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ak319 · 2 months ago

Note

I absolutely love your yandere Arthur stuff- though I really have the curiosity to see him suffer. I was wondering how he'd go about if the reader, in a desperate attempt to escape, ended up getting really really hurt (if she survived or not, up to you.. but make it real heart shattering please)

Thank you and keep being awesome!!

(AN: So, I got two asks (TW) relating to suicide and the other two I added cuz I thought they lined perfectly with the plot that came to my mind. So saddle up as this is going to be a tough one, do read the warnings, and also thank you to all the anons for reading and sending the asks!)

Warnings/MDNI: Suicide, angst, forced prostitution, the reader is underage. (15-16), not incest, strictly platonic, abuse// I don't condone such behaviour

It had been almost a week since you’d run, from everything that had suffocated you. An older woman in her 50s, a widow with two married daughters, had found you and decided to give you shelter. You couldn’t have been more grateful to Linda, and you even felt for her, living alone in a small house with only her animals for company. What you hadn’t expected, perhaps in your own naivety and desperation, was that choices made in haste often became someone else’s chance to shape their own life for the better.

You were dusting off a vase when you noticed two men approaching the fence on horseback. Anxiety bubbled in your stomach. Even the faint sound of hooves and the sight of those hats stirred reminders of your brother, of the camp, memories Linda knew well by now.

“Linda, there are people outside,” you said, voice tight with unease. She looked up from her book, her expression unreadable as she rose. With an air of certainty, as if she’d anticipated this, she opened the door without even glancing to see who they were.

“Good mornin’, Miss Linda.”

The men stepped inside, their eyes sweeping over the small room before landing on you, a young girl, untouched as they were told, standing tensely in the corner, cloth in hand.

“Is she the one?”

“Yes. Her name’s (Y/N),” Linda replied without hesitation, her tone strangely casual.

Your eyebrows knitted in confusion. “Um, Miss Linda?” you murmured, hoping for some explanation. But when you looked at her, the warmth she’d shown when she’d found you, empty-handed and alone, was nowhere to be found.

As their conversation continued, realization dawned painfully fast. This wasn’t an innocent meeting. She had sold you, to men who clearly had no good intentions.

“NO!” you shouted, thrashing as one of them seized you, his grip iron-tight. Panic surged through you as you struggled, tears stinging your eyes.

“HOW COULD YOU DO THIS? LINDA!” you screamed, your voice cracking. “You have daughters of your own!” But the other man quickly moved to hold you down, binding your wrists as dread washed over you. No, this can’t be real, you thought, desperately praying for a miracle, for anything.

“I don’t have daughters,” Linda replied flatly, her gaze fixed on the money roll they handed her. “I live alone. You fell right into my trap, girly, this is what I do for a living.” She didn’t even look up as they gagged you, ignoring your cries and pleas as they dragged you from her house, indifferent to your terror.

⋆⋆⋆

It had been three months since they’d dragged you into this unfamiliar place, surrounded by strangers with cold eyes and colder hearts.It was useless no matter how much you begged or how hard you fought. The punishments, the beatings, the days locked away in dank cellars, became too much to bear.

"It's always a fun challenge to tame young ones like you,"

Eventually, the fight drained out of you. Bit by bit, you surrendered. You gave up on freedom, on dignity, on every cherished memory. You tried to convince yourself it wasn’t giving up, that they had taken it from you. But deep down, you knew the people around you would laugh at that. A woman, giving in? As if you’d ever had a choice.

Even if... even if your brother somehow found you, what would he say? If he saw you here, saw all that had happened, would he forgive you for running away? He will, he will because you're the only one he has left. It was a lie you whispered to yourself just to make it through the endless nights.

But still, despite everything, you prayed. Prayed that somehow he’d find you, that he’d come and take you back. That he’d see past the shame, past the bruises and broken pieces, and remember the sister you used to be. You clung to that thin thread of hope, fragile as it was, because it was the only thing left that still felt like yours.

⋆⋆⋆

Arthur hadn’t had a moment’s peace since you disappeared. The guilt and fury festered into a dark cloud over him, filling every waking moment. Every step, every job he took on, only seemed to twist the knife deeper, because how could he even think about anything else while you were out there alone?

He lashed out at everyone. Every misstep or delay was another reminder that they’d failed to keep you safe, to keep you close. It stung him that no one had been there, that Dutch’s assurances and promises meant so little when it came down to it. The camp members bore the brunt of his fury, his paranoia that they might’ve even helped you leave simmering just beneath the surface. And though they knew better than to push back, they held their patience, trying to calm him, even if it was like talking to a wall. How could these people not take care of you? It was the only thing he had asked Dutch for in exchange for giving his all, his best with his every breath.

Still, he couldn’t rest. Every day he pushed himself, scanning faces in crowded towns, following trails that led nowhere. He’d never admit it, but he was scared, scared of what might’ve happened to you. He wouldn’t be satisfied until he saw you for himself, safe and within the bounds of camp again.

⋆⋆⋆

It was one of those days where Chief, the man who forced you to call him that, as if it somehow dignified his cruelty, had you paraded through saloons to attract new customers. The older, more experienced girls absorbed most of the men’s attention, giving you brief respites where you could linger near the corners, gaze averted, trying not to see or be seen. This was your coping mechanism: be present but remain hidden, fading into the shadows, preserving the last shreds of yourself.

Chief rarely paid attention to your position; he was usually too engrossed in gambling or drinking with his cronies to notice. So long as you didn’t step out of line or attempt an escape, an impossible feat with his guards stationed outside, he didn’t care where you lingered. For these few stolen moments, you could almost feel invisible, protected by the wall at your back and the murmur of unfamiliar voices.

And then, out of the corner of your eye, you saw him.

Charles. Right there, across the room. Your heart thundered, your breath catching in your throat. He was here, and the realization struck you like a blow. You must’ve stared too long because his eyes landed on you, recognition dawning in his gaze. You could see his shock twist into something harder, his face darkening as he took in your presence here.

His eyes were locked onto you, and he rose from his seat, his gaze sharp and unyielding, scanning every inch of you with a dawning recognition. Each step he took made your heart pound harder, a mix of disbelief and terror twisting in your chest. You couldn’t move, couldn’t even breathe, as you pressed yourself further against the wall, as though it might somehow swallow you up.

“(Y/N)...?”

His voice was low, laced with disbelief and something that almost sounded like relief, but there was no mistaking the tremor in it. Your throat tightened, and a thousand unspoken words tangled there, as if your body itself was rejecting the reality of being found.

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. Your tongue felt heavy, paralyzed by shame and fear. The silence was broken by Chief, who was now at your side oblivious to the storm brewing, chuckled and tightened his hand on your shoulder. "This is Cherry, my newest one. One of the youngest, too," he taunted, a sick grin spreading across his face. "Would you like a taste, sir?"

Charles didn’t hesitate. In an instant, he was on Chief, his fists swinging. You watched as Charles’s rage took over, each blow landing harder than the last, rendering Chief into a bloody, unrecognizable heap. The noise and chaos around you faded, replaced by a surreal, dreamlike silence.

You wanted to move, to say something, anything, but shock held you frozen. The reality was hitting you all at once, Charles had found you. After all this time, your prayers have finally been answered. But along with the relief, dread crept in. Charles was here, yes, but what about Arthur?

Arthur. The thought of facing him filled you with a hollow, bone-deep fear. What would he say? What would he do when he saw you like this?

“Arthur’s been looking for you. Day and night, he’s been looking. And he’s… well, you know how he is.” He paused, his gaze turning serious. “But he needs to see you. Needs to know you’re safe.”

"I--can't....Charles," he was the second after Arthur whom you called a brother, if this was your condition in front of him, you dreaded facing your real one.

"He...will --no, please." No, this wasn't how it was supposed to be, you should have been happy to go.

"The hell I am leaving you here!"

"Charles, no, you don’t understand!" you protested, your voice trembling as you recoiled slightly from his touch. “Arthur… he’ll be furious! He’ll-”

“He’ll be furious if he finds out you’re here, too,” Charles interjected, his tone sharp yet laced with concern. “But I can’t leave you here. You deserve better than this.”

You nodded slowly, still numb, letting him lead you outside, where the guards who usually kept watch were already scattered, backing off after seeing Charles’s wrath. He didn’t let you go, staying close as he guided you through the quiet streets.

With a final glance back at the saloon, you took his hand, feeling a mix of fear and gratitude surge through you. As you climbed onto the horse behind him, the reality of what lay ahead crashed over you like a wave.

⋆⋆⋆

All the guilt and frustration that Arthur had felt at himself and the others had now morphed into a seething fury. He could barely contain the storm brewing inside him as he stood there, fists clenched, watching Charles bring you back to camp. You stood behind him, your head bowed, and he could feel the weight of your shame even from a distance.

When Charles, with his broken and hesitant words, explained where you had been and what you had endured , Arthur felt a rush of bile rise in his throat. Hearing that you had been forced into such a degrading life, turning into a whore, no less in front of the whole camp, set off a wildfire of rage within him. It felt as if every cell in his body was screaming, torn between the desire to protect you and the urge to just shoot you and then himself.

“Why…?” he managed to croak out, his voice barely above a whisper, but the intensity of his gaze was like fire. You could only let out a whimper, too overwhelmed by shame and fear to answer.

“Arthur... it's not (Y/N)'s fault-” Charles began, trying to explain the circumstances, but Arthur cut him off sharply, the anger bubbling over.

“I AM ASKING HER, CHARLES, SO SHUT YOUR MOUTH! I ASKED YOU SOMETHING!” His voice thundered across the camp, startling the others who had gathered to witness the confrontation.

Silence fell over the clearing, all eyes on you as Arthur took a step forward, his expression a mix of pain and fury. You flinched, feeling the heat of his anger radiating off him like a tangible force.

Your heart pounded in your chest, a rabbit caught in the glare of a predator. You could see the way his fists trembled, the way his jaw clenched, and it terrified you. “I---I didn’t mean to,” you stammered, "I am s-sorry...please."

Annabelle, having enough interjected. "Let the child breathe Arthur! You are scaring her for no fucking reason! You should be happy she's been found you dumbass!"

“Stay out of this, Annabelle!” Arthur snapped, the violence in his tone making everyone around him tense. “You don’t know what she’s done. You don’t know how she’s made me suffer!”

Hosea, who had been observing quietly, spoke up as well, attempting to de-escalate the situation. “Arthur, we need to think this through. She’s back now, that’s what matters-”

But before Hosea could finish, Dutch stepped in, his voice commanding. “Enough! This isn’t helping anyone. Arthur, take a breath. We’ll sort this out, but you need to calm down.”

Arthur’s fury seemed to intensify, the frustration boiling over. “Calm down!?” he spat, eyes dark with rage. “She thinks she can run away from me, become a whore and come back like nothing happened? I’m not letting her off that easy!”

With a sudden, swift movement, he seized your arm, dragging you towards a nearby tent. You stumbled, panic rising within you as you felt the grip of his hand, the anger radiating off him like heat from a fire.

“Arthur, please!” you cried, but he didn’t respond, his jaw set in a hard line as he pulled you along, ignoring the protests from Annabelle and Hosea.

"If anyone comes near me, I am gonna gut em' alive!"

“Arthur, think about what you’re doing!” Annabelle called after you, her voice strained with concern. “You can’t just take her away like this-” Dutch silenced her with holding her shoulders. "Don't you dare go near him! He's not in his senses-"

"SO GO AND STOP HIM!"

But he was already inside the tent, and the flap fell shut behind you with a heavy finality. The moment you were alone, he released you, stepping back with a mixture of anger and desperation. “Why would you do this to me? To us?” he demanded, his voice low and intense.

You backed away and fell onto the cot. "Just...just listen and I'll explain-

"Oh really? Did you enjoy your adventures? See, I was right. This is what they fuckin' taught you , what that bitch Anne, taught you. That fuckin' school!" He grabbed you by your jaw to make you face him. That's when you saw the tint of hurt in his eyes.

“You think this is a joke? I’m a joke? You fuckin’ ran our family’s name, my name, into the mud. I can’t even--” He threw you back onto the bed, the impact rattling through your bones. “I can’t even look at you right now.”

“Arthur, I’m still me,” you whispered, through sobs. “I’m still.... your sister."

"IF YOU WERE YOU WOULD HAVE LISTENED TO ME AND STAYED HERE!"

He was right, you should have listened and stayed here, chasing your dreams only led you to more nightmares and even now, it seems there are more to face.

You could barely catch your breath, your heart pounding in your chest as you scrambled to find words that might bridge the chasm between you. Taking a shaky breath, you wiped the tears from your cheeks.

"You should be lucky I haven't shot you yet. If I was the one who found you, God knows what I would have done. Stay in this fucking tent until I say so, and don’t show me your face." His voice was low and dangerous, a growl that reverberated through the air like a thunderclap.

You flinched at his words, the truth of them hitting you like a slap. You had been trying to convince yourself that you were still worthy, still, the same person who had left the camp. But standing in front of him, the reality crashed down. You were not that person anymore, and you didn’t know how to return to her.

⋆⋆⋆

Annabelle and the others came to check on you, their voices a distant murmur as if they were speaking through water. You barely registered their presence, lost in a maze of your thoughts, every path leading back to Arthur’s harsh words. What had you expected from him? A comforting embrace? A gentle reminder that you were still his sister, despite everything?

You couldn't help but wonder if you were truly as heinous as he implied. Were you still his blood even? The questions tormented you, each one sharper than the last. You knew the truth of his overprotectiveness, it stemmed from love, from a desire to shield you from the dangers of the world. Yet here you were, the very thing he had feared, tainted by your stubborn quest for freedom and adventure.

Pushing the flap of his tent aside just enough to peek in, you caught sight of him, his back turned to you, oblivious to your presence. Just like he turned his back today on you. Funny.

With a deep breath, you stepped inside and placed the note in his satchel, the fabric brushing against your fingertips feeling heavier than it should.

You took one last glance at your brother, the weight of your choices pressing down on your heart, then slipped out of the tent, moving stealthily toward the supply wagon

When you retrieved what you needed, you returned to the privacy of your tent, the familiar space feeling more suffocating than ever. You sank onto the cot, the cold metal of the weapon glimmering in the bits of moonlight that managed to seep through the fabric.

Taking your time, you pondered everything that had brought you to this moment. You searched desperately for a glimmer of hope, but all you found were dead ends. Before returning with Charles, you had imagined a future where your brother might forgive you, where he could overlook the darkness of the past and allow you both to move on, forgetting the pain that had laced your life. You were even ready to let go of the past, but that hope had shattered just as quickly as it had formed.

With a final breath, you cocked the revolver, the click echoing in the silence of the night. The weight of it pressed against your skin as you brought it to the side of your forehead. At that moment, the tumult of emotions surged, fear, regret, and an aching desire for peace, threatening to consume you whole, and it did.

⋆⋆⋆

3 hours.

It had been three hours and the camp was thick with an oppressive silence that weighed heavily on everyone. The men came and went into the tent, each trying to mask their sorrow with bravado, yet their eyes betrayed them, glassy, haunted. Annabelle’s wailing filled the air outside, her cries echoing like a banshee’s lament, punctuated by shouts of blame that pierced the quiet. Yet through it all, Arthur couldn’t hear anything; he couldn’t see anything except your limp form cradled in his arms, and the world faded to grey around him.

He was convinced it was just a nightmare, an illusion crafted by his mind to torment him.

“Arthur...” Charles’s voice broke through the haze as he placed his hands on his friend’s shoulders, his grip steady yet heavy with gravity.

“We...gotta bury her. Please.” The weight of those words hung heavy in the air, an inevitability that Arthur couldn’t bear to face.

“No,” he murmured, shaking his head vehemently as if denying the truth would somehow alter the reality before him. “Only dead people are buried. She’s...she's just sleeping.” The fervour in his voice rose, desperation threading through his tone. “Mum had to always snatch the covers from her because she refused to wake up...she'll wake up soon...I know."

His memory of those mornings washed over him, a bittersweet recollection that clashed violently with the present. The warmth of your laughter, the way you would bury your head deeper into your blankets, evading the morning sun, flared in his mind. Arthur’s grip tightened around you, as if holding you closer could somehow anchor him in this cruel moment, could make you open your eyes.

“Arthur, please.” Charles’s voice trembled with a mixture of compassion and urgency. “We have to let her go. We can’t keep holding on.

“No, I said fucking no. Don't you come near, fuck off!" Arthur growled, the denial thick in his throat.

But all Arthur could think was how cruel it felt, how unbearable it was to even entertain the idea of accepting it. You were his baby sister, his blood, the only family he had left, the one he had been given responsibility by his mother, and the thought of your absence left a hollow pit in his stomach, a void that threatened to swallow him whole. He pressed his face against your hair, clutching you close to his chest, inhaling the scent of you, soft, sweet, and achingly familiar. He murmured incoherently, swaying back and forth like a child himself.

“No,” he repeated choked out, tears streaming down his face. “I won’t lose her, not like this. Not ever. GO AWAY!”

It had taken every man in the camp to separate Arthur from cradling your body. His grip was ironclad, his anguish palpable as he held you against him, as if the sheer force of his will could resurrect you from the depths of despair. They had to pry his fingers from your lifeless form, his cries piercing the stillness of the evening like a gunshot.

As they prepared the grave, the earth was turned and the makeshift coffin formed from an old wooden crate. Each shovel of dirt that fell felt like another piece of Arthur’s soul being buried alongside you. The men worked in silence, their hearts heavy with grief, knowing they could do nothing to ease the torment radiating from him. Charles stood to the side, his own heart breaking.

Even Hosea wasn't able to comfort anyone at this moment. He couldn't fathom that a girl like you, who had so much to live for, for whom he silently had promised to be a guardian of at this camp, was gone. Just like that. He will never forget how you cared for him as a daughter would for her father. Making sure he ate his meals, assisting him with chores and sipping morning (coffee/tea) with him as he read the local news alongside you.

Finally, the moment came. Arthur stumbled forward, the weight of your absence pulling him down as he lowered you into the ground. The first clod of dirt landed with a finality that echoed in the silence of the camp. Tears streamed down his cheek, cutting a path through the grime and dust of the world around him. It felt like a betrayal like they were burying not just you but every memory, every dream he had cherished.

The men finished covering you and when it was done, they stepped back, leaving Arthur alone with his sorrow. He sank to his knees, a hollow shell, fingers digging into the earth as he pressed his forehead against the freshly turned soil. It was all he had left of you.

Dutch approached cautiously, his heart heavy as he watched Arthur, the man he had come to rely on, the strongest in his camp, unravelling before him. “Arthur, my son.." he said softly, “we need to get back to camp. You can’t stay here like this.”

Arthur didn’t budge, his body rigid, his eyes fixed on the grave. “I’m not going anywhere,” he muttered, voice low and filled with pain.

“Please,” Dutch urged softly, “it’s time to go. You can honor her memory at camp. We’ll make sure she’s remembered.”

But Arthur only tightened his grip on the soil. “I don’t care. I’m staying here. I won’t leave her. I can’t…she's alone here.” The darkness of the night and you being alone made his body tremble. With that, he lowered his forehead to the cool earth, the pain a constant pulse in his heart, echoing with every breath he took. At that moment, he felt as though he had buried a part of himself alongside you.

"Just...be sure to come back, son."

With a heavy heart, Dutch turned away, leaving Arthur to mourn. And as the stars began to twinkle in the night sky, Arthur remained there, kneeling by the grave. For God knows how long.

That was the last time since Dutch saw him. Arthur went away from the camp, at least for the whole 4 months. Wandering and coping. Even after he came back, nothing was the same anymore. Pearson's stew tasted worse than ever, its blandness a stark reminder of the joy you used to bring to their meals.

Annabelle had left shortly after your passing, her heart broken beyond repair. She broke things off with Dutch, her fury spilling over. Blaming him, blaming Arthur. This time, Arthur didn’t disagree with her. There were moments when he caught glimpses of hate and blame in Hosea’s eyes too due to that night, moments that cut deeper than any bullet.

That night he had shrouded his fear with his rage because he didn't have the heart to hear any further, anything of what you had endured because he knew he couldn't bear it. Due to this utter selfishness of his, he forgot about your pain, denied to offer his shoulder to you.

