk out of here? You're in deep, Cameron. And now, so is she."

Rafe's jaw tightened, his hands clenching into fists. "We're not doing this.”

The older man took a step closer, his eyes gleaming with malicious intent.

"You have two choices, Rafe. You either do as I say, or she pays the price like Ward asked.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, fear coursing through your veins. You couldn't let Rafe get pulled back into this world, but you also couldn't bear the thought of what might happen if you stayed.

"Rafe, please," you pleaded, your voice trembling.

Before you could process his words, Rafe launched himself at the older man, tackling him to the ground. The suddenness of the movement caught everyone off guard, but you knew you had to act quickly. Heart pounding, you turned and bolted out of the room, dropping your backpack in the process, your footsteps echoing down the dimly lit corridor.

Behind you, you could hear the sounds of struggle—grunts, crashes, and the thud of bodies hitting the floor. You didn’t dare look back, knowing that every second counted. Rafe had told you to run.

The ship's layout was confusing, with identical-looking hallways and doors leading to who-knew-where. You sprinted through the maze of metal and dim lights, your breath coming in ragged gasps. The distant sound of shouting and commotion indicated that the fight was far from over. You turned a corner and collided with one of the burly men from earlier. He grabbed your arm, his grip like a vise.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he snarled.

Panic surged through you, but you fought it down, remembering the self-defense moves Rafe had taught you back at Ward’s island. You stomped on his foot and jabbed your elbow into his ribs, wrenching your arm free as he grunted in pain. Without wasting a second, you continued running, your legs burning with effort.

You burst onto the deck, the cold, salty air hitting you like a slap. The early morning light was just beginning to brighten the horizon, casting long shadows across the deck. You looked around frantically, searching for any means of escape. Your eyes landed on a lifeboat secured to the side of the ship. Without hesitation, you made your way towards it, fumbling with the ropes that held it in place. Your fingers were shaking, but you managed to free the boat. As you were about to lower it into the water, a rough hand grabbed your shoulder and spun you around. It was the man with the scar, his face twisted in anger.

“Going somewhere?” he sneered.

You tried to fight him off, but he was too strong.

Just when you thought all hope was lost, a loud bang echoed across the deck. The man with the scar froze, his grip loosening. You took the opportunity to break free, scrambling away from him.

Rafe stood at the entrance to the deck, a gun in his hand and determination in his eyes. The man with the scar raised his hands slowly, backing away.

“You okay?” Rafe asked, his voice tight with concern.

“I think so.”

“Come here.”

Until reality broke you again.

Rafe's body tensed suddenly. You heard a muffled sound, like a distant pop, but it took a moment for your mind to register what had happened. His grip on you loosened, and he staggered, his breath hitching in pain.

No, no, no, no.

"Rafe?” You caught him as he fell to his knees, eyes darting around, searching for the source of the shot. Your eyes nearly popped out of your head as you watched a showdown between the so-called human traffickers and the fucking police. This had to be a fucking nightmare, no way, were you getting caught in a crossfire.

Rafe clutched his side, blood seeping through his fingers, staining his white shirt. His face was scarily pale, and he struggled to stay upright.

"You need to...get out of here," he managed to say, his voice strained, “Right now.”

“I’m not leaving you, you fuckin—Shit, Rafe. Fuck!” You looked around frantically, your heart pounding in your chest. The island, which had seemed like a safe haven moments ago, now felt like a trap. "Can you walk?" you asked, trying to keep the panic from your voice.

“Does it look like I can walk, pretty Maybank?”

A sob broke through you, “Don’t try to be fucking funny, you got shot!”

“Baby, you—“ he coughed, blood seeping through his teeth, "You gotta go home.”

"Stop talking!" you repeated, your voice trembling with desperation. You looked around again, trying to find a way out, a way to save him, anything. But the chaos around you was overwhelming. The police and the traffickers were engaged in a fierce shootout, bullets whizzing through the air, ricocheting off metal, and splintering wood.

Rafe's hand tightened weakly around yours.

"Listen to me," he said, his voice just a whisper. "You have to...Go gome."

Tears streamed down your face as you shook your head. "I can't leave you here."

You knew you had to move, had to find help, but leaving him there felt like tearing your heart out. As you turned to peek around one final time, you heard a shout from behind you. "Freeze!" a police officer yelled, his gun trained on you.

You stopped, your hands raised, your mind racing. "Please, help him," you begged, pointing to Rafe. "He's been shot."