Hey Arthur,

I know I’m leaving, and I wish I could tell you that everything will be okay, but I need you to understand something important, none of this is your fault. Please don’t let yourself carry that burden. You’ve always tried to protect me, and it breaks my heart to think that you might blame yourself for my choices. I don’t want you to live with regret, feeling like you didn’t fulfil some promise to Mum. That’s not what she would have wanted for either of us. Neither Dad.

As I write this, I want you to remember the better, more joyful moments we shared when we were young. The laughter that rang through our home, the endless promises of going on adventures we dreamed of as we rode in town with Dad.

You always looked out for me, and always kept me safe, and I will forever be grateful for your protection. You did more than any brother could. But you must know that the path I chose was mine alone. I was foolish to step outside when you even said not to and I got lost along the way. It’s not a reflection of you or your love for me. I don’t want you to carry the weight of my choices as if they were yours to bear.

I want you to live your life without the chains of guilt holding you down. Don’t let this tragedy rob you of your future. Pursue your dreams, even in this hard life of an outlaw and embrace the adventure that awaits you because I have seen how much you enjoy doing what you do even if I was not in favour of it. Find joy in the little things, just as we did when we were young and remember that we are forever connected by the love we share as siblings.

If you find it within you, forgive yourself. I hope that one day, you can look back on our memories with a smile instead of sorrow. I’ll always be a part of you, a part that encourages you to keep going, to live fiercely and fully.

Take care of yourself, okay?

With love,

(Y/N)

Arthur’s fingers lingered over the page of the letter, the ink slightly smudged from his own tears. Each word felt like a dagger in his chest, a reminder of the weight he carried, the weight of his past actions, of his failures as your guardian. He carefully placed the letter beside the photo of you both, sitting together, a snapshot of somewhat happier times, a month after he and you arrived in camp. The Morgans, written at the bottom, as Dutch had called you both. Your eyes were not smiling, they were empty of the mischief and the liveliness which you always held. It clearly showed how unhappy you were being separated from the home you held dear to your heart. He dragged you into this life when you barely had the chance to enjoy your childhood. And he failed to see this at the time, blinded by only his promise to keep you at his side.

I’m still.... your sister.

That plea of yours haunts him to this very day. With a heavy heart, Arthur rose from where he sat, the sun casting long shadows over the camp. He made his way to your grave, each step a reminder of the distance between them now, a chasm he had never imagined would grow so vast.

He knelt down, pulling a few wildflowers from the ground nearby, bright yellow blooms that reminded him of your bubbly laughter. They were vibrant, like the memories he held close to his heart. As he laid them gently atop the grave, a swell of guilt washed over him, choking him with the realization that you had taken the blame upon yourself.

You had written about not wanting him to live with regret, but how could he not? The dark and violent tendencies that had seeped into his life had cast a shadow over everything, over the once innocent and wholesome relationship, filled with just laughter, jokes, care and bickering, and now they had taken you away from him. Arthur thought of the times he had let his anger consume him, the threats he’d made in fits of rage, the moments he failed to protect you in the way a brother should.

"This is on me," he murmured, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions. "You didn’t deserve this... none of it."

He brushed his fingers over the grave, feeling the cool earth beneath, as if trying to connect with you one last time. He wished he could tell you that he’d change, that he’d find a way to channel his fury into something constructive rather than destructive. But the truth was, that change seemed too far away, and the regret felt too real.

The flowers seemed to wilt under the weight of his sorrow, and he fought the urge to crumble right there beside you like he did every day when he visited you. Maybe, just maybe a simple word of sympathy from him that night could have prevented this, "I’m so sorry, (Y/N)," he choked out, his heart heavy with guilt. "I’m so damn sorry, m-my little Chumchum."

The sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a golden hue over the camp, but for Arthur. He stayed there, kneeling at your grave, wishing he could turn back time, wishing he could have been the brother you needed, wishing he could have saved you from the darkness that ultimately claimed your light. Even after killing and gutting alive the ones involved, from Linda to those men, nothing could calm his heart.

It might take a lifetime to heal from your death, but it would take a thousand more to forgive himself.

(AN: Did you cry? I sure did. PS. This was the first time I wrote on this topic so just wanted to say that if you know someone who is going thru smth or even if not, just be kind to others around you and value each other's presence. And if you are goin thru smth be sure to know that this life is a gift and also a test and there is always someone out there who is waiting for you and loves you with all their might, every cell in ur body works for YOU. Thanks for reading, stay hydrated and peace ‎♡‧₊˚)

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lichenbug · 11 months ago

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cutie mark crusaders designs :3

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princessxt · 4 months ago

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Hi! Could you do an imagine where dean and sam have a younger sister and she has a nightmare and ends up sleeping between her brothers?

omg, sorry for the delay, I really was lacking creativity!!

You can make a request in the comments or by asking me a question!

(Please don't be shy to ask, I'm very happy when I have a request to write)

You can see the list of who I write about here

"The Monster Is Gone"

Pairing(s): Dean/Sam Winchester x Sister Reader

Gender: Angst, fluffy

Warnings: Nightmares, monsters, lots of blood and disturbing writing for more sensitive readers

——————♥︎♥︎——————

My childhood memories were never clear, only blurry images and meaningless phrases wandered through my mind when I tried hard to remember.

A part of me thanks my brain for not allowing me to remember, since I knew the images would be too disturbing for a budding teenager, but when Dad went hunting, disappeared and I had to be under the care of my older brothers during the hunts, everything changed.

I still remember when I had the first memory, it was after a hunt where a student came back from the dead seeking revenge. We were in the car, Dean was driving, and Sam was by his side, in silence while I was in the back seat, still processing the information of the case when the memory came. A blonde woman in pajamas ran through the hallways of a house with a child in her arms, who I soon realized was me.

Over the next few days, I began to dream about it, and as the dreams went on, the images became clearer. One day I realized it was nighttime, and the girl carrying me was wearing red pajamas. Two days later, I realized that the pajamas weren't red, they were white, but they were stained with blood. It was on that day that I started to avoid sleeping as much as possible, afraid of finding out whose blood was on her clothes.

That was 4 months ago, and during that time, each day that passed I saw a little more of that night, and now I knew that the woman was my mother, and the blood on her clothes was my father's, but the worst part was knowing that there was something following me and my mother.

I never told my brothers about this, I know they would be worried, and we have too many things to worry about, like ghosts and demons, and I didn't want to take their minds off work.

We were coming back from a hunt, Dean was driving, Sam was in the passenger seat sleeping, and I was in the back seat, trying my best to avoid falling asleep, but the book I had in my hands to keep me awake wasn't working, and little by little, I rested my head against the window, and fell asleep.

And there I was, crying in my mother's lap while she held me against her chest, with her body against the door, the thing that was chasing us walked calmly through the hallways, and slowly reached behind the door where we were. He knocked once. My mother put her hand over her mouth to keep from making noise. He knocked a second time. I could feel my mother's hands shaking. The third knock was so loud that my mother was pushed from the door, detaching me from her body. When we looked back, he was there.

He was tall, had no face, just a blood-stained mouth and sharp teeth. His fingers were long, and his nails were also stained with blood, just like the black suit he was wearing.

My mother, in an attempt to protect me, pushed me against the wall and covered me with her body, making a human shield. I could feel her tears wetting my pink pajamas as I heard her scream.

"NOT MY DAUGHTER, PLEASE! SHE'S JUST A CHILD"

In response, he let out a frightening laugh. In a few seconds, he pulled my mother and threw her to the floor, while she tried to fight, but the thing was strong and held her without effort. The next scene was the worst.

He opened his mouth, showing his huge teeth and then immediately struck her neck, making blood gush all over the room.

I watched that scene, cowering and scared in the corner of the room while I screamed, begging him to let my mother go, but that must have made him feel even hungrier for her, since he raised his long arm and struck her belly, cutting her skin with his sharp nails.

At that moment, I looked at my mother, who was staring at me with her lifeless eyes, wet with tears of pain.

"Y/N! Y/N, wake up!" I heard a voice call out

"Wake up! You need to wake up!" Again, and this time, louder.

At that moment I woke up. Sweaty, with irregular breathing and a dry throat. I looked ahead and saw Dean and Sam looking at me. We were stopped on a dark road.

"Is everything okay?" Dean asks, meanwhile, Sam opens the car door and gets out, opening the back one and getting in, sitting next to me.

"Okay, sure." I answer nervously, trying to compose myself.

"It didn't seem okay while you were screaming," Sam says, handing me a bottle of water, which I gladly accept.

"It was just a dream, I'm fine." I try to convince them, but by their faces, it hadn't worked.

"If it was just a dream, I'm even afraid to know your nightmares," Dean says and starts driving again.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Sam whispers in my ear, and I try to hold back the tears, while I just nod my head in agreement.

"There's a motel a few minutes from here, we'll spend the night there," Dean says and continues down the road.

It doesn't take long until we arrive at the motel. It was a classic roadside motel, but it was enough.

Dean and Sam get a single room for the two of them, and one for me.

I didn't plan on sleeping that night, so when the boys went to their rooms, I grabbed some snacks from a vending machine and went to my room, turning on the TV to a channel that was showing a series, with the intention of distracting myself from the memories.

I manage not to think about my dreams for 2 or 3 hours, but at one point, sleep begins to set in, and little by little my eyes close, but I always realize that I am about to fall asleep, and I wake up with a jolt. I turn off the television and go to the bathroom.

I take off the clothes I was wearing and get in the shower. The hot water hits the tense muscles in my shoulders and relaxes them in a few seconds. I close my eyes and throw my head back, wetting my hair and face. I massage my scalp with the intention of relaxing, but I quickly tense up when I feel a sudden cold, despite the hot water.

I step out of the shower and dry my eyes with my hands, and when I look at the curtain, I can see the shadow of something behind it. Something very similar to the Being from my memories.

With my heart racing and my breathing irregular, I open the curtain in a quick movement, but relax when I find nothing on the other side.

I turn off the shower, still confused and scared by what happened before, and put on some warm pajamas.

I think about lying back down on the bed and watching the series again, but I look at the bedside table and see the spare key to my brothers' room that Sam gave me in case of an emergency.

Without thinking much, I grab the key and go to the next room, unlocking it slowly, not wanting to alarm the boys.

I open the door and close it behind me, when I turn around, I see Sam, still awake, sitting on the couch that was in the room with a book in his hand.

"Hi, did something happen?" He says quietly and puts the book aside, coming to me.

"I'm scared." My eyes fill with tears and I hug him. I feel his big arms holding me tightly, bringing me closer to his chest.

"It's okay, little one. I'm here." He kisses the top of my head as I sob against his soft shirt.

"Come, lie down with us." He pulls away and goes to the bed.

"Dean, go over there." He pokes Dean's shoulder, making him wake up half-dazed and ready to curse his brother, but stops when he sees me crying next to the bed.

Dean pulls away and I lay down next to him, Sam laying down next to me, making me be between the two of them.

"You're safe with us," Dean whispers, going back to sleep.

"You don't have to tell me what you're afraid of, but know that I'm here for you when you're ready to tell me," Sam whispers behind me.

"I'm having dreams. Actually, they're not dreams, they're memories from my childhood, before Dad adopted me. In these memories, a monster or whatever it was killed my father and mother, right in front of me."

"You don't have to be afraid. Dad told us about this story. He came when the monster was on top of your mother and killed it before it had a chance to hurt you. Sleep, and don't worry about your dreams, the monster is gone, it's dead, and your brothers are here to protect you from anything."

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clairewritesjjkxreader · 2 years ago

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Sukuna's Wife and Yuuji's Onee-chan (Sukuna x Reincarnated!Y/N) Part 2

Part 1

Several hundred years ago…

You adored autumn more than any other season. Leaves drying, flowers falling to the ground–you felt most alive surrounded by death.

“The leaves remind me of your hair,” you said to him, holding up a red maple leaf.

“You did not just compare me to a dead leaf.” He watched with crossed arms as you fiddled with the leaf before letting go.

“It’s a compliment. Though…I guess the maple is prettier,” you teased him. The rubiness of autumn maple was rich and with a charm incomparable to any flower.

He huffed.

You laughed a bit, though your giggles were covered up with coughing.

He strolled closer, wrapping a scarf around your neck, his large hands careful not to pull on your hair. “You love autumn but can barely stand the cold.”

You snuggled closer to his side, placing your ear close to his heart. “Then it’s a good thing I married you.”

***

Present day.

Yuuji was the single most precious person to you. He and old man Wasuke were more your family than the actual people who made you. When the toddler first grasped your finger, tightly and warmly, you swore that nothing else mattered in the world.

As the days passed and that little crybaby grew up into a taller crybaby, your sentiments only got stronger.

No one cared, no one mattered, not even yourself.

If anyone deserved to live a long, happy life, it was your sweet, salt of the earth Yuuji.

That’s why, after the man called Gojo explained everything: from curses and cursed energy to Yuuji’s fate after eating one of Ryomen Sukuna’s fingers, you found yourself getting down on both knees and laying your nose on the ground.

“Please,” you begged, “please spare Yuuji. If you need another host, then transfer Sukuna inside me and take me instead, but leave my brother alone.”

All three men were stunned.

Fushiguro reluctantly opened his mouth, “H-hey–”

“Nee-chan, get up.” Yuuji went to grab your shoulders, but he was taken aback when Gojo knelt down in front of you.

He hummed, before asking, “You sure are a good sister. You realize that you’re basically asking us to kill you?”

You said nothing as you kept your forehead on the ground.

“So that’s your answer.” Gojo crossed his arms and pretended to think.

“Darling.” Sukuna appeared on Yuuji’s cheek. He growled, “Get up. You shouldn’t be prostrating yourself in front of these scum.”

Gojo snapped his fingers. “Leave it to me, Y/N-chan!”

“Hey!” “Oy!”

Fushiguro and Sukuna chorused, “You’re not really dragging her into this, are you?” “You damn sorcerer, don’t you dare call her so intimately. Only I can–”

“Raise your head, Y/N-chan.” Gojo chuckled. “I’ll take care of you and Yuuji.”

Despite everything, Gojo needed to be sure of Itadori’s potential as a vessel, so he knocked the boy out and did the same to you before you could try to hit him.

“You’re not really thinking of using that woman as a vessel, right?” Megumi watched as his teacher held you in his arms. “And how do you even plan on transferring Sukuna into her?”

“Tell me, Megumi, do you want Itadori-kun to live?”

“Of course, I do.”

“How about his darling nee-chan?”

“Yes, but–”

“Sukuna cannot be trusted, but if he really does care for this girl then we can use that to our advantage, don’t you agree?”

Megumi couldn’t protest. He didn’t like the idea of getting civilians involved, but if he had to choose between two people and the rest of the world, then the answer was obvious.

The day Old Man Wasuke was hospitalized, you already took a leave of absence from college. Quitting your part time jobs and packing up your belongings took less than a day, and cutting ties with the rest of the world you knew was easy. You had no warmth for your colleagues, or your classmates, or the lonely old house you grew up in.

Sukuna was surprisingly quiet the whole ride to the high school, but when Satoru Gojo started flirting with you, an eye and mouth would open up on Yuuji’s cheek and demand he stay away from you.

“How dare you lay your filthy hand on my beloved–”

“You mad? What’re you gonna do from waaaay over there?” (You seriously started to worry about your brother’s safety while being protected by this moron.)

Yuuji was placed next to Megumi Fushiguro (a polite but reserved boy, you noted) while you were put in the girl’s dormitory, which was practically empty. Sukuna was vocal about “being left behind,” but Gojo was adamant about separating the boys from the girls like the rules state.

Lies, Megumi thought to himself. He just wants to piss off Sukuna. That and it was for your own safety. Though the King of Curses seemed attached to you, he was still a curse, and his attitude could’ve been a mask.

You were used to being alone so living without a roommate or “friends” in a large building was no big deal. Once you were settled in, you returned to Yuuji’s dormitory, but when you found him unconscious and tied to a chair by talismans, you threw a shoe at Gojo without thinking.

“Why are you so violent?” Gojo complained as your shoe bounced off his infinity.

“You said you would protect him!”

“Calm down,” Fushiguro said from behind you. “Please, Gojo-sensei may look and act like that–”

“–oi, what do you mean by ‘that’–”

“–but I promise you, he’s doing this for everybody’s benefit.”

“...You’re lying.”

Fushiguro’s blood froze as you gazed into his eyes. He has never felt such intense blood lust from a single human before.

“You’re not doing this for my baby’s sake… you’re lying… you’re tricking us…” Your voice dripped with ice, your stare glazed over.

Fushiguro was speechless. Something told him you weren’t talking about just Yuuji right now.

“Give him back to me.” You gripped Fushiguro’s arms. “GIVE MY CHILD BACK!”

Fushiguro was at a loss, though your nails dug into him, he couldn’t bring himself to summon his familiars or push you away. You were a bit violent, but he saw Tsumiki in you.

Wait, did she just say child?

@laurcad123 @aidanstan @deepinballs

Part 3

A/N:

I'm getting way too lazy to write full fledged prose.

Anyway, I love soft sukuna.

Also, med school is murder T.T

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marvelfanfn2187a113 · 1 year ago

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Take Care

Sherlock and Mycroft x little sister!reader, John x teen!reader

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: you get a startling diagnosis that turns everyone around you overprotective

Warnings: cancer, mentions of death (no actual death)

“She…she has what?”

John looked up from his newspaper at the sound of Sherlock’s distress. He had picked up a call from Mycroft and answered with the usual bored disdain, but after listening for a moment he had sat up rigid in his chair.

“I see,” Sherlock went on. “I’ll be right over, I…oh. Yes, alright.”

“What was that all about?” John asked as Sherlock put the phone down. After a moment, John thought he wasn’t going to answer, but finally he spoke, his voice dazed.

“What? Oh, Y/N, she’s…Mycroft is bringing her over for a bit.”

“Is she alright?” John asked hesitantly.

“I…no. I don’t know,”

“Sherlock this is ridiculous, what’s wrong? You’re worrying me.”

You had become quite the regular at Baker Street, sleeping over there almost as much as you stayed with Mycroft, your legal guardian.

“Y/N…she has cancer.”

“She what?” Surely he had heard wrong.

“Mycroft took her in for an appointment, routine check up, that’s all, but…” Sherlock swallowed, and didn’t finish.

“How…I mean…” John wasn’t sure how to ask about the severity.

“I’m not sure,” Sherlock said finally. “Mycroft didn’t say much.”

“Hey Sherlock!” To say Sherlock was surprised when you came bounding into 221B like nothing was wrong would be a severe understatement.

“Hello,” he greeted hollowly. You stepped past him to bring your bag to your room, and Sherlock turned to look at Mycroft.

“She knows?” He asked quietly, and Mycroft nodded.

“I believe she doesn’t want to talk about it.”

“How bad is it?”

“They said they aren’t sure about the outcome. They want to start treatments as soon as possible, and it all depends on how she responds to it. All we can do is make sure she gets enough rest and water between visits for now.”

“Alright,” Sherlock sighed. “Then we do all we can do.”

…

“Where do you think you’re going?”

You looked up at Sherlock with a frown.

“Just for a walk.”

“No you’re not,” he responded. “It’s time you took a nap.”

“Gee grandma, you first,” you scoffed.

“Y/N, don’t be like that,” John insisted.

“You guys really aren’t gonna let me take a walk?” You glared at the two men, who didn’t waver an inch. “Fine,” you groaned, brushing past them to your room and closing the door.

…

“Drink.”

“I’ve had like four glasses of water today Mycroft, I’m not thirsty.”

Mycroft gestured to the glass in front of you insistently. You rolled your eyes and took a sip.

“Finish that, and then you should take a nap.”

“I’m fine.”

“He’s right,” Sherlock chimed in from the sofa.

“Since when do you two agree on anything?” You scoffed.

“Since now.”

You glared at Mycroft.

“You can’t lay off for one afternoon?”

“No.”

“Ok, I’ll nap on one condition; you let me go to Christie’s later, she wanted to study together.”

“You’ll take a nap either way,” Mycroft responded.

“Wanna bet?” You challenged.

“No, because I don’t have to. You’ll do as you’re told.”

“John, a little help?”

“Don’t look at me,” John raised his hands. “I’m with them.”

“Could you guys stop treating me like this for two seconds?” Your tone rose with your anger.

“Like what?” Mycroft’s resolve hadn’t changed.

“Like I’m an invalid!” You shoved past your brothers and slammed the door to your room.

…

“She won’t answer.”

“I know that,” Sherlock griped at his older brother.

“Should we pick the lock?”

“She’d kill us.”

“Well, she’s worrying me, she’s been in there for a while,” Mycroft pulled out a lock pick and got to work.

When the lock clicked, he called out a warning.

“We’re coming in if you don’t open this door!”

Silence.

Mycroft pushed open the door, and sighed in relief when he saw you on your bed, a book in your lap and headphones in your ears. You looked up in disgust.

“Privacy much?” You growled as you pulled your headphones out of your ears.

“You’ve been in here for too long, and you wouldn’t answer when we knocked,” Mycroft insisted.

“Why won’t you leave me alone?”

“Because we need to talk,” Sherlock came to stand by your bed.

“About what?”

“About ‘how we treat you’,” Mycroft sighed.

“Alright, talk.”

“You know why we do it,” Sherlock insisted.

“Yeah, because you’re nosy control freaks.”

“Because we’re worried,” Mycroft corrected.

“You shouldn’t be.”

“That’s a load of crap,” everyone turned in surprise when John entered the room. “You know full well why they’re scared, and you are too. There’s not much we can do, alright? The only things we can do is make sure you get your rest in between treatments, and try our best to take care of you. So that’s what we’re doing.”

You were silent for a long moment.

“I-I just…” the tears in your eyes were perhaps the most surprising because it was the first time your family had seen you cry since the news came. “I don’t want to spend what could be my last few months just…resting. Wasting time, relaxing, and-and-“

“Hey,” the sternness in Mycroft’s tone shut you up immediately. “These aren’t your last few months. That’s what we’re trying to ensure by keeping you rested, and able to fight this.”

“We’re not letting you die, understand?” Sherlock lowered himself to meet your gaze.

“Ok,” you choked, and you were relieved when John stepped forwards and pulled you into his arms.

“You’re going to be ok,” he promised.

You smiled.

“Thank you.”

#Sherlock #Sherlock holmes #sherlock x sister reader #sherlock x reader #sherlock x little sister #sherlock x you #sherlock x y/n #sherlockholmes #sherlock and mycroft #sherlock fanfic #mycroft #big brother mycroft #mycroft holmes #bbc john watson #john watson x reader

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countrymusiclover · 2 years ago

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8 - Our Past's Are Complicated

Part 9

Other Hoyt's Off Limits

Tag list - just ask to be added ☺️

Sitting up in my bed I was still half asleep stretching my arms and legs out hearing footsteps come down the hallway of our place. My sister and I decided to split the cost of the house so I didn’t have to find my own place. The footsteps halted in the doorway where I looked up. “Hey sis, Cassie called me and said she got a call from Cormac about something suspicious. So I’ll see you later.”

“Alright. Tell me what she says when you get back.” I responded hugging my knees to my cheek underneath the blankets.

She turned on her heels flipping her hair over her shoulders when she paused. “Let me just make something clear. You’re not seeing Beau right like we planned?”

Knitting my brows together I tried to play it cool like we weren’t secretly dating without her knowing. We had only had two dates and I’m not sure you could call that we had a long kiss. We only had quick little ones here or there. “What no way. We made a deal and I promised I would stick to it.”

Jenny leaned her back against the doorway crossing her arms over her chest. “Look you better not be lying to me. I don’t want you to get hurt like with JW. I dated a cop and it didn’t work out. Dating someone that you work with especially.”

“Travis and you shouldn’t have happened and I’m sorry to say that but it is true. You shouldn’t have gotten together when he was undercover.” I scoffed, crossing my arms over my chest, getting a little annoyed that she was judging me.

My sister pointed her index finger at me, raising her voice towards me. “This isn’t about Travis, this is about you, Mallory. The night you found out about the girl that he killed you came home sobbing to me. I don’t want you to feel like that again. You’re my sister and I am trying to protect you.”

Tossing the covers away I got up from the bed shrugging on some black leggings with my shirt that had a cowgirl hat on the front of it. Putting my hair in a ponytail I heard my phone go off figuring it was Beau. “I understand that but you should go. Cassie is waiting for you.” She gave me a straight face exiting the bedroom leaving me alone.

“Hey darlin’ I was thinking about bringing over some pizza and beers since we have the day off. Sound cool to you?” He asked through the phone.

Closing the fridge I pulled out some beers knowing that my sister wouldn’t be back for a few hours so I could replace the ones we drank. “Yep I’ve got the beers covered. So come on over.” It wasn’t long before I heard him knock three times on the front door only an hour later.

Getting up from the couch I flung open the door smiling towards my boss. He walked in sitting the food on the table in front of the tv before embracing me in a hug. “I’ve missed you, Mal.” Nuzzling my head into his chest flinging my arms around his neck. His arms secured around my waist resting his chin on top of my head softly. Clutching my hands into fists behind his back I sniffed slowly starting to cry into his embrace where he clearly noticed. “Mallory, what’s wrong. Why are you crying? Talk to me sweetheart.”

He broke the hug gently holding his hands on my forearms. Those green eyes focused on me as I let tears slip down my face. “Beau, it’s nothing…I’m fine. Let’s eat pizza.”

I removed myself from his hold but he managed to snag my wrist quickly. “Hold on, Mallory. Seriously, you know you can talk to me. So please tell me what is bothering you.”

“Jenny and I had a fight sort of this morning…” I trailed off where he led me down to sit on the couch intertwining my hands with his in my lap. He didn’t say a word, just letting me go at my own pace. “She’s piecing together that we are getting close. I hate lying to her but she has put this idea in her head that you will be like my ex John Wayne. And I brought up her ex Travis because he’s why she won’t date cops anymore…she thinks that will happen to me…to us.”

Beau reached up, wiping away some of the tears from my cheeks. “The drug dealer cartel.” I nodded my head yes slowly before he kept talking. “Look, you shouldn’t be having fights with her about our relationship. Now you told me about your past with JW and I even have my own past. So don’t ever think that you can’t talk to me about what you think I might do wrong. I messed up with Carla and Emily but I will do better with you,”

Squeezing his hands in mine I wiped away opening the pizza box handing him a piece taking a bite out of mine. “Can I ask what happened between you two? Like why didn’t it work if you don’t mind.”

“It’s fine, don't worry.” He took a bite handing me the pepperoni from his piece since he just wanted cheese pizza tonight. “Let’s just say that we had fights over little things. Me coming home and drinking after a hard day of work. That turned into almost everyday before I left for work. And I just became different around everyone��long story short I’m trying to move past them now.”

Sitting my piece of pizza down I lay my head on his shoulder where he draped his arm over tugging me closer into his embrace. A comfortable silence filled the house while we just sat there together. Slowly turning my head I saw he was staring down at me longingly too. “You’re a good guy, Beau. I wish I would have met you first.”

“You’re perfect, Mallory. Your ex was a dumbass.” He responded in an almost mumble underneath his breath blinking once as he leans forward and I followed shortly, connecting our lips in a long kiss. He snacks his arms around my waist where I climbed in his lap, never breaking the kiss.

Running my fingers up his chest I gripped the fabric of his white flannel shirt for a few minutes before my fingers knotted themselves in his hair tugging a few strands hearing him moan into the kiss. The Texas sheriff ran his hands up my back resting one hand there moving his other up to cradle my face gently. I broke the kiss for a split second hearing us both panting but we were so caught up in the moment that neither of us seemed to care.

Beau deepened the kiss cupping the other side of my face with his hand. Wrapping my arms around his neck he leaned back onto the couch when I tilted his chin up not expecting that our day would go like this. He moved his hands underneath my shirt, breaking the kiss searching for me to tell him stop. “Do you want me to stop?”

"No. I…um. I've never done anything more than this. Not even with my ex.." I blushed, feeling embarrassed that here I was still a virgin while my sister was married and already had a kid in college.

Beau gently turned my chin back toward him so I was focused on his green eyes resting his forehead against mine. "We don't have to do anything else if you're not ready for it honey." Bending my head down I snuggle into his warmth letting him wrap his arms around me kissing my forehead until his phone rang. "Arlen, what's up. Wait, what do you mean you let her go into the woods alone?"

I could tell by the frustration in his tone that it must be the new husband he was talking too. He hung up the phone causing me to sit upright on the couch. "What was that about?"

"Carla's new husband, Avery. He let my daughter go into the woods by herself and now he called saying she was all in a panic. Also they found a dead girl's body that was brought back. I'm sorry Mallory but I've gotta go." He stood up, removing himself from my hold heading for the door.

Snatching my boots that I had accidentally thrown under the couch coming home late from the office I grabbed my cameo jacket calling his name. "Beau, wait." He paused watching me grab my house key following him to his truck. "I'm coming with you."

Comments really appreciated ❤️

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thevoiceinyourheadx · 1 year ago

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Me reading this chapter:

A Safe Haven l Chapter Nine (J. Miller)

Series Masterlist l Previous Chapter l Next Chapter

Summary: When you find out that you’re pregnant, everything comes crumbling down around you.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader; Ellie Williams x Platonic Female Reader

Warnings/Tags: 18+ only, Minors DNI. (TW) domestic abuse/violence, pregnancy, very uncomfortable scene with her and Luke (not graphic and despite the sexual nature of the scene, reader does NOT GET SA, but she does get injured). INJURY; there is a description of an injury as the result of DV towards the end of the chapter implying strangulation. This is a very heavy chapter, so please proceed with caution. I do my best to handle sensitive subjects with as much care as I can. Other tags include: child death (not related to reader), talk of high risk pregnancy (also not reader), reader realizes that she’s having pregnancy symptoms (missed cycle, sickness), reader goes into a state of shock, protective Tommy Miller (I love him sm) reader has a hard time accepting help, there’s a gray area when it comes to doing the right thing. There’s way too much going on so I’ll stop here, the most important warnings are up in bold. OH and also—feral Joel Miller.

Word Count: 11.5k

A/N: I remember thinking the last chapter was hard for me to write but hoooo boy ya girl was wrong. I apologize for the delay, to any readers who have stuck around for this long, I appreciate you so much. Also, obviously you can tell by the warnings and tags this chapter is a tough one. Please be mindful, as it touches on very sensitive subjects from start to finish. I’ve never been this fucking nervous to share a chapter tbh. I’m pretty sure I’m going to go hide in a hole after I post it. Also, that word count good lord I am so sorry not sure how that happened.

Nothing’s gonna hurt you, baby

as long as you’re with me, you’ll be just fine

nothing’s gonna hurt you, baby

nothing’s gonna take you from my side

October, 2024

It was the middle of October.

By now, the pain had become almost unbearable.

Time certainly wasn’t healing the wound.

If anything, time seemed to be making it worse.

So much fucking worse.

But the only thing that you could do was pretend.

Pretend everything was okay.

Pretend it didn’t hurt.

Pretend you didn’t feel empty.

Pretend you didn’t need him.

But you did need him, oh how you fucking needed him—the hole in your heart was growing bigger by the day and only Joel Miller had the capacity to fill the void. Only Joel had the ability to make you feel whole again.

“Be completely honest—what does this look like?”

You stopped knitting and glanced over at Maria.

With her due date approaching, you had offered to help her prepare for the baby’s arrival. At about six months, Maria was expected to give birth towards the middle of winter season and instead of trading or having to use rations for certain baby items, like blankets, little socks and mittens, you’d decided to show her how to make them instead. Not only was it saving her from having to trade or use rations on things that could easily be knitted, but it served as a decent, albeit temporary, distraction, giving your mind the chance to focus on something else other than how deeply you were hurting without Joel.

Tilting your head slightly, you eyed the soft, butter yellow wool she held in her hands. “Um, is that the start of another baby blanket?”

“No.” Maria’s face fell. “It’s supposed to be a hat.”

“Oh. Um.” You leaned forward in the brown leather armchair you were perched on, squinting hard at it as she held it up. “Okay, yeah, I can kind of see the shape of it now. I can totally see it being a little hat for the baby.” She tossed you a knowing smile and you squirmed slightly, heat prickling at your ears.

“I appreciate you lying to me.” She giggled and set down her knitting needles beside her on the couch along with the ball of wool yarn. Leaning back, she placed both hands on her belly and sighed. “At the very least this child will never go without a blanket seeing as blankets are all I’m capable of making.”

You flashed her a small, but reassuring smile.

“You’ll get the hang of it. It just takes practice.”

“Well, now that Luke has put me on strict bed rest until I have the baby, I’m going to have all the time in the world to practice,” Maria remarked, exhaling another sigh. Craning her neck, she peered at your own knitting project, which you’d been working on in something of a secretive manner in your lap and out of the expectant mother’s view. “What are you making over there, anyway?”

Her timing couldn’t have been more perfect.

“I’m so glad you asked since I’m just about done.”

Crossing the last stitch, you set aside your knitting needles and then held up the finished product.

“What do you think of these?”

Maria’s hand flew to her mouth, tears welling up in her dark eyes the moment she saw the pair of little brown baby booties in your hands. “I’m sorry,” she apologized, a tear rolling down the side of her face as you stood up and walked across her living room to present her with the shoes. Sitting down beside her, you held them out in the palms of your hands; with trembling fingers, she accepted them. “Kevin had a pair just like these when he was a newborn. I kept them even after he’d outgrown them.” She let out a small laugh in spite of herself. “You know, I’d always complain that he was growing up too fast. I used to wish that I could slow time down a little so I could enjoy my son being that young longer,” she admitted, sniffing. She reached up, dabbing at her damp eyes with one of her hands. “And now Kevin is frozen in time, forever a three year old little boy.”

She set the booties down on her belly and inhaled deeply, willing herself to keep her composure.

Swallowing back your own emotions, you reached up and brushed a single, stray tear from her cheek with your thumb. It wasn’t the first time that she’d opened up about losing her child—but Maria often kept her emotions hidden, tucked away along with her son’s memory. For the last several years, she’d dedicated most of her time and energy to Jackson and its people, pouring herself completely into her role as the community’s leader. But now that Luke had placed her on strict bed rest for the rest of her pregnancy, Maria had no choice but to step down, temporarily handing the role over to Tommy, along with a small council she’d handpicked herself.

It hadn’t been easy for her, after all, there was only so much she could do to keep herself preoccupied while being confined to the four walls of her home. She found her mind wandering to Kevin a lot more often than not lately and the pregnancy hormones did absolutely nothing to help in the matter.

“Maria?” You said her name softly. “You okay?”

She slowly exhaled the breath she’d been holding.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she finally replied, sniffing again.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” She paused momentarily. “I just—there’s a part of me that still has trouble believing I’m going to be a mother again. It’s been so long, you know? What if I’ve forgotten how to be a good mom?”

Dropping your hand from Maria’s face, you offered it out for her to hold. She accepted it and you gave her hand a gentle squeeze as you said, “This baby, they couldn’t be any luckier than to have a mother like you, Maria.”

“And a fuckin’ hell of a dad like me,” a voice teased from the doorway.

Tommy, who had been at the commune’s produce market picking up potatoes for dinner, walked into the living room with a brown paper bag in his arm. Setting the bag down onto a nearby table, he then made his way over to his wife. Noticing she’d been crying, he leaned over and pressed his lips against her forehead, softly murmuring, “You doin’ alright, sweetheart?”

“I’m alright,” she assured him with a nod. “I’m just extra sensitive and hormonal right now.”

“Kinda figured that out when you bawled your way through Old Yeller at the movies the other night.”

She frowned. “Pregnant or not, that movie’s a tear jerker, okay? Only people made of stone didn’t cry when he died.”

“She’s got a point,” You agreed.

Drawing himself back up to his full height, Tommy glanced at the booties resting on Maria’s belly. He picked them up and held them both in the palm of his hand.

“Well, ain’t these just the teeniest things I ever did see,” he remarked with a soft chuckle. “Who made these?”

Maria jerked her chin towards you. “She did.”

Tommy’s eyes met yours and it felt like a punch to the fucking gut—they reminded you of his brother. “Almost feels like a crime, havin’ you make clothes for our kid for free,” he stated, shaking his head as he handed them back to Maria. “You’re makin’ the baby’s entire wardrobe at this point, little lady.”

Sheepishly, you waved a dismissive hand at him.

“I made one sweater and a couple pairs of mittens for them. I wouldn’t call that a wardrobe, Tommy.”

“It’s a hell of a lot more stuff than we had before. I gotta be honest, it just don’t feel right acceptin’ all these things from you without payin’ somehow. I’d really like to at least trade you somethin’ for ‘em.”

Shaking your head, you politely declined the offer.

“I appreciate it, but I really don’t need anything.”

“What ‘bout Luke?”

“He doesn’t either.”

“But—”

“Honey, don’t waste your breath,” Maria chimed in with a sigh. “I’ve been trying to get her to accept a trade all week long and she simply won’t budge.”

Tommy pursed his lips together. “Okay, I’ve got an idea,” he proposed after a minute. “How ‘bout you and Luke both come on over and join us for dinner later tonight? That ain’t too bad of a deal, right?”

You silently mulled over the offer for a second.

“If I accept, will you two knock it off with the trade nonsense?” When he nodded, you sighed. “Alright then, I accept. We’ll come over for dinner tonight.”

“Perfect,” he grinned. “See that wasn’t so hard.”

“Great!” Maria beamed. “We haven’t had a chance to get together for dinner in months. Lately when I see Luke, it’s as his patient,” she mused. “I have to say, it’ll be so nice to have a conversation with him that doesn’t revolve around my uterus for once.”

Tommy jokingly made a face. “Yeah, tell the doc to leave all that medical stuff at the door. Last thing I wanna hear ‘bout while I’m chowin’ down on some big, juicy bison steaks is what fuckin’ size it is—”

“Tommy! That’s not funny!” Rolling her eyes at her husband, Maria turned to you to apologize but she stopped short when she noticed a sudden change in your complexion. Frowning, she reached up and touched your cheek. “Hey, you don’t look so good. Are you feeling alright?”

You could taste the bile at the back of your throat.

“I-I’m sorry, what did you just say was for dinner?”

Tommy shot you a strange look. “Uh, steaks?”

The mere mention of the word sent a violent wave of sickness crashing over you—slapping your hand tightly over your mouth, you jumped off the couch and made a beeline for their downstairs bathroom right across the hallway. You’d made it just in time to fall to your knees in front of the toilet. Clutching the sides of the porcelain bowl, you gagged loudly and emptied the contents of your stomach into it.

As your stomach heaved, you felt one hand gather your hair to hold it back and out of your face, while another rubbed soothing circles into your back.

“Let it all out,” Maria encouraged you. “It’s alright, just let it all out. There you go, get everything out.”

Tommy poked his head into the bathroom.

“She okay?”

“Tommy! Get out of here!” Maria scolded him over her shoulder. “She doesn’t need an audience!”

He held up his hands. “Alright, alright! Sheesh, I’m just makin’ sure she’s okay, you ain’t gotta bite my head off!” He huffed at her. “I’ll be in the kitchen if you two need me.” Without another word, he spun around on the heel of his boot and disappeared.

Once you were certain there was nothing left, your trembling hand reached for the handle on the tank and pulled it, flushing the toilet. You then sat back, slumping against the wall. “I am so fucking sorry. I don’t know what came over me,” You groaned, the embarrassment evident in your tone as you wiped at your mouth with the sleeve of your flannel shirt.

Maria peered at you, a suspicious glint in her eyes.

“You know,” she said, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear, “About five months ago, I went through a phase where I couldn’t stand the thought of meat; any kind, but red meat had to be the worst. I could not stomach it.” Her hand fell away from your face and she rose to her feet. Leaning back against the sink, she continued to say, “Poor Tommy, couldn’t even mention it to me or I’d throw up on his boots. Not long after that, I found out I was pregnant.”

You stared at her, jaw nearly falling to the tile floor.

“Maria, you can’t seriously be insinuating—I’m not pregnant. It’s not possible—you know I can’t!” You sputtered out, furiously shaking your head. “I have tried and tried, but it never happened for me. I just can’t be—there’s just no fucking way that I’m—”

Maria held up her hands to stop you.

“When was the date of your last menstrual cycle?”

“It was recent.”

“How recent?”

Silently, you started counting the weeks and froze the moment you realized you’d missed September completely and October’s cycle had been due two weeks ago. You’d been so lost in your own grief, so busy trying to keep yourself from falling apart that you hadn’t even realized you hadn’t bled since—

“August,” You breathed out in a terrified whisper.