The officer's eyes flicked to Rafe, then back to you. "We need to secure the area first," he said, his tone firm but not unkind.

"Please," you repeated, your voice breaking. "He's dying."

The officer hesitated, then spoke into his radio. "Officer down, need medical assistance immediately."

Another officer approached, his gun drawn, and you saw his gaze soften as he took in Rafe's condition. "We'll get him help," he assured you, "but we need to get you out of here safely."

His eyes fluttered open briefly, a weak smile touching his lips.

"You... have to... go," he whispered, his breath coming in shallow gasps, "Go."

Before you could respond, you felt strong hands grip your shoulders, pulling you back. "We need to get you to safety," one of the officers said firmly, trying to drag you away from Rafe.

"No! Let me go! I can't leave him!" you screamed, fighting against their hold.

"Ma'am, we need to get you out of the line of fire," the officer insisted, his grip tightening as he pulled you to your feet.

Through your tears, you saw more officers surrounding Rafe, their voices urgent as they called for medical assistance. You watched helplessly as they began to administer first aid, their movements efficient but hurried. As the officers dragged you away against your will, your eyes never left Rafe.

You struggled against their hold, but their grip was unyielding. "Please, don't let him die," you sobbed, your voice breaking with despair.

"We're doing everything we can," one of the officers reassured you, guiding you towards the edge of the deck where a police boat was waiting.

You stumbled, your legs weak with fear and exhaustion, but the officers held you steady. As you were helped onto the police boat, you turned back one last time, your heart breaking at the sight of Rafe lying on the deck, surrounded by officers and paramedics. You clutched the railing, your knuckles white, as the boat pulled away from the ship, the distance between you and Rafe growing with each passing second.

The journey back to shore was a blur of sirens, flashing lights, and the distant sound of helicopter blades cutting through the air. The police officers tried to reassure you, but their words were lost in the whirlwind of your thoughts.

When the boat finally docked, you were met by a flurry of activity. Paramedics rushed forward, checking you for injuries, while police officers asked you questions about what had happened. You answered them mechanically, your mind still focused on Rafe, praying that he would survive. Hours seemed to pass in a haze of questions, medical checks, and statements. You told them everything. Finally, you were allowed to sit down, your body heavy with exhaustion. A police officer approached you, his expression kind but serious.

"Rafe Cameron is being taken to the hospital," he said gently. "He's in critical condition, but the paramedics are doing everything they can."

You nodded numbly, the weight of his words pressing down on you. "Can I see him?"

“’No visitors will be allowed, kid. We checked your backgrounds. If he survives, he’ll be taken into custody, his father is Ward Cameron, the feds are going to need him.”

You nearly threw up at how easily he said, “if he survives”. There couldn’t be no fucking ifs, he wasn’t dying. Not like this. Not after everything.

Your knees buckled, and you had to sit down, the reality of the situation pressing down on you like a ton of bricks. The officer helped you to a bench, his face sympathetic but firm. “I understand this is hard, but we need to follow protocol. He’s a key witness and suspect in multiple ongoing investigations.”

You nodded, your mind barely processing his words. The world felt distant, and surreal. “Can I at least know which hospital?”

The officer hesitated for a moment, then relented. “St. Michael’s. But you won’t be allowed to call until we clear things with the authorities.”

“Call? I want to visit.”

He sighed, taking a seat next to you, “Kid. I’m really sorry, but you won’t be here. You’re a kidnapping victim and there’s a direct order to take you back home, you’ve been reported missing for over a month now.”

Your mind reeled, struggling to process the officer's words. Missing? For over a month? It felt like a lifetime and no time at all had passed since you'd been caught up in this nightmare.

"I can't leave him," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "Not like this."

The officer's expression softened. "I understand, but this is out of my hands. We need to get you back to your family. They'll be worried sick."

What family?

You wanted to shout in his face. JJ was still missing for all you knew and Luke hadn't stepped foot home in months. You felt a surge of helplessness.

“I can't just leave him."

The officer looked taken aback but remained resolute. "We're going to get you home safely. You'll be able to follow up on Rafe's condition, but right now, you need to come with us."

The officer stood up, motioning for you to follow. Reluctantly, you got to your feet, every step feeling like a betrayal to Rafe.

As you were led out of the police station and into a waiting car, your mind raced with thoughts of him , lying in a hospital bed, fighting for his life, by himself. You couldn't bear the thought of him waking up alone, without knowing that you were there for him.

If he ever woke up.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron series #rafe cameron (by @itneverendshere)

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