The last time you’d had your period was in August.

August.

Right before you had slept with Joel Miller for the first time.

Maria whirled around and started digging into the medicine cabinet above the sink. After a minute or so, she turned around and extended a hand out to you, offering to help you to your feet. She let out a tiny, labored grunt as she helped you stand. “I had one left,” she stated, holding out her other hand to you, an individually wrapped pregnancy test in her palm. “At this point, I don’t think you even need to take a test, but it doesn’t hurt to have solid proof.”

You could hardly choke out her name. “Maria—”

She hastily shoved the rest into your hands.

“Just take it. I’ll be back in to check on you, okay?”

Not giving you the chance to protest, she stepped out of the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

You looked down at the test in your palm and then up in the mirror, mouth still agape as you met your own wide eyes in the reflection.

It couldn’t be possible, it just couldn’t be possible.

You couldn’t have children.

With shaking hands, you unzipped your blue jeans and then tore open the package. After you’d taken the test, you laid it on the counter, with the results window facing down. You yanked your panties and jeans back up into place and washed your hands—all the while, the sheer panic had started setting in and the fear that accompanied it seeped deep into your bones.

Swallowing harshly, you realized you it’d been well over the three minutes the package instructed you to wait for the results. “It’s negative,” You affirmed quietly underneath your breath as you picked it up and flipped it over. “It’s negative. It’s negative—”

You stopped, and for a second, your heart did too.

Horrified, you blinked furiously, as if somehow you had misread the results—but there was no fucking mistaking those two solid little pink lines.

The blood ran cold in your veins.

You were pregnant.

Luke hadn’t touched you in months.

And you were pregnant.

Luke hadn’t touched you in months.

And you were fucking pregnant.

Maria knocked lightly on the bathroom door.

“It’s been a few minutes now—can I come in?”

She waited, only to be met with complete silence.

“Hun?” She knocked again. “Is everything okay?”

Again, there was no response from the other side.

“Christ, Maria.” Tommy suddenly appeared beside her with a glass of water in hand. Flashing his wife a teasing look, he quipped, “Can’t you let the poor girl do her damn business in peace? What’s wrong with you, woman?”

Maria frowned. “I think something’s wrong.”

His playful grin faltered. “What do you mean?”

“She’s not answering me.”

Tommy chortled, quirking an eyebrow at her.

“Maybe ‘cause she’s actually doin’ her business?”

Hesitantly, Maria bit down on her bottom lip.

“What? What is it?”

“I—I gave her a pregnancy test to take.”

Tommy’s eyes widened. “You fuckin’ with me?”

Maria glared at him. “No! I’m not fucking with you, I’m being serious! I gave her the test and then told her I would check back in after she took it but now she’s not answering me and I’m kind of worried.”

“The door locked?”

She shook her head. “No, I don’t think it is. Should we just open the door and see if she’s okay?”

Tommy handed Maria the glass of water. “Hey,” he called lightly as he rapped on the door. “Everythin’ alright in there?” He waited for a minute, but when you didn’t reply, he grasped the brass doorknob in his hand. “Now you listen here, little lady. You best answer me right now, or we’re gonna come in, you understand me?”

Silence.

“Last chance—talk or I’m gonna open this door.”

Nothing.

“Alright then, suit yourself. Hope you’re decent.”

Tommy turned the knob, cracking the door open—when he didn’t see you, he pushed it open further; the door stopped halfway and he peered around it only to find you sitting against the wall, preventing the door from going any further. “Shit, she’s sittin’ right behind the damn—fuckin’ hold on, Maria! If I try shovin’ it open, I could hurt her!” Being careful so as not to hit you or step on you by accident, he squeezed his way into the bathroom. He crouched down beside you, cupping your cheek in the palm of his hand. “Hey, what is it? What’s the matter?

Your eyes flickered up to meet his.

You couldn’t speak. You couldn’t move.

All that you could do was stare at him. Petrified.

“C’mon, little lady,” he coaxed, softly. “Talk to me.”

“Tommy! Let me in!” Maria demanded. “Open this door—my bump’s too big, I can’t squeeze through. Can you move her?”

Tommy slid an arm around your shoulders and the other arm underneath your knees. “I’m just gonna move you out the way so she can come in, alright? C’mere.” He gingerly slid you across the tile, closer to him. He then called out to his wife, “There, that should be enough room!”

Maria pushed the door open and rushed inside. “Is she okay?” Gripping Tommy’s shoulder, she slowly lowered herself to kneel beside you. Her eyes went straight to the test clutched in your hand. She just about had to pry your ice cold fingers off the white stick one by one. “It’s positive!” She gasped. “Your results are positive—you’re going to have a baby!”

Tommy let out a gleeful laugh. “You hear that, little lady? You’re gonna have a baby! You’re gonna be a mama! Ain’t that great news?”

Finally, you snapped out of your trance.

Your eyes anxiously bounced between Tommy and Maria, heart pounding as they eagerly waited for a reaction with excited smiles on their faces. “I—”

Unable to utter another word, you burst into tears.

It didn’t take long for either of them to realize they weren’t tears of happiness—the sobs coming from deep within you weren’t full of joy at the news that you were going to become a mother. Instead, they were pained, cries full of sorrow, anguish and fear; and as the confusion flashed across their faces, all you could do was weep harder and louder.

“Wait a minute, I thought you’d be happy.” Maria’s hands reached for yours and she held them tightly as she tried to understand what it was that caused such a negative reaction. “You and Luke tried for a really long time to have another baby. Why are you so upset?” She kept her voice calm, kind. Warm. It wasn’t that she was judging you—Maria wanted to help you, however there was no way for her to help you if she didn’t know what was causing your grief in the first place. “What’s the matter, hun? Are you afraid after what happened last time?”

“I can’t be pregnant,” You rasped out. “I can’t—”

“Hey now, it’s alright. C’mere.” Tommy shifted and moved to sit down beside you against the wall. His arm draped around your trembling shoulders in an effort to comfort you. As sobs wracked your entire body, he pulled you close against his side, rubbing your arm with his hand. Once they’d subsided and little hiccups were all that was left, he finally spoke again. “You can talk to us, little lady. We care ‘bout you a whole lot. Y’know that, don’t you?”

“Tommy’s right,” Maria nodded. “You’re like family to us. You can come to us about anything. We’ll do whatever we can to help you, okay?”

You shook your head tightly. “I can’t. I just can’t.”

She let out a small sigh and looked at her husband with a look of defeat. “I think you should run down to the clinic and get Luke. He’ll know what to do.”

“No!” You shouted loudly, startling them both. “I—he can’t find out that I’m pregnant. He can’t know, or else—” A fresh batch of tears sprang forward as you clamped a hand over your mouth.

“Or else what?” Maria asked, raising an eyebrow.

Or else he was going to fucking kill you.

Tommy grabbed your wrist, gently tugging it away from your face. “Or else what?” He echoed. “What is goin’ on? Is there somethin’ we should know?”

You let out another sob and his fingers curled a bit tighter around your wrist, firm but still gentle.

“We’re gonna need you to tell us what’s goin’ on.”

There was no way around it—around any of it.

You had to tell them.

Swallowing harshly, you admitted, “There is.”

The couple waited expectantly.

“The baby isn’t Luke’s.” You mumbled it so quietly and incoherently that neither of them had heard it despite being in such close proximity.

Maria furrowed an eyebrow. “What did you say?”

“The baby isn’t Luke’s!” You yanked your wrist out of Tommy’s hand and cried out the confession. “It isn’t his and that’s why he can’t fucking know!”

And just like that, everything came spilling out.

Luke’s violence towards you.

Your romantic affair with Joel.

Ellie finding out about the abuse.

Your refusal to let them do anything about it.

You spared no details of everything that had taken place over the last several months and by the time you’d finally finished, both Tommy and Maria were rendered completely speechless. Tommy, who still had an arm around you, must have been grappling with the fact that the child you carried would be of his very own flesh and blood.

“Can one of you say something? Please? Anything at all?” Your voice was small, feeble.

Tommy withdrew his arm from your shoulders and stood up. He helped Maria up to her feet before he extended his hand to you. “Alright, first let me get you up off of this floor, little lady.”

Your mouth fell open. “Tommy how can you—after everything that I’ve done? Your brother—”

“Please, just let me help you off the floor and then we can talk ‘bout it. Okay?”

You accepted his hand, allowing him to pull you to your feet. Much to your surprise, he didn’t let it go as he led you out of the bathroom and back to the living room where he sat you down on the couch.

Maria, who still hadn’t said a word, sat beside you.

Tommy knelt down in front of you, placing a warm and gentle hand on your knee. He almost looked a little bit guilty—as if he should’ve known what was being done to you behind closed doors. “I need an honest answer. How long has he been doin’ this to you?”

Anxiously, you started wringing your hands in your lap. “Tommy, I can’t—”

“Tell me,” he encouraged you, gently. “When did it first start?”

“Two months after my dad died,” You confessed.

Maria stiffened. “Luke’s been putting his hands on you for two years?”

You nodded. “Yes.” Your voice was small and full of shame, shame for letting it go on as long as it had.

“Fuckin’ hell.” Tommy sighed heavily and hung his head. “Joel told me—he fuckin’ told me.”

You wiped at your swollen eyes with your forearm.

“What the hell are you talking about, Tommy?”

He sighed again.

“Months ago, the day after the big summer party,” he began to explain. “We were at the bar. Joel was askin’ me ‘bout you and Luke. Said somethin’ just wasn’t right when he saw you two together for the first time. He tried to tell me somethin’ was wrong and I—I didn’t fuckin’ believe him. Told him he was seein’ what he wanted to see ‘cause he liked you. I fuckin’ told him that you and Luke were happy. He tried to tell me and I didn’t fuckin’ listen to him.”

“Tommy, please don’t blame yourself for this,” You begged him. “I’m the one who chose to hide it. It’s my own fault, okay? This is on me, not on you.”

Maria furiously shook her head. “It’s not your fault and it sure as hell isn’t on you. You’re the victim.”

Victim.

The word made you physically cringe.

“But it is. I hid it from you for two fucking years.”

“Why did you hide it? Why didn’t you come to us?” Tommy’s voiced was strained. “We—I coulda done somethin’ to stop it. I coulda helped you.”

“I didn’t want to risk getting him thrown out of the commune. Jackson needs him, Tommy.”

“Like hell we do,” Tommy rose to his feet. “Ain’t no way we’re toleratin’ that fuckin’ shit here.” With his hands curled tightly into fists, he spun around and started walking towards the front door.

You stood and chased after him, catching him just as he opened the door. “Where are you going?”

“To confront that pathetic son of a bitch—”

“Tommy, please! Don’t do that.” Grabbing his arm, you shot him a pleading look. “Please, think about this for a minute.”

“There ain’t nothin’ for me to think ‘bout, alright?”

“Yes there is! This town needs a doctor. They need Luke—Maria needs Luke.” You glanced over at her just as she appeared in the hallway, both hands on her belly. “God forbid something goes wrong—she goes into preterm labor, or she has a complication when she gives birth. Did you think about that?”

“We’ve got two nurses,” he reminded you.

“Two nurses who only know basic neonatal care. If something serious happens, Maria’s going to need Luke. And the baby’s going to need him too.”

Tommy looked helplessly at his wife. “She’s right. I fuckin’ hate to say it, but she’s right ‘bout that.”

“I am,” You stated. “Luke has to stay and you both know that as well as I do. For the good of Jackson, he has to stay.”

Conflicted, Tommy growled out in frustration. “I’m just supposed to give him a fuckin’ pass? How can you expect us—how can you expect me to let that motherfucker walk around this place knowin’ what he’s been doin’ to you over these last two years?”

Your fingers dug into his arm, a fresh batch of hot, stinging tears brimming your eyes. “Tommy, if this community suffers without Luke because of me, it will destroy me. The guilt will fucking destroy me.”

Maria, who hadn’t said much of anything, stepped in. “Listen, I know that you’re trying to look out for the people of this town. But you’re risking your life by asking us to let him stay here.” She walked over to you, taking your hands in hers. “I know men like Luke because I used to prosecute men like Luke. I would take them to court on murder charges.” Her eyes found yours. “I don’t want to scare you, but if it’s the only way for me to get through to you, I will sit you down and tell you all about what happened to the women who told me their abusive husbands would never, ever dare take it that far.”

Your throat bobbed, a chill running up your spine.

“I’ll leave,” You squeaked. “I’ll leave him.”

“And what if he doesn’t let you walk away?”

Tommy crossed his arms over his chest. “He will if I’m the one who fuckin’ talks to him.”

Panicked, you furiously shook your head. “I can do this on my own, Tommy. I can handle Luke alone—I don’t need you to do it for me. I can fix this alone without your help, okay?”

“You can’t,” he said, firmly. “You just can’t.”

“But—”

He cut you off with a pleading look.

“You need to let us help you. Please. Let us help.”

You had agreed to it, but only on one condition.

“I need a couple of days,” You’d told them.

Tommy frowned. “No. It’s happenin’ tonight. We’re gonna talk to Luke, you’re gonna pack up a couple bags and we’re gettin’ you away from him. You can stay here with us for a while. You’ll be safe.” Taking notice of the shocked look on your face, he said, “I know you ain’t crazy enough to think I’m gonna let you go home to him tonight. Ain’t no way in hell.”

“I—this is all happening so fast. It’s overwhelming, Tommy. I just need a day or two to process—”

“And give Luke the fuckin’ chance to hurt you?”

“He hasn’t laid a finger on me in weeks now.”

Tommy scoffed, “Well, someone give him a fuckin’ medal!” He exclaimed, throwing his hands up. “He hasn’t hit his wife in weeks! What a fuckin’ guy!”

You recoiled, his sarcasm stinging like he’d poured salt right into the open wound.

“Tommy,” Maria glared at him. “Not helping.”

He immediately shot you an apologetic look.

“Shit. Sorry, little lady. I’m just real worried. I don’t like the idea of you goin’ home to him tonight, and much less knowin’ that you’re pregnant, y’know?” His eyes fell to your stomach. “When, uh, when do you plan on tellin’ Joel ‘bout the baby anyway?”

Heat flooded your face and neck. “I-I’m not sure.”

“Jesus Christ, Tommy! She just told you that she’s feeling overwhelmed,” Maria chastised him. “Let’s take it one step at a time. Our first priority is going to be to get her out of that house. She has already agreed to letting us help her, so I think there’s a bit of room for compromise. Here’s the deal.” She put a hand on your shoulder. “As much as I don’t want to let you go home to him tonight either, I’m going to allow it so you can take a breather. Tomorrow in the afternoon when you get home from work duty, I’ll come over and help you pack some clothes and we can bring them over here to our place.”

Nervously chewing your lower lip, you asked, “And then what?”

“I’ll go confront Luke,” Tommy stated. “Best if you ain’t there when I talk to him, little lady.” He turned to Maria, placing a hand on her belly. “I don’t want you to be there either, sweetheart. I ain’t takin’ any chances and puttin’ you and the baby under stress so I’m gonna have to handle him alone, alright?”

Maria nodded, shifting her attention back to you.

“So? Do we have a deal?”

Meekly, you nodded. “We have a deal.”

The rest of that evening passed by in a blur.

Autopilot took over moment that Tommy took you across the road and dropped you off at your door.

“Any problems, you come get me,” he’d said. “You come and get me. No matter what time it is, okay? You fuckin’ come and get me if he tries anythin’.”

All that you could do was give him a weak nod and then you’d turned around, slipping into the house.

You didn’t remember cooking dinner.

You didn’t remember looking at the clock, noticing it was well past dinnertime and realizing that Luke would be home late as usual. You didn’t remember fixing him a plate and leaving it on top of the stove for him to find when he came home, storing all the leftovers, and washing the dirty dishes in the sink.

You didn’t remember heading upstairs afterwards, you didn’t remeber taking a long shower, brushing your teeth or changing into your pajamas.

It wasn’t until the bedroom door opened and Luke walked in that autopilot mode finally disengaged.

“You’re still up?”

You’d been sitting on the foot of the bed anxiously picking at your fingernails without even realizing it until he glared at you—he’d always hated the habit and spent months smacking it out of you. Ceasing from messing with your hands, you dropped them into your lap.

“You’re home really late again,” You said, quietly.

“I made a last minute house call. John’s boy came down with a hell of a fever tonight.” Luke set down his satchel bag and shrugged out of his jacket—as he did so, you caught sight the tiny reddish purple bruise on his neck, right below his ear. Draping his jacket over a nearby chair, he arched his brow as if he were silently challenging you to confront him—daring you to ask him who’d given him a love bite.

You didn’t care. You didn’t care about what or who Luke was doing over the last several nights he had been coming home so much later than usual.

Kicking off his boots, he sauntered over to you, his mouth stretching into a cruel, satisfied little smirk; he knew damn well you’d already figured it out.

“Spend the afternoon at Tommy and Maria’s?”

“Yeah.”

He hummed. “She was telling me during her exam this morning at the clinic that you’ve been helping her knit some clothes for the baby.”

“I have,” You murmured, looking down to avert his curious gaze as he stopped in front of you. “We’ve been making blankets, too.”

Luke cupped your chin, forcing it back up to meet his. “Isn’t that sweet of you.” He roughly curled his fingers around your jaw, his thumb brushing along your quivering lower lip. He chuckled. “Something about you seems different, darling. Been looking a lot prettier to me these days.” He let go of your jaw and brushed your hair behind your shoulder, finger skimming the strap of your pajama top. “How long has it been now, sweetheart?”

Your throat went dry, your lips parting in complete shock as he pulled it down your arm, palm grazing over your skin as he did so.

This couldn’t be happening. He wanted to—?

Without waiting for a response, Luke grabbed one of your hands and brushed it along his belt buckle.

Noticing your expression, he laughed again.

“Why do you look so surprised?”

“Y-You haven’t wanted to touch me in months.”

Luke shrugged.

“Well I’m suddenly in the mood for my wife’s cunt. Who knows, maybe we’ll get lucky this time. Have a little one of our own. I’m feeling optimistic.”

You were going to be fucking sick all over him.

No, you couldn’t let him do this to you.

You couldn’t let him touch you.

Not when you were—

He pushed your hand lower, right over his bulge.

“No!” Tearing your hand away, you jumped up and roughly shoved him. “Don’t fucking touch me!”

He stumbled backwards, but he caught himself.

Your chest heaved as he stared at you, bewildered at what you had just done. “I’m sorry that whoever you fucked before you came home wasn’t enough for you, but you are not fucking touching me!” You spat out at him. “In fact, you’re never touching me ever again because I’m leaving. I’m done, Luke.”

“Excuse me?”

“You fucking heard me.” Your voice trembled—you couldn’t be sure if it was out of anger or out of the sheer terror you felt. Maybe it was a bit of both. “It is over, Luke. This marriage is over. I’m not putting up with what you’ve been doing to me for the past two years, not anymore. I’m not going to allow you to keep on hurting me.” Lifting your hand, you slid off your wedding band and threw it; it clinked as it landed on the hardwood floor near his feet. “I’ll be out of this house by tomorrow evening.”

“Let me take a guess.” He spoke calmly, much too calmly, as he started towards you. The time-bomb had started ticking. “You’re going to move in with Joel Miller and his feral little rat of a kid?”

Hands curling into fists at your sides, you seethed, “Where I move is none of your business, Luke.” He stepped closer and your courage started to falter. You could feel yourself wanting to back down—the thought of your unborn child is the only thing that kept you from completely losing your nerve. “Here is the deal. You’re going to let me leave and you’re going to stay away from me. If you do that, I won’t tell anyone anything about the things you’ve done to me. We both move on with our lives, separately. Got it?”

He drew closer and closer. Much too close.

“Do you really think you can call the shots? Do you really fucking think you have the upper hand? That you can just end this marriage, just like that?”

Closer, until his chest brushed against yours.

“Luke, I’m giving you a fucking chance here!” You said, backing away until the back of your knees hit the edge of the mattress. With nowhere else to go, you fell backwards onto the bed, scrambling up to the headboard. Your heart was pounding, too hard and too fast—would it give out before he even had the chance to get his hands on you? “Luke, please just let me go.” Clasping your hands together, you begged him, your back against the headboard, “If at any point in our relationship you loved me—if at any point in our marriage you actually cared about me, you will let me go in peace. Please, just let me go. Let me fucking go.”

Luke stood at the foot of the bed, his face blank.

Emotionless.

There wasn’t a single ounce of mercy in his eyes.

“Please,” You whispered, your arms curling around yourself and subconsciously protecting your belly.

He reached down and unbuckled his belt.

You watched, your stomach churning, as he slowly slid the black leather from the loops of his jeans.

“I’m not letting you go anywhere.”

“I mean it, Joel. Stay away from Luke.”

Joel clutched his stallion’s reins tightly in his hand as the pair fell into an easy trot behind Tommy and his horse, Ranger. His younger brother led the way through the quiet, tranquil plains of Wyoming, but instead of scanning their surroundings for signs of potential danger, all Joel could do was think about you—that was all he could ever do these days, was fucking think about you, about that fucking night.

The memory played over and over in his mind on a loop, torturing him day in and day out.

“…just fucking stay away from me too.”

And so that’s exactly what he had fucking done.

He had stayed away from Luke.

He had stayed away from you.

Against his better judgement.

“How’s it feel to be back out here?” Tommy asked. He tugged at the reins and gave Ranger the cue to slow his trot, giving Joel and his horse, Bandit, the chance to catch up and ride at their side. “Bet you couldn’t be fuckin’ happier to be off house arrest,” he added, a light joking edge to his tone.

After about four and a half weeks, Joel made a full recovery and was finally allowed to return to patrol duties. Wanting to ease him back into the swing of things, Tommy had decided to pair up with Joel as his partner for that morning’s watch. The two took a route just a few miles west of the commune, one that was scoured every couple of days since it was so close to Jackson’s main gate.

“S’alright,” he muttered with a shrug. His shoulder was still pretty sore, but Ellie had assisted with his physical therapy, badgering him every single night to do the exercises in some book she had found in the town library with Dina’s help. He had full range of motion again, and that’s all Tommy had needed in order to allow him to return to patrol.

“You feelin’ alright?” His brother noticed the slight look of discomfort on his face. “Shoulder’s good?”

“Any particular reason you’re bein’ so annoyin’?”

Tommy feigned offense.

“You got shot, Joel. Just makin’ sure you’re okay.”

Joel let out a small huff through his nose. “S’good. Still hurts a little and the cold weather ain’t doin’ a whole lot to help.” Sitting back in his saddle, he let his thighs close around Bandit. “Whoa,” he uttered to the animal, his fingers squeezing the reins as he signaled for Bandit to come to a halt.

“What’s the matter? Why are we stoppin’?”

“This route’s clear, Tommy. We should turn around and go find rest of the group. Check and see if the other routes are clear too.” Joel clicked his tongue, prompting Bandit to move. He steered the stallion and started turning around to lead them back east but then stopped once again. He glimpsed over at Tommy, who hadn’t moved a muscle. Noticing the odd, pensive expression on his face, Joel frowned, asking, “What’s wrong?”

Tommy chewed the inside of his cheek, looking at him with apprehension.

“Joel, there’s something we need to talk ‘bout and maybe it’s best if we do it while we’re out here just the two of us.”

Confused, Joel’s eyebrows pulled together. “What is it?”

His brother hesitated, his lips pursed together and sudden regret flashing across his features, as if he shouldn’t have said anything.

“Tommy?” Joel prompted.

Exhaling a heavy sigh, he stated, “You were right.”

“Right ‘bout what?”

“‘Bout Luke.”

Joel froze in this seat of his saddle.

“You were fuckin’ right ‘bout him mistreatin’ her.”

His grip around the reins tightened, skin stretched thin over his knuckles so tight they’d gone white.

“She was over at mine yesterday afternoon, ended up tellin’ us everthin’ ‘bout Luke.” Rolling his lower lip between his teeth, Tommy paused for a second before repeating, “You were right. You were fuckin’ right ‘bout that bastard from the start and I’m real sorry that I didn’t fuckin’ believe you, Joel.”

Joel’s mind began to race—what prompted you to finally tell Tommy and Maria about the abuse? Did something happen to you he didn’t know about?

Ellie had been good about keeping him posted. He asked her about you the minute she’d walk in after her shift at the stables and she’d provide him a full report.

“It’s starting to get colder, Joel,” she had told him one evening over dinner with a worried look on her face. “She’s starting to wear sweaters and stuff. If she has marks, I’m not gonna be able to see them on her.”

“She’s fine. She ain’t hurt,” Tommy reassured him, as if he’d read his mind. “We’re plannin’ on movin’ her outta Luke’s house later on this afternoon—”

“What?” Finally, Joel spoke, his voice rigid.

Tommy held his hands up. “Now let me explain—”

“She told you Luke’s been abusin’ her and you just let her go back to him? Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me? Why didn’t you and Maria fuckin’ stop her?”

“Why didn’t you fuckin’ stop her the night you saw the bruise on her?” The younger Miller challenged.

Joel stared at him, his lips parted slightly.

How did he fucking know about that?

“She told us the truth ‘bout the affair too, Joel.”

“She did?”

“She did.” Tommy nodded. “I had a hunch, the day we were all at the clinic after the ambush. Thought I saw panic in her eyes when I told Ellie you’d been shot. Then again when she saw you there sittin’ on that table with a bullet in your shoulder. I brushed it off, thought she was worried ‘bout the kid seein’ as those two are thick as fuckin’ thieves, y’know?”Despite the serious nature of the conversation, he couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle. “But now I know she was scared of losin’ you. That girl loves you, Joel. I know you love her too. I’m willin’ to bet it’s the reason you let her walk away that night. It’s a tough call, goin’ against someone’s wishes. Even if it’s for their own fuckin’ good.”

Joel exhaled a shaky breath. “Must think I’m a real coward for not doin’ a goddamn thing ‘bout it.”

“It’s a complicated situation, brother. She only did what she did for the good of the community. She’s still trying to do what’s best for Jackson, believe it or not. Wants us to let Luke stay.”

“Ain’t no goddamn way you’d let him stay. After all the shit he’s done to her?” When his brother didn’t respond, Joel narrowed his eyes at him. “You can’t fuckin’ tell me you’re considerin’ it! Are you fuckin’ serious, Tommy? You and Maria would let that son of a bitch stay in Jackson? Knowin’ he’s spent two fuckin’ years puttin’ his hands on his wife?”

“Look, I don’t like the idea as much as you do, and neither does Maria,” he said. “But this ain’t exactly black and white, Joel. I fuckin’ wish it was. But the hard truth is that Jackson does need a doctor, and unless one magically falls out of the fuckin’ sky we ain’t got much of a choice here. My wife and child, they might need him, y’know? Maria’s considered a high risk ‘cause of her age. If somethin’ happens and there’s complications when she’s in labor, she and the baby are gonna need him. Our nurses ain’t trained to handle things like that, y’know?”

Joel’s lips pressed together in a tight, thin line.

Of course it was black and white to him—because he loved you. You were his fucking priority.

Tommy?

His priority was Maria and their unborn child.

Joel couldn’t fault him for that, nor could he try.

“Listen, Joel. I know this is hard, believe me I do. I care about that girl a whole fuckin’ lot. I saw her as family long before I knew ‘bout the two of you and before I knew she was—” He stopped abruptly, the color draining from his face when he remebered.

Joel still didn’t know he was going to be a father.

Again.

“Before you knew she was what, Tommy?”

“Tommy!” A woman’s voice shouted. “Joel!”

The two brothers glanced over their shoulders and saw the rest of their morning patrol group heading towards them.

Tommy bit back a sigh of utter relief. He turned to Joel, lowering his voice. “Joel, I need you to listen, and listen good. We’ve gotta take this one step at a time. First thing’s first, me and Maria are gonna get her outta ther house. She’ll stay with us at our place for a while. She’ll be safe.”

“Then what?”

“Then we’ll figure things out. In the meantime, I’m gonna need you to stay calm, brother. Don’t go off and do somethin’ stupid, alright?”

That had been a lot easier said than done.

Joel needed to talk to you.

He needed to fucking see you.

But his brother had been adamant.

“Don’t get involved, Joel. Not ‘til we get her out. I don’t want things to fuckin’ explode in our faces.”

Letting out a heavy sigh, Joel leaned back into the couch and looked down at the guitar in his lap—he had just spent the last hour polishing it in an effort to keep himself occupied. He thought back to that night you’d come over to gift it to him, how he had kissed you for the first time mere hours before you showed up on his doorstep with the Gibson. As he gave the guitar a gentle test strum, he recalled the request you made for him to sing you a song and a dull ache settled in his chest, right over his heart.

He would sing you every song you wanted to hear, if given the chance.

Part of him was optimistic that he would.

You were meant to be his.

He was meant to be yours.

Joel’s train of thought was shattered by the sound of the front door opening and then slamming shut loudly.

“Ellie?” He called out.

Her voice came from the hallway. “Yeah?”

“C’mere, kiddo.”

Ellie grumbled incoherently as she walked into the living room, hair disheveled, clothes filthy, and her red sneakers caked with muck from the stables.

Joel frowned at her. “The hell happened to you?”

“Today was just really fucking shitty and while that was a great pun, it was not intended for once,” she sighed, crossing her arms over her chest. “Look, if you called me in here to ask me about her, I’d save my breath. She’s sick, so she stayed home today.”

Joel’s stomach instantly dropped. “She’s sick?”

“Yeah. With a really bad cold or something.”

Putting down the guitar, he questioned, “And who told you that?”

“Dina,” Ellie replied. “She said Luke told her—”

She stopped abruptly as he jumped to his feet and immediately shoved past her, heading towards the front door. She spun around on her heel, following him. As he flew down the porch and started down the road towards your place, she was forced to jog along beside him just to keep up with his stride.

“What, what? What is it? Joel, what is it?”

“She ain’t sick, Ellie.”

“What do you mean she’s not—oh fuck. You don’t think she’s hiding out at home because—?”

Ellie’s heartbeat skipped as the realization sank in.

As the pair arrived at your porch, they found a very distraught Maria Miller standing there at the door. “I need you to let me in!” She turned and pulled at the doorknob desperately. “Please! Open the door for me!”

Your tearful voice came from the other side.

“Go away!”

The sound of his boots on the porch caused Maria to turn around. “Joel,” she breathed out in relief. “I can’t get her to open the door. Tommy went to see if we have a spare key for the unit. He hasn’t come back and I don’t know what to do.”

“Break a fucking window?” Ellie snapped at her.

Joel silenced her with a glare and then took Maria, moving her to stand behind him. “Open the door!” He commanded, pounding a fist against the wood harshly. He could almost feel the way you froze on the other side the moment you heard the sound of his voice. “Open this fuckin’ door right now!”

Ellie chimed in, “Come on, please open the door!”

“Go away!”

Joel continued to beat his fists against the door.

“Show me what he fuckin’ did to you!” He shouted as he dropped his hands to the doorknob, clawing at it as if somehow that would do the trick to open the door. “Show me what that bastard did to you!”

“Please, go away, all of you! Just leave me alone!”

“You know we can’t do that,” Maria called. “You’re going to have to open this door and let us—”

Losing the very little patience he had to begin with in the first place, Joel cut her off. “I’ll fuckin’ break this door down if I have to,” he threatened. “Cause a scene and let everyone in this fuckin’ town know what Luke does to you—”

Hearing the lock click, he stopped.

Finally, you cracked the door open and peeked out to show them your face. “There, you fucking see?” Your face was blotchy, your eyes red, swollen from crying. “I’m fucking fine! Now fucking go away!”

You tried shutting the door, but Joel was too quick and slipped the steel toe of his boot in, wedging it between the door and the doorframe. Not wanting to break his foot, you let up and he shoved his way inside with Ellie and Maria trailing behind him.

Taking a clumsy step backwards, you gathered up the front of your brown cardigan in your trembling hands, bunching it around your neck. “Please, just get out!” You begged them through a sob. “Please leave! I’m fine! Look at me, I’m perfectly fine—”

Heart hammering painfully against his chest, Joel walked over and grabbed your wrists. “Let me see. Baby, let me see.” His voice was raw, thick, as if he were on the verge of tears himself. He tried to find your gaze, but you refused to look him in his eyes. “Let me see,” he choked out again, the warmth of his skin a stark contrast against the iciness of your own. “I’ll force you if I have to, so please just show me. Please, just fuckin’ show me.”

Letting out a tiny, agonized sob, you dropped your hands and let go of the material, letting it fall back into place at your sides and exposing your injury.

Maria gasped into her hands. “God.”

“Fuck.” Ellie’s eyes widened in complete horror.

Joel dropped your wrists, taking a step backwards as his eyes glazed over the severe discoloration on your neck—around your neck. He felt fucking sick, but it wasn’t until he noticed the clear imprint of a belt buckle on the column of your throat that Joel actually felt like he would be sick all over the floor.

“What the hell is going on in here?”

Luke’s voice suddenly echoed through the foyer.

He stood near the door, looking confused—that is, until he saw you standing there, exposing what he had done to you the night before with his belt; the very same belt he was wearing now, and that Joel Miller was eyeing with a murderous glint.

No one had the chance to speak.

No one had the chance to think.

No one even had the chance to breathe.

Joel charged at Luke, roughly snatching the collar of his jacket and pulling him further into the foyer; away from the open front door so he had nowhere to fucking run.

You rushed towards them. “Joel, stop! No!”

Maria quickly hurried to stop you, grabbing you by the back of your sweater. She pulled you back, out of harm’s way. “Don’t!”

Horrified, you watched as Joel slammed Luke into the oval mirror hanging on the wall—head first. He pulled him forward, then slammed him again even harder, completely shattering the glass. Hundreds of shards went flying across the hardwood floor.

“Oh shit! Watch out!” Ellie jumped back as a sharp piece of glass landed near her sneakers.

“Joel, stop it! Please, stop!” You cried out as Maria grasped your arm to keep you from jumping in the middle of the altercation. “Stop it!”

But Joel was too far gone and your desperate plea went completely ignored as he wrapped one hand around Luke’s neck, holding him in place while the other curled into a fist and started delivering bone shattering blow after bone shattering blow right to his face. “Wanna fuckin’ hit someone?” He snarled as the man’s nose cracked beneath his knuckles. “Wanna fuckin’ put your hands on someone? Then fuckin’ put ‘em on me, I fuckin’ dare you—”

But he didn’t even give him the chance.

Throwing Luke onto the floor, Joel climbed on top of him and wrapped his hands around his neck, an uncontrollable urge to do to him what he’d tried to do to you coming over him—only, he didn’t need a belt.

And he wasn’t going to fucking stop.

He squeezed Luke’s neck, cutting off his oxygen.

“How do you fuckin’ like it,” he hissed, irises going from brown to black as he pressed harder. “C’mon tough guy, tell me how you fuckin’ like it—”

Luke clawed and scratched at his hands, gurgling, blood coming out of his nose and mouth.

“Joel!” Tommy ran into the house, boots scraping against the floors as he skidded to a halt. Without hesitating, he jumped into action. “Joel, fuckin’ let him go! Let him go right now!” He commanded as he reached down to pull him off.

“Look at what he did to her! Fuckin’ look at her!”

Tommy looked over at you, the color draining from his face. “Christ,” he breathed out, shocked by the mark around your neck. He had half a mind to just step back and allow Joel to finish the job, but with you, Ellie, and Maria watching on in terror, Tommy had no choice. He grabbed fistfuls of Joel’s denim shirt. “Fuckin’ let him go, Joel! That’s an order!”

Luke’s attempts to fight him off had grown weaker and his hands fell from around Joel’s wrists.

He was close to losing complete consciousness.

“Joel, let him go!” Tommy bellowed. “Now!”

“Tommy, be careful!” Maria warned him worriedly.

He peeled Joel off of Luke and shoved him against the nearest wall, pinning him in place.

Luke started coughing and sputtering, gasping as he frantically tried getting air back into his lungs.

“Fuckin’ let go of me!” Joel growled, his eyes wild as smacked at Tommy’s chest. “I’ll fuckin’ kill him! Let me fuckin’ go!”

Tommy cupped Joel’s face in his hands. “Listen to me—fuckin’ look at me, Joel!” he said. He spoke in the steadiest voice he could muster, but every last person in that room could hear it tremble. “Look, I know he fuckin’ deserves it! Trust me, it’s takin’ all the strength I’ve got in me not to fuckin’ let go, let you kill the son of a bitch. Hell, there’s a big part of me that wants to help you do it! But this just ain’t the way we handle things here, Joel. So I need you to calm down, brother. If anythin’, just do it for her sake, alright?”

Joel’s chest heaved, his breaths rough and ragged as his eyes flickered over to you. His heart sank at the sight of you sobbing in Ellie and Maria’s arms.

Groaning, Luke rolled over, spitting out a mouthful of blood on the floor. “You can fucking have her,” he rasped out, looking up at Joel. “Keep her. Keep the useless whore. She’s not worth a damn thing.”

Blinded by a white hot rage, Joel thrashed around in Tommy’s grasp. “Fuckin’ say that again—”

Dropping her arms from around you, Ellie stepped forward, standing protectively in front of both you and Maria.

“Get off me! I’m gonna fuckin’ kill him!”

Maria held you tightly, trying to soothe you as she tucked your face into her shoulder. “Don’t watch.”

“Joel, fuckin’ stop!” Tommy struggled to keep him in place. “You’re scarin’ her half to death!”

“I don’t fuckin’ care—”

Tommy’s hands clutched the collar of his shirt and he slammed Joel back against the wall so hard the mirror, or at least whatever was left of it, fell down, the frame breaking in half as it hit the floor. “Well I think you fuckin’ should. She’s pregnant, Joel.”

You lifted your head from Maria’s shoulder, feeling your throat go dry.

Everything seemed have come to a standstill—the room had fallen silent, but it didn’t last last long as Ellie whirled around, looking at you with wide eyes and a slack jaw. “You’re fucking pregnant?”

Joel looked over at you, just as shocked. “What?”

Tommy grabbed his chin, forcing his older brother to look at him once more. “It’s true,” he murmured quietly. “So take a fuckin’ breath and calm down—for her sake and for the sake of your child.”

He released him and took a careful step backward towards Luke, who was still groaning on the floor. Once he realized Joel wasn’t going to go off again, Tommy turned around and grabbed the other man by the lapels of his jacket, pulling him to his feet in a rough, careless manner.

“C’mon,” he said, dragging him towards the door.

“Where are you taking him?” Maria asked.

“I’m gonna throw his ass in a fuckin’ cell and leave him in there ‘til we figure out what to do with him.

Joel glanced down at his bloody, torn up knuckles and then turned to you, his eyes meeting yours.

Neither of you knew what to say to each other.

So neither of you uttered a single word.

Maria cleared her throat. “We should probably get out of here,” she suggested. “Let’s go to mine and Tommy’s while we wait for him to get back.”

“Are you cold?” Ellie asked you. She held up a blue fleece throw blanket she’d dug out from the closet in the hallway despite you telling her not to go and snooping around the house while Maria was in the bathroom tending to Joel’s hand.

Shaking your head, you sighed, “I’m fine.”

“But it’s cold in here.” She draped the blanket over your shoulders. “Can I get you something? Water? Are you hungry? You should probably eat—”

“Ellie, please stop fussing.” You patted the spot on the couch beside you. “Just sit with me, okay?”

Nodding, she sat down and angled herself toward you, getting a closer look at the wound you’d been left with.

“Shit,” Ellie muttered. Grimacing, she lifted a hand and gingerly pressed her fingertips to your neck in disbelief. “Fuck, dude. How bad does it hurt?” She touched a particulary sore spot, causing you to let out a small hiss of pain. She yanked her hand back and sputtered, “Oh fuck, I’m sorry! I’m so sorry—”

Wincing, you assured her, “It’s fine. It’s just tender right now, that’s all.”

She observed you carefully. “Are you okay?”

“It’ll heal, Ellie. It looks worse than it really is—”

“No, I mean—” Pausing, Ellie moved her hand and placed it on your stomach. “Is the baby okay?”

You glanced down at yourself, as if you’d expected to see something different about yourself. But you were only at about about six weeks, and there was nothing to see, no significant changes—perhaps it was the reason why there was a part of you having a pretty hard time grasping that Ellie was asking if the baby was okay. If your baby was okay.

After a minute, you nodded. “Yeah, I think so,” You replied softly, putting a hand over hers.

Relieved, Ellie gave you a small smile. “Good.”

“How are you two doing in here?” Maria appeared in the living room with Joel trailing behind her; his right hand was wrapped up in a white bandage.

“We’re okay.” Ellie glanced at Joel. “You okay?”

He gave a quick, subtle nod of his head. “M’fine.”

“So we can take her home now, right?” When Ellie didn’t get an immediate response, she tossed him a little glare. “She’s coming him with us, isn’t she? I mean, she fucking has to come home with us.”

You sank back into the couch, uncomfortable with the tension that filled the room when he still didn’t answer her question. All Joel could do was stare at you, his lips pressed onto a tight, thin line.

“Ellie, how about we go into the kitchen and make some tea?” Maria beckoned to her with her hand.

She snorted, “Seriously? Who the hell wants te—”

Maria pinned her with an exasperated glare.

“Oh shit, okay. I get it now,” Ellie quickly realized it was simply an excuse to leave the room. Dropping her hand away from your stomach, she jumped up to her feet and wrapped her arms around you. Her hug was brief, but full of warmth and reassurance; as if she were silently telling you it was going to be okay. She let go and followed Maria to the kitchen, leaving you and Joel alone.

Nervously, you stood up, your knees wobbling.

You felt torn—torn between wanting to run over to jump into his arms and wanting to run in the other direction and find somewhere to bury your head in shame. You’d assured him that you couldn’t bear a child, and now here you were, carrying his, putting a responsibility on his shoulders he didn’t ask for.

That he probably didn’t want.

On top of everything he’d been through with you.

No, because of you. And now this?

Somehow, you mustered the courage to speak.

“Joel,” You squeaked his name. “Say something.”

“You sure you’re pregnant?” He asked, quietly. He stood across the room, making no moves to come closer.

Swallowing, you nodded slowly. “Yeah. I’m sure.”

“How long have you known?”

“I only just found out yesterday,” You swore.

“And Tommy and Maria fuckin’ knew before me?”

It was hard to pinpoint if he was angry or if he was disappointed—not that either was a better option than the other.

“I was here with them yesterday in the afternoon. I got sick and Maria’s the one who suspected it and suggested I take a pregnancy test after I’d realized I haven’t had a period since August.” Shifting from one foot to the other, you continued to explain, “It never even fucking crossed my mind, Joel. I didn’t notice anything—missing my period, the dizziness and the nausea. I was too busy trying to keep from fucking falling apart without you.”

Joel’s harsh expression suddenly softened.

“When the results turned out positive, I just lost it. I fucking lost it and I told Tommy and Maria about all of it because I was so scared.” Your voice broke and just when you’d thought you couldn’t possibly shed another tear that night, one slipped out from the corner of your eye and rolled down the side of your face and several more threatened to follow in suit. “They offered to help me. They wanted to get me out last night, but I was too fucking stubborn. I thought I’d be fine for more night, but when Luke came home, he wanted to be intimate with me.”

Joel sucked in a sharp breath, the anger boiling in his veins all over again. “And did he—he touch you like that?”

“I didn’t let him. I couldn’t let him. I told him not to touch me and I pushed him away.”

“Then what happened?”

“I told him that it was over. That our marriage was over and I was leaving. That’s when he took off his belt and he—”

Gesturing to your neck, you started sobbing again as images of the night before flooded your mind.

Luke had done pretty horrific things to you before, but this? This had been the worst of them.

Joel rushed over to you, pulling you into his arms.

“Shh, baby. S’alright now,” he soothed. “S’alright, you’re safe now.”

You melted right into his touch, the touch that you had been missing with every fiber of your being.

“I’m so sorry, Joel,” You croaked into his chest.

He pulled away slightly. “Sorry for what?”

“For everything.”

“You ain’t got nothin’ to apologize for, sweet girl.”

You let out a tearful scoff. “Joel, I’m pregnant. And it’s fucking yours,” You reminded him, giving him a guilty look. “Don’t you remember how worried you were about it? And how I told you you had nothing to to be concerned about?”

“Hey, don’t put this all on yourself, Peach.”

You almost smiled—oh how you’d fucking missed hearing him call you that.

“This is on me too. Part of me knew there was still a possibility, but I didn’t care. All I cared ‘bout was makin’ you mine every fuckin’ chance I got.” Joel’s hand cupped the side of your face and he let out a nervous chuckle. “At one point I kinda thought I’m at the age where I’m probably shootin’ nothin’ but blanks, anyway. Guess we were both wrong. And if you’re scared I’m upset ‘bout it, well, you’re wrong ‘bout that too, darlin’.”

Surprised, you couldn’t help but ask, “Wait, so you want—you mean, you actually want the baby?”

It was his turn to be taken aback.

“You thought I wouldn’t want it?”

“Yeah,” You admitted, sheepishly. “I thought you’d be really mad about this if I’m being honest, Joel. I wasn’t sure if you’d even want anything to do with it.” Noticing he’d taken some offense to the notion that he wouldn’t want his own child, you exhaled a small sigh and placed a hand on his chest. “Joel, it doesn’t mean—can you honestly blame me? When you were the one who was so damn worried about me getting knocked up in the first place? Wouldn’t you have thought the same if you were me?”

He grazed your cheek with his thumb. “Can’t lie to you, my sweet girl. I probably would have.” Letting his hand fall away from your face, Joel took a seat on the couch and pulled you down onto his lap. He hesitated, at first, but then put his bandaged hand on your stomach. “It sure as hell wasn’t in my plan to have a baby in my fifties. I might need a little bit of time to fully come to terms with it, but this kid’s part of me and part of you. ‘Course I want it. Ain’t no way that I don’t.”

Relieved, you leaned into his chest.

“You alright?” Joel murmured, pressing a kiss into your hair.

Burying your face into his neck, you breathed him in.

“I am now that I’m with you,” You confessed as he wrapped his arms around you, holding you tighter than he ever had before.

“I’m gonna take real good care of you, darlin’. Both of you,” Joel reassured you softly. “Nothin’s gonna hurt you, baby. S’long as you’re with me nothin’ or no one is ever gonna hurt you again. I swear it.”

Lyrics: Nothing’s Gonna Hurt You Baby - Cigarettes After Sex

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angelfrombeneth · 3 months ago

Text

PRACTICE MAKES PERFECT, RIGHT? - N . CHAVEZ

Mature Content Ahead

Nicholas Chavez x F!Actress Reader

Warnings: SMUT

Summary: You and Nicholas are costars in a new show - Grotesqueire. When it is time to film a sex scene, you aren't ready; awkward tension takes over, but you know what they say; Practice makes perfect.

Note: I just want to say thank you so much for 1k followers and I hope you enjoy this one - and if you are new here, check out my other works. I have new stuff coming, feel free to request in my inbox for a specific character.

If you are looking for a part 2, please read this post as it explains my reasonings behind not making a part 2.

The filming for Grotesqueire has been underway for a few weeks now, this is your first big role in any media which you are extremely excited for. The show has an extremely interesting script, which is one of the reasons you wanted to put your all into your audition - which got you here.

"Y/N, I need you on set B in 5 minutes" Someone shouted from outside the trailer.

You sat up, taking your glasses off as you put them aside as you grabbed your contact case, quickly putting your contacts. You grab your veil, before exiting your trailer and walking towards the set. Crew preparing sets around you as you pass through different hallways, so much going on in one place but somehow you still felt at home.

"I was wondering where you were" You heard Nicholas laugh behind you as you turned to face him.

You laughed, turning to him as you smiled. Nicholas was your co-star playing a weirdly odd but kinky priest - and well, he was definitely lovely to look at.

"Nicholas, what are you doing?" The costume leader came scrambling over. "That isn't your costume for this scene- come!" She grabbed his arm, pulling him out of the set.

You laughed at Nicholas getting dragged away before walking upon the director and listening to your scene directions.

You sat upon your position on the set, the hairstylist coming to fit the veil upon your head properly, fixing your hair under it as you noticed Nicholas enter the set from the side of your view. You turn to look at him, your eye quirking up at his costume- well lack of costume.

"Nicholas why are you wearing just a towel?" You laughed.

"I have no idea- This is what Marissa gave me-" He spoke but was quickly cut off by the director on the megaphone.

"Alright! So can we get Talia on set please!"

You watched a girl walk up to you and Nicholas, smiling as she held a clipboard. "Y/N! Nicholas! I am very grateful to meet you, I am Talia your intimacy coordinator"

You blinked. You read the script you knew it was coming but you didnt realise it would be so early on. Nicholas shared a similar face to you.

"Now, don't worry, we will go over the main aspects and go over any boundaries the pair of you have" She smiled.

The next twenty minutes were spent with you, Nicholas and the intimacy coordinator. You were still shocked. It wasn't that you couldn't do it - Nicholas was attractive, and all, and the attraction for the scene was definitely there; it was just the awkwardness of it.

After talking Talia deemed you guys to be okay to proceed, the horn sounded round the studio as the pair of you prepared for your scene.

The tension loomed in the air as you stared at Nicholas from the doorway, reciting your lines.

"Can you dry my back sister... please" He hummed, passing a folded white towel over to you. You took it, walking behind him as he kneeled infront of the bed. You took the towel, slowly sliding it over his back full of gashes, cleaning the blood from his back as your finger ran over the bumps. You let your hand reset to his shoulder, softly gripping it as he hummed, it was what was scripted but it felt.. awkward.

"CUT!-" Shot through the studio as alarms sounded once more. Talia and the director came over, looking at you and Nicholas.

"Maybe lets take a break, you two talk through the scene and try and coordinate something. It feels.." The direction tapped his chin as he spoke.

"Awkward. It was very tense and not good tense" Talia sighed.

The pair of you nodded, walking out of the studio and towards the trailer as you groaned, flinging open the door as you tore the veil off your head yet again.

Nicholas sat on the couch looking up at you snickering as you groaned, sitting beside him, tossing your legs over his as you leaned back on the couch.

"I had no clue we were filming.. that today. It's just.. awkward" You looked at him, watching his body face yours completely as he held your full attention. The way his eyes stared into yours as you spoke.

"I mean if it makes you feel any better, I was pretty nervous. I didnt really know what to do and its just unfamilar i guess, its not a regular sex scene its gotta be.. kinky" He chuckled.

He made you feel comfortable. No pressure at all, the awkwardness was lifting bit by bit, showing the light under the fog.

"I mean what if we just.. you know" You blurted.

"If we just what?" Nicholas looked at you confused. "Fucked?"

"I mean you said it not me.." You looked around the room, trying to break the obvious tension as he laughed at your reaction. "I mean, for the scene right?" You smirked.

"Yeah for the scene." You sat up and looked at him as he spoke, crawling towards him slightly. You paused just before him. One of your hands gripping his thigh as the other held his shoulder.

The pair of you looked at each other for a brief moment, the balance of friends and coworkers about to be broken. As much as you wanted to chant in your head, 'it's for work, for work,' it wasn't, was it.

Your lips softly connected with his, wrapping your arms around his neck as he pulled you in, sitting upon his lap, your legs wrapping and encasing him between. His lips mimicked your movement, slowly moving against yours, matching your pace and rhythm.

You pulled away briefly for a moment, looking at him. "This is work right..?" You chuckled.

"Definitely work" He smirked, pushing himself up, sending you up as he pulled apart your dress, the top clasps undoing as you kissed him forcefully. Your arms flew around his neck as he tugged the dress down slightly.

Your lips interlocked as you kissed each other hungrily, your hands combing through his locks as he slid all over your torso, pinching and grabbing at the flesh.

You both wouldn't admit it, but this was a long time coming. With the subtle flirting on and off set, you both were excited for the sex scene to finally be able to 'get a taste' as Nicholas said - but you didn't expect this.

You pulled away, gripping the waist of the dress as you dragged it up your body, pulling it up over your head as you dropped it to the floor, allowing yourself to fall back against the couch, your arms around his neck as you guided him ontop of you.

"Fuck-" Nicholas groaned, towering above you as he stared down as you adored in your black lace set as you stared up at him. "Is lingere supposed to be apart of the costume.. I mean stockings? Really? The dress covers it" His hand slid down your thigh to your calf, feeling the silky sheer material covering your bare skin.

"Personal touch" You smirked at him, your hands holding his shoulders as he licked his lips.

Nicholas's head turned to the side, kissing the wrist of your hand as it held his shoulder, taking the hand as he kissed up your arm slowly, gaining closer and closer.

You pulled him down towards you, rubbing his neck softly as you pecked his lips softly. "Nick- This is mad" You laughed out.

A smile covered his lips as he kissed your cheek, to your jaw and slowly down your neck, nipping occasionally. "Its practice... for work of course"

"The for work excuse has been.. overused~" You melted into his touch, your hands resting softly upon his hips above the towel that fixed upon his body. You tugged his hips closer, noticing his lips depart from your collarbone as he peered up at you.

He licked his lips, sitting back upon his knees as he stared down at you, that cheeky grin on his face. "Now, got to act suprised in the scene, I'll give you a little preview" He snickered.

You reached forward for his towel, tugging it as it puddled at his knees. You gawked for a moment, you didnt expect him to actually be pare naked under the towel - acting and all, you'd think he'd have some sort of cover.

"The director thought it would be more authentic to be completely naked under the towel.... For gravity purposes" He winked, his hands sliding down your waist, hooking his fingers through the sides of your underwear, slowly pulling them down your body.

"That's a terrible excuse" You laughed as you lifted your feet out of your underwear as he dropped them on the floor. You sat up, pushing his chest as he sat back on the couch.

"Calm down, cowgirl", He snickered, leaning back as he stared at you; one of his heads reached to rest upon your hip, the other clasped around himself as he gradually began to pump.

You reached back, unclasping your bra and sliding it off slowly as you threw it at him, the pair of you laughing. The sight of him leant back against the couch, hot and bothered as he stared at you while touching himself was all too much, it was making you hot and bothered.

"Fuck me, you are so hot Nicholas" you brought your hands to your face, covering your eyes as you let out a loud drawn out sigh.

"Genes.. what can I tell you" He smiled, as you leaned forward pecking his lips softly a few times. His grin seeping into the kiss as you stared at him, your noses touching eachother slightly.

You leaned in, capturing him in a soft kiss, instantly reciprocated as both his hands gripped your waist. You sat in his lap, softly grinding down against him - humming softly within the kiss at the friction.

You noticed his eagerness as his hips would occasionally buckle up against yours, one of his heads to your neck, gripping it softly as he pulled you closer - the pair of you intensely making out.

Your hands raked through his hair, tugging and stroking it as his hand tested with pressure around your neck as you hummed softly, lightly moaning within the kiss.

You pulled away abruptly, looking down as you took him into your hand as you slowly guided him into you as you let out a light and soft moan, which was sounded out by his own moan.

"Fuckkkk-" His head fell backwards as his hands fell upon your waist, guiding you slowly.

You looked down at him, your hands holding his shoulders as you slowly rutted your hips against his, grinding down against him. Watching his face twitch in pleasure as his breathing stuttered at each movement.

"You are so vocal" You laughed, pecking his lips softly as you rested your forehead against his, continuing to grind down against him, watching his body for every single twitched movement.

"Cant help it- Does it bother y-you.." He stared up at you, slightly breathless as he grinned, his eyes half lidded.

"Absolutely not.. turns me on if anything" You chuckled, kissing his cheek softly as you leaned down to nibble on his ear lobe as you continued to ride him.

Nicholas continued to groan in your ear, making you smirk as you speed up your movements, dropping your body weight down against him harshly as you bucked your hips back and forth. Cusses spewed from his lips as you continued to do so. 'Fuck' 'Shit' 'Holy Fuuuck-', continued to fall from his lips as you hummed softly, soft moans leaving yours.

You watched him intently as his eyes rolled back, his eyes staying hooded as he tried to steady his breathing. Smirking as you noticed the effect you had over him, especially how cocky he is normally.

Your movements slowed down as you panted softly, leaning against him for balance and he noticed. Nicholas picked you up, causing you to yelp momentarily as you pushed you up against a desk.

"Getting tired?" He smirked, pressing his hands against the wall behind you, as he thrusted harshly forward - causing you to gulp back a moan. Your fists clenching as you stared up at him.

"I thought-" You groaned, at each thrust he made, pressing your hands against his chest as you steadied your breathing.

"Mhm.. You thought wrong; I was definitely enjoying before, though.." He pecked your lips softly, leaning to your ear. "My turn now" He whispered.

His hands hooked under your thighs, lifting your lower body up slightly as he continued to thrust into you. You yelped out, shutting your eyes as you tried to control yourself from the overwhelming feeling of pleasure, trying hard to not let go so soon. His lips harshly locked against your neck, as he sucked and bit down against the flesh.

"Nicholas-" You gasped out, moaning softly as your fingernails clawed down his back harshly.

"Shhhh" He cooed, as he licked up your neck, his hips continuing to slam against yours as the desk rocked below the pair of you.

"So fucking good- holy-" You gasped, staring at him as you laughed out slightly, his lips curling up into a smile as he continued to thrust, his hands holding your hips up just above the desk as you locked your legs around his waist tightly.

He dropped you harshly against the wood, placing a hand on your neck, kissing you roughly as you raced to reciprocate. His tongue halfway down your throat as your hands slid down his chest, your fingers feeling between the crevises of his sculpted chest. His free hand, cupping your breast as he squeezed it occasionally.

You hummed needingly into the kiss as his thumb pressed pressure against the front of your throat, causing you to tighten - which he felt. You could feel the smirk on his face as he kissed you, his tongue exploring your mouth as you helplessly allowed it.

You felt his whole hand clamp down on your neck with pressure. Your breath hitched for a moment at the sheer shock as he pulled away, your foreheads resting against one another, beads of sweat falling and mixing within each other as you gasped, staring into his eyes as he thrust deeply, holding himself within you.

"...Nick.." you croaked out as he stared at you, his eyes blown out with lust as he leaned in, biting your lip between his teeth as he held his eye contact with you, his thumb still pressed hard against the front of your throat.

He took his free hand, sliding his middle finger and index finger past your lips and into your mouth as you stared at him. You gave him no indication against it which caused his dick to twitch. He began to thrust against yet this time harder but slower. Your body rebounded each time, pushing yourself into the wall that you could've meshed into it. You sucked on his fingers, tugging his hair as you run your hand down his face, caressing it as you let out a guttural moan as he trusted once more.

"Good girl.. cum for me" He whispered, withdrawing his fingers from your mouth and removing his hand from your neck as his face flew to yours, your lips instantly crashing upon one another as he gripped your hips, pulling you forward and roughly thrusting into you.

You moaned into his mouth, panting heavily as you drew closer and closer to your high. Your leg twitching as you threw your head back as his lips sucked and nipped at your neck as you screamed out loudly. Your hands clawing down his back as you came undone.

You were too dazed in your high, groaning and panting as Nicholas pulled out, groaning as he pumped himself watching as your whole body twitched.

Your legs flung closed as you stared at him, exhausted as he whined before he came on your thigh, whimpering and panting as he did so, his arm leant against the wall behind you as it supported his weight - his face mere centermeters away.

"Holy fuck-" You chuckled, out of breath as you stared at him.

His chest rose and fell as he stared up at you with hooded eyes. His finger swiping his cum off your thigh as he held it up to you.

You smirked, leaning forward and sucking it off his finger as you looked at him. He smiled at you before pushing himself off the wall as he stumbled back to the couch, laying back on it as he sighed - catching his breath.

"That was more of a workout than my actual workout sessions.. jesus Christ", Nicholas groaned, his arm resting up above him.

You pulled yourself off the desk, your legs slightly wobbly as you slowly approached him. You sat beside his head, lifting it and resting it against your thigh as you sighed.

"I think we've got the sex scene down, don't you.." You laughed, running your fingers through his hair.

"Oh, definitely" He smirked up at you.

It was safe to say, when the pair of you finally caught your breath you showered and got rechanged into your costumes. You had to cover up all the marks on your neck but for Nicholas it was fine, he was already marked by makeup so hopefully no one could tell the difference.

When the pair of you got to set, you definitely delivered the sex scene, going beyond the script. Hair pulling, finger sucking, tit grabbing, ass grabbing - the lot. Safe to say everyone was impressed.

"CUT! That was exactly what we needed, guys!" The director clapped as you and Nicholas stared at each other, panting slightly. You smirked, looking down at the tent under the towel Nicholas was wearing.

"Please don't move- it'll be so fucking embarrassing", Nicholas begged. You chuckled, patting his chest.

#nicholas chavez #nicholas alexander chavez #nicholas chavez x reader #nicholas chavez smut #grotesquerie #charlie mayhew #nicholas chavez x female reader #nicholas chavez x actress!reader #nicholas chavez fanfiction #nicholas chavez fic #angelfrombenethfics

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melzula · 10 months ago

Note

well since requests are open i wanted to request a zuko fic?

zuko x waterbender reader in which someone from team avatar walks in on them kissing?

i feel like it’d be funny idk lol 😂

a/n: i love this trope it’s so funny. also it’s like subtly mentioned reader is a water bender since i didn’t wanna just shove it in there awkwardly. anyway hope you enjoy!

summary: a private moment between you and your boyfriend is interrupted by your unsuspecting friends

“Are you sure no one saw you come in here?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” Zuko says with a huff after closing the flaps of your tent. “You know, I’m starting to think you’re embarrassed to be seen with me.”

“You know that’s not true,” you argue with a frown. “I just enjoy having some privacy. I know those guys are going to make a big deal about us being together, and I just want to enjoy our relationship without having to deal with any prying eyes.”

“I know,” he admits with a sigh. “I’m just tired of sneaking around. Do you know how difficult it is not to kiss you or check on you after a fight with my sister? It’s torture.”

“It’s just until the war is over. There’s a lot at stake right now, and it would be a weird time to come clean. It’ll be over before you know it.”

“I hope you’re right,” Zuko murmurs with a frown, one that immediately melts away at the feel of your arms wrapping around his midsection. It’s hard to be upset when you’re smiling up at him with the purest look of adoration in your eyes. Despite everything, all of his flaws and mistakes and cruelty, you love him, and it fuels the warmth inside of his heart knowing he has someone like you. Maybe he would have joined the Avatar and his friends sooner if he knew it would lead him to you.

“At least we’re finally alone,” he notes with a faint smile before leaning down to press his lips against your own in a long awaited kiss. He hasn’t been able to give or receive affection all day, and it isn’t until now with your chest pressed against his own that he’s finally able to truly feel relaxed.

Unfortunately, you’re both too engrossed in each other to notice the rustling of your tent flaps as Sokka and Toph let themselves in without a second thought.

“Hey, y/n, Toph and I are gonna head into town, do you want to- oh, gross!” He cries after catching Zuko and yourself mid lip lock.

You both jump at the intrusion, knocking your head together on accident and groaning in unison at the impact.

“Sokka!” You cry out in embarrassment. “Monkey feathers, don’t you knock?!”

“It’s a tent! There is no knocking!” He yells back defensively, equally as upset as you are. “I can’t believe you guys were kissing!”

“We weren’t kissing,” Zuko argues, his face red with embarrassment. “We were… hugging… with our… mouths?”

“Oh, spirits,” you groan, your palm hitting your forehead in embarrassment at Zuko’s horrible attempt at lying. For a Prince, he has a terrible way with words. You’d think all that time spent with his Uncle would make his vocabulary more eloquent.

“If Toph could see she’d be very upset right now!” Sokka scolds, but the girl beside him simply shrugs.

“Actually, this works out great for me. Katara owes me five gold pieces now,” she says with a grin.

“You guys knew they were dating and didn’t tell me?!” The water tribe boy says in offense.

“I had a hunch, but Katara disagreed, so we made a bet.”

“Enough already! This is mortifying enough as it is,” you groan impatiently. “Sokka, we’ll talk about this later. For now, I need both of you out!”

After getting the two to leave the tent, you shut it closed with an irritated sigh. You’re absolutely humiliated, and you don’t think you can show your face to your friends ever again.

“So much for keeping it a secret,” the fire bender mutters.

“You,” you say with an accusatory finger pointed at the Prince, “need to learn how to lie better.”

“I know,” he admits meekly, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. Sighing, you open your water pouch and tend to the growing bump on his head from your previous collision. You can’t stay mad at him when he looks so flustered and sweet, so instead you merely throw your arms around his neck and pull him back in for another kiss.

You can focus on coming clean later. For now, you just want to enjoy your moment of peace with the boy you love.

| zuko tags: @thebluelcdy @royahllty @the-firebender-girl @ilovespideyyy @yiyibetch @eridanuswave @lammello @a-monsters-love @knaite-solo @taeeemin @lora21

#zuko #zuko x reader #zuko imagine #prince zuko #prince zuko x reader #prince zuko imagine #atla #atla x reader #atla imagine #avatar the last airbender #request

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ak319 · 4 months ago

Text

Dark Arthur Morgan x sis reader

(WARNINGS?MDNI: Abuse, misogyny , possessiveness, restrictions// i don't condone such behaviour irl!.) +Arthur is in his 20's here

"And what about this question, ma'am?" you asked, leaning over Mrs. Anne, your teacher. She ran a small homeschool for girls and Montessori for kids with some of the little kids being your friends' siblings. It was such a cozy, safe environment for studying. Classes started in the afternoon, around 4:30 p.m., and went on until the evening, usually wrapping up by 7 or 8.

You lived in Strawberry with your dad, Lyle, and your older brother, Arthur Morgan. Your dad had changed a lot after your mother's death, becoming an alcoholic and often disappearing for days. Arthur, on the other hand--he was your shield, making you feel both protected and suffocated at the same time. Since your father was usually too lost in his own world or away from home, he didn’t bother you much, only occasionally checking in as if to remind you he was still your father. Meh.

But Arthur--he took his role far too seriously. In fact, he thought he should take on both his and your father’s duties. That’s why you had to ask--or rather, beg--him to let you attend Mrs. Anne's classes when you first heard about them from Isla, your friend who had shown you the poster.

Strawberry wasn’t that big of a town, and after verifying everything about Mrs. Anne, Arthur finally agreed--thankfully. But only on the condition that he would pick you up and drop you off himself. He used to be caring, but not like this. Your mother’s death had changed the two men in the house in completely opposite ways. One stopped caring altogether, while the other became overbearing. And you were just trying to survive, making the best of it.

The urge to run away with your friends felt all too real sometimes. But then you’d think what would Arthur might do if he ever found you? That’s where all your plans would fall apart. You had also learned, through Arthur, that neither he nor your father were earning their money honestly. He tried to keep it from you at first, but eventually told you when you were old enough. You had your suspicions anyway--his words were just confirmation.

Today was like any other day. Arthur had dropped you off outside Mrs. Anne's house as usual. But by 7:30, the weather took a sudden turn--it started raining heavily out of nowhere. It had been a bit windy earlier, but there was no sign of rain. Yet here it was, pouring down. Time passed, and it was now 8:10 p.m., but your idiot of a brother still hadn't shown up to pick you up. You were feeling awkward staying at your teacher's home, despite Mrs. Anne and her husband being the sweetest people. You’d already had two cups of hot chocolate with your friend, Isla, and didn’t want to impose any further.

"(Y/N), he might not come with this heavy rain. We could walk to your house together--it’s not that far," Isla suggested, whispering. It was just the two of us left, as most of the girls had gone home earlier. You both had work to finish, but even if you’d finished sooner, you couldn’t leave without Arthur. Going home without him wasn’t the first option.

"But what if he comes here after we leave?"

Isla groaned. "Mrs. Anne will tell him that we headed to your place. Look at me--my house is even further than yours, what the hell would I do-- oh my God! I can just stay at yours tonight! I already told my mother that if it rains, I might stay over at yours. Let’s just go!."

She had a point. Maybe Arthur was out doing--well, you didn’t even want to think about it. After taking leave from Mrs. Anne, the two of you dashed to your house with the umbrellas she had given you.

Once you reached the small, humble abode, you both headed to your room with the food you had prepared earlier, settling in to chat and relax while enjoying the soothing sound of the rain.

"Where are your dad and brother?" Isla asked.

You shrugged. "I mean--Dad being absent is normal, but Arthur is usually home by now. I’m kind of worried."

"Seriously, (Y/N)? I’d be happy to have the house to myself for a change. Not to mention, some space. He’s--kind of scary, isn’t he?"

"Scary? Well, yeah, sometimes. But trust me, he’s nice and caring. More than Dad could ever be. It does get a bit too much at times, though."

"Mhm. And it’s kind of messed up, isn’t it? The work they do. Both of them." Isla was the only friend you’d confided in about your family, and that was only because she had once seen Arthur with Dutch, a shady con man who often visited Strawberry or rather his boss. You hated Dutch despite never meeting him. He's the reason your brother is now on the same path as your dad.

"What can I do about it? I’ve tried talking to him, but he always shuts me out--" Your eyes caught a glimpse of a paper sticking out of the side pocket of your bag. "Wait, what’s that?"

You pulled out the paper, and both you and Isla began reading it. It was some kind of confession addressed to Mavis, another girl in your class. You couldn’t figure out who wrote it or why it was in your bag. The writer had only signed with an initial: A.

"Oh! Wait, wait, wait! It must be Amell. I saw him whispering to a kid outside from the window. He must be the one who gave this to him to put in Mavis’s bag."

"Amell who? And how did this end up in my bag?" you asked, confusion evident on your face as you looked back at the note.

Isla leaned back against the headboard, stretching her limbs with a relaxed sigh. "Amell is Mrs. Anne’s son. I’ve seen him talking to Mavis before. You and Mavis were sitting together today, and you both have the same colored bags. The kid must’ve gotten confused."

“Is the kid we’re talking about, Anders? He’s so dumb,” you said, shaking your head with a soft chuckle. “Anyway, don’t let me forget to hand this to Mavis tomorrow.”

Suddenly, the door to your room burst open, and Arthur stormed in.

Your eyebrows furrowed at his sudden intrusion. "Um... hi?" you said, your tone a mix of surprise and uncertainty.

Isla straightened up, her eyes quickly avoiding Arthur’s gaze, as she gave a hesitant but polite greeting as well.

"How did you get home?" Arthur's voice was cold, cutting through the room.

"Isla and I came together. Where were you, though?" you asked, trying to keep your tone casual despite the tension.

Arthur’s gaze shifted to Isla. "Isla, the rain has stopped. You should go home. Your family must be waiting."

Isla looked at you, confusion clear on her face. "She’s staying becau-"

"Not today," Arthur interrupted firmly.

"Why not? Are you going to tell me where you were?" you shot back, frustration creeping into your voice.

"Y/N, I--I’ll see you tomorrow."

You let Isla leave, your irritation with Arthur growing. You wanted to talk openly without making Isla uncomfortable in the middle of the family drama. As you moved to escort her to the front door, Arthur abruptly blocked your path. "Stay here," he commanded, his tone brooking no argument.

You sighed and sank back onto the bed, shoving the letter--which was still in your hand--back into your bag. Arthur stormed back in and slammed the door a bit too hard.

"What’s gotten into you?" you asked, trying to keep your voice calm despite the frustration bubbling up inside.

Arthur’s eyes were cold, his jaw set. "What did I tell you about coming home alone?" His irritation was palpable, fixated on the condition he had imposed.

"Well, what was I supposed to do, stay there? It’s 9 p.m.! Where were you?" Your words seemed to only fuel his anger, rather than penetrate his stubbornness.

Arthur’s gaze hardened. "I’ve noticed your tone changing recently, ever since you started going there. What exactly are they teaching you at that place, huh?"

"Basic knowledge. Like not overstaying your welcome at someone’s house when you can walk home," you retorted, trying to keep your tone steady despite your rising frustration.

Arthur’s eyes narrowed further as he took a few steps closer. "Is that so?" His voice was low, dangerously calm. "Well, our dear father got arrested, so I was at the sheriff's. And as for ‘basic knowledge,’" he said, grabbing your bag and dumping its contents onto the floor.

"HEY! My books!!" you exclaimed, a mix of shock and anger in your voice.

"Mhm, what might this be?" Arthur’s attention was fixed on the letter he had seen earlier. He picked it up and read it, his expression darkening as his suspicions were confirmed. "A confession, hmm? An A? This is what you two were gigglin' about earlier?" he murmured, crumpling the letter in his fist, his gaze still locked on it. You gritted your teeth, trying to keep your composure.

"A for… Amell, her son, right?" Arthur’s tone was icy, his eyes boring into you as he processed the revelation.

"What even--- That wasn’t for me! It was for Mavis! Have you forgotten to read?!" you protested, trying to defend yourself. He scoffed at your reply, eyes twinkling with amusement. "So Mavis is your codename?"

"Are you serious?"

Arthur’s eyes narrowed dangerously. "Did he drop you both home, or just you alone? Huh?" His fists clenched tightly, and you could see the anger boiling beneath his calm exterior. Arthur's boots struck the floor with a deliberate, menacing rhythm.

"What are you on about, Arthur? You know that’s not true! A kid put it in my bag. Look, it’s not mine. You can ask Isla."

Arthur’s gaze hardened even further. "Why should I ask her? Hm? She’s your partner in crime, isn’t she? And it’s not like you’re going to see her again."

"W-what? What does that mean?!" you stammered, panic rising in your voice. But nothing could have prepared you for the next moment. Your hands were now on his as he gripped your jaw, your body instinctively going stiff, the fear evident in your eyes. This was the first time he had raised his hands to you in such a threatening manner.

"Yes, no more Isla and no more of that whorehouse you go to. You’ve studied enough. I’ve been too lenient with you." A pained whimper escaped your lips as his gloved fingers dug into your jaw.

"N-no-don’t do that! Why are you not believing me, Arthur?!" you pleaded, your voice breaking. He shoved you by your jaw, sending you crashing to the floor. Your head narrowly missed hitting the bed’s edge.

"If you utter one more word or try to set a foot outside until I say so, especially to that school of yours, I WILL BREAK YOUR FUCKING LEGS!"

His heavy breathing was the only sound you could hear as you stared at the floor, your vision blurred by tears and chest tight with fear and anxiety. He can easily break you in two if he wants to right now, even Isla's gone. "I am here, working these jobs to keep a roof over your head while that fool has clearly given up, and you’re here, frolicking with your lovers! Learning to write fucking love letters." He stood over you, his anger uncontrollable, and grabbed you by your hair, forcing you to lift your head slightly.

"You’ve enjoyed yourself enough. Now stay at the fucking house and make it a home, like Mother did, like you are supposed to do. And I’m dead serious when I say you don’t want me seeing you going near that house or interacting with those little friends of yours, got it? Because I have eyes and ears everywhere." His words were a chilling threat, leaving you too stunned to fully grasp their meaning.

"DO YOU FUCKING UNDERSTAND?!" he demanded, his voice thunderous. He yanked your hair with a brutal force, his actions cold and devoid of the care he once showed you. This was the same brother who used to be so kind, now revealing his true, harsh colors over a simple misunderstanding.

"K-kay," you managed to choke out, nodding with tears streaming down your face. He released you with a rough shove.

"Get up and heat the food. I’m going to freshen up." And just like that, he left, leaving you alone in the oppressive silence. Your books lay scattered around you, their presence a painful reminder of a future now out of reach, as you were left enveloped in a cloud of despair.

Part II

191 notes · View notes

hadersversion · 6 months ago

Text

but daddy i love him!

“no, i’m not coming to my senses. i know he’s crazy but he’s the one i want.”

pairing: rafe cameron x innocent kook!reader

word count: 5.8k

warnings: smut, minors dni!!! dry humping & fingering. corruption kink of sorts (rafe and an innocent reader has taken over me fully i apologize). parental violence/verbal abuse. fighting. rafe showing his true colors but quickly hiding it from the reader because rafe is a big softie for them. pet names (sweetheart, honey, darling, baby, pretty/good girl). aftercare. let me know if i miss any!

mood board!

rafe cameron was bad news.

anyone in the outer banks could tell you that.

he was a fighter, a shit-talker, a guy who you couldn’t trust.

but there was something so intriguing about him that you just couldn’t turn away.

from the day you moved to island almost 10 years ago, you haven’t been able to get him off your mind. you would see him at parties, the country club, when you would hang out with his sister, around town on his motorbike with his buddies. but you had to push that crush deep down because no one in their right mind would go after that boy.

except you.

you stretched yourself on the court, waiting for your dad to come out with drinks before your tennis match. that’s when you saw him and his friends making their way to the locker room. they had just got done their round of golf, you could tell by their bags. you tried not to stare, but your eyes seemed to have a mind of their own.

“hey, y/n.” you heard him call, with a smirk painted across his face.

your face blushed and you waved to him. “hey rafe.” play it cool, play it cool.

you can see him look you up and down, staring at your legs. “nice skirt.”

you looked down at the new, white tennis skirt your dad had bought you for your report card. your fingers found a loose thread, beginning to toy with it to deal with the embarrassment you felt. “t-thanks.”

he nods before looking behind you. “mr. y/l/n.” he nods with a quick wave. you turn around to see your dad with two waters and a stern look on his face. “enjoy your game.” he says before going inside.

your dad stands over you as you sit, handing a water bottle over. “that cameron boy…” he lets out a deep sigh.

“what?” you question, getting up and brushing your legs off.

your dad pinches the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes. “he’s not the kind of guy you want to be friends with, sweetie. he’s a bad seed.”

“but how do you know that?” you question, trying not to sound too suspicious.

your dad picks up his racket and makes his way over to his side of the net. “i know ward cameron. and i know how rafe is just like his dad, thinks he can get anything he wants. thinks there is no consequences to life. but there is. there always is.” your dad shakes his head. “i saw him beating up some kid here not that long ago. sure, he was a pogue but doesn’t give rafe the right to walk around like the king of the outer banks. but until someone stops him, humbles him, things’ll never change.”

you stand there, uncomfortable. all you wanted to do was defend rafe, though you weren’t close like that. but your dad is a one way street. it’s his way or no way. so all you can do is nod. “oh…okay.” you say simply, getting ready for the match.

“just promise me you won’t get mixed up with the likes of that boy, please?” your father looks sincere.

you bite your lip and look down at your clean, white shoes. “yes sir.”

“good, now watch me beat you in tennis.” he says with a laugh. i fake a smile, getting on with the game, but still have rafe in the back of my mind.

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

you didn’t see rafe again until the night of a house party at topper’s house.

your friends and you walk in, buzzed from the pre-game. they immediately all go their separate ways, looking for drinks, boys, or both. this leaves you standing awkwardly by a table, talking to some people from school. they talk about prom, their grades, and teachers, making you mentally check out from the conversation. that’s when he catches your eye, he is talking to topper and kelce with a red solo cup in his hand. you watch his every move, how big and veiny his hands are, practically cover the entire cup. how he constantly pushes his hair back while he talks, almost seeming like a force of habit he has. he also licks his lips a lot, sending a very graphic image of rafe between your le-

he looks up, meeting your gaze. a blush forms on your face as you try to hide your embarrassment but taking a sip of alcohol from your cup. you give yourself some time, staring into the cup before looking up again. but when you look at him, he hasn’t stopped staring at you. the blush you fought so hard to keep away makes your face feel like it’s on fire.

you watch as he excuses himself and makes his way over to you. this has to be a dream? or some prank, right?

“hey there, y/n.” he snaps you out of your spiraling thoughts. every person who you are talking to looks over to rafe then back at you. “didn’t know you were coming.”

you awkwardly shrug. “last minute choice by my friends.”

his eyes burn holes into your body as he looks you up and down. “well, i’m glad you’re here.” you nod at him, offering a shy smile. “looks like you need another drink, come inside and i’ll get you one.” he nods his head towards the kitchen door. the group you're with is watching this conversation like it’s a TV show. you make my way through them and stand next to him. he automatically puts his hand on your back and leads you inside. the feeling of his touch sends chills down your spine but it almost feels like his hand is meant to be there. like his touch is the missing piece in your life.

you get into the kitchen and he heads towards the fridge, grabbing juice and handing it over. “you strike me as a vodka and juice, girl.” he says with a smile, making my insides melt.

“and what makes you say that?” you ask, putting your hand on my hip, playing into his little game of flirting.

“well, you’re sweet and you seem to play it safe. you don’t really drink a lot but when you do, you’re never blacked out.” he admits with a laugh, giving his diagnosis. “juice is sweet and vodka is the safest way to get a little drunk, in my opinion.” he stares at your face, waiting for a response.

“you’re good, rafe cameron. a little too good.” you admit, grabbing the juice and filling up the cup. he stands over you, giving me the vodka next. “didn’t know i was that easy to read.”

“you’re not.” he admits, staring down at you while you drink. “i just think i have a special interest in you.”

you freeze in place, there’s no way he’s admitting this to you. right now. the boy you’ve been pining after since the first grade. you can tell you're shutting down but you need to play it cool. “oh really?” you look up at his blue eyes, getting lost in them instantaneously.

“really.” he steps closer, inches away from my face. you know you are not that drunk but your head feels like it’s spinning under his gaze. he leans in a little closer, your noses brushing, when the kitchen door slams and topper can be seen stumbling in. his obnoxious laugh fills the room, making rafe close his eyes and sigh. “what could you possibly want right now?”

topper laughs and comes up beside rafe, he’s clearly fucked up. “i’m just looking for some weed, man.” he hits his chest playfully. “don’t let me get in your way.”

rafe pushes him away, making topper laugh harder at us. he looks at you before speaking. “sorry for being a cockblock.”

rafe narrows his eyes at him. “just get the fuck outta here, top.”

topper staggers into the other room, still laughing.

“sorry about him. when he drinks, he becomes an asshole.” he says, running a hand across his face.

“is he drunk all the time?” i ask with a new found confidence in my voice.

rafe looks at me and laughs. “seems to be.”

you both stand in silence, not moving away from each other but unable to bring the moment back.

“i like you.” he admits.

you stare at him, unable to speak. “w-what?”

“i think you heard me, y/n.” he smiles cockily, looking into your eyes.

you look back at him. “you barely know me, rafe.”

“doesn’t mean i can’t like you.” he sips his cup and nudges your shoulder with his. “i think you could say the same about me.” he gets closer, whispering into your ear. “don’t think i don’t notice how you stare at me when i’m around.”

you feel the air leave your body and you bite your lip. you feel like your cornered and have nowhere to go. “i-i-uh…”

he brushes his finger against your lip, almost like he’s shushing you. but you can’t even fight the way your body reacts to his touch. “it’s okay, honey. i like it. i like it a lot.” he says in a whisper, almost making you forget you aren’t the only two people in the world. it feels like you can read his mind just by looking into his blue eyes. he wants you…screw that, rafe cameron needs you. and you need him. forget what your father says, or the town, or even your friends. this seems to be all you need.

how am i ever going to recover from this? you thought to yourself.

you hear your friend call your name from outside. rafe looks over as they yell from outside. “i’ll see you around, how’s that sound?” you look at him, unable to think when he looks at you like this. his hand brushes against your face before walking back out into the party.

you stand there, still as your friend comes in. “you alright? looks like you seen a ghost or something.” she asks you, laughing a bit.

“all good.” was all you can get out, staring straight ahead at the door rafe just left in.

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

ever since the party, rafe found little ways to be around you.

whether it was joining you at the country club while you played tennis or hanging around you when he saw you at the beach reading. he even started knocking on the front door of your mansion to just talk on your porch, something you had to hide from your dad. with these interactions, you had no idea what everyone was warning you about with him. he was one of the sweetest guys you ever met. for weeks, you and rafe had begun a nice friendship.

but the almost kiss at topper's party was never spoken of again.

the two of you sat on your porch swing, the air was warm as summer was slowly approaching. your legs laid flatly across rafe’s lap, looking directly at him. you poured a glass of lemonade for you both, sparking rafe to hit you with a “you sure you don’t want some vodka in this?”

when you’re with rafe, the conversations seem to just flow like you are the oldest of friends. you could talk about anything and nothing at the same time. he went on for the past five minutes about how he used to love playing lacrosse but one injury affected his whole career for him.

“it sucked, ya know? i never felt like i belonged anywhere, or had a close bond with anyone like i did on that team. then one fucking torn acl later and it’s all gone for me. i had college scouts looking at me and everything. i could’ve escaped this place and lived the real college experience.” he looked out into the water that faced your house. he turned to you and smiled awkwardly. “jeez, i’m sorry i just don’t shut up.”

you chuckle at him, loving how he put some of his walls down around you. “it’s okay, i like hearing ya talk. it’s soothing.” you smile innocently at him.

he gazes into your eyes and nods, his expression softening. “really?” you nod and he just stares at you. “you’re one of a kind, ya know?” his fingers start to rub innocent circles on your leg.

“and why’s that?” you ask him.

“i-i don’t know, i feel like i can be myself around you.” he admits. “don’t ever quote me on that because i’ll deny that shit.” he points, gaining a laugh from you.

“don’t want anyone to know rafe cameron can be a softie?” you tease him.

“shut up, i’m not a softie.”

“i think you can be behind close doors.” you say.

he stops rubbing your leg and turns to you. “oh shut up.”

“well, you’re gonna have to make me then.” you say without thinking.

rafe looks at you with a fire in his eyes that you haven’t seen since the party. “what was that?” he cocks his eyebrow at you.

you just stare into his eyes, straightening your shoulders back. a confidence striking you like never before. “i think you heard me, rafe.”

without missing a beat, rafe connects your lips. all of that pent-up tension, gone within that very second. his hands found his way to your face, cupping it ever so lightly like you were a delicate flower he was so lucky to have found. his hands slowly slid down your body, like he was trying to memorize every inch of your skin. "jesus, this is all i've been thinking about." he said breaking away, looking into your eyes.

"then, don't stop." you say breathlessly, climbing on top of his lap, kissing him again.

you can tell this move took rafe by surprise as he let out a soft moan in the kiss. the innocence he once thought you possessed was now all gone. you slowly began grinding yourself against rafe's clothed cock, which was slightly hardening. "fuck, who knew you had it in you, honey." he said as he kissed down your jaw. you never felt so needier in your life chasing a high with rafe that you thought you could only dream about.

your face blushed as you looked down at rafe who was staring up at you like you were a painting held high in the louvre. the more you looked down, the more self-conscious you became. your pace which was rapidly increasing started to falter. "hey, hey, sweetheart. don't stop now. what's wrong? talk to me." he caressed your face so lovingly.

you bit your lip and closed your eyes, still out of breathe. "i-i-i don't know. what if i'm doing this wrong? or it's weird for you? i'm just nervous, i never did this before."

"did what, sweetheart? dry humped?" he almost laughed, pushing hair out of your face.

you shrugged. "well yes and no..." your voice started to trail off.

"yes and no?" rafe stared at you with a puzzled expression, trying to crack the code. you watched as he deciphered your words and the gears started to turn. "y/n, have you ever been with someone like...sexually before?"

you wanted to cry, the embarrassment being too hard to handle. you just laid your head against rafe's chest and sighed. "please, don't think of me any differently. i just...i just haven't found the right person to do all this with, ya know? i used to be scared but with you...i don't know, i feel ready." rafe sat there in silence, his hands falling to your waist and gripping them. you break away from his chest and stare into his eyes, which have seemed to darken. "rafe?"

"you trust me?" he asks simply. you nod shyly, causing his breath to hitch. you can feel his pants grow tighter under you. "i want you to keep going, do you hear me? don't stop until you cum on my pants." it sounds like he is giving you orders. he brings his thumb across your lip and gives a menacing smirk. "you wanna be all mine, huh? you pretty girl. show me your mine."

with his reassurance, you pick up you begin to rub yourself against his pants. your hands grip his shoulders as he holds you down on him. "good girl, keep it going." the material of his jeans feel rough against your clothed cunt but it adds a sensation you have never felt before. "shit, look at how pretty you look on me. can't wait to bury my cock inside you. would you like that? my cock being so far inside you, you can feel it in your stomach?"

you let out a pathetic whine, your head falling back from the pleasure you have building up inside. "y-yes."

"good girl, but we gotta start with the basics, right?" his hands start to trail up your body, stopping at your closed breasts. he cups them with his hands and smiles when you cry his name. "i got you, baby. c'mon, you know you wanna cum."

you quickly grind against him, feeling desperate as you chase your high. with his words of praise and reassurance, you can feel yourself ready to release. with one quick movement, you feel the tension building up in your stomach release as you cum on rafe. tears prick your eyes as you repeat his name over and over again. "rafe, rafe, rafe."

he stares at you in awe as you finish on him. the sight of your teary eyes and his name falling from your lips in such a needy way pushed him over the edge. he found himself cumming in his pants like he was a high schooler all over again.

you both stayed there, out of breathe, not moving once. you felt like a whole new person even though barely anything has changed.

"you alright?" he asks, pushing hair away from your face.

you tiredly nod, not knowing how to form words. your hooded eyes just take in the view of rafe, his face read and sweaty with a cocky smirk painted across it.

he bites his lip and kisses you gently. "there's more where that came from, you know?" he says and your head reels. "i've been waiting for so long to have you to myself, sweetheart. i don't plan on letting go now."

you giggle into his chest and nod. "don't gotta worry about me leaving, trust me. i've never felt so good in my life." the sweet yet sensual moment you two shared came to a halt when you heard your dad's truck pulling up the gravel road to your house. "shit." you quickly climb off rafe, trying to compose yourself.

your father quickly exited the truck, slamming the door behind him. he seemed to race up to the two of you as you sat there. rafe's hand protectively went over yours as your father approached. "the hell is he doing here?" he fumes.

"d-dad, we're just hanging out." you lie to his face.

"yes sir, that's all we were doing." rafe says camly, looking at him in the eyes.

your father head snaps towards rafe. "was i talking to you, boy? no. stay outta it." his attention focuses back to you. "i told you to not mess with the likings of this boy and what do you do behind my back?" he screams at you. "you go around with this...this hooligan! i want him off my property now. acting like some easy girl, i raised you better."

"b-but, daddy." you pout, trying not to cry as rafe squeezes your hand.

"sir, you're being too hard on her. it's not her fault." rafe tries to calm him down.

your father's finger rests on rafe's chest as he gets close to his face. "oh i know that, rafe. it's you and your typical bullshit. my daughter wouldn't act this way if it wasn't for you. look at you, you're probably using her."

rafe's fists clenched as your father talks down to him, no one does this to him and gets away with it. "sir, i suggest you put that finger down."

"or what?" your father snickers in his face.

rafe's whole demeanor shifts, the sweet boy you were just talking to now gone. like he was never even there. it honestly scared you how fast rafe can change personalities. "you don't even want to know." he grits his teeth. you hate to admit the affect this took on your body, clenching your legs together.

your father drops his finger and turns to you. "inside, now." he says, grabbing your arm. before you can fight him off, he's dragging you away from rafe.

"it's okay, baby, we'll figure this out." he reassures as you are being brought into your house. "fuck!" he screams as soon as the door slams shut.

you watch as rafe makes his way to his truck, slamming the door shut and driving away. you turn to your father who just stares at you as you cry. "screw you!" you say before running upstairs and locking yourself in your room.

you finally had him and now you lost him.

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

the days past since you saw rafe.

your father grounded you and cut you off from the outside world.

you sat by your window and waited, having some false hope that rafe would be your knight in shining armor and take you away from this place. your father pulled up the driveway and seemed to struggle getting out of his truck.

you met him at the door, ready to deal with the bullshit he would throw you today. when you opened your door, your father seemed battered and bruised.

"holy sh-i mean...what happened?" you asked, holding the door open for your dad as he sat on the recliner.

"nothing." he shuttered. "nothing happened."

you stood there and crossed your arms. "clearly something happened."

he shook his head, seeming almost fearful. "nothing happened, now drop it." you stood there as he turned to you. "you aren't grounded anymore. your phone is on my dresser." he seemed almost defeated.

you stared at your dad trying to understand what the hell is going on. are you in the twilight zone? you knew you wouldn't get an answer out of him so you grabbed your things and raced out of the house before he could change his mind. the sun was setting but you didn't care, you had one thing and one thing only on your mind.

you got on your bike and raced towards tannyhill. when you finally got there, you threw your bike down and almost ran to the front door. with two knocks, wheezie opened the door.

"y/n?" she said with a smirk.

"hey, wheezie, is rafe home?" you say, snooping around the insides of the home.

she rolls her eyes and opens the door. "in his room."

you walk up the stairs and stop right before his door. your fist hovering over it before connecting it to the wood. after a few seconds, rafe stands there in the almost dark room.

"y/n." he says, almost as though he was expecting you to be here.

you quickly jump into his arms, holding onto him by his neck. you missed this. the way he smelled, the way he felt, everything about this boy drive you wild. "i missed you."

"i missed you too, honey. come on in." he lets you into his room. this was your first time being in here. sure, you've seen it through snapchat and pictures he sends but that's it. it's the typical boy room but it felt authentic. it felt like rafe.

you sit down on his bed as he walks around, picking up clothes off the floor. "didn't think i'd be having guests." he doesn't seem like his usual self, maybe you caught him at a bad time? but he invited you in, so you stayed.

you laugh at him. "no big deal, the old man let me off the hook tonight. it was weird, he came home all messed up. i tried asking but he kinda pushed me away. it was weird."

rafe stood there, silently. "oh really?"

"yeah, super strange. he's not usually the fighter type. never has been." you watch him stand there. "you all good?"

he nods and turns to you. "i am, now that you're here."

you smile at him as he approaches you. you open your legs so he can stand in between them, looking down at you. he traces your face with his finger, stopping at your lips. "all mine, sweetheart. all mine." he says before bending down to kiss you. the kiss feels rough, almost as though you are a fresh breathe of air that rafe has been waiting for. he pushes you down onto his bed and crawls on top of you.

you break the kiss and look into his eyes, his room is dark so you can only make out certain features. but you bring your hand to his face and hold his cheek, which makes him wince. "oh, i'm sorry, did i hurt you?"

"n-no, it's all good." he tries to kiss you again but you stop him.

"rafe?" you ask him, making him stop once again. "what's wrong? tell me."

"goddamn! nothing is wrong, okay? i can't miss you." he says, running a hand through his hair. you try to study his face but can't even see him. you reach over for his bedside lamp. "no, no, leave it of-" before he can stop you, the light is on. his beautiful face has a large bruise under his right eye and cheek. his lip busted and knuckles bruised.

"rafe?" you question, sitting up.

"y/n, i can explain." he pleads.

then it all makes sense. your father coming home all battered and bruised, rafe's current state, you being let off the hook too easily.

"you don't even want to know."

"it's okay, baby, we'll figure this out."

his words from that night ring through your head. the way his whole demeanor changed that night into a person you've never seen before.

"d-did you?" you ask with teary eyes.

"baby, look at me. i can explain." he begs you but you start to get up.

"explain what? how you beat up my fucking dad!?" you yelled, trying to grasp the millions of thoughts you had. "h-how could you?" you stand by his door, pacing, with your head in your hands.

he walks up to you, grabbing your hand. "look at me, honey, please. look at me." he begs you, trying to grab your attention.

when you finally turn to him, you see the cuts and bruises again. "rafe, why?" you say with a tear slipping down.

"because i love you, honey. you're my girl and i don't give a fuck who it is, they cannot talk to you the way your own father did. calling you easy, acting like your dumb for being around me. nobody should ever talk to you like that, ever." you stop and he cups your face in his hands. "i just wanted to talk to him, okay? all i wanted to do was talk. but then he started again with how i'm a bad person and how you were being stupid for even acknowledging me. he said he didn't need a guy like me corrupting his daughter and i snapped."

you gazed into his eyes, they looked as though they were pleading with you to see why he did what he did.

"please, say something. please." he states.

you sigh and close your eyes. "rafe, i don't need you going around defending my honor, especially to my dad. it's not worth it."

"not worth it? sweetheart, look at me." you open your eyes. "you are worth everything to me, you hear me? everything. i would kill for you if you asked me to. i never had someone care for me the way you do, have someone listen to me, or even treat me normally. you mean the world to me, y/n. i love you."

and there it was.

rafe cameron, for once in his life, showed affection.

he told someone they love them.

"i'm sorry it was your dad, okay? sometimes, i black out and can't remember things when i'm angry. i act on my impulses. but with you, i never feel that way." he shakes his head, trying to contain all his emotions. your eyes water again, causing him to wipe the tears. "what's wrong, baby? talk to me."

you smile through the tears. "i just, i love you too." no one has ever made you feel so safe and loved in one moment than rafe has this past month. he's all you could ever ask for.

he beams down at you, shaking his head. "you mean that?"

"with every ounce of my body, i love you." you admit.

his heart swelled as he connected your lips once more to his. you were all his, all he ever needed in life to feel whole.

rafe pushes you against the door, a light moan slipping from your lips as he presses himself against you.

"you like that?" he asks, a satisfied smirk on his face as he kisses your cheek and goes down your neck.

you nod under his touch, like you're cast in his spell. "y-yes."

"you want more?" he asks, sucking on one spot of your neck for a long time. all you can do is nod, already becoming a mess because of him. he pulls away, having you almost whimper from the lack of contact. "not uh, baby, gotta hear some words out of that beautiful mouth of yours. i'll repeat myself, do you want more."

"y-yes, rafe, yes please."

he groans at your begging and nods. "good girl." he pulls you over to the bed and guides you toward it. you feel the bed hit the back of your knees and you sit down, looking up at him. he quickly takes his shirt off and tosses it to the side.

he kisses your lips lightly as his hands find the end of your shirt, lightly toying with the fabric. "y-you can take it off." with the reassurance, he slips the top off and leaves it next to you. his eyes take in your body, your breasts pooling out of a flimsy green bralette. he sucks his tongue and gently runs his fingers over your tits.

"so pretty and they're all for me." he slowly reaches behind your back and unclasps the bralette with one hand, letting it fall down your body. you could swear rafe has tiny hearts in his eyes as they bore onto your half-naked body. "lay down." you follow his orders and lay against his pillows. his bedroom light shines over his features and the cuts from the fight. you bring your hand up to touch them and he gives into your touch. "you okay?"

"more than okay." you tell him.

he kisses your hand then his lips meet with yours once again. he then lets his lips trail across your cheek, jaw, neck, and down to your chest. he stares at your tits before peppering them both with kisses. he then takes one nipple in his mouth, slowly, and grabs your other one with your free hand to give a squeeze. your body instantaneously reacts to rafe's touch, moaning at the sensation of his lips. "you like that, huh?" he almost teases, switching to the other nipple.

"m-more." you whisper out, clenching your eyes.

"what was that, honey? need you to speak up for me." he grins.

"please, i want more, rafe. touch me more." you raise your voice.

"you got it." his hand leaves your tit and trails slowly down your body, resting at the hem of your jeans. he unbuttons them and lets his hands slide down your underwear, his hands automatically getting soaked. "shit, baby, all this for me?" he runs ins finger down your cunt and gathering your slick, bringing it to his mouth. he sucks it off his fingers as you watch in awe. "you're just too sweet for me, you know that?"

he doesn't even give you time to think before he puts his fingers back inside you, swirling your cunt. your hands grab his shoulders, holding onto them for dear life. "it's okay, i got ya, i always got ya." he reassures as he slowly slips one finger into your tight hole. "jesus, honey, with a hole this tight i don't know how long i'll last." he says as he slips his finger in and out of you, his thumb still toying with your clit.

your head falls back as more moans fall from your lips. "more, rafe, please give me more."

he laughs slightly. "cocky little thing, aren't ya? if you insist." he adds one more finger, your hole clenching around him as his finger slip in and out. "look how pretty you look with my fingers inside of you." he says before kissing your mouth, collecting your moans. you're so wet you hear the noises your pussy is making around him. you feel overstimulated as rafe keeps going, not stopping once. tears prick your eyes as you feel your high approaching. his thumb rubs harder as your nails connect to rafe's chest, dragging them down. "my pretty baby, i just love you so much." he says, staring at you.

with those words, you feel yourself being pushed to pleasure. you cum all over rafe's fingers, crying out his name. "rafe!"

he lets you ride out your high before taking his fingers out and putting them in his mouth like he did before. "never gonna get tired of that."

he gets up and heads to the bathroom. you want to talk to him, ask him where he's going, but you're too tired. you've never felt this good, not even from your own fingers. rafe comes back with a towel in his hand, gently, he pulls off your shorts and panties, cleaning off your pussy. the water is nice and warm as he gets you situated. he drops the rag and crawls into his bed next to you, holding you tightly.

"you know, if you want me to go dow-" but before you can finish that sentence he kisses your forehead.

"no need to rush there, honey. i wanna take my time with you, wanna show you how good i can make you feel." your heart melts in your chest as he rubs your back lightly. "get some rest, alright?"

you fall asleep fast in his arms, he holds you there the entire night and doesn't plan on letting go.

